The Big Book of Science Fiction

by The Big Book of Science Fiction (retail) (epub)

  “My venerable god, these dirty bugs have nothing left but those few short poems! Ha-ha-ha…”

  “But they are unsurpassable!” Yiyi insisted, squaring his chest in a most dignified manner.

  The sphere stopped trembling, and murmured in almost a whisper, “Technology can surpass all.”

  “This has nothing to do with technology! This is the essence of the inner world of the human soul, and is unsurpassable!”

  “You say this because you are ignorant of the power that technology could eventually bring. Small bug, insignificant bug, you do not understand.” The god’s voice was silky, like that of a loving father, but the cold murderous notes buried within made Yiyi shudder with terror. “Look at the sun,” the god said.

  Yiyi did as he was bid. They were in between the orbits of the Earth and Mars, and he had to narrow his eyes before the sun’s brightness.

  “What’s your favourite colour?” the god asked.

  “Green.”

  Before the last syllable fell, the sun turned green, a bewitching, seductive green, as if a cat’s eye had suddenly appeared in the abyss of space. Under its gaze, the whole universe turned profoundly and eerily mysterious.

  Big-tooth’s claw quivered, dropping Yiyi onto the plane. After they had regained their senses a moment later, they suddenly realized a more shocking fact than that of the sun turning green: it would have taken more than ten minutes for light to travel to the sun from where they now were, yet all this took place in a flash.

  Half a minute later, the sun returned to normal, once again casting off its customary dazzling white rays.

  “Did you see that? This is technology, the kind of power that enabled our race to rise from slugs in the muddy ocean beds to gods. Technology is the real God. We worship Him with our whole body and soul.”

  Yiyi blinked his eyes, still dazzled. “But even gods cannot surpass that kind of art! We too have gods, imaginary gods, and we worship them too; but we do not believe that they can create the kind of poetry written by Li Bai or Du Fu.”

  The god sneered, and said to Yiyi, “You are the most stubborn kind of bug, which makes you even more repulsive. But, just for fun, I will surpass your art form.”

  Yiyi also sneered. “Impossible. For one thing, you are not human, and cannot feel human passions. Human art is to you merely a flower carved in stone, and you cannot overcome this obstacle with technology.”

  “There can be nothing simpler than overcoming this ‘obstacle.’ Give me your genes.”

  Yiyi was at a loss. “Give a hair to the god!” Big-tooth directed. Yiyi raised his hand and pulled out a hair. An invisible force sucked the hair to the sphere, then let it fall to the plane. The god only took some flakes of skin from the hair root.

  The white glow within the sphere surged around, then slowly turned transparent. Clear liquid then filled the sphere and a string of bubbles floated to the surface. Yiyi then saw a small yolklike ball in the liquid. It appeared a light reddish colour under the sunlight, and seemed to give off its own light. The sphere grew quickly, and Yiyi realized that it was a curled-up foetus, its swollen eyes tightly shut, with red interlocking blood vessels running all over its huge head. The foetus continued to grow, its small body finally stretching out, then began to swim in the liquid like a frog. At that point the liquid gradually turned opaque, and the sunlight that shone through the sphere revealed nothing but a vague shadow. The shadow rapidly grew bigger, finally turning into a fully grown, human-shaped form swimming in the sphere. The glowing sphere had now turned back to its original white opacity, and a naked man fell from the sphere onto the plane. Yiyi’s clone staggered up, with sunlight reflecting off his wet body. His hair and beard were very long, but he appeared to be only about thirty to forty years of age, and looked nothing like Yiyi except for the fact that they were both stick-thin. The clone stood stiffly, gazing lifelessly into the distance, looking as though he knew nothing about the universe that he had just entered. Above him, the white glow of the sphere dimmed, then extinguished altogether. The sphere itself disappeared as if it had evaporated. Then, Yiyi saw something light up and realized that it was the clone’s eyes. The dull empty gaze had suddenly been replaced with a light-radiating intelligence. Yiyi later found out that this was when the god had moved all his own memories into the clone.

