by Liu Cixin
“The amount of energy he converted into these objects could have pulverized a planet,” Bigtooth whispered to Yi Yi, his voice shaking slightly.
The clone walked over to the desk, nodding in satisfaction when he saw the arrangement on it. One hand stroked his newly dry beard. He said, “I, Li Bai.”
Yi Yi examined the clone. “Do you mean you want to become Li Bai, or do you really think you’re Li Bai?”
“I’m Li Bai, pure and simple. A Li Bai to surpass Li Bai!”
Yi Yi laughed and shook his head.
“What, do you question me even now?”
Yi Yi nodded. “I concede that your technology far exceeds my understanding. It’s indistinguishable from human ideas of magic and acts of God. Even in the fields of art and poetry, you’ve astonished me. Despite such an enormous cultural, spatial, and temporal gap, you’ve managed to sense the hidden nuances of Classical Chinese poetry…. But understanding Li Bai is one matter, and exceeding him is another. I continue to believe that you face an unsurpassable body of art.”
A mysterious amusement appeared on the clone’s—Li Bai’s—face, only to quickly vanish. He pointed at the desk. “Grind ink!” he bellowed to Yi Yi, before striding away. He was nearly at the edge of the plane before he stopped, stroking his whiskers, gazing toward the distant Milky Way, descending into thought.
Yi Yi took the Yixing clay pot on the desk and poured a trickle of clear water into the depression in the inkstone. Then he began to grind the inkstick against the stone. It was the first time he’d done this; he clumsily angled the stick to scrape at its corners. As he watched the liquid thicken and darken, Yi Yi thought of himself, 1.5 astronomical units away from the sun, perched on this infinitely thin plane in the vastness of outer space. (Even while it was making things out of pure energy, a distant viewer would have perceived zero thickness.) It was a stage floating in the void of the universe, on which a dinosaur, a human raised as dinosaur livestock, and a technological god in period dress planning to surpass Li Bai were performing bizarre live theater. With that thought, Yi Yi shook his head and laughed wanly.
Once he thought the ink was ready, Yi Yi stood and waited next to Bigtooth. The breeze on the plane had ceased by this time; the sun and Milky Way shone calmly, as if the whole universe were waiting in anticipation.
Li Bai stood steadily at the edge of the plane. The layer of air above the plane created almost no scattering effect, so that the sunlight cast him in crispest light and shadow. Aside from the movements of his hand when he smoothed his beard now and then, he was practically a statue hewn from stone.
Yi Yi and Bigtooth waited and waited. Time flowed past silently. The brush on the desk, plump with ink, began to dry. The position of the sun changed unnoticed in the sky; they, the desk, and the spaceship cast long shadows, while the white paper that was spread out on the desk appeared as if it had become part of the plane.
Finally, Li Bai turned and slowly stepped over to the desk. Yi Yi hurriedly re-dipped the brush in ink and offered it with both hands, but Li Bai held up a hand in refusal. He only stared at the blank paper on the desk in continued deep thought, something new in his gaze.
Yi Yi, with glee, saw that it was perplexity and unease.
“I need to make some more things. They’re all … fragile goods. Be sure to catch them.” Li Bai pointed at the fabricator; the flames within, which had dimmed, grew bright once more. Just as Yi Yi and Bigtooth ran over, a tongue of blue flame pushed out a round object. Bigtooth caught it agilely. Upon closer inspection, it was a large earthen jar. Next, three large bowls sprang out of the blue flames. Yi Yi caught two of them, but the third fell and shattered. Bigtooth carried the jar to the desk and carefully unsealed it. The powerful fragrance of wine emerged. Bigtooth and Yi Yi exchanged astonished looks.
“There wasn’t much documentation on human winemaking in the Earth-related data I received from the Devouring Empire, so I’m not sure I fabricated this correctly,” said Li Bai, pointing to the jar of wine to indicate that Yi Yi should taste it.
Yi Yi took a bowl, scooped a little from the jar, and took a sip. Fiery heat ran past his throat down into his belly. He nodded. “It’s wine, albeit much too strong compared to the kind we drink to improve our meat quality.”
