August 24th was a memorable day. We woke up in the hotel. We joked that we were all so drunk yesterday; we needed to figure out who our bed partner was. But we knew it was going to be a busy day. I have decided to refer to Ruth and Quincy Lo as “our partners.” I will use that term for the rest of the book when I want to refer to them as a couple. Our partners enjoyed the hot bath and a big breakfast in the hotel restaurant.
We drove back to our apartment, and our partners started to get the joke. Our apartment was so small and cramped; there was hardly enough room for us, much less room for them as well. Ruth asked, “How can you stand this dump?” I was laughing as usual. We contacted the rental agency, and got a much bigger apartment, with three bedrooms. I figured that we might do some clothes shopping in the next few weeks so the extra space would be put to good use. That turned out to be an understatement.
We all decided that we needed to purchase a house as soon as possible. We needed a permanent address for our paperwork. We needed a place to store all of our goods. We did get phones for our partners so we could manage our schedules and our housing search. We insisted that the phones be registered in the name of the user. That evening, our partners told us over dinner that if they said yes within two days, they could have their old jobs back at the middle school. It seemed like a good idea. Having immediate employment would add cash to our finances; Faith and I were at the time unemployed. It meant that Faith or I would have to drive them until one of our partners got a driver's license. The plan was to teach only for one more school year. All of our partners' free time would be spent learning computer programming. Ruth had suggested adding a programming course at the middle school that she would teach. She would get a small salary bump, and it would force her to stay a week or two ahead of her students.
I knew our partners were asking permission. I said, “Your instructions are to follow your hearts.” Ruth said, “The job starts in one week. We cannot imagine a job that we could get this easily that would pay as well. A teaching job gives us many hours to study for the next year. We earn money now; we earn more the next year. A small step happens before a big step.” Faith answered, “Good, I like that logic. If I were you, I would accept that job. It is good to coordinate, but you do not need our permission.”
In the morning, we started our house hunting. Faith had a recommendation from a friend to use a particular real estate agency. The staff there could not have been nicer. They understood our statement that we needed four people to pass judgment on a house. I think they were pleased that we were interested in a big house. No one was buying them in the current market.
They lined up ten houses for us to examine. It took us two days to walk through them all. We all decided that two houses were way better than the others. We took lots of photos of these two houses. We had an expert check both of them out. One had foundation and roof problems. The other did not. So we made a low-ball offer on our favorite house. Our offer of $141,000 was accepted. The house probably sold for two million dollars 25 years earlier at the height of the housing bubble.
No one offered mortgages anymore. You bought your house with your bank account, or you rented. By paying in full, we four were now the proud owners of 267 Stillwater Lane, located about 10 miles from downtown Portland. We had a six bedroom house with some additional rooms. It had a library, a dining room, a family room, and a very practical kitchen downstairs. Upstairs there were a few small rooms for private study or hobbies. There was a large basement which was used for all sorts of things over the years. We built playsets for the kids to use on rainy days. When the kids were older, we set up a shooting range. But I am getting a bit ahead of our story. We had a shady area in the yard for a play area (and for a chicken house) and a sunny area in the side yard for vegetable crops.
It was surprisingly easy to register our house in the names of all four of us. We were told that since slaves could not own assets, it was a moot point. I just said that if our slaves were freed, it would take a difficult lawsuit to remove their names from the deed. It would also be a taxable event to transfer half the house to our freed slaves. I explained that I intended, in time, to free our slaves, and to split the property, and I did not want to be taxed for doing so. The staff at the property and deeds office just said that they understood, but I could tell that they thought I was crazy. The great thing was that there was very little resistance to this. The office did exactly as I asked. Our partners glowed when they saw the paperwork that showed that the house was equally theirs as it was ours. They hugged us and said, “Thank you” a dozen times. We had the deed framed and placed in the entryway to our house. Each time I look at the deed, I feel deep pride in what we had done in those early days.
