Instrumentality

"時に　西暦２０１６年
人々の失われたモノ
すなわち、心の補完は続いていた"

July is an interesting time I look forward to, not only because of the end of exams, but also because of the commencement of the timeline detailed in Neon Genesis Evangelion, the first proper anime I watched. While procrastinating, I decided to revisit one of the most confusing and controversial episodes of the original series, episode 26. While not being a fan of rewatching as I find knowing the ending usually spoiling my enjoyment, I found great and newfound value gained from reviewing this particular episode after one whole year.

(A commentary on the last episode of the series would naturally contain spoilers, so the following is supposedly quite spoiler heavy. Also, these are but my own interpretations and might not be the best after all)

FEAR

Everyone carries responsibilities, someone to account to, something to account for. From these we derive our schedule, our routine of things to do during the day, plans to carry out throughout the year. What we view is, however, still but a small fraction of our course of life. So, largely, we are unaware that these define the stages of our life, or identity as I have mentioned for so many times. What differs us from computers running instructions and expectations is how we view the process and the outcome. A computer is neutral to all feelings: It would not protest against running the same code thousands and thousands of times. It would not feel bad if a part of a program failed to execute. In contrast, we, as humans,derive satisfaction from completing tasks. We feel overwhelmed when we are tasked with too much work or too high of an expectation. Most importantly, we fear the uncertainty of the future. Computers are, after all, deterministic machines, so it is natural for them to have no fear. Once we set foot into unknown territories of time though, we are overcome with the task to remain afoot, to not let uncertainty and irrationality wash over our conscious mind.

This is what SEELE has in its mind for the Human Instrumentality Project. To become one means the integration of all variables known as humans in the function known as the society. Much like molecules of gas in the atmosphere, the sheer infinity of our minds and the plethora of ideas that erupts forth from such minds are uncontrollable, unpredictable and irrational. These qualities are exactly what some may think as "dangerous". Bringing all to one reduces this equation to a simple assertion of one variable, which quickly becomes a constant.

However, why did Shinji reject instrumentality? All was bleak for him in the vicinity of the ending: Asuka losing her sanity over the lack of praise, angels getting stronger and stronger, carrying out psychological attacks, having to kill probably the one and only one understanding friend Kaworu with his own hands. Shinji has fallen to a paradox: Were he to run away, he would lose his meaning of life: As the only compatible pilot for EVA-01; were he to stay, his suffering and angst would simply continue. He came to the conclusion that everybody basically hates him, unless he does something remarkable with EVA-01. Hence, he says to himself

"I mustn't run away."

He must put himself on the rack again and again, for this is the only way he has found to live. And thus,

"Eva itself will be yourself."

At this rate, with the fleeting world around him, there would be no reason to reject instrumentality. It gives man a reason to exist: To be part of the greater collective, to combine the strength of all to iron out the weaknesses of individuals, to transcend the limit of humans, known as emotion and insecurity.

THE WORLD WITH NOBODY

"What is this? The world with nothing in it?"

Perhaps if we remove the prospect of humanity and the like, and replace it with lifeless void, we would be better. In the case of Shinji, I daresay that what occurred would have better not occurred. Wouldn't it be good if what he was experiencing right now was merely an illusion, a harmless nightmare that would dissolve once someone pinches him? This is instrumentality: By uniting everyone, we eliminate others as they are no longer "others", but "me" or "us". A singular entity does not have any rivalry, any companion, or any friends. And since the human mind is already so convoluted, the combined intelligence would most likely, working in unison, be all knowing, not unlike the Sibyl system in Psycho-Pass. It would be the ultimate augmentation to any singular human, yet it also removes all that we know of as "surroundings". There would be no more expectations and rules set by others to be obeyed irrationally. Everything is free.

Yet, such a world, even if it does exist, would not be desirable. An astronaut floating free from the tethers of gravity (provided that he has infinite oxygen and food) could as well float forever, but he would eventually wish to return to earth, for it is his home. It is his home because it simply is the environment he is used to be in. Without this environment, he would feel unnatural, or even not survive. An appropriate analogy would be how our body would explode under zero pressure environment and be fine under the immense pressure of the atmosphere, as opposed to the much more reasonable, rational opposite. We were born to this world with expectations that we would perform our duties as a child pious to his parents, obedient to his teachers, respectful to his seniors, nice to his peers, share some interests with the public. People who fail to do so would be outcasts, almost by definition. The sense of "unfreedom" is so ingrained inside us that it becomes unnatural to remove this apparent barrier to happiness. Are we doomed to live unfulfilling lives by simply being ourselves?

