Vagabonds

by Hao Jingfang

  “I’ll go over the details and the technical data now …”

  The audience whispered excitedly. He pretended not to notice. He knew that his presentation would be controversial, and he didn’t care. He had made his decision against pressure from all sides, not just for Gielle, but also for the resolve that had long been buried in his heart.

  He glanced around the chamber and realized that Gielle was absent. His heart throbbed. He didn’t like to feel this way; he had hoped that he would be able to remain aloof, uncaring. But the pain stabbed him in the chest again and again as he looked for Gielle and couldn’t find her.

  SORIN

  Sorin had not anticipated so many showing up at the demonstration. He had planned things out at the site, but so many people were showing up that his plan was in tatters. A sense of foreboding troubled him.

  Runge was still in the middle of his speech. Sorin watched his angular profile, wondering if he realized the situation had changed. Runge never worried about anything, but Sorin wasn’t like that. He knew that a stage with too many actors was no longer under the control of the director; all kinds of unanticipated things happened when the crowd swelled beyond a certain size. He was thirsty, but he couldn’t find any water—actually, he was in no mood to look for water. He continued to survey the plaza tensely.

  “Luoying!”

  He turned and saw a redheaded girl running over, excitedly greeting Luoying. Sorin thought she looked familiar.

  “Gielle! What are you doing here?”

  “Rudy asked us to come.”

  “My brother?” Luoying was even more surprised.

  “He told us that your rally is really important and needs more supporters. He wanted all of us to come.”

  “When did he say this?”

  “Yesterday afternoon.”

  Luoying frowned. “I don’t know why he didn’t say anything about it to me. I saw him just half an hour ago, and he told me nothing.”

  “Probably because he was too busy. You know how in demand he is.”

  Luoying looked troubled. Gielle looked about eagerly, peppering Luoying with questions. Soon her attention was seized by Runge. The dozens of other youths who had come with her had scattered and merged into the crowd. Most joined the audience around Runge, but some were asking other demonstrators whether they needed help.

  Sorin did some mental math. There were less than twenty people here from the Mercury Group. Earlier, about thirty or forty passersby had stopped to listen. Now, with the addition of all these new people, the tiny plaza was holding more than a hundred people. It wouldn’t have been an issue in a larger space, but they had chosen to conduct their protest at a regular tube train interchange park. Though the park was already very crowded, more people continued to emerge from the train station, looking at the hubbub curiously. They came up to ask the people already there what was going on, and stayed.

  As the crowd continued to swell, the banners and animated posters were being pushed into a corner. Almost all the footpaths through the plaza had been blocked off. Sorin grew even more concerned. Any unanticipated disorder was bound to turn into trouble.

  Runge continued his oration, his impassioned delivery unchanged by the growing audience.

  “In our world, control and obedience have reached unprecedented proportions. In the past, those in power controlled their subjects in basically three ways: traditional authority, embodied in a patriarch; harsh laws enforced by the threat of force; and personal charisma. But our world is different. It has evolved into a massive, complex circuit in which every administrative department is a component and every individual an electron. All we can do is obey, obey the voltage differential, obey the planned design. There is no refusal and no escape, and all spontaneous actions are unacceptable.

  “For an individual, to build a shelter is without a doubt one of the basic tenets of personal freedom, and all are born with such a natural right. But in our world the system has stripped us of this right and placed it under its strict control. To build a house, one must follow the system’s regulations, apply for the system’s approval, submit to the system’s decision, and live wherever the system says to like a nail being pounded into place. No matter how kind or honest you are, no matter how many friends are willing to help you, you cannot change your fate. What kind of world is this? We do not want it! We don’t want the system to decide our lives! We want to breathe the air of our own land in freedom!”

  “Yes! Yes!” A couple of new arrivals who hadn’t heard the rest of his speech applauded. More people joined them.

  Listening to Runge’s voice, strong, rational, clear, Sorin could feel its power. Runge didn’t appeal to pathos, but his view came through clearly and persuasively. The audience listened intently, and some whispered to one another. It was clear that the whisperers weren’t mocking him or bored but seriously discussing his points. That was the goal of the demonstration. The movement ought to be considered at least partially successful.

  But Sorin didn’t feel good. In part it was because his sense of foreboding was growing stronger by the minute. In part it was also because he could see that those at the demonstration were now starting to act on their own. The mood of the youths had been growing more and more agitated, like a pot starting to boil, with streams of bubbles rising to the surface. Some were gathering in a small circle; some were waving banners at the edge of the plaza; some were shouting slogans along with jokes at someone’s expense. Sorin guessed that the barbs were aimed at their teacher, always a good target at a protest.

  Sorin didn’t want to see any of these things. He had been opposed to a public demonstration and, in the end, had agreed to organize it only because Chania insisted that the protest would be a venue for peaceful discussions, a salon to stimulate the people into reflecting on their system and the philosophy of governance. He had always played the role of the organizer in the group, and the others trusted him. He had tried to plan for everything, but he never anticipated the growing chaos. He had no idea if Chania knew this was going to happen, and that caused him even more anxiety. Did she deliberately keep from me what she thought was going to happen?

