by Hao Jingfang
When Rudy found Chania, she was making posters for the salon. She didn’t hear him approach, and when she looked up, he was already standing right in front of her. It was too late to hide what she was painting.
“Keep on working. I won’t bother you.” Rudy smiled at her in a way meant to be disarming.
“Can I help you?” Chania stared at him.
“Oh, I just wanted to chat.”
Chania bit her bottom lip mistrustfully.
“What are you making?” Rudy asked.
“A poster.”
“It’s so rare to see people paint by hand now. Why don’t you do it digitally?”
“I don’t like how digital paintings look.”
Chania kept her answers curt without revealing her real motivation. She didn’t want to leave any signs or clues in the central archive before the gathering. Public or private spaces in the central archive were the same in her eyes, because those in charge of the system could watch over anything taking place in the system. Yes, there were regulations against invasion of privacy, but she didn’t trust them.
“What are the posters for?” Rudy continued to smile, his hands jauntily stuck in his pockets.
“How did you know I was here?” Chania was unsure of Rudy’s motives or the extent of his knowledge. This made her feel unsafe.
“If I told you I was just passing by, would you believe me?”
“No.”
Rudy laughed. “All right, I admit it. Luoying told me that sometimes you meet here in the afternoons.”
“What else did she tell you?”
“Nothing! Really. I asked her about your plans, but her lips were sealed.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to see you.”
Rudy gazed at her, his eyes burning with suppressed desire. Chania looked back, and a mocking smile turned up the corners of her mouth. She could tell that he was trying his habitual tricks on her. She found the whole thing ridiculous. She wasn’t interested in being a fortress for him to storm, to conquer, and she had no desire to see him try.
She lowered her head and picked up the paintbrush again. Since she had no artistic training, she was simply adding some decorative borders on the large letters. The strokes in the letters were angular and forceful, like a column of soldiers ready to fight.
“ ‘Give me liberty or give me death,’ ” Rudy read. “Why are you writing that?”
“It’s for a salon. A book discussion club.”
“What will you be discussing?”
“Whether we really have freedom.”
“Do you think we’re not free?”
“We haven’t had the discussion yet,” said Chania coldly. “How am I supposed to have reached a conclusion?”
“How do you define ‘freedom’?”
“The ability to determine one’s own fate.”
“But it’s impossible to ever overcome the role of chance! Often an individual can’t determine everything.”
“As long as someone doesn’t deliberately stand in the way, it’s enough.”
Rudy enjoyed this conversation. He came around to Chania’s side, put one hand down on the table, and leaned over her shoulder. They were in the middle of a park built around an interchange station. The two large glass tables and the cubical stools made the setting convenient for small gatherings and for painting posters. Rudy’s blond hair shone in the sun, but Chania refused to look up.
“Oh, I just remembered,” said Rudy. “Last time, at the hospital, you expressed some opinions about your experience studying on Earth. I wrote up a report for the Boule.”
Chania looked up, alarmed. “What did you write in it?”
“I explained that the pressures of adjusting to the new environment caused a lot of psychological pain for all of you. I suggested that the educational committee reevaluate the program comprehensively. Future students should be given much more preparation and counseling beforehand.”
Chania lowered her head again. “You didn’t understand what I said.”
“What did you mean, then?”
“I was talking about the very idea of studying on Earth, not these insignificant details.”
“So you are saying you shouldn’t have been sent at all?”
“There’s no way for you to understand. We saw a whole other world; it doesn’t matter how we adjust to it. There’s no way for us to come back. We can no longer tolerate …” She hesitated, searching for the right word. “Rigidity.”
“I can understand,” said Rudy. “Techno-bureaucratism.”
“Yes, that’s it!”
Rudy nodded. “I despise it, too.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I’ve written multiple articles arguing against the current system.”
Chania put her elbows on the table and looked sideways and up at Rudy. After a while she said, “Then I’ll tell you the truth. The salon is actually a gathering to start a movement against this kind of techno-bureaucratism. We want to advocate for the free transfer of housing and atelier affiliations so that no one has to be stuck in one place.”
“Oh?” Rudy’s eyes brightened. “That sounds great.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely. That would be a very good change.” Rudy’s voice was full of conviction. “Count me in! I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”
After a moment of hesitation, Chania nodded. She was trying to figure out what Rudy really thought—how much of his enthusiasm was genuinely because he thought as they did, and how much of it was because he wanted to get close to her. But she realized that even if he were motivated by the latter, it was no big deal. Their goal was to get the support of as many people as possible. Since he was the consul’s grandson, his support would legitimize the movement and persuade more people. Having worked this out in her mind, she grew less guarded.
Though she didn’t show him any signs of being particularly welcoming, when he reached out to help her move aside the completed poster, she didn’t tell him to stop.
