Writers of the Future Volume 28: The Best New Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year

by L. Ron Hubbard

  “Ohm shanti,” he responded. “You have a companion, Adam.”

  “Yes, Crab. This is Liyang. She was pursued all the way to the cliffs. They got her boat.”

  A general groan at this news. She noticed that everyone was thin and pale.

  “They did not see you?”

  “No, but there was no time to salvage. My regrets.”

  “Take your place and introduce your guest,” said the old man with a wave. He spoke in a detached manner, as if her presence was unimportant, but, as she walked with Adam down the middle aisle, she felt the intense stares of the others.

  One of the Chinese, a young man with a smooth round face and an unruly shock of straight black hair, smiled and shifted his position. The gesture was subtle, but Liyang read in it an invitation. She was suddenly aware that all the Chinese sat on one side of the room, and the rest, various ethnic groups, sat on the other. Torn for a moment, unsure whether to join the Chinese or follow Adam to the other side, she realized that her future in the group would be determined by her decision. After a pause, she placed her hands together and bowed, and followed Adam.

  A plate of sliced raw fish sat at his place, a wedge of lime and a glass of white wine, about a third full. A few condiments that she didn’t recognize also rested on the plate. But instead of sitting down, Adam peeled off his plastic suit. Liyang looked at him and then at the others.

  General laughter. “Don’t worry, dearie,” said a woman in Chinese. “You don’t have on a P-suit. You’ll want to strip naked after a day in one of those.” Liyang had not noticed her before; she was the only fat person in the room.

  Adam was down to baggy underwear when he sat. His body was better proportioned than she thought, though she tried to show no interest.

  “She’s just off a boat,” said Adam, “and hasn’t a clue what we’re about.”

  Crab stroked a stringy goatee. He was quite thin, though not emaciated, and wore a white diaper-looking loincloth. His eyes remained half lidded as if falling asleep. “What has she brought us?” he asked, his gaze falling on the backpack.

  “Ah, I haven’t had a chance to explain that to her.”

  Liyang’s pulse quickened. Her gun, a necessary accoutrement of life in the tong, was in the bottom of her backpack and could not be quickly reached. How could she have walked into this situation unprepared? Had she grown up in the Old Buddha tong for nothing? Assessing the strengths of the individuals, particularly the Chinese, she remembered Adam’s warning. She would need help, perhaps the help of these very individuals, in order to survive.

  “They blew up my boat. All I have is what’s in my pack.”

  “You may present it to us.” No mistaking the old man’s command. He gestured to the spot in front of him, yet he did so with an indifference that quieted her alarm.

  “Do you have any food?” asked the fat woman, this time in English.

  “I’m sorry. Nothing but some energy bars.”

  It seemed to her that everyone in the room leaned forward.

  “We accept your energy bars and any other edibles you have.” He waved again to the spot on the floor in front of him.

  “You are welcome to them, Crab, and I have some mints, too.” Reluctantly, she placed her pack on the floor where he indicated. Then she knelt on the other side of the pack, not wanting to get too far away from the chips.

  Crab reached forward and dragged the bag into his lap where he released the catch and lifted the flap. One at a time, he removed the energy bars and lined them up in front of him.

  “Oh, God, I hope they’ve got chocolate on them,” said a woman’s voice from farther down the room.

  “Draw,” said one of the men.

  “Divide,” cried several others in a sudden cacophony of English and Chinese.

  “I will decide,” said Crab in a louder voice than before, bringing out two little plastic boxes of mints and placing those next to himself.

  Next, he withdrew a notebook, which he placed on the floor by Liyang. Then he withdrew a battery pack. “One of our members no longer has batteries.”

  “Thank you,” said a middle-aged woman sitting to Liyang’s right.

  Crab continued to bring out the items of her pack, placing them next to himself or indicating to whom they would go, or placing them next to Liyang. Finally, only two items remained in the bottom of the bag: her box of computer chips and her revolver.

  He lifted out the long box and held it in the air for a moment. His half-lidded eyes flickered as if in recognition.

  “Honorable Crab,” she said, deferentially. “Those are my computer chips. They are the only way I have to start a new life.”

  Crab flipped the latch and raised the lid so that he looked down on the individual chips, each one in its own transparent case. “What kind are they?”

  “Genji480s.”

  Crab only stared at them.

  “They could bring high price in Hong Kong or Okinawa City,” said a voice behind her in English. Liyang recognized the fat Chinese woman who had spoken before.

  “Valuables are kept in my safe,” Crab said, placing the box next to himself. “They can be a source of conflict.”

  Liyang felt a rush of heat to her face. Her hands twitched. He had taken her chips—or had he? Her eyes flashed at Adam. His brow was wrinkled, but otherwise she couldn’t read him. Did Crab know what the chips were? They had appeared on the Chinese market not two months ago. Perhaps he was faking.

  He lifted the bag and placed it next to her. He had seen the gun at the bottom. She knew he had seen it, and yet he did not acknowledge it. That gave her hope that he was not confiscating the chips.

  “Thank you, honorable Crab,” she said, bowing her head. She had studied yoga in a college class, but could not remember the proper phrase of obsequence.

