In most cases, the emails were inquiries about The Wrong Map. Usually they were petty requests, asking to hear about additional cases for the sake of assignments or personal research, or requests for Jin’s bibliography, though there were various others in the mix: people reporting acquaintances with a broken map, people suspicious that they themselves had wrong maps, and even people who without any context demanded that Jin meet up with them to talk.
Jin initially read through every single one of these random stories because of hope: hope that maybe they would encounter the very case they were looking for. But with time Jin let go of such expectations. Jin understood the desperation the senders felt. Jin was once like that too. So Jin traveled the world, sacrificed sleep for research, and fumbled their way through obscure medical terms while reading journal articles. But now the research was over. Jin hadn’t found what they were looking for, and they were tired.
Many said that reading The Wrong Map had led them to surprising realizations, to new motivations within their lives, and a better understanding of people different from themselves. This felt both odd and unfair to Jin, who, even after writing the book, was left with numerous questions.
The journey to understand Laura did not provide Jin with any answers. The Wrong Map may have been salvation to some, but it did not save Jin. Now, Jin was merely a journalist who had put an end to the story. That was why Jin didn’t respond to any of the increasing interview requests and emails when The Wrong Map was adapted into a documentary and won awards at multiple film festivals. They thought any addendum would be unnecessary. Within Jin, the issue was finished, left incomplete.
But the email that came a week ago was a bit different. The woman, who identified themselves as H, neither asked for a bibliography nor went on and on about their situation or others’. There wasn’t even an introduction, or the usual backstory about how they had come across the book. The opening of the email was like any other. That H was greatly moved after reading The Wrong Map; that the book was telling H something of significance about their life. Of course, if that had been all, Jin wouldn’t have treated this email any differently from the others.
H had added a different question. They had asked about Laura.
I’ve read about your lover before. I’m in a similar situation, and have thought about that piece for a long time. I assume your lover is the L in your dedication. Have they read the book? May I ask what kind of decision they made?
Where had H read the story about Laura? Jin never mentioned Laura, not once, in the book. Though behind every trip and every sentence was the desire to understand Laura, Jin ultimately did not use Laura’s name. Even if Laura had given them permission to write their story, Jin wouldn’t have used their name.
Jin thought back to post-publication interviews, wondering if they had absentmindedly said something, but couldn’t recall mentioning Laura even in passing. From time to time, some attentive readers would ask who the person in the dedication was, but Jin was always tight-lipped about the question. Jin thought perhaps the “before” H mentioned was in fact long before, even before they had drawn up a rough draft of The Wrong Map in their mind. This would have been before Jin made a proper living from writing, from when they had to write trite relationship columns in a magazine for petty cash. Jin felt regret as they thought through what they had written back then, then decided they would first ask H where they had read the story about Laura.
While Jin wrote the email, the coffee machine finished its auto-cleaning cycle and noisily started making coffee. Jin walked over to the dining table and caressed the coffee mug in their hand. The hot coffee mug felt unfamiliar against it. This happened sometimes. Ever since Jin had started to think about Laura, they thought incessantly about them, their life, how they sensed the world, and that made the most mundane senses feel alien sometimes. As Jin thought about the contrast between the heat in their palm and the cold air touching the back of their hands, they thought of Laura. And what kind of senses would fill Laura's life.
Laura said loving and understanding someone are not the same. Jin embarked on their long research journey because they couldn’t agree with that statement. That a part of Laura remained a complete mystery to Jin, and that Laura had absolutely no intention of explaining it, made Jin sad. Jin traveled across the world and met people who were similar to, but not quite like, Laura. Some were suspicious of Jin, some welcomed them, and others rejected them, but within these people Jin discovered distinct truths. So, for a moment, Jin thought they had almost understood Laura, that they had almost touched Laura’s complex inner world.
The Wrong Map begins with the dedication:
To L, who remains incomprehensible.
*
All humans have inherent maps of their bodies. Because humans have a proprioceptive sense of the body’s location and movement, it is possible to know where one’s arms and legs are, even when one isn’t conscious of them. Yet some people’s proprioception is misaligned. In other words, they possess a “wrong map” of their bodies.
