Recently I lost a friend, but then mysteriously, I found on fb a bunch of long-lost ones. The high-school 1974 yearbook (I was away from the site for more than 2 years).
B/w photos of each student and student council.
1974 marked the first and only SAT graded by IBM in SVN. Our Luddite teachers resented and rebelled against automated ABCD pencil # 2 answers (optical grading). They did not have to look hard to find a justifiable cause albeit prematurely: how come a top-ranked student flunk while others at the far side of the bell-curve distribution passed?
Therefore, it’s me – exhibit A – for their counter argument.
“Invalid” answer sheets emerged for various reasons: machine couldn’t read, multiple markings for one question, or unqualified pencil and partially blackened due to time-pressure.
Fake news in print went ahead without further factchecking (hand-graded post was released trailing machine-graded list for a few days, understandably): “hoc sinh uu tu thi rot tu tu”…
The sensational headlines grabbed attention and sold papers. “bao day, bao moi day”. It went on to detail my shock and suicide at failing the IBM-graded exam (in SVN, at that time, it meant draft deferral revoked due to the Vietnamization process of the war).
“When will they ever learn… where have all the flowers gone”.
The wall. The list of names. To pass or not to pass.
Classmates and friends showed kindness and solidarity.
Phan Uu. Phung Dieu. To die alone but to live in respect together.
They came sitting in my living room. Like an old song, like a long-lost friend. From High School. From all walks of life, co-ed or all-boys. Yesterday once more…
I was surprised at my own social drama along with everyone else. When did it happen?
How come I hadn’t been informed before print! At least, give me a heads-up. Some warnings (in pajamas?)
before I said goodbye to family and friends, neighbors and teachers.
How many times could one be dead? A fake death! to test and rehearse reactions? to self-sabotage? A mockup exam which carried itself to a logical end? Or a courage test.
By re-entering this social media site, I felt a sense of estrangement. One cannot reemerge into the same stream of time or river. Friendship is not like a Starbucks drive-through or In/Out burgers.
People grow older, hence changed.
Still, the same stimulus-response process with better predictive and tailored ads i.e. want revisit old times? More high school photos, more Saigon.
Those who enjoy fake news are still faking it.
Those who hop in and out are still doing so out of Fear of Missing Out.
The multiple personalities of facebook friends.
For me, I had once “played” dead, false-flagged by our luddite-teachers, themselves anti-technology, against progress, and politicizing everything at every turn.
Much as today with the advent of AI and its repercussions.
Each event draws out reaction then reaction to reaction to form a human chain unnoticeably called evolution. I could have just stopped and not reset right then and there in Ban Co alley, 1974.
I would’ve missed out a lot. Most precious of all, my sending off loved ones over the time-wall, this side of the ocean, like I have last week. It’s a privilege and honor to mourn loved ones. In the old days, we buried the dead after three long days, casket closed but surrounded by family at home.
Today, it’s in the cloud, Facebook and pastbook. Technology and me, time and me, space and me. Somehow, that feeling and friendship don’t go away. The same with running into a relative just one time (my aunt from the North) but our genes could tell, we’re birds of the same feathers.
Then we live till our end to stare death in the eyes.
P.S. for b. Hong, Nhut of Hung Dao 12-A1 class of 1974 who checked up on me during that dark excruciating pause between machine-graded and human-graded pass list.
Thang Nguyen 555 
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