  She put the few items he had returned to her back in the pack. As she stood, a voice said in Chinese, “Your place is on this side.” She turned, but could not tell who had spoken. It was a man’s voice in the Shanghai Mandarin dialect. The words had been stated as fact, not as command, and no one moved to make room for her. Crab said nothing; she couldn’t even be sure that he heard, or that he understood Chinese. Acutely aware that all eyes were on her, she bowed in the traditional manner, her mind in turmoil, and then returned to the place on Adam’s mat.

  When she sat, Adam smiled, his eyes sparkling, as if he were proud of her. It made her angry. Her whole future had just been plopped into the lap of an old man who probably didn’t know what computer chips were. Yet, she was also pleased, a bit, with his regard for her.

  The Chinese across from her stared expressionlessly. The faces of the others, on her side of the room, she could not see. When she glanced back at Crab, he proceeded as if nothing had happened, placing the bars, their wrappers off, on a wooden slab. He brought out a knife.

  “This will seem strange to you, Liyang,” he said without looking at her. “We have plenty to eat; it’s just that we do not have a great deal of variety. Certain highly refined food products, for instance, are extremely rare and highly prized.

  “Drawing for them has produced too much conflict, and so my ruling is that we divide. Each bar will be divided into six pieces. There are nineteen of us, but Liyang will not get a piece. The mints will be distributed at our next meeting.”

  At that, he cut the energy bars, carefully, not touching them with his hands. He leaned over them, his nostrils expanding, although how he could smell them over the odor of his body Liyang did not know.

  “You may now approach. Come in your designated turn.”

  Liyang watched in rapt fascination as the members of the group approached the old man, knelt to the floor, bowed their heads and held out a hand. Crab lifted each piece with the knife and deposited it into the waiting palm. He mumbled as he did it, although Liyang could not hear what he said. The r
itual had the look of a Christian communion, a few of which she had seen before.

  None ate their piece until they returned to their mats. There they nibbled, took small bites and closed their eyes. A woman wept. When Adam returned with his piece, he offered to share, but Liyang shook her head. Adam chuckled. “Take it. In a few days you’ll wish you had.”

  “Honorable Crab,” said the Chinese woman again.

  Crab nodded to acknowledge her.

  “In another week, rotation of the gyre will be putting us out of range of Hong Kong. Perhaps one of our poor boats could be repaired enough to make one more run for . . . serious supplies.”

  “What kind of supplies do you need?” The tone of Crab’s voice gave no indication of interest.

  “We must think of the future. One day, gyre will bring us directly across from Kamwome Island. It could be easily taken, even with few boats. Most of the Marshall Islands have been abandoned since the Kiekie incident. People live in palm huts. They will be easily defeated. I have been there. It is my vision that our days of living on floating garbage will end.”

  There were murmurs of agreement from the Chinese. Those on the opposite side sat silently. Crab appeared to be asleep. Liyang could not help but notice that the woman had said “one more” run to Hong Kong. Perhaps they weren’t as isolated as Adam said.

  “Meantime,” Madam Woo said, “the Genji chips would give us enough yuan to buy necessary guns and ammunition, and many comfortable things. To sell them would be a benefit to all.”

  Liyang straightened her back and started to respond, but Adam placed a hand on her arm.

  “I know that some have doubts.” The woman raised a hand as if reprimanding the non-Chinese who faced her, “but you will see. Put feet on solid sand instead of plastic that shreds your skin. I ask you to consider how different life will be on Kamwome. You will see I am right.” She nodded and squinted at the assemblage.

  Crab looked up and blinked. “Each of us is free to act upon his or her own conscience. We are not a force to be marshaled like an army. I am reminded of the lessons of Lord Krishna as he spoke to Arjuna before the battle of Kurukshetra. He said . . .”

  Crab quoted from the Bhagavad Gita. Liyang knew it from a class at the university. As his response droned on, she fell asleep in her sitting position.

  The trail they followed took a steep decline into a narrow valley. Enough white was contained in the plastic to reflect the light off the walls, and Liyang saw the necessity of Adam’s goggles. But the faded particles also contained many other colors, giving an overall mottled appearance. Some of the individual particles were recognizable: the arm of a doll, the handle of a soap dispenser. The trail and the floor of the little valleys through which they passed were brown and dark, as if dirt had washed in and settled in the low places.

  “I have to get those chips back.”

  “You didn’t seem terribly anxious, falling asleep and all.” Adam’s lips turned up ever so slightly. Liyang imagined his eyes twinkling behind the goggles.

  “The Bhagavad Gita is boring.”

  “How discerning of you. Your education does seem a bit beyond that of our ordinary inhabitants.

  “Accounting at Hong Kong University. The tong needed a high-powered accountant to deal with the government.”

  “They teach Hindu mythology in Accounting 101 these days?”

  “Those were electives. I took many, many electives. But right now, I need to know what happened back there. Will I get my chips back?”

  “Crab is always fair.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “To be frank, he’s never confiscated something like that. Usually he divides things up or assigns them according to need. Just how valuable are they?”