Li Bai pointed to the other bowl on the desk. “Fill it up.” He waited for Bigtooth to pour a bowlful of the strong wine, then picked it up and glugged the whole thing down. Then he turned and once again walked off into the distance, weaving a stagger here and there along the way. Once he reached the edge of the plane, he stood there and resumed his pondering in the direction of the stars, only this time his body swayed rhythmically left and right, as if to some unheard melody. Li Bai didn’t ponder for long before returning to the desk once more, and on the walk back he staggered every step. He grabbed the brush being proffered by Yi Yi and threw it into the distance.
“Fill it up,” Li Bai said, eyes fixed on the empty bowl….
An hour later, Bigtooth’s two immense claws carefully lowered a passed-out Li Bai onto the cleared desk, only for him to roll over and fall right off, muttering something in a language incomprehensible to dinosaur and human alike. He’d already vomited a particolored pile (although no one knew when he’d had the occasion to eat in the first place), some of it staining his flowing robes. With the white light of the plane passing through, the vomit formed some sort of abstract image. Li Bai’s mouth was black with ink: after finishing his fourth bowl, he’d tried to write something on the paper, but had ended up merely stabbing his ink-plump brush heavily upon the table. After that, he’d tried to smooth the brush with his mouth, like a child at his first calligraphy lesson….
“Esteemed god?” Bigtooth bent down and asked carefully.
“Wayakaaaaa … kaaaayiaiwa,” said Li Bai, tongue lolling.
Bigtooth straightened, shook his head, and sighed. He said to Yi Yi, “Let’s go.”
THE SECOND PATH
Yi Yi’s feedlot was located on the Devourers’ equator. While the planet had lain within the inner reaches of the solar system, this had been a beautiful prairie between two rivers. When the Devourers left the orbit of Jupiter, a harsh winter had descended, the prairie disappearing and the rivers freezing. The humans raised there had all been relocated to an underground city. After the Devourers received the summons from the god and returned, spring had come back to the land with the approach of the sun. The two rivers quickly defrosted, and the prairie began to turn green as well.
In times of good weather, Yi Yi lived alone in the crude grass hut he’d built himself by the riverside, tilling the land and amusing himself. A normal human wouldn’t have been allowed, but as Yi Yi’s feedlot lectures on ancient literature had edifying properties, imparting a unique flavor to the flesh of his students, the dinosaur breeder didn’t stop him.
It was dusk, two months after Yi Yi had first met Li Bai, the sun just tipping over the perfectly straight horizon line of the Devouring Empire. The two rivers reflected the sunset, meeting at the edge of the sky. In the riverside hut, a breeze carried faint, distant sounds of song and celebration over the prairie. Yi Yi was alone, playing weiqi with himself.
He looked up and saw Li Bai and Bigtooth walking along the riverbank toward him. Li Bai was much changed from before: his hair was unkempt, his beard even longer, his face sun-browned. He had a rough cloth pack slung over his left shoulder and a large bottle-gourd in his right hand. His robes had been reduced to rags; his woven-straw shoes were mangled with wear. But Yi Yi thought that he now seemed more like a human being.
Li Bai walked over to the weiqi table. Like the last few times, he slammed the gourd down without looking at Yi Yi and said, “Bowl!” When Yi Yi had brought over the two wooden bowls, Li Bai uncorked the gourd and filled them with wine, then took a paper package from his pack. Yi Yi opened it to discover cooked meat, already sliced, its aroma greeting his nose enthusiastically. He couldn’t help but grab a piece and start chewing.
Bigtooth only stood, a few meters away, watching them silently. He knew from before that the two of them were going to discuss poetry again, a topic in which he had no interest and no ability.
“Delicious,” Yi Yi said, nodding approvingly. “Is the beef made directly from energy too?”
“No, I’ve gone natural for a long while now. You might not know, but there’s a pasture a long distance away from here where they raise Earth cows. I cooked the beef myself in the Shanxi Pingyao style. There’s a trick to it. When you stew the meat, you have to add …” Li Bai whispered mysteriously into Yi Yi’s ear, “Urea.”
