24
A crow pecks at a bowl of a pasta salad, its beak pushes past the cold peas, bell peppers and zucchini to a mayonnaised bacon bit which it swallows whole. It hops a few steps, flaps its wings then soars to what would be the blue of the sky but in heaven is just more white. It circles then swoops to an overturned car, its black eye nervously fixed on two heavenly servants straining against their pry bars as a slab of concrete is lifted and dumped on its side. The smashed body of a solider is pulled from underneath then dropped into a wheelbarrow as Chen, dressed in blue and white striped overalls, wipes the sweat from his forehead and looks over the rubble. Busted pieces of marble, fragments of statues, ceramic arms and elbows sprinkled with the black char of paper and wood decorate the grounds as thousands of servants scurry over the landscape. Chen looks to the top of a hill where a small group of immortals have gathered, strains to hear them over the sounds of picks and hammers and chisels clanging against the remnants of heaven.
“I’m here to reorganize the hegemonic misogynistic structure, remove the systems of implicit and explicit power that both directly orders and subtly manipulate us into ‘acting’ our parts to both continue the imperial order and keep us in our conceptual chains of understanding that reifies the notion that because things have been this way it’s how they’re supposed to be…”
Mara is standing, hand on hip, yelling at The Empress who is looking with increasing intensity at her shoes.
Chen listens for a while then jams his bar under a wood beam as Hong follows his lead. They work, not talking, trying to focus on what’s in front of them. Hong is breathing heavy, sloppy with his pick, grunting and sighing as he turns over another broken slab.
“What’s the matter with you? All this huffing and puffing. You have something to say?”
Hong drop his pick and folds his arms across his chest.
“I just hope you’re happy is all.”
“Happy?”
He points a gloved hand at him.
“You’re the one that was talking about how things needed to change.”
“I said I wanted two more weeks vacation,” Chen looks over his shoulder to Mara, “not this.”
“…and so what I want is a multiplicity of inclusive in-groups who organize themselves on their own principles but also value the diversity of its constituents with the same love and affection as the surrounding out-groups thus freeing people to pursue various modes of being and having the mobility to move around a wider array of political, social and economic systems than they ever have before, not so we can figure out which system is ‘best’ but so we can create a system which supports other systems and doesn’t impose its power without the explicit consent of...”
Chen pulls out a cigarette.
“We’re not supposed to.” Hong’s boot crunches the fragments of a jade toilet. “Aw, what the hell.” They smoke watching the other servants climb the soft hills of rubble, carting it off, reorganizing and preparing to rebuild.
“Can’t they use their magic,” he waves his hand, “to put it back together?”
Hong shakes his head.
“The more they use, the less time they have to live, and with the peach orchard destroyed…”
Chen takes a drag.
“What happened to sacrificing yourself for the greater good?”
“These are the immortals, the arhats, the bodhisattvas, picked by Buddha, enshrined with the knowledge of the ancients. You think you know better?”
Chen flips over a burned leather jacket, a black Elvis wig melted on the sleeve.
“I don’t know. Maybe. All I know is…”
“Look.” Hong interrupts pointing to the crow preening its black velvety wings. “An omen.”
Chen scans the burned-out car flipped upside down. One of the wheels is on fire slowly rotating as plumes of smoke spew from the melting rubber. A large crow is perched by the taillight. It stops preening and stares at him.
“That’s a crow.”
“It’s a sign.”
“A sign?” Chen shakes his head. “Who’s going to send them a sign?”
“It’s a bad omen. Everyone knows that.”
“Everyone except the crow.”
“The crow knows.”
The crow continues to stand on the car looking back and forth between Chen and Hong.
“The crow knows he’s a bad omen? What kind of life is that?”
Hong throws his hands in the air.
“I don’t make the rules.”
“They’re the ones making the rules,” he points his lit cigarette at the immortals arguing on the hill.
“You do think you know better, don’t you?”
“I know a bad rule when I see it.”
