by Sheng Keyi
She nodded.
‘This may sound a bit strange, but I’m sure you’re not from here. You’re from somewhere in Eastern Europe, such as Germany, Poland, the former Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria… your parents and siblings and friends must be there. Think about it. Isn’t that so?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘I suspect that your memory has been tampered with. Tell me, what is the earliest memory you have? What year? Where?’
She thought, then shook her head.
‘I believe we can get to the bottom of this.’ Mengliu felt he could talk to her about the robot. He told her about his meetings and conversations with the machine and the circumstances surrounding them. ‘You have amnesia for a reason. And it’s not just you. It’s Juli, Esteban, Darae. They all have this problem. Perhaps after a few years I will be just like you, forget the past, my family and friends, and think of myself as Swanese. This is a frightening prospect. We will all be like fruit from a tree, picked and put in a basket, never knowing which tree we’ve come from. We’re alive, but our names are already recorded in Hades, we’re dead without having seen the grave. Our relatives grieve over us. Have you ever wondered why Esteban is dark-skinned, Juli appears to be of mixed Indian blood, Darae looks Korean, and you seem like someone from an Eastern European aristocracy? There are people here from all sorts of races. We all speak English in our own accents. It’s obvious we come from different countries. I can’t explain how. You say you are a child-bearing machine, and I’m just a breeding stud. We’re like grasshoppers on a string.’
‘I can see you are bewitched.’ The yellow leaves rustled as Rania spoke, coldly. ‘And quite sick.’
12
The meetings had become boring and were eventually replaced by debates. Esteban was always a major figure at the debates. On this occasion he was leaning against one of the pavilion’s pillars, watching the decorative fish in the pond as if he were one of them, a fish that had left the school and was swimming alone. Perhaps he had something on his mind, something he could not say to the fish, because the fish population was the incarnation of morality. He could only blow bubbles in the midst of the fierce ideological turmoil within him, and think of a plan while facing the bubbles as they floated constantly to the surface.
Mengliu threw a pebble into the pond, startling and scattering the fish. The lone black koi swayed its tail a few times, not moving from its spot. When Mengliu finally spoke to Esteban he said, ‘Who knows what fish think? When two of them swim together, can they be considered a couple? Do they have any concept of a family connection? Do they shed tears?’
He went on to say he was tired but he couldn’t sleep well. He woke up in the middle of the night and stared at the stars. He felt tortured. God had too many suffering souls to look after, and the devil was given free rein to go about at his pleasure. ‘What should I do Esteban? Tell me, Rania and I…don’t you think it’s just too absurd?’
The black carp started swimming away, looking for a more secluded spot. It stuck its head under a rock, leaving its rear exposed to the world.
‘Mr Yuan, to tell you the truth, you are the nastiest person I have ever met. You know it to be true too, but you don’t want to admit it.’
Talk of the spirit and that sort of thing was like a drug to Esteban. Once it had taken effect, a rosiness emerged from the darkness of his face. It was hard to describe that sort of radiance. It looked like he had activated some sort of impenetrable shield. No language or culture or onslaught of gun or cannon fire could shake his inner faith.
Mengliu remained silent for a while. Other than feeding the black fish with bits of the bread he held in his hand, he could think of no word or act that was consistent with his inner world.
But then he resumed. ‘I’d very much like to know where you are from. One day when we all return to our own homes, we should remain in close contact, and visit one another often. We may even become brothers in adversity. Actually, I’ve had a lot of brothers who’ve been through trials and tribulations with me, but you wouldn’t know. They bled, died, disappeared, fled, sought refuge elsewhere…but me, I have escaped through the gate of history, and I have lost contact with my brothers.’
Mengliu’s words felt fuzzy. He was like a koi blowing bubbles, with smooth spangled scales, perfect lines of muscle. He could not be singled out as he swam among the fish. The school made him feel safe and secluded. It was a quiet group of fish. They swam as one, playing by the rules. He became completely caught up in his recollections of the past. When he looked down again, the black carp had disappeared, leaving only an empty crevice and a confusion of young shrimp learning how to jump.
Several days of unusually heavy rain left Swan Valley in a state of disorder and darkness.
