Zero and Other Fictions

by Huang Fan

  19

  The following day, Xi De said good-bye to the assistant director and his wife, boarded a boat, crossed the lake, which was mirror-smooth, and returned to the Administrative District on the opposite shore. He stopped by the office, exchanged a few words with his colleagues, and then returned to the dormitory.

  It was a row of five-story buildings closely neighboring the administrative buildings. He lived on the fourth floor and could see a corner of the lake from his window, as well as the swimming pool and tennis court below. There was no one in the swimming pool at the moment; a life preserver floated on the blue water. Similarly, the tennis court was empty save for someone apparently repairing the net. Xi De’s gaze rested on the man for a moment. Stepping away from the window, he took off his jacket. It was a bright spring morning and his room was a little stuffy. He turned on the air conditioner, opened the refrigerator, and poured himself a glass of juice. He sat down on the sofa to quietly wait for dusk to arrive.

  People in the Administrative District got off work at three, by which time the public facilities would be crowded, the sound of laughter echoing amid the horseshoe-shaped buildings and floating in through his window.

  Xi De shifted his position on the couch till he was almost horizontal. His head still ached from the revelries of the previous night. What was the Factory District really like? What kind of people really lived there? He thought of stout Ke Ke, the police officer, the dancing girls, and the street musicians and wondered what they were really doing. They were certainly not the well-behaved, obedient citizens who arrived at work on time like in books or as reported by the Central News. They fought, schemed, gambled, and engaged in shady business. Perhaps that was what Lin Xing meant by “the world outside.” He wondered how Lin Xing was doing. Then he thought of Zhen and his previous pain began to subside. Time was a strange thing. Zhen had gradually receded behind the gauze curtain of a dream and now, standing on this side of the curtain, he saw a whole, sharply different world appear before him. He was no longer that docile, knock-kneed graduate of Central Academy sitting at his desk, but rather a mature and worldly adult. More precisely, he had begun to understand the world outside of textbooks and television. But what was the nature of his understanding?

  Xi De lay down on the couch and closed his eyes. At that moment, he heard the sound of young people shouting outside. A few minutes later the shouts rose one after another, mixed with the sound of people diving into water.

  Xi De continued his train of thought. According to the description in the first chapter of his civics textbook, the new society was the most advanced and perfect society in the history of human civilization. In this society, everyone received the education best suited to their IQ and disposition and was given the fairest and most reasonable opportunities for work. At the same time, they also enjoyed sufficient material reward and hopes for promotion permitted by their class. Administrators in Central City, for example, had the best work environment, the most reasonable work hours, the material comforts befitting their status, and an annual vacation to blow off any excess energy. In the industrial cities, the material comforts were the same; the difference was the quality. Of course, that difference was an effective stimulus for the lower classes to improve themselves. But what about in terms of the spirit? The new society did not necessarily discount the importance of spiritual satisfaction, but it did reject all abstract metaphysical notions. But in point of fact, most metaphysical notions were constructed out of a bunch of vague and obscure terms. Religion was a good example. If a deity could appear before men, then the new society would allow you your religious faith. But in thousands of years, no god had appeared outside the pages of a book, and not one of the books had been written by anyone other than ordinary, opinionated human beings. Therefore it was plain to see that spiritual satisfaction was not something transcendental, but could be obtained from love, marriage, appetite, sex, or human relationships.

  Although this was the case, why was it that the workers in the Industrial District could not find satisfaction within the order of the new society and continued to cling to the immaturity of humanity in the last century?

  An answer began to take shape for Xi De.

  “It was the basic nature of humanity.” This answer came like a shock. A perfect environment could not eliminate humanity’s innate flaws: greed, swindling, risk taking, and degeneration. Why? Why?

  The sound of the doorbell brought him back to himself. It was Lian Lian. Glowing with health, she was wearing a pair of shorts that revealed her long, healthy legs.

  “What are you up to, Xi De?”

  “I was just thinking.”

  “What’s there to think about? Come on, let’s go swimming.”

  “I’m not feeling well.”

  “Well,” said Lian Lian, becoming unhappy, “one trip to the Industrial District and you end up like this.”

  “Have you ever been there?”

  “No way, but I’ve heard all about that rotten place.”

  Rotten. That was the word! Lian Lian was right. The most perfect things were the most likely to become rotten.

  In half a century, as the world was approaching perfection, it had perhaps already started to rot at the roots.

  “Okay, Lian Lian, let’s go swimming.”

  When they got out of the swimming pool, his girlfriend said to him:

  “A friend of mine at the Electric Power Agency is having a cocktail party tonight. What do you say we go?”

  There was an endless series of small cocktail parties in the Administrative District; Xi De was already well accustomed to them. In Central City, such face-to-face encounters among people were no longer popular. Using the latest information technology, they could take part in all sorts of activities via the screens in their own living rooms. Xi De had once been a judge on a television game show without even knowing where the competition was held.

  “If you like,” said Xi De.

