Bald New World

by Peter Tieryas Liu

  That elicited knowing laughter from the two ladies. “They say they’ve found a prehistoric crab that used to be the size of a grizzly bear,” Shinjee said. “I’d love to have seafood like that.”

  “Shandong has the best seafood,” Hyori said. “Have you visited their shrimp farms? Those shrimp get pretty big.”

  We both took sips from our vodka and I tried to imagine a crab that was bigger than me.

  Shinjee, after helping devour the hundred dumplings, brought up recent movies as they started critiquing various elements from an action flick.

  “The Great Leader loves movies,” Hyori said. “He would esteem your position if you two came and made movies for our great country.”

  “I’m not ready to move just yet,” Larry said. “I’m working on my next big epic.”

  “What epic?”

  “The one that’s going to change everything.”

  “You never told me about this,” Shinjee said.

  “I haven’t told anyone yet. Until I finish it, or at least start it, I’m not going anywhere. I tell you though, this is the film that’s going to change everything.”

  “What’s it called?” I asked.

  He grinned at me. “We’ll talk when the time’s right. Not yet though. I still need to work out the story.”

  Usually when he had an idea for a movie, he would gush with information. In fact, he usually had too many ideas and it took months just to settle on one out of tens of thousands. Phone calls in the middle of the night were the norm, telling me he knew what his next “epic” was going to be, talking until the morning. Then a few hours later, another phone call from him saying he had an even better idea. He wasn’t secretive with strangers either, not in the least bit worried about people stealing his ideas. “It’s the execution, not the idea that counts,” he liked to say. In this case, his silence was so uncharacteristic, I didn’t know what to make of it and I pushed for more information. But he wouldn’t budge.

  “I still have a ton of research to do,” he insisted.

  Shinjee whispered something in his ear and talked in a sweet tone.

  “Sorry. Not until I’m ready,” he replied to her. “If this movie fails, then I’ll know I don’t have what it takes to be a filmmaker. I’ll give up and focus on wigs.”

  “Your ass is drunk,” I said. “This is the third straight film I’ve heard this threat.”

  “This time I mean it!” he declared.

  “Sure, buddy,” I said and burst out laughing.

  “Don’t laugh at me! Don’t laugh at me!” he yelled. “Not everyone’s meant to lead. Maybe I don’t got the vision.”

  “Ladies. Larry needs some fresh air. Let me escort him out.”

  I grabbed Larry and helped him outside.

  “No more alcohol,” I said, then noticed the two thugs lurking across from us. They were casting furtive glances in our direction and I wondered if they were coordinating something with the girls. I peered inside, but Shinjee and Hyori were still eating. “I have this strange feeling that maybe we should leave the girls and get the hell out of here.”

  “You mean just leave them in there?” he asked. “I’m trying to get laid, man. She won’t even let me kiss her yet. If I leave, it’s over.”

  “And those two guys following us? What if they plan on kidnapping us?”

  “If I get to sleep with her for one night, it’ll be worth it. Besides, I got you to get me out of trouble. Remember those girls we visited in the Congo?”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “You saved my life twice that night,” Larry said. “That lady nearly cut off my—” and he stumbled. I helped him back up. “All that technology, all those computer simulations, and we’re still risking our asses for a lay. Or was that just me? You were a prude back then too, weren’t you? I thought it was just Linda that yoked your ass.”

  “If these girls are spies, they’re more dangerous than the girls back then,” I said.

  “It’s a good thing you have your toys to help us.” He took off his fedora, unattached his wig, looked at the brand tag that read Chao Toufa. “Everyone says we make the best hair in the world. We have some special chemical that makes the hair super real, better than horse hair. Can you believe these wigs cost a fortune?”

  “Hair is the most precious luxury in the world.”

  “Long time ago, people used to shave their heads on purpose because they didn’t have showers like now and lice would get in your hair and make your head all itchy. I can’t imagine living with bugs in my hair all day.”