The rain showed no intention of stopping, so Mengliu took an umbrella and went out. The rain beat on the umbrella like a drum, creating waterfalls at its edges. He was like a rock, a wasted log, a huge ship, his heart turning in agitation. Later, the rain let up a bit, and a misty red strip of cloud appeared in the sky. The sun poked its face out, still half-hidden by the clouds. The light rain looked both alive and tired in the sunlight. He walked to Juli’s house, his shoes and socks getting soaked. It was just like the first time they had met, with Juli bringing clean clothes for him to change into. They started to talk about the rain. The great inconvenience it brought also had its benefits. It was as if Mengliu had come specifically to discuss the rain.
Juli took his damp clothes to dry, then casually went about making tea, her movements haphazard and her eyelashes sticking to her cheeks, her speech cool and courteous. Mengliu felt like they were looking at each other from opposite sides of a river. With the waters between them surging, he grew somewhat bored. The distance made him sad. It was as if they were being pushed apart by some unseen hand. He hoped Juli was hiding something, that she was in fact about to collapse, and would soon be throwing herself into his arms in tears. The porcelain teacups had three painted herrings swimming in them, with a muddy yellow line running around the sides of the cup. Juli knitted her brow, her eyelashes trembled, and her hands shook. She spilled the tea.
He felt that she was fatter than before, her face was like a Buddha’s, full of meaning. From time to time she would break into a crazy laugh, creating a tense atmosphere in the room. When she wasn’t speaking, she was like a mushroom growing in the crevice of a cliff, lying low, wet and preoccupied. He wanted to talk to her about something more than the weather, like artificial insemination, or a marriage ordered in red ink by forms from the state, or the present, or the future. But Juli’s unbreakable quiet elegance prevented him. He took a book from the table and flipped through it idly. He remembered a topic that interested her, grew animated, and decided to end his dilemma.
‘Let me tell you something interesting.’ He put the book on his knee, caressing the cover with his palm. He wanted to see a renewal of life in her eyes, and so he paused, waiting for her to ask him what it was.
But there was nothing urgent in Juli’s demeanour when she asked flatly, ‘Is it a funny story about the Three Musketeers? Or is it about the leaders? You shouldn’t rely on the same old material all the time. Come up with something fresh.’
‘This is something I’ve never talked to anyone about. It’s a secret about Hei Chun and Shunyu. Shunyu was always in love with Hei Chun, but his heart was just not inclined that way. Love is unfathomable, sometimes it is able to attack a long-standing fortress and topple it in an instant.’ Mengliu stalled again. The house grew dim, as the sun set behind the slight misty rain that fell on the trees. ‘At that time, the crowds on the streets had carried out a sit-in that lasted almost a month. One day, there was a conflict between the civilians and the military on West Beiping Street. A military vehicle was smashed up. Hei Chun took a brick and, in anger, threw it at the pile of scrap metal. Suddenly he saw a girl in a white dress digging out two bricks from the door frame of the public toilet and slamming them at another mil
itary vehicle. It was Shunyu. Hei Chun was very surprised. He thought her posture had perfect revolutionary style when she threw the bricks, and he was enchanted. He trotted over to her, grabbed her hand, and ran. Shunyu said, “What are you doing? Leave me alone. I’m not a party member. I quit the Plum Party.” Hei Chun said, “You better stay in the Plum Party. I want people to see how I do a Plum Party member.”’
Juli lowered her head, as if the story stimulated her and gave her the shivers. ‘That’s barbaric!’
‘Sometimes savagery is romantic. They ran into the nearest alley. Hei Chun pressed her against the wall, raised her skirt…that son of a bitch! You know, Shunyu loved him. Even if he tried to have her killed, she wouldn’t resist.’
Juli’s body retreated instinctively.
‘It’s all true. Nothing that happened was unusual at that time. That was Hei Chun’s revolution, and his romance. He said when the conflict ended he would marry Shunyu…’ A light fell on half of the living room as the rain stopped completely and the setting sun floated in. Mengliu squinted, paused for a moment, then said, ‘After Shunyu died, Hei Chun went missing, and the conflict ended.’
