\nIn the middle of the room sat the machine\u2014a monolith to the uninitiated, a sleek, oblong contraption with a complicated register and a series of sliders attached to one side.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt was meant to impress, but Geok Hong was unmoved. Over the last five months a copy of this machine had occupied one entire end of her rented shophouse room, where she had operated it for six hours a day. She knew what every dial did and what every string of keystrokes activated. Instead, her eyes wandered about the room, first to the wooden shutter blinds, then to the pendant lights, and finally to the grimy walls plastered with garish government posters in every language: Prussian, Malay, Mandarin, Tamil, Japanese and English. She fidgeted with a handheld fan as the machine\u2019s technician, a thin girl in a worn uniform, explained the procedure to her.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201c\u2014we will work until six, taking breaks only when your child needs one.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHer child. Werner sat in the highchair, goggling at the skinny young man strapping him in, a yoyo of drool bouncing from his lip.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe two technicians moved to their posts. It appeared the girl, Man Moy, would operate the machine first, while Razak would observe Werner\u2019s reaction.\n<\/p>\n
\nAs they began, Geok Hong feigned ignorance to the process, finally glancing at the pamphlet they had given her when she had entered the facility.\n<\/p>\n
\nFifteen years ago, when the government had introduced the process of birth language identification for newborns, they had touted it as a modern, rational, scientific process, destined to change Temasek. Their reasoning for doing this stemmed from research done in the 1920s, where, amidst the boom of Prussian science, several of their psycholinguists had discovered that children were born fluent in one language\u2014except it was almost never the one from their homeland. They further discovered that by educating children in their birth language, they learnt skills faster and retained more.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe two technicians\u2019 job was to ascertain\u2014at the age of six months, before it was possible for children to have picked up the languages in their environment\u2014whether the child\u2019s birth language was one of the twenty-six taught in the top state academies.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt was vital for Temasek to invest in its most abundant resource\u2014its labor force\u2014as fresh conflicts between Prussian Indochina, Nusantara and Langkasuka left the viability of international trade, once Temasek\u2019s primary industry, in jeopardy.\n<\/p>\n
\nGeok Hong watched as Man Moy pecked away at the register, activating various phrases from the audio phrasebook. In front of the child, Razak sat, checking to see whether Werner reacted to any of them.\n<\/p>\n
\nHis only response was to gurgle.\n<\/p>\n
\nThat wasn\u2019t the reaction they were looking for, Geok Hong knew. They were waiting for the moment a phrase triggered a verbal response from Werner.\n<\/p>\n
\nIf he responded fluently and appropriately to any of the twenty-six languages, his future would be secured. He would be enrolled into a specialized school devoted only to teaching students of his birth language, and the stable and comfortable life of a bureaucrat would be all but assured for him.\n<\/p>\n
\nBut Geok Hong hadn\u2019t practiced with Werner non-stop since his birth just for an iron rice bowl, as attractive as it was. No, she had trained him for the past five months to respond only to and only in Prussian, the international language of trade and science. If the technicians tagged his birth language as such, he would be sent to the National Institution, the elite boarding school that trained the nation\u2019s future ministers, generals and star academics.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe remembered the moment her postpartum confinement had ended, how Werner\u2019s father had paid four coolies to lug the monstrous language machine\u2014in parts\u2014up to her rented shophouse room. Without consulting her they had rearranged the whole room, and when they were finally done, she could barely walk a step without bumping into the bed, the dresser, or the table.\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen she had seen the rearrangement she had wanted to scold him. How on earth could she live with the room like that?\n<\/p>\n
\nBut she couldn\u2019t say that, of course. He had paid for her furniture, he had paid for her care and food during confinement, and he paid her rent. He could put whatever he wanted in the room.\n<\/p>\n
\nAnd besides all of that, he had agreed to stay for dinner.\n<\/p>\n
\nSo Geok Hong had kept her mouth shut.\n<\/p>\n