"In the act of observing others you may find yourself."

Therefore, we fall into the same paradox: the more people around us, the more we suffer from expectations and norms. Yet, with no one around us, we lose our meaning of existence. Shinji is doomed to exile, or simply stay in NERV and endure the psychological torture day by day. He is either something abhorrent, or nothing at all.

A NEW POSSIBILITY?

You may have noticed that the paradox I mentioned occurs in extremes. Most people we see around us are normal, typical individuals who are seemingly not affected by this thought (perhaps the cryptic reality scene in EoE alludes to this). How is this so? Anno tells us that the answer lies in "perspectives". Asuka doesn't have to be a pilot who repeatedly was trying to gain praise to fulfill her desire of self-worth. Instead she could be Shinji's childhood friend, waking him up for school. Rei does not have to be the vessel of humanity, and sacrifice her humanity for instrumentality. She could be the typical shy student in the same class as Shinji. Perhaps a decent show could have emerged under these circumstances. Throughout the whole show we see the perspectives of Shinji and Asuka, yet who said we must follow their footsteps? Who said that the kids must not exist outside of being a pilot? Why can't they have a different dictation of their story, of their identity, and of their lives? Anno wished us to break free of his grasp, to explore the reality away from the imaginary world of NGE, to gain your own version of truth, your own interpretation of your story, of Shinji's story, of Asuka's story, of everyone around you.

Once you break free of the tethers of objective existence, characterized by others' expectations, you start to truly live, and to this Anno says to you:

"Congratulations!"

For me, though, to this I raise the possibility of the objectivity of tragedy. Though the human mind and emotions are flexible, is there such thing as an infinitely versatile mind/interpretation? Would something hit us so hard that it is impossible to recover? Would there be forever a vestige of doubt, of melancholy, of selfish desire left after all the attempts at reinterpreting a situation, just as Homura from Madoka Magica had? I liked to use the excuse of "forgetfulness" to resolve regrets, yet does it always work? In philosophy, this would be the epitome of non-rigour, of hand-waving. To this question, then, I have yet to find an answer.

CONCLUSION: EMBRACING THE UNIVERSE

I believe that there is always a motivation or reason behind everything. There is a reason why the wind blows, a reason why the flower grows, a reason why water flows; a reason why there is love, and hatred, and melancholy, and happiness. Therefore, there must be a reason why we live, why Shinji rejects instrumentality as the final answer, why we all walk in the crowd, yet have our own individual self without questioning the absurdity of that. Given the lifespan of humans being quite a long time, I would assume that most would have thought about this matter somehow, to a certain extent. Why are we still able to embrace the universe and fate as it is, as cruel and unforgiving as it is? Anno throws this question at us and attempts to answer it, encouraging us to think about it ourselves through this animation.

Provided that my life would be sufficiently long, this will be one of the many questions that I probably would not have an answer till the vicinity of my death. Yet, I do look forward to any time that a new light could shine on me for this problem at hand.

Amazing how an anime of 20 years old is still so relevant today, isn't it?

What is also interesting is how people of 20 years ago sees 2015.

Credit to http://www.animanga.com/scripts/textesgb/eva26.html, http://www.stevegilham.com/nge/congratulations.jpg.

Decretum

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow...

What do you think you are doing? What do you want? Why are you here? For years I have been asking myself these questions. I live for myself, fight for myself, for surviving another day in this ruthless world of competition. But then you appeared, and I stopped questioning myself, for you are, by any measure, a much more interesting person to question than myself.

From the first time I saw you I find you laughable, perversely detached from reality. To fight for justice, to fight for happiness, hope, order... How ridiculous. Life is too short to care about anything other than your own survival. How many times do you have to fail to learn this?

In some sense I understand how you feel. Your happiness derives from others'. Yet, isn't this the worst form of disability? To rely on others all the time, to depend on situations where uncertainty rules high for your own well-being. Only foolish girls would fall for this blatant trap.