A person can close his eyes, but not his ears. The sound of flowers opening, night falling, birds singing, bones shattered by bullets, machine gun chatter, explosive missiles hitting glass, the pulsing moans and the fires punctuating the dark…these sounds were like a symphony that was both passionate and cruel as they blared in Mengliu’s mind.
Juli wiped water stains from the table with a towel. ‘You are still alive. It’s a pity you have run out of ideas.’
Mengliu didn’t speak. He felt blood on his tongue, and he tasted its salt. When he went out the door, the sun splashed over him. He heard Juli say, ‘the walking dead’, and his leg injury began to ache faintly. He walked alone, slowly, not knowing where he should go. Since moving out he had lost all sense of belonging. He still burned for Juli, but she didn’t display a trace of warmth. The ground was wet, the air cool. A curved rainbow hung over the hilltops in the mist. The golden forest stretched to the horizon. It was autumn, and there was a hint of a chill in the air. Mengliu sat under an acacia looking into the distance at a cluster of clouds on the mountains, watching the occasional fall of a yellow leaf. He looked at the wound on his leg. It had healed, now the pain was mostly in his mind. He was overcome with sadness, and had to breathe in deeply.
The appearance of Shanlai cheered him. He wore a dark-coloured lightweight jacket. It had been many days since they had met, and he had a new sense of maturity and calmness, as if he knew all the secrets. He met Mengliu with the warmth of an old friend. Mengliu had much he wanted to say, so when he saw Shanlai, it came pouring out of his mouth.
‘Shanlai, you once said the soul is a box. Where does this box go after we die?’
‘It turns into a star.’ Shanlai pointed to the sky. ‘When a meteor falls, a soul has disappeared.’
Mengliu looked at him. He turned into a fish, a mysterious black-and-white speckled furry fish. Its tail swung eerily, and its chocolate-coloured eyes flashed slyly, seeming to taunt the human inability to understand a fish’s world. Mengliu rose from his sadness, as if he’d suddenly remembered he had a meeting to attend. He was willing to go on sitting here, perhaps sitting forever. But he thought, You little shit. I’m treating you as a good friend, but you don’t understand the complexity of the world…
‘Head of a Thousand Households, the world is indeed complex, and always surprising.’ Shanlai seemed to read his mind. ‘They asked me to look for you and take you immediately to the hospital. I’ve heard that the machine data was mistaken, and that you and Rania are not the perfect couple…’
Upon hearing the machine had made an error, Mengliu was so happy he nearly laughed out loud.
The distant snow covered the mountain like a veil on a demure bride. The sky was so thin that a fingertip could poke through it. The moon floated out, transparent as a soap bubble, shiny as a coin. If one blew at it, a string of silvery whistles could be heard.
13
Mengliu had no interest at all in procreation. He considered his own life quite terrible, and always lived in confusion. To bring a child into this world would be irresponsible, even without considering the fact that the world was only getting worse, there was pandemonium and pollution everywhere. He had seen a lot and he was sick of it. He would rather be alone, free to come and go as he pleased, without care. It wouldn’t matter if he lived or died.
He was not anxious to go to the hospital, and dallied on the way there. He wondered what Rania being at the hospital had to do with him. She had Swan Valley, an omnipotent, meticulous and all-embracing government. It gave her the warmth of a husband, the dignity of a father, the omnipresence of God…
He seemed to see her lying on a white hospital bed, with a family of doctors and nurses for companionship, holding her hand, examining her body, stroking her forehead, their smiles calming and comforting her. So he was superfluous. His only value was that he had carried the genes and provided the sperm. He was special material. But someone like him would not be particularly favoured in Dayang for this reason. Dayang didn’t care for such things. They just wanted mediocrity, so long as you were servile enough, and stayed firmly fixed in your place until you were rusted on there. Even if you were versatile, useful, full of ideas, if you weren’t obedient you’d be ostracised until you were broken and then allowed to drift away.
From this point of view, living in Swan Valley was a blessing. Mengliu came to this conclusion for a moment, and the beauty around him deepened the conviction, as the clean air scrubbed the bitterness from his heart, and emptied his mind. His light, transparent body floated, as if the wind was carrying him on his way to the hospital.
