Apocalypse Hotel: A Novel (Modern Southeast Asian Literature) by Ho Anh Thai Read Free Book Online Page A

they’ll be incautious in another. One cannot judge who the fool is and who the wise man is and so one should forbear to give advice to others. These young men in their twenties could take care of themselves and take responsibility for their own actions.
    I just sensed that there was going to be a disaster. I often had premonitions of catastrophe.
    I left the two of them in the room and went to the coffee shop. As I sat there, looking through darkly tinted glasses, I could see a group of Westerners of different sizes who had just come in and were milling in front of the reception desk, waiting to check into a room. This was the bumper season for the hotels.
    Thế came in and sat down at the table with me. The waiter brought us two cups of coffee right away, just as if we were two regular customers.
    “I heard that the state is going to take down signs in foreign languages.”
    When he said he “heard,” he meant that it was the truth. This is a country where all information can become public knowledge. The topics of important conferences were out in the street for ordinary people to discuss just a few hours after the meetings concluded. The big shots couldn’t manage to hold back on issues that caused such swelling in their hearts, and had to spill their loads onto their esteemed ladies. Their esteemed ladies, in turn, had to pour out what they’d heard to other esteemed ladies throughout the city. Word traveled from mouth to mouth and over telephones—both with and without cords. Those esteemed who had humble roots immediately passed the information along to the network of ordinary people.
    Thế was a repeater station on this information network. He was a good-looking young guy who had worked as head interpreter for many leaders. After work trips overseas, his colleagues came home with thoughts of “You go your way and I’ll go mine,” but Thế was quite contrary. He knew that his connections with those politicos helped him make his living. He’d faithfully make his rounds, visiting the big shots and their families, patiently conversing with the wives. These ladies had been naturally affectionate toward the young translator during his lightning-quick friendship visits abroad. In those countries he’d even made time to go shopping with them, deftly translating the names of sensitive products, and so it was that Thế came to be appreciated by the ladies, who in turn made sure their appreciation was sweetly and smoothly mentioned when they spoke to Mr. Head of Department and urged him to have Thế promoted. Thế rose to the rank of department head himself. At that point everyone had thought that he’d keep going higher but, all of a sudden, he submitted a request to resign from his post. He was forty-four years old at the time. Sixteen more years and he would have reached retirement age. But Thế had collected enough capital to build a large hotel instead. Of course, people who have participated in politics are rarely able to stop being politicians; all they do is to switch their political methods to literature or business or science. Thế was no exception. He had constructed a protective and supportive network and all of his connections continued to help him. The bigwigs clucked behind his back that he was a fool who had destroyed his career at the halfway point. But their women smacked their lips about Thế and didn’t consider him a fool at all: his hotel was so big, so impressive, and so luxurious.
    Who knows who is foolish and who is wise in this world? The wise and the foolish alike all die. Only a few people truly know what life is, and once they know, once they’re enlightened, they don’t die. They only live out their miserable lives. I mentioned that during my years and months on the sea I read many Buddhist works. I felt sorry for the Buddha. He had reached enlightenment at thirty-five years of age (although, to tell the truth, if I was ever truly enlightened it happened this year) and for