Prologue
People.
I hate people.
My God, do I hate people. Fat people, skinny people… I don’t even hate a specific type of people. Just…people. In fact, I hate all kinds of people. I hate people of all race, creed and gender and of all walks of life. Rich and poor. It doesn’t matter. See? I do not discriminate! Really…I don’t. I just hate people.
I hate old people. I hate young people. I hate depressed people and even more, I hate happy people. So why I’m here on a cold, foggy and miserable day standing in a sea of people graduating after almost a decade of supposedly “higher” education with a doctorate in anthropology is beyond me.
Yes. Anthropology. Every single one of my ancestors (and believe me I’m Chinese, I have a lot of them) from the past 72 generations must be eagerly awaiting my death just so that I can be reincarnated as a moth or worse, a butterfly. I hate bugs.
But if there was one thing I hated more than people…it would be the cold.
I hate how it creeps up on you. Silent, not knowing you’re getting cold until it’s too late and your various appendages have already started to tingle. I hate the clammy feel of fog clinging desperately to my freshly cleaned graduation gown like a drowning sailor going down on a ship after accidentally setting it on fire.
Yet here I am, despite all that, amidst a sea of black hats and a mountain of black robes. I wonder if it was life or karma that’s laughing at me. Possibly both…or it could be the seething mass waste of perfectly-breathable-and-exceedingly-precious-gas-known-as-oxygen next to me.
I turn around slowly and deliberately, a lá Exorcist style, to flash the impudent worm of a peasant next to me the infamous Chinese Kung Fu Death Glare delivered via my left optic organ. Which I have been told once…or twice…cannot be recovered from and once seen, much like the legendary basilisk’s eye or a certain bald former pop singer’s woman’s area, will remain firmly etched on the back of one’s retina for the remainder of one’s life.
Much to my shock once I turn around, not only was this…resplendent creature not a pasty, acne ridden brainless fat globule. It, nay he! He is a tanned, straight toothed, fellow bifocal wearing Adonis! He smiles, and those gloriously blue eyes the colour of freshly leaked ballpoint ink twinkle at me. I retrieve my lower jaw from the ground hastily and attempt to recover my composure and regain my dignity.
I flash back what I hope was a blindingly attractive smile whilst praying to St Hammond, Patron of Orthodontia and Protector of Immaculate Dentures that my upside down frown didn't contain the contents of Oxford University’s breakfast special.
'Nuuuhhh’ I moan silently to myself . ‘Why did I have the Eggs Benedict this morning? Why? Why couldn’t I have had the muesli? Or...or...just skipped breakfast all together?'
Whilst I woefully ruminate my breakfast choice the Man-God speaks;
“Hello,” he says. 'Oooh' I can't help but think to myself. Just in the nick of time. I was just about to start counting all the calories I'd ever consumed. Backwards.
“I’m Dr Daniel Jackson, you don't know me but...'
The rest is quickly drowned out by the rushing sound of what feels like the entirety of the Yellow River and my eardrums, the dam. My heart thuds for a second, and then drops like an anvil in a Saturday morning cartoon.
Oh. Crap.
He’s wrong; I do know him.
~tbc~