Yi Yi looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“Oh, that’s what you get when you take human urine, let it evaporate, and extract the white stuff. It makes the cooked meat red and juicy with a tender texture, while keeping the fatty parts from being cloying and the lean parts from being leathery.”
“The urea … it’s made from pure energy, right?” Yi Yi asked, horrified.
“I told you, I’ve gone natural! It took me a lot of work to collect the urea from several human feedlots. This is a very traditional folk cuisine technique, faded from use long before the destruction of Earth.”
Yi Yi had already swallowed his bite of beef. He picked up the wine bowl to prevent himself from vomiting.
Li Bai pointed at the gourd. “Under my direction, the Devouring Empire has built a number of distilleries, already capable of producing many of the wines famous on Earth. This is bona-fide zhuyeqing, made by steeping bamboo leaves in sorghum liquor.”
Yi Yi only now discovered that the wine in his bowl was different from what Li Bai had brought previously. It was emerald green, with a sweet aftertaste of herbs.
“Looks like you’ve really mastered human culture,” Yi Yi said feelingly to Li Bai.
“That’s not all. I’ve also spent a lot of time on personal enrichment. As you know, the scenery of many parts of the Devouring Empire is near identical to what Li Bai saw on Earth. In these two months, I’ve wandered the mountains and waters, feasting my eyes on picturesque landscapes, drinking wine under moonlight, declaiming poetry on mountain summits, even having a few romantic encounters in the human feedlots everywhere …”
“Then, you should be ready to show me your works of poetry.”
Li Bai exhaled and set down his wine bowl. He stood and paced uneasily. “I’ve composed some poems, yes, and I’m certain you’d be astonished at them. You’d find that I’m already a remarkable poet, even more remarkable than you and your great-grandfather. But I don’t want you to see the poems, because I’m equally certain you’d think they fail to surpass Li Bai’s. And I …” He looked up and far away, at the residual radiance of the setting sun, his gaze dazed and pained. “I think so too.”
On the distant prairie, the dances had ended. People were happily turning to their abundant dinner. A group of girls ran to the riverbank to splash in the shallows near shore. Circlets of flowers adorned their heads, and light gauze like mist draped over their bodies, forming an intoxicating scene in the lighting of dusk. Yi Yi pointed at one girl near the hut. “Is she beautiful?”
“Of course,” Li Bai said, looking uncomprehendingly at Yi Yi.
“Imagine cutting her open with a sharp knife, removing her every organ, plucking out her eyes, scooping out her brain, picking out all her bones, slicing apart her muscles and fat according to position and function, gathering her blood vessels and nerves into two bundles. Finally, imagine laying out a big white cloth and arranging all those pieces, classified according to anatomical principles. Would you still think her beautiful?”
“How do you think of such a thing while drinking? Disgusting,” Li Bai said, wrinkling his brow.
“How is it disgusting? Is this not the technology you worship?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Li Bai saw nature like you see the girls down by the riverside. But in technology’s eyes, nature is its components, perfectly arrayed and dripping blood on a white cloth. Therefore, technology is antithetical to poetry.”
“Then you have a suggestion for me?” Li Bai said thoughtfully, stroking his beard.
“I still don’t think you stand a chance at surpassing Li Bai, but I can point your energies in the correct direction. Technology has clouded your eyes, blinding you to the beauty of nature. Therefore, you must first forget all your ultra-advanced technological knowledge. If you can transplant all your memories into your current brain, you can certainly delete some of them.”
Li Bai exchanged looks with Bigtooth. Both burst into laughter. “Esteemed god, I told you from the start, these are tricky bug-bugs,” said Bigtooth. “A moment of carelessness and you’ll fall into one of their traps.”
“Hahahaha, tricky indeed, but entertaining as well,” Li Bai said to Bigtooth, before turning toward Yi Yi with cold amusement. “Did you really think I came here to admit defeat?”
“You could not surpass the pinnacle of human poetry. That’s a fact.”
