by Chen Qiufan
Not even feng shui can save you now.
Scott watched as the water level rose in Silicon Isle Town. Many awakened from their slumber and discovered that the flood was already in their homes: beds were submerged; wires sparkled as they short-circuited; the network was cut off and there was no way to call for help; the terrified cries of babies interwove with the barking of dogs; waterlogged houses collapsed under the buffeting gales, crashing into the flood. Outside, the cold rain continued without any sign of letting up.
Some never even got the chance to wake up.
Like a statue, Scott stood transfixed in place. The faint beam of the lighthouse swept by, chiseling his sharp features with light and shadows. Subconsciously, he reached into his waterproof pack to search for the two gifts from Coltsfoot Blossom and only felt a sense of relief as his fingers touched the hard material. A pale blue tongue of flame leapt up from the apex of the tallest building in Silicon Isle, and the light from the dissipating arc lit up a struggling figure not too far away from Scott.
St. Elmo’s fire. Scott focused on the figure and smirked coldly. It was Luo Jincheng.
Scott took note of all the available routes. He wasn’t going to make the same stupid mistake that Luo Jincheng was making now. Like some dog who had had enough of terror, Luo was irrationally aiming straight for home.
Scott, who was standing at the highest vantage point, saw that the road Luo was on would soon run into the most turbulent of waters.
18
“It’s flooding!”
Mimi sat on the ground, leaning against the side of the bed. Next to her was the equally weak, half-kneeling Kaizong, who squeezed her cold, shivering hands. From the earpieces of the augmented-reality glasses came a cacophony of conversation carried by the temporary waste-people satellite network built by Anarchy.Cloud.
“This is divine justice!” “Absolutely. I hope they all drown.” “Let’s go watch them die.” “… watch them die…” “… watch … die…” “… die…” “..….”
The noisy talk, filled with increasing anger, beat against her eardrums. The voices overlaid each other, interfered with each other, and mixed into a violent piece of rumbling atonal music. Suddenly, a girl’s voice broke in like a silver needle striking ground, and all the other voices became silent.
“But the ambulances won’t be able to get here either,” the girl said.
The minority, who had held their tongues earlier, now cautiously voiced their opinions.
“All the police have been diverted to Shantou to chase down the escaped prisoners and to rescue car-accident victims.”
“We are responsible.”
No one spoke. No one wanted to admit to being a murderer, even if only indirectly.
“This is a natural disaster that no one could have predicted. We’re not at fault.”
“If we just stand by and watch them die, how is it any different from killing them?”
“The difference is whether there’s blood on your hands, you idiot!”
“The blood has already stained your name and soaked into your soul. Your children will be disgraced as the progeny of murderers.”
“Our children will suffer no matter what. Don’t forget, we’re waste people.”
“But we can’t view ourselves as waste people! We’re human beings. People! No different from them.”
“Shut the fuck up! If you want to go die yourself, no one’s stopping you. But spare me your fucking moral lectures.”
“Have you forgotten how the Luo clan tried to kill us? And you want to go rescue these animals, these scum?”
“Listen to yourself! That’s what I call real waste. You can’t even tell the difference between the Luo clan and Silicon Isle.”
Mimi’s face was bloodless. The unceasing demands of her excessive energy consumption had forced her to the edge of total collapse. The self-injector forced the last few drops of fructose into her veins. She didn’t even have the energy to raise her voice.
“Stop.” She whispered softly. “All of you, shut up.”
All the sharp, crude, hesitant voices vanished.
“Do you remember what it was like in Shantou? No one argued; no one doubted. All of you made a decision together in the briefest of moments and chose a single direction for the collective. I don’t know if that choice was right or wrong, but I think all of you had accepted that decision and its consequences…”
Are you sure about this? Mimi 0 asked. Sepia scenes flashed through her mind: the disdainful looks from Silicon Isle natives; the waste people timorously kneeling at their feet; the abuse by Knifeboy; the cruel, cold face of Luo Jincheng. She shuddered, and a physiological disgust dissolved into her blood along with the chemicals. It was beyond rage.
