SinigrAtcity
yANYi Leong
SinigrAtcity
yANYi Leong
Prelude In the year 2027, there was a global crisis with too many people immigrating to different developing counties due to various reasons. Because of that, governments around the world commissioned the creation of underground cities below the actual city itself to house these immigrants. Immigrants would contribute to the economy of the city before they are integrated into the society. Upon first arrival, immigrants are escorted to lengthy interviews and are later classified into one of the 4 zones. Each zone would work 6 hours a day and hence the economy of the city would never close. The underground city literally never sleeps. However, this ideal city did not manifest as it should. As entrance to the city is based on the amount of work put in, people are working 16-18 hours a day with only a handful able to ascend above in a year. Despite this setback, the immigration levels of these developing countries continue to increase as people seek a better and safer future. With more and more people trying to migrate in the city, it has taken over a generation to reach the main city.
It’s the year 2054 in Sinigratcity (the city under Singapore), 4 ordinary people from the 4 different districts go about their day as they experience the city.
One.
Beep. - 00:00 Wahn glanced at the digital clock that hung lopsided on the concrete grey wall in front of him. Time to start work, he thought sarcastically. The alarm served as reminder that he had been situated in the same spot for the last 4 hours. Wahn did not realize the tension in his lower back until he leaned back for a stretch. Immediately, he jolted back up as his plastic swivel chair dipped towards the missing wheel. He did not bother checking for the piece of paper that he had initially stuffed in place of the wheel. It was a good reminder for him that he needed to stop procrastinating and get back to work. 5 years of electrical engineering school, and now this, sighing, Wahn fumbled through the mess of computer parts in front of him in search for the right piece. He was lucky though. He actually had a job somewhat related to his field of study. 4 years ago, fresh out of graduate school and unable to find a job back home; Wahn decided to migrate to Singapore. The small sunny island had been dubbed as one of the 4 Asian Tigers a century ago and their economy has not slowed since. With the yearly immigration increasing exponentially, Sinigratcity was built. Work became the currency and the promised life was the prized object. Wahn was always been a diligent worker, and he was sure that he wouldn’t have much of a problem ascending to the city above. After all, only bitter lazy people would spread nasty rumors right?
Yes! Wahn internally exclaimed as he found what he was looking for in the indent of his wooden table, hidden from the ray of the single florescent table lamp in the room. Fixing the piece carefully, the broken 2052 3D-Retina MacBook that he was working on was completed. There was no time to check if the laptop actually works, he just needed to have faith his own ‘supreme skill’. With just a stretch of his arm, he placed the fixed laptop on the makeshift counter of completed jobs and quickly grabbed another one from the broken pile next it. In the early days, he used to come up with stories on how the computers end up in his possession; a fit of angry rage from a lover’s spat, an unknowing child accidently downloading a virus or an office worker overworking the computer. However, those stories are just that, stories. He could not afford to waste precious time on childish thoughts any more. Clark. Clark. Clark. Shit! What is Mr Baas doing down here? Clark. Clark. The echo of his fake leather cock shoes hitting the expecting grey floor came to an abrupt end. Wahn’s heart stopped, afraid to turn around to see his boss standing behind him. “No. 1267. You’re fired.” Mr Baas said nonchalantly.
Wahn spun around quick enough to see the back of Mr Baas disappear down the infinite corridor. His eyes reached No.1267 whose dingy confinement was right across from his. As promptly as No. 1267’s white eyes met his, Wahn turned back to his work. He must have made a mistake. What a stupid guy. No. 1267 and him were sort of friends and he did feel a pang of sadness to see him go. But he did not have time to dwell on the guy that he occasionally smiled to. Wahn picked up his tweezers and continue his work. This is what he needed to focus on. This is his place; in this exact cold square box, beside No. 1264 and 1268.
This is where he belongs.  
Two.
