The Next Continent

by Issui Ogawa

  “Wow, that definitely sounds like a plan.” Shinji had Ryuichi’s full attention now.

  “Yes, it’s perfect. The tug will only be used between Earth and the moon, and it’ll really expand the range of things we can do in space. Whatever the payload, all we have to do to get it to the moon is just take it outside Earth’s atmosphere. We can park things in LEO and stop worrying about the best launch window. All pros, no cons.”

  “All pros, no cons…” Ryuichi said in a faraway voice. Shinji looked up. Ryuichi had spread both arms across the back of the sofa. He was staring at the ceiling.

  “Everything these days feels like a dream.”

  “How so?” Shinji was mystified.

  “Launching rockets to the moon like it was routine. I went up myself. To top it off, I’ve got NASA eating out of my hand. Remember that time you and I first met, in that beer place in Kanda? I never, ever thought we’d come this far.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I’m almost worried. It’s like things are going too well.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the Yaenami I know,” chuckled Shinji. Ryuichi leaned across the table and looked at the waiflike face of his resident genius.

  “It’s all your doing. You deserve a bonus. What do you want?”

  “I don’t know. Okay, I’d like to go up too. LEO is fine.”

  “Is that all? In another fifteen years it’ll only cost you a month’s salary.”

  “A trip into orbit is more than enough. I want to see a TROPHY rocket coming up toward me. If I wait fifteen years, we’ll probably be using a totally new engine.”

  “I get it.” Ryuichi nodded. “You want to watch your carefully raised child fly from every angle.”

  “From low orbit I’ll be able to see everything from liftoff to second-stage separation.”

  “Great, I’ll make sure it happens.” Ryuichi reached across the table and clapped Shinji on both shoulders. “Speaking of new engines to take us to the moon, shouldn’t you be working on that? I’m counting on you!”

  “I’d actually rather design something to take us to another planet.”

  “What a genius!” Ryuichi clapped his shoulders again and again.

  “Hey, give me a break!” Shinji laughed.

  CHAPTER 6

  RISK MANAGEMENT AND DAMAGE CONTROL

  [1]

  THE LEAVES ENVELOPING the soaring office tower glowed crimson in the sunset over the Yoro Mountains. It was beautiful enough to take one’s breath away.

  Autumn, 2030. Eden Leisure Entertainment’s headquarters was sheathed in Japanese maples flourishing on projecting ledges. On the twenty-third floor, their scarlet leaves framed a window and a man who stood gazing impassively from it.

  The man’s hair was parted neatly above his gold-rimmed glasses. Behind the glow reflected in their lenses, his eyes had a gentle softness. His features were clear-cut; age had only begun to touch his slightly hollowed cheeks. He stood on the green carpet of his enormous office like a tree nourished by the sun, feet planted shoulder width apart, spine straight, hands behind his back. A small badge with a logo of a red fruit in a treetop adorned his beige suit lapel.

  ELE president Kiichiro Toenji was fifty-five years old. He was not admiring the sunset. He had turned his back on a visitor. The visitor’s voice, coming from a sofa facing his desk, was pulsing with irritation.

  “Why can’t you be more flexible? One company sailing under two flags will only confuse our customers.”

  “Corporations have multiple brands all the time. Sixth Continent doesn’t have to borrow Tokai Eden’s design concepts,” said Kiichiro, without moving a muscle.

  “Then at least put a Sixth Continent banner at the top of our home page. Ninety-five percent of our visitors use the web to check the park schedule. You know that. Treating Sixth Continent like any other subsidiary just makes the rift between you and Tae that much more obvious.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say that, Mr. Chairman. I think Sixth Continent’s already made the rift obvious with their stance toward ELE. But that doesn’t change the fact that Tae’s moon base is not a core business. It’s just part of our portfolio, like Eden Tourist or Vision of Eden Video. Our publishing division will probably show more profit in the long run. But this is academic. We agreed that she could draw on corporate resources, such as our publicity department, as long as Sixth Continent succeeded or failed on its own.”

  “Kiichiro, are you refusing to help your own flesh and blood?”

  At the old man’s sigh, Kiichiro’s blank expression became, if anything, even more inscrutable. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose with a manicured fingertip. “I’ve faithfully followed the course you set.”

  “In what way?”

  “‘A paradise on Earth, a dream, a brief escape from reality—for everyone.’ When you founded Paradise Tours, that was your company’s motto. And in time, Paradise Tours grew into this enormous enterprise. Since I took over this office fifteen years ago, I’ve never forgotten that motto. Not for a single day.”

  “They’re just words,” said Sennosuke. “You don’t know what they mean!”

  “Don’t I? I am a purveyor of dreams. It’s you who has forgotten the meaning of those words. Sixth Continent will never be accessible to the public. It’s not a place you can just decide to visit. It’s a palace above the clouds for the superrich. If space travel is always going to be expensive, then the entire venture was ill conceived from the start.”

  “But the mere fact that there is such a place gives people hope for the future. Tae gets thousands of letters every week that prove it.”

