Silence So Profound It Deadened the Senses. Silence So Heavy One Might Never Hear Again

Silence.

Silence so profound it deadened the senses. Silence so heavy one might never hear again.

This was not the silence of peace.An air of expectation hung heavy over the mighty grey monoliths.Enormous rectangular menhirs, as ancient as creation and yet as smooth and slick as the exterior of a modern skyscraper.

They stood shoulder to shoulder forming a giant wall shielding the edge of an island. Set so close together a piece of paper could not be placed between them.

Forty-four in total, each mighty block set exactly at the auspicious angle of 8° from its neighbour. Set into the base of each eleventh stone was a triangular aperture punched through a thickness of stone wider than the embrace of Leonardo DaVinci’sVitruvian Man.

An evolution from henge to monumental fortification, the smooth faces of the monoliths marched away from sight, left and right, like giant dominos. The sight was perfectly reflected in the surrounding pool of shining silver extending outward further than the eye could see.

Above the silent sentinels rose rooftops, all framed in curved points. Black ridged and glistening, the roofs marched upward like the branches of an ancient, sombre and perfectly symmetrical tree.

The reflection was disturbed by a hexagonal tile tumbling from above. The piece of rubble hit the top of the wall and spun out across the silver pool in a gravity defying arc twinned by the reflection below. The tile hit the surface of the metallic pool. There was no splash. The surface plucked inward and swallowed the stone snowflake with a snap leaving the silver surface once again as taut as the skin of a balloon.

A faint rumble broke the perfect silence. A vibration shook the vast pool leaving a visible hum dancing across the surface like a thumped drum skin.Only for a moment. The vibration ceased. The distortion cleared.The reflection of the mighty citadel was restored.

- Rat -

The tao that can be described is not the eternal Tao.

The name that can be spoken is not the eternal Name.

The nameless is the boundary of Heaven and Earth.

The named is the Mother of Creation.

Freed from desire, you can see the hidden mystery.

By having desire, you can only see what is visibly real.

Yet mystery and reality emerge from the same source.

This source is called Darkness.

Darkness born from darkness.

The beginning of all understanding.

- Tao te Ching

Jeremy Wang alighted from the 19:45 Hong Kong-Macau ferry looking for Luck. If his find was genuine, he was going to need it.

He walked along the pier through the warm dead air contemplating the extraordinary anomaly that is Macau. The first European colony established in Asia, founded by the long-faded empire of Portugal in the sixteenth century and the last to be returned to China in the twentieth.

Built on the booming spice trade and surrounded by the most treacherous pirate-infested waters in the world, Macau had always turned risk into reward or ruin.

It seemed a natural progression to Jeremy that this hub of commerce and piracy should transform into the ultimate Asian gambling hub.

His keen black eyes caught his own sardonic grin reflected in the darkened window of a closed dockside restaurant.Smooth, handsome features, hair bronzed and cut in a popular style, clothes smart yet conservative. He looked as though he ought to blend right in with the bustling crowd of unknown but familiar faces. Yet, as always, he didn’t. He changed his point of focus from his reflection to the dusty sign in the window of the failed restaurant; ‘Reopening soon’.

Jeremy joined the flow of chattering pedestrians.To his left, over a row of parked buses, was his first glimpse of Macau.The grim skyscrapers and apartment blocks shrouded in smog and illuminated by flashing neon signs in red and gold didn’t look much different from those he had left behind.As he walked on, the ferry terminal receded and the press of humanity lessened.

Most in the crowd were carefree, some were laughing.All seemed immune to the maddening stillness of the hot heavy air.Although the evening was getting late, the humidity sealed his shirt to his back with a thin film of sweat.

As Fisherman’s Wharf hove into view Jeremy was struck by an urge to remark to an imaginary dog that they weren’t in Hong Kong any more. A theme park filled with enormous follies dominated the wharf. Locals and tourists alike competed with each other to take the most exuberant or outlandish selfie in front of a replica of Rome’s Colosseum, striking body builder poses and affecting kung-fu moves. Jeremy marvelled at how the natural reserve of the Chinese evaporated completely in front of a camera.

A false volcano towered forty meters above the replica ruin occasionally belching a half-hearted pyrotechnic display. Broad stairways ran up either side to a pair of entrances. One was open for business, admitting a steady stream of youths and emitting the sounds of electronic amusements. The other was dark and boarded up. Signs said ‘Closed’ in three languages.

Jeremy wandered past Fisherman’s Wharf into the city proper. The architecture slowly changed from shiny to grimy. Every city block held its own casino. Some were bright and flashy, modern and Western; signposted in English, French and Portuguese. Others were little more than grim non-descript doorways, guarded by a watchful doorkeeper.

