Where The Stars Rise: Asian Science Fiction and Fantasy
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WHERE THE STARS RISE
ASIAN SCIENCE FICTION & FANTASY
LAKSA ANTHOLOGY SERIES: SPECULATIVE FICTION
Edited by Lucas K. Law & Derwin Mak
LAKSA MEDIA GROUPS INC.
www.laksamedia.com
Laksa Anthology Series: Speculative Fiction
EDITED BY SUSAN FOREST AND LUCAS K. LAW
Strangers Among Us: Tales of the Underdogs and Outcasts
The Sum of Us: Tales of the Bonded and Bound
Shades Within Us: Tales of Global Migration and Fractured Borders (forthcoming)
Seasons In Us: Tales of Identities and Memories (forthcoming)
EDITED BY LUCAS K. LAW AND DERWIN MAK
Where The Stars Rise: Asian Science Fiction and Fantasy
Where the Stars Rise: Asian Science Fiction and Fantasy
Laksa Anthology Series: Speculative Fiction
Copyright © 2017 by Lucas K. Law & Derwin Mak
All rights reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, organizations, places and incidents portrayed in these stories are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual situations, events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Laksa Media Groups supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Laksa Media Groups to continue to publish books for every reader.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Where the stars rise : Asian science fiction and fantasy
/ edited by Lucas K. Law and Derwin Mak.
(Laksa anthology series : speculative fiction)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-988140-04-9 (hardcover).—ISBN 978-0-9939696-5-2
(softcover).—ISBN 978-0-9939696-6-9 (EPUB).—ISBN 978-0-9939696-7-6
(PDF).—ISBN 978-0-9939696-8-3 (Kindle)
1. Fantasy fiction. 2. Science fiction. 3. Short stories,
Oriental (English). 4. Short stories, South Asian (English).
5. Short stories, Southeast Asian (English). I. Mak, Derwin,
editor II. Law, Lucas K., editor
PN6071.F25W44 2017 823’.087608092 C2017-900079-9
C2017-900080-2
LAKSA MEDIA GROUPS INC.
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
www.laksamedia.com
info@laksamedia.com
Edited by Lucas K. Law & Derwin Mak
Cover and Interior Design by Samantha M. Beiko
Lucas K. Law
To my nephews and niece,
Ethan Law, Kegan Law, Trinity Law-Boisvert,
Always be proud of who you are and where you come from,
Do not let fear stop you from pursuing your dreams,
But always stay humble and don’t forget those less fortunate;
To my extended nephews, nieces, grandnephews and grandnieces,
Feist, Keller, Scott, Tipton, and Yochim,
Life’s a journey and it’s never a straight smooth road,
Have courage to step off once in a while to take care of yourself;
To Vancouver Island Regional Library and Qualicum Beach Library,
For your support of the Qualicum Beach Asian Collection.
Derwin Mak
To my Aunt Sophie,
Who gave me a copy of Time-Life’s To the Moon many years ago.
It was my earliest source of photos and information about space flight and inspired me to think and write about space.
Table of Contents
FOREWORD - Lucas K. Law
INTRODUCTION - Elsie Chapman
Spirit of Wine - Tony Pi
The dataSultan of Streets and Stars - Jeremy Szal
Weaving Silk - Amanda Sun
Vanilla Rice - Angela Yuriko Smith
Looking Up - S.B. Divya
A Star is Born - Miki Dare
My Left Hand - Ruhan Zhao
DNR - Gabriela Lee
A Visitation For The Spirit Festival - Diana Xin
Rose’s Arm - Calvin D. Jim
Back to Myan (translated by Shaoyan Hu) - Regina Kanyu Wang
Meridian - Karin Lowachee
Joseon Fringe - Pamela Q. Fernandes
Wintry Hearts of Those Who Rise - Minsoo Kang
Udātta Śloka - Deepak Bharathan
Crash - Melissa Yuan-Innes
Memoriam - Priya Sridhar
The Observer Effect - E.C. Myers
Decision - Joyce Chng
Moon Halves - Anne Carly Abad
The Bridge of Dangerous Longings - Rati Mehrotra
Old Souls - Fonda Lee
The Orphans of Nilaveli - Naru Dames Sundar
AFTERWORD - Derwin Mak
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
ABOUT THE EDITORS
COPYRIGHT ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
APPENDIX: MENTAL HEALTH RESOURCES & ANTI-DISCRIMINATION RESOURCES
FOREWORD
Lucas K. Law
All emotions are universal. Regardless where we come from or where we are going, we live, we dream, we strive, we die.
I see fragments of myself in each of the twenty-three stories you are about to read, from an immigrant to a person caught between two cultures, from the struggle to conform to the meaning of blood, from dealing with a particular culture to accepting the uniqueness in each other, from facing discrimination to finding oneself, from wrestling between ghostly pasts and uncertain future.
Finding oneself is a major theme running through the stories. It often comes when facing adversity. I may not have experienced the exact situations found in this anthology. But, I have to deal with some form of similar struggles—all of us have to if lives are supposed to be lived.