Temporary conduction anesthesia can cause the loss of proprioception. People who’ve had such experiences say their bodies did not feel like their own, and in worse cases, felt as if their body and soul had been severed from each other. In many cases these are merely short-term side effects. However, for some, the sense of misalignment does not disappear. They feel immense discomfort in the fact of their body’s existence. These people feel that arms and legs which ostensibly appear fine in fact do not belong to them, or feel repulsed by their senses, such as their sense of sight or hearing. They want to align their physical bodies with their maps. And so some blind themselves, while others amputate their arms.
Jin’s first destination was Madrid. At a restaurant there, Jin met with a group of people who felt the desire to amputate parts of themselves. They had just started organizing as a collective, and some of them had been diagnosed with Body Identity Integration Disorder. They experienced the pain caused by the misalignment between their internal map and their material body. Some were content with using prosthetics to immobilize their body parts, but others were still searching across the globe for doctors who would perform the procedure they needed, namely, amputation.
“Do any other treatments exist?”
“What haven’t we tried? We’ve tried all sorts of therapy and psychiatric treatments. And we’ve tried thousands of different medications too. Very rarely, mirror therapy or simulation therapy was effective for some folks. Those of us who found that nothing worked created this group together. You’d sigh too if you heard of all the ridiculous things the doctors have tried to fix people like us.”
They gathered anecdotes from people like them and created a public website. The website attracted attention internationally, but immediately faced extensive criticism. People said members of the group needed immediate psychiatric treatment, and some disability rights organizations accused them of romanticizing physical disabilities. The website was temporarily shut down.
“We know it’s not easy to live without arms and legs. And yet, we can’t stand this terrible feeling of misalignment. We know we look bizarre, wanting to amputate arms and legs that appear completely fine. But between undergoing appropriate medical procedures in a safe environment, and prolonging constant mental torture based on false hope, which is more cruel? For decades we haven’t received proper treatment. If our symptoms worsened, we’d be institutionalized. Or we can try to find consolation in what others say: that one day we’ll find a cure for our mental illness. But what’s the point of talking about a cure that doesn’t even exist?”
The man who held a key position in the organization was adamant.
“We know people who died from infections they sustained while trying to amputate their legs on their own. There’s someone who succeeded in the amputation itself, but they still experience discomfort because they cut way lower than where they actually feel. I also know someone who blew their arm off with a gun, then went to the hospital and made detailed requests for where to amputate. Now, they are completely satisfied with their body. Unfortunately, these are the only options available to us at the moment.”
When someone in the conversation heard that Jin was writing a book, they introduced Jin to Haeyoon. Haeyoon was a rare case, having lost their proprioception completely. At first Jin contacted Haeyoon through email, but Haeyoon asked to video call because they couldn’t feel where their hands were, which made typing difficult. On the screen Haeyoon appeared to be well. But Haeyoon constantly glanced sideways during their conversation to check their body. Haeyoon said that if they didn’t, they felt anxious because they couldn’t tell whether their body was still there. Jin brought up the Madrid collective and asked Haeyoon’s opinion on amputation as a cure.
“That funny bunch put you in touch with me? They really are an amusing group of people. I understand how they feel. Sometimes I too hate the fact that I have a body that I can’t sense. But I’m not so sure about amputation. Think about my case. If something like amputation was the only solution to the problem, I would have no other choice than to die. Right? So, what can I possibly do?”
Haeyoon then laughed, and said they were joking.
“I do think about death quite often. But I still don’t know. To use your metaphor, they have distorted maps, and I have completely lost mine. You can’t compare us on the same scale since we are different.”
The World Transhuman Association had headquarters in Connecticut, USA, and was a group that aspired to overcome the limits of the human body. Their primary objective was to pass a freedom of augmentation bill in order to legalize bodily augmentation procedures. The association consisted of people who were modifying their bodies while just barely staying on the right side of the law.
The association’s president was a woman with impressively long ears that hung down to their shoulders.
