The Noodle Maker(67)
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t concentrate on his words. I’m afraid that my political resolve has been weakening. In the past, I used to pore over each document my leaders sent down to me. I complied with every decision they made concerning my personal relationships and political studies. I was one of the lucky ones. Because my parents joined the Party before Liberation, and had lived in a Soviet controlled area, I was absolved from attending the re-education camps that my classmates were sent to. At school, I was as skinny as a dried pickle and the shortest boy in the year, but because of my family background I was appointed chairman of the student union in the first week of term. I took the position very seriously, and participated in every school activity. In the morning, I ran two circuits of the playing field to give my complexion a healthy glow, and at night I practised my political speeches. After I left school, I became even more conscientious. When Premier Zhou Enlai announced that smoking was patriotic, I smoked ten cigarettes in one day, although in the afternoon I felt so ill I had to be carried to the sickbay. That show of patriotism was almost sufficient to secure my Party membership. But unfortunately, I never succeeded in acquiring an addiction to tobacco.
After the rape incident, the dog often asked me when the pedestrian flyover would be officially opened. Sometimes I would read out articles for him from the local paper. One night, as the traffic wardens’ voices were booming above the roar of the streets below, I read out an article entitled ‘Good Prospects for the Flyover’. It said: ‘Having received 170 complaints from the public concerning the construction of the flyover, the provincial authorities sent a team to the site yesterday to investigate the problem. The thirteen members of the team promised to assess the situation objectively and reject any bribes or special treatment. They were true to their word. After they arrived at the train station, they declined the use of the limousines sent by the municipal Party committee and chose instead to travel to the site by public bus. The crowds they met along the way approved of their frugal and upright attitude. When they reached the site, the team enquired about the number of traffic incidents that have occurred under the flyover this month. They visited the newly established rescue centre and arranged for a doctor who neglected to deal with the dislocated shoulder of a crash victim to be sent away for interrogation. In their final report, the team pointed out that the political study meetings held in the rescue centre on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons create severe disruptions to medical care, and they suggested that this matter should be looked into …’
‘It seems that the investigation team has solved many problems,’ I said, looking up from the page.
‘If they hadn’t built that flyover in the first place, there would never have been so many accidents,’ the dog complained.
‘At least the municipal authorities are working hard to put matters right.’
‘Surely they realise that the only way to solve this problem now is to hurry up and open the flyover to the public.’
Did he really imagine that the municipal Party committee had the power to decide when the flyover was to be opened? He was so naive. Only the Central Committee can make such decisions. And they’re responsible for running the entire country – they have far more pressing issues to think about than solving our pedestrian flyover problem.
‘Don’t you understand the difference between the higher echelons and the people?’ I said. ‘Would dogs ever dare question their superiors? Your arrogance is monstrous. Our leaders built the flyover to relieve congestion. How dare you turn things around and claim they are to blame for today’s traffic problems?’
‘You lead a miserable life. It’s not much better than a dog’s.’
‘Don’t you know that the more miserable you are, the longer you live?’ I said, exasperated by his ignorance.
The survivor always enjoyed feasting his eyes on the accidents that took place on the streets below. He once predicted that over three hundred people a year would die in traffic incidents caused by the construction of the pedestrian flyover. Never in my life will I forgive him this mistake. Admittedly, in the early days, the construction of the flyover did indeed lead to a dramatic increase in road casualties. Pedestrians would flock to it, hoping to make a safe crossing, but on finding it wasn’t yet open to the public, they would end up charging across the intersection at its busiest point. The survivor told me he could see the ghosts of the dead flitting between the flyover’s concrete legs.
But after the rape incident, the town leaders took steps to ease the problem. They erected metal huts on the flyover to house a medical rescue centre. Anyone injured in an accident below is promptly carried to the rescue hut and given free emergency care. The scheme has been a great success. The municipal Party committee has praised the nurses’ contribution to revolutionary humanitarianism, and awarded them prizes and certificates of merit. Although citizens are still denied the pleasure of using the flyover to cross the street, and people continue to be crushed to death by the busy traffic, the flyover still has its merits. When my classmate broke his leg at work, he managed to get it bandaged free of charge in the flyover’s rescue centre. I often visit the survivor in the museum to tell him of the great progress that has been made, but I have to make sure my colleagues aren’t watching – they are always making jokes about me. One time they saw me tuck into a meat pie at lunch, and they said, ‘Be careful, that’s dog meat.’ I felt queasy for days after that.