Day 16.
05:47, boil water. 3 grams of pre-rain, 80 degrees, pour it down. Smell it 3 times. Pour it out.
There is ink in the well of the inkstone. Twenty turns. I write today's date: November 19, 2125. The strokes come out tight. Done, I crumple the paper and press it under the paperweight.
The pothos is watered. The soil is damp. Both leaves still there.
06:12:00, the commuter car pulls in, empty. 06:12:08, the doors close. The car passes City Hall; the red characters on the sign sweep across the glass. 99.9997, with the water meter and the power meter beside it, same as ever.
The locker is to the left of the entrance, no. 4471. Drawer two, 7 bandages. Drawer three, the seal.
The new card pins at the left breast. The pin tight. From the locker room to Zone C, I press it 3 times.
07:00:00, the desk lights up. First in the queue, 77413. The reroute order follows in the lower right corner.
> Status: Overdue > Overdue by: 278 hr 09 min > Clock: running
The head-of-queue item I haven't touched. Day 14. Today it resends for the 14,832nd time.
Morning stamping. First, a review of the gas stove trade-in subsidy for an old residential district, human impact Grade 3, 306 names in the annex, and after each name a column for the old stove model. I count 306. Stamp. Second, a change of nutrition-meal supplier for a village primary school, 19 names in the annex. Third, a heating-coal subsidy for households in difficulty, human impact Grade 3, 244 names. Fourth, a review of workers' compensation rehabilitation costs, human impact Grade 2 — no stamp, to the execution tier. Fifth, an annual-review summary for the senior transit concession, 88 names in the annex.
Names counted this morning: 306, 19, 244, 88. I don't keep totals. I count one, and it's one.
The stove item's annex has a model column. 306 names, 306 models, all in line.
> Gas stove trade-in subsidy list (annex · excerpt) > No. 41 Li Guixiang old stove model JZY-2-76 new stove model JZY-4-03 subsidy 200 > No. 42 Chen Wanjin old stove model JZT-2-88 new stove model JZY-4-03 subsidy 200 > No. 43 Zhou Shulan old stove model JZY-1-54 new stove model JZY-4-03 subsidy 200
The model on line 42, I read it to myself, once.
JZT-2-88.
On the side of my mother's stove there was an aluminum plate, and this was the line on it. White porcelain top, 2 burners; the left one took 2 strikes to light. She had me read that line 3 times — she said if you lost a part, you reported the model no. Oil sizzling in the pan. She wrapped my right hand inside hers, hollowing her palm to leave mine room — she said an egg should fit in the hollow. She had her apron on, the strings knotted behind her back. She didn't look back.
Lao Zhou taught me to hold the pen on my first day on the job. The barrel lies in the web of the thumb, he said — the way a thing lies in a groove. When he leaned over, a mole at the tail of his right eyebrow. When he talked, the mole didn't move. His hand is loose; he wanted mine tight.
My mother wrapped my right hand into hers. Lao Zhou squared my right hand away. Two palms — one at the stove, one at the review station.
There were other things at the stove. A soy sauce bottle on the windowsill, its mouth covered with cloth. A bamboo chopstick holder, chopsticks in it, long ones and short. On the wall a calendar; which month it lay open to I can't remember — only that the corner had curled, curled into a hard roll. The aluminum plate was riveted on, 4 rivets in 4 corners; the lower right one was loose, a fingernail could move it. When she had me do the 3 reads, I stared at that loose rivet.
These things I remember. The model I remember. Which month the calendar was open to, I don't.
I spent less than 2 minutes on this stretch. The 5th item came; I stamped.
09:15:02.
My hand shakes. 0.4 seconds. The seal stops in midair, comes down, face square. Item in hand: 3,317.
10:40, the new tube at row 14 of Zone C is burning, no hum, no flicker you can catch. The 2 marks the ladder man left are still in the floor tiles, fainter.
11:52, the canteen opens. Meat is duck leg and hairtail fish; vegetables are radish and cabbage. I take radish and cabbage, 1 scoop of rice.
Lao Ge carries his tray over and sits. 2 dishes today.
I say: Lao Ge, when you were small, who taught you to hold a pen.
He says: My mother.
I say: Where.
