Ghosts (Book 1 Part 4)

Before I left for China, I had to see Merlyn. We were once great friends, but I am me and our warm relationship had cooled over the last several years. Merlyn didn’t approve of the lifestyle I led and he was not afraid to tell me so. He is not part of The Circle, so he does not feel the need to kiss my ass like they do. Merlyn does what he does for one of the most ancient of reasons: Cash. Merlyn gets paid for the services he provides.

Merlyn lives in Newhall California. In a shopping center off of Lyons Avenue, in an almost cellar-like enclosed area beneath a second-hand store that few people know of, is Merlyn’s little business. He is an expert at forging documents. I think he might even print money. He is a computer hacker extraordinaire and one of the most intelligent people I know. However, intelligence isn’t the first thing that leaps to mind when you see him. He is a huge man, some of his mass is fat, but much of it is muscle. His long black hair is usually braided and he never learned to trim his full beard, but often braids that as well. I have never known Merlyn to be violent, but that took me years to discover. At first glance one might be intimidated. He certainly lacks charisma and in ways his personality reflects his gruff appearance.

“Here you go, Ulysses. The only thing illegal is the passport. Your friends in that fucking Greek cult pay me too much for this shit.” Merlyn’s face remained impassive under his dark Ray Bans. He used to smile; well then, we also used to be friends.

“Thanks, man.” The last few years I had been feeling increasingly uncomfortable in his presence. I don’t like to sit around and be judged by others.

“Let me tell you a few things about your destination.” He didn’t pause to get my consent, but went right on speaking: “The Open VPN I have for your computer is quite common in China. It is not illegal here in the States, and I am not sure if it is over there. However, many people have it over there, even Chinese folks. Most foreigners who want real access to the real Internet have it.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a program that allows you to pretend you are elsewhere. To put it simply, your Internet signal will not be registered as being from China. You can access anything you can access here, without their commie government interfering with you.”

“Why do I need that?”

“Do you even bother anymore to know what the fuck is going on in the world? Look, the excuse-for-a-government they have over there is very much commie red. They only allow the pathetic population to access what they deem necessary. So, no Facebook, no Utube, nothing is allowed unless the Chinese government thinks it’s okay to see.”

Sometimes I feel like a child. I was not hungover that day, but I hadn’t been doing much but thinking of Violet. If I could not see the dead I would be a lost drunk. Then again, if I could not see the dead, maybe my life would have taken different turns. I reminded myself that it might be wise to keep up with current events in the world.

Merlyn continued: “Look dude, your Chinese visa is very real, but your passport is not. It’s a total fake. Thanks, by the way, for letting me make you a US citizen.”

“No problem.”

“It’ll pass. Your friends pay me too much not to be thorough with this shit, and if something is wrong with the visa, well, that is legitimate, and not my concern. It’s pretty cool that I was able to get you a legitimate visa on a fake passport. But…that’s what I’m paid for. The passport will stick. You just remain calm and never admit that it’s fake. And, if you are stupid enough to do that, don’t you fucking dare tell them where you got it.”

“I’m not so sure I want to go to China. This sounds a little rough.” It did sound a little rough.

“Well, you do what you want, Ulysses. You always do anyway. I already have been paid for this. But, let me remind you that China is developing quite fast. It won’t be a repeat of your trip to The Philippines.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I was getting up to leave, and I grabbed my laptop and the envelope with the documents in them. I took a look around his concrete basement. It was not too shabby of a place. It was clean, and well lit. Several computers were lined up against the far wall in addition to the one Merlyn sat at that was atop his desk. A machine that looked like a giant photocopier was centered in the room with other machines, having more functions I could not understand, about at various places, surrounding it.

“How’d you get your latest wad of cash?” he asked.

“Stockton. I had to go to Stockton.”

“More drug money?”

“That’s what I assume.”

“It must be nice to have some angel tell you where to go to get free money. Must be nice to have a group of idiots worship you and pay for you to see the world.” Well, Merlyn wasn’t going to let me go that easily.

“Sorry you have issues with all I do, Merlyn. Not much you can do about it, huh? Just sit around on your fat ass and judge me? Maybe that is not so healthy for you to constantly envy me.”

“I will never envy you Ulysses, only pity you.” Merlyn crossed his arms over his vast chest and seemed to glare at me.

“I don’t need your pity. You don’t know what I see, what I endure. You have no clue what it is like to see all I see, the decapitated heads, the fatal wounds that they walk around with. Some of them don’t know that they are even dead. Pity them, not me.”

“They’re already dead and all you can do is rush to join them. I know it isn’t easy for you, but you can deal with things in a different manner. You don’t have to be shitfaced and pathetic all your life. You can be something more than that.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, Ulysses, I don’t think you understand. Many people have had a raw deal. They don’t all destroy themselves and all of those around them.”

“Fuck you, asshole. I don’t need your shit. You are being paid to get the documents for me, not to lecture me on your high horse with your bullshit morality.”

“True. Our business is concluded here. So, now…if you don’t mind, you can go feel sorry for yourself somewhere else. Time for you to fuck off.”

So…I fucked off. I fucked off to the nearest liquor store. I had a trip to take and I was going to get good and drunk before I did it.

As I entered the bright sunlight of the October afternoon and felt the unseasonably warm breeze brush up against my face, the heat of it attempting to pull sweat from my pores, I saw them. I took a moment to look around me. It’s difficult to know which are living and which are dead. They all keep going on with their lives, with their deaths.

*****

Shanghai roughly translates into English as Upon-the-Sea, as at one time it used to be on the sea. Around the third century BC it was referred to as Shen or Shencheng. In 1074 it was upgraded from a village to a market town, but would take close to a millennia later, in 1927, when it was officially considered to be a city. It became one of four current municipalities, a federal city with no regard to the province in which it was located, in 1937. In the 1990s, with trade reforms and the wizening up of the current government in dealing with nations that were not strictly socialist it became and still is considered to be the indisputably dominant trade hub in all of Asia.

An extremely brief summary of the economic history of the huge metropolitan area that houses, by population within urban areas, more than any other city in the world at the present is only slightly interesting to me. It doesn’t affect me as much as the war history. All cities, whether still in existence or faded away only to be read about in history books have had their share of viciousness visited upon them. Shanghai is no exception to the violence of men.

There are very many ghosts in any area that has been around for a significant time. Shanghai is no exception. I believe that most of the ghosts I gazed upon in Shanghai, at least those with missing limbs, bloodied, battered, and carrying shredded flesh that was seemingly peeled from the bone as though meat fit for a meal in some grotesque feast, and otherwise only remnants of human bodies, I get to thank Japanese Imperialism for having to witness.