* * * * *
That the girl is still unconscious worries him much. He’s watching over her. He runs both of his hands through his massive curls. His facial expression reflects the tension and the stress that he’s feeling. W.K. is cursing just about everyone he knows, in his mind. He hardly ever curses aloud. Aside from being an inherently cool and suave guy, he can be quite the proper gentleman.
W.K. looks at the girl. He thinks that she might be a little too young for him.
‘How am I ever going to get out of this one? I can’t possible fall in love with this girl. She’s just a teen! Maybe. Probably just a teen.’, he utters quietly.
He looks at her. Unconscious on the bed, she’s dressed in a plain white T-shirt and denim pedal pants. Her hair’s in a tight ponytail. Her skin has the same pale sheen as that of a china doll’s. She’s slender as wish bones, but has full breasts. She wasn’t wearing running shoes or tennis sneakers. The girl was wearing a pair of black T-strap sandals. W.K. shakes his head at this particular observation.
‘Poor girl. You’re a great thief, I give you that. But, poor girl! You’re as seductive as any nymph could be…you’re not my type, though. But then again, I wouldn’t know what my type is. If I even have one. I don’t think about these things. Never had to think about women’s figures, the make of a woman, or a type…my type. Ten days to fall in love. Me? What in the world? Right shoe, who is this girl please? Who is she and how do I wake her up?’
* * * * *
Before Right is able to answer, W.K. decides to awaken the girl with a kiss. It might work. But which part of her face to kiss? He was indeed stumped.
W.K. knew that he was thinking like a fool and that he was just about to act like a stupid fool (because a fool is someone else, someone distinct and apart from a stupid fool-the former being much worse than the latter) but Charles didn’t care. He just wanted for the girl to wake up. When he’d already decided to awaken her by kissing her lips, W.K. suddenly felt the pressing need to succumb to one of his infamous fits of temper.
‘Rubbish. This really is such rubbish!’, exclaims W.K.
‘I surely know better than this. Kiss the target in order to wake her up? I ought to wring her neck while she’s sleeping. Rubbish, garbage, and assignment duly turned in. I could always argue it out with SS, FS, and FE in this way: I had ten days to fall in love, quote (.) unquote_ _ _. Your words, my dearest superiors_ _ _. The girl was my assignment. With all due respect, for I am about to lose my cool, yet again…my dearest stupid superiors did neglect to expressly state a very important detail. Was she who I was supposed to learn with? Learn what love is with? Well? Ask me what I think and I’ll say that I did choose the right course of action. I’ve made no blunder. No. None at all.’
This was one way to argue. The easiest way. Away from his superiors’ outrageously ludicrous attack on W.K.’s equilibrium, masked as an agent’s mission that should, in Charles’s words, ‘have been immediately trashed from the moment of its conception’.
‘I really should string her now. Now is the best time. It would shame my superiors, and they’d think all the better of me, for it, afterwards.’
* * * * *
There are many reasons for someone to make it as an intelligence agent for the projects. One reason is deeply seeded in the simplest meaning denoted by the first term in W.K.’s professional label. Intelligence is this first term.
An intelligence agent or I.A. would have to possess a considerable amount of subordinate intelligence. Subordinate intelligence, aside from its proper definition: the ability of any follower to think in all kinds of admirable ways; the compound word also connotes: having a keen sense of responsibility and being in possession of a great respect for the value of obedience.
Charles has hardly ever delighted in the meaning of obedience, but he has always preferred and with a large amount of amusement attached to this preference of his, the meaning of this word: compliance.
To him, there is much weight in this word and the weight of its definition is largely drawn from the basics of honor.
* * * * *
W.K. was truly feeling concern for the girl and Charles had but one problem. It was quite the problem for any intelligence worker. More so, for any Malaysian Intelligence Agent (MIA). Even far more so, if the MIA is a man who is known as W.K.
And so, W.K’s problem could be considered something greater than an inconvenience and yet, lesser than a minor catastrophic cause.
W.K. wasn’t sure if violating the girl by way of a kiss from him, would indeed function as he would have it function. It, being the kiss from Charles which W.K. was still considering.
He has yet to decide; W.K. has yet to make the rather pressing choice as the preceding statements have indicated.
* * * * *
“Should I, or should I not impose a kiss on you?, says Charles, looking at the girl on the bed.
“I don’t even know what her name is.”
