Squid Game... Kim Minjun: Part One

[zarathrustra_ink]

"Nobody can ever see your face…”

They repeated it so many times…

As if we would forget.

Last year, in the American games, I was an O and I didn't see myself going any higher. Despite each and every one of us pacing those stairways in hot pink, there was an obvious hierarchy. The squares were at the top of the food chain. They barked orders and took all the credit. There was a rumor that they knew who was under each mask, but I'd only heard it in passing. There was no way to be sure. Mostly because the rumor came from a triangle and one thing was obvious: The triangles talked more than the squares ever did and boy did they enjoy their gossip. At the very bottom, buried underneath their mop buckets and toolboxes, were circles. Circles were basically the clean up crew. Only a lucky few actually got to see the games unfold. The rest, like me, had never seen how it was done, but were on hand to drag the bodies to the incineration hall and mop up the gallons of blood pooled across the floors. With the smell of death wafting through the O on our masks, we would line the floors with figure eights to soak up as much carnage as we could before it was time to set up for the next game.

Last year, some guy, Player 32 if I remember correctly, managed to escape through the air ducts. I was given the credit for his capture, but the story that was told and what had really happened were not one in the same. I was opening the bathroom door when he fell from the ceiling. My hand was still on my zipper when it happened. He landed on top of me. Kind of puts a spin on“It's Raining Men", does it not? Humor aside, when two triangles found us, one celebrated my quick thinking while the other swiped his revolver from his hip. He pulled the trigger without so much as a warning. The bullet penetrated his forehead so quickly. Up until that moment, I'd never seen such a thing! I knew my face had turned green. It had to. There was no way it hadn't. I wanted to throw up all over the inside of that stupid mask, but I knew better. I couldn't show weakness and I couldn't tell what had really led to Player 32s capture. Even without being told, I knew that my reaction would control whether I left that hall vertical or horizontal. So I faked it. I was the hero. Yes I was! I would do it again! Yes, yes I would.

After that, as soon as the games ended, I just wanted to put it behind me. I wanted my life back. No, I wanted me back. So I went home. I returned to Seoul; to a mother who looked down on me for failing out of college and a father who was drinking himself to death before I left and from the looks of it, he still had plans on that early grave. It's amazing how separating yourself from something can cloud your perception of it. In my haste to fly home, I'd forgotten that I was returning home without a diploma in hand. I was deemed a failure, not the conquering hero. The revulsion drenched "Minjun", brought the reality crashing down all around me. In more time than I cared to remember, I hadn't heard my real name. So much so that even from my own mother, it sounded foreign. She was so angry with me. For some reason, they had placed all their eggs in my basket. I had brought dishonor to them.

I hadn't planned on returning to the games. One swirly cloud of gunpowder was enough for me. Honestly, until the evening I was approached, I had no idea that the games were powerful enough to follow me across the ocean. They picked a good day to approach me too. I was sitting on a bench in the subway station. My mom had just tossed all my clothes out on the front lawn because quote:“I'm tired of lying about my son! I want something to be proud of! Your name is supposed to mean intelligent and all I got was you!" It pierced my soul to have her look at me with such disgust so I left. I didn't bother to pick up so much as a sock. I needed a place to think. How I ended up choosing the crowded subway station is beyond me, but there I was and I hadn't been seated for more than four minutes when suddenly, there he was. He'd tapped me on the head, as if that was okay. As if he knew me. I wasn't a player so there was no game to play. He handed me a golden, shiny card embossed with a circle, a square and a triangle. On the back was an address. In my eyes, there wasn't a choice this time. Nobody wanted me, but the games...

They wanted me.

The van door opened. A square mask poked its head out and handed me a hood.“Put this on." He ordered briskly. Nodding weakly, I did as I was told. I understood the same as I did in America. We had to cover our heads, lest we know who we were working with. A high pitched whistle that I recognized as knock out gas filling the vehicle sounded behind me.

My eyes popped open with a start. I sat up quickly to check myself. From the looks of it, other than being in my boxers, I was relatively unharmed. The room was almost an exact replica of the one I'd occupied in America. On a desk in the corner, below a mirror, was a hot pink jumpsuit with a black mask. To the right of the mirror was a sign with three drawings marked

1. Always wear your mask outside the room

2. Do not converse without permission

3, Do not leave the room without permission

I got up to collect my O only to be met with a triangle. I gasped. I already knew I didn't want this job.

