Ice and Fire: Chung Kuo Series

by David Wingrove

  He shuddered. Andersen was a fool. And thank the gods for it. If he had known what he had in his possession. If he’d had but the slightest inkling…

  Berdichev looked down, stifling the laugh that came unbidden to his lips. Gods, he felt elated! He flicked back to the title page again. The Aristotle File. Yes! That was where it all started. Back there in the Yes/No logic of the Greek.

  He tapped the stack of papers square, then slid them back into the folder. What to do? What to do? The simple possession of such information was treasonous. Was punishable by death.

  There was a knock on the door.

  ‘Come in!’

  Andersen bowed, then brought the tray over to the desk and set it down on one side, well away from the folder. Then he poured the ch’a into a bowl and held it out, his head slightly lowered.

  Berdichev took the bowl and sipped.

  ‘How many people know about this?’

  ‘Four, including yourself and Kim.’

  ‘The boy’s tutor… T’ai Cho, isn’t it? I assume he’s the other?’

  ‘That’s correct, Excellency. But I’ve already instructed him to mention it to no one else.’

  ‘Good. Very good. Because I want you to destroy the files at once. Understand?’

  Andersen’s smile drained away, replaced by a look of utter astonishment. He had thought Berdichev would be pleased. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I want all evidence of this foolishness destroyed at once, understand me, Director? I want the files closed and I want you to warn Kim not to indulge in such idle fancies any longer.’ He banged the file violently with the flat of his hand, making Andersen jump. ‘You don’t realize how much this worries me. I already have several quite serious misgivings about the whole venture, particularly regarding the matter of the boy’s safety. I understand, for instance, that there was a fight, and that you’ve had to send one of the older boys away. Is that right?’

  Andersen blanched, wondering who Berdichev’s spy was. ‘That is so, Excellency.’

  ‘And now this.’ Berdichev was silent a moment, the threat implicit in his silence. The purpose of his visit today had been to make the latest stage payment on Kim’s contract. There had been no mention of the matter so far, but now he came to it. ‘My feeling is that the terms of our contract have not been fully met. You are in default, Director Andersen. You have failed to adequately protect my investment. In the circumstances, I feel I must insist on some… compensation. A reduction of the stage payment, perhaps?’

  Andersen lowered his head even further. His voice was apologetic. ‘I am afraid I have no discretion, Shih Berdichev. All contractual matters have to be referred to the board.’

  He glanced at Berdichev, expecting anger, but the Head of SimFic was smiling. ‘I know. I spoke to them before I came here. They have agreed to a reduction of one hundred thousand yuan.’ He held out the document for Andersen to take. ‘I understand it requires only your signature to make it valid.’

  Andersen shivered, suppressing the anger he felt, then bowed and, taking the brush from the stand, signed the paper.

  ‘We’ll verify this later,’ Berdichev said, his smile fading. ‘But with regard to the files, you’ll do as I say. Yes?’

  ‘Of course, Excellency.’

  He reached for the folder, but Berdichev held on to it. ‘I’ll keep this copy. I’d like my company psychiatrists to evaluate it. They’ll destroy it once they’ve done with it.’

  Andersen looked at him, open-mouthed, then hastily backed off a pace, bowing his head.

  ‘Good,’ said Berdichev, reaching across for the ch’a kettle. ‘Then bring another bowl, Director. I believe you have some money to collect from me.’

  ‘And how’s little rat’s arse this morning?’

  Kim kept his eyes on his plate, ignoring the figure of Janko, who stood beside him. Chan Shui had gone off to the toilets, saying he would only be a moment, but Janko must have seen him go and had decided this was his chance.

  He felt Janko’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing, not hard as yet but enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He shrugged it off, then reached out to take the biscuit. But Janko beat him to it. Laughing, he crammed it in his mouth, then picked up Kim’s bowl to wash it down.

  Kim went very still. He heard Janko’s cronies laugh, then heard the unmistakable sound of the boy hawking into his bowl.

