Death Fugue

by Sheng Keyi

  ‘Hey, it’s highly efficient. There’s no excitement, no frustration, no prelude, and no climax. Everything is cultivated successfully according to the will of Swan Valley.’ Mengliu leant against the door frame, smiled cheekily, and said, ‘But having a child without putting effort into the creative process is really shameful. You see, Swan Valley has played me for a fool.’

  More retching sounds came from Rania and she flushed Mengliu’s words down with the fresh vomit. When she had finished, he had to accompany her to the hospital for a checkup, filling in forms and waiting for the government’s birth permit. Rania stuffed her mouth with cranberries and started reading Rousseau’s Emile. She chatted about the child’s name and education. As soon as she placed her hand on her abdomen, Mengliu became red-faced and breathless, as if she were clenching his heart.

  At night he grew inexplicably anxious. He was unable to concentrate on a single thought without the pockets of blankness appearing in his mind. He walked on the darkened streets. The moonlight flowed around him, and where the bushes grew he could hear rustling sounds. Experience told him that a couple must be involved in illicit sexual relations, secretly enjoying the freedom of sex as they did the freedom of the moonlight. The moistened bushes were dishevelled, and the trees stout and carnal, creating an indulgent atmosphere.

  The moon painted the streets and houses in a poetic mist, but one which was also rational and calm. Getting a taste for this impersonal kind of romance, he found himself close to a demonic blue light that rotated and flickered. He chased after it, and the beam of light seemed to play a game with him, stubbornly keeping at a certain distance. Without realising it, he had walked into the forest, and the blue light rotated three times in quick succession and charged at his face. His head exploded into a white cloud, and he lost consciousness.

  When he awoke, he was seated in a Chinese official’s chair, surrounded by the familiar machine room. He immediately stood up and shouted, ‘Hey! Listen to me. I’m just an ordinary guy, not one of those big brains with superior intelligence. I’m the kind of scum who’d take the taxpayer’s money and do shoddy work. You should be out looking for the high-level people. They have a sense of justice, conscience, ideals, patriotism. They are so heated up with enthusiasm their blood burns. Frankly, their excellent genes are much more suitable for your plans. I can give you a list. Men, women, fat, thin, educated, politically motivated – I know them all. I can take you to Dayang. I know every building on every street. The people there trust the state, they trust ideals, and they trust other people. I think it is safe to say they could quite easily be taken away.’

  ‘Mr Yuan, you really shouldn’t say anything.’ It was the robotic voice again, languid, full of disdain and mockery. ‘You are the one our machine searched out, the man with the highest quality of genes. Of course, you can be suspicious of anyone, but you have to trust science, and you have to trust the machine.’

  Mengliu assumed the robot would give him the periscope, as it had done before. He really wanted to have a better look at the woman with green hair. But apparently the robot did not plan to do so. ‘That can’t be right,’ he replied. ‘There must be a problem with the machine. Someone like me is just rubbish, not even worth mentioning.’

  ‘Ha! Mr Yuan, you were born a Swanese. Humble, low-key, with the virtue of not being proud of your special talent. You can win a much better reputation and status…’

  ‘I don’t need it. You can’t possibly know what it is people need!’ Mengliu shouted, his voice lingering.

  ‘Don’t worry about that. I know exactly what the people of Swan Valley need. We won’t be tarnished by the modern pleasures of life, the decay, the erosion of principle, the moral turpitude, the spiritual emptiness…human life is limited. We won’t create waste or let crises brew. Our practice is to allow each individual to be innately elite, genetically so. We must improve the quality of the human race.’

  ‘That’s just subjective fantasy. Winston Churchill said that Western society has two things that were least flawed. One is democracy and the other is a market economy. From what I have seen, Swan Valley has two things that are most flawed.’

  ‘Oh? May I ask which two?’