“Right now, the regulations are unnecessarily strict. The justification behind the regulations is that treatment is acceptable but augmentation is not. But the distinction between treatment and enhancement has never been clear. Humans have always altered and modified their bodies. If they’re going to ban augmentation, they should also ban implants grafted onto perfectly fine bones, or vaccinations, too.”
The president was wearing gigantic regal ear piercings on their lobes, which made them look like royalty who had traveled through time, from an ancient civilization to the present.
“Members of our association are mostly interested in new senses. There’s a lot of interest in enhancing sight and hearing. One can currently obtain super-vision, which is double the average human’s, through existing procedures. But the absurd reality is that if you want to get approved for the procedure you have to prove that your eyesight has deteriorated. Inserting magnetic sensors in fingertips is also becoming popular. I didn’t get those because they seemed useless for everyday life, but the young ones say it’s a pretty entertaining sensor. Oh, and of course there are cases of body modification that alters the physical appearance. I’ve heard of a member who achieved an extremely straight and elegant posture by radically substituting parts of their bones and muscles with advanced materials. They have a really successful career as a model. Then there’s a lot of us who, like me, are also content with minor procedures when it comes to appearances.”
The transhumans were very enthusiastic about modifying and altering their bodies. They were doing the as much as they could, some to the extent that it wasn’t a threat to their lives, others by eagerly taking risks. Their goal was unwavering: to pursue better functionality, and to overcome limitations of current human bodies.
When Jin introduced the central idea of The Wrong Map to members of the Transhuman Association, most of them shook their heads.
“We’ve never felt like something was wrong with our bodies. If you want to include us as case studies in your book, I’m not sure we’d be the best fit. We do feel as though the body is hardly capacious enough to contain the human soul, which is so full of potential. What we’re trying to do is augment the body so that the soul’s potential can be fully unleashed.”
The transhumans were different from those suffering from Body Identity Integration Disorder. They were also different from patients suffering from post-accident phantom limb pain. The transhumans were people who, because they had no inhibitions about modifying their bodies, wanted to possess enhanced bodies through radical augmentation.
As the conversation petered out, Jin asked a question.
“Then how do you feel about attaching another arm? Wouldn’t that be another form of enhancement?”
“Well . . . There are times when I feel like I need another arm. Like when I’m trying to push open a heavy glass door with files in one hand and a coffee in the other . . . ”
The woman’s answer was nonchalant, as if Jin had asked them an odd question.
“But I normally don’t feel like two arms aren’t enough.”
*
Laura wanted a third arm.
Jin was twenty-one years old when they first met Laura. Jin was on their way home after working out at the university gym when they witnessed a part-timer, pushing a cart full of towels, walk right into a column. A startled crowd gathered around while Jin helped collect the towels scattered on the floor. The part-timer, who seemed spaced out even during the whole commotion, was Laura. Laura thanked Jin, saying that without Jin’s help they would’ve been late to their evening tutoring job, and promised to buy Jin coffee sometime. At that point, all Jin felt for Laura was a bit of curiosity and a small crush. It was during their next meeting at a cafe when things changed. Laura, who insisted on carrying the coffee tray, suddenly lost their balance and fell to the floor, even though there was nothing that could have caused the fall. Panicking, Jin ran over to Laura, whose clothes were ruined by coffee stains. Jin would never forget the face Laura made in that moment.
It wasn’t the typical face one might make after spilling coffee, flustered or self-reproachful or annoyed or embarrassed. Laura’s face held an odd mix of resignation and indifference. It was a face that read: oh well.
When Laura’s eyes met Jin’s, their expression changed. Laura smiled.
“Seems like I’ll be left with a pretty cool stain even after dry cleaning. Anyways, the coffee here smells great. Can I buy you another one next time?”
Jin thought Laura was overly optimistic, which wasn’t entirely wrong. And yet, because Jin became infatuated with Laura so quickly, it didn't occur to Jin that Laura may have an unsolvable problem. Jin only realized Laura’s problem much later, though looking back, there had been signs from the very beginning.