I soon realized that we needed a pickup truck to bring all the items we had in storage to our new house. We would always need a big vehicle to bring maintenance supplies to our large house. Even hauling a single new window would be difficult in my tiny car. I asked Faith, “How would you like to drive a pickup truck?” Then I explained that our next vehicle needed to be a truck. She laughed and said, “Sure. But I am going to borrow your car when I apply for a job. I do not want to give the wrong impression!” One of my buddies in the “Nerd Salad” days told me about a friend who was desperate to sell his truck. It took only five loads with the pickup truck to bring all the items out of storage to our new house.
We were all required to obtain new ID cards identifying ourselves as owners or slaves. We all held temporary ID cards ever since the purchase. It was a bit humiliating to be subjected to repeated paperwork checks, fingerprinting, and photographs. It was obvious that some people were scamming the system, possibly by trying to transfer slaves from one owner to another in sham deals designed to transfer assets to avoid paying taxes. To get the IDs, we needed to prove that our bank account was used and that the purchaser actually got paid.
Faith and I got plastic ID's showing that we were owners, with small pictures and names of our property. Our partners got ID's showing that they were property, with small pictures and names of their owners. After getting the cards, we all had lunch together at a small restaurant. At one point I said, “Well, at least if the police ever stop us, we now have ID cards that can establish our identity.” Ruth added, “And these cards show that we are bound together as a family.”
We were under the gun trying to get as much done as possible before our partners needed to go back to work at the beginning of the school year. I wanted our bank account to be a truly joint account. The bank would not have any of this. They did not have a problem with a slave having a bank account of $100, but they could not tolerate a slave having access to an account in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. The bank said they would be on the hook legally if a slave used the money to escape. Faith and I offered to sign a waiver of liability. They refused us on that as well.
We had to spend an hour on the phone until we found a cooperative bank. We moved the account to our new bank and filled in paperwork so that the four members of our household each had full access to the funds. I later found out that this bank had several key staffers who were legally slaves, and these sorts of arbitrary restrictions made life difficult for the bank as well. We were more than happy to move our account to a bank which was open-minded about supporting their customers' wishes.
Faith did the daily run of driving our partners to their job since she is a morning person. I did the afternoon pickup. After six weeks of this, Quincy got his driver's license. As promised, we got a plausible junker car. We all knew we could afford a much better car, but that would have made our partners much too conspicuous. We did not want our slaves to be arrested for DIAFC (driving in a fancy car). A week or two after Quincy had independent transportation, Faith and I got jobs. Faith got a plum programming job at a major bank. I got a mid-level IT job at a chain of stores. The combined salary for all four of us was just over $75,000, which was a fortune in those days. Our partners earned only $22,000 together, so we knew that we would be earning more when they could locate technical jobs. I did my best to accept that my wife was making $10,000 more than me. The situation made me very aware that minor resentments simmer in what looked like a great relationship. Keeping everything on an even keel required constant work.
Quincy noticed that once we all had full-time jobs, we got very grumpy and surly when the weekend started. He asked us, “What can we do to force us to transition from a work week to a more relaxed weekend?” Faith told stories about Jewish neighbors celebrating Friday afternoon Shabbat. After some discussion, we decided to adapt this tradition to our household. We made a big meal together. We agreed to complain about our work week while we were preparing the meal. At the point we were done, we walked into the dining room, lit a candle, and refrained from talking about work. On so many Friday nights we did not feel like preparing a meal from scratch. When we did it anyway, we all enjoyed it. Having a weekly ritual helped bind us together as a unit. We also made it a point to include all the adults in our house, including those that were not part of our “meal plan.” When we had guests over, they loved how we got our work frustrations out while wielding knives and hot things. Once we sat down to dinner, we put all of that behind us. Our guests thought we were part of some religious cult. We replied, “It is the things we do over and over again that make us human.”
Once we had enough furniture, cooking equipment, and tableware, we invited the neighbors on either side of our house over for an afternoon barbeque. We also needed to adjust our own attitude. We were flipping the script that Connie and Terry used at their parties. We all dressed alike and treated each other completely equally. We recorded various meals from cooking to clean up and watched carefully for any sign that we were falling into tired social norms of master and slave. Eventually, we got to the point where every interaction was as smooth and normal as would be seen in any marriage.
