by Hao Jingfang
Reini knew well that Juan possessed a forceful personality that commanded attention wherever he appeared. In contrast to Rudy’s refined elegance, there was always a wildness about him, and his unrestrained will was like a roaring hearth whose heat filled the room. He wasn’t tall or muscular, and his rotund figure brought to mind a chef who enjoyed his own cooking too much. But when he spoke, when he issued orders in his cold, hard-edged voice, he seemed like a rumbling jaguar about to pounce. For ten years he had led the Flight System, and his powerful presence and personal charisma had compelled the obedience of many proud and intractable generals.
Juan was the trump card for the Climbers. The Flight System was the foundation of the Martian Republic. Without their constant exploration and harvesting, many crucial resources for the city would be quickly exhausted.
As everyone listened, holding their breath, Juan spoke.
“The choice facing us today isn’t merely a choice about how to live. Our choice will determine the future of our race and the future of all humankind.
“Yes, we’ve already become a distinct race, both biologically and spiritually. We are taller than Terrans, more vigorous, more suited to high leaps and flight. We can tolerate harsher changes in temperature. It would be no exaggeration to say that we represent a more perfect step in the ladder of evolution. We are a brand-new type of humanity.
“In spirituality and wisdom, we far surpass the Terrans as well. Our race has inherited the best of human civilization and art, and our gaze pierces to the very edge of space and the end of time. Even the youngest child among us has a grander view of the world than any adult on Earth. We live as a unified whole, while Terrans have broken into fragments in their self-division. Shortsighted, selfish, they no longer remember the high ideals and values that humanity ought to possess. We are the true heirs of humanity, worthy of the name ‘the human race.’ We are Martians, the purest strain of humanity.
“What should humans fear the most? Is it storms, falling rocks, extreme cold and heat? Is it to struggle against difficulties? No! What we should fear more than anything else is rot and decline, that humankind’s powerful survival instincts devolve to weakness, cowardice, softness akin to the slime we crawled out of! But that is the direction Terrans are headed in. They have become a bunch of sickly, fat, wretched, timid weaklings, lost in their ever-expanding, never-satisfied gluttonous desires, their senses dulled with grease and drugs, devoid of any higher ideals. They treat mere cleverness as wisdom and shamelessly buy and sell what wisdom they stumble upon, not understanding that wisdom requires lasting exploration, not realizing that the greatest spirits crave sharing and giving. They’ve forgotten their planet as they luxuriate in artifice. Their understanding of the qualities of their own home reaches not even one half the depth of understanding of an ordinary resident of our fair city. They are traitors to their own history. We are ashamed to admit that we descend from the same ancestors, that we share their bloodline. Only in us, and not in those devolved beings squatting upon the face of the Earth, can we recognize the courage and pride that belongs to true human beings!
“It is our sacred mission to carry on the destiny of humanity, a duty that we dare not shirk. We stand at the frontier of humanity’s reach into the cosmos. We know what it means to explore the unknown; we’ve been strengthened by our harsh environment; we’ve built the Tower of Babel to call forth the storm of wisdom. In the foreseeable future, we’ll enter the opening act of a great drama: the spreading of humanity’s seed across the vastness of space in a new age of exploration. Humanity is fated to surpass itself, and must do so. We must learn to survive in new environments and must adapt new environments to suit us. All extreme environments are mere ferocious monsters of today—and our dear friends of tomorrow. Before we’ve learned to tame them, we may choose to compromise in measure, but we must never surrender!
“We must leave the comforts of home and step into the cold to maintain our edge. To stay in this city forever is to invite upon ourselves the fate of the Terrans: devolution, decline, rot. This is an inflection point in history, and the choice is in our hands. Whether you like it or not, the future is coming!”
Juan didn’t use and didn’t need any visual aids. His powerful, deep voice boomed like bass drumbeats, carrying the audience on waves of rousing emotion. He gestured very little, but there was tension in every inch of his body, like a balloon about to burst.
As he gazed at Juan, Reini felt a rising tide of fear in his heart. A premonition of danger grew stronger with each sentence. It’s coming, he thought. It’s finally coming.
Reini didn’t know Juan well, but he knew the archon’s history. Even as a child, Juan had shown an unusually strong personality. His parents died early, but he never seemed to be bothered by that fact. When his grandmother died as a result of Terran bombing, he had screamed and howled and cried his heart out, but that was the last time anyone could recall him shedding tears. He showed no signs of unsociability, self-pity, or even sadness; he never accepted anyone’s help. Growing up in the barracks of the Flight System, he knew aircraft better than he knew land.
At the time the war ended, Juan was sixteen. He refused to live anywhere except at the airport. Having lived a life in tough environments where he was used to doing everything himself, he stayed away from the kindness of the war orphans aid office. He refused all offers of help and rarely helped anyone else—with one exception: Hans Sloan.
Hans was older than Juan by fourteen years, and Hans was the only man he trusted or relied on. No one knew how their friendship had come about, but there were rumors that Hans had been the one who rescued Juan after his grandmother was killed by the Terrans.