Unless you have a better solution, Mimi 1 replied. I know you don’t want to save them.
If you give the order, they will save them. They worship you like a goddess, Mimi 0 spat out. All those brothers and sisters who have bled and died to protect my life—their limbs and bodies are still lying out there in the mud and the rain and the wind like a pile of trash. I haven’t even had a chance to record their names. And yet, here we’re already discussing whether to save the families of the murderers.
That is not my style. Mimi 1 chuckled coldly. Mimi 0’s scalp tightened. Don’t forget, a goddess always has two faces.
What is the point of all this? You killed them, and now you want to save them? Mimi 0’s emotions grew more turbulent, consuming even more energy. The edges of her vision began to deform, blur, and faint pink cracks appeared.
It’s not me, my dear; it’s them. Mimi 1 seemed to shake her head, or perhaps the world swayed before her eyes. If you stand at a high enough vantage point, you’ll see that I’m not only saving the Silicon Isle natives, but also the waste people.
“Now, let’s choose.”
A gray circle appeared in Mimi’s vision, and two pie-slice shapes, one red and one blue, appeared in the circle. Both slices gradually grew in area. It was hard to tell which was bigger. Finally, the two slices, now each a semicircle, touched. The dividing line trembled as though the two sides were engaged in a vicious fight. As everyone waited for the final decision, the blue half jumped slightly and ate away a thin wedge of the red portion.
“We’ll save them,” Mimi announced. A cheer went up in her ears, mixed with some scattered complaints. Yet, she could distinctly hear that the complainers were also relieved and let out a held breath. Now, any further excuses would be stumbling blocks for the collective, and all plans and acts would be highly efficient. This was the decision of all.
The waste people organized themselves. Pieces of low-density silicone rubber waste were tied together into rescue rafts; bundles of plastic fiber were twisted into safety cables; translucent, impermeable artificial skin and LED bulbs were turned into emergency lights. The waste people divided into groups and followed the main thoroughfares of Silicon Isle Town to search for trapped survivors, directing them to places of refuge or high points, away from the turbulent eddies and undercurrents, and keeping in constant contact with them through augmented-reality glasses. They also hoped to find an open path so that the hospital’s ambulances could get to Nansha Village, where dozens of severely wounded waste people needed medical attention.
Only Li Wen remained where he was, his face stiff as iron. His hatred for the Silicon Isle natives was so deep that a simple vote could not change his mind.
“Brother Wen,” Mimi called to him. “I know there’s something in your heart that will not let you go.
“But we’re not only saving lives; we’re also going to open the eyes of the souls of the Silicon Isle natives. If we allow ourselves to be filled with hatred, then they’ve won. We have to show them that we’re not polluting waste or parasitic animals. We’re human, the same as them. We laugh, we cry, we pity, we sympathize. We can even risk our lives to rescue them. We must extend our hand and see how the Silicon Isle natives respond.”
The corners of
Li Wen’s mouth spasmed, as though he was struggling to hold his emotions in check. He croaked, “They killed my sister.”
“I know. I’ve always known.” Mimi put her hand on the trembling shoulders of the man. “You saved a copy of that video in your glasses. You hid it in the deepest part of the root directory and encrypted it so that you wouldn’t have to be reminded of it—”
“But I haven’t been able to forget it for even a second.” Li Wen’s lips trembled violently, and tears spilled from his eyes.
“Shhh, shhhh.” Mimi cradled his head and caressed him as though comforting a baby. She put her lips next to Li Wen’s ear and whispered, “I understand. I know everything. It’s too late for your sister. But you still have a chance to ensure that no one else’s sister or children will suffer the same fate. If you can accomplish that, do you think you’ll finally feel free?”
Li Wen lifted his tear-filled eyes and stared at Mimi, unwilling to look away for even a second.