“What’s a good rule then? If you’re so smart, what rule would you make?”
Chen scratches his head.
“I’d start with not having crows curse things.”
“What would they do then?”
“They’d be crows. They’d fly around. I don’t know what crows do.”
“Anarchy then.”
“I can’t tell a crow how to be a crow.”
Hong smiles.
“And that’s why you’re not an immortal.”
He hoists his pick on his shoulder and goes back to work. Chen digs his bar into the rubble and strains against a slab of granite. They work in silence, the picks and hammers transforming the quiet of heaven into a strange atonal song of wood beams splintering, marble thrown into metal wheel barrows, the high pitched ding of hammers and the soft thud of a thousand picks digging in and pulling back.
Hong wipes the sweat from his face.
“Say, I made a rule and it was the best rule you’ve ever heard.”
Chen stops digging.
“I thought we were done talking about this?”
“Say I made an incredible rule.”
“Ok. You’ve made the greatest rule of all time. What’s your point?”
“Who would listen? We’re heavenly servants. They’re immortals.”
“So because it comes out of their mouths, it makes it true?”
“I could tell that bird to act like a pig but what good would it do? No one listens. And why would they?" Hong picks up a rock. “I know I’m not smart enough to make the rules, and so does everyone else around here except for you. That,” Hong points, “is a bad omen. I know because everyone knows, and I’m sick of you trying to confuse something that’s simple.”
He chucks the rock into the empty window of the car. It rattles around as the crow beats its wing and lifts in the air. Chen watches it circle then land on a tree branch overlooking the immortals.
“I’m going to go up there.”
“What are you going to do up there?”
“I’m going to listen. If we can’t have a say, we at least deserve to hear about it.”
Chen throws down his bar and marches up the hill. The tiny blurry faces of the immortals come into sharper focus. The blood drains from his body as he recognizes faces he’s only heard in stories. He stops halfway up, bends over and starts picking up the trash along the grassy slope, gives a quick glance over to Guanyin who’s standing under a tree with Darlene looking puzzled as she awkwardly holds a phone, staring at the strange pictures in front of her.
“You want to line up all the candy pieces. You see those little purple berries?” Darlene pokes the screen with her finger.” You want three of ‘em and then they disappear and more fall down. No, you see what you did? You have to plan ahead cause now the ones above aren’t lining up. Let me show you.”
She takes the phone as Guanyin looks on in frustration.
Mara, The Empress and Lao Tzu are off to one side arguing as Pig stands with his hands in his pockets by Nezha, Erlang and Ricky. The Bull Demon chats with Princess Iron Fan and Red Boy. Monkey squats by himself, digging through the bits and pieces of heaven. He pushes away a silver platter and underneath is The Jade Emperor’s crown. All of the talking stops as they watch him trace his finger around the jewels, the gold filigreed tips. He looks up noticing the silence, all of the eyes fixed on his small monkey hand. He smiles with all his teeth then tosses it to Darlene.
“What do I need a crown for,” he stands brushing off the dirt. “I’m already a king.”
“The question isn’t what to do with the crown. The question,” Mara says stretching out each word, “is why we need a king?” She throws her one arm up in exasperation. “This isn’t about replacing him, we have to burn the whole thing to the ground!”
“You really are your father’s daughter,” The Bull Demon says winking.
The Empress ignores them, her eyes resting on Darlene.
“Walk with me, would you?” Darlene puts her phone down. Thumbs her chest. “Just the two of us.” She smiles a short curt smile then glides over the heavenly rubble as Darlene reluctantly follows behind. “You didn’t…how should I put this…ask for any of this did you?”
”I didn’t ask for most things that’s happened to me.” She kicks what looks like a pinecone in front of her. “This is another I guess.”
The Empress nods. Smiles the tiniest smile.
“You seem to be a reasonable woman…” Darlene narrows her eyes, “and Monkey seems to like you.”
“Yeah. What of it?”