Juan was someone who loved and hated with equal passion. There was no betrayal or forgiveness in his dictionary. Those he loved, he would be loyal unto death; those he hated, he would never forgive in a million years. He remembered his debts and slights with total fidelity. He had never forgiven the Terrans; even though Martians had started the war, Terrans were the enemy.
Reini knew that this was the source of Hans’s concerns. Though he had long tired of exercising power, he couldn’t retire. Hans feared that once he was no longer in charge, a cold flame that could not be repressed would erupt out of the tranquil sea to strike at another world with unforeseeable consequences. This was the biggest threat facing Mars. Hans saw clearer than anyone else that, compared to all the other flaws, the desire for conquest was the only true crisis. All the problems with the system could be improved: the feedback system in the central archive and the democratic institutions for policy making were relatively complete; all that was needed was patience. But the desire for conquest was different. It was the greatest threat for a nation that didn’t believe in heaven, that didn’t fear an afterlife, that possessed a concentrated dose of intelligence. A nation like this had strength and focus but had no imaginary hope; and thus it had no pride in itself but required conquest of the other to prove itself. Hans had been worried about this possibility for a long time. Martians devoted themselves to causes more easily than anyone else, and thus were most susceptible to the temptation of a sense of historical mission.
The day is finally here, thought Reini. The day Hans has tried to delay so many years is finally here.
Hans took the podium as the last speaker for the Waders. He and Juan passed each other, and Hans stood still in the center of the buffeting emotional waves left by Juan like a submarine slowly surfacing in tumultuous waters. He looked determined, at peace, and also very old. He swept his eyes across the room as though surveying the conclusion written long ago by fate. The chamber quieted.
Hans stood still a few moments longer and took the desert eagle badge from his shoulder. He held it up to show everyone before placing the two shining golden eagles on top of the lectern.
“Let me make something clear first. As consul, I’m not supposed to support either side in this debate. My role is to ensure the fairness of the process. But I want to speak at
the defense session today to express my personal views. Therefore, I’m taking off the symbol of my office. In another month, the election for the new consul will be held. Since my term is almost over, I may as well resign now.”
A low murmur of shock filled the chamber, but Hans seemed to not notice.
“I’m going to describe some aspects of my side’s vision for the city, but I’m also going to present some objections to the migration plan. After comparing the two plans, we, the Waders, believe that humanity has not yet reached the technology level for living outside an enclosed environment.
“Under the continuation plan, city planning isn’t limited to merely replicating the existing model. We hope to expand upon our foundation of mature technologies and develop an endless series of new models and forms. With the water from Ceres and a river that we can design and control, we can build a string of cities along the course of the river and no longer be confined to one city.
“In these new cities, we’ll be able to experiment with different models. Although they’ll still be based upon a glass shell, we can develop different variations, including trials at living directly off the land. In this future, the construction of houses won’t be controlled by a single atelier and department of the government. We’ll open up the technologies, which means more talented groups will learn and develop the technologies and receive funding support. Each of the new cities will have its own independent boule to determine the best way to allocate the city’s resources and ensure its smooth functioning. Intercity transportation will be handled by ground effects vehicles—a technology we’ve been using for many years and is absolutely reliable. The city will be the basic unit of future Mars. Along the glass-enclosed river will be a strand of prosperous cities, each developing its own unique qualities.
“More importantly, in these sealed cities scattered across the plain, we’ll be able to run more scientific experiments to gradually adapt the human body to the environment, to lay a firmer foundation for the eventual day when we step out of the glass dome. Low-pressure environments, low-oxygen environments, high-radiation environments—all these can be simulated in the laboratory over years of trials until our bodies, or the bodies of our descendants, have changed significantly from today, so that we can walk out of the sealed enclosure and into nature. Evolution is a long and unpredictable process. The humanity of today will be surpassed, but not right away.”
As Reini listened to the speech, he recalled the conversation between Hans and himself the previous afternoon.
* * *
Hans went to the Registry of Files to access some reference materials, and afterward, he went to Reini’s lounge to have tea with him. Reini thought he looked worried.
“Reini, I don’t know much about insects, but I’ve heard that it’s impossible for insects to grow to be very big. Is that right?”
Sitting across from Reini, Hans spoke in a low and slow voice, like a quiet river. Reini could see the signs of aging on his face. Hans’s face had always seemed to him as hard as an angular cliff face, and for thirty years he had looked the same. But he appeared to have aged quickly the last few days. Behind Hans, the clock’s pendulum swung through the air, marking the passage of time.
“That is true,” said Reini. “Insects breathe through their bodies, and if they grow to be too large, they’ll suffocate. Moreover, insects have exoskeletons, which can’t support very massive bodies.”
“So what would happen if an insect body were forced to expand and grow beyond its limit?”
“It would split apart,” said Reini.
“For certain?”
“For certain.”