“Go find the mecha. It’s guarding the answer you seek,” said Mimi. “You can now control it directly.”
* * *
Kaizong watched Mimi muttering into the empty air. Although he couldn’t see what she was seeing or hear what she was hearing, based on snippets he heard from her, he could deduce how things were going. Kaizong’s feelings were mixed. He wasn’t sure if he should be pleased by this hint of a dawn of reconciliation or be pained by its late arrival and the heavy price that had been paid.
He watched as Li Wen let go and sobbed, and then watched as Mimi prayed softly like the Virgin Mary and put the augmented-reality glasses on Li Wen. He could see the images in the glasses faintly reflected on Li Wen’s face. Gradually, Li Wen’s body stiffened, as though he had seen the face of Medusa and been turned to stone.
Mimi whispered into Li Wen’s ear again. Li got up and rushed out of the door into the falling rain.
“What did he see?” Kaizong asked. “What made him so mad?”
Mimi, who had recovered a bit of color, looked at Kaizong and lightly brushed her fingers over his right eye. He closed the eye instinctively, enjoying the gentle, loving touch.
“You’ll see,” Mimi said softly, “with the best eye.”
A harsh white light exploded in front of Kaizong’s right eye, soon radiating into colorful rays. The colors were so rich and varied that they exceeded the sum of all his previous visual experiences. The colorful rays seemed to emerge from some infinitely distant point at the center of his visual field and shot at him, causing him to experience the vertigo associated with high-speed flight. In another moment, the rays stopped, reversed direction, and gathered at the center, where they formed into a cone of light whose tip was pointed straight at his eye, as if intending to stab into his pupil until infinity had been embedded in his skull.
The world in Kaizong’s eye expanded at an unbelievable rate. Everything was going to retreat into the distance, was going to be millions of light-years away. His consciousness condensed into a tiny speck of interstellar dust drifting in boundless space-time. A feeling of grandeur exceeding the experiences of all known life held him. It was so sacred, so sublime, but without the slightest hint of oppression or fear; it was like returning to some warm source, the womb that preceded the eons, the origin of the universe. A deity that he had never worshiped.
He wanted to cry, but he could not. Every inch of his skin seemed to have been freed from the control of the autonomous nervous system and trembled continuously.
The light cone dissolved, and the colorful rays shrank into dots that, like fog or sand, struck his artificial retina, inciting billions of dense, tiny, rainbow-hued ripples. The dots of light did not stop. They traversed his optic nerves and attempted to pierce into his cortex. Kaizong felt spasms of slight pain, like the experience of ejaculation, accompanied by a pleasure that could not be denied. Subconsciously, he wanted to cover his eye with his hand to evade this sense of shame that was the product of civilization.
“What do you see?” Mimi asked, smiling. She tentatively held his hand.
“I see…” His chest heaved. “It is like…” He struggled to find the words but finally gave up the futile effort. With eyes puffy and swollen from crying, he gazed at Mimi. “I think I understand.”
The preinstalled network module on the Cyclops VII activated. He connected to the network shared by the waste people.
“Welcome, welcome!” The voices seemed to come from his ear and brain at the same time, both far away and nearby. It was as though the sensitivity of his visual cortex had been enhanced significantly, leading to synesthetic effects. “You’re now one of us.”
Kaizong saw Silicon Isle under the typhoon’s assault, an unfamil iar sight: the streets had turned into zigzagging channels for the surging floodwater; cars floated like little boats, spinning in the water, bumping into each other, and drifting with the swift flow; houses poked their black roofs over the surface like reefs, and slowly disintegrated, broke apart, collapsed into the water; the trees that remained standing showed only their crowns, and naked children held on to the branches tightly, their fearful eyes sparkling like some species of tropical bat; the powerful wind seemed to make the entire world tremble; between the flashes of the emergency lights, debris of all kinds swept by like frightened birds dropping out of the sky.