  “Cold, this is cold?!” A gentle breeze blew over them and the clone wrapped his hands around his soggy shoulders, shivering all over, but his voice was filled with delight. “This is cold, this is pain! Delicate, perfect pain! The sensations for which I’ve wandered the galaxies searching so painstakingly: it’s as sharp as a ten-dimensional string passing through space-time, as crystal clear as the pure energy diamond at the hearts of quasars, ah—” He stretched out his bony arms and raised his eyes to the Milky Way. “I see none that have come before, nor any who might follow. Reflecting on a universe so…” A bout of shivering made his teeth clatter, ending his natal speech; he rushed to the incinerator to warm himself.

  The clone held his hands above the blue flames, shivering as he said to Yiyi, “What I am doing now is in fact ordinary enough. When I research and collect any art form from a civilization, I always invest my memory temporarily into a member of that civilization, thus ensuring that I truly and wholly understand the art form.”

  The flames in the incinerator suddenly flared up, sending multicoloured radiances across the plane. Yiyi thought the whole plane was now like a sheet of frosted glass floating on a sea of flames.

  “The incinerator has been turned into an output window. The god is making an energy-matter transformation,” Big-tooth whispered to Yiyi, and seeing that he was still perplexed, he added, “Idiot! Making matter from pure energy. God’s work!”

  The output window suddenly spurted out a ball of white stuff, which unfolded in midair as it fell. It was a piece of clothing, which the clone caught and put on. Yiyi saw that it was in the ancient style of the Tang dynasty, snowy white, and made of silk, with broad black trim. The wretched-looking clone was at once transformed into a divine-looking figure. Yiyi could not imagine how this piece of clothing could be fabricated from those blue flames.

  More things were being fabricated. Out from the window flew something black, which landed with a thud on the plane like a rock. Yiyi ran over to pick it up; he could hardly believe his eyes: what he held in his hand was undoubtedly a heavy ink stone, and it was as cold as ice. Something else fell onto the plane with a clang. Yiyi picked up the black, strip-shaped object and it was indeed a Chinese ink stick. Some writing brushes were then created, followed by a brush stand, a sheet of white rice paper (imagine that coming out of the flames!), a few antique-looking desk ornaments, and finally, the biggest object of all, an ancient writing desk. Both Yiyi and Big-tooth hurried over to straighten the desk and arrange the little objects on it.

  “The energy that was transformed into these things is enough to blow a planet to dust,” Big-tooth whispered to Yiyi, his voice shaking a little.

  The clone walked over to the desk, nodded in approval at the ornaments placed on top, and using one hand to stroke his now dried beard, he said, “I, Li Bai.”

  Yiyi scrutinized the clone and asked, “Do you mean that you want to become Li Bai, or that you think you are already him?”

  “I am Li Bai, the Li Bai who can surpass Li Bai!”

  Yiyi smiled and shook his head.

  “What? You doubt me?”

  Yiyi nodded. “It’s true enough that your technology is way beyond my understanding, and is to a human no different from magic or divine power. There are things that make me gasp with wonder even in the realm of poetry, that given such huge cultural, time, and space barriers, you can still grasp the true significance of Chinese classical poetry…but to understand Li Bai is one thing, surpassing him is quite another. I still believe that what you face is a transcendent art form.”

  An unfathomable smile appeared on the clone’s—Li Bai’s—face, but it was gone at once. He pointe
d his finger at the writing desk and commanded, “Prepare the ink!” He then walked away, stopping near the very edge of the plane, and gazed at the distant galaxies in deep contemplation as he stroked his long beard.

  Yiyi picked up a Yixing-ware pot from the writing desk and poured a little water onto the ink stone. He then picked up the ink stick and began grinding. It was the first time he had ever done this, and he tilted the ink stick sideways, clumsily grinding its edges. As the ink got thicker, Yiyi began to comprehend that he was in vast space, 1.5 astronomical units away from the sun, on an infinitely thin plane (even when matter was created from pure energy a moment ago, the plane still had no thickness when observed from afar) that was just like a floating stage in the abyss of the universe. On this stage was a dinosaur, a human who had been raised for meat like poultry by the dinosaurs, and a god of technology in an ancient Tang-dynasty robe who was preparing to surpass Li Bai. Actors in a truly bizarre stage play, thought Yiyi with a bitter smile, shaking his head.