Reini had often seen fantasy sketches of animals that were either much larger or smaller than in real life, as though the actual sizes in real life had been assigned by mere chance. But he knew that wasn’t true. Evolution constrained an animal’s size like the physics of music constrained the size of the violin. It wasn’t that it was impossible to deviate from the sizes seen in life; rather, it was because expanding or shrinking an animal’s body plan was certain to lead to less optimized results. Evolution was a bidirectional process that led to a compromise between the organism and the environment. A bird selected the site to build the nest, and the nest then selected the next generation of birds. At a certain point, the processes of selecting and being selected achieved a balance. This was a fact often ignored by people: the end of evolution wasn’t some extreme but a compromise that balanced all the opposing pressures.
Hans rested his hand on the cup, thinking, and nodded only after some time had passed. Someone unfamiliar with his habits might have suspected that he hadn’t heard. Reini refilled his cup, and they continued to sit and converse as the pale green curtain behind them drifted in the occasional gust of air.
“What do you think is the key to change?” asked Hans.
“To go slow,” said Reini.
Reini knew what was bothering Hans, though he neither asked about it nor mentioned it. They spoke in koans, posing fate’s riddles to each other.
* * *
The Hans on the dais now was more emotional than the day before. Instead of quietly pondering questions of destiny, he infused his arguments with his swelling emotions. Even his voice took on an air of lament, in contrast to his usual peaceful delivery. Perhaps he was treating this speech as the final monologue before the curtain fell on his forty-year political career. He put all of himself into it, and emotion broke through the cracks in his usual armor.
The choice facing Hans was difficult. He had thrown his support behind the continuation plan not only because of Galiman’s glass house but also because he distrusted blindly jumping into a new living environment. When he was younger, his father warned him often: An impulsive bout of courage is often mere recklessness.
He could still recall the hunger and cold of his youth. Those were the early years of the war, when the rebels had to pay a heavy price for their gamble. They had lost the supplies from Earth and lacked the ability to make the wasteland bloom. The impulsive insurgents were on the verge of being wiped out, and only an indomitable spirit and occasional victories due to luck sustained them.
To leave the crater for the glass house was their turning point. From that point on, they could plant and grow inside a sealed environment, possess air and heat, and keep death at bay. The first years after the war were almost as difficult as the years during the war. They repelled not only the enemy but also the only source of goods required for survival: transport ships from Earth. It was no longer possible to seize supplies; everything they needed had to be obtained from the desert, a practically impossible task. It took years of struggle before they managed to negotiate a peace with Earth and begin trading again. After having experienced all of these, having witnessed years of deaths and painful memories, he instinctively distrusted a rash departure. He couldn’t put his faith in such a move. They lacked too many things to believe that a strong will was enough.
“Let me ask a final question of our Climber friends.” Hans locked eyes with Juan, sitting among the audience. “Do you agree that humanity remains quite frail, so that, after years of trials in laboratory environments, our chances for successfully living in an open environment will be far greater?”
Juan stood up and faced Hans somberly.
“If we take that route, at that point in the future, we won’t have the water supply that we possess now.” Juan’s voice was resolute and decisive. “If we divert the water from Ceres into the ancient riverbed, then it will be impossible in the future to gather up all of it to deposit into the crater. Maintaining a large body of water and pocket of air on the open plain will be many times harder than inside a crater, and we won’t be able to capture another object with so much water then. If we don’t take this chance, we’ll never be able to build a truly open environment on Mars.”
Hans refused to back down.
“Then let me ask you: In your plan, where will we obtain all the necessary materials?”
“From mining. Our extraction and refining capabilities have improved by leaps and bounds in recent years. We can also exploit more asteroids.”
“But you know as well as I do that we cannot obtain everything we need by mining.”
“We can get most of it.”
“No.” Hans shook his head determinedly with a hint of anguish. “You know this. To maintain air pressure, we must have nitrogen. Can we get all the nitrogen we need from mining? To build the cave houses in your plans, we need light metals, which cannot all be obtained from Mars. Aluminum, magnesium, sodium, potassium—all of these are rare on Mars, but your design requires lightness and flexibility. The city we have is constructed from glass, the only material we possess in abundance, a material you propose to abandon. You also propose to lay massive amounts of underground cables. But I must ask: Where will you obtain the necessary insulators? Plastics, rubber, organic materials—you need all of these, but where can you get them? We have small amounts of rubber and can trade for more from Earth, but the mega-engineering project to modify a crater will require far more than can be supplied by these means.”
Juan was silent for a moment. “These are mere details.”
“No!” Hans shouted.
Juan answered him with more silence.
“Look at me,” said Hans. “I think I know the real answer. You are thinking of obtaining these materials by force. Am I right?”
Juan looked at him but made no answer.
“Am. I. Right?”
Finally, Juan nodded.
“But that means war, don’t you understand?”
“No, I don’t understand.” Juan spoke in a deliberately casual manner. “We only have to maintain a certain level of control and deterrence. The threat is enough to force them to comply.”
“No, that isn’t possible.” Hans put every ounce of his strength into his aged voice. “Do you really not understand? It’s impossible to have what you want without resistance and bloody clashes. We will have war dragging on for years without cease.”