By Shawn Kim
The distance from school to my home takes twenty minutes to cover on foot. Usually I walk. I looked at my watch and it was already a quarter past nine. God … sometimes I wish soccer practices didn’t take so much of my time. I complained as I started thinking about this big writing assignment for English class. I caught a cab as soon as I walked out of school. “Dao nail?” the driver asked in Mandarin. “Where are you going?” I gave him my address and began reading the instructions for the writing assignment. Then, I found the essay topic which read Create a fictitious conversation between yourself and an important American (living or deceased). The radio drowned out my guttural moan. I must finish this tonight! Doesn’t any teacher in the English department care that we have the biggest soccer match this weekend again our rival school? The driver had tuned the radio to the only English station here. The newscaster observed: “The North Korean Government rejected a UN Security Council statement, saying that the United States was pushing the crisis into a ‘war situation.’ Two weeks ago, North Korea threatened to turn Seoul into a ‘sea of fire.’” I imagined a sea of fire. Electrons swirling, breaking chemical bonds: all to release power. I moaned. Doesn’t anybody care if a bomb comes my way? “I care.” The taxi driver looked at me and spoke in English. “You do?” “I care more than anybody. I’m Albert Einstein – you can tell by the hair.” “You’re kidding.” “I never kid – not since the Los Alamos test. What can I do to help?” “This is real, right? – well, it doesn’t matter if it isn’t. What do you think power is?” I pressed unbelievingly. “To give life and take it away,” he answered. “The first is the exclusive plaything of the gods. The power to kill … we all share. Some of us prove to be more efficient than others.” He continued. “I have become Death, the shatterer of worlds.” His eyes reflected the hot, orange sun outside the window. The old man had not merely seen death. He was afraid that he had become it. Even if I can finish my essay tonight, I may have to stay up all night to do so. I’m definitely in need of a little empowerment. I pressed: “Do you ever feel guilty – about the bomb, I mean – and Hiroshima?” Nice. So much for empowerment. “No.” He stared hard at me. His eyes twitched. “Yes. No matter, life after death is just that – death.” “I’m a Buddhist,” I asserted. “And I believe people can be born again.” “Anyone who strutted like a prize fighter after learning that a city of 3,000,000 no longer existed would not want rebirth!” “But you’re here!” He whipped the wheel to dodge a city bus careening into the lane. “Alright … since it appears that I’ve become a string of contradictions, perhaps you should be the one helping me.” “Okay, I think it’s like this,” I was a on a roll. “You are alive now because you feed on a guilty conscience. In fact, you are guilty only of not understanding the paradoxical nature of your actions.” He shook his head. “My science helped to build the bomb, and it was what killed hundreds of thousand of people. Where is the paradox in this?” “Because the bomb killed hundreds of thousands of people, because your bombs still threaten the extinction of humanity … life thrives. There is your paradox – you killed to save but did not understand what would endure. Schindler did not start out to become Schindler. I am alive because I know North Korea may send me into orbit. It’s always more important to live by the brighter side of your heart!” The cab pulled over to the curb; he’d brought me home. And Dr. Einstein intoned, “May all the gods and cups of coffee smile upon you!” “Ha! You’re kidding, right?” “I never kid, “ he smiled inscrutably, and voiced thanks in Mandarin: “Xie Xie.” #Volume 6 Issue 4 a
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The Taida Student Journal has been active since 1995 with an ever-changing roster of student journalists at NTU. Click the above link to read about the authors Archives
May 2024
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