* * * * *
“Right (referring to the tip of his right shoe), I ought to trade you in exchange of a pair of snow boots, but I can’t. I like patent leather shoes. It’s just the way that I am. It’s the way I’m staying. So please. Stop acting like a tired old shoe. I noticed. My MIA- IQ is at least 9168, you know? Oh, you don’t remember? I’d have to remind you then, is it the case with you today, Right? I, Charles Su…actually have to remind a mere shoe…”
But, what Charles has uttered so far, is enough for the tired old Right. Meaning, the Malaysian Intelligence Agent’s tired, old, smart, and right shoe.
The lights of the room dimmed and W.K.’s zealous Left (Left is relatively newer than Charles’s Right) begins to cooperate with Right.
[W.K. had lost Right’s initial partner while learning how to throw poisonous snow balls in Prague, when the agent was much younger. Let us place that time at about three years from today.]
Left dims the lights in the room and projects a series of beautiful disco lights that shift, jag, and zig zag. Darting pinks, darting blues, darting oranges, greens, and glittered hues. On the ceiling, on the floor, on Charles’s pretty curls; imbuing him with a bit of a daze by way of a little smite on the I.A.’s thoughts. On his thoughts which manage to evade the scrutiny of even W.K.’s maker.
Then, Left, acting as an ardent page to the MIA, produces a hologram of John Legend, working underground for the projects.
Legend, dressed in Sean Jean (they’re very good friends), smiles at W.K. before filling the room with the pop singer’s signature sugary baritone.
Her name is Melanie./ Says she digs my melody./…
* * * * *
Now, Charles doesn’t appreciate humor from technology. He possesses no appreciation for any kind of amusement that is offered through the wanton trickery of I.T.
And John Legend, considering the time, its lateness, provokes Charles to yell, shout, roar, and yell.
‘Do you know what time it is, Left? I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m tired. It’s late and I’ve had enough. I’ve just about had enough of what I’m obliged to find acceptable.’
‘That’s enough. I’ve had enough!’
W.K. goes into a rage. He starts to undress. He starts to get rid of all the technology that he’s obligated to wear for the projects. First, he flings Right off and then kicks Left away. Left’s kicked almost completely undone. It lands at the foot of the bed. W.K. takes his pink shirt off, in one motion. He rolls the sad specimen of a shirt that’s meant to be worn as an intelligent shirt. He lays it on the floor, beneath his shoeless feet. Then Charles proceeds to jump up and down on the rolled up shirt, hoping to bring absolute damage to smart shirt’s buttons and company.
W.K. is angry. John Legend is still singing in the middle of the room, thoroughly unmindful of W.K.’s rage. Legend is completely oblivious to the agent’s ridiculous state of abhorrent rage.
The hologram was a set telecast. The singer was putting on a show for the sake of one of W.K.’s comrades. A comrade from the projects, but this MIA was working on his assignment (a provocative project and a very exciting one, too) in Japan.
The chaotic sounds of rage, revelry, and resolve awaken the girl. Her shriek penetrates the chaos of this scene in just the most indescribable way, but we shall try to do this shriek of her, justice. Justice due such a shriek only seems right. (Don’t you think?)
Not only does it seem right, it is something undeniably crucial. There is everything possible and everything duly right to be found in the structure of crucial details.
* * * * *
The girl’s name is really Melanie. She is a member of the John Legend Forever Fan’s Club, based in San Antonio Village. San Antonio Village is located in Pasig City, Philippines. In fact, Melanie is the treasurer of the said fan’s club.
Melanie Kandelaria managed to let out such a shriek because: 1. there was a half naked man, with a very angry look on his face, who seemed to be about to attack her in the most savage manner; 2. she was on a bed, in a room which did not appear to be a room. The room appeared to be a room within a room and this room looks like it is about to shed its external container and to break its internal make into many, many pieces. The room looks like a room shifting from one form to a disparate else. Scene Title: A mutation of a room or A room’s mutation. As you would have it, the arrangement of these words. The sequence of words mean nothing much and the order of words, in statements, does not matter when the words are carefully ordered and retain the same signified; 3. She remembered that she had missed the monthly John Legend Forever Fan’s Club meeting because she had to accomplish a small errand for family’s sake. Not such a small errand if one takes note of this fact: “It was a favor for my sister! I lifted your watch in behalf of my sister!”, Melanie declares.
Mel lets out a worse kind of shriek; worse than the first and yet this second shriek had a slightly more sonorous quality to it, being that she had shrieked an “Ay-ieeeeeeeee!!!!!!” on the second cry. Not Ayyyyyyyyyyy-yah-beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!. The first shriek had been an Ayyyyyyyyyyy-yah-beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!.
W.K. gets it at once. He utters, “Then, I had better let you go.”
* * * * *
Melanie is crying. W.K. didn’t know what to do, again.