Without realising it, he had turned off the main promenade and into steep sided back streets.He picked his way around small piles of rubbish and the occasional stray dog.Three street kids shrieked, laughed and jeered as they threw glass bottles at rats.A smell of stone dust hung in the air while the rumble of construction or destruction echoed along the alleyway chasm.

Chinese New Year was more than a month ago, yet faded red banners hung limp in the heavy air wishing good luck and prosperity.

Good luck. Boy could I use some of that,Jeremy thought, squinting at the characters. Hang on, is that right? He stopped to concentrate on the faded banner.Despite his parents’ best efforts, his Mandarin literacy was quite poor.The characters read ‘Increased Fortune’; a steady improvement of one’s prospects, not ‘Good Luck’; asingle moment of serendipity.And in this context, there was a double entendre; ‘Increased Fortune’ could also be read as ‘Reversal of Fate’.

The smashes of breaking bottles and squeals of harassed rats stopped.“Hai Mista!” The kids had spotted him.Cheap shoes flapped across the street as they ran up behind him.

How had a western upbringing marked him as a stranger? What subtle change to the deepest core of his being was visible to these three kids such that they addressed him in English?Was it his stance, his bearing or quiet confidence? What marked him as a foreigner in this strange familiar land?

Jeremy’s eyes darted warily across the three kids as he jammed his fists into his pockets.The tallest boy waved a handful of tatty postcards at him gesticulating flamboyantly with a wide grin like a salesman displaying his finest wares. His smaller friend was moving in closer grinning all the while.The smallest of the trio was a thin ragged girl with the eyes of a kicked dog.

Jeremy ignored the older boy’s obvious distraction glaring at the younger lad, warning him off.The youngster pressed in closer, smiling and chattering in a magpie-like stream of English sounding syllables. Jeremy felt a light touch on his unguarded back pocket.He kicked backward like a mule and heard a wail of pain.Jeremy withdrew his left fist from his pocket and flung a handful of coins behind the two boys. They pounced on the tiny shiny circles squabbling like seagulls over a discarded dinner.

The rumbled pickpocket lay on the curb behind him.She wore a tattered ‘I ♥ NY’ t-shirt as a dress leaving her bony legs bare.Although she was small, she was older than she looked.The beginnings of breasts were budding through the thin cloth.Her eyes were wide with fright.

“Ni er le ma?”Are you hungry? Jeremy asked.

She nodded in surprise, either at his Mandarin or his mercy. The girl took his extended hand and got up, eying him warily.

Checking over his shoulder that the two boys were still eagerly gathering up the coins from the gutter, Jeremy took a banknote from his right pocket and offered it to her.She held out both hands in the shape of a begging bowl and accepted the money with a smile and a grateful nod.Finger shaped bruises were visible on her upper arms. Someone had shaken her roughly and recently.

Why would someone do that to a girl, even if they were wretched and starving? He sighed.She’s probably not earning enough.

His inner cynic replied, Well, she’ll be earning more soon enough.

Jeremy strode away from the kids, silently wishing them the dual blessing of increased fortune and reversal of fate lauded by the banner.

At a major intersection, Jeremy looked about for some signage while trying not to appearlost.The few signs he could see without slowing his stride were in Mandarin and he only recognised half the characters.Again he wished he had studied his native language a bit harder in his youth.He consoled himself with the thought that Mandarin, as the language of bureaucracy, was intentionally difficult to read.

He stepped out of the narrow alley into a wider, better lit street and marvelled afresh at how the world had changed, simply by turning a corner.

After passing the entrances of several inviting casinos, Jeremy stopped at a classic Macau fusion of Art Deco glamour and Asian glitz.The exterior was a cross between a London West End theatre and the office of the Daily Planet.He passed through the tall glass doors into a blessed wall of cool air.A lifetime in Canada had set his personal thermostat much lower than his ancestral land allowed.

A fractal pattern of golden palm fronds spread across the lobby floor. He made a quick sweep of the room. A reception desk and three brass fronted elevators lay to his left.The far end of the lobby was dominated by a sweeping white and grey marble staircase with brass bannisters leading to the upper floors.A wall of thick smoked glass with a large pair of brass handled doors lay to his right.

His entrance was observed by a greeter; a well-groomed non-descript muscular type wearing an earpiece. The greeter gave him a curt nod that was both a courteousgreeting and permission to proceed.

Jeremy passed through the politely opened door, regretting for a moment his decision to throw his change at the street kids leaving him unable to tip the greeter. The doors opened into an antechamber containing an observation lounge from which one could see the main gaming pit below through a clear glass wall.The wall was a probably a one way mirror.

On the rear wall of the antechamber behind Jeremy was a bar staffed by an indifferent barmaid and stocked with a few hunch shouldered patrons.Heapproached the glass wall, grateful for the opportunity to discreetly observe the action without having to suffer the cacophony within.

Luck, luck, luck, thought Jeremy, watching delighted faces throw dice and blank faces ply cards. Where are you?

