The Travels of Mr. Greg Fields
or, a Journey to a remote and unforgiving land
The author of the following account is my ancient and intimate friend; there is likewise some relation between us by the father’s side. About four years ago, though I cannot recall the exact date, this Mr. Fields grew weary of his digs in New Jersey and decided to travel across the broad pacific to Korea, then a wild and grim land inhabited only by talking reptiles and professional StarCraft gosus. After returning a somewhat changed man - he was gone a good three years - Mr. Fields left the following pages in my custody with the ambition that I would show them to the world. I have carefully perused them a good number of times, and I am willing to say that they evince a strong scientific mind, though perhaps a plain and unimaginative one. I have said that Mr. Fields returned to New Jersey with a different demeanour, and perhaps I should explain here what I mean. I think that a little knowledge of the man himself may facilitate a stronger understanding of the processes of his mind, and the apparent vagaries of his inclinations.
I knew Mr. Fields very well before he quitted New Jersey. He was a gamer there, a humble and affecting gentleman who, I am told, endeared himself well to other players and fans alike. I certainly had nothing but the sincerest respect for him; he was mild-mannered and gentle, the type who would spend a Saturday afternoon walking amiably with friends through woodland, espying and naming rare varieties of birds. He was a masterful conversationalist, endowed with a great deal of knowledge about many things, though never advertising his erudition through pontification. He used to write poems in blank verse and occasionally send them to me for my opinions. He wrote well and with great poise, a quality severely lacking in the men of today. His first love was with Blake, and he was well known for reciting the poet’s songs for the benefit of his company. Also, his love of Hindu mythology was well documented; he had a particular enthusiasm for one Indrajit, a warrior who, it was said, was fated to conquer the Hindu king of Gods.
I remark on these qualities because I want to stress the marked change that I saw in the man after he returned from Korea. The pages before me show little of the poetic in he whom I knew so well. The style is plain. This, perhaps, speaks to the veracity of his account, and though I doubt that Mr. Fields could ever be guilty of lying, or even embellishment, the strongest impression these pages give is that they are truthful.
I am also fortunate enough to have been the recipient of a number of photograms that Mr. Fields, among others, took on his voyage. In some instances you might find them more illuminating than the words. I have had some of them framed and I enclose the daguerreotypes of those here.
This is a near full version of Mr. Fields’ papers. I saw it prudent to strike out some of the more mundane episodes, and I trust that the reader will not find me guilty of expurgating the text to my or anyone else’s advantage. I have removed some lengthy and, quite frankly, dull descriptions of the Korean terrain, among other things. If you find yourself desiring any more information on Mr. Fields, maybe insight into his character or journey that these pages do not provide, please feel free to contact me via telegram or letter. I hope that I have not granted a disservice to either the reader or Mr. Fields by issuing his account in its current form. I still have nothing but the greatest respect for my friend, and wish him well wherever he may now be.
Sincerely yours dear reader,
Grovel Oh-Sea
Part 1
Preparations
The Author gives some information about himself, his current condition and despondency, and some reasons for travelling abroad.
Preparations
The Author gives some information about himself, his current condition and despondency, and some reasons for travelling abroad.
I was born and raised happily enough. My father being a theoretical physicist, I was encouraged to study the natural world from a very young age, and to apply to all I saw the closest of scientific scrutinies. My father worked me hard in my studies, and I acquired a determined and deliberate approach to everything that I did. My mother was a kindly woman, though sometimes grim and with altogether a firm but loving disposition. She taught me the value of good manners, something which, until very recently, I had the presence of mind to uphold. I have since learned that there are necessarily times in a man’s life when he is somewhat put out, and it beholds him then to assert himself in order to secure some privation. The wise men among us say that travel broadens the mind, as surely as it does curb the manners. Given the distance from home and the degree of discomfort that that brings, sometimes it is understandable how we come to disagreement with those around us; at any rate, I will explain more of this when the time comes.
I have mentioned that my father was a physicist, but he also had good knowledge of economics, and I was schooled from a young age on the importance of sound fiscal judgement. I have used this knowledge well during the past four years or so, and I am grateful to my dear father for teaching me well in this regard. Above all, he stressed the importance of frugality, something which is well applied to other aspects of life too. This, along with a close supervision of assets, debts, accounts, was my father’s financial byword, and I have put it to good use throughout my life.