It was a bit tricky since it was hard to telegraph to our visitors not to treat our partners as if they were slaves. We made it clear that we were all sharing in the food preparation, serving and cleaning up. Both houses had grandparents, parents, and children. It took many incomes to support a large house in our neighborhood. Ruth explained that we were all trying to get work so that our pooled income would support the house. She said it as if she was the house manager, and she also gently chided Faith and me for not having jobs (at least not on the date of the barbeque). Our guests looked shocked that a slave would be acting as the house manager. I decided to have some fun, so I said, “Ruth, I am certain that Faith and I will get jobs soon. By next summer, I am sure that we will have positive cash flow.” Ruth did not miss a second. She answered, “Well, I would hope so!” Faith and Quincy almost burst out laughing. I did notice that the guests all brought their used plates to the kitchen, not wanting to ask Ruth to pick up after them. Of course, it was all a big joke, we all had full time jobs for more than a month.
We did wonder how to describe the relationships inside of our household. What we really needed was a simple narrative, a story to tell. One approach was not to mention it at all. In many circumstances, the most straightforward narrative was the external fiction, “Master and slave.” A better explaination was, “We are running a household as a partnership of two couples to maximize money and human rewards.” A cryptic explanation said, “We are roommates who enjoy doing things together.” The full narrative was very difficult to express in a way that was likely to be understood.
One afternoon, Faith and Quincy were off with the pickup truck getting furniture from a garage sale. Ruth turned to me and asked, “Faith has experienced my husband a few times already. Do you want to have a good experience with me?” The question took me off guard. I did not need to be talked into anything. We went into the bedroom that our partners were using, and did what came naturally. I was a bit nervous that our spouses would be back at any moment. Ruth sensed my unease and whispered in my ear, “Do not worry. I told Quincy to take lots of time on this trip. We have plenty of time.” For a short time, I was thinking about my wedding vows. But I did remember that by the time we were married, both of us had “experience” with Faith's roommates. Mostly, I did not do much thinking; I was living in the moment, focusing on my current sexual partner. When we finished, Ruth asked me, “Did you like this?” I refused to answer unless she answered the same question to me. When Quincy and Ruth came home, Ruth smiled broadly to Quincy, who then smiled at me.
In mid-September, Quincy mentioned at breakfast that his parents managed a small restaurant in Portland. I was astonished. I asked, “How long has it been since you have seen your parents?” Quincy said, “It has been about two years.” I said, “Can we go there tonight? This is exciting!” Quincy shook his head, “My parents are deeply ashamed of the loan they took out to help my aunt's business. These loans collapsed and resulted in my family's enslavement. The last time I came to my parents, they could not look me in my eyes. I am not certain they would be able to speak to me.” Faith said, “Please have some faith that when the four of us walk in as proud and free as we can, your parents will be happy to see you.”
Once we were all finished with work and got home, we all dressed up and drove to The Emperor's Palace, Quincy's parents' restaurant. We went in and sat down. When Sally Lo, Quincy's mother, came over to offer menus, she looked stunned when she saw her son looking well as one of four well-dressed people. Quincy stood up and said, “I would like to introduce you to my mother, Sally Lo. Mother, these are the people who share a house that we all own together. You know Ruth; this is Chris and his wife, Faith.” At that point, we all stood up and shook her hand. Her voice was weak and happy. She said, “Please, let me bring my husband from the kitchen.” In a minute, he came out, looking upset and angry. When he saw us as a group of four, his expression changed. He shook our hands and said, “I am so glad that my son is doing so well. No matter what happens, I know you will make us and all of our family, alive and dead, so very proud.” It did take a lot of negotiating, but we were able to have Sally and Chan Lo over to our house for Thanksgiving. We were able to give them a better idea of our grand project.