Jeremy scanned the room as methodically as a farmer works a field. Even at this late hour the tables were well patronised. He started at the PaiGow tables bottom left, worked upward to the blackjack tables, across to Sic Bo, along the roulette and across to the next bank of tables where the game was poker. With a gaze firm enough to plough a furrow, his keen black eyes flicked over the face of every gambler in a montage of success and failure, exuberance and indifference. He finished at the slot machines on the far wall where a bank of elderly gamblers diligently plied their machines with coins like factory workers on an assembly line.

Smooth, almost uniformly well-dressed business men of many ethnicities rubbed shoulders with elderly tourists in garish souvenir shirts. All were watched with cool cunning by several prostitutes dotted about the pit. Jeremy noted each lavishly presented ladyand the precise divisions of territory along the tables. A young apprentice was under the watchful eye of a madam posing as a gambler. In touting her wares the young woman stuck out her modest cleavage so far she was risking dislocation.

After ten minutes, Jeremy sighed in disappointment. He idly twirled the smooth tungsten ring on his right hand. He ran the ridges of his fingertips along the black engraved Greek letters. Σ Φ Α. Sigma Phi Alpha. He turned to leave.

The flick and click of a Zippo at the bar caught Jeremy’s attention. A small flame illuminated two faces. One, a very drunk Chinese man, lit a cigarette from the offered lighter and thanked the generous owner. The other face ought to be sporting a Stetson. Big chinned, good natured and homely with warm grey eyes topped with untidy sandy hair that looked two weeks overdue for a haircut. The silver Zippo was held in an enormous hand sporting an identical tungsten ring.

And there he was. Mister Lucky himself; Brett East. Often listed as ‘B. East’ and thus known to most as Beast; a misnomer as a character trait but apt as a physical description. Tall, rugged and not overly handsome, he was the only child of a Texan millionaire oilman; part good ole boy, part gentrified roughneck.He was usually an easy man to spot due to his impressive height of 6 foot 5 inches and a line backer physique.

Brett snapped the lid shut on his Zippo and placed it in his breast pocket. He returned to contemplating his glass of scotch.

Jeremy wandered up, slowly and obviously. Brett looked around. With a perfect double take, his face lit up and then dropped as Jeremy failed to reciprocate. Brett extended his hand and Jeremy shook it with a faint clink.

“Jeremy, what a surprise! How did you find me?”Brett’s deep voice boomed into the still antechamber, ruffling the other patrons’ cocoons of isolation.

“I just followed the trail of broken hearts and status updates.”

“Well, it’s good to see you bro.” Brett caught the attention of the bored barmaid, pointed at his own drink and then at Jeremy waving off Jeremy’s polite objection. The drunk Chinese smoker got up unsteadily, smiled at Jeremy and staggered, almost diagonally, to the lobby door where he was taken in hand by the greeter. Jeremy took a seat on the vacated stool next to Brett.

“Good to see you too, Beast. So…” Jeremy paused. He had rehearsed his pitch in the mirror so many times. Now that the moment had come, his confidence fled. “How’s the action?”

“Great. Too great.” Brett ran his thick fingers through his untidy sandy hair. “I got banned. Again.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah, well I’m thirty grand up, so… I dunno.Monaco next, I guess.” Brett gave a deep sigh. Behind the bravado, the sound of weariness and loneliness escaped from his lungs.

“So I guess you paid your dad back.” Jeremy instantly regretted the comment. Brett’s congenial face clouded over. There was a long pause, during which Jeremy’s drink arrived. Brett paid with a $50 chip and a ‘keep the change’ gesture. Even that didn’t raise a smile from the glum waitress.

“I’m hoping to do the same,” said Jeremy.

Brett looked across at him, now curious, and raised his glass. “Well, here’s to college roomies reunited.”

Jeremy smiled and returned the toast, “To increased fortunes.” As they sculled, the alternative translation whispered through his mind. And reversal of Fate.He manfully managed to keep the drink down for a second and then exploded in a fit of coughs. Jeremy’s embarrassment brought great mirth to his old friend.

Brett gave him a few slaps on the back. “Still can’t hold your liquor, huh?”

Brett ordered another round. They sat together in a moment of mutual remembrance at their shared predicament. Allocated as first year roommates by blind ballotthey had got on surprisingly well despite being polar opposites. Brett took instantly to his quiet studious new friend, recognising his potential as both tutor and designated driver.

Together they had pledged tothe Sigma Phi Alpha fraternity. Brett embraced his role as the brawn of the duo, employing his ox-like strength to shoulder the brunt of the drinking challenges, stupid dares and physical trials surrounding admission. Jeremy had kept his half of the unspoken bargain, checking Brett’s written work before submission, insisting on library visits and saving Brett from the worst of his drunken antics.