  It was a small party held by one of her girlfriends in the dorm. There were only eleven or twelve couples invited. After eating, they danced. Lian Lian seemed especially excited, her laughter resounding. A young man asked her to dance. She glanced at Xi De and he nodded and then sat in the corner to watch the men and women dancing in the living room.

  “She’s a real live wire,” said a middle-aged man sitting next to him.

  Xi De turned and politely smiled.

  “My name is Du Qun,” said the middle-aged man. “I work at the power distribution section.”

  “I’m Xi De.” They shook hands. “I’ve heard of you someplace.”

  “That’s impossible,” said the middle-aged man, looking somewhat startled.

  “Let me think,” said Xi De, racking his brain. “Right, it was from Professor Kang Zaoshi.”

  20

  Not long after the party, they ran into each other again at a regatta. It was a bright and clear Sunday. A large viewing stand had been erected on the shore of the lake between the Administrative District and the Factory District. High-spirited city residents were crowded in the shade of the trees and canopies. It was the annual regatta held by the Third Industrial City. Xi De sat with the officials from the Administrative District, watching with pleasure the opening ceremonies. The opening remarks were given by the head of administration, followed by remarks by highranking officials of Central City, including the head of the Department of Recreation in the Ministry of Education as well as several officials from the Ministry of Domestic Affairs. The regatta began after the speeches concluded. Colorful sailboats filled the lake amid the general uproar as the spectators swarmed along the shore. A number of those sitting next to Xi De leaped off the viewing stand. Soon only Xi De and several older officials remained.

  “Aren’t you going to go down to the lake and cheer?” asked Du Qun, suddenly appearing beside him.

  “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Du,” said Xi De, shaking hands with him. “I’m not one for noisy crowds.”

  “The same here,” he
said. “Who do you think will win?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “Last year the textile factory won. This year it’s hard to predict.”

  There was a moment of silence. Xi De looked toward the lake, but vaguely felt Du looking at him from the side.

  “Xi De,” the voice sounded as if it were coming from another world, “why were you sent to Industrial City?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” the voice said, returning to normal. “It’s strange. Central officials are rarely ever transferred to a lower level.”

  “My performance was poor.”

  Such a frank reply left Du Qun flustered.

  “Before me, my colleague Lin Xing was transferred to an agricultural city.”

  “Lin Xing. I’ve heard his name. His father was an interstellar spaceship commander.”

  “Interstellar ship?”

  “But his ship vanished year before last.”

  “Oh.” That explains things, thought Xi De. “Why did it vanish? Did they ever find out why?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “There are a lot of things we don’t need to know.”

  After that, Du often visited Xi De at his place. They talked about things at the academy and in Central City. Sometimes they spent all night talking. Xi De strangely felt that Du was trying to probe his innermost thoughts. Du took great pains to find out everything about his relationship with the old professor. Du told Xi De that he had looked at the old professor’s antiques and had listened to him talk about history, but he felt that the professor harbored many secrets he would never tell anyone else. On this point, Xi De smiled and said nothing.

  One evening, Du Qun told him his own life story:

  “My parents, like yours, were both farmers, but they died early. At six I entered the Superior Academy, where I studied electrical engineering. I made it to the fifteenth level. That was thirty years ago. In those days, the new society was still a little chaotic, so the school administration was a tad stricter with us, allowing us to go home only once every three months. Since my parents had passed away a long time ago, I stayed at school, unable to understand the changes going on outside. Occasionally I’d hear something from one of my classmates. In those days, the mass media consisted of television and newspapers. For some reason I never understood, the authorities shut down the papers and thereby completely controlled the news. You could only see the most ‘constructive’ reports. But from my classmates, I learned that some massive purge was getting under way outside. Later, the professor told me he’d had a similar experience—the purge made it to the school and a number of classmates and professors disappeared, without it ever being thoroughly investigated. In this way, I quietly finished my course of study at the academy. After graduating, I began working at the Department of Electrical Engineering in the Ministry of Industry. I got to know Professor Kang not so much because I was interested in history, but rather because during vacations when all the other students had gone home, I stayed alone on campus with no place to go, and the old professor was always alone as well.”

  When Du Qun finished his story, he looked at Xi De as if waiting for him to ask him something.

  “Then how did you come to be sent to Industrial City?” Xi De couldn’t help asking.

  “That’s a long story.…”

  At that moment, Lian Lian came in, interrupting their conversation. She told Xi De that someone was holding a party and that she hoped Du could go with them. Finally the three of them left Xi De’s place and went to another building.

  Since there were so many people at the party, all they did was drink. By the end of the party, Lian Lian was thoroughly drunk. Xi De took her home before returning to his own place, where he discovered Du waiting at his door.

  “Didn’t get enough to drink, right?” said Du, patting him on the shoulder. “Why not come to my place? I have some green liquor.”

  Perhaps Xi De had not had enough to drink, or that bottle of green liquor was pretty tempting; at any rate, they set off for Du’s place.

  Du lived in an old-style two-story building down a side lane. It was damp and dark. Du explained that everyone else had moved to a new high-rise with the latest electrical facilities on the main street. But he was used to everything in the old building and was able to prevent it from being torn down after quite a bit of running around.