* * *
The next day Chania told Luoying what had happened. They talked as they walked to the housing office together.
Luoying wasn’t surprised by her brother’s interest, but she hadn’t anticipated his supportive attitude.
“A month ago, when I mentioned the idea of revolution, he was totally against it.”
“I don’t know what he’s really thinking,” said Chania, “but he did say he hated techno-bureaucratism, too.”
“That’s possible,” said Luoying. “Rudy has always chafed under his supervisors. I remember him complaining to me about the administrative structure, too.”
The two were walking slowly toward the social activity center of Russell District. Since it wasn’t the weekend, few people were at the activity center. On weekends these circular rooms served as meeting places for art clubs, gourmet clubs, community dance troupes, and so forth, but during the week they were mostly empty. Through the closed windows one could see the remains of the last activity in each room, waiting to be picked up again the next weekend.
The road to the activity center led straight south. In the middle of the road was a strip of lawn lined with trees; the shaded lanes were ideal for pedestrians.
“Your brother also pledged to help us.”
“What does he have in mind?”
“He didn’t say. He just said that he would help in any way he could.”
“That’s good.”
“I don’t know how serious he really was.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Luoying said with a grin. “Even if he didn’t mean it, he said it so he could spend more time with you. But if he actually spends more time with you, he can’t go back on his word. So we’ve got his help no matter what.”
Chania blushed. “What are you talking about?”
Luoying giggled and ran ahead. “If it works out, I suppose I’ll have to call you sister-in-law someday.”
&nb
sp; “As if I want to be your sister-in-law!”
“Don’t you like my brother?”
“I don’t like anyone.”
“Not even Sorin?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve told you already,” said Chania in a determined voice, “I don’t believe in love.”
“You’re much too young to say something like that.”
“Well, I don’t. I agree with Runge that everyone is motivated by self-interest. What we call love is always disguised selfishness in the service of some agenda.”
“What do you think is Rudy’s agenda?”
“I don’t know,” said Chania. “People can be very indirect. Maybe he’s a vain man used to everyone stroking his ego. Here I am, not moved by him, so he views me as a challenge, a potential conquest to prove himself.”
“At least it demonstrates the power of your allure.”
“Oh, please. There are only two possibilities: one, it’s a momentary impulse on his part; two, he’s in love with himself.”
“How did you get to be so extreme?” Luoying sighed. “Sorin is right about you.”
“And you’re too naïve,” said Chania. “Let me ask you: Do you trust how Anka feels about you?”
Luoying, caught off guard by the question, had to collect herself before brushing off the question with a careless laugh. “Don’t change the subject to me … Do you think Anka is unreliable?”
“No, it’s not about him. Feelings cannot be trusted, period.”
“Did you hear something?”
“No. I’m just asking you: How can you be sure he loves you? Has he ever said so?”
“No.”
“Then can you be sure that he’s someone who believes in love?”
“I think he is.”
“We believe him only because we are familiar with him. But that’s no proof.”
“What proof can there be?”
“There can’t be any,” said Chania, shrugging. “That’s the point. So-called love is no more than emotional reactions when two people are together. But after the impulses subside, there’s nothing.”
“How did you become such a theoretician of love?”
Luoying acted like she didn’t care, but her voice betrayed a lack of confidence. She kept her eyes on the road, her lips pressed together. Chania glanced at her from the side and waved a hand before her eyes. Luoying turned to smile at her, and Chania responded with a smile, too.
The two kept on walking in silence for some time, confusion and doubt plaguing both. Chania wasn’t sure if she was absolutely right. She thought that her problem was that she wanted to see through everything, while Luoying wanted to see through nothing. While she couldn’t really make herself see through everything, Luoying couldn’t make herself not see through anything. Though neither of them talked about it, both were aware of the irony.
Should I trust just once? Chania asked herself. Should I believe just once in unselfish benevolence and sincerity?
“No matter what,” said Luoying, as though hearing Chania’s silent monologue, “I choose to believe. And I hope you will also believe at least once, no matter who you choose.”
Chania was silent for a beat, then she smiled gently at Luoying. “All right, let’s hope for that.”
The housing registration office was on the second floor of the activity center. A middle-aged woman sat alone in the rather large space, which made the place seem especially empty. In fact, no one was on duty there on a regular basis, and only by appointment would a temporary worker show up, which explained the simplicity of the facilities and the lack of amenities. In the middle of the circular office was an empty rectangular desk. The woman sat behind it.
“Who needs to register?” the woman asked them, smiling. She looked at Luoying and Chania over her glasses, shifting her gaze from one to the other. A hint of suspicion peeked through her polite demeanor.
“We’re here to apply on behalf of a friend,” said Chania.
“Why isn’t he here himself?”
“Er …” Chania looked to Luoying. “This is a surprise gift for him.”
