Or a slick 53-page media guide deconstructing "every aspect of the closing ceremony of the XXIX Olympiad -- both protocol and creative -- that might be of interest and relevant to the public", chock full of factoids like 20 tons of steel were used to construct the "Memory Tower" or the electricity load totaled 10,500 kw or a year of rehearsals took place in a 1,750-square-meter temporary gym? The only thing missing was a slide rule.

This is a country where eight of nine of the country's most powerful men -- the men who make up the communist party's Politburo standing committee -- are trained as engineers. Sure, the opening and closing ceremonies were both the brainchild of famed film director Zhang Yimou, whose ability to mesmerize movie audiences is well-known. But in tonight's case the script was about a resurgent, rising China -- and its mandarins are celebrating every twinkling light and length of electrical cable that powered their achievements (which, in the case of the closing ceremony, was 2,583 and 160 kilometers, respectively).

And now they're one happy bunch of engineers. Despite a number of tragedies and disappointments, the Games were perceived by Chinese and overseas participants alike to have been a sporting and organizational success, enhanced by the magnificent venues that have made the Bird's Nest and Water Cube familiar around the world. Human rights monitors had warned that the Games would be marred by massive rights violations -- and in fact a number did take place, as we have blogged on earlier.

But on this balmy (and not even that polluted) Beijing night, in this place, with this relaxed and cheering crowd, the main violations that spectators witnessed were the systematic defiance of the laws of gravity. Limber spacemen emblazoned with what looked like white Christmas-light strips on their helmets and suits were slowly raised and lowered on invisible wires as they executed lazy mid-air back flips or froze in athletic poses like lit-up glowing man-sized arachnids -- Charlotte's Web on acid. Performers in red fluorescent leotards attached to the end of six-meter-long "rotating poles" soared and swiveled in seesaw arcs, as phalanxes of Day-glo performers -- wearing gimmicky extreme sports' "bounce shoes" -- bounded high above the ground like alien kangaroos.

For those who were feeling a bit blinded by all those kilowatts of costume lighting, something of a respite came when it was time for London, host of the 2012 Games, to put on its own 8-minute show. (Remember when 7 used to be a lucky number? That's all different now -- like so many other things that have changed inexorably due to China's rise.  Look out, world, now it's 8.)

A shift in mood and iconography was signaled by the appearance of an old-fashioned British double-decker bus rolling slowly into the arena. The London chapter in the media guide began to sound like it was shaped less by engineers and more by your normal public relations message-meisters: "We demonstrate why London remains the coolest place on the planet."

Then the crowd gasped as the bus suddenly peeled itself back -- al la Transformers -- to reveal a rising stage that featured singing star Leona Lewis and iconic Led Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page doing "Whole Lotta Love" followed by football super-celebrity David Beckham kicking a soccer ball into the audience to the adulation of screaming fans. Along the way, dancers holding large umbrellas pranced around the bus.

Just when you began to wonder if that self-deprecating gesture towards London's weather was a bit too mundane, suddenly the opened brollies transformed into a phalanx of  LED lights flashing colors and symbols in a sychrony that even China's Politburo would have been proud to have wired.

All in all, it was a glittering finale to Beijing's big show (and we have yet to discover the manipulative wizardry behind the scenes, like the lip-synching and CGI effects of the opening ceremony). To those who have portrayed the Games' visual extravaganzas as Hitleresque in proportion and impact, I say this: tonight in the Bird's Nest it didn't feel like Springtime for the Politburo, but more like a triumph of the techno-geeks.