  He couldn’t tell what the effect of Rudy’s participation was either. Watching Rudy and Chania discuss the demonstration on their own had made him a bit jealous; he had never seen Chania so influenced by someone else. Sorin knew that both Runge and Chania hoped for the protest to make a big splash, the bigger the better, but he didn’t. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he agreed with the theme of Runge’s speech. He felt that the two matters—the freedom to build one’s own house and the circuit-like operation of society—were two distinct matters, and he wasn’t sure that twisting them together was the right thing to do. It might even confuse the issues. He was hoping for discussion, for more clarity, but it was obvious that the others didn’t share these goals. Chania was absolutely convinced that a revolution was the only desirable outcome.

  At that moment Chania seemed to be engaged in some heated argument with Luoying. Sorin pushed his way through the crowd, hoping to talk with them. They didn’t notice him as he approached from behind, and he caught the last few snatches of their conversation.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” demanded Luoying.

  “I figured you wouldn’t agree,” said Chania.

  “But why? Why have you done this?”

  “We need supporters, don’t we?”

  Sorin’s heart clenched. It seemed that Chania did know. Rudy must have told her about his plan to send Gielle and the others, or maybe the two of them had planned it together. He was angry that he had been excluded from their scheme. In his shock, he missed the next few exchanges in the conversation.

  “So you’ve decided to believe in it this time?” asked Luoying.

  “You said you hoped I would believe at least once, right?” Chania’s tone was awkward.

  “But what caused such a sudden change?”

  “Call it … a kind of passion.”

  Chania s
topped, as though unwilling to discuss the matter anymore. She bent down and began to push a large video poster through the crowd toward Runge so that it would be closer to the heart of the audience. She put her back into it and kept her eyes on the ground, as though trying to escape the argument behind her. Sorin and Luoying watched her, a bit amazed at her strength and agility as she maneuvered the heavy cart.

  Was she talking about Rudy? thought Sorin. Did she really believe him because of “passion”? Chania had always been so stubborn and mistrusted everyone. Why did she believe Rudy? Was it because Rudy spoke in such an impassioned manner? Or because he had done what she thought was necessary?

  Sorin looked back at Luoying. She hadn’t noticed him at all but kept her attention on Chania. Her hand was raised next to her mouth, making her look deep in thought. Luoying was dressed in a white chiton; the protesters had the idea of having someone dress in a manner to evoke the spirit of classical Greece for their rally. As she stood still in the midst of the agitated crowd, glowing white, she reminded Sorin of someone from the ancient past, not a part of the everyday surroundings.

  Sorin was about to go up to talk to her when a disturbance drew everyone’s attention.

  He saw that a fight had broken out between a few youths who had stepped on one another’s feet due to the crowding. The argument was loud but not serious. He sighed with relief.

  But the fight didn’t peter out as he had hoped. The accident seemed to uncap some pent-up energy among the attendees. More voices rose around the plaza, and other arguments began, like a spark spreading across a grassland plagued by drought. Someone shouted, and many cheered in response. More people pushed their way into the small plaza. A few youths argued with adults; perhaps their parents trying to get them to go home? The youths shook off the hands of the adults and shouted defiantly, their eyes aglow. The noise of the crowd made it impossible to hear any conversation clearly.

  Sorin was now really worried. The rally was already too large, and seeing kids arguing with their parents made things worse. He had no idea how this was going to develop. He disliked any situation in which he lost control and couldn’t predict the outcome.

  One voice managed to make itself heard over the noise:

  “Let’s go to Capitol Square! There’s lots more room there! The Boule is in session today. Let’s get their attention!”

  “Hooray!” the crowd cheered. The youths, their energy at the boiling point, now exploded into action like a raging flame. Shouting, laughing, exclaiming, they began to move. Soon, the young protesters had coalesced into a mighty river. With banners and posters above their heads, they pushed forward like a ragtag army, squeezed onto the street like a torrent pouring through a sluice in the dam.

  Sorin was astounded. To go to the Boule was a naked provocation. He wanted to stop the situation from worsening, but he found himself caught in an excited mob, unable to do anything. He saw Luoying standing still in the throng like a marble column.

  If anyone can influence the situation now, it’s her.

  “Luoying!” He pushed his way through the crowd to her.

  She glanced at him, looking nonplussed.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Tell me,” she said, “if you think someone has done something very wrong but he’s also your closest family, what would you do?”

  Sorin hesitated for a moment. “Are you talking about your brother?”

  Luoying nodded. “I don’t understand why he has done this.”

  “You mean the people who he sent to our rally?”

  “That’s not the only thing.” Luoying looked worried. “I have a feeling that he’s made many other arrangements. Even the boy who just now shouted we should all go to Capitol Square—I think my brother had him do that.”

  “What? Do you know the boy?”

  “I think I saw him once at our house. I can’t be sure; I can’t be sure of anything. But I’m scared. I don’t know why he’s doing all this.”