  “It would make life less lonely.”

  He laughed and put his arm around my shoulder. “Shinjee is so pretty, it makes me wanna cry. The only thing I want more than her is for my next film to succeed. It’s going to be amazing.”

  “You’re not going to tell me anything?”

  “Not until it’s ready. I promise I’ll tell you everything when it’s set. Just know it’ll be bigger than anything I’ve done before. Can you please help me tonight?”

  When I first met Larry, I didn’t know who he was, only that he didn’t seem to give a shit about anything or anyone. The military gave him demerits, censures, and reprimands, and he’d just laugh it off.

  One day, he charted who downloaded what porn in the base, categorizing them by their preferences. He was stunned that the married lieutenant who always espoused the Church of Peace enjoyed, “Weird animal stuff involving broccoli and purple dildos,” while three asshole sergeants strayed towards revenge porn and bondage.

  “It makes sense, a lot of them are just angry about (fill in the blank).” He put the list into a document and sent it “accidentally” to the entire cadre. Was nearly court-martialed until a general who saw this gave commendations to Larry for his act of “moral courage.”

  “What are you doing, man?” I asked in concern.

  He laughed. “C’mon, man, it was totally worth it.”

  VI.

  With Larry, it was hard to distinguish between courage and crazy recklessness. Shinjee and Hyori invited us back to their place for drinks. Before I could answer, Larry replied, “Sounds great.”

  They lived in the east part of town, out near Sihui. The street lights resembled circular halos that hovered like frozen hummingbirds and a vendor was selling mushroom lamps, pink and green neon sprouts flourishing in the night. There was a pickup truck that had sleeping bags in the back, exhausted workers snoring inside. A group of drunks engaged in a rabid game of Chinese poker, demanding more beer, commenting vociferously on their play. The apartments were high-rises that were mostly twenty stories high, a steppe of buildings compressed as closely together as possible. We entered their apartment building. Shinjee stomped the ground to trigger the light sensor. The elevator took us up to the sixteenth floor and we entered their unit. It was surprisingly spacious. At the center of the apartment was a grand black piano, polished smooth so that both of us were reflected upside down. The keys were ermine, the set of chords looking like an intricate rib cage on a charred torso.

  “Who plays the piano?” Larry asked.

  “I do,” Shinjee answered. “I used to be a musician. I even played once for the Leader’s nephew.”

  “Not a love song, right?” I asked.

  She simpered. “Not a love song.”

  “Play something for us,” Larry said, and pressed in closer to Shinjee to try to kiss her. She deftly avoided him as though expecting his move.

  “Get us some drinks,” she ordered Hyori.

  Hyori went to the kitchen while Shinjee sat down in front of the piano. She played a piece I didn’t recognize. Larry put his arms around her and she asked, “Do you want me to play something or not?” I could tell Larry wanted to be alone with her so I quietly made my way to the kitchen.

  Hyori was getting drinks ready, but there was something uneasy in her behavior. I didn’t announce myself, watching to see if she was going to do anything. She used a teaspoon to mix juice and soda with heavy doses o
f liquor. Then I saw her take a tiny capsule and pour it into both our cups. She turned around, about to bring out the alcohol on a tray.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw what you just did.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Then drink our drink.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “Larry!” I shouted. “Larry!”

  “What?” he answered.

  “We need to leave.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You can’t just leave!” Hyori shouted.

  “Larry, we need to get out of here. Larry!”

  “What the hell happened?” Larry demanded as he approached.

  “She was trying to drug us,” I said.

  Larry stared at her. Then back at Shinjee and grinned. “Can we just put all the cards on the table?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve been pussyfooting around it the whole night. What do you want from us?” Larry asked. “Wait, it doesn’t even matter. I’m willing to do it, as long as I can have one night with you.” He looked directly at Shinjee.