\nThat night, as she relished the rare treat of nasi schnitzel,<\/em> he had lectured her about the need to train Werner daily.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou can\u2019t just hope Werner picks up Prussian through the kopitiam<\/em> radio. You need to teach him to respond to the machine.\u201d At that point he patted the cabinet-sized device, making a satisfying clang. He beamed. Geok Hong had no clue how he managed to procure one, and while he had boasted about it all throughout dinner, he had kept mum about the machine\u2019s origins. \u201cWerner<\/em> is not going to live as a second-class citizen,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n \nHe had also been very proud that he helped pick his son\u2019s Prussian name.\n<\/p>\n \nGeok Hong had been afraid. \u201cThey\u2019ll put him in the National Institution with children whose birth language is actually Prussian. He won\u2019t be able to keep up. Besides, how can I fool a language technician?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nAt that, his face darkened, the way it did when she asked him to stay the night.\n<\/p>\n \nHe said, \u201cIf they discover your situation, they\u2019ll take him away anyway. You can barely support yourself as it is. The question is, do you want him adopted by another coolie family like yours, or by Temasek\u2019s top school?\u201d Then his face softened, as he added, \u201cDo as I say and it\u2019ll be all right. Trust me. All the other officials do it too.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nWith their legitimate children, <\/em>Geok Hong almost shot back. But she pressed her lips together. He had been in a good mood until then. Perhaps he\u2019d stay the night if she acquiesced.\n<\/p>\n \nShe jolted alert as Werner started grizzling.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMa\u2019am, please wait\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nBut it was too late. Geok Hong scooped the baby into her arms. \u201cHe\u2019s hungry.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nRazak and Man Moy shared a look. \u201cWe\u2019ll take a break.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nWhen they resumed, they swopped places, now Man Moy watched the child, while Razak operated the machine.\n<\/p>\n \nGeok Hong recognised the rolling tongue of Japanese playing from the speakers. When it came to selecting the twenty-six languages the national schools would teach, the government had eschewed the Malay and Mandarin dialects spoken on the streets. Instead, they had chosen to teach in the foreign languages of the world\u2019s great powers\u2014nations whose languages had a large trove of existing scientific, political, philosophical and military literature, in the hopes that the children who spoke those languages as their birth language would better absorb the innovations and ideas from them, and use this knowledge to bring glory to Temasek.\n<\/p>\n \nGeok Hong listened as Razak played more phrases. Over the last five months, though she never learnt the words, she could recognise the cadence of each language. Portuguese was a rower paddling a canoe. Tamil was an acrobat jumping skip rope.\n<\/p>\n \nShe noticed they were avoiding Prussian.\n<\/p>\n \nThe boy\u2019s father had warned her some technicians would save it for last. \u201cThey know people want it,\u201d he said, pressing a sheaf of marks into her hand. \u201cUse this if necessary.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe money was now in two separate angbaos<\/em>, tucked away in her purse. If she offered, would they take it? Were all officials like Werner\u2019s father?\n<\/p>\n \nGeok Hong imagined her son\u2019s life at the National Institution, walled off from the rest of Temasek so its students could focus on their sole job: studying. She missed him already. How would he fare? Would he find success and happiness?\n<\/p>\n \nOr would he wear the same expression she did now?\n<\/p>\n \nShe eyed Man Moy, who smiled as she watched Werner. She hadn\u2019t been much different a few years ago, before she met Werner\u2019s father\u2014uniform thin and yellowed, wearing ratty shoes that had been passed from sibling to sibling, working as some office apparatchik.\n<\/p>\n \nHow could a girl like that look so much happier than her?\n<\/p>\n \nThe first track in Prussian played, and Werner gave a gurgle. Man Moy cooed back, and made a mark on her document.\n<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \nIt was seven when the two technicians rested their hands.\n<\/p>\n \nThey had finished all the audio tracks at five, Geok Hong knew. She had been counting.\n<\/p>\n \nThe fact that they had prolonged today\u2019s session instead of continuing tomorrow meant they were close to a decision.\n<\/p>\n \nWerner dozed in the high chair. He had performed perfectly, following every Prussian phrase with a half-formed mutter, vater, ja, or nien. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nWould they be fooled?\n<\/p>\n \nThey had left the room to discuss, and in the quiet, Geok Hong\u2019s imagination wandered.\n<\/p>\n \nShe pictured the scene. Werner\u2019s father would be there when she returned home, sitting hunched and tense at the table, smoking an Ernte 23. When she entered, he would look up, and then, without a word, she would place the language document in front of him, bearing the designation: Prussian. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nA smile would break out on his face. He would set down the cigarette. He would stay the night\u2014maybe even two\u2014if only so he could extricate Werner from his mother\u2019s arms to deposit him at the National Institution.