  “Yes. She’s dangling a dream of the future before the world. Her dream, the dream of a solitary young girl. I’m sure you understand the risks that entails. Offer a product strongly associated with a particular individual, and anything that damages that person’s reputation damages the product. To make matters worse, Sixth Continent has no focus. Is it a wedding palace? A research facility? What happens if she ceases to be associated with it? The whole house of cards collapses. I doubt Tae herself understands why she’s doing this. Her rationale for building a moon base changes depending on whom she’s speaking to, the time, and the place. It’s absurd.”

  “Kiichiro—don’t you see why she’s doing this?”

  The son shook his head almost imperceptibly. “If I were unable to grasp the psychology of an eighteen-year-old, I’d hardly be qualified for this job. But to answer your question, yes, I know why she’s doing it. And I can’t give her what she wants.”

  “Is that why you allowed her to go ahead?” Sennosuke’s shoulders sagged with sudden resignation. “Is this your way of trying to please her?”

  Kiichiro was silent for a moment.

  “I didn’t expect the project to snowball the way it has. That was my error. But errors can be corrected. It’s not too late to terminate the project. Once people begin living on the moon it will be impossible to pull the plug. Do we hemorrhage red ink and become an object of derision? Or worse, do we wait for some poor guest to lose his life and become a target of criticism? It’s all too easy to see where this is heading.”

  “I didn’t raise you to be so pessimistic. You’ve changed, but I saw it too late. Is it because of Shizu?”

  Kiichiro whirled on him. “Shizu has nothing to do with it. That was an accident.”

  “So I understand. But it would be natural for you to feel responsible. She didn’t have to be behind the wheel of that car.”

  “The dead do not assign blame. Nor do they forgive. Second thoughts are wasted thoughts. Please leave ancient history out of this, Mr. Chairman.”

  “Stop calling me that. I’m your father.” Sennosuke was suddenly stern. “You said mistakes can be corrected. Give Tae the benefit of your experience. Sixth Continent is sure to be a roaring success. It will be a vehicle for her dreams and a hope for millions around the world. That’s the kind of future you should be pursuing.”

  “W
e’re talking past each other,” said Kiichiro at length. He shook his head. “ELE’s future is in my hands. I acknowledge your viewpoint. That is all, Mr. Chairman.”

  “Kiichiro…what she really wants—”

  “Father.” He raised a hand in warning and looked down at Sennosuke. The old man glowered at him.

  “I take it back. Don’t call me that again.”

  “I won’t.” Kiichiro nodded toward the exit. Sennosuke got up and strode out angrily. His son watched the door close, still impassive. He shrugged his shoulders lightly and touched the speed dial on his wearcom. His secretary answered.

  “It’s me. From now on, when the chairman visits, alert me before you admit him.”

  “Certainly, sir. Shall I issue him an ID card?”

  “That won’t be necessary. But things have changed. I’ll need time to compose myself before seeing him.”

  “I see.” The secretary needed no further explanation. “We’re running short on time. You have a first-class seat on the maglev for tonight’s dinner in Tokyo. I’m concerned about the traffic in Shinkiba. Shall we take the helicopter?”

  “No. Let’s stay with the maglev. I have some homework to do on the way there.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I need a report on Sixth Continent’s risk management from Central Planning. A summary of any factors that could negatively impact the project. Human, financial, technical, political, and anything else. There must still be someone in the division at this hour.”

  “Just a moment.” There was silence for perhaps twenty seconds. “Yes, they can prepare a summary. The file will be ready in thirty-five minutes.”

  “Use level three—no, level four encryption. Passwords for the two of us only.”

  “Understood.”

  “Shall we be off then?”

  Before he left his office, Kiichiro looked out the window. High above the setting sun was a sliver of moon. He stared at it intently.

  The moon is too far. It’s beyond the average person’s reach. Perhaps in dreams…No. Father is wrong. The moon is no escape from reality. It’s a harsh and unforgiving wasteland. Our future is here. On Earth.

  He turned his back on the dying light and left the office.

  THE IMPERIAL HOTEL, Tokyo.

  A guard in a dark green military uniform was blocking the corridor. His insignia identified him as a member of the People’s Liberation Army, Second Artillery Corps. Two men in suits stood in front of him, taking turns protesting, trying to gain admittance to the room he blocked. A few steps down the corridor, a middle-aged woman in a tailored suit was waiting with an irritated look.

  One of the men waved a watermarked document in the soldier’s face and whined, “Don’t you understand? This is Tomoé Hayasaka, a member of the House of Representatives. We are her secretaries. She’s a public figure. This document confirms your government’s approval for this meeting. Please show us in immediately.”

  “I have no information on anyone named Hayasaka. Therefore, the National Heroes will not see her.” The soldier shook his head obstinately. The other secretary started shouting.

  “What’s going on here? You’d better explain yourself!”

  “The National Heroes are tired. My orders are to admit no one.”

  “Tired? Ms. Hayasaka went to great lengths to make these arrangements. At least let them know she’s here!”