Giving it back? Not an option. Switching? Not an option. Making a run for it? Only possible if I wanted to meet the same fate as so many players, and allegedly, a few pink jumpsuits, before me. Slowly, slowly, almost as if the white triangle was going to somehow warp into an O, I reached to pluck it from the hot pink fabric. I held it up to the light. Nope, still a triangle. In the corner, propped against the wall, was an MP5, equipped with two straps. I definitely didn't want this job. I didn't have to turn to know that there was a camera above the door not only watching, but recording my movements. I shuffled back to the desk to get dressed. As I lifted the jumpsuit, I noticed the hand revolver underneath. A knock on the door caused me to jump.“Number 13, hurry up. Count is in five!”Somebody barked. I threw my apparel on as fast as I could to get outside. The MP5 felt so clunky against me as I connected the two straps and put the revolver in the holster. When I opened the door, I was stunned. Apparently I was one of the last to stand under their number. We were instructed to stand under the number right next to our door, same as in America. 13 reflected above my scalp, marking not only which room was mine, but now, who I was. No longer did I have to carry the burden of a name my mother was ashamed to even mention in conversation. I was officially a number, same as the players.
"The first game is Red Light, Green Light." One of the squares, announced. I didn't turn to see if the voice was coming from the left or the right.“If I stop in front of you, you are selected to work this game." Ah, it was coming from the right. One by one, they selected their soldiers. To anyone else, the announcement of“Red Light, Green Light" was probably jarring, but for me, who had actually aided in clean up after the massacre, I knew this was not the case. EIther that, or my ego was whispering through my thoughts. For all I knew, I was on a hall full of second, third, or possibly even fourth timers. "Number 13." I was so deep in thought that at first, I didn't register that it was my number. "Number 13!" The squares didn't like repeating themselves, this I knew from experience. I stepped forward before it could be said again.
"Follow me!" In two rows, we fell in step behind him like the dutiful soldiers we were. I couldn't help but marvel at how the set up was almost exactly like the one in America, right down to the pink stairs. There were a few differences here and there, but for the most part, it was almost as if I'd been transported into a fever dream. Another thing I noticed was that I was one of few looking around. Almost every other mask was pointed at the back of the pink hoods of the squares in front of us.

I stifled the gasp that wanted to tear from my throat. In America, triangles were present during the game, but they weren't leading us inside. As we passed, I caught a glimpse of the same creepy, gigantic doll. It looked like something that would be cute and fun to have around were it smaller, but in that scale, coupled with what I knew, she was damn near horrendous. I averted my mask to face forward, but before it landed on our leaders, I was able to catch the little Squid Game symbol on her hair, placed as if it were a purple bow. They led us until we arrived in what I could only describe as a huge cave. Squares instructed one row to line up in a single file and hold their guns forward, as if in a silent warning.“You will watch over the circles bringing down the eliminated players." Came the instruction.

As I said, In America, I'd been one of the circles tapped to clean up after“Red Light, Green Light." I'd imagined them entering the room as I dusted the ground with my mop bucket full of dirt, as a way to give my mind something to do, outside of focusing on the task at hand. They wanted the area to look as if nothing had happened, but this wasn't a standard mop job. We were covering blood with dirt. Every few seconds, I would look at the door, camouflaged within the bright, beautiful cloudy day muraled on the walls, imagining the players filing in, one by one, all with various versions of smiles, some of them curious with wonder. Some were joking, others were quiet, simply studying their surroundings. It was easy to tell they only knew they would be playing games. Possibly not even what kind. Simply a politician's version of events and they were good to go. Giving information, without actually giving information, I mean. "You will be playing popular games from childhood" is what they were probably told. That, and nothing more. There's no way they would be walking through those doors with that kind of gusto if they had been told everything. Or maybe they did know. I had no idea. I was only part of the cover up. One by one, she would pick them off with four simple words: "Red Light, Green Light.”She knew their movements. Analytical down to the last detail, if so much as a drop of sweat dripped from their terrified brows, they were instantly eliminated. Or so I had been told.