I did ask Ruth about her parents. She had no idea of where they were. She did not think that they lived in Portland anymore. Faith used her bank connections to make some inquiries. She was able to trace them to Salt Lake City. I suggested that we take a road trip to Salt Lake City during the Christmas and New Year holiday. Ruth said, “I do not think that would be a good idea. We need banking, police, and other offices open to locate my parents. These offices will be closed or will be partially shut down. We should wait until my spring break next year. Perhaps I could travel with Chris to avoid too much disruption of our household. I would not want Faith to miss a week of work. She has the highest income of our group. Until then, we will search for my parents using telephones and computers. I very much want to spend Christmas and New Year's Eve at our house. I do not want to be traveling at that time.”
Christmas was fun at our house. Not much alcohol was consumed that year. Both Faith and Ruth were pregnant. Faith was a bit further along than Ruth. Faith was due in May 2034. Ruth was due in June or July. We decided that since this was our only child-free Christmas, we needed to set out our preferred Christmas traditions. As soon as we had kids, we would want to keep things the same. As Faith pointed out, “When our children are very small, we will want each year to be similar to the previous year, so the photographs and our memories will blend together.” We decided to go around the table to list the things we wanted in a family Christmas tradition. I was first. I said, “Since I am half-German, I have to say a Christmas tree decorated in old-fashioned European style. I remember a real tree with strings of lights and shiny decorations and a star on top of the tree.” Faith added, “I have strong memories of my dad dressing up as Santa Claus. I also remember huge Christmas decorations on our front lawn. I think my father liked getting the approval of his neighbors by having an outside display that was enjoyed by all the kids on our street.”
Quincy said, “I remember a huge feast of Chinese food in the afternoon. It was special because there were a great many dishes. You would take a tiny bit of each one, but there were so many dishes that you would think you would not eat again for two days.” Ruth added, “When I was small, I remember my parents preparing very intricate small gifts for many friends, relatives, and especially business associates. They thought it was rude to give big store-bought presents. They made tiny lacquered boxes, each one holding something of value. I think they saved up all year to give them all.” Quincy frowned and said, “That would seem to be very hard to duplicate. Without meaning to insult your parents, I would say that giving out so many expensive presents may have led to their family's enslavement. But I do like the idea of remembering as many people as we can in a wide circle and showing that we care about others. It is very thoughtful.”
By the time the dinner was over, we had a complete list of things to do for Christmas. Ruth asked that each year, Quincy and I flip a coin to see who Santa Claus is. Faith said, “I hate to say this, but none of this is going to work unless we do our best to start this year. We need to get the tree decorations, the lawn decorations, the dinner recipes this year. Next year we will be dealing with two kids. We will not be able to pull this off unless we have a dry run. Why don't we organize a Christmas party for your Nerd Salad friends a few days before Christmas? I know they have a few small kids. Let's put on a proper Christmas in our household tradition that we just worked out 20 minutes ago!” Faith was right. All the things we remembered from childhood that seemed to “just happen” took a lot of adult organizing time.
A week before Christmas, We had the entire Nerd Salad gang, their partners, and their kids over for a Christmas party. We had the lawn decorations, the decorated tree, and all the other things around to make a festive house. Our house was host to four kids, ranging from one year to four years old. Since the Nerd Salad was my friends, I did the bulk of the socializing. Ruth and Faith dealt with the kids. Quincy was Santa Claus. Ruth and Faith kept a careful list of everything we needed to remember for next year.
Over the adult dinner, I explained our personal and business plans. My high school friends were astonished. When I explained that a very large house was cheaper than a single family house, my friends asked, “Are you saying that if we all doubled up on housing, we would free up about $100,000 per double family?” Ruth, as usual, got in first, and said, “Perhaps more than $100,000.” I pointed out, “Doubling up works only if the two family units stay together for decades. We have pledged to stay together for 30 years. If you can do the same, you can peel off some valuable capital. But you need a suitable long-term goal that you are all committed to before you attempt to do what we are doing. You risk being forced back to your present situation having lost thousands of dollars of transaction fees and taxes. But if you are renting housing, you could experiment sharing a single large house for a year to see how things work out.” I wondered if the Nerd Salad was going to get a bit spiced up by the formation of blended households.
