by Hao Jingfang
They seemed to be always speaking with exclamation points.
“We must protest, march, demonstrate! We must tear down those buildings and return to nature! We must shout our rage and let our voices be heard!”
Luoying looked thoughtful and then asked, “Why can’t you just talk to the governments?”
“How can you trust governments?” They laughed. “You’re the granddaughter of a dictator. You may have faith in governments, but we don’t.”
At the time Luoying asked these questions, she didn’t care about the answers. She had journeyed with them for many days until they reached this uninhabited plateau, where they cooked over open fires surrounded by snowy fields that hadn’t be disturbed in ages, where they could gaze up at night and see the stars, usually invisible in the bright glow of Earth cities. She had no clear understanding of their purpose, but she was glad to chant their slogans and wave their banners. She was like a kid who had come along to have fun, not caring where they were headed or why, running ahead in her excitement without wavering.
Thinking back now, she realized how happy she had been in those days. Fully absorbed, with no need for reflection, she had followed her determined and passionate friends into marches and protests, screaming and shaking her fist—oh, such unfettered joy!
In the end they had been arrested on account of the damage they had done to the airport on the plateau. After three days in a crowded detention center, the protesters were released to be deported back to their countries. It wasn’t the most glorious ending, but they certainly made a lot of noise while it lasted. Laughing and hugging, they said goodbye to one another and scattered to the ends of the earth.
Luoying shook herself out of her reverie. She jumped onto the floor and ran barefoot to the screen on the wall, where she opened her mailbox.
Dear Eko,
I hope you’re well.
What’s happening with the movement you were going to start? I admire you and wish you all the best.
I wanted to ask you about the situation of the Reversionists on Earth. Do you know if they’ve launched any new movements or published any new manifestos? I once marched with them, and now I miss that time.
Thank you,
Luoying
Luoying pressed SEND and watched as the animation showed a letter flying away. She realized that she needed action. In fact, she didn’t even care about the system that much. The distinction between various systems didn’t seem all that important to her, and she didn’t share Chania’s visceral distaste for what she termed “the evil inherent in the system.” She was attracted by the idea of action itself. She liked the pure life force that came to the fore when one was devoted to some movement, a flash of release, in stark contrast to the habitual care, restraint, and self-consciousness of daily life. When one was acting as part of a movement, a person was full of life and unified with one’s will. She envied that state.
She thought about the movement they had discussed and made her decision. No matter what, she was going to try. She was only eighteen, standing at the threshold of the world. They were unsatisfied with the world, and this was perhaps their only opportunity to fight it. She thought and thought, and said yes.
* * *
The location selected for the final meeting before they launched the movement was a place Luoying both craved to be in and wanted to avoid at all costs: her parents’ study. Rudy was the one who invited Chania, Luoying, and all the other participants to come. Luoying was surprised at how seriously her brother seemed to be taking all of this.
She did have some reservations. After so many days back, the study had become a vast and intricate garden in her mind. She had stayed away from the room, uncertain what she was afraid of—no, certainly not the objects that served as memorials to her parents—but she was reluctant to face the objects whose significance she had devoted so much energy to pursue. Perhaps because she had been so relentless in her initial quest, the obstacles she had encountered had pushed her to the other extreme. After Rudy pushed open the door and entered, she followed without speaking. Dragging her feet a bit, she passed Chania, Runge, and Sorin. No one noticed her hesitation.
The room was still as quiet as she remembered.
On the long desk next to the wall lay paintbrushes, sculpting knives, and a tea set that hadn’t been cleared away, as though a noisy party had just concluded. Everything in the room appeared hazy, like antiques. The slanting rays of sunlight, filtered through the turquoise curtains, refracted into a cold arc. Where sunlight didn’t reach, shadows stretched deep, making the lit area next to the window even brighter by contrast, endowing it with an otherworldly glow.
“Sit! Please, sit!” Rudy gestured to everyone.
Luoying watched as everyone took their seats around the low bookcases in the middle. Her brother was next to Chania, while Sorin and Runge sat opposite them. There was one person leaning against the bookcases, another who had their feet on a shelf, elbows supported on their legs.
She shuddered, startled. Everything, the postures and expressions, seemed to match the hazy memory in her head. When she was little, she had witnessed a scene just like this as she sat quietly to the side. Those enthusiastic figures had been sitting around this room, excitedly discussing topics that transcended reality.
Luoying watched them. Chania cocked her head as she surveyed the paintings hanging around the room, her long hair draping behind like a waterfall, her face curious and eager. Sorin and Runge were reading the titles on the bookcases and whispering to each other. Rudy stood leaning against a bookcase. Casually dressed, he appeared handsome and confident as he smiled at them.
“Have you decided on a day for the protest?” he asked Chania.
“Not yet. We’re thinking four or maybe five days from now.”
“How about Sunday?” Rudy asked. “There’s a session of the Boule on that day, which will gain us more attention.”
“Wouldn’t that seem a bit too provocative?” Sorin looked concerned.