  Hyori was flustered and Shinjee looked confused. There was a loud banging on the door. While I was happy Larry was smart to what was going on, it didn’t help our plight any. I was not interested in sacrificing myself for one night with Hyori, especially as my eye kept on going to that dumb mouse tattoo on her head celebrating its victory over the lion.

  “You can call off the infantry because you won’t need them,” Larry assured the two. I knew he was turning on his directorial “I’m in command” voice. “You want me to make a film for you? You want money? Name it. Anything aside from the factory, you can have. I’d even give you the factory, except I don’t have that kind of authority. My dad knew how crazy I was and since I have no other family left, he put selling control over it to a computer. Even if you took me hostage, you couldn’t touch Chao Toufa. So what is it you want?”

  Shinjee was surprised and I knew she hadn’t expected this twist. “Y-you knew it was a trap?”

  He went and kissed her. She didn’t stop him. The knocking on the door got louder until the lock turned and the two goons following us burst through the door, getting stuck for a second because they were too big to enter at the same time. I looked over at Larry and his lips were red from lipstick. He gently let Shinjee down.

  “Welcome, gentlemen,” Larry said. “You guys have been following us the whole night. Have fun?” He looked at me, then took off his fedora and covered his eyes.

  I took a light grenade out of my jacket and tossed it up, putting on my protective glasses. An explosive burst of light designed to cause retinal damage shined with the intensity of a small sun, rays deluging the senses. “If you open your eyes for more than three seconds, you’ll go blind!” I warned them. “I wouldn’t move for at least three hours if I were you.” Larry was still covering his eyes. I grabbed him by his arm to lead him out. Hyori was down on the ground, screaming from visual pain. Both blocky goons were also on the ground, squirming in circles like flipped cockroaches wiggling their legs.

  We exited and I shut the door behind me.

  Larry removed his fedora. “I can never get used to all that light,” he said, rubbing his eyes. Even with the protective contact lenses on, I knew it hurt without the glasses. He patted me on the shoulder. “Man, the evening could not have gone more perfect. Did you see her expression, man? She’ll be thinking about that kiss the whole night.”

  We grabbed a cab and he was humming the Final Fantasy song.

  “Three days and she’ll call me, apologize, ask to meet me privately.”

  “If she doesn’t?” I asked.

  “Then it wasn’t meant to be. At least I gave it my best shot.” He looked at me. “You’re still going to L.A. tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “I do it every year. You gonna be okay?”

  “Lots of research to do. I’ll be busy.” He looked at my coat. “You got a lot more gadgets in there?”

  “I’d love to go on a date where I don’t have to use any of them.”

  “Oh c’mon, man. I know you had a little thing for Hyori. Don’t say a part of you didn’t want to.” He shook his finger at me. “Oh, Hyori, I haven’t been with a girl proper since my ex-wife. Can you remind me of what it means to make passionate love with a woman again? Aw yeah!”

  “I worry for the day you actually get married again.”

  “Just don’t let any light grenades go off.”

  “What do you think they wanted from you?” I asked.

  “Probably control of the factories. They don’t know how little control I actually have,” he said and laughed. “I’m not tired. Should we grab another drink?”

  I shrugged. “Only if you promise no more crazy girls.”

  “You know I can’t make that promise. Besides, who’s crazier, the one who leads, or the one who follows?”

  “One of these days, I’m going to meet a girl crazier than any girl you’ve met and you’ll find out what it feels like.”

  “Bring it on.”

  VII.

  By the time I got back to my apartment, it was 4:34 in the morning. I was about to sleep but heard my neighbors, a young couple, screaming at each other. There was pounding, cursing, yelling again. My heart raced, my mind zipping back to a time when I was the one screaming at Linda and she was screaming back. Little tatters of regret crept into my mind, splitting open sieves. I tossed, tightened the ear plug in my ear, turned on the radio to drown out sound. I could hear the rage and their love bitterly intertwined into repulsion. They wanted to stop. They just didn’t know how.

  Eventually, the screaming died down. Did they make up, or did they sleep in separate rooms? I usually ended up sleeping on the sofa.

