HFA Creativity Contest: Stories that Matter
1st Place Winner (Prose)
Numbers
By Connor Ding
[Written in February, 2020]
First year UC Santa Barbara student Connor Ding won first place for his essay about his family back in China during the winter weeks of the novel Coronavirus outbreak.
50
It was 1:26 a.m and I could not sleep. I put a finger on my neck to check my pulse. It was quite slow. I glanced at my Fitbit: 50 beats/minute.
“It’s really slow,” I quietly whispered to myself. “Is it bradycardia?” I was scared as I thought about an incident where a person had a very slow heart rate before fatal heart failure. I did not want other people to find me as a corpse on the bed.
I worried about dying a lot. Not a chronic decaying of life like cancer, but an abrupt one like cardiac arrest. It was the cause of my hypochondria, which haunted me constantly.
I wanted to tell myself that my heart is strong enough: I run long distances. I have good sleep schedules most of the time. I don’t have a substance addiction. But, the fear of that sudden death never went away.
It never did.
126
“The answer to that problem is 126. You just find the corresponding formula and plug it in.” I put down my pen. Andy still looked confused. He paused for a while, and thanked me.
“You are welcome,” I grinned. “See, being a Chinese automatically makes me good at math.”
Andy laughed as well, then said, “Stop putting those stereotypes on yourself, man. But you as a humanities major, which is unusual for Asians, you still solve problems so fast and accurately. I’m amazed. Why are you so good at math? Is it because the Chinese language allows you to process numbers faster and better?”
“No, not exactly,” I responded. “It’s just that our education system back in China made us practice a lot. Like, A LOT.”
“I see,” said Andy.
“Fun fact, when I was doing your problem, I counted numbers in Chinese in my head, despite the fact that I learned algebra and calculus in the United States.”
400
An email from Expedia:
Dear Customer,
Your flight from Nanjing to Los Angeles on February 22, 2020 has been cancelled. Your refund has been processed. A total of $400 will be returned to your account. Thank you for choosing Expedia. We apologize for the inconvenience.
Expedia
I hate forced cancellation. I hate that virus. I hate the hypersensitivity of the U.S. government. I want to go home. I want to go see my mom, dad, dog, and my grandpa who’s currently in the hospital.
37,251
“There are 37,251 confirmed diagnoses of the coronavirus currently in China.” I read out the data on my laptop while FaceTiming my mom. “Is my grandpa one of the diagnosed cases?” “Yes.” Silence. “Are you and Dad okay?” I pressured her. “Yes, our results came out recently. We are okay. Don’t worry about us.” “How did my grandpa contract the virus then?” “I don’t know.” She replied quietly, “Probably because of some family gatherings.” “Oh my. How is he doing now?” “I don’t know. None of us is allowed to visit him.” “What? That’s bullshit! You can’t just forcefully separate patients from their relatives...” “My son,” she said while trying to hold back her tears, “I understand, but what else can we do? You know how easily that virus spreads.”
2,384
“Those Chinese people need to get the fuck out of our country and bring their virus back to where they came from. That’s what they deserve for eating whatever the fuck they want. More they die the better.”
A tweet with 2384 likes.
Is it the first time when people unleash racism and hatred during a humanitarian crisis?
6
“We have to stay at home every day, except when we have to go to the grocery stores to buy food and other supplies. We would usually buy a full week of supply so we don’t have to go out that often.” My dad was video calling me while I was on my laptop searching for the newest virus data. “Oh, do they cost a lot?” “Dude, don’t worry about the price. We are just glad that we are free from the virus. Also, the supplies are way cheaper than your tuition.” I burst out laughing, while ‘liking’ a fundraising post for coronavirus on Instagram. Then, I asked my dad, “How many times have you gone out of the house since the outbreak that started two weeks ago?” “Six times.” “Oh man, that’s how many times I check my phone every day.” “Oh, shut up. During Christmas break, you were always on your phone. So, all my money went to those institutions that teach you how to lie?” He said it half seriously half-jokingly. “Chill Dad, it’s not a lie. It’s an exaggeration or sarcasm or whatever. It depends on how you interpret it.” I closed my laptop. “But sadly, I have to tell you that I learned how to lie here. I learned a lot about it.”
133
A screenshot on Reddit just got 133 upvotes. It’s from one of the group chat histories from a Chinese student group. To sum up, one of the students from Wuhan contracted fever. He never mentioned that he had been to Wuhan.
People freaked out, me too.
I put on my only N95 mask and prepared to avoid any places with a lot of people. As I walked across the campus, I saw many people with masks on, all Asian.
I got back to my dorm after the class, and learned that person only had a fever, no symptoms of coronavirus. Thank God, even though I don’t believe in one. God is there to explain the inexplicable. As we learn more about the world, the less we attribute things to God.
However, all I could do was to attribute coronavirus to God, as a warning, a punishment, a signal of the infinite potential of nature, and a call to collaborate to tackle difficult problems.