Abruptly, Li Bai raised a finger and pointed to the river. “How many ways are there to walk to the riverbank?”
Yi Yi looked uncomprehendingly at Li Bai for a few seconds. “It seems … there’s only one.”
“No, there’s two. I can also walk in this direction,” Li Bai indicated the direction opposite from the river, “and keep going, all the way around the Devouring Empire, crossing the river from the other side to reach this bank. I can even make a full circuit around the Milky Way and return here. With our technology, it’s just as easy. Technology can surpass anything! I am now forced to take the second path!”
Yi Yi pondered this for a long time before shaking his head in bewilderment. “Even if you have the technology of a god, I can’t think of a second path to surpassing Li Bai.”
Li Bai stood. “It’s simple. There are two ways to surpass Li Bai. The first is to write poems that surpass his. The other is to write every poem!”
Yi Yi looked even more confused, but Bigtooth beside him seemed to have had an epiphany.
“I will write every five-character-line and seven-character-line poem possible. They were Li Bai’s specialty. In addition, I’m going to write down every possible lyrical poem for the common line formats! How do you not understand? I’m going to try every possible permutation of Chinese characters that fits the format rules!”
“Ah, magnificent! What a magnificent undertaking!” Bigtooth crowed, forgetting all dignity.
“Is this hard?” Yi Yi asked ignorantly.
“Of course, incredibly so! The largest computer in the Devouring Empire might not be able to finish the calculations before the death of the universe!”
“Surely not,” Yi Yi said, skeptical.
“Of course yes!” Li Bai nodded with satisfaction. “But by using quantum computing, which you’re still a long way from mastering, we can complete the calculations in an acceptable length of time. Then I’ll have written every single poem, including everything that’s been written in the past, and, much more importantly, everything that may be written someday in the future! This will naturally include poems that surpass Li Bai’s best works. In fact, I’ve ended the art of poetry. Every poet from now on to the destruction of the universe, no matter how great, will be no more than a plagiarist. Their works will turn up in a search of my enormous storage device.”
Bigtooth suddenly gave a guttural cry, his gaze on Li Bai changing from excitement to shock. “An enormous … storage device? Esteemed god, do you mean to say, you’re going to … save all the poems the quantum computer writes?”
“What’s the fun in deleting everything right after I write it? Of course I’m going to save them! It will be a monument to the artistic contributions my race has made to this universe!”
Bigtooth’s expression changed from shock to horror. He extended his bulky claws and bent his legs, as if trying to kneel to Li Bai. “You mustn’t, esteemed god,” he cried. “You mustn’t!”
“What’s got you so scared?�
�� Yi Yi regarded Bigtooth with astonishment.
“You idiot! Don’t you know that atomic bombs are made of atoms? The storage device will be made of atoms too, and its storage precision can’t possibly exceed the atomic level! Do you know what atomic-level storage is? It means that all of humanity’s books can be stored in an area the size of the point of a needle! Not the couple of books you have left, but all the books that existed before we ate Earth!”
“Ah, that sounds plausible. I’ve heard that a glass of water contains more atoms than the Earth’s oceans contained cups of water. Then, he can just write down those poems and take the needle with him,” Yi Yi said, pointing at Li Bai.
Bigtooth nearly burst with outrage. He had to rapidly pace a few steps to summon a little more patience. “Okay, okay, tell me, if the god writes all those five-character- and seven-character-line poems, and the common lyrical poetry formats, one time each, how many characters would that be?”
“Not many, no more than two or three thousand, right? Classical poetry is the most concise art form there is.”
“Fine, you idiot bug-bug, let me show you how concise it really is!” Bigtooth strode to the table and pointed at the game board with one claw. “What is it you call this stupid game … ah yes, weiqi. How many grid intersections are on the board?”
“There are nineteen lines in both the vertical and horizontal directions, for a total of three hundred and sixty-one points.”
“Very good, each intersection can be occupied by a black piece, a white piece, or no piece, a total of three states in all. So you can think of each game state as using three characters to write a poem of nineteen lines and three hundred and sixty-one characters.”