“Don’t worry,” said Rudy. “I guarantee you’ll be safe. The question is whether you have the courage to face them head-on.”
Chania lifted her eyebrows challengingly. “What’s there to be scared of?”
Luoying said nothing. She had no desire to speak at all. In fact, she found herself trapped in a sensation of being in two places and times at once. The scene around her felt unreal. The beige bookcases were veiled in a gossamer woven from golden sun rays, while the photos on the walls came to life as reflections of reality. Her mother was making a speech in the air, her black eyes and black hair aglow from her fervor. On the other side, her father sat with his elbows on his knees, explicating something deliberately. Their figures overlapped with her friends’, and they looked right through her. There was another person in the room, the man named Arthur. He was quiet and had curly hair, and Luoying had few memories of him—though she did recall how he had once patted her head and told her the story of Sinbad the Sailor. Their faces and figures floated in the air like transparent ghosts surrounding them. On a shelf next to the window stood the unfinished sculptures, time travelers who had traversed ten years.
“I don’t care what day we hold the protest,” said Chania, staring at Rudy. “But I want to know, why are you helping us?”
Rudy smiled. “Do you want to hear the truth?”
“Of course.”
“One reason is that I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Chania smirked. “I don’t believe you, but thanks.”
“Another reason is that I agree with you.” Rudy continued to smile confidently. “For some time now I’ve been thinking of reforming the system, but I’ve always kept those thoughts to myself out of fear of giving offense. All the problems you’ve pointed out—institutional inflexibility, excessive conformity to one approach, lack of individual freedom, and so on—I agree with all the critiques! For instance, you mention the administrative system that operates like a fixed circuit. But in my view, it’s n
ot just the administration but all of our institutions that are controlled like circuits. There is no freedom for the individual. From one atelier to another, we are just interchangeable components functioning according to our specifications, without the need for souls. In order to achieve a better world, we can’t pretend to be blind to its faults.”
Sorin frowned. “But … you’re expanding on our proposals. We weren’t thinking of getting involved in areas we don’t understand. The engineering institutions, for example, are too complex for us. Actually, isn’t there a system in place now that allows the various labs to associate freely and apply for project funding together?”
“There is such a system,” said Rudy. “But I don’t think you fully appreciate the implications. If you imagine each lab as an electronic component—resistor, capacitor, quantum transistor, or whatever—then so-called free association is just each component melding itself into the circuit, hoping to become a part of the next big circuit. And once the project is funded, all that’s left is repetition and obedience. Do you know who benefits from a system like this? Only the aged who already have fame and accomplishments. Once they gain the power to design the next generation of social circuitry, they’ll use their authority to force others to travel along paths they plan out. They have too much power! The problems you’ve identified aren’t limited to administration but touch upon the very philosophy of the functioning of society. If we’re to start a movement, we can’t be too timid. We must be direct and forceful, plunging into the heart of this world like a sharpened knife.”
No one spoke in the ensuing silence. Chania squinted and gazed at Rudy thoughtfully. Sorin and Runge looked at each other.
Runge spoke up first. “I think the problem you’re describing stems from the disease of ‘great accomplishments dementia’—an unreasoning obsession with doing great deeds.”
“So do you agree?” asked Rudy cautiously.
Runge didn’t answer him directly. “But we don’t know what you want to do about it.”
“What I want to do about it?” A dark glint flashed in Rudy’s eyes. Slowly he paced to the other side of the study and activated a small wall panel. He selected a few options on the screen, swung his hand down forcefully, and then pushed a button. Then he swept his arm across the blank wall as though sketching out some burning mural of change before turning to say in a cold voice, “What I want to do is the same thing my parents did: start a revolution.”
Luoying gasped.
She stared at the wall that Rudy had swept across. The whole wall showed an old photograph of their parents. The pair were dressed formally but with their collars and cuffs unbuttoned to show an air of careless grace. They stood shoulder to shoulder, their expressions full of fervor. Behind them were two immense mining vehicles like monsters at rest, waiting for orders. From the vehicles draped giant posters the size of theater curtains, filled with images of banners, gods, and crowds of people. On the bottoms of the posters, in jumbo letters, appeared the slogan WE DON’T WANT CORRUPT REPRESSION!
Other photographs appeared on the wall. More people: some running in a crowd; some making speeches before audiences; some raising banners with animated images; some standing around Quentin and Adele, their eyes on the pair. In all the photos, there were signs saying FAIRNESS and the like, some of which were even humorous. The crowds were never very big, but the ardor, like boiling water, bubbled out of the images.
Luoying was amazed. She approached the wall slowly, as though trying to walk into the pictures. Rudy had already forgotten the photographs as the discussion continued. Chania was talking, but Luoying heard nothing. She pressed a hand against the wall, trying to caress the faces of her parents through time.
Abruptly, she ran out of the study to get her holographic glasses. She hadn’t entered the full-fidelity virtual world in a while, but never before had it held such allure for her. She put on her glasses and tried to overcome the vertigo as she looked around, trying to identify where she was and who she was with.