Aren't we all specks on the never ceasing arrow of entropy? Our existence has always been doomed to end in an entropic manner. No one can reverse the force of irreversibility. It is a written law above us all. So you think you, making a wish for someone who doesn't even love you, would somehow reverse this never-ending cycle of doom? I am here to tell you miracles are thus named because they do not happen. The laws of this universe do not operate on sympathy.

Red. All the red around us. The colour of blood, of sacrifice, of fiery passion. How fitting in this occasion. In you I have found my past, my foolish self who never doused her flames of destructive fantasies. I, like you, have only recently been revealed to the truth. It almost took your life, yet you continue to march majestically into this gaping trench. Is your life worth so little that you are willing to throw away for nothing?

How ironic that the most beautiful insects are also the most deadly, the brightest flames destroys the most, that the most kind-hearted person brings upon the most tragic death. And now, the hopeful of them meets the most aloof, so desensitised to the tragedy of our kind. Perhaps it is true after all that the extremes always merge back into a cycle, as if time loops around itself, and I am here to meet my own self again. How ironic, that I now shall fight myself. What have you done, Fate? The mighty sorceress, who transcends time and space, lusting over the glowing essence of all that we call hope, till all that remains is but an empty core of despair over extinguished candles.

My concerto is coming to an end. The brass flourish, tremolo from the strings, trills from the winds... All instruments awaiting for the final swing of my bow. So let me defy you once, Fate, let me defy you just once. Let me be both death and her maiden, and seal my last vestige into this realm.

Identity

(Way overdue from November last year. In before why not Chinese cartoons?)

His life lasted for merely 61 years, yet he has seen the rise and fall of three dynasties, the struggle for the people who had been slaves of his race for three centuries rise up against him, with himself going from an oblivious emperor living inside the golden shell of a palace to nothing but dust, among hundreds of millions of others, witnessing the tumultuous birth of what China is today. What would such a man recognize himself as? Does he even have an identity?

I came across the TV series Extraordinary Citizen (非常公民) a few months ago (while procrastinating during the IB exams), which portrayed the last emperor of Qing, Aisin-Gioro Puyi with superb attention of him as a person instead of what role he fulfills in the eyes of the common folk. Though the show centres upon his romantic life (which is also quite interesting), it is the candid portrayal of Puyi's psyche as he was, suddenly in the middle of his childhood, ripped from his position by the breaking out of the revolution, eventually declining into being the puppet of the Japanese empire, and even as a war prisoner to be "re-educated" by Russian and Chinese Communists that interested me the most. After wasting half of his life trying to fulfill his delusion to be an emperor, in the process sacrificing his dignity, his power, his freedom, and eventually his sanity and, most importantly, his identity as a person. The incredible detail carved onto Puyi makes the man marking the end of imperial China extremely easy to relate, as I learnt how Puyi, the supposedly most powerful person in the whole of China, was still unable to escape the flow of time, floating helplessly as a piece of log.

Puyi threw away his love, his life and his humanity for one sole purpose: To search for his lost identity. He lived the first two decades of his life as an emperor (unofficially, as he was unaware of). When the truth of his powerlessness eventually broke in (fairly well hidden from him by the officials around him), he sought to stay as an emperor, and eventually, under the convincing of the Japanese, willingly gave in everything. He knew of nothing but to be an emperor, as his whole life hitherto was filled with this role. He had no skills, but an enormous ego, an ego that all emperors were taught to have and reasonably possessed and infinitely inflated. To him, this ego is everything, everything his life meant.

Today, we look at Puyi askance, wondering why he betrayed his people, questioning the true motives behind his actions. Yet, his life of frantic search for an identity poses a very profound challenge to what we mean by purpose; specifically, the purpose of life, the ultimate purpose. The meaning of life (certainly not 42) is complex, and no one would claim to have/be able to grasp it fully in his/her short life. This turns me to wonder if the search of meaning itself is the meaning itself, that when we realize the vastness of possibilities and uncertainty do we, ironically, begin our search and consolidate the meaning of life.

Here, identity plays an important role. To have an identity means to be realized as a part of a community, to play a role in the course of history, and perhaps to make a mark, because we know that only through this can we make ourselves permanent in memory of the future, that we can be remembered as what we want to be remembered as. Thus, I daresay that this makes us immortal to a certain extent. With immortality being one of the dreams of humanity, identity, defining the direction of human life, perhaps has become what we mean by life itself.

