They Always Wither In Silence Alone
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I didn’t attend Chan’s funeral.

He wasn’t in the office last morning, it turned out that he was in the dormitory, cold and dead. We went to the scene during lunch break, they cleaned it up already. The sun rose on new beddings, a warm place it was.

Lau, the security staff, said Chan became acquaintance to the counseling room this month, for drugs though. Got a heck lot of different pills and gave himself a prescription-free Cocktail therapy. If lucky enough, therapy like that would end up with a lethargy. When things were a little bit better, the last act of this lousy show would likely to be something like this. Empty pill boxes were scattered all over the bed, and so was those used toilet paper. Viagra, which didn’t make their way to his stomach, were lying upon the nightstand. The counseling room don’t have such stock .Anyone watch this scene will come to the conclusion that this is a man who jerked off with the pills then slept with them.

We ask if Hsu, a shrink of the counseling room, knows how did he get those V-pills. He knows it, in fact, he was the source. The old shrink explained that Chan had not only a bad sleep situation, also got pretty rough with his GF lately. He asked if Mr. Shrink could help him out, the answer to this was the V-pills.

Then we paid Chan’s girlfriend a visit, wanted to know if she knows Chan was taking Viagra or noticed any sign of his suicide. Her reply was quite simple, the last time Chan laid with her was a few weeks ago. For Chan just couldn’t hard on anyway. “It felt like he always got a lot of things on mind.” she said. But suicide, it was to her surprise too.

The funeral was held on the second day of his death. The funeral hall was laid with fake flowers like usual, a minimal etiquette. Each Dept. sent a few representatives, then the supervisor made a short condolence speech, which would be mailed to everyone later.

In spite this unusual event, work goes on like all the other days. The only difference was the canteen had some pork braised in brown sauce on menu, it’s said this cuisine was Chan’s favorite. People who like this dish ordered it in the name of condolence. But the story was not true, Chan once told me in private that the “Hobby” he wrote in the personal file was completely bullshit. “Who the fuck would put something like “dog meat” or “cougar in stocking” on the personal file?” he explained.

My name wasn’t on the representative list, but still in the group mailbox. Chan’s family was absence, even his girlfriend, or maybe I should say his ex-girlfriend, left us the day before, only god knows whether any of us would see her again. You can tell whose funeral it is from the photo, but it must’ve been taken for a few years. That younger Chan looks sentimental and a little bit nerd with his glasses.

The supervisor got us some cigarette, as condolence of course. Then I realized that Chan used to smoke too, learnt nothing from me but crooked shit like this. I forgot to ask Lau were there any cigarette butts in the dormitory. Wondering if he performed this art when death was at his door.

Hsu and the supervisor happened to be in Fire Exit when I went there to smoke, the usual smoking spot of this site. A joke Chan used to tell came to my mind, so I spoke: “I remember Chan used to believe that one’s luck is a constant. The more unlucky your first half of life is, the more lucky your latter half of life will get.” “So, that’s why he muttered ‘Why double yolk egg aging? Why double yolk egg aging?’ while cracking basketful of eggs the other day.” responded Hsu. We all laughed, this joke was about Chan’s dad in the original version, still, we all found it’s funny as usual. The supervisor sighed: “He passed quietly, didn’t make much trouble. Unlike that fucker, had some liquor then tried to break a containment room. Plague the foundation with his own death.”

It did happen, I guess. Or it could be the repeated mention of this incident from the supervisor made me think so. Then I said in this way Chan made a contribution by killing himself. “Much more than making a contribution. It’s something like becoming a hero.” Hsu took over. “Wish we all die like a hero.” Said the supervisor, smiling.

In the end, the supervisor said: “Chan’s gone, but his room isn’t. Sooner or later someone else will move in. I know you forks used to hide something I don’t want to know in his room, better clean up the part security didn’t. You know how awkward it is for the new, right?” Suddenly I realized what Chan jerked off with, I mean other than the pills, the hard drive I lent him. Though I guess the security got it already.

I wandered back to the dormitory around midnight, got no idea why I put this down. In fact, I got used to this a long time ago, got used to face death. The one of the popular jokes after a funeral is “Make sure you took some cool pictures. So that when it’s your turn, we don’t have to put a kid’s photo in the hall. Other than your intimates would think it’s a funeral for a damn drowned kid.”

When the smoke was clear, my consciousness crawled back to the place it used to stay. It brought me some memories about Chan, a chat we had the other day. In his opinion, if this foundation is ever to be turned into a movie, researchers like us are definitely the last choice for leading roles. The anomalous items, would probably be the best option. And he went on: “If this shit world is a film, those fucking screenwriters and the dickhead director are all idiots. Who the fuck with a normal mind would put a story like this? A hell lot of senior intellectual, whose mind are 100% normal, accept the offer to cage something would immediately screw your head off if you are not watching it? And this is the only thing that this fucking international company does. I mean, this is too stupid a story bro. There are only two ways that a world like this can exists this long. Either all the anomalous are simply joking around with us or countless lives have perished in the dark silently.”

I guess he’s made a sense about this, you could never know what would happen in the next second, that’s probably because the world was built on chaos and madness from the very beginning. The only thing that you can say for sure is there will always be fresh corpse to burry.

Once I asked Chan if he thinks a motto like this makes sense. The motto was probably like: “Do you want to die as a hero or live long enough to find out you are a coward after all?”

He said fuck them all, there must be a way to live, to survive.

In his opinion it should rather be: “Do you want to be a dead coward or an alive hero?”

Then he looked me in the eye and said: “It’s like the longer you live in this shitty world, the harder you slap on those dick-heads’ face. Even your head will be screwed off your shoulder the next moment, this moment is nevertheless a victory.”

He was not even 30, but time left more traces on this face than to the others. His hairline started to recede quite years ago. He’s wearing a thick pair of glasses, which reminds me of the bottom of a beer bottle. I told him to fuck himself, then added he looks like a rapist way more than a hero.

We all laughed. But it wasn’t funny.

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