  ‘Abstinence and politically arranged marriages. Since ancient times, humans have seasoned food with spices to satisfy their taste, used the fragrance of flowers and grass to cultivate their sense of smell, and created art to satisfy our eye for beauty – but you want to put restrictions on all human feelings and imprison people in their bodies. And as for excellent genes…’

  ‘Mr Yuan, you greatly underestimate an elite race’s tenacity of will. Immorality caused the death of nations even in ancient times. Lowly personal desires only exist in vulgar people. The citizens of Swan Valley are broad-minded, they hold manners and virtues in high esteem and focus on noble spiritual pursuits, so how…’ The robot was talking slowly.

  ‘This is a perverted illusion of peace. I know that not long ago there was a man who went missing. And a girl committed suicide – she was forced to death by what you think of as nobility, but others call insanity. You lied and said the man lost his mind and fell into the river and was eaten by squid. The girl who committed suicide was just following her own beliefs…’

  ‘For maintaining the normal social order and institutional dignity, death is the most common deterrent.’

  ‘That is a fallacy. It is disregard for human life,’ Mengliu interrupted.

  ‘Wrong. Your mind is overgrown with weeds. You need to cleanse your brain, clear away anything that hinders the operation of the machine. But then again, you are doing a good job with the forums. Evaluating the psychological state of the people, and reporting on their thoughts – very impressive. You have ambition, and you know how to use power to serve the people. This is an excellent quality.’ The robot took a deep breath. ‘The direction of all human activity, whether political, economic or cultural, is not something that can be decided by individual intuition or feeling. A machine is selfless, it pays attention to data…Oh by the way, let me congratulate you. You are going to be a father. The government will send a professional to take care of the expecting mother. The food has been arranged scientifically to ensure good nutrition.’

  Mengliu wasn’t listening to the robot. He noticed the fluorescent blink and alternating colours on the machine nearest to him. There were oddly shaped controls that made clicking sounds. He reached out and pressed a purple switch with his finger. The lights faltered in a drunken chaos. He began moving both hands frantically over the machine, as if playing an instrument. All he could see was a crackling burst of fiery light, as all the machines began to shake, and then to roar like frightened, crazed beasts. Their parts jostled, and there was a great confusion of noise, as if he were in a huge workshop. The robot’s angry voice mixed with the cacophony. ‘Ruined! You’ve broken the machines! You’ve dared to destroy the machines, and you will be hanged, fed to the squid…The machines are failing. The information is confused! The data is incorrect…You’ve acted in ignorant recklessness. It will lead to numerous miscarriages of justice.’

  The temperature in the room had suddenly increased. Sure enough, the machine in front of him was manically producing statistics, filtering data, creating analogues and clicking away like a typewriter. The data printed out continuously, faster than a newspaper press. It piled up, full of strange hieroglyphics. Mengliu found himself blocked in. He climbed over the stack of paper, intending to flee, when he saw a sheet headed ‘A Comprehensive Report on the Swan Valley Mind, and Spirit Data Chart Statistics’. Printed in red were the names of people with mental defects and other diseases. His name was there, like a centipede, bloated with blood, crimson and plump, wriggling its numerous feet. It suddenly turned into a huge monster, its mouth open to bite him. Mengliu went limp and fell to the ground.

  11

  The officially-brewed recipes for pregnant women gave special attention to nutrition. There were three vegetables dishes, one or two meat dishes,
and a soup, and in addition to these regular meals, there was a flexible supply of extras. If the pregnant woman vomited, complementary foods were to be taken immediately, and it was considered a traitorous act for an expecting mother to refuse food. Noble dedication would quickly overcome the symptoms of morning sickness, and the pale-faced Rania, each time she vomited, placidly ate another meal, only to expel it again in an ongoing cycle of eating and vomiting. She remained calm and maintained her appetite. She no longer minded the sounds or uncomfortable poses that her retching produced, she acted like a filter. Food and fresh fruit juice went into her mouth, and were deposited in the golden toilet bowl very soon after.