Beep. Beep. - 06:00 Damn it. This is definitely appendicitis, Tu inwardly sighed. This is the part of the job she hates the most. She knows the procedure all too well, send the files to the doctors above for them to confirm what she already knew, wait for 2 days before they respond and tell then apologize the already dead patient that the doctors above has to deal with their other patients above first. Though it really won’t matter anyway, appendicitis is a death sentence. Even the doctors did actually reply before the patient dies, it was not like the patients could afford the cost of the actually surgery. It’s not that everyone here was poor. The extra tax increases monthly and it was currently was twice the amount of the actual surgery itself. It was just plain easier to die. Send! She lightly clicked on the button and her eye wandered to the clock at the bottom of the screen. Just a few hours to the interview!
She was just 7 when her parents moved them here. She remembered how much she cried about not wanting to leave her all her friends behind but her tears dried the instant she reached Singapore soil. Everything was just so big! Huge trees bounded the roads with giants of building towering over her. Tu felt strangely small yet safe. She soon found herself sitting between her parents in a comfortably lit room with a beautiful glass table separating them and the men in black suits at the opposite end. Her parents answered hours full of questions while she quietly entertained herself with thoughts of how they actually managed to get this table into the room. Her excitement continued to run high as she and her family was herded down the glass lifts to the center of this extravagant underground Tetris-grids of building. It never ceased to amaze her how big the buildings were on top and how much bigger they were under here. Through the years, she’s bargained and wined to her parents to bring her back up with no avail. It was not till years later that she realized the cost of levy for her to return to her dreamland. Though her elation slowly chipped a little bit by bit with each passing year, she was determined that one day she would be able to see the city that she feel in love with again.
“Nurse 658! Your patient!” She quickly jerked back to present day and raced down the narrow corridor, sliding and knocking over other nurses. She was lucky that her patient’s cube was not too far down her office. No no no no NO! She was too late. The appendix had ruptured. There’s nothing she can do about it now but to pump her full of drugs and apologize. She felt herself holding back tears as the 15-year-old patient realized her fate. Waves of sadness, frustration and anger washed over Tu as she sat herself back down behind the cracked timber laminated counter. Her eye unconsciously glared right at the concrete wall in front of her as if to crave a hole out of the otherwise windowless wall. No. She was not going to allow this to dampen her mood. Today was her day. Today she was going to finally get into medical school. Today she was going to be able to do something about this.
Today was her day.
Three.
Beep. Beep. Beep. - 12:00 Was it a left in this lane or was it the next? Thri stared down the narrow laneway. Nope, definitely looks the same as every other lane way. A quick gamble and she steered her skateboard down the first laneway. It is ironic that Thri was born in this city and yet she does not know it. Her parents very seldom talked about the country that they escaped from. What she gathered was that she had aunts and uncles and grandparents once upon a time but she don’t anymore. She was constantly told that she was lucky. Though more often than not she does not feel that lucky. Thri does not belong to her parent’s hometown; she does not even know where it is. She does not belong to Singapore, have not actually seen the main city even though she was legally born in the country. The only place that she’s ever known, she does not actually know. She was constantly stuck in between and with no state to call her own.
“DAMN IT!!” Thri kicked the concrete wall in front of her as she glided to a stop. Another dead end. Quickly she turned back the way she came from. She mentally thanked her parents for saving and giving her a skateboard when she was 12 instead of a bike. These narrow laneways was not built for speed. Any faster than her skateboard and she would find herself pushing her vehicle to avoid everyone. The grid city seems easy to navigate. The straight main roads that separate the different zones were easy enough to move about but the 95% of the delivery does not occur near these major roads. Narrow laneways and vertical lifts separate each module. However, due to the increasing amount of migrants, these modules have drastically increased and with that complicating her delivery routes a whole lot more. Thri’s eyes were drawn to the seamlessly endless vertical concrete blocks that city was built in between. She was once told that way above where the concrete touches the ‘ground’ lies buildings as tall enough to touch the sky. Footings, that’s what they are I called, I think. They very reason for the possibility of the cities’ existence. The tiny island of Singapore relied heavily on these pilled footings to reach deep enough to harder ground to secure their boundless towers. It did not take long for the authoritarians to conclude that the spaces in between solid concrete could be habitable as well. Fast forward 27 years, and here Thri is, wheeling herself down the rare empty spaces.