* * * * *
W.K. argues with the girl. He argues with her in a rather nice way.
‘Please, please, please. Please stop crying. And, alright. I will give you this hologram of John Legend as a gesture of peace between us. A gift given in earnest for the sake of peace and a gift that I wish you would accept in the spirit of a secret which is to be kept. Kept in order for it to remain as what it is. And precisely what is here, what we are to have, should you decide to accept what I have offered, again, for the sake of peace, what we are to have is a mutual secret.’
‘I accept,’ answered Melanie. Her response was unexpected and her response made Charles smile. And Charles did not usually smile.
To see WK smile is to have a glimpse of the sun, but in Malaysia, it rains and it pours. In Malaysia, it always rains. W.K.’s smile is very much attuned to the weather in the intelligence agent’s country of birth. This is why Charles does not usually smile.
However, relief was an emotion that the I.A. hardly felt, as well. And so this occasion where a smile from WK had been suddenly collected, due to circumstance and due to a girl’s weeping, can be considered a rare exception.
Rare because relief and the weather meeting as relevant forces which manage to motivate the emission of a smile, on a serious man’s perpetually formal manner of physical expressions, is not an ordinary subject to write about in an expository way. An exception, since it was the very first time that Charles had ever tried to solicit a response from a woman without being consciously aware of the very point to his observable endeavors.
Charles had only this to think, ‘At some point, I must have said some of my words, with much grace. Though, I did not really mean to say such things, with any kind of grace, at all. Now, I do think that I might start to reconsider my entire approach to this world. Grace to be found in verbal garbage? This, I just might find to be lovely, if I am to give the argument some more thought. A beautiful world? Beauty in this kind of world that I have? Well. For the time being, I must admit, and in fact, I am very proud to admit with a lot of defiance and with a lot of conviction, I am firmly and fairly stumped.’
Charles smiles again, after thinking and because of his thoughts. Another smile to be had from W.K. Now rare but not an exception, this second and sudden smile. Not an exception because the I. A. has always allowed himself to smile freely, for his sole sake, when confronted with proof of the depths of his unique and admirable wit.
* * * * *
W.K. has always tried to steer clear and far away from all kinds of pleasantries. He was not the sort of man who is naturally pleasant towards women and girls. W.K. is a man’s world I.A. Although in Intelligence School, W.K. had about 25 units of FMMF Protocol.
FMMF stands for Female-Male-Male-Female, where the dashes are symbolic of the word, /to/. The complete name of the aforementioned I.S. course is Female to Male Male to Female Protocol.
FMMF Protocol Course Outline:
FMMF Conduct and Manners (3) units
Casual Relations (3) units
Prolonged Relations (3) units
Prolonged Relations (3) units
Intimate Relations (3) units
Intimate Relations 101 (3) units
FMMF Protocol WCBNR-HCIAM:
Falling In Love (2) units
Courtship (2) units
Philosophy of FMMFP (3) units
W.K. was brooding. ‘Now, I remember that I had taken all the FMMF Protocol classes. All of them. But why can’t I remember any of my WCBNR-HCIAM [With-Credits-But-Not-Required-However-Compliance-Is-A-Must] FMMFP course subjects? I had the highest scores and the best papers. I turned in all kinds of brilliant do-at-homes.’
He starts to converse with a shoe. ‘Left, why? Won’t you bring me a W.H.Y. file, please? I am sure that you know what I’m thinking about.’
It was more of a question than the kind of statement that represents any of W.K.’s patented polite orders.
W.K. does not ask for help. He doesn’t ask for favors. But if W.K. needs assistance, any form of assistance, W.K. asks questions.
He will ask a question when he needs help. If he really needs help.
‘Left, please hurry. I asked you a question, didn’t I?’
* * * * *
Smart shoe Left replies with a female voice, ‘Indeed, Charles. Why. Yes. You can’t remember, do you? You can’t remember. Indeed.’
It’s the first that W.K. has heard in the machine’s voice. ‘You’re a woman, Left?’, W.K. asks.
‘A woman. I’d never… never in years. No wonder you’ve always been kinder and more generous than Right, towards me. I’d always thought that Right was the girl between the two of you. I was obviously wrong to think this.’
Every MIA shoe has a gender likeness. Shoes had to be male and female. Male when right and female when left. For balance. The MIAO (Malaysian Intelligence Agents Offices) master inventor is a great admirer of C.G. Jung. MIA smart machines had to possess some philosophical psychology. Otherwise, Communists and Muslim terrorists would be running this world.
* * * * *
(to be continued)