“There’s lots of problems in the world, and as you have unfortunately witnessed, we have our own set of problems in Heaven. Monkey has been…difficult…historically speaking. I know you like him and all of this seems very,” she pauses, “exciting right now, but what I’m letting you know is there’s a long history you may not be aware of as someone who’s only been alive for…”
“A lady don’t tell.”
The Empress presses out another smile.
”I’m a million three hundred and seventy six thousand nine hundred and fifty two years old.” She touches her slender fingers to her chest. “I don’t have to worry about being a lady because I’m The Empress. And you my dear, don’t have to worry about,” she spreads her hands out, “all of this,” then clasps them together,” and there’s no reason Monkey should be worrying about it either.”
“And?”
”And wouldn’t it be better if he were occupied with more immediate concerns?”
Darlene mulls this over.
“Ma’am, are you asking me to have sex with a monkey?”
The Empress puts her hand over her face. Rubs her temple.
“Let’s try this another way. What is it that you want Darlene? To go home?”
Darlene looks down at her ruby slippers. Taps her heels together. There’s a scrap of mirror lying on the ground. She stands over it, her torn blue checked dress, smeared makeup, the smoke rising behind her.
“Go home? I got a god damn flaming sword,” she turns it over in her hands, “and I don’t even know how to make it stop.”
“I can make it stop. For you. If you want. You just have to tell me and all of this will be over. There are things that are about to happen that require less…” her eyes rest on Monkey, “chaos. This is no place for a moody monkey, a young boy or,” she turns back to Darlene, “a waitress.”
“Don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.” She pats her stomach. “Look lady, I’ve been kicked outta better places than this. Give me a minute though.” She twirls a finger in the air. “Got to talk one last loop around. Get my head straight. Mull it over, before I head home, ok?”
The Empress raises her head, her eyebrows arched then smiles curtly as she walks back towards Mara and Lao Tzu.
Darlene looks in her wicker basket to Lil’ Darlene who’s rolled up in a ball inside the crown.
“Frog in boiling water. That’s what this is. Let a little weirdness in then pretty soon your chopping people’s heads off with a flaming sword in the sky.”
Lil’ Darlene looks up with her wet black eyes then puts her head down and goes back to sleep.
Darlene surveys the landscape, fixes her eyes on a heavenly servant running back down the hill to another one that’s smoking. She watches as he tosses his cigarette and no sooner does it hit the ground then she scoops it up, turns it between her thumb and forefinger.
“Hell of a day.” She takes a few long puffs. “Jesus. Lord this is good.” She throws them a glance. “Didn’t mean to…you know…” She takes a deep inhale then lets out a cloud of smoke. Looks at their picks and shovels and bars leaning against the wheelbarrow. “What’d you have to do to get a shit detail like this?”
Hong frowns.
“This is a reward for a life lived in service.”
“Hate to see what they do to the people they don’t like.”
“Who are you exactly?”
“Oh,” she sticks the cigarette in her mouth and extends a hand. “Darlene. Was the heavenly protector of the peach orchard, but you know, now I’m,” she exhales, “between jobs really. Thinking about my next move.” She drops the butt on the ground and stamps it with her ruby slipper. “How bout you? You guys trapped here by some heavenly spell or are you thinking of high tailing it now that the whole thing’s gone to shit?”
“I guess we can leave but…who would…” he scratches his head. “There’s so much work to do.”
“Work huh?” She scans the hillside watching the servants hauling wheelbarrows of debris around. “What’s something like this pay up here?”
”Pay?”
“Mullah. Dinero. Cash. You got a heavenly union? Something to keep the management in line?”
Chen looks over at Hong.
“I died in 1636. He starved to death in the…when was that?”
“1854.”
“Neither of us have been back since.”
“Oh.” Darlene ponders this as she digs the toe of her ruby slipper into the rubble. “Got shot in the head at a gas station.” They both nod. “Feels weird to chit chat about it. Suppose that’s what you do around a bunch of dead people.” She stares at the smashed cigarette butt on the ground. “What were we talkin’ bout?”