  “Can you stop everyone?”

  Luoying stared at him. “How can I?”

  “Tell them you think this is a bad idea.” Sorin tried to make his voice comforting but determined. “You have this power. Everyone knows you, and if you say it, they’ll listen to you.”

  “But I don’t know if I should stop them,” said Luoying. “This has always troubled me. I don’t know if a person should try to make something happen, to try to fix the world’s flaws. Chania’s devotion to her ideal is real. I don’t like the way my brother has done this, but I can’t stop him.”

  Luoying’s doubt and hesitation were laid bare in her eyes. Sorin never knew that hesitation and doubt could be communicated so clearly. He saw what was troubling her, but, like her, he had no answers. As the protesters streamed out of the plaza, the two of them were left behind. Troubled by different thoughts, they tarried in the same manner, uncertain whether they should follow.

  Sorin realized that he was no longer the director. From the moment the stage was ready and the actors made their entrance, the drama had escaped his control. He had been abandoned by his actors. They wanted fervor, not a conservative director full of anxiety. He looked at the lawn and footpaths, strewn with pieces of trash, and knew that it wasn’t his play any longer. He bent down to pick up the pieces, and Luoying helped him.

  “Let’s go with them,” she said.

  Sorin nodded. Together they ran to join the laughing, running demonstrators.

  LUOYING

  The longer they stayed at Capitol Square, the more Luoying wavered, uncertain whether to advance or to retreat.

  The square was filled with fervent youths shouting and jumping, generating a heat that had not been seen in years. Usually the square was quiet, dignified, and somber, but now it was noisy, chaotic, agitated. Banners flapped with song, and frenzied youths laughed even as they screamed in rage.

  Luoying stood to the side. One moment she wanted to impulsively jump into the chanting swarm; a moment later she wanted to ask everyone to calm down and go home. They reminded her of the time when she had marched and sang and laughed with the Reversionists. She missed the sense of being alive.

  But at this moment she couldn’t lose herself in the frenzy. The protesters had been brought here by her brother’s inspiring, passionate words, but now they danced and chanted and screamed as though it had been their own idea. Something about all this felt wrong. She couldn’t articulate why, but it felt wrong.

  She knew that excitement was infectious. There was no need to know the source of the excitement, only to feel the sensation. On the way here, more youths who had somehow heard about the demonstration had joined them, and now hundreds were in the square, covering a large area. They were fired up, as fired up as they would be for a dance party or the Creativity Fair. They surrounded Runge and Chania, waving giant posters.

  “Re-form! Free-dom! Re-form! Free-dom!” they chanted.

  Where was Rudy?

  Luoying suddenly saw about a dozen people in uniform walk out of the side door of the Boule Building, heading for the demonstrating youths. As they approached, they separated to the sides of the square. She couldn’t hear what they were saying to the youths in front, but she could see those around her pushing forward. She ran sideways to the edge of the crowd and tried to get ahead.

  “What’s happening?” she asked someone next to her.

  No one answered her. It was just too noisy and chaotic. But as Luoying pushed forward, others made way for her. She guessed it was because of her chiton, which made her stand out like an outsider.

  The conversation up front wasn’t going well. The adults were stone-faced, while the youths were impassioned; the adults’ voices were so low as to be inaudible, while the screams of the youths were too loud to be understood. Contrasting moods and emotions clashed like waves. Some were shoving, others were shouting, and new participants kept joining the fray. She grew more and more concerned. Someone yelled. The square was like a boiling pot. More jostling, more s
creams, more anger and rage.

  Just as the chaos had reached a crescendo, the front doors of the Boule Building opened.

  Every pair of eyes swung over. The doorway was empty, revealing the shut set of inner doors. The elaborate floor was devoid of people. The opened doors formed a cave mouth through which a cold wind blew. Everyone quieted.

  Sometime later a figure appeared at the top of the steps.

  “Luoying, would you come here a moment?”

  It was Reini.

  Luoying didn’t expect to see him here, and she certainly wasn’t expecting to be summoned from the crowd like this. She looked around, and everyone around her looked back at her. She looked at Reini, who regarded her expressionlessly. She nodded, held up her skirt, and climbed the steps. No one spoke. The demonstrators’ gazes followed her silently until she was standing between the columns at the top. She turned around.

  “Please wait for me,” she said to the crowd.

  Her voice, unexpectedly cool and gentle, echoed above the square. Without waiting for a reaction, she turned to follow Reini into the Boule Building. The front doors closed slowly behind them.

  Reini walked ahead of her without speaking until he had led her into a small lounge.

  He turned around, took one look at her, pushed open the door, and indicated that she should enter first. The lounge was sparsely furnished, with a row of glass display cases along the windowed side. There was a painting on one wall, and along the other wall was a table with two glass fiber chairs.

  Reini gestured for her to sit, but Luoying remained standing. She had just emerged from a deafening clamor into a pool of silence, and as she took in the slanting sunlight, she felt her ears ring. Her body felt light, unreal.