The woman laughed at their ignorance. “Kids, I can’t help you with that. We don’t allow anyone except the applicant himself to go through the process. He has to verify the contract with his fingerprints. Why do you think we have this office instead of doing everything electronically through the central archive? The physical presence of the applicant is required.”
Luoying and Chania looked at each other. Neither had anticipated this being an issue.
“Can’t we just fill out the forms for him first and then bring him here later?” asked Luoying.
“We just want to help him build a small house, a tiny one,” said Chania.
“We’ll do the work ourselves,” said Luoying. “We’ve already been to the construction office to reserve the materials and pick out a style. They told us that we have to come here first to register a site. Once that’s done, construction can begin right away.”
“Please,” said Chania, “you’ve got to help us. Our friend has been such a big help to all of us, and we want to do something nice.”
“Pretty please?” added Luoying.
Throughout this appeal, the woman listened intently. From time to time she looked ready to interrupt, but stayed quiet until the girls were done and looked at her expectantly. She took off her glasses and held them, her expression full of understanding but also helplessness. She put her elbows on the table, spread her hands, and spoke in a gentle tone.
“I’d love to help you, but registration requires fingerprint authorization. Let me think. Can you bring his marriage registration certificate?”
Luoying looked abashed. “That’s … I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Then I can’t help you. I can use the official documentation from the marriage office to register a site, but that’s the only other way.”
“He’s not married, though.”
“Not married?”
“No.”
“Then why would he need a house? He should be assigned a dorm unit for singles.”
“He is assigned to one, but it’s too small. Before, when he had his social clubs and laboratory, it was no big deal. But now he’s been deprived of everything. We think he has too little space, and we just want to help him out by giving him a little more room of his own.”
The woman opened her mouth, and that look of helpless understanding appeared on her face again. She seemed to be struggling to explain. A moment later she grabbed a sheet of paper and started to draw some simple circuits.
“I don’t know how to explain this to you.” Her voice was kind. “Let me try this way … This office is like this resistor, or this diode … sorry, my specialization is in electronics, so I think of it this way … Our job is to receive documents from the office before us and then pass the new documents to the next office, the same way electricity flows through this resistor to the next component. A resistor can’t make any decision on its own to generate an electron out of nowhere. That’s the job of the power source. If a resistor starts to create electrons on its own, the circuit won’t work. I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”
The simple but honest explanation chilled the air instantly.
Chania bit her bottom lip, still trying to find a way around this “resistor,” but Luoying grabbed her by the hand and shook her head. “Forget it.”
She turned to the woman. “Thank you. Do you have a suggestion for where we should go, then?”
The woman thought for a moment. “I think it’s best you go to the marriage office and make some inquiries. Helping him get married is most important. Once he’s married, the couple will naturally get a house.”
Luoying and Chania walked through the wide empty corridors, not paying any attention to the publicity posters all over the walls. The marriage registration office was in the same building, and they followed the gently curving corridor, went up some stai
rs, and hoped that the attempt would yield something.
They bumped into a shut door. No one was in. Since they hadn’t made an appointment, this wasn’t unexpected. They were hoping for good luck, but luck wasn’t interested. Through the glass door they peeked at the office inside. A white decorative table filled with artificial flowers stood on one side of the room, and many framed photographs hung on the walls.
An old woman came down the stairs behind them.
“Hello!” Luoying called to her. “Can you help us? Do you know if this office …”
She looked over at Chania, uncertain how to continue.
The old woman smiled at them kindly. “What are you interested in?”
Chania jumped in. “Do you know if this office can make introductions to potential marriage partners?”
The old woman looked at them curiously. “You?”
“No! Not for us,” Chania said hurriedly. “For a friend.”
“Oh. Why doesn’t he just go to one of the singles parties? There’s one every weekend.”
“He doesn’t like that sort of thing.”
“Hmm, let me think.” The old woman was apparently taking up this task enthusiastically. “What atelier is he with?”
“He doesn’t have an atelier right now.”
“Doesn’t have one?” The old woman frowned at this impossible fact.
“He’s helping out at the Registry of Files.”
“I see.” The old woman pondered the matter for a moment. “Young lady, based on my experience, I must say this is a very, very difficult task. Not impossible, mind you”—she paused, then added—“but very difficult.”
The old woman’s gaze embarrassed them. Luoying looked at Chania, and Chania looked at Luoying.
* * *
Later in the afternoon, as the pair walked toward First Hospital, Chania had entirely forgotten the tiny concession she had made to the possibility of love earlier that day. Once again she had returned to her cold and steadfast refusal to believe. She had in the past vacillated between the two positions, and refusal to believe made her feel safer. To be without expectations was also to be without disappointment and worry. She was her old self, convinced that behind all protestations of love there was only the pursuit of material gain.