I immigrated to Canada at fifteen, leaving a comfortable world of childhood and high school friends in Borneo, to be a stranger in a strange land of eternal winters (even the summer winds are never fully warm and soothing).
Being different led to discrimination and bullying in school, university, and the workplace. I was called by many names. I was told that my accent was funny and it would hold me back from any future promotions. I was asked to be more extroverted and aggressive at work. I was looked down upon because I lived in the wrong neighbourhood, went to the wrong school, wore the wrong clothes . . . The list went on and on and on—enough to weigh a person down and out. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. Enough to make one ashamed of his heritage or ancestry or background. It took a long time for me to fully accept myself for being me. More than thirty years.
I find that there are people who will put you down, sometimes beyond reasons. But there are others, often strangers, who will pull you up, sometimes without you knowing. Hold on to them, their words, their actions, even if that moment of connection is fleeting. Be grateful for their lessons and words of wisdom. Be kind to pass them forward and give back.
The world is changing so quickly, more information, more news, more of everything—the line continues to blur, facts blend with fiction, truth with lies. There is no one destination but a series of constant challenges and changes, forcing us to make choices, sometimes harsh and bitter, sometimes sudden and alarming, sometimes quick and easy. At times, no choice at all. What we make out of this�
��choice or no choice—we need to believe in ourselves and find that sliver of hope.
Be proud of who you are and where you come from, and yet, remain humble.
In the end, no one is perfect, but each of us can be unique, honest, real—just like the stories in this anthology. Derwin and I are grateful to Elsie Chapman and the authors for taking us on their journeys, for the glimpses we are given into their fictional lives, for their struggles for acceptance, recognition, and belonging, for reflecting lives in profound and moving ways and finding a voice in history.
Please promote mental health and stand up against discrimination and bullying. Support your local charitable organizations. Support and help each other on this brief journey on Earth. A portion of this anthology’s net revenue will go to support Kids Help Phone.
—Lucas K. Law, Calgary and Qualicum Beach, 2017
INTRODUCTION
Elsie Chapman
More diversity in our art, please.
More variety in our books, more colour in our characters, more of all the things that shape the voices and hearts of both.
Simply, more.
It’s no real secret that when it comes to Asian culture in books, much of what exists remains in the forms of stereotypes, tropes, clichés. Simply put, there aren’t enough Asian voices in publishing, and the viewpoint of a westernized lens often narrows rather than focuses.
In science fiction, we are strange geniuses, awkward nerds, small-statured guys in the back of the room who don’t stand a chance in the romance subplot.
In fantasy, we are ninjas, monks, kung-fu masters who aren’t allowed to articulate much beyond stoic, emotionless silence or short sound bites of deep, life-changing wisdom.
Yet, we’re getting somewhere.
This anthology, for one.
When Lucas and Derwin contacted me to ask if I’d be interested in writing the Introduction to Where The Stars Rise, I was both honoured and humbled. It was never a question of whether I would do it, but what I could say that could come close to encapsulating why, as a Chinese Canadian, so much about this anthology is a treasure.
Canadian publisher. Indie. Contributors who are either of Asian ethnicity or who have spent significant time living in Asia. A portion of sales going to Kids Help Phone, the long-standing Canadian counseling service that offers free assistance to kids and teens in need.
Most of all, that this anthology is a celebration of Asian diversity.
Where The Stars Rise is a collection of original Asian-themed stories, crafted from an Asian perspective and envisioned through Asian lenses, and from its first pages, we’re taken on journeys. We cross seas to learn of other lands, dive deep into others for the mysteries that lie below; we feel the strange chill of outer space on our skin, smell and taste the unfamiliar air of its new planets.
Two sisters struggle to survive in a society broken by war, natural disaster, and the sudden absence of technology.
A woman, reincarnated over and over again, discovers she can’t always outrun the past.
An orphaned child, raised to be a deadly soldier in an off-planet war, begins to question the meaning of blood.
Even beyond being Asian, the characters that fill this anthology are diverse within themselves.
Given stories of their own, they are no longer simply checked checkboxes or one-dimensional sidekicks in someone else’s narrative. They get to have layered backstories and messy, complicated families. Emotions run on a spectrum. Motives are clouded, questionable, as grey as storms.
Some characters are gay.
Some bend time.
Some are heroes.
But none are perfect, and this makes them infinitely more interesting—more honest, more real—than any stereotype.
As mirrors and windows of the diversity of Asian culture, they succeed. Their voices ring true. Embrace them as you read this collection of fresh, innovative stories. Follow where they lead you.
And don’t look back.
—Elsie Chapman, Tokyo, Japan, 2017
Author of Along The Indigo from Abrams/Amulet
Spirit of Wine
Tony Pi
In the city of Changsha, Song Dynasty China . . .
Catching a sound night’s sleep before the prefectural examination? That would be sane.
Forsaking sleep to revisit the Four Books and Five Classics? Commendable prudence.