  She lost weight very quickly, and her face grew sharp and her shoulders narrow, like the Mona Lisa morphing into Lin Daiyu, the willowy heroine of the sentimental tragedy The Dream of the Red Chamber. Her pale skin was suffused with green, her plumpness disappeared, a gaunt look took its place. The poor girl suffered the sacrificial pains of motherhood, she underwent a severe testing of her patriotic doctrines. Mengliu did not bother about any of this. He was immersed in his musings about the robot, and whether it was a dream or a real place he had visited. Perhaps his auditory hallucinations, or his perceptual problems, had become more serious. He was always in a daze, unable to recall even the names of Hei Chun and Bai Qiu, much less a line of their poetry. His permanent place was beside the window where he could see the mountains and the river and the herds grazing on the slopes, and hear the playful voices of the people floating by, as if he were seeing characters taken right out of the Old Testament. They had land and cattle, and God was always with them. He longed to talk to God.

  The government and the scientists were very concerned about whether Mengliu and Rania’s offspring would be a genetic wonder. They took great pains to provide the necessary culinary and nutritional care, assigning Darae to be Rania’s nutritionist. When the weather was bad and there were no meetings, Mengliu was surrounded by an unshakeable sense of melancholy. Darae was the only friend he could talk to. Every time he saw him, it was like grasping at a lifesaver. Darae brought Rania his newly created dishes: Snow Fox (fried pieces of squid), Battle of Bosnia (cabbage and black mushrooms), Running My Fingers through Your Hair (pig trotters stewed with seaweed), and Small City, Unique Talent (a mixed salad). Mengliu said that the mix of hot and cold in this menu, eroticism and war, was not a bad combination. Darae thought that eating was an art, requiring a certain level of genius when it concerned the appetite of a pregnant woman. Mengliu was shocked to hear Darae’s view of Rania’s pregnancy. He said that depriving a young girl of her vitality and making her conceive was inhumane and, to put it more seriously, was almost equivalent to raping her. He had been naive not to have anticipated this sort of thing. He asked if there was a girl Darae fancied. Darae remained completely silent for a long while before he finally said no.

  It was hard to say what brought about the miracle. Morning sickness didn’t interfere with Rania’s appetite anymore, and she was able to suppress the vomiting with the strength of her willpower. Her skin regained its colour and her body returned to its plump state. She was praised as the pacesetter for pregnant women, and invited to travel around giving lectures about her experience in controlling morning sickness, turning the lectures finally into a bestselling book. Her message was, ‘Will determines everything.’ Nailed to Mengliu’s lintel was a golden sign emblazoned with the words Home of a Spiritual Pacesetter. He felt like he was a fake Christ being nailed to a cross, full of unease. He could not break through the shell of Rania’s spirit. She focussed all of her attention on her budding career and her abdomen. Her skin glowed, once again white and lustrous as porcelain.

  But during this time, something wasn’t right with Rania. Her temperament was eccentric, flaring up from some unknown source, making Mengliu irritable in his turn. He read that pregnancy could affect the sexual functions of a woman, but Rania’s actions were also very odd. This Lin Daiyu would break plates in her anger, which was swift and fierce. Sometimes she seemed completely out of control, suppressing her vomiting one minute, weeping the next, making a mess of her whole face. He didn’t know whether to stop her, or simply let her vent her unhappiness. He didn’t understand women at all, especially not pregnant women. He felt like he was watching someone else’s wife, wondering what sort of husband she must have to make her so unhappy, thinking he must be a real piece of shit. He also wondered whether the woman had a mother or father, siblings or friends. The government sent servants to care for her, but could they really make her happy? Could they meet all her needs?

  Mengliu’s expression, at once innocent and stupid, further intensified Rania’s emotions. She scolded him, this stranger who had come to ruin her life. When the government had been unable to find her a genetic match for a parenting partner, she had been quite happy, since it left her free to participate each day in intellectual debates. Not to say she was all that good at it, but she had developed something of a reputation. She didn’t want to marry and have children, she just wanted to pursue knowledge in order to sharpen her tongue in the debates. She could be subtle and underhanded. The government arranged for her to marry someone she liked, but she found out that he was another woman’s man, and hypocritical to boot. In the end, she thought that Mengliu must be her lucky star. But since he had appeared she’d gotten herself into all kinds of trouble. He was the one who had turned her into a fertility machine.

  As her accusations against Mengliu grew more fierce, he grew happier. He preferred her like this. It meant they could really talk.

