I Have No Soul

[Author's note: I wrote this several months ago, and only just now rediscovered the file.]

This post continues my “Thoughts From Asia” series. By this I do not mean to imply a sequence of related stories, but rather, simply explain why I found my existence being so often probed and giving rise to this post.

It all began in a beautiful Buddist temple situated in a mountain high above Chiang-Mai, Thailand. In this temple, religious implications unclear to me, were two rooms in which a game could be played. You would simply kneel down, shake a festive looking can filled with 40 or so numbered sticks, and keep shaking until exactly one of them fell to the ground. You would then pick up said stick, note the number you had divined, put it back, and go over to a neat wooden rack with all of those numbers on it. In each numbered pocket, a corresponding fortune sat to tell you what to expect from your future.

Mine was empty. Literally. All the pockets were stuffed FULL of cards except for the one corresponding to the number I had “drawn.” My fortune had declined to be read.

Not long after, I had lunch at a trendy restaurant in Hong Kong. One of the items you could order was “Fortune Buns.” Same concept as a fortune cookie. You ordered the buns, and the chef would whip you up a batch of six sweet cakes into which he had baked a fortune. You had to order them at the start of the meal, because of the extra prep time needed.

They arrived right on time. I carefully ripped one open, looking for my elusive fortune. Nothing. Confused, I shredded the unsuspecting pastry. I found a lot of cake, but very little fiber. I moved on to bun number two. Nothing. Three. Zilch. Four. Five. Six.

The chef had forgotten to insert the fortunes into the entire dessert tray.

Several days pass. I am now at a modern acrobatics show in Shanghai China. During the last act, at a climactic moment, the ceiling above the audience erupts with smoke as small papers flit down from the ceiling. Catching on quicker than everyone else, I lunge at the first to drop near me. I would have a fortune yet. In the dim light, it is difficult to read, but the small slip of paper clearly had some words of wisdom on it for me to read. Minutes later, in the lobby, I extract the paper from my pocket to discover my oft-delayed prospects.

“Don’t forget the day after yesterday.”

I conclude that I have no soul.