Virtually Unreal

Everything that ever transpired in my life during this time was a complete blur. All the names of the persons involved in this story have been renamed so as to protect them from revile and disgust.  

 

 

It Started Like Any Other Night

 

It was one of those normal Sunday nights at Starbucks Galleria in Manila. I usually visit the place when I’m there for school and shopping. It was a good excuse to get high with caffeine after a final exam in La Salle where I took my MBA.

 

But nothing prepared me for the addiction that would drastically alter the remainder of my life.

 

I was just finishing my calzone and cappuccino, when a friend from MicrEc came rushing inside the café. He was a bit bewildered and was sweating all over. “Carlo, here!” I called, and he ran frantically. “Take it! Take it!” shoving me a bunch of CDs. “Hey, nice. Are these EBTGs or Fordhams?” I asked. But Carlo was dead serious, flushed in cold sweat. “Just take the CDs. Please take it, take it!”

 

 

This wasn’t the Viveka Babajee envelope thingie, but it came close. Carlo was in some sort of tortuous nightmare as he ran quickly out of the café, clutching his stomach. In all our time together as group-mates, I’ve never seen him like this. He was always the very composed, very professional exec who would lead our presentations.

 

The hours passed still no Carlo. I had just finished browsing through the cover of the last CD. They weren’t audio, but PC game CDs. One was about this alternate World War II without Hitler. Another was this Dark Ages conflict between knights and green-skinned orcs. Another was a shooter-type game, where you bought various weapons like an Aug-Steyr or Artic Rifle to kill terrorists or counter-terrorists. Later, I decided to leave with the CDs coz I got really bored waiting for Carlo. In the taxi, I became extremely curious and excited with the games.

 

But once in a while, Carlo’s hopeless, tormented voice haunted me. What turned him from a respectable financial analyst to a perplexed, chaotic soul?

 

 

 

Mortal Insomnia

 

I got home at 9:00 p.m. and installed all six programs. It didn’t take long before I got hooked. I was leading mammoth tanks, MIGs and submarines against an Allied stronghold. We laid siege on a medieval kingdom and finished off a giant cyborg by turning him or it into fleshy goo.

 

“You’re still awake!” my Mom yelled in shock. “It’s 4:00 a.m. – Monday!”

 

 

“Just one more mission and I’ll be through, Mom,” I whispered absent-mindedly. True to my character, it didn’t end there.

I abruptly finished the game at 6:30. I did not get any sleep at all. Since I was late, I did not take a bath nor had breakfast. I rushed out into the morning crunch — to Gehenna or simply called in this side of the world, Metro Manila traffic.

 

I was late for the presentation. I had always arrived very early and arranged all the brochures and projector. But now, everything is in shambles, as chaotic as a full-scale attack on an alien military complex.
 

 

A Very Bad Mojo

 

After work, instead of replacing lost sleep, I again returned into the fray and battled the Morden, the zerg and terrorists.

“You should try to get some sun sometimes, son.” my Dad inquired.

 

“No! Inside good, outside bad,” I answered. The rest of his words were undecipherable gibberish, as I continued the death-match tournament in my PC. I finally slept.

 

 

No, I fell unconscious on my seat at dawn. Again.

 

This went on for about two weeks, and the levels and the missions in the games have escalated. They’ve become more difficult, the enemy more numerous and cunning. I have eliminated all habits of hygiene – taking a bath, changing my clothes, brushing my teeth, using deodorant.

 

My family is a fading memory. The only words that I can relate to family are mother-board and config syster. I’ve found out that I don’t even have to use human language anymore. I can just type in my commands and the computer entities follow my every whim.

 

 

 

Living in Oblivion

 

But my biggest dilemma was when I totally forgot to attend a meeting with someone I met at the Internet. That night, our relationship ended (although it didn’t start at all). All I’ve ever worked for crumbled like a fatality (animality, brutality and every ality you can think of).

 

I would never see her again after she told me that she decided to be a nun for the rest of her sexually-active life. I was too shocked to be regretful. I just stared into that awesome, gaping blackness of what was once a future together with her.

It was like being in a bizarre, tortuous nightmare –-

 

Wait! I’ve seen this before!

 

Carlo! This was the reason he pleaded me to take the CDs! It was the curse, and it was wreaking havoc on my life! Like what happened to him!If this curse was bound to happen to me, I must accept my fate. I returned to my computer and continued to play. I got totally absorbed in mutilating everyone in the virtual world to forget my pains in the real world. I played through the evening and the morning. It all ends here, I thought. I’m a loser. A geek, forever condemned to playing games.

 

But deep down, I still felt that I could still salvage what was left of my humanity. It did not have to end like this. I stopped playing the games. The first few hours were difficult. Then, for the first time in days, I took a bath. I went out and had lunch outside and experienced non-artificial light (I got sunburned like a vampire, though).

 

I remembered I had a family, a career, a scholarship, a girlfriend –-

 

Umm, no. I once had a “girlfriend”. But there are things and people you have to lose to gain those that will never be taken away from you.

 

 

 

 Back to Zero Hour

 

A few months have passed since that unfortunate incident and I was in Starbucks one Sunday evening – in the exact same place and day of the week. I’ve just enrolled for another semester the day before. I’ve got good subjects and professors and I even got into the Dean’s List. Things are going great and they’re only getting better. I’m doing alright and getting good grades. The future’s just bright. I might just wear shades.

 

I was just finishing my sandwich and coffee, when a friend from school came walking by. It was Carlo, and he wasn’t alone. He was with his fiancée and he was very happy. Had he also resisted, and won over the curse?