812
How to interpret the 812 deaths out of the more than 30,000 confirmed coronavirus cases?
● 812 divided by 37,251 is 0.0218. The death rate is about two percent. This number isn’t significant without context (such as comparing it to other epidemics). But, I guess it’s better than a horrifying 20% or higher.
● 812 is certainly lower than how many people die each day.
● 812 people who couldn’t escape the tragedy of death.
● 812 broken families
● My grandpa could be one of those 812.
I check my heart rate again. It’s in the fast range. I’m not physically active at the moment, but I’m mentally tormented.
90
An email from my Econ professor: midterm scores were out. Check your grades online. I opened up the grades system website. I got a 90.
The median score is 85, so the test wasn’t that hard and I certainly could do better. If I wanted to get an A, I would need a 94 on my final. That was the lowest grade I needed, given that I would maintain my 95% homework average and full lecture attendance.
My friend who studied with me got a 92 and he’s really happy now. I guess our group studying worked.
I recalled the last time I got a 90 on my midterm, and the class average was a 78. I worked hard and got a 97 on my final and secured an A.
Eh, screw those numbers. I never wanted to be defined by numbers, but people see us through numbers: GPA, height, weight, followers on social media, income, area of your backyard. After interpreting a fair amount of numbers in my life, it was safe to say that without context, a number is meaningless.
Will there be a context where numbers are not the only measurement of life?
1000
A sudden message from my mom:
“We are running out of masks. A large number of them go to the government so they can support Wuhan. Can you buy us 100 of those on Amazon? Not N95, just the regular ones you see in hospitals. Here is 1000 RMB.”
I confirmed the transfer, for which I received about US $150. I rushed to the virtual shopping place, quickly typed in “face masks medical” and searched for the results with the best price, delivery time and reviews.
“Mom, it might take one or two weeks until they ship to us and I don’t know how long it will take to ship to you.”
“Oh my god. Could you make it faster?”
“Yes, but that would be $250 extra.”
My mom paused for a while, and then typed, “Forget it. Take your time. There’s enough at home. It’s not worth it to spend that much on a bunch of masks. We are just preparing for the worst.”
“How’s grandpa doing?”
“We don’t know.”
118
My heart rate was 118 beats/minute while I was sitting perfectly still in the Art History TA session. It shouldn’t be this fast. I put a finger on my neck as my mind blocked everything my TA said and I imagined a scenario where I utterly collapsed on the ground:
Can someone perform CPR? What will their reactions be? What will my parents do without me? How cruel would it be if I die this young?
Suddenly, my TA ended the class.
As I got out of the classroom, I pulled out my phone and saw a message from my dad.
What could be worse? I asked myself as I opened up the message app:
“Your grandpa is free from the virus and he’s now resting at home. He wants to talk to you. Facetime him when you have time.”
Twenty-Twenty
“The most striking thing was not the ruthlessness of the disease,” my grandpa lied in his bed, talking fairly feebly, still not fully recovered. “Instead, it was the time when a patient died and his body was immediately transported to be cremated. As the car with the body left, his son, or nephew, I’m not sure, chased the car until he couldn’t. Eventually, he knelt on the ground and cried, loud and persistent.”
I was silent. Finally, I told him that it must be devastating for that family, and after all, I was glad that I was still able to talk to my grandpa.
“Twenty-twenty is not a good year so far.” He sipped some green tea out of his cup.
“I know. So many crises, and I don’t see anything positive from our species in general. While the world is slowing dying, all we care about is those numbers, those numbers, those fucking numbers. Money, grades, fame, whatever. As we quantify more of ourselves, we become less of a human being.”
“I guess I have to apologize then, because I taught you how to count,” he said with a smile.
“No, no, no. I have to thank you for that. I’m just a little bit tired of numbers. I’m more interested in humanities now and I’m devoting a lot of time to it. I think words reflect more about people than numbers do.”
“Glad to hear,” my grandpa said. Then silence.
I just wanted to check in on him, but really hadn’t intended to have a long conversation. “Anything else you want to say? If not…Get some rest please. You know that Chinese saying: ‘If you survived a disaster, only joy and fortune will greet you.’”
“I know. Thank you for that,” he replied. “I was just imagining, since I won’t be able to see it happen, that you will be teaching your grandson learning words, reading all the great books, and engaging in thoughtful conversation. And one day, he says, ‘I hate words. I never even enjoyed reading. I want to be a mathematician.’ How does that make you feel?”
I laughed, “No, that’s not what I meant when I ranted about the numbers.”
“Anyway, just keep in mind that you can’t really just put a word-number dichotomy on the table. They are both fascinating aspects of humanity, and they always work together.”
Connor Ding is a a First-year UC Santa Barbara student majoring in psychology and brain studies as well as comparative literature. He won first prize in the Prose category.