He says: Beside the dough board. She'd be kneading dough, flour on her hands; she'd free one out and wrap it around mine.
He says: The palm stays hollow, she said. An egg should fit in it.
I say: Do you remember the stove.
He says: The dough board I remember. Elm. The stove, no.
I say: What do you remember about the board.
He says: A crack down the middle. Cutting, you cut around the crack.
He drinks his soup, not a mouthful left.
He says: Why are you asking this.
I say: A stove item came through today.
He says: A file is a file.
He says nothing more. He finishes the food on his tray, leaves a small half of the rice.
Master Xu sits diagonally across from me; she came late today. 2 vegetable dishes on her tray.
I say: Master Xu, who taught you to hold a pen when you were small.
She says: My grandmother.
I say: Where.
She says: By the sink. She'd be shelling peas, her hands cold. She held my wrist — not my fingers.
She says: The pen straight, the person upright.
I say: Your grandmother's hands were cold.
She says: Well water. In those years you washed greens in well water.
She says: What's this question for.
I say: No reason.
She says: Ask sitting down, not standing up.
She points at the empty seat beside me. I sit. She eats, doesn't look at me again. Her hydroponic pothos is on the Zone B windowsill, water beads on the leaves — someone wiped them today.
Xiao Zheng comes over with his cup, stands at the far end of the table, doesn't sit.
I say: Xiao Zheng, who taught you to hold a pen when you were small.
He says: My sister.
He says: On the balcony, at the little table, one leg propped on half a brick.
He says: She placed my fingers one by one.
He says: Shen, why are you asking this.
I say: A stove item came through today.
He says: Oh.
He stands 3 seconds, then walks off with his cup. The water in it is full; as he goes the surface wobbles once, doesn't spill.
Beside the dough board. Beside the sink. On the little balcony table. One wrapped the hand, one held the wrist, one placed the fingers.
When I was small I was at the stove. Oil sizzling in the pan.
13:24, hall-leave register. Reason: Archives lookup. Expected return, 14:40.
Before going I stand at the locker half a minute. At the very back of the drawer, the stopwatch under the seal. I don't take it out.
The Archives are on B1 of the podium block. Iron door; the 2 handwritten characters for Archives on an enamel plaque. Yellow light. Mildew, camphor, rust. The outer 3 rows — going in I glanced: B-13, B-26, B-31, the 3 compartments still empty, the little dust at their bottoms unchanged.
A He is behind the register desk, blue smock, ink on the cuffs. She is mending a dip pen, the nib held in tweezers.
She says: Mr. Shen, rare guest. 4 days, no visit.
I say: The Training Section's archiving — is any of it here with you.
She says: Which year.
I say: Onboarding training.
She sets the pen down and unhooks her keys from her waist. 3 on the ring; she uses the middle one, opens the double-door cabinet at the back, and brings out a catalogue. A thin booklet, kraft cover, corners curled.
She says: Came in 10 years ago. I logged it. Nobody has checked it out to this day. This is what you want, right.
> Onboarding memory package · issue catalogue (copy) > Filed: March 2115 Filed by: (employee no. 0406) Retention: permanent > Batch no. JY-2075-001 Version R-1 Post: reviewer Issue scope: new seats Issue date: November 2075 Handler: (blank) > Batch no. JY-2085-001 Version R-2 Post: same Issue date: December 2085 Handler: (blank) > Batch no. JY-2105-001 Version R-4 Post: same Issue date: November 2105 Handler: (blank) > Batch no. JY-2115-001 Version R-6 Post: same Issue date: November 2115 Handler: (blank) > Batch no. JY-2125-001 Version R-9 Post: same Issue date: February 2125 Handler: (blank) > Batch no. JY-2125-002 Version R-9 Post: same Issue date: October 28, 2125 Status: out on issue Handler: (blank) > Note: configured with the post · not entered in personal files · originals held by the Training Section, no checkout
I say: What is a memory package.
She says: Don't know. That's what the note says.
I say: The originals.
She says: Training Section. Can't be checked out — this page is plain about it.
She says: I always took it for a training materials catalogue. I logged one of those too — the Training Section's course texts. Review Etiquette. Posture and the Lamp. That kind of thing. This one came in folded in among them.