  Janko set it down in front of him with a bang, then poked him hard. ‘Drink up, rat’s arse! Got to keep our strength up, haven’t we?’

  The inane laughter rang out once again from beyond Janko. Kim looked at the bowl. A nasty greenish gob of spit floated on the surface of the ch’a.

  Kim stared at it a moment, then half turned in his seat and looked up at Janko. The youth was more than half as big as him again. He would have made Matyas look a weakling by comparison. But unlike Matyas, he wasn’t dangerous. He was merely flabby and stupid and a touch ridiculous.

  ‘Go fuck yourself, windbag,’ Kim said, loud enough for Janko alone to hear.

  Janko grabbed at Kim, half lifting him from his seat, then thrust the bowl at his face. ‘Drink, you little piece of shit! Drink, if you know what’s good for you!’

  ‘Put him down!’

  Janko turned. Chan Shui had come back and was standing there on the far side of the room. Several of the boys glanced up at the cameras nervously, as if expecting Nung to come in and break things up. But most of them knew Nung well enough to guess he’d be jerking off to some PornoStim, not checking up on what was happening in the refectory.

  Janko released Kim, then, with an exaggerated delicacy, let the bowl fall from his fingers. It shattered on the hard tile floor.

  ‘Best clear it up, rat’s arse. Before you get into trouble.’

  Kim looked across at Chan Shui, a faint smile on his lips, then turned and went to the counter to get a brush and pan.

  Chan Shui was standing there when he came back. ‘You don’t have to do that, Kim.’

  Kim nodded, but got down anyway and started collecting the shattered pieces. He looked up at Chan Shui. ‘Why don’t they make these out of ice?’

  Chan Shui laughed, then knelt down and began to help him. ‘Have you ever tasted ch’a from an ice bowl?’

  Kim shook his head.

  ‘It’s revolting. Worse than Janko’s phlegm!’ Chan Shui leaned closer, whispering. ‘What did you say to him, Kim? I’ve never seen Janko so mad.’

  Kim told him what he had said.

  Chan Shui roared with laughter, then grew quiet. ‘That’s good. But you’d better watch yourself from now on. He’s a fool and a windbag, yes, but he doesn’t want to lose face. When I go for a pee, you come too. And fuck what these bastards think about that.’

  When T’ai Cho met him, just after twelve, he had two guards with him.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Kim asked when they were outside.

  T’ai Cho smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s okay, Kim. Just a measure the Director is insisting on from now on. He’s concerned for your safety outside the Centre, that’s all.’

  ‘So we’ve got them every day?’

  T’ai Cho shook his head. ‘No. It’s not necessary for the Casting Shop, but we’re going somewhere special this afternoon, Kim. There’s something I want to show you. To set the record straight, if you like.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I know. But you will. At least, much better after this.’

  They went up another twelve decks – a full one hundred and twenty levels – until they were in the heart of the Mids, at Level 181. Stepping out of the lift, Kim noticed at once how different things were from the level where the Casting Shop was. It was cleaner here, tidier, less crowded; even the pace at which people moved seemed more sedate, more orderly.

  They waited at a Security barrier while a guard checked their permits, then went inside. An official greeted them and took them along a corridor, then up a narrow flight of stairs into a viewing gallery, its front sealed off from the h
all below by a pane of transparent ice.

  In the hall below five desks were set out in a loose semi-circle. In front of them were a number of chairs, grouped in a seemingly random fashion. Five grey-haired Han sat behind the desks, a small comset – or portable computer – in front of each.

  ‘What is this?’

  T’ai Cho smiled and indicated two seats at the front of the gallery. When they were sitting, he turned to Kim and explained. ‘This is a deck tribunal, Kim. They have them once a week throughout the levels. It is the Han way ofjustice.’

  ‘Ah…’ Kim knew the theory that lay behind Han justice, but he had never seen it in action.

  T’ai Cho leaned forward. ‘Note how informal it all is, Kim. How relaxed.’

  ‘A family affair,’ Kim said, rather too patly.

  ‘Yes,’ T’ai Cho said at once. ‘Exactly that.’