 

“Carlo! I’m so glad you’re normal again. It must have been a real struggle for you. I know how it felt.”

 

“What struggle?” he said. “I’ve always been normal. So unlike you, though. Where are my CDs?”

 

“But I thought you left them with me because of the curse?”

 

“Curse? You’ve been watching too many Div X movies again. I had to let you take it because I needed to go to the toilet because I was uh, indisposed. I wasn’t about to go in there with a stack of CDs. What if they fell? What if I forgot about them? I came back here, but you already left.”

 

“You mean there was no curse?”

 

“I like those games! Hey, I’m never gonna regret being addicted to it. There’s nothing better in life than playing games in your PC.”

 

I was looking grimly at my mug. I was into some deep thought.

 

I summoned all my knowledge of physics and chemistry and pondered to answer the question that bothered me at that moment: could I fit his head in my mug after I’ve chopped it into bite-size pieces?

Txt Cptl of Th Wrld

If you can’t understand the title, the translation is this: Text Capital of The World.

 

For several years, the Philippines has remained the world’s texting capital due to the magnitude of the volume of short messaging system or SMS the country churns out everyday, according to Swedish telecom provider Ericsson. “Asia in general generates quite a large volume of SMS,” said Ericsson president for Southeast Asia Jan Signell.

 

 

Telecom executives estimate that about 500,000 million text messages are sent daily in the Philippines where there are only 80 million Filipinos. Operators charge an average of one peso for each SMS. The Ericsson executive said the Philippines made a mark globally because of its prevalent use of text messaging that allowed local operators to make a lot of money even if the average revenue for each user was lower compared to other countries.

 

As of June 2002, there were at least 12 million mobile phone subscribers in the Philippines. Smart Communications, (used to work there) the wireless subsidiary of Philippine Long Distance Telephone Company (PLDT) had a subscriber base of 6.6 million as of March 2002 while Globe Telecom had 5.4 million subscribers as of June 2002.

 

The number of mobile phone subscribers is expected to double within the next three years. In fact, text messaging is now primary means of communication in the country next to telephone landlines. According to Fitch Ratings, there were less than 4 million fixed telephone lines installed in the whole country in 2001. Only about 14 percent of Philippine households had fixed telephone lines as telecommunication companies refuse to invest in facilities in the provinces. In comparison, there were 12 million subscribers to mobile phone networks, 91 percent of them on prepaid subscription in 2001.

 

 

The reason for this discrepancy is the cost and difficulty of installing phone lines, plus the relatively expensive cost of telephone calls compared to text messages.

 

In Back to the Bible – Philippines, the Heart Line radio counseling program has capitalized on this new technology and skill among Filipinos to get questions and feedback from its listeners. Heart Line generates an average of 12 telephone calls and 200 text messages each night during its one and a half hour broadcast. The questions sent via SMS are answered by counselors.

 

Personally, besides learning some script-writing skills, I’ve developed this new skill of reading listeners’ text messages for Heart Line when I was co-hosting the Friday edition in 2004.

 

It’s safe to say that Filipino text messaging lingo, or textese for short, is fast becoming a sort of sub-cultural language especially among youths and young adults.

 

To see if you’re ready for textese, try deciphering this “simple” text message: Hwruna? mhirnus4mtngwiddirfrdifcon3s.

 

Answer: How are you na? I am here in the USA for a meeting with directors from different countries.

The Genesis of Loans

Long, long time ago, in the beginning, the officer created the Loans Section. Now, the section was without form and void, darkness was over the blue desk. The loan applications hovered.

 

And the officer said, “Let there be rates,” and lo and behold, the e-mail brought forth various rates. The officer saw that the rates were good, and she separated the Libor from the loan rates. And there was silence — the first day.

 

And the officer said, “Let there be an expanse between the Loans Section to separate it from the CSR and the Tellering Sections.” And it was so. The officer called head office, and there was evening, and there was morning — the second day.

 

And the officer, “Let the printouts be printed and be gathered to its ledgers, and let the loan reports appear.” The officer commanded the computer to print out the reports, and used them to help the section. And the officer saw that it was good.

 

The officer said,” Let the checks produce funds for the clients.” And the officer saw that the clients were happy, and it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning, the third day.

 

And the officer said, “Let there be a tempus in the table’s expanse to catalogue loan schedules, repricings, maturities and extensions, and let them serve as signs to mark days and months.”

 

And it was so, and the officer created two great loan programs. And the officer saw that it was good. And there was morning — the fourth day.

 

 

And the officer said, “Let the section teem with all sorts of forms — promissory notes, deeds of assignment, etc. — until loan forms covered the face of the earth. And it was so. The loan officer reviewed them and said to them, “Ye shall be fruitful and multiply the number of our loans and fill our branch target to the brim. Yea, til we win the Branch of the Year Award.” And there was evening, and there was morning — the fifth day.

 

And the officer said, “It is not right for the section to be lonely.” So, the officer took a lump of ink and paper and formed a loans staff into an image, into a likeness.

 

“Let him have all dominion over all these rates, reports and applications and every creeping document that creepeth on his desk,” she said.

 

And the Loans Staff was created, and the officer saw that he was good — good-looking. The officer saw all that she made, and it was good. And there was morning — the sixth day.

 

And the seventh day came, the day of rest. But there was no rest for the officer and the loans staff, since the loan applications came and covered the branch as the waters covered the sea. Both worked hard overtime and satisfied the clients.

 

And the manager saw what they did, and he said, “That, is very good.”

 

 

Far East Bank News (1995)