Sick Boy[s] Paddle Club↓

Mosquitoes, AC, and the Branch-off of Civilization

renfyoo   

Translated by: Yumeng Zhao

I never managed to swat that mosquito. I flung my arms in the darkness like some unavailing wind-catcher. Sometimes, it buzzed by my ear. Sometimes, it fell silent like dust. An erratic shadow flashed in the glow of my phone screen. Slap. Only the warmth of the wind remained in my palms. An hour passed by, through fingertips and fruitless slaps that landed soundlessly.

Biking to work the next day, with the morning breeze brushing my face, last night’s absurdity came to mind. A thought surfaced: a person’s energy is like a pond. If it’s dripping through a small hole, it will eventually drain, unable to irrigate lush gardens. The mosquito is like that tiniest hole, as are the nights consumed by comparing deals on shopping apps, and even more so the sunk cost of strained relationships—they are worms on the cloth of time, riddling it with holes without notice.

My thought was strangely confirmed under the sunlight of Bali. It is a small island near the equator, as nestled in the ocean as a forgotten leaf. I saw the local people’s residences, plain, almost shabby; while in the hinterland of Nusa Lembongan, I ran into an appalling dumpsite; yet in the café by the beach, blonde vacationers were cheering and laughing. Two different lives brushed past each other under the same heat, never intersecting.

Why are tropical countries poorer? I once read a thought-provoking answer—not because of slothfulness, nor dullness, but an unseen consumption. High temperature and high humidity are like soaked clothes wrapped around everyone’s body. Sweat cannot escape. Core temperature stays high. The body has to mobilize numerous resources just to cope with the heat, leaving little energy left for thinking and working. Statistics show that once the temperature passes 27 degrees Celsius, physical labor productivity reduces by 4% for each degree. This means that the temperature difference between the tropics and the temperate zone can cause up to a 35% difference in physical labor productivity.

Thirty-five percent. The number swirls in my mind, resonating with the buzzing of the mosquito. It turns out that heat is a larger, more penetrating mosquito. It chews off our energy day and night, until the strength to build civilization slowly evaporates and dissipates in the humidity. The nights lost in shopping software. The hearts withered in consuming relationships. Aren’t they another form of the “tropics”? They wrap us in petty heat waves and stifle the spirit’s capacity to breathe, until weariness makes us surrender our imagination of a grander future.

The invention of air-conditioning is great not only because it creates coolness, but also because it opens a temperate spring for the human mind. In that temperature-controlled, dry space, thoughts can stretch. Creation can take root. Civilization can climb high. Just like this moment, as I sit in a room with air conditioning, I realize—true poverty is never about a lack of material goods, but the state of having one’s energy drained without the strength to break free.

The mosquito was nowhere to be found. It might have hidden in a corner, waiting for another night. But I know, the thing that needs to be expelled was never just the mosquito. It’s the tedious, long-lasting consumption. The things that make us barren without notice. They are like the humidity in the tropics, like the buzzing in the night, stealing our strength to look up into the starry sky, our strength to build a home.

Outside the window, the high-rises of the city quietly grow. I think that the boundary of civilization might have started when the last mosquito was blocked outside the window screen, and when the first breeze brushed through a sober mind.

renfyoo

Stays awake while the moon falls asleep. A female programmer in Shenzhen, an outdoor enthusiast who loves wandering in the world. Captures sceneries on camera on the way and records emotions and thoughts in words.