  They watched the hall fill up, until not a chair was free and latecomers had to squat or sit on the floor. Then, without anyone calling anything to order, it began. One of the elders leaned forward across his desk and began to speak, his voice rising above the background murmur. The other voices dropped away until the elder’s voice sounded alone.

  He was reading out the circumstances of the first case. Two cousins had been fighting. The noise had woken neighbours who had complained to Deck Security. The elder looked up, his eyes seeking out the two Han youths. They stood at once.

  ‘Well? What have you to say for yourselves?’

  Beside them an old man, grey-haired like the elders, his long beard plaited, stood and addressed the elder.

  ‘Forgive me, Hsien Judge Hong, but might I speak? I am Yung Pi-Chu, Head of the Yung family.’

  ‘The tribunal waits to hear from you, Shih Yung.’

  The old man bowed his thanks, then brought his two great-nephews out into the space in front of the desks and had them strip off their tops. Their backs were striped from recent punishment. He made the two youths turn, showing the elders first and then the gathered audience. Then, bidding them return to their seats, he faced the elders.

  ‘As you see, respected elders, my great-nephews have been punished for their thoughtlessness. But the matter of my neighbours’ inconvenience remains. In that regard I propose to offer compensation of six hundred yuan, to be shared equally amongst the complainants.’

  Hsien Judge Hong bowed, pleased, then looked out past the old man. ‘Would the complainants stand.’

  Three men got to their feet and identified themselves.

  ‘Are you willing to accept Shih Yung’s generous compensation?’

  All three nodded. Two hundred yuan was a very generous figure.

  ‘Good. Then the matter is settled. You will pay the clerk, Shih Yung.’

  Without preamble, and before the old man had returned to his seat, another of the elders began reading out the circumstances of the second case. Again it involved two young men, but this time they had been charged with unsocial behaviour. They had vandalized a row of magnolia trees while drunk.

  At the elder’s request the two men stood. They were Hung Mao, their dress neat, respectable, their hair cut in the Han style.

  ‘Well?’ the elder asked. ‘What have you to say for yourselves?’

  The two men hung their heads. One looked momentarily at the other, who swallowed, then looked up, acting as spokesman for the two.

  ‘Respected elders, we make no excuses for our behaviour and are deeply ashamed of what we did. We accept full responsibility for our actions and would fully understand if the respected elders should punish us to the full severity for what we did. However, we ask you to consider our past exemplary record and would humbly submit the testimony of our employers as to our conduct. We propose to pay for the damage in full and, in respect of the damage to the harmony of the community we ask that we should be given a month’s community service.’

  The elder looked briefly at his fellows, who all nodded, then faced the two youths again.

  ‘We have read the submissions of your employers and take into account your past exemplary conduct. Your shame is clear and your repentance obvious. In the circumstances, therefore, we accept your proposals, your term of public service to commence in two weeks’ time. However, should you come before this tribunal a second time on a similar charge it will result in immediate demotion. You understand?’

  Both men bowed deeply and looked to each other briefly.

  Two more cases followed. The first was an accusation of theft. Two men claimed that another had robbed them, but a Security film showed they had falsely accused the man. The two men, protesting violently, found themselves held by Security guards and sentenced. They were to be demoted five decks. Amidst wailing from the two men and their families and rejoicing from the falsely accused man and his, the permits of the two were taken from them and they were led away.

  The fourth case involved a charge of violent assault by a middle-aged man on his wife’s father. Both families were in court, and for the first time there was real tension in the air. The matter was in dispute and it seemed there was no way to resolve it. Both men were deeply respected members of the community. Both swore their version of events was the truth. There was no Security film to solve the matter this time and no impartial witnesses.

  The elders conferred a moment, then Hsien Judge Hong called the two men forward. He addressed the older of them first.

  ‘What began this dispute?’

  The old man bristled and pointed contemptuously at the younger. ‘He insulted my family.’