Laura would randomly raise both of their arms, or abruptly stop in front of a store they were about to enter, or use a fork with one hand while trying to block it with another. Jin thought such behavior simply reflected Laura’s kookiness. Laura would also run into things, trip over, or scratch themself a little too often to simply call it carelessness. But Laura was never that upset, even when they got injured. One time Jin saw an alarming number of cuts covering Laura’s right arm, so they suspected Laura was self-harming. When Jin carefully asked Laura if they were okay, Laura’s response was nonchalant.
“I was in a big accident when I was a kid. Maybe it’s the accident’s aftereffects, but sometimes I feel as though my body is being completely drained of energy. Like when you let go of a taut rubber band. But it’s not that serious. It’s a small bother, one anyone could have.”
At thirty, Laura quit their job and started working as a freelance designer. Back then Jin merely thought it was a relief that Laura could work from home, that it would be a bit more comfortable for Laura than commuting everyday.
The following year, almost ten years since Jin had met Laura, Laura brought up the subject for the first time.
“I have a third arm. And I’m going to actually attach it to my body.”
Laura said that since the accident they were in at the age of twelve, they started to feel severe pain in a third arm that didn’t exist. It was common for accident survivors to feel phantom limb pain after amputation, but because Laura was feeling pain in an excess limb that didn’t even exist, no amount of rehabilitation therapy worked. The only treatment that worked for Laura was virtual reality simulation therapy. A neurologist suggested the treatment around the time Laura turned twenty. Simulation therapy was way more successful than they’d anticipated, and it significantly reduced the amount of pain Laura felt in the third arm. However, the sense of the third arm’s presence was heightened even further.
Jin could not understand Laura’s decision at all. If Laura was feeling false senses from the accident, then Laura should fix those false senses. How could appending a fake arm be the solution? In order to persuade Laura, Jin searched for new clinics and suggested Laura try therapy at a a different hospital.
Because Jin was so shaken up and determined to talk Laura out of it, Laura seemed to follow Jin’s suggestions for a while. Instead of bringing up the subject of attaching the third arm, Laura obediently went to the clinic as Jin insisted. Every night Jin would tell Laura that they could get better, that everything would be okay, that they shouldn’t give up easily.
Laura’s lies didn’t last long. A few months later, Laura made an announcement.
“Jin, I booked my surgery for next week.”
Laura said they had been preparing for a mechanical arm transplant for years. First, Laura needed to prove through tedious paperwork that the procedure was not for bodily augmentation or modification based on personal preference, but in fact was medical treatment for their misalignment symptoms. Then, based on the third arm they felt, Laura designed the arm’s exterior and constructed the mechanical arm while consulting prosthetic limb specialists. One of the production stages included Laura's trying on the assembled arm and moving around while minute adjustments were made. Laura told their family about their decision to get a transplant right before the procedure, which would connect the arm with Laura’s nerves and muscles. Jin was the last person Laura told. Jin couldn’t accept that their lover experienced confusion over an arm that didn’t exist, or that their conclusion was to append a new arm rather than fix their brain. Above all, what Jin found the most difficult to accept was that Laura, without any discussion, had made the decision all by themself and had simply notified Jin.
“They approved that nonsensical procedure?”
“Yes. It wasn’t easy, because the surgery made no sense. I’ve documented my brain for the past ten years. Jin, look at this. This is the map inside my brain.”
Black-and-white brain scans and doctors’ medical notes filled the documents Laura handed over. Despite their exhaustive efforts, Laura had all this time felt their third arm’s presence vividly. Laura’s brain couldn’t be fixed, no matter what. The wrong map had already consumed their life completely.
“See, even now I feel as though that arm is touching you. When we hug, I use my third hand to caress your cheek. But whenever I realize it doesn’t materially exist, I feel like an interstitial being. Jin, it’s not like I haven’t thought of your feelings. I do think that if I were you, this would be difficult to accept.”
Laura continued as Jin remained silent.
“If you leave me, I’ll be very sad. Loving you makes me happy. But that doesn’t mean I can give up becoming me. I’ve risked my whole life for this adventure, for becoming myself. I wish you’d support me. And if you can’t . . . ”
Laura paused, and gazed at Jin for a long time. Then they said, “It doesn’t matter. I cannot not do this.”