After finishing school with very good grades, I found myself with a wealth of tertiary education options to choose from. Of course, I desired greatly to study physics, but I found that I could no longer reconcile this want with my enthusiasm for StarCraft, a hobby which I had been pursuing from a young age. At first this was simply an avocation, something that I gave time to during quieter hours when a boy needs an object with which to occupy his overactive mind, but this soon blossomed into a passionate and requited love. I’ll admit that it seems an inane pursuit to the uninitiated, if only for the fact that the rewards of toiling away at it are not visibly manifest. I spent hours and hours at a time ensconced at my desk, directing with bravura my troops to war, and savouring with relish each ounce of glory that came with victory; and victory did I achieve often, so much so that I had begun to make a name of myself in the community, that little cluster of like-minded believers who share a holy passion.
Now, as I have mentioned, this pursuit of mine had started to conflict with my study of physics, not in that it acted to the detriment of my grades, but rather in that I had begun to entertain thoughts of pursuing it after my schooling. My parents were very much conscious of this fact, and from the fore they demurred to my insistence that I could potentially make my way in the world through rigorous study and application to the game; the idea was anathema to them. My father had assumed that I would be following in his footsteps, that I would, in his own words, devote a humble life to a proud practice. My mother, being the social minded creature that she was, saw it as unbefitting a boy with such talent for scientific edification; I had the world at my feet, she said, and I was choosing to deny my access to it with such deliberate abandon!
I grew disconsolate during this time. I continued to play StarCraft into the early hours of each quiet morning, securing win after win and building a solid network of fellow players and judicious administrators. It was then that I began to perceive of Korea a realistic destination: only there could I be sure of the most vigorous competition, and thus the surest success. I had been aware of the land for some time, a veritable idyll for the pro-gamer it was said, a place where paradisiacal milk flowed in the form of fruitful contracts signed, sponsorships made, and deference well earned. I resolved then to travel there, and though I knew full well the dangers of such a journey, I was prepared to risk life and limb in order to play StarCraft at its highest level. I told my parents as much; they were aghast. Let it be known that, despite my father being an intelligent and liberal man, he was loathe to travel any great distance lest it be strictly necessary; my mother was of similar inclination. They could not quite understand the exigency of this journey, and though I did my best do persuade them to the contrary, they insisted that I was to stay put and attend college in the fall of that year. It was too late for that: I had made prior plans.
In my determination to be rid of New Jersey and the suffocating conventions of pursuing a vocation there, I had made clandestine plans with a merchant at the dock who owned a number of small vessels. It was decided that I was to rent a skiff from him, paying just upwards of forty dollars for a week’s trip. Of course, I had no intention of returning during or after that time, and thankfully for me the man demanded no collateral in case of my absconding with the vessel. I managed to raise the money by pawning my computer gear, as well as my collection of rare stamps from the days when private post enterprises covered the ground that the government could not, delivering mail to those who lived in remote and rural areas. I made the deliveries the night I left, returning to my house only in order to wish my parents a farewell. They were asleep, and tearfully I touched my mother’s cheek, committing to memory the tone of her gentle snores and the louder rumbling of my father’s. I was troubled then by a moment of indecision, and had I not taken swift resolve to rush out of the room at that instant and quit for good my familiar home, I doubt now whether I would be here writing this account today, such was my vacillation.
I made my way stealthily to the dock, and, finding my merchant in waiting with the contract to sign, made good on our agreement and boarded the little skiff. I had taken with me some proper supply of victuals, along with a sextant and astrolabe with which I had familiarised myself prior to departure. I was confident that I could navigate the rough seas north to Nova Scotia, and from there it was simply a matter of rounding Canada and then crossing the Pacific Ocean (left at Russia). I had packed a good fur coat, the lining of which I had stuffed with grass to further prevent the heat escaping. I took with me also the manual that came with my copy of StarCraft: Brood War to better understand the intricacies of the game; the days would be long and the nights longer, and I needed something to keep my mind occupied. Last on my list was a mouse pad, an essential piece of equipment that would double as a blanket when I entered colder climes. I had prepared for the worst, and I was convinced that nothing could take me by surprise; little could I then anticipate the thousand tribulations that my journey would engender.
The night was calm, clear, and the sea brilliantly luminescent. The moon hung quietly in her abode, a soft hint of a breeze lending life to my silvery sails. With one great, final surge of conviction, I cast off, leaving the continent behind. The gravity of my decision hit me there and then with full and unremitting force: I was sailing to a new land, and a new dawn.
Part 2