  The ink more or less ready, Yiyi got up and stood waiting together with Big-tooth. The gentle breeze had ceased to blow on the plane, and the sun and the stars glimmered silently—it was as if the whole universe was waiting. Li Bai stood quietly at the edge of the plane, and as light did not scatter in the air above it, his form was distinctly divided by the sunlight into lit and shadowed parts. If not for the occasional movement of his hand stroking his beard, one would have taken him for a stone statue. Yiyi and Big-tooth waited and waited. As time soundlessly flowed by, the writing brush on the desk that had been soaked with ink had already started to dry. The sun’s position had changed a great deal without anyone’s noticing, casting long shadows of the desk, the spaceship, and of themselves onto the plane. The white rice paper laid flat on the desk seemed to have become a part of the plane. Finally, Li Bai turned around and walked slowly to the desk. Yiyi at once dipped the writing brush into the ink again, and handed the brush to Li Bai with both hands, but the latter raised a hand in dismissal and simply sank again into deep thought, looking at the paper on the desk. Something new appeared in his eyes.

  With considerable satisfaction, Yiyi saw that it was uneasiness and confusion.

  “I need to fabricate a few things, they are…fragile, so be careful when you go catch them.” Li Bai pointed to the output window. The blue flames that had grown weak flared up again, and Yiyi and Big-tooth had only just reached the window when a stream of blue flame spat out a round object. Big-tooth was quick and managed to catch it; he saw it was a large jar. Three large bowls followed, but Yiyi only caught two of them, with the other smashing to pieces on the plane. Big-tooth carried the jar in both arms to the desk, then carefully opened the seal. A strong scent of liquor gushed out, causing Yiyi and Big-tooth to stare at each other in astonishment.

  “There was not much information on liquor making by humans in the Earth Database that I received from the Devourer Empire, so this may not be exactly correct.” Li Bai pointed to the liquor jar and motioned to Yiyi to try it.

  Yiyi scooped out a little with a bowl and took a sip. A burning sensation passed from his throat to his stomach, and he nodded. “This is indeed liquor, but much stronger than the kind we take to improve the quality of our meat!”

  “Fill it up,” said Li Bai, pointing to the empty bowl on the desk, and after Big-tooth had filled it with the strong liquor, he drained it in one go, then turned again to walk into the distance, sometimes taking uneven, dancelike steps. Once he reached the edge, he stood there again facing the galaxies in deep meditation. But this time his body swayed rhythmically from left to right, as if in unison with an unheard tune. He did not take long to meditate before returning to the desk with dancing steps the whole way. He grabbed the brush that Yiyi handed to him, and flung it into the distance.

  “Fill it again.” Li Bai stared dully at the empty bowl.

  —

  An hour later, Big-tooth carefully laid a hopelessly drunk Li Bai onto the cleared writing desk with his large claws. But Li Bai turned over and tumbled down, muttering in a language neither man nor dinosaur could understand. He had already thrown up a huge and colourful mass (no one knew when he had eaten anything), and his wide ancient robe was now a complete mess. The white glow of the plane shone through the vomit, forming a highly abstract painting. Li Bai’s mouth was stained black with ink, because after his fourth bowl of liquor, he had tried to write something on the paper, but had only ended up jabbing the brush onto the desk very hard. Then he had tried to smooth the hairs of the brush with his mouth, just like any child starting to learn calligraphy.

  “My venerable god?” Big-tooth bent down and asked cautiously.

  “Wayikaah…kaahyiaiwa,” Li Bai answered with a thick tongue.

  Big-tooth stood up, and said to Yiyi with a sigh and shake of the head, “We’d better go.”

  THE ALTERNATIVE ROUTE

  Yiyi’s feedlot was on the Devourer equator, an area that used to be a beautiful grassland between two large rivers when the Devourers were still in the inner solar system. As the Devourers travelled beyond Jupiter’s orbit, harsh winter had descended, the grassland disappeared, and the rivers froze. The humans being reared there were moved underground. Later, the Devourers were summoned by the god and returned to the inner system. As they drew nearer to the sun, spring returned to the land, the rivers thawed, and the grassland became green once again.

