China Mountain Zhang

I come to when they're cutting the harness off. They cut off the sharkskin jacket, too, because I've dislocated my left shoulder. 'What happened,' I keep saying, 'what happened?'

'An accident,' Georgia says, 'you're okay, honey.'

They've given me something, because I'm way out to the vacuum, and I can't think of the questions I want to ask, so I keep saying, 'What happened?'

'Orchid got in. Almost everybody's in,' Georgia says.

'Who's not in?'

'Cinnabar,' she says, 'he went down in The Swath.'

Well, of course, you probably remember everything else since it was all over the media. How Cinnabar Chavez broke his spine. That they did surgery, and that it was awhile before they were sure he would live.

He was in bad shape for a long time but he's okay now. He lives in Brooklyn with his lover, I still see him a lot. He doesn't fly anymore. Surgery is wonderful, so is therapy, and he's still a sweet dancer, but he couldn't trust his reflexes in a race. He has a job as a consultant for Cuo, the company that makes the big kites, and he does commentary for one of the big vid organizations. His income is steady these days.

Mine is pretty good these days, too. I fly a big black and red kite for Citinet; a Chiyue, the new one. My synch numbers are in the 50's, and my picture's on the front of Passion next month. I'm wearing the red sharkskin jacket-I had it fixed-and the article is titled 'Gargoyle's an Angel!' which is kind of cute.

I fly better these days. Cinnabar bitches about it, he says I'm too far out in front of myself. Sometimes when he says that I think of bringing that Siyue in and trying to get in front of it to stop it. But that's what the people want, right?

Besides, I can't say it to him, but I'd rather be dead than not able to fly.

BAFFIN ISLAND (Zhang)

I am unemployed.

The man who hands me the application says, 'Filled out one before.' It's supposed to be a question. He doesn't look up to see my answer so I don't say anything. I hope my interviewer will be waiguoren-not Chinese. Or if Chinese, at least huaqiao, like me. Perhaps an overseas person will be more sympathetic to another overseas person, unless, perhaps they have to prove that they're as tough as a Chinese with citizenship. You can never tell, but I always feel Chinese are the worst.

I sit at the karal. Surname: Zhang. Given name: Zhong Shan. China Mountain Zhang. My foolish mother. It's so clearly a huaqiao name, like naming someone Nikolai Lenin Smith or Karl Marx Johnson. Zhong Shan, better known in the west as Sun Yat-sen, one of the early leaders of the great revolution in China, back in the first days, the days of virtue. The man who held up the sky, like a mountain. Irony.

But better that than Rafael Luis.

I give my address, really Peter's address out in Coney Island as I'm Without Residence. When one has no job one cannot afford the decadent luxury of paying one's landlord, and one must accept government housing or stay with friends or family. I have been staying with Peter for almost six months. Soon I'll have to apply for government housing, I can't keep living with Peter. Living in Virginia won't be so bad, it is only ninety minutes to Journal Square Station in New Jersey, lots of people do it everyday. If one is unemployed, the train is free at off-peak hours.

IDEX: 415-64-4557-ZS816. Trade Designation: Construction Tech. Job Index: Comex Constr., 65997. Comex Constr. wants administrative experience I don't have, but I have three years experience in construction. In school, I wanted to be an Engineering Tech and my math scores were good, but there were no openings that year. I have an Assoc. Certificate instead of the full Bach. Sci.

I should study on the side, teach myself, take the exam. I should. Maybe when I get a job, have a place of my own again, I'll study in the evening after I get home from work, spend less time going out, waste less time and money. I've said it before, every time I was without a job.

I hand my application to the man at the desk, he glances up at me, his lips move while he keys into the network and puts my application on file, then he peels the contact off his wrist. 'Have a seat,' he says. I sit and read my paper. The waiting room is large, large enough to be a cafeteria or something. There are a lot of people, twenty or thirty, but that's not enough for the size of the room. While I'm reading more people hand in applications, people waiting are called for interviews. I want to check the time, but why? Time doesn't matter to me, I'm unemployed.

Still, I notice it is almost an hour before I'm called. My interviewer is a woman, a huaqiao I am sure. She looks too New York to be from China itself.

'Zhang,' she says in English, 'you have insufficient administrative experience for the job you are applying for.' Her hair is pulled smoothly back from her face, shining as if lacquered. It is caught with a red cord, and the short ponytail curves under like a 'c'.

I nod.

She looks at the screen in front of her. 'You have turned down two alternative offerings.'

'I had hoped to stay in New York,' I say. One job was in Maryland, the other was in Arizona. If I turn down another alternative it will go on my record. Perhaps she won't have an alternative.

She says to me in Mandarin, 'You are from New York?' She is clearly huaqiao, she has a New York accent.

'I'm from Brooklyn,' I say.

'I'm from Brooklyn, too,' she says. 'You like Coney Island?'

'I am staying with a friend, but I like it much better than I expected,' I say. 'When I get a job I expect to get a place there.'

'I am thinking of joining a co-op group,' she says.

So nice! An interviewer has never talked to me so personally. No doubt it is because of the address, but maybe she'll give me the job. I study her. Watch her bite her bottom lip in concentration. She has lines at the corners of her eyes, but the way she frowns makes her look very young.

Finally she sighs. 'Bukeqi, tongzhi,' she says. 'I am sorry citizen.' 'I cannot give this to someone with so little admin experience.' The polite address softens the blow.

I nod. I understand. I thank her.

'Let me check new listings,' she says, 'Sometimes things do not get posted.' She feels badly, she wants to offer me something.

It is a kindness, I should not expect anything but I cannot help hoping. She is relieved she can do something. I watch her flick through entries. She stops and I become more hopeful. She reads quickly then flicks expressionlessly forward. At each flick she shakes her head slightly. Her lips are the perfect rose of a doll's mouth. They shine like satin. She begins to flush, she is not so happy now. Something is wrong. An alternative, not a good one, I am sure. Do not offer it, I think, pretend you didn't see it.

She straightens her shoulders. 'Zhang, I have a job available for someone of your experience,' she says, in English. She names a salary which is three times my present salary. She doesn't look at me. 'It is working at a research center, the salary is high because you will have to live at the facility, but it is a six month contract with the option to extend or renew.'

'Where is it?' I ask.

' Baffin Island.'

Baffin Island? Where the hell is Baffin Island?

'It is in the Arctic Circle,' she says primly, handing me a card with the specs, but not looking at me. 'You have forty-eight hours to decide on the job, should you want me to hold it for you, otherwise you risk someone taking it from you while you make up your mind.'

'Don't hold it,' I say.