In this ever changing world, almost nothing stays constant, even if it is not always apparent as in Puyi's world. To become an identifiable person is more and more of a challenge in the age of dream-seeking, with fate forever diverting the expected course of life. Yet, can we still embrace this rapid and uncertain flow? Can we get hold of what we are currently, and live with acceptance but vision?

For me, forgetfulness comes to play.

Colours

Even if the colours of the world that were sent through prisms fade 
And everything is filled with this kind of grey 
When it comes down to it, I can do it on my own 
I'll show you that I can repaint them again in future

Slowly the room flooded with morning light, the sun sending down countless diverging rays, penetrating through the ever so slight gap between his curtains. Another day has arrived.

He lay, motionlessly, on his bed, blurring the line between unwillingness and inability. The blanket enveloped him like a cocoon, an unyielding cage of idling. Each minute passed by made the room brighter, gradually intruding his peace. A sickly white projection manifests on the wall, peering down on him with utmost judgment.

The concept of time no longer exists with in this isolated, airtight space. One hour is worth as much as one minute, or a day, or a lifetime. Motion is no longer possible, while his mind was paralyzed within the frame of time he exists within. The cocoon wraps around him, ever tighter, almost strangling him.

Perhaps in another room, there would be a person, man or woman, shaking off their cocoon, freeing themselves from the confinements of the present. They would walk up to their mirrors, and plan their day ahead of time. A day full of excitement from meeting others, to seeing new places, gaining new, however trivial, knowledge, and perhaps sometimes discuss politics and philosophy.

In another room, that would be him.

Deathly silence permeates this space of his mere existence. It speaks louder than any crowd, producing shockwaves no one can imitate or induce. In his mind no more can be heard, but random garbage and pseudo-intellectual ramblings. Something about the future, about how he can use his skills, to help the world, possibly. Some picture of him under a bright, azure sky, looking up, realizing that he is one of the colours in this spectrum known as the society, that he is one of the atoms that scattered the UV light, painting out this stunning sky.

How ironic, that the blue sky outside would project a ghostly pale image on his wall.

It is with this thought that he resumes his eternal slumber. I wish him a good night.

Irritations

1.

We are out of time!

Are these words even spoken? Are they real? These questions have bugged him for the whole journey. The only traces of her presence would be the faint smell of perfume, or perhaps the light bouncing off her slightly reflective complexion. He has lost sense of time since the beginning of the night, when he, decidedly, was not alone. As to why, he completely lost track of the reason, I am afraid.

Blending into the darkness was nothing but a long road of tarmac. Bleak, lifeless, but clear and distinct; distinctly repeating into infinity. They marched onward, blissfully unaware of any sense of future. After all, the night is long enough that anything in the future is not of worry.

We ran out of time!

Strange. He heard those words again. Under the sickly yellow streetlights he saw nothing but darkness in front of him. Or rather, under him I suppose. Not one car or even people was seen. A very peaceful night, save the distinctly repeating, perhaps immaterial voices.

Where was he? What was he doing? He would be glad if these questions were asked, instead of the frequent reminder of lateness. What was there to be late for anyway?

Immaterial as they were, the words stuck in his mind, which he wished he could discard for just this hour, this fine hour. He knew that after this hour there would be no walk, no light, no road, no bleakness... no perfume.

This was why he was here. This was. This was! This...

He ran out of time.

As the luminous fairy dust wore off from her, he, the shadow, gradually faded from her. Into nothingness, not even darkness.

2.

I have not finished this anime yet, but Welcome to the NHK is definitely an interesting one to say the least. I would not say it is excellent in terms of anything, and in some sense it is kind of lackluster compared to the legendary ones such as Steins;gate etc. It doesn't build up enough tension for me to care too much about it. Yet, I am writing about this here, mainly because of how much it manages to resonate with reality.

The lack of tension quite perfectly depicts how dull and dry a hikkikomori's life is. The use of wild and fantastical elements accurately portrays what illusions a hikky would have to this real world. It touches on a wide variety of issues, such as the problems of lack of social/vocational skills, how the society views and treats hikkies, depression, suicide etc. Yet, all these scenes end quite anti-climatically. In my humble opinion, this is what makes this show so interesting. The life of hikkies, almost by definition, is anti-climatic, boring, meaningless, and full of hatred and disdain.

