Indiscreet Geckoes &
Naked French Girls
(Chapter 3: The Big God Network)

In Ubud, the rain had stopped and the frogs were deafening. It sounded like there were hordes of them in the rice fields next to the hotel, bleating like amphibious goats. Takeshi could hear them with total clarity because he no longer had the white noise of his ceiling fan, power having been out all over town for the last two days, as the Jakarta energy scandal grew. The immobility of the fan liberated mosquitoes to roam at will in his room, and meant that he had no relief from the sticky, constant heat. Takeshi was staying in the Sri Bungalows because they held good memories from his first trip to Bali. But tonight he longed for his air conditioner back home in Tokyo.

               He tossed and turned in sheets damp from his sweat. The night was conspiring to keep him awake. Geckoes, usually discreet, were ecko-ing to each other up on the roof. A mosquito whined in the air above him, then buzzed loudly as it passed next to his ear. Takeshi rolled out of bed, grabbed a flashlight and shone it on one of the bloodthirsty insects which had been dive bombing him. He rolled up his Herald Tribune and swatted the wall hard once, twice, three times. He missed his target, but managed to elicit maniacal laughter from the elderly English couple in the next room.

               This was followed by the sounds of splashing outside, and giggling. The three French girls had returned to the pool, and once again they’d forgotten to bring their swimsuits.

               Takeshi peeked through his window shutters and could just make out their sleek bodies, gleaming in the moonlight as they floated in a circle, facing each other. There were footsteps, then a knock on his door. He opened it and faced a beaming Lawrence, the English husband. He and his wife were in Ubud to purchase handicrafts for their gift shop in the Lake District.

               “Takeshi, why don’t you try these?” He handed him two mosquito coils. “And come have a gin-and-tonic with us. We’re going to sit on the balcony and enjoy the stars.”

               Why not? thought Takeshi. He had forgotten to recharge his batteries, so he couldn’t play chess with his nav. And the Net cafés on Monkey Forest Road never had backup generators, so there was no hope of getting on line that way. He needed to contact Franz and Dolores, but it could wait.

               “Thanks, Lawrence.” He set the clay coils on the floor. Lawrence aimed his flashlight while Takeshi lit each one, aromatic smoke filling his nostrils. Then they stepped out on the balcony, where Lawrence’s wife Virginia was ensconced in a rattan chair, surrounded by more burning coils. Candles in bamboo holders illuminated a small table, equipped with several varieties of scotch, gin and vodka.

               “You are well organized,” said Takeshi.

               “The only decent pub in Ubud is a far trek at night,” said Lawrence. “It’s up on the Hill.”

               He poured Takeshi a stiff G&T. “If you get bit again, at least the little buggers will be as drunk as you are.”

               Takeshi took a big gulp. He opened his eyes to a sky flooded with stars. A low moon illuminated the rice fields on the other side of the hotel. Thunder sounded to the North, near holy Mt. Agung, the biggest volcano on the island. I remember this, thought Takeshi. No electricity, no artificial light. He hadn’t experienced anything like it in years.

               Actually, he hadn’t experienced much of anything outside the Net for a long time. He allowed himself to gaze down at the pool, and Virginia noticed it. “You should go and join them.” She chuckled. “They don’t seem to have boyfriends.”

               Takeshi laughed politely, but didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. He was too shy to do such a thing, awkward around women, and tormented by the memory of Mariko. He felt even lonelier when he saw the German couple on their balcony, on the other side of the pool. They were two judges from Potsdam, although they could have passed for graduate students. Candles also ringed their balcony, where they were sharing a bottle of wine. The woman waved and Takeshi waved back. He’d had lunch with them at Lotus Lane and enjoyed their company. Takeshi missed having what they had. It was hard enough existing in the outside world, and nearly impossible without the love of a good woman.

               In Tokyo he lived an isolated existence, not leaving his apartment for weeks on end except to visit the vending machines or noodle shops at street level. He worked long hours on Transmigrations, adapting the show for Asian markets and researching cults. Franz was the host and co-researcher; his wife Dolores handled production and programming. At this point Takeshi’s friendship with them and their work together were what kept him going. Almost all his free time was spent on the Net. Takeshi had little contact with the human race outside, and liked it that way. But he was becoming afraid of people and awkward in the most mundane situations on the street. He was aware that his life had gotten out of hand.

               He no longer even derived much pleasure from manga worlds, where you could immerse as your favorite character. He thought about discussing his growing isolation with Franz and Dolores, but didn’t want to burden them. Most of his Japanese friends existed only in email or as manifests, and he was reluctant to tell them about his problems. And he couldn’t confide in his family. They would tell him what they always did: give up that crazy show, become a regular salaryman, and find a nice Japanese girl to marry. He liked the latter idea, and wasn’t choosy about birth nations. But winning another woman’s heart seemed an impossibility. Not after Mariko. Takeshi sought therapy by retracing a trip of ten years ago, taken with college buddies after graduation. Bali had liberated him and made him feel alive then, and he hoped it could bring him back to life now.

               The power returned in Ubud. The stars grew dim and the frog chorus diminished to a murmur. The French girls squealed and splashed in the water. Takeshi took another look at the pool, and saw their faces giggling above the surface. He felt a surge of desire. It might be a good time to immerse and visit the Yabyum Palace. After all, he’d been in Bali for forty-eight hours and hadn’t gone online once. He hadn’t abstained that long since the age of three. And he did need to contact Franz and Dolores. Strange things had been happening on the Net, possibly of interest to them.

               First, though, he wanted to indulge himself. The French girls were fixed in his mind. Lusty and netsick he was. He felt an irresistible pull, a restlessness that wouldn’t quit. Worse than a junkie.
 

excerpt from The Big God Network
© J.C. McGowan 2007