*
What tormented Jin the most was the fact that Laura never wanted to be understood. Laura kept their excess limb solely a personal issue, did not tell Jin about their third arm for a long time, and only notified Jin right before having the mechanical arm attached. Through Laura’s behavior, Jin realized that Laura may have never expected any understanding from the very beginning. Perhaps it was that anguish that had led Jin to write The Wrong Map. Writing was the way Jin understood others, and Jin wanted to know Laura’s innermost thoughts.
Jin conducted a literature review while collecting books and scholarly articles, and interviewed people they were introduced to through acquaintances. If they said yes, Jean would travel anywhere in the world to interview their subject. During one and a half years of research, Jin met dozens of people who shared similarities with Laura. Those with body identity disorder were like Laura in the sense that they tried to fix the misalignment between their internal wrong map and physical body through modifications. Meanwhile, the transhumans were similar to Laura in the sense that they weren’t taking anything away from the body, but rather adding something to it. Yet none of them were exactly like Laura.
Only one of the cases included in The Wrong Map was comparable to Laura’s. An elderly person who responded to Jin’s interview request said that it was all in the past, long gone. They had started to feel symptoms in their mid-fifties, after they collapsed from a stroke, and for two weeks they had felt as though there was another arm moving from their left side of their waist. However, the elder said that as a result of prolonged rehabilitation they now no longer felt that sense and only felt an occasional itch where the other arm used to be. While there were a few cases recorded in the literature, cases like Laura’s, where people experienced excess limbs, were extremely rare. In most cases, as with the elder, the symptoms were complications from brain lesions. Unlike in Laura’s case, these symptoms did not include experiencing the concrete presence of an arm, and when other functional impairments were treated, the phantom limb disappeared as well.
Jin found a decade-old article that used functional MRI to research excess limbs, and requested an interview. The corresponding author replied saying they couldn’t share the research subject’s private information, and that they had not found any new cases since. The only researcher who responded to Jin was also skeptical about the research’s findings.
“I did participate in the study. I was responsible for analyzing the images. But I never encountered another patient who had the same symptoms. Occasionally, STEM research can be like that. There are unique phenomena that are observed once, never to reappear. I wonder if we should call such phenomena nature’s temporary errors . . . Out of interest, did you have a specific case in mind?”
It’s true that Jin wavered for a second. The researcher would have been able to explain Laura’s situation to the extent of their scientific knowledge. But, in the end, Jin didn’t mention Laura. Or that Laura had finally materialized their phantom limb.
Jin often thought about a metaphor Laura had used.
“Imagine that the architect of your permanent home handed you the blueprint of the house. ‘This is your house.’ On the blueprint there is, without a doubt, a large room. It’s an amazing room with a huge window that lets in plenty of sunlight, and you could place a desk on one side of the room and use it as a study. But when you look for the room in real life, it doesn’t exist. My reality is just this small cramped living room. The architect who handed me the blueprint laughs at me: ‘Look carefully. The room really is there.’ Are they making fun of me? Am I delusional? Every day of my life I become more desperate for that fictional room, so why can't I find it? Is there something covering my eyes? Who is at fault—me, the house, or the blueprint I received in the first place?”
Jin knew that from time to time Laura felt depressed by the fact that no one could understand them. Jin wanted to be the one—the singular being who understood Laura. While writing The Wrong Map Jin learned to accept, intellectually, the phenomenon Laura experienced and the pain inherent in Laura’s body. Yet it was like memorizing a phrase from a textbook, or mechanically copying down a formula that was constantly slipping away from true comprehension.
“Jin, when I think of how you did all that, I feel both happy and sad. People might write essays and read books and strain their imagination in order to understand someone else, but rarely would anyone travel the whole world to finish a book the way you did. I too know that.”
Laura smiled, then said: “But one thing should be clear. You went on that journey not for me, but for yourself.”