\n<\/p>\n \nShe couldn\u2019t follow, of course. Not to the school, which prohibited parental contact for most of the year, and not to her lover\u2019s home, where his wife and daughter lived.\n<\/p>\n \nMost importantly, she suspected, he wouldn\u2019t visit anymore. His visits were increasingly rare, and his questions were always about Werner and the machine. Is the thing working? Does it need maintenance? How is the language training going? Can he count to ten in Prussian<\/em>? If Werner did go to the National Institution, he might try to find some way to force her to sign over custody to him, so that he would get to take Werner home during the brief holidays the school had.\n<\/p>\n \nThe door opened. Man Moy entered without Razak. She pulled her chair over to sit facing Geok Hong.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou have a very cute son.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThank you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nSilence. Geok Hong knew what was happening.\n<\/p>\n \nWear a cheongsam, <\/em>Werner\u2019s father had said. That way they\u2019ll know you\u2019re rich. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nShe eyed Man Moy\u2019s threadbare uniform as her hand slipped towards the stashed angbao. <\/em>Would she take it? Would she count out each note before making a decision? It had been a throwaway sum for Werner\u2019s father, but it could change this girl\u2019s life.\n<\/p>\n \nMan Moy finally spoke. \u201cYou tried to cheat.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nGeok Hong was taken aback. Silently, her hand unclasped her purse.\n<\/p>\n \nLooking down at her papers, Man Moy said, \u201cDespite that, we managed to find out Werner\u2019s true birth language.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe looked up to see Geok Hong holding the ubiquitous red envelopes. She shook her head.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou don\u2019t need that.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nFlipping the document over for Geok Hong to see, she pointed at the words next to the ticked checkbox: Prussian. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nGeok Hong said, \u201cThis is for you to check that other box.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe pointed at it: Unspecified. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nGeok Hong sat, fidgeting with her handheld fan as they sat in silence. She had not expected Man Moy to decline the bribe the first time. She watched as the girl stared at the unchecked box in silence.\n<\/p>\n \nFinally, Man Moy covered the angbao <\/em>with the document. \u201cYou are the first to make such a strange request.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nGeok Hong stared long and hard at her.\n<\/p>\n \nMan Moy began to rewrite the document. \u201cYou\u2019re sure about this? There\u2019s no changing your mind, you know.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nGeok Hong re-imagined the scene this evening as Werner\u2019s father took in the boy\u2019s unspecified status. He\u2019d ask about the angbao.<\/em> She\u2019d lie, telling him she\u2019d done as he\u2019d instructed.\n<\/p>\n \nHe might not believe her. Perhaps he\u2019d accuse her of stealing the money. But what could he do? There was no way to appeal Werner\u2019s status.\n<\/p>\n \nAn unspecified son.\n<\/p>\n \nAn unspecified, illegitimate son.\n<\/p>\n \nShe imagined his expression as he took it all in.\n<\/p>\n \nThere was no prestige in claiming such a boy.\n<\/p>\n \nNo, he would leave and not return for Werner.\n<\/p>\n \nLooking at Man Moy, she nodded.\n<\/p>\n \nBehind them, Werner had awoken. He began to wail. Geok Hong swooped over and picked him up, planting a kiss on the top of his head. \u201cWerner, Mummy\u2019s here.\u201d\n<\/p>\n Dylan Kwok is a game designer and author from Singapore. His fiction has appeared in Daily Science Fiction.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" In the middle of the room sat the machine\u2014a monolith to the uninitiated, a sleek, oblong contraption with a complicated register and a series of sliders attached to one side. It was meant to impress, but Geok Hong was unmoved. Over the last five months a copy of this machine had occupied one entire end …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107744,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,20094],"tags":[20095],"class_list":["post-138959","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-43-spring-2022","tag-the-colored-lens-43-spring-2022","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138959","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107744"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=138959"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138959\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":138960,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138959\/revisions\/138960"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=138959"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=138959"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=138959"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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