“Ooft!” Thri turned back to her board as she found herself faced flat down on the cool concrete wall. She was always so sure footed and the concrete floor usually does not have any bumps that made skateboarding come so natural to her. “OI! YOU! GIVE ME EVERYTHING,” the ominous shadow above her bellowed. “H-here. T-t-take it.” Her hands trembled and she held out everything she had on her including her deliveries she was supposed to make. She was afraid to look up into his eyes. She knew that she was deep enough in the lanes to make sure that there was no one to call for help from. In one motion, she felt him snatched all her items and made off on her skateboard. It was only when he became a spot in the laneway that she allowed herself to get up. She was fired. That much she knew. Why wasn’t she strong enough to fight him off? She brushed the dirt off her clothes and inspected her new bruise that has formed on her palms when she broke her fall. She was lucky though. All she lost was all her things and her job. She knew far too well that she could have lost much more, much more.
She was lucky.
Four.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. - 18:00 Fawr’s eyes shot wide open. Oh right. I’m still here. Fawr was actually surprised that he actually fell asleep. Maybe it was the skylight in his cell or the circular layout of all the other cells, he always had this sense that he was constantly being watched. “Prisoner 4638. Please exit your cell and walk slowly down to the silver door.” An announcement boomed through his room as the door clicked open. Now I’m certain I’m being watched, he winched as he obeyed the loud demands of the microphone. Today he was going to stand in trail. As he reached the steel door, he heard mechanical gears moving before a soft ‘click’ and the heavy door swung open. He stood frozen at the in between, his mouth hung open. The room that greeted him was framed by high black steeled arches with matching arched windows where light casually streamed through as if they were meant to be there.
“Prisoner 4638. You have been charged of feeding pigeons. How do you plea?” IT’S JUST PIGEONS, Fawr wanted to yell back. He did not understand was he in so much trouble. He only just arrived in Singapore over a year ago after his entire life was swallowed and washed away by a freak storm. He did hear that Singapore had many quirky laws but never in his widest dreams did he think that feeding pigeons was a chargeable offence. “Not guilty your honor.” Should he actually had a second to himself he would have probably laughed at the fact that he was the only real thing in the room. The judge, the jury and even the opposition lawyers were just projections. He should have known earlier that he was not worth the trip down for him. Thri could not afford a lawyer and hence had to represent himself. His extend of his law knowledge roots from the vintage American TV shows like Law and Order which his parents loved to watch over and over again as he was growing up. He was certain this was going to be very different though.
The back and forth did not last long and both the jury and judge had shut their projection off. It can’t be too bad right? After all, it was just pigeons. Slowly the jury began to reappear and the judge followed suit. “Guilty.” “Guilty.” “Guilty.” “Prisoner 4638, you’ve been charged for feeding pigeons and the jury has decided that you are guilty. I herby sentence you to ten years imprisonment!” He was a mess of confusion as he shuffled back down the curved walkway. What just happened? It was only when he was back in his room when reality hit him. He resigned and laid face up to the circular skylight above him. Pigeons flew by the limited circular vision he had as if to mock his solitude. An hour, two hour passed. Fawr watched the sun and clouds play a little game of hide and seek. It had been a while since he had seen the sky.
He could get use to this.
SiniGrAtcity © 2016 by Yan Yi Leong. All Rights Reserved. This design fiction is written for an assignment in the Master of Architecture course in the University of Melbourne. It is an examination and expression of the author’s own beliefs and values towards utopia and dytopian states. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure that the information in this book was correct at press time, the author do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause.
Special thanks to my parents, Cheryl Chua & Leong Kin Weng, who gave me more than everything that I can ever wish for. Joshua Haddad and Dr AnnMarrie Brennan of The University of Melbourne, who guided and taught me about The Architcture of Wishful Thinking.
And a special mention to Kaldi the Ethiopian Goatherd and his dancing goats for the discovery of the coffee plant and invention of coffee. & Ninkasi, the ancient patron goddess of brewing, for the first brewed beer.