“Unions.”
“That’s right. It’s like, when you have problems with the management, you go on strike. Does that make sense?” They look at her blankly. “A bunch of dudes standing around with signs and you make up chants and yell and drink and hang out. Never been to one, but I’ve passed ‘em driving and I’ve seen them on the TV. Most important part is to stop working. That way nothing gets done and everything goes to shit till they meet your demands. And you cuss and yell like I was saying at the people that don’t join and what not.”
“What kind of demands? Like more vacation?”
”Sure. Higher pay. Dental plans. Things like that. Those guys back there…” She looks behind her but everyone has gone except Ricky who’s holding his phone looking for service. “Son of a…”
“They left as soon as you came over.”
Darlene watches Ricky wander around craning his phone above his head.
“You know who that is?”
“We thought he was with you.”
She narrows her eyes.
“He ain’t some evil ogre that takes the shape of a teenage boy is he?” Darlene picks up a rock. “I’ll be back,” and stomps out across the rubble.
Ricky stands on top of the hill holding his phone high above his head, looking for bars. Something small breezes his ear, and he turns only to be smacked in the shoulder with a pebble. He lowers his phone and sees Darlene, arm cocked back, moving in on him.
“You threw a rock at me.”
“That’s right.”
Darlene keeps her distance.
”Why did you throw a rock at me?”
”You some kind of hideous monster under there?”
Ricky looks down at his shirt.
“I’m…a teenager.”
She snorts, says something under her breath then walks over.
“Never thought I’d be happy to see a teenager.”
Ricky eyes her suspiciously.
“Are you going to throw more rocks at me?”
Darlene looks him up and down.
”Not right now.” She swings her basket around to her other shoulder. “What’s your story kid?”
“I came here with Pig and Mara. Do you know them.” She nods. ”They blew up a gas station.”
”That sounds like them.”
”There was this red guy with fancy robes that shot lasers out of his face. Do you know him?”
”Look kid, I don’t know everybody. Just spit it out”
“He exploded so I took his jewel then we drove to this junk yard and a fat Asian man with a guitar played this music and an umbrella trapped us and we were dumped out in a jail cell but Mara hid in Pig’s stomach and cut herself out with her sword. We escaped but then I was separated in this party where everyone dressed like my parents on Halloween and I ate some food and was having a good time but then everyone started fighting and the building collapsed.”
Darlene nods.
“That’s the stupidest story I’ve ever heard,” she looks down toward The Jade Pool, “which means it’s probably true.” Takes one of her heels off and dumps a few pieces of gravel out. “You ain’t one of those ‘wise beyond your years teenagers’ that’s filled with sage advice are you?”
“I…don’t think so.”
She puts her heel back on.
“Where’s your mother? She must be worried sick?”
“She’s not worried.”
“One of those huh?” She reaches down, carefully picks through a pile of broken glass then pulls out two beers. Offers one to Ricky who accepts. “I had one like that.” Pops the cap off the corner of a marble countertop. “Let’s just say I wasn’t surprised I didn’t see her up here.”
”Because she wasn’t Asian?”
“Ha! No, my mom used to tell me, ‘Darlene, you’ve got one job in life. Don’t be bitter.’ Course she’d tell me that after flicking a cigarette at my head, so, there was,” she takes a drink, “mixed messages.”
Ricky takes a sip. Winkles his face then takes another.
”What do you think is going to happen?”
Darlene shrugs
“I don’t know. Suppose we get on with our lives, though at the moment, I don’t know what life I have to get along with.” She wrinkles her brow. “Don’t know whether I should be worried ‘bout the fact that I’m not worried or whether I should just keep on keepin’ on. Maybe questioning it all is pointless and I’m just wasting what I got left. You ever feel like that?”
“All the time.”
Darlene holds her beer towards him and he looks at it unsure of what to do.