At the end of the evening, we all helped bundle the kids into the cars and said our goodbyes. We had learned a little bit about handling kids and basic childcare. Our house needed a lot of childproofing. We needed a lot more table space to serve a huge Chinese feast. We glowed, knowing that next year, we would be taking pictures of our own children's first Christmas.
A few weeks later, we had an unfortunate incident in downtown Portland. A police officer yelled for us to stop and pulled his gun on us. He asked us to lie down on the ground face down. I pointed out that we had two pregnant ladies. I asked, “Can they just sit down on the sidewalk?” He said yes. He asked us for our ID cards. One by one, we carefully pulled out our ID cards that showed that our group consisted of two owners and two slaves. We thought that would be the end of it, but he called on the radio for backup. He tried to arrest Faith and me. I asked, “What are we charged with?” He said that we were insufficiently restraining our slaves. He said our slaves should be in handcuffs and other chains. I explained that the law required the slaves to be restrained to the satisfaction of the owners. I asked, “Does that not mean that my opinion is the sole determination of whether a law has been broken?” It took a bit of time, but one of the other officers on the scene did diffuse the situation. Finally, the arresting officer realized that he was liable to be sued. Lawsuits that go bad can lead to enslavement. He finally released us. We did get our names in the newspaper over the episode.
Fortunately, none of us had any problems with our jobs over this episode. I did get a document signed by a police commissioner saying that we did not have to restrain our slaves in Portland, Oregon. We all decided that since laws and customs were different in other jurisdictions, we should use restraints when we traveled elsewhere.
We did get a fair amount of hate mail after our names were in the newspapers. We were called “Slave Lovers” and “Spoiled Cattle.” It was all very hurtful. We did ignore these. We did get a few letters that were friendly. It was through those letters that we learned of a “hidden underground” of people who lived with slaves in more egalitarian relationships. Bit by bit, we started making friends with like-minded people.
One week into February, Ruth had an ultrasound. The big reveal was that she was having twins, a boy and a girl. The medical technician who gave us the result congratulated me since now my slave was worth so much more money. I just said, “All children are valuable beyond all words and understanding.” I think the technician thought that I had no grasp of capitalist economics. I thought she had no idea of the worth of each human soul.
A week after the ultrasound, I took Ruth with me on a trip to Salt Lake City. We had a tip that Ruth's parents worked at a major department store in Salt Lake City. We had a list of seven department stores to visit. At the fifth store we visited, the personnel manager told us they had sold Ruth's parents to a hotel in the adjacent town of Holladay, Utah. We drove to the Parkhurst Hotel and checked in. As we were checking in, I made sure Ruth was on a leash. I asked, “Do Grace and Xu Wang work at this hotel?” The man at the hotel desk said, “Yes, but you cannot speak to them. That is forbidden.” I negotiated that once we had fully checked in, we could add $30 to the hotel bill, and we could have a 45-minute session with Ruth's parents in the cafe.
We waited for half an hour in the restaurant. We stood up when a manager came in with Ruth's parents. Ruth was deeply embarrassed to be wearing a leash. I would have paid anything not to be holding a leash, but I did not want to be spending time in jail in what was a foreign country. The manager sat down at our table. I asked if it was OK to be ordering food for everyone. She said this was fine. We quickly ordered food that we knew was quick to prepare.
Ruth's parents were delighted to see Ruth. They knew that the manager was not pleased, so they were careful not to smile. But their voices were warm and genuine. Ruth said that she was working on a project that would allow her to be free in twenty years. She told them that she expected to give birth to twins in late June. Her parents were delighted to be informed. We asked the manager if it was OK to send a letter when their daughter gave birth. She said yes. It was very awkward, but it was the best we could do.
Of course, we shared a room together. We did not make love that night. We hugged each other tightly. We both cried a lot before we fell asleep. We did stop at a few tourist locations on the way back to Portland. When we were a few hours away from Portland, Ruth said, “Before going on this trip, I did not know if my parents were alive or dead. I got to visit them. I know their address, I can write to them. I gave them my phone number when the manager was not looking. I call this trip a complete success.” But I did notice a few tears on her face as she was trying so hard to be upbeat.