The hospital was cool and quiet, shrouded by trees. A stream flowed under a wooden bridge, seaweed swaying and leaves floating on its surface like boats on a voyage. The courtyard was warm and orderly. In the garden patients in pink-striped garments were strolling, reading or telling stories to each other in controlled voices, and looking good. Mengliu walked through the garden and a hundred-metre-long hallway hung with paintings, past an art gallery, library and concert hall, and finally along a narrow path full of flowers. He arrived at the obstetrics ward. A scent like that of a lady’s bedroom surrounded him, and irritated his nose. He sneezed several times, as the sound of his footsteps disappeared into the sky-blue carpet.
He pushed open the door to the ward, and ran into a tall nurse who was just coming out. A pair of big black eyes gave him a fright. He had been engulfed by a dark sky with two lone stars twinkling in it. She looked like a giraffe, with her too-large eyes blinking as rhythmically as wipers on a windscreen, though in slow motion, which made her look lazy and arrogant, and somewhat knowledgeable. She knew who he was, and she forced him back a little as she closed the door before saying his name. Her speech was gentle and easy-going, and she said she had been hearing his name for a long time, and that she counted it as a privilege to meet him. She admired the fact that he was humble and unassuming, even though he carried good genes. And she adored poets. She rambled on, not allowing him to interrupt. Finally, in a whisper, she revealed a secret, some of the parties concerned had come to the scientific conclusion that she and he would provide a perfect combination of genes. As she spoke, she donned an expression of academic rigour, then turned to open the door, and made him sidle through the narrow opening into the ward.
Rania lay there, face paler than the wall, hair dishevelled. She looked as if she was being ripped apart. Her eyes remained closed. From the expression she wore it wasn’t obvious that she was enduring pain. She seemed calm and detached when the convulsions passed. Mengliu bent over and looked at her face, asked how she was, and what had happened. Rania opened her eyes no wider than a seam. They looked faint and scattered. She said nothing, but then her face suddenly tensed and her body doubled over. She did not make the slightest sound. He thought she looked like a giant shrimp, convulsi
ng and then returning to stillness, and he almost laughed. Actually, he did laugh in his mind, but he stood still, waiting for her to finish convulsing, then asked again how she was. She didn’t try to open her eyes this time. It was as if she were dead.
At that moment, the tall nurse came in. She said that this sort of pain was normal after labour-inducing drugs had been injected, and that after a few more hours, after the foetus was out, things would be back to normal. Mengliu was shocked. ‘Induced labour? Who dares to tamper with this government-sanctioned child? This is illegal.’
The tall nurse took a document from the bedside table and handed it to Mengliu. It bore the red stamp of the Gene Department. The content of the file was quite lengthy, but the gist of it was that the data produced by the upgraded version of the machine showed that any offspring produced by a combination of Mengliu and Rania’s genes would create a child with an IQ of less than eighty, which did not meet Swan Valley procreation requirements and was contrary to genomic principles. To ensure a quality population, the pregnancy had to be terminated immediately.
Rania convulsed a few more times.
‘I am Head Nurse Yuyue. If you need anything, just press this.’ The tall girl pointed to a red button on the side of the chest of drawers. Her figure was slim but curvaceous, and checking her out required Mengliu to climb up and down some mountains. She looked quite naive, her bob-cut hair was black and smooth, as if covered in water drops. She took the file with her, and seemed to smile back at him as she left.
Mengliu gazed at the woman on the bed waiting for her contractions. The head nurse’s attitude showed that Rania’s ‘normal labour pains’ were hardly worth mentioning, and that pity would be wasted on her. If it meant bidding farewell to an unpleasant identity, then Rania’s pain was a positive thing. Mengliu thought of what he had read in the file. The clear implication was that he and Rania would soon be released from the bonds of marriage. Like someone who had been tied up for a long time and then released, his body was still numb, and he was not quite sure what to do with himself. He poked through the books on the shelf, picked up the one that seemed most interesting, and then sat down on the sofa beside the bed and flipped through it. He felt warm and comfortable, his blood resumed its smooth life-giving flow, and he became absorbed in the book. Occasionally he looked at Rania as she maintained the fixed rhythm of expression and convulsion, and noted nothing especially out of the ordinary.