  ‘You wrong me when you blame me for turning you into a fertility machine. That is your beloved government’s doing. I was abducted by Swan Valley and have also become a reproductive machine. Maybe you don’t believe me, but the people of Swan Valley are nothing more than data, a bunch of guinea pigs.’ Mengliu took a considerate attitude toward Rania, hoping to catch her at a sober moment. ‘In fact, I’d love to go back to Dayang. If you could help me, I will remember you forever. As for the child…it’s also not what you and I want, and moreover it will be raised by the government. Anyway, you and Su Juli, you Swanese women do not need men. Rania, let me say it again, I was kidnapped and brought here. I will leave Swan Valley sooner or later, and whether or not you choose to believe that is up to you. I simply don’t care about this damned official post, I would rather go back and be locked up in prison than stay here –’ As he said this, Mengliu suddenly stopped, wondering if it was really necessary for him to go back and sit in jail.

  Rania flushed. ‘You…are the most sordid man I’ve ever met.’

  Mengliu responded cheekily, ‘Since this is how you feel about your husband, you should apply for a divorce. I will certainly cooperate. I’ll present you with all the support you need. Does that sound all right?’ He was mostly sincere in saying this, as he had no desire to quarrel. Rania did not understand. She said he was narrow-minded, making concessions out of condescension toward a pregnant woman. She called him a villain, and said he would never understand the breadth and height of the spirit of Swan Valley. Then she resumed her gentle obliging state, using polite speech to shame Mengliu. He was at pains to smile bitterly as he responded. ‘Tea cleanses the mind and calms the soul. I’ll brew a fresh pot of tea.’

  During this time Mengliu’s skill at brewing tea had improved, and he drank it like an addict. It was difficult to imagine how his meetings could be carried on without the beverage. Holding the cup, smelling, sipping – this series of actions could divert attention and demonstrate his leadership qualities. They contributed to the pretence of being serious, churning out ideology reports, digging up a batch of ideas wrapped in spirit, thrashing it out before the others, arguing, holding up their souls which were purer than snow as they cried out.

  Rania sat down, looking dignified with her knees touching the underside of the round wooden tea table, her skirt falling over them to the ground. She wore a pale-pink lined jacket. Her neck was slender, with no sign of wri
nkles. It was such a waste to use this unblemished youthful body to carry a foetus. Her maternal instinct was still hidden, she exuded a powerful sense of youthfulness and innocence. You could easily think of her as a competitive young girl. Mengliu was visualising her in this way, when she said to him, ‘Let me tell you the truth. I’m not pregnant with your child.’

  Mengliu was not as shocked as she expected, his expression was cold. ‘Nothing strange about that. I’ve always doubted the government’s workmanship. In a place where abstinence is practised, this sort of confusion isn’t surprising. But I don’t understand why you are telling me.’

  ‘If you expose me for having premarital sex, you will be promoted.’

  ‘But I don’t care.’

  ‘That’s not being magnanimous. It’s cowardice.’

  ‘Even if it’s cowardice, that’s how I feel.’

  ‘You don’t mind at all?’

  ‘Rania, we are husband and wife in the legal sense, but we have no emotional connection. Still, what do you need me to do? I’ll give it my best shot.’

  ‘Please expose me.’

  ‘Why should I expose you? What benefit is there to you?’

  ‘Do you really want to go back? I know a secret passage.’

  ‘Huh? A secret passage? Why haven’t you escaped yourself then?’

  ‘Whether I’m to live or die, I won’t leave.’

  ‘Even if they’re all just out to test me, they shouldn’t have sent a novice like you to try.’

  ‘…Mengliu, I haven’t been sent by anyone to test you. I only want to know what you want. Even if I was pregnant with your child, you wouldn’t care about me. You’re the most cold-blooded man I’ve ever known.’

  Mengliu handed her a glass of water. ‘Rania, the debt of bearing this child is best paid by Swan Valley.’ When she had calmed down a little, he went on, ‘I want to tell you something serious. Can you guarantee that you won’t tell anyone?’