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Insubordinate, and Churlish
WC : 1130“Uh huh. Yeah.” Tsao Chen droned into the cell phone pressed against his ear. “Yeah, I know. I’m on my way.”
Other than the sound of the train car rushing through the tunnel, there was little to combat the sound of the blindman’s one-sided conversation. As the opposing voice squeaked on the other end of the line he became increasingly agitated. In no time at all he was leaning forward and rubbing the top of his head.
“What did I just say? I’ll be there when I’ll be there!” Chen’s sudden outburst drew the attention of a few of the nearby passengers.
In a fit he jolted backwards into his seat. A quiet slap echoed off the car’s walls when his hand violently met his leg. More inaudible mumbling from the other end of the phone only furthered his aggravation.
“I’m not a baby, I’m blind. There’s a difference, dumbass. We’re not setting up a new handler. You’ve been the worst part of this job since day one. If I go another five months with an executive nanny ordering me around I will crush my own ear drums just to protect my brain from the sound of your voice!” By the end of his little tirade Chen was practically yelling into his phone’s tiny receiver. With great prejudice he slammed his thumb down on the “end call” button before a retort could come through.
“Stupid foreigners. Treat me like a toddler and then transfer me ‘cause I’m ‘insubordinate and churlish’. Shoulda stayed home and joined a Triad.” Chen muttered to himself in Cantonese while digging through his coat pockets.
Eventually he pulled out a half-empty pack of cigarettes from which he immediately withdrew a single cigarette. In the midst of fumbling for his lighter quiet disapproval seemed to swell from the crowd of passengers.
“You can’t smoke in here!” An intervening passenger snapped from a seat somewhere to Chen’s right.
All of the stories he’d heard about the Japanese being ruthlessly apologetic had turned out to be false. Hearing that they disliked it when people blew smoke in their faces while riding in an enclosed space came as a shock. At least in China, he mused as he found the lighter, people were accustomed to smog overwhelming their every sense at all times.
“At least wait until you’re off the train, man.” Another bystander expressed their dissatisfaction.
Escalating complaints had caught Chen just as his thumb was about to strike the lighter’s spark wheel. A portion of his heavily-suppressed conscience demanded that the lighter be put away. In the same way that he understood but ignored the real reason he’d been transferred he could comprehend that pissing off everybody in Tokyo was a poor path to follow – an equally ignorable fact.
Moving to Japan was supposed to bring with it a new-and-improved Chen, he thought in the passing seconds. Was it really worth it to keep throwing that away because he felt his employer was handling him according only to his supposed ‘disability’? To discern what mattered most he had to dive deep into the pit of his very soul.
When next the train stopped a cacophonic symphony of voices had filled the car. Amidst the chaos an automated message buzzed over the PA system announced the stop. Scores of passengers rushed out of the car. In the center of the crowd a trail of smoke lingered in the air – the source of the pervasive shouting.
Hearing the overwhelmingly negative reaction to his decision to smoke put a big smile on Chen’s face. Redeeming the dark chi in his soul – or whatever mystical crap the Japanese believed in – could wait just a little bit longer.
Pushing and shoving were acceptable punishments for his choice. Once Chen had gotten out of the underground station he took a moment to take in the foreign city’s sounds. As with most of Japan it lacked the life-threatening smoke found in some of China’s denser areas.
Sounds of city life filled his ears to the point that Chen could hardly hear his own thoughts. If he managed to stay in Tokyo he felt he wouldn’t ever have to worry about sensory deprivation. A mess of car alarms, horns and rumbling engines created a mechanical wailing matched only by the crowds of people trying to talk over it. In some ways it reminded him of what his former home could have been except with slightly less pollution.
On some level Chen enjoyed large groups of strangers angrily expressing their righteous indignation toward him. Admitting that he was wrong to light up a cigarette in a crowded and enclosed cigarette, or that he’d overreacted to everything his former handler ever said was shockingly difficult. Being a rock against the current seemed easier than actually moving – but over the years the aftermath of his actions had become less enjoyable.
“Hey, man.” A somewhat familiar voice accompanied approaching footsteps. It took him a moment to recognize it as one of the dissenters from the train.
By Chen’s reckoning the footsteps were approaching from behind. In preparation he steeled himself for what he felt was coming up. A hand suddenly clamped his shoulder and yanked back, forcing him to turn around.
“You better move that hand, gweilo.” Chen’s tone belied that he was anticipating some rougher ‘dialogue’.
“You can’t just wa—” before the conscientious objector finished his sentence a puff of cigarette smoke was blown into his face.
Either it was the new setting or the desire to see how far one could go with one bad decision that caused Chen to feel no compulsion to hold his destructive urges back. Judging by the strength of the hand that gripped his shoulder just moments ago he felt he was in for a good fight. Yet again he acknowledged that he was making poor decisions considering his fresh start – he also ignored it.
After recovering from his coughing fit Chen’s chosen foe seemed to pause for a moment. A string of Japanese pejoratives flew from his mouth faster than Chen could understand them. One more footstep, heavier than the others, gave away what was coming next. In preparation he released his guide cane onto the concrete.
Anticipating an uncoordinated swing, Chen immediately ducked. Air rushed overhead suggesting that his guess had been correct. Numerous onlookers gasped in awe and fear of the escalating fight.
Without regard to his legal record or even employment he kept down and tackled his opponent at his midsection. In mere minutes, police sirens began approaching until they overwhelmed all other sounds. Starting a fight with a civilian and being arrested were ominous signs for a typical, law-abiding citizen arriving in a new city. For Chen, however, such a violent introduction fit like a glove.
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