“You’re supposed to cheers me. It’s too late. Nevermind.” She pulls it back and takes a swig. “Take it serious Darlene.” She thumbs her chest. “I tell myself that, looking around at all these solemn faces discussing this and that like it’s the end of the world. Everybody seems to care so much how things turn out, but me, I don’t know. Guess I never really cared ‘bout what comes next. Take it serious Darlene. Weird part is I hear it in my mom’s voice.” She glances over. “That ever happen to you?” Ricky shakes his head. “It don’t matter. How can I take it serious when I’m sitting in Heaven which, in its current condition, is slightly less organized than the Jacksonville dump, and here I am, sword aflame, drinking beers with a teenager named…”
”Ricky.”
”Named Ricky.” She takes a swig. “Take it serious. There’s a headless emperor and his cranky wife and every time I turn the corner it’s one more unbelievable thing that’s yelling at me or asking me for something or wanting to get burritos. You don’t smoke do you?” Ricky shakes his head. Darlene digs in her basket, then gives up and sets it down. “Remember the first time I saw a flamingo. I was seven years old at the zoo with the neighbor’s kids. The Carlsons. I walked up to that metal fence they had lining all the habitats and I peeked over and saw this pink thing walking around and I remember thinking, ‘That can’t be right. That ain’t supposed to exist,’ but there it was in front of me, and then, I kid you not, I thought in my tiny seven year old brain, ‘man, I really don’t understand this place. I thought I did, but look at this strange beautiful thing in front of me. You tell me this world makes sense with a long legged pink bird that’s joints bend the wrong way.” She takes a swig. “And then,” she waves her beer in front of her, “there’s all this.” She turns to Ricky. “How’s a woman supposed to take this serious? It’s their own fault they made it so god damn unbelievable, you know what I mean?” She looks over and sees Ricky drinking his beer. “Give me that. What’s the matter with you?”
She takes it from him. Holds a beer in each hand. Takes a drink from one then the other.
“Giving alcohol to minors. This is when people would say, ‘momma raised me better’. Course she didn’t. Not that I blame the woman. I just hate her is all. When you get as old as me you can make those finer distinctions.” She finishes one bottle, tosses it in the air then watches it sail down and shatter against the rubble. “You know what, I’m sick of thinking ‘bout myself.” She slaps him on the back. “Ricky you don’t often hear adults tell you this, but sometimes we get bored with our own depression and then we move on to something else. We don’t figure anything out. We don’t come to some great realization. It’s like I’m watching this bad tv show, and I don’t know why I’m watching it, cause I hate everyone on it and then one day for no apparent reason it just strikes me. Turn this shit off. I’m done. And then I move on to something that’s not so stupid.” She raises a finger. “Nobody likes to admit that, but if I had to be honest,” she looks him over, “and I don’t, but if I had to, most problems go away, cause we get busy with other problems. I’m sick of these problems,” she says gesturing at nothing. “Give me some other problems for awhile.” She puts her arm around him. “Take you for instance. I can see your problems clear as day, and those are problems I understand. Those are problems I can wrap my arms around and do something about. I don’t know where the hell I belong or what I’m supposed to do but I know for a god damn fact that you don’t belong here, and that however incompetent of a mother you might have, she at least deserves to reminded of what a shit job she’s doing by seeing those bright eyes looking back at her.”
Ricky smiles.
“I like you Darlene.”
”Yeah, I know.” She stands. “C’mon, we gotta get you home. Let’s figure this shit out together cause I don’t know if I can do anything else right now.”
Ricky sticks his arm out and she takes it wobbling a bit as they make their way toward The Jade Pool.
The crow clutches a low hanging branch, watches them leave, bobs in the breeze then takes off, sails over the remnants of the palace, past the jade pool grey with ash, over the burnt smear of the peach orchard to a squatty hut with a pointed roof. It circles the house then folding its wings, dives down into the small black rectangle of the chimney and disappears.