All of this was accompanied by singing voices like a boys’ choir. In the dark night, the plaintive sound was like a dull knife that scraped over the nerves inch by inch. He knew it was an auditory hallucination.
He saw a hand reach out to grab one of the branches and steady the raft; more hands reached out to help the children on the trees come down onto safety.
A trace of warmth came into the singing.
Tires attached to ropes were tossed to those struggling in the water. Some jumped into the water and swam for the old men and women who were about to be pulled under by the currents. Some removed the debris that clogged the openings of the drainage system. Shorted wires sparkled overhead while body films flashed in the surging torrents, marking possible undercurrents and whirlpools. The rafts tirelessly patrolled back and forth, carrying trapped refugees to more solidly constructed schools and public buildings.
Gradually, the expressions of the Silicon Isle natives turned from fear, apprehension, and suspicion to gratitude.
Thank you, they said.
Thank you, all of you, even more said.
The voices of the choir rose in great harmony, bright and clear, like a crystal tree reaching up toward the sky.
A familiar figure appeared in one of the perspectives Kaizong was looking through: a plump, middle-aged man in the water was holding desperately onto a branch with one hand to avoid being swept away by the flood. But a closer examination showed that his hand was some distance from the branch. The view zoomed in, and Kaizong saw that a strand of Buddhist prayer beads was wrapped around his wrist with the other end hooked to the pliable branch. The slender rope precariously resisted the combined force of the swelling current and his body weight.
The view shifted to the man’s face: wet, pale, a few thin strands of hair messily stuck to his forehead, an expression of exertion. Luo Jincheng.
Again and again, he struggled to gain his footing in the raging current, but each time, his legs were swept out from under him, and he fell back into the water. He desperately gazed at the strand of prayer beads, slowly sliding off the branch, and muttered a prayer that could not be heard.
Save him or no? Kaizong wasn’t sure if he was asking the others or himself. An answer soon presented itself.
The people whose perspective Kaizong looked through took some time to come to a decision, but ultimately, the raft approached Luo Jincheng. Due to the terrain, the current was more rapid here than elsewhere, and the raft struggled to hold steady a few feet from the man in the water. A hand extended to Boss Luo, once the master of Silicon Isle, but now hanging on to a strand of wooden beads for dear life.
Kaizong smiled at the virtual spa
ce.
Luo stared at the hand extended by a waste person. A complex series of expressions flashed across his face, as though this simple gesture was the most difficult decision of his life.
He lowered his eyes, shook his head, and finally lifted his left hand out of the water. Almost simultaneously, the strand of ebony prayer beads broke apart. Having lost his only support, Luo Jincheng was dunked into the water headfirst, and the fierce torrents swallowed him like a herd of wild beasts. Soon, not even a single trace of him was left on the surface.
Kaizong felt Mimi’s hand tighten in his, her fingernails digging into her palm. The pain seemed a reflection of the complex mix of emotions that she could not express. His mind wandered for a moment, and his eyes left the shared image transmitted over the wireless link to seize upon the tall figure flashing across the window. The man dashed into the shack with a swiftness that seemed unbelievable.
It was his boss, the TerraGreen Recycling project manager: Scott Brandle.
* * *
Li Wen ran through the gale. His slender frame swayed to dodge the debris carried on the wind. Fire burned in his eyes.
Mimi had retrieved the video that he had sealed away. Those disgusting colors and the rhythmically bouncing perspective reappeared. Mimi froze the video and zoomed in on the anguished face of the girl, and then advanced the video frame by frame. Li Wen’s heart bled as he stared at that face, the cherished face that was never far from his thoughts and that he could not bear to look at now for even a second. Mimi stopped on a certain frame, which didn’t seem to look very different from the others. Then she zoomed in even further until the girl’s dark irises filled the view, two abysses of despair that devoured all light. Software converted the image from color to grayscale, the jagged edges automatically smoothed by subsequent passes. A few pixels glowed with a faint red like a wound, and gradually brightened.