She didn’t see the place where her parents had gathered with the other protesters. In fact, she didn’t see her parents. Whether due to an error in her selection or because the photographs weren’t associated with a full-fidelity data source, the program automatically placed her elsewhere. Instead of the scene she was hoping to see, she found herself in a stately but slightly dim hall with tiers of seats around, filled by many silent people. She recognized it as the Boule Chamber. The silence around her felt oppressive.
Uninterested, she was about to depart the replay to search for more scenes involving her parents in the directory, but at that moment she saw her grandfather. He entered from a side door and strode onto the raised dais with confident steps. A column of elders followed him.
Hans began to make a speech, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. The scene had no sound—or maybe there was but she couldn’t find a way to turn it on. She could see that his expression was very calm, but occasional traces of sorrow, exhaustion, or remorse flickered across his face. The speech seemed like an explanation, or perhaps a confession. Then he took off the gleaming medal he wore on his chest, set it down gently on the podium, and looked around the hall.
Next she saw Uncle Juan. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but the scene shifted abruptly. Uncle Juan stood up from his seat and gestured with his hands. Everyone in the hall looked where he was pointing. Luoying couldn’t see what had attracted their attention, but she saw that Juan’s expression was somber, even angry. His dark face was filled with a cold strength that no one dared to challenge. He held up his hands and pressed them downward as though bringing a weight over the whole chamber.
Luoying wanted to see more, but the scene blacked out abruptly.
She took off the glasses and saw Rudy standing in front of her. He had turned off the control screen, and the wall behind her was empty. He took the glasses from her. She tried to grab them back, but he held her at bay and put the glasses away. There was no anger on his face, but his determined attitude brooked no disagreement. He shook his head at her, his expression gentle but superior, as though saying, I’m doing this for your own good.
She shook her head angrily. Ever since the incident with her dance costume, she hated Rudy’s condescending attitude more than anything else. She looked at him pleadingly, but he had already turned around and was walking out of the study.
Only then did Luoying realize that the study was empty. The others had already left.
She chased after him. At the bannister she called out, “Rudy! What was that?”
Rudy paused on the stairs and looked up at her. “What are you talking about?”
“The recordings, the photographs, everything I saw!”
“I have no idea what you saw.”
“What happened to you? Why did you change so suddenly? Two months ago you said you were against revolution.”
“Did I?”
“You did! I asked you why Grandfather suppressed the protests. You said they were too dangerous and that suppression was the right thing to do.”
“Hmm.” Rudy looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe I did say that. I can’t remember.”
Luoying hesitated for a beat. “I think you’ve changed.”
A smirk. “I know what I’m doing.”
They descended the stairs quietly. Chania and the others were already at the door and waving goodbye to them. Rudy approached them and seemed to make more plans, but Luoying was in no mood to pay attention. Confused images circled in her mind, more real than the reality around her.
* * *
The next day Luoying came to the First Flight Center of North District.
She had never been here. The flight center was a grand and magnificent building with few visitors. The ceiling of the vast circular hall was held up by forty silver-gray columns, and the floor was crisscrossed by moving walkways that were still at the moment. Around the edge of the hall, various pieces of equipment and instruments beeped and chirped quietly. E
verything was the model of order and discipline.
Luoying saw Anka from a distance. He was busy with something and didn’t see her. Luoying had looked up the schedule ahead of time and knew that today he was on duty alone. As she approached, she saw that Anka was trying to repair something in front of him, and his broad back resembled a little hill.
Gently, she crossed the vast hall. Two brand-new aircraft rested next to each other. Silver in color, with aerodynamic curves and smooth hulls, they resembled two elegant dolphins lying on a beach. Steel racks stood around the hall, with robotic arms folded neatly at rest, exuding a stately presence. There was no one else here except Anka, and the blinking lights on the walls—indicating surveillance cameras—were his only companions.
Anka was on one knee next to a shelf at the wall, elbows on the ground, trying to put something together. Before him, a white object lay in two pieces like the two halves of a broken eggshell. One half was almost empty, while the other half was filled with electronic components.
“Anka,” Luoying said softly.
Anka turned around, surprised. He wiped away a bead of sweat from his nose with the back of one hand, which left a smudge.
“Are you still repairing your fighter?”
“Yeah. Working on the navigator now. Almost done.”
“You’ll be able to fly it after?”
“I hope so.”
He looked exhausted but still focused. She wasn’t sure how to encourage or comfort him.
“You have to fix everything by hand like this?”
“No. I can’t open the sealed integrated components. For those I have to reserve time at the repair station and use the waldos.”
“Sounds hard.”
“There’s no choice.”
“Captain Fitz still won’t give you a working plane?”
“He said he would if I apologized publicly.”
“I see.”
Anka smiled at her, as though Fitz’s harassment didn’t bother him. He knelt down again and returned to his task. Luoying sat down on a tool chest next to him, watching him quietly.