Yet slipping out to carouse on Market Street?
That was sheer madness.
Be it fever or temptation that lured my sworn brother to this sty they called a tavern, I cared not. Shengming must take and pass this exam, same as me. The prefectural exams were administered once every three years. Fail and we could not take the metropolitan exams in the capital next year. Fail and our dreams would dash like lacquer upon rock.
To my chagrin, Shengming sat chortling in the company of three heavyset men, the table before them cluttered with overturned plates and broken cups. Oblivious to my arrival, he waved in waiters laden with plates of lychee, fried chestnuts and roasted duck, lifted his bowl high and poured millet wine into his grease-smeared mouth. Half his drink spilled down his face, but he finished with a chuckle and swiped his sleeve across his wispy beard. “More wine, Old Boss,” he hollered in slurred words.
Across the crowded room, Old Boss bobbed his head like a fat pigeon and dispatched his wife to the task. I hoped he wasn’t expecting a decent profit from Shengming tonight. Unless my sworn brother suddenly came into a fortune, he was as poor as I was and could never afford his share of excesses. I hadn’t the money to cover his shortfall, but perhaps I could talk sense into his head. With a sigh, I pushed through the throng of patrons to confront my sworn brother.
I wrapped fist-in-hand in greeting. “Kind First Brother, we must go,” I pleaded. “If we are to take the exams tomorrow morning—”
Shengming barely acknowledged my arrival. Regarding me with a strange, blank look, he took a bite of a lychee fruit and spat the peel at my feet. “Who in the Hells are you?”
I reddened. “It’s Ruolin, of course!” How could he not recognize me? We had been inseparable since we were ten, pushed one another into more mischief than I could remember. We had sworn an oath, burned the contract to register our brotherhood with the heavens, and drank wine mingled with our blood.
“This your brother?” Shengming muttered to himself, making no sense at all. How much had he drunk?
I grabbed my sworn brother by the shoulders. “Shengming, sober up!”
“He doesn’t know you, friend.” Shengming’s long-faced drinking companion jabbed a duck leg in my face. “That’s as clear as the mole on your nose.”
I fought the instinct to shield my nose, to wilt beneath the stare of fat eyes from every table. Heads tilted to hear us, gamblers murmured bets on whether I would throw the first punch. Instead, I rolled back my right sleeve and displayed the proverb inked in green on my inner forearm: love wine like life.
“He knows me. Why else would he bear the same tattoo, done by the same hand?” The night before we came of age, we had been so drunk that we awakened with more than a hangover. Which of us chose the phrase and why, neither of us could remember, but we laughed and took it as a sign of our unbreakable bond.
Shengming smiled crookedly and lifted his arm, letting his sleeve fall from his skin to prove my claim. “Love wine like life!” he roared and slapped the table. “Delightful, utter delight. I’ve decided to like you, Ruolin. Join us!”
One of his companions, the rotund one, frowned. “What, you paying for him too?”
Shengming was treating them to the meal? Even if he and I pooled our money together, we would never be able to pay for all this.
“Pay? Huh, forgot about that.” Shengming searched through the folds of his clothes and found a small pouch. With great aplomb, he emptied the contents onto the tabletop. Out fell a few paltry coppers.
“Aiah,” the owner cried. “Who’s paying for all you’ve eaten?”
Shen
gming’s long-faced friend rose to his feet, towering over us. “Not us. This bastard told us he’d cover it.”
Unfazed, Shengming drank from his bowl. “So we split the bill, Horse-Face. What’s the big deal?”
I really wished I had clamped my hand over Shengming’s mouth.
Horse-Face’s hands balled into fists. “What did you call me?”
“You heard me,” Shengming answered, his words slurred. “You, Ox-Rump and Pig-Fart, should just pay your fair share.”
Spurred by Shengming’s new insults, the other brutes leapt to their feet, but I surprised them by falling to my knees and kowtowing to them. Had it been anyone else, I might have left him to learn from the beatings to come, but this was First Brother.
“Honoured gentlemen: I, the insignificant, beg you forgive my First Brother for his thoughtless words,” I said in my meekest voice. Not that I could fault Shengming for such apt descriptions of the three, but I knew better than to voice those thoughts. “Whenever he drinks, the wine in turn consumes him. Please, take all he says to be drunken jests. I will find a way to pay for all he owes.”
Horse-Face grabbed a fistful of robe and hoisted me to my feet. “You better.”
“Hells, you’ll do no such thing.” Shengming spat on the ground. “They eat, they pay.”
“See how he turns witless when he’s drunk?” I said. “Shengming, we must settle the account and go. If we linger here, we’ll miss the exams!”
Shengming spat on the ground again. “Why should we care about boring exams when the wine still calls to us? Drink with me, Ruolin.”
I could not believe what he had just said. “Have you forgotten your promise? When your father took ill, you prayed that he might live to see you enter the civil service, to see you bring honour to your family. By divine grace he convalesced, but you must keep your oath to the gods, First Brother.”