In Korea, again, I would not see the game. Only this time, I had no interest in imagining their smiles or their curiosity. I knew why they were there now. Drowning in debt and feeling like they were out of options, they were no different than me. That's what scared me the most, you see. This new understanding meant that yes, I was carrying the guns, but I was no different than any of the faces being gunned down on the orders of that stupid doll.

"The rest of you will follow me." Now instead of two, we were one row. Up the stairs we followed until we were standing at a gigantic set of double doors. "Guns at the ready." Though I welcomed the shift in weight on my shoulder, I wasn't exactly excited to point that thing. Six stayed outside. The rest were ordered inside those doors and unfortunately, my triangle was one of those selected. Nearly all the players were arguing in the middle of the floor. Some were shouting. Others had graduated to grabbing and shoving. All of it signaled that they had played and they had won, but of course, it was hard to see it that way and why would they? So many tracksuits were plastered in bloody designs. There was no need for a politician's explanation now. They knew what this was. Despite being winners, one tilt in fortune and they could easily become losers. The room was alive with a bone chilling vibration of fear. The beds, stacked higher than any bunk beds I'd ever seen, almost kissed the ceilings. I didn't need to be interested in these people, but it was too late. I was already learning the curves of their fearful faces. Nestled by the leg of the third stack of beds was a face that curiously, didn't have a stitch of fear etched into it. She looked annoyed. Her eyes weren't on the players arguing. She didn't even wince when our leader square fired his gun. There was so much happening around her and yet, she only had eyes for a man a few feet away, Player 244. He was rocking back and forth. I was too far away to hear, but for how vehement he was about his movements, I was willing to bet he was deep in prayer. The hunch in her back was so deep in concentration that I couldn't get a full look at her number. How she was positioned, I could only manage to make out a two. Or at least I was pretty sure it was a two. It could've easily been a three. Player 218 was in the middle of regurgitating the contract they had signed. Some weren't exactly fans of our leader's explanation as to why they were there. They wanted to leave. I needed to get my head in the game. Waiting for the girl to relax a little, I'd missed the ushering in of these tall blocks. One with a red X, the other, a green O. They were given a chance to vote on their freedom and as we looked on, one by one they approached the blocks to press a button. Finally, I saw her number: She was Player 240. She pressed the red X and I wasn't surprised. She didn't strike me as a quitter. In the end, it was decided that they were free. I hadn't seen that one coming. In America, the concept had never come up.

We followed our leader square from the room. Down the hallway we walked until we were back at the staircases. It didn't feel like it, but many hours had passed. My stomach growled loudly in anguish. Up the stairs, down the stairs. Down the halls, up the halls. Did they not know the concept of lunch? My question was soon answered as a resounding no. Another square joined our ranks. Then another. And another. "Follow him." One said. That one wasn't my group. Mine was the next.“You will be overseeing the circles in the set up of the next game.”

The next game? I thought, confused. Were they killing every player who voted green and ushering in a new batch?

There was no time to ponder this. I had to focus. I stopped in front of a pair of circles who were painting a green and red fence. Up on ladders, other circles were working on puffy clouds. In the middle of the dirt, a larger group were assembling playground equipment. Since nobody had actually told me where to stand, I chose to watch them. There was no rush about them as they selected their metal poles. By the time the slide was lifted into the air, my stomach felt as if it wanted to tear through my back. The doors opened, revealing a tall figure, cloaked in all black, his face covered by a blocky looking mask. I'd never seen him before, but something about how he moved cast an important air about him as he walked from each piece of equipment to inspect the circles' efforts.

One of the squares turned as he heard him stroll up behind him. "Sir?"

"We are going to proceed as planned." He said, nodding at the structure. He continued to speak, almost as if to himself: "The players will return. They think it's better out there, but they are cowards. Each and every one of them. At the sign of real trouble, we won't have to make any strides. They'll be begging to be let back in.”

"Sir!" The square gave a quick nod.

Satisfied with the response, he turned to head to the next piece. Piece by piece, he walked until he had stopped in front of all the equipment. With what I assumed was a smug gait, he headed for the doors. As soon as they closed behind him, one of the squares made a circular motion with two fingers on his right hand. The other squares nodded. "Dinner time." The one closest to me said.

******