  Judge Hong was patient. It was, after all, a matter of face. For the next half hour he slowly, cleverly, drew the threads of circumstance out into the daylight. At the core of it all lay a trivial remark – an off-hand comment that the younger man’s wife was like her mother, idle. It had been said heatedly, carelessly, in the course of a disagreement about something entirely different, but the old woman had taken great offence and had called upon her husband to defend her honour.

  ‘Do you not both think that things have got out of hand? You, Shih T’eng,’ he looked at the younger man, ‘Do you really believe your mother-in-law an idler? Do you really have so little respect for your wife’s mother?’

  Shih T’eng lowered his head, then shook it. ‘No, Elder Hong. She is a good, virtuous woman. What I said, I said heatedly. It was not meant. I…’ He hesitated, then looked at his father-in-law. ‘I unreservedly apologize for the hurt I caused his family. I assure him, it was not intended.’

  Judge Hong looked at the old man and saw at once, from his bearing, that he was satisfied. Their dispute was at a close. But the Elder had not finished with the two men. He leaned forward angrily.

  ‘I am appalled that two such good, upright men should have come before me with such a… a petty squabble. Both of you should feel deeply shamed that you let things come to this.’

  Both men lowered their heads, chastened. The hall was deathly silent as Judge Hong continued.

  ‘Good. In the circumstances I fine you each five hundred yuan for wasting the time of this tribunal’ He looked at the two men sternly. ‘If I hear any more of this matter I shall have you up before us again. And that, I guarantee you, chun tzu, will be to neither of your likings.’

  The two ‘gentlemen’ bowed deeply and thanked the court, then went meekly to the clerk to pay their fines.

  T’ai Cho turned to his pupil. ‘Well, Kim? Do you still think the Han way so bad?’

  Kim looked down, embarrassed. T’ai Cho’s discovery had made things difficult between them. It would have been easier had he been able to say, No. I did not invent the world you read about, but sometimes the truth was stranger than a lie and far harder to accept.

  ‘I have never thought the Han way a bad way, T’ai Cho. Whatever you believe, I find you a highly civilized people.’

  T’ai Cho stared at him a moment, then shrugged and looked back down into the body of the hall. The crowd had dispersed now and only the five elders remained, talking amongs
t themselves and tying up any remaining items of business. T’ai Cho considered a moment, then smiled and looked back at Kim.

  ‘There are no prisons in Chung Kuo. Did you realize that, Kim? If a man wishes to behave badly he may do so, but not among those who wish to behave well. Such a man must find his own level. He is demoted.’

  He paused, then nodded to himself. ‘It is a humane system, Kim. The most severe penalties are reserved for crimes against the person. We might be traders, but our values are not wholly venal.’

  Kim sighed. It was a direct reference to something in the File – to the greedy and corrupt Hoi Po, or Hoppos, as the Europeans knew them, who had run the Canton trade in the nineteenth century. He had not meant his comment to stand for all the Han, but saw how T’ai Cho could easily have mistaken it for such.

  Damn Matyas! he thought. And damn the man who left the files for me to find and piece together!

  T’ai Cho continued. ‘There are exceptions, naturally. Treason against the T’ang, for instance, is punishable by death. The traitor and all his family, to the third generation. But ours is a fair system, Kim. It works for those who wish it to work. For others there are other levels of existence. In Chung Kuo a man must find his own level. Is that not fair?’

  Kim was tempted to argue, to ask whether it was fair for those born into the Net, or into the Clay like himself, but after all the damage he had done with the File he felt it would be churlish to disagree. He looked past T’ai Cho at the elders.

  ‘What I saw today, that seemed fair.’

  T’ai Cho looked at Kim and smiled. It was not a full capitulation but, still, there was good in the boy. A great deal of good. When he smiled, for instance, it was such a fierce, sincere smile – a smile from the very depths of him. T’ai Cho sniffed and nodded to himself. He realized now he had taken it too personally. Yes, he understood it now. Kim had been talking of systems. Of philosophies. He had let the abstract notion carry him away. Even so, he had been wrong.

  ‘About the files, Kim. I had to tell the Director.’