  When the weather was favourable, Yiyi usually lived alone in a thatched hut he built himself by the river and grew his own crops. This was forbidden for the general run of people but since Yiyi’s lectures on classical literature at the feedlot had a tranquilizing effect, producing a special flavour in his students’ meat, the dinosaurs left him alone.

  It was an evening two months after Yiyi and Li Bai’s first meeting. The sun had just set on the flat horizon of the Devourer Empire. The two large twilight-lit rivers joined together at horizon’s edge. Outside the riverside thatched hut, a gentle breeze carried the faint sound of joyful dance songs from the distant grassland. Yiyi was playing go by himself when he looked up to see Li Bai and Big-tooth coming along the bank. Li Bai had changed a lot. His hair was tousled, his beard terribly long, and his face much tanned by the sun. He carried a rough-cloth bag on his left shoulder and a large gourd in his right hand. The traditional garb he wore had become tattered and the straw sandals on his feet were worn beyond recognition. Yiyi thought Li Bai actually looked more human now.

  Li Bai came over to the go board, and, just as he had the several times he was there before, set the gourd down heavily on the table without so much as a glance at Yiyi and demanded, “Bowls!” He uncorked the gourd after Yiyi brought over two wooden bowls, filling them to the brim. He then fished out a paper-wrapped package from his bag which Yiyi discovered contained cooked meat, already sliced. As its aroma reached Yiyi, he automatically reached out, took a piece, and started chewing.

  Big-tooth was standing two or three metres away, watching them in silence. Based on previous experience, he knew that they were going to discuss poetry again, a topic that he was neither interested in nor qualified to join.

  “Yummy.” Yiyi nodded with approval. “Is this beef also transformed from pure energy?”

  “No, I have long since embraced nature. You may not have heard but I have a farm quite a distance from here where I rear beef cattle from Earth. I’ve made this dish myself, using the recipe of Shanxi Pingyao Beef. The key lies in when braising the beef you should add”—Li Bai leaned over and whispered in Yiyi’s ear—“urine salt.”

  Yiyi looked at him, confused.

  “Oh, that’s the white stuff left when human urine evaporates. It creates a nice rosy tint in braised beef, making it tender and the texture just right without being too greasy or too dry.”

  “This urine salt…it’s not made of pure energy either?” Yiyi asked in trepidation.

  “I just told you that I’ve embraced nature. I’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to secure this urine sa
lt from a number of human feedlots. This is true folk culinary art that had been lost long before the Earth was annihilated.”

  Yiyi had already swallowed the piece of beef. To keep himself from throwing up, he picked up the wine bowl.

  Li Bai pointed to the gourd and said, “The Devourer Empire has built a few distilleries under my guidance. They can now produce most of the famous Earth liquors. This is the authentic Bamboo-Leaf-Green wine they made by infusing bamboo leaves in fen liquor.”

  Yiyi only then noticed that the liquor in the bowl differed from the one Li Bai had brought previously. It had a fresh green tint, with a sweet herbal taste.

  “It seems you’ve already gotten to know human culture inside out.” Yiyi was moved and told Li Bai.

  “That’s not all. I’ve spent a lot of time experiencing things for myself. As you know, the landscapes in many regions of the Devourer Empire are quite similar to those on the Earth where Li Bai had lived. In the last two months, I’ve been wandering among the mountains and waters, enjoying the beautiful scenery, drinking under the moon, and reciting poetry on mountaintops. I’ve also had a few amorous encounters in human feedlots all over this world.”

  “So you must be able to show me your poetic creations by now?”

  Li Bai quickly put down the wine bowl, stood up, and began pacing uneasily. “I did write some poems and they’re sure to astound you. You’ll see that I’ve become an excellent poet, outdoing even you or your forefathers. But I still don’t want to show them to you because I’m equally sure that you’ll think they have not surpassed the work of Li Bai, and I”—he gazed afar at the waning glow of the setting sun, his eyes hazy with distress—“would agree.”

  On the distant grassland, the dance was over, and the jolly people started their sumptuous dinner. A group of young girls ran towards the riverbank, playing in the shallow water at the shore. They each wore a coronet of flowers and a light chiffon gown reminiscent of clear morning mists, composing an intoxicating image in the twilight. Yiyi pointed to the girl nearest to the hut and asked Li Bai, “Is she pretty?”