Makes me think that were I to be in this parallel universe where I am less competent with math and science, I would be in a strikingly similar situation as Satou. However, of course, there is no such person as Misaki in the real world.

3.

Pretty obviously, I have added some music on the blog.

Yea, that happened. The title and origin of the music is labelled on the top left corner. Might add more to the playlist if I want to in the future.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the shadow

We all bow

"Let us all bow"
To the grey pavement below us
Into the blackness of the shadow we plunge
Until there is light, no more.

I see a red tiger, with all his teeth removed
A bear, being crippled nonetheless
A tree with no leaves, a flower with no petals
Drooping, drowsing
"Let us all bow"
To the undying world of
death below us.

I can see the flow of sludge
An unending stream of twigs and stones
So slow, yet so viscous and inescapable
Purple bubbles of toxin threatening to swallow your mind
"Let us all bow"
To the boundless swamp of
torturing comfort.

I can see the thick silver clouds
Sweeping by, undeterred.
This is the world outside
This is when we stop reaching
"Let us all bow"
To the reality of void
and unfulfilled dreams.

I see a world above
Way above
Unreachable
Even more
"Let us all bow"
To god

To god be
be the

"Let us all bow"
Because it is too difficult to look up
Because we are already ten years behind.

At five o'clock in the morning.

Reminiscence

Picking this instrument up again is strange, as if my previous life has suddenly granted me a new talent to create music with this utterly unfamiliar tool I hold dearly close to me. For some even more strange reason, it occurs not anywhere familiar, but in a place where a foreign culture resides, thousands of miles away from where I would call home.

These pieces should not have stricken me with so much emotion. Honestly, it did not, until the day of the concert. When the entirety of the music is put together, everything suddenly became literal, and almost palpable to me. Memories of my time in various orchestras suddenly sprang back to me. The days of blind optimism, of one day becoming whom I witness in front of me, commanding an army to fight against the evil (was there even an evil?). Of course, all these foolish dreams disappeared into thin air as I grew up, as I learnt of the harsh truths of life (not that I am much more knowledgeable/wise now). Despite the tone, lingering whiffs of sadness and nostalgia still emerge from the seemingly blissful melody. To me, I cannot but look at this piece and sympathize with the lament for the time when I could dream endlessly, of infinite grandiose and power, to be the best of the best.


(Interesting how I played this about 8 years ago. Such a different feeling and interpretation of the exact same melody)

It was not this piece that hit me the hardest though. I have never heard of the following (group of) pieces before, nor have I ever read the novel itself. All I knew was that this was kind of a drawn out melody that kept repeating itself. Seemingly pointless, but when it gradually stuck in my head I realized how much significance it had gained inside my mind. It probably was the first moment since I came here that I felt genuinely homesick. Ah, perhaps homesick is not the right word, since I barely recognize it as a malady. It is not something to be cured of. It is all but natural: A sense of identity. Drawing out these notes with the bow, I almost felt the feeling akin to a foreigner looking at Chinese culture for the first time. This is extremely strange, considering my own nationality. Perhaps if I point towards something resembling the feeling of Fan Liuyuan in Love in a Fallen City my point could be clearer: A kind of dreary optimism about... almost nothing. Over these few days I repeatedly questioned myself of my identity, and, more importantly, what have I become, and where will I end up. Am I still able to maintain my own standpoint, my own identity, or am I doomed to reminisce my past identities, and lose myself in the flowing river like a drifting log?


(My favourite movement, for some unknown reason)

Perhaps participating in this concert strongly reminded me that I exist as a Chinese, a foreigner in this unfamiliar city, that I have a real home, and that my past does exist: My foolish self, impulsive, emotional and uncontrollable. These sentiments were one of the strongest I have ever felt in my life, almost an awakening, a refreshment from the endless responsibilities I am partaking and will partake in the near future. I am infinitely glad that I decided to crawl out my room and pick up this instrument again. Finally, perhaps this is a major part of the answer I am looking for, why Sisyphus continues to lift his rock day after day.