  “Very.”

  Something moved on the mound next to Liyang, causing her to jerk away.

  “Crabs. Real crabs,” said Adam. “An amazing number of things manage to eke out a living on the plastic.” When Liyang did not respond, he continued. “That meeting was strange in several ways. You missed the second glass of wine. Crab is usually quite stingy with it. He must have thought that we needed a balm after Madam Woo’s declaration of war on the Marshall Islands.”

  “I sensed that people were shocked, especially the people on our side of the room.”

  “That’s the first time anyone has ever gone against Crab, and the first time anyone has ever admitted trips to the mainland.”

  “Who are all those people?”

  “To wax poetic,” he said, “you could call them the flotsam and jetsam of the world. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

  “You mean, like the scum of the earth?”

  “Ah, I see that poetry doesn’t appeal to you.”

  “Actually, it does, and that’s an apt metaphor.”

  Adam bowed.

  “But I need to know what’s going on.”

  “We’re a diverse group, actually, but we do share the common trait of having, shall we say, failed at our last venture.”

  “But what are they all doing here?”

  “The same thing you are.”

  She thought it best not to respond to that. “I take it we’re not trapped? That woman talked about a boat making a run to Hong Kong.”

  “Various opportunities arise for departure,” Adam said, “but few of us take advantage of them although there are some, I believe, waiting for the gyre to bring us close to Hawaii. We were near Indonesia for months which accounts for the Indonesian contingent. All of us, I believe, are hiding, some from justice—some from injustice.”

  Liyang wanted to know more about the rotation of the gyre, but she felt it best not to show interest at this point. “Are you hiding?”

  “Of course.”

  “But why?”

  “My dear, in Poly Island Society that question is considered very impolite. It’s obvious enough that we are here. Do you imagine that anyone of sane mind would remain in such a hostile environment of their own volition? Besides, that wasn’t exactly a vacation cruise that brought you to our sterile shores.”

  “Fair enough. But what about Crab?”

  “Crab. Ha! He’s been here the longest, before anyone else. He figured out the P-suit technology that’s kept everyone alive. Prolonged exposure to the plastic wears away the skin. Everyone knows they are dependent on him for survival. He’s probably working on a suit for you right now.”

  “He hasn’t got some kind of hold on people?”

  “There are rumors about a conflict with earlier inhabitants. Every once in a while he shows a kind of scientific side, but then he lapses back into this guru thing. You know, he makes predictions about the bergs based on their sound. During a storm he listens to the creaking of the plastic. That’s what those drawings were about—oh, you were asleep. He’s predicted where the next rupture is going to be.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The islands are a kind of a loose aggregate of plastic bergs. Sometimes they break apart and then rejoin in another couple of months. The worst is when they turn. If one of them turns, and you happen to be on it, then you’ll find yourself in the ocean with a very big chunk of plastic on your back.”

  “That sounds scary,” Liyang said, looking around her.

  “Come. I can show you where the next partition will be—according to Crab.”

  They followed a ridgeline north and then west to a broad hill. The wind smelled of salt, and in the far distance they saw a blue line of ocean and, to her surprise, several patches of green.

  “Dune grass?”

  “Why, yes. Small amounts of soil have blown onto the island. Crab even has a few pots of it. He raises miniature lime trees.

  “There.” He pointed to a wide mound north of them. “The next break should be along that line and to the east.”

  She looked at him
pointedly. “It occurs to me to ask where we are going after this.”

  He gave a devilish grin. “Why, to my boat, to see my etchings, of course.”

  “Why don’t you all live together? This is a dangerous place to be by yourself.”

  Adam laughed. “Some of the Chinese do live together. Madam Woo has her enclave on a distant barge.”

  “Is she the one who wants my chips?”

  “Ah, yes. Very enterprising, that one.”

  “Who is she?”

  “As far as we can tell, she was ousted from the Shanghai cartel, a gang or a tong I guess you call it.”

  “You don’t get fat on raw fish; she’s got to be getting calories somewhere.”

  “Obviously. It’s because of her that I saw your boat.”

  “Remind me to thank her.”

  “That nav/com unit I showed you was actually from parts Crab gave me. He asked me to keep track of boats that come and go from here. Madam Woo ran a boat until recently. Four of her men are missing, and it’s my guess that they got caught, or perhaps they ran out on her.”

  “Got caught doing what?”

  “Stealing or hijacking. There’s no money here, so her men have to simply take whatever they come across. Anyway, her wings have been clipped, and she’s chafing at the bit.”

  “I see you mix your metaphors, too,” said Liyang.

  “Only for appreciative audiences.”

  It was her turn to bow.

  “I must admit that I’m pleased you decided to . . . remain with me, but I fear that you are now on the wrong side of the second most powerful person in the Poly Islands.”

  The wind gusted, lifting Liyang’s straight black hair.

  Adam raised a finger. “Ah, the wind is up and when that happens the plastic tends to move a bit more. You can hear it creak, and at night, when it moves enough, it produces the most beautiful sight you will ever see: St. Elmo’s fire. Have you heard of it?”