  I struggled through sleep, angry I couldn’t rest, wondering about meaningless words that still stung. Pain had an expiration date, didn’t it? Before I knew it, it was seven a.m. and I’d slept in a hazy nausea that felt more like being adrift than at rest. America, here I come.

  2. Do You Believe?

  I.

  I came to Los Angeles once a year for my sister’s birthday. She’d passed away, but her husband was still alive and it was her dying wish I’d visit him every year.

  I smelled Los Angeles right after we landed. The pollutants had gotten worse and the ocean smelled like a dumping ground. There were huge billboards of Jesus in military fatigues and a laser gun, a logo above him asking, “Do you believe?” The biggest billboard in the world was a sky board owned by the Church of Peace that played a 24-hour broadcast of Jesus the General. Jesus the General was the most highly rated show in the United States and a nine-time winner of the GEAs (Global Entertainment Awards). Oddly, the second most popular was the Real Life of Rhonda, an ex-porn star who still engaged in crazy sexual escapades and had won eighteen GEAs. She was nearly sixty, but American plastic surgeons were the best in the world and she looked like she was nineteen. Her catch phrase was, “Where have you been?” and she ventured the world finding sex in all its different forms. Jesus versus Rhonda was the biggest ratings war the planet had ever seen.

  The plastic surgeons played a bigger role in this battle than anyone cared to admit. They’d gotten so skilled, they could make anyone look exactly like anyone else. People started asking to look like old celebrities. Marilyn Monroe was popular. So were JFK, Richard Nixon, Bill Clinton, and George W. Bush. Scandals arose when random citizens got surgery to look like celebrities and the journalists got them mixed up. Eventually, the government had to pass a law on “Image Facilitation” as plastic surgery officially came to be known. No recreating public figures without a hundred-million-dollar fee (USD).

  We were the only country still using the American dollar. Everyone else had adapted Standard Currency (SC) after the dollar’s inflation made it worthless decades ago. An orange juice that cost me 2 SC cost me almost 10,000 U
SD. In fact orange juice in L.A. was more expensive than Image Facilitation depending on the sale that was going on at the time.

  LAX was one of the safest air fortresses in the world. Part of that was because of the huge military presence, soldiers with huge guns watching me at every corner. Outside, Los Angeles had reverted to its western origins. It was literally the Wild West out there. Rather than impose gun control, Americans had gone the way of equipping everyone with arms. You had to wear vests and a helmet in case of stray bullets that might break bones. Hospital bills were super expensive too since they had to work for a profit.

  I’d packed my armor suit which was in all grays to let strangers know I was a neutral, not bound up in one of the turf wars that raged throughout the city as indicated by different-colored armor. The glass plating on the helmet surrounded my head and I fastened the armor to cover all major arteries. I’d gotten accustomed to the violence, especially since most public places had gunbots or aerial drones to take down hostiles.

  I still hated coming. I always felt like I was being sold something, even on the taxis that were filled with 3D panoramas of advertisements and holobuddies hooked into my credit information to determine what kind of products I’d be interested in. If I opted out of ads, my cab rates would be ten times the normal rate. Endure ads and the ride was partially subsidized. The cab driver was a grumpy old man who asked, “Where to?”

  I gave him the address for the hospital.

  He didn’t turn around and I was glad he wasn’t the chattering type asking me a hundred questions about where I was from. I felt exhausted, especially with the flip in time zone and the fact that I’d barely slept the night before.

  I thought about my brother-in-law, Ian. He was a snob whose only obsession was being famous when he had his sanity. He tried real hard to be famous, forced my sister to do a lot of stupid things for him. I remembered the first time I met him, I was just ending gun training class. A young girl named Tina couldn’t stop crying after the teacher shot her because she’d cowered at the last second causing the bullet to impact her at an angle that made her bang her head. The teacher forced us to type in our standards (copy/paste disabled) while she chewed out Tina for not following instructions.