  Du showed Xi De every room; there were a number of appliances Xi De had never seen. They paused at one garret where a thick, fleecy lambskin rug was spread on the floor. It was furnished with a bed, two bookcases, and a rocking chair. Du turned on an old table lamp; the yellowish light seemed to send the room back in time several decades.

  “Where’d you get all the books?” asked Xi De.

  “I found them in a cellar,” said Du, sitting down in the rocking chair. “Let’s have a drink. This green liquor was smuggled in from Central City.”

  They clinked glasses in a toast. Xi De took a sip and, holding his glass, walked over to the bookcases.

  “These books were all printed thirty or forty years ago, when there was still a publishing industry. With the exception of a few light novels, they’re all books of specialized knowledge. They’ve all been digitized and are nothing special.”

  “Is this where you kill time?”

  “I don’t have much interest in computer games. Sometimes I’ll go to a party to see people.” Du continued, “Didn’t you ask me why I was sent to Industrial City?”

  “If you don’t feel like telling …”

  “It’s all right,” he said, lifting his glass. “It’s a lot better than it used to be. People can talk freely, but there are fewer and fewer things to talk about. There’ll come a day when people in different professions won’t be able to talk to each other.”

  “That’s quite possible,” said Xi De, in total agreement.

  “This is how it happened. After graduating from the academy, I, like all other young people, both indecisively and with some aspirations, went to work for the Ministry of Industry. At that time, the Minister of Industry was Mo Zhao. He was the youngest minister, and the reason I mention him is that he is entirely responsible for having me sent here. At that time, the new society was slowly beginning to regain some calm after the second purge and starting to come to order. A lot of opportunities awaited progressive young people. The first regional committee members had already served 30 or 40 years and they were all utterly senile. Under those circumstances, the demand for new elections was becoming more vocal. Young people like us, who had just graduated, were filled with enthusiasm and eager to do things. For this reason we were 100 percent behind Mo Zhao, who was barely 40 years old then, and we were ready to shed our blood and lay down our lives for him. This went on for three years until the shocking news that Max Kristen, the chairman of the Central Committee, had only recently passed away after having lived to the ripe old age of 100. Not long thereafter, the second chairman, Ge Tingguang, who succeeded Max Kristen, issued an order demanding that new elections be held for the ten regional committees, and any committee member over 80 had to retire. The regional committee elections weren’t entirely democratic because the middle and lower classes didn’t really understand anything about the administrative class, so the right to vote was given to the various department cadres. With our vigorous support,

  Mo Zhao was easily elected to the regional committee and was the youngest committee member.”

  Xi De was fascinated by all this. Twenty years later, Mo Zhao had become the chairman of the regional committee and a member of the central committee. His picture hung in every meeting room in Central City. But no one knew anything about his past. In the new society, the regional committees had the highest policy-making authority. Although the members had absolute authority, they withdrew behind the scenes. They did not need to have any contact with the people, and through a vast network of computers they controlled every department. Occasionally they would address the people via th
eir television screens. So Chairman Mo Zhao actually did have a past.

  “After Mo Zhao was easily elected, those of us who supported him all received some benefit. I became the head of the Department of Electrical Engineering under the Ministry of Industry and was in charge of the electricity of three cities. At that time I was really an arrogant young man. Mo Zhao often saw us in his official residence, but such circumstances couldn’t continue for long. He realized that he didn’t really have to meet with the various departments in person; all he had to do was issue his commands via computer. Thus, Mo Zhao seemed to vanish from before us. When he wanted to issue an order or hear a report, a computer set up in our homes would beep. Onscreen, Mo Zhao was always dressed the same and maintained the same expression. As far as I can determine, his appearance onscreen hasn’t changed in the slightest in over twenty years. Now let me repeat what I said before. I can say that my rise to department head was a matter of high spirits and a bright future. What’s more, the following year, I took my first vacation. The Bureau of Character Readjustment under the Ministry of Education had just been established, and I was among the first group of officials to go on vacation. My destination was New City, Australia. Have you heard of it?”

  Xi De shook his head. He also noticed how Du’s eyes seemed to shine.

  “New City is an enchanting place, and I’ll never forget it for as long as I live, because that’s where I met Liana. Liana, my goddess! Liana, my dream! Her purity, her beauty, her frown, her smile, still appear today in my dreams. During the month we were together, our souls grew closer by the day. The harmony that increased by the day ultimately reached an indescribable stage. My one-month vacation passed quickly. I couldn’t bear to return to Central City. After returning, I spent every day trying to realize my fervent hope of regaining Liana. I pleaded with everyone who might have some influence, especially those in the Ministry of Education. In those days the doors were not as tightly shut as they are today. But all to no avail. Finally, I had no choice but to ask Mo Zhao, which I did one day after he contacted me via computer about an electrical matter. The moment he appeared, I cried and pleaded with him to intercede on my behalf. At the time, he seemed genuinely moved. I saw him nod, and then the screen went blank.”