*
In their second email, H said they had read an essay Jin had published in a magazine as a university student. Only then did Jin remember what they had written at the time. It was a lighthearted essay on love and relationships, about how Jin was worried for their lover, who was clumsy and got injured easily, and how they loved them nonetheless. Jin recalled how, when Jin showed Laura the essay, they laughed and said, “You really do write about everything.” But had Jin known that these qualities of Laura’s were rooted in the feeling of bodily misalignment, would Jin still have found them simply endearing?
Now I’ll try to explain the real reason I wrote to you. Jin, I am like you. A person very close to me wants to rectify their body. And they’re headed toward an undeniably horrible end. I’m anxious and afraid. I’m afraid of losing them, but more than anything, I’m afraid that I’ll never understand them and won’t be able to love them anymore.
This person could be H’s lover, or family. H was confused as to whether they would be able to still love the person and their modified body, whether it was morally right if H found the other person’s new body to be grotesque, and how H might accept their changes.
But, Jin, you too probably know this. We can’t convince them otherwise. We can’t understand them either. All we can do is . . . just wait. For the change that will inevitably happen.
Then what is it that we can possibly do?
Jin understood how lost and confused H felt. A few years had passed already, but whenever Jin saw Laura’s third arm, they still felt uneasy and pained.
Would things have been different if Laura had been able to manage their third arm seamlessly? Laura did not adapt well. The third arm was adjoined to the nerves and muscles around Laura’s right shoulder, and it was unclear whether Laura was unable to operate that arm properly because they had appended a body part that never existed in humans, or because the arm had been acquired.
A grotesque scar formed on the artificial skin that covered the synapse, and discharge oozed out quite often. Because Laura had to wipe off the discharge frequently, they eventually removed about half of the artificial skin. Laura wasn’t happy with how the mechanical arm looked. They often lost balance due to the heavy third arm and suffered from infections. Over time, even the functionality of the arms they were born with deteriorated. The doctor recommended detaching the mechanical arm.
Laura did not. Laura said they would live with their third arm. They said that was the reality, the best they could do in present conditions.
For Laura, the third arm was neither an augmentation nor an enhancement. It was a maiming of the body, a choice to willingly acquire a defect. Jin had embarked on such a long journey because they wanted to understand even a fraction of the reason why some people would choose a defect.
Jin sipped the now-lukewarm coffee and began to finish their reply.
Dear H, I’m not quite sure if I can help you. You probably will try to convince the other person no matter what I say, and the other person will make their decision regardless. Then you’ll feel confused and think that you need to make some sort of a resolution as well. What I want to tell you now is that you don’t necessarily have to.
To be honest, I still feel confused, like you. And that will probably never come to an end, even in the future. You see, only now after my journey has ended and so much time has passed do I understand that there was never an answer anywhere. After your first email, I felt a need to meet Laura.
Yesterday I met Laura for the first time in almost two months. After Laura attached their mechanical arm, we fell into a cycle of breaking up and getting back together. I won’t say all of that happened because of Laura’s arm. The arm was just another event that confirmed there was a chasm between us, one that we could never close.
When I said I’d come to them because I couldn’t wait anymore, Laura smiled, as if saying “I told you so.” Then, Laura tightly embraced me with the third arm.
The arm was cold, rigid, and still reeked of oil. Because Laura couldn’t control their strength, some arm parts jabbed my shoulder, while the exposed artificial muscles brushed against my cheek. It was a texture I could never get used to, no matter how many times we hugged. Laura would always include their third arm in our hugs, even though they knew full well that I felt uncomfortable. This time was no different.
When our eyes met, Laura smiled with a mischievous grin. At that very moment I knew that I still loved Laura. And at the same time I realized that I wouldn’t be able to understand Laura, not in the future, maybe never.
But realizing that didn’t feel bad at all.
Don’t you also have things you love that you can never understand?
When Jin had just finished the last sentence, the doorbell rang.
Through the transparent curtains Jin saw cascading sunlight and a meandering silhouette. Behind the curtain someone was standing in front of the door, their back to the summer garden.
Mechanical arm drawing a straight line from the right shoulder, stiff movements, a shadow slanted. Sunlight shimmered across the silver surface.
Laura was there. Laura, who would always remain incomprehensible to Jin.