She draws out the training materials catalogue as well and spreads it alongside.
> Onboarding training materials · catalogue (excerpt) > Lecture 1 Posture and the Lamp > Lecture 2 The Use of the Ink Pad > Lecture 3 Twelve Cases of a Square Seal Face > Lecture 4 Review Etiquette > Lecture 5 Post Memory and Habit Formation > Note: no materials for Lecture 5; coached on the post
She says: Lecture 5, the slot was empty. At the time I thought they hadn't printed it.
She turns the issue catalogue's footer toward me. One small line in the footer: CQ-2015-0061.
She says: The catalogue is carbon-copied too. They run even the catalogue through carbon.
She turns the catalogue over. On the inside back cover, a stamped line: originals not to be checked out.
I say: The last line — did you get a clear look.
She says: I looked when I logged it.
She says: Out on issue. Last month's business.
I say: In the onboarding materials — did you ever receive a family form.
She says: Are you asking about the blank form or the filed ones.
I say: Both.
She opens another cabinet, brings out a stack of unopened specimen forms, draws one, then pulls a register book off the shelf.
> Family member information form (specimen) > Fields: relationship to the person concerned / name / workplace / contact > Reverse: on any change, file anew; the old form is kept by the person concerned > > Incoming register (family information) > From 2075 to the present: items received 0 > Note: (blank)
She says: They printed plenty of the form. Not one ever came in. The boxes print up nicely.
She slots the specimen back into the stack and returns the register book to the shelf. As she closes the cabinet, the useless key on her ring knocks the doorframe.
I say: That one — still haven't found what it opens.
She says: What it opens isn't a door of mine.
She says: You're talkative today.
I say: Mm.
When I'm about to leave she calls me back.
She says: That supplementary file of yours — these 2 days I went through a few pages.
I say: How far did you get.
She says: Page 13.
She says: Slower and slower. 19 pages, 3 days now.
She says: Last time you left, there was a feather between page 10 and page 11. I had it down as yours. I kept it.
I say: It isn't mine.
She says: Then it stays.
She says: The 3 compartments you looked at last time are still empty.
I say: I know.
She hooks the keys back onto her waist and sits down again to the pen. The tweezers hold the nib, turning half a circle under the lamp.
14:26, back at Zone C. 1 hour 2 minutes out of the hall. The queue on the desk has reached item 51; I start stamping from the first.
Before stamping I pull the morning's stove item back out of the completed list and turn to line 42 of the annex. Chen Wanjin, old stove model JZT-2-88. Subsidy 200, closed out.
I don't look at the 2nd line again. I stamp on.
15:37, up for water. 40 steps there and back. The water sits at my right hand. Not one sip.
16:20, no new cc at the top right of the desk. The file went in on day 6. Today is day 16. The conclusion field still isn't showing.
The head-of-queue item sits pinned at the top of the screen, unmoving. Today I've looked at it 3 times in all. Twice in the morning, and this.
16:44, day-close.
> Reviewer: HZ-4471 > Stamps today: 7,830 > Net time: 4 hr 45 min > Average: 2.17 sec/item > Errors: 0
Past the standings screen. First line, not me. Day 11.
16:51, seal return.
17:12, the commuter car pulls in, empty. The car passes City Hall; the red characters on the sign sweep across the glass.
Home. The inkstone unwashed. The pothos watered.
I move the inkstone under the lamp and grind 20 turns, then write on a scrap of paper: JZT-2-88. Letters threaded between digits — the brush won't run smooth, and that 8 drags a tail on the final stroke. Done, I don't crumple it. I press it under the paperweight.
I take out the slip of paper and flatten it. 9 lines on the front. Under the ninth I write a line: JZT-2-88.
10 lines. That aluminum plate on my mother's stove — she had me read it 3 times. The model I remember to this day.
The back still has 2 lines.
6 batch lines in the catalogue, the earliest November 2075, the most recent the 28th of last month. The handler field: empty on all 6. The last line's status, when I looked: out on issue. The footer batch no. is CQ-2015-0061. The originals are at the Training Section. The Training Section is at the west end of the third floor, next door to Personnel. Today I didn't go up to the third floor.
Tomorrow is day 17. First in the queue, still 77413.