  “Excuse me.” A new voice. They turned to see a young man in an ill-fitting blue suit. One of the secretaries glared skeptically.

  “Who are you? This is the Imperial Floor. Did you get on the wrong elevator?”

  “I don’t think so. Isn’t this where Jinqing Jiang and Penghui Cui are staying? The Chinese astronauts? I’m here to see them.”

  “You? Go home. Ms. Hayasaka has an appointment.”

  “I see.” The young man seemed surprised. He took a small object out of his pocket and held it out to the soldier.

  “Could you just show them this? Ask them to call me later when they have a chance.”

  The object resembled a blue passport folder. The three visitors smiled condescendingly. Obviously this young man, whoever he thought he was, would get little satisfaction from the pigheaded soldier. But the soldier took one look at the folder and disappeared into the room behind him.

  Moments later the door opened. Another young man, wearing a polo shirt, stepped into the corridor. The politician and her secretaries listened to the ensuing exchange, conducted in English, in disbelief.

  “I was hoping you’d come! It’s been five years. How’ve you been?”

  “Just fine, Jiang. I’m glad you remember me,” said Sohya.

  “How could I forget a fellow astronaut? Here, this belongs to you.” Jiang handed him the folder, and they shook hands warmly. The two secretaries stood dumbfounded.

  “Who are you?” said one. “And what was that?”

  “Oh, just an astronaut’s notebook. Standard CNSA issue,” said Sohya with studied nonchalance. He turned back to Jiang. “Can you spare some time? Though I think these people are ahead of me.”

  “No, no problem. Let’s—no, let’s not go into the room. How about a walk outside? Show me a bit of Tokyo.”

  “Sure. I know just the place.” They turned to leave, but the secretaries and the soldier blocked their path.

  “Please wait, Mr. Jiang. Ms. Hayasaka has been waiting to see you.”

  “National Hero Jiang, it’s dangerous for you to go out alone!”

  Jiang smiled and said impishly, “My colleague is in the room. Why don’t you negotiate with him? I’m in good hands with Aomine. He helped us deal with the meteor strike at Kunlun Base.”

  “He was there?” marveled the soldier.

  “Yes. So I don’t need an escort.” The two young men headed for the elevator, leaving behind four people who looked as if they’d been bewitched.

  THE COMMUTER CRUSH thinned once the two men emerged from Ueno Station. Jiang sighed with relief. “So this is Tokyo rush hour. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone out.”

  “Since you’re a National Hero, you must be used to limos.”

  “No, that’s worse. Imagine being stuck in traffic with Cui.”

  They laughed and waited for the light to change at the crossing to Ueno Park. Sohya looked off in the direction of the Imperial Palace. “Maybe I should’ve invited him.”

  “He wouldn’t have come. You saw what happened five years ago.”

  “Is he still upset about having to stay the extra year?”

  “You must be joking. When he got home he was a celebrity—the record holder for longest stay on the moon. He’d be embarrassed to be around you, that’s all. So he didn’t come.”

  “Then how did he feel about whatsername coming just to see him?”

  “I doubt he was pleased.” Jiang frowned. “I know what she’s after. She’s a member of that faction in your—what do you call it, House of Representatives? The group that’s pushing space development.”

  “In that case, I would think they’d get along,” said Sohya.

  “Different agenda. For politicians it’s just self-interest. A Japanese entrepreneur starts Sixth Continent and becomes an international celebrity. Politicians sit up and take notice. Space development gets them votes. But Sixth Continent isn’t a government project. They can’t take credit for it. So they cozy up to our astronauts. It gives them a few names to drop afterward.”

  “Is that what was happening? I guess I didn’t do Cui much of a favor then.” Sohya laughed briefly and looked at Jiang with admiration. “You see through everything, don’t you?”

  “It’s not the first time this has happened. We’re here for the Asian Space Agencies Conference, but we’ve already been dragged to all these different conferences and symposiums in different countries. There are always people with impressive titles who want to make contact. I don’t like to be suspicious, but it gets to where you can’t help it.”

  “Is that why you have a guard?”

/>   “For that, and for reactionaries opposed to space development who might want to stir up trouble. But mostly it’s to keep an eye on us. Did you see the insignia? Second Artillery Corps. They control our strategic missiles. They’re worried we’ve gotten too Westernized and liberal from attending all these overseas forums. We might spill some of their secrets.”

  Jiang looked intently at Sohya. “Thanks to that guard, we haven’t been able to see anything of Tokyo. I’m actually glad I got a chance to ride on a rush hour commuter train,” he said.

  Sohya laughed.

  They emerged onto the tree-lined avenue leading to the National Museum of Western Art. A stone building, a bit like a miniature parliament, came into view. The building itself was unremarkable but flanked by two strange objects: a life-size model of a blue whale and a rocket perched on an orange launch rail. Sohya stopped in front of the rocket and motioned toward the building.

  “This is the National Museum of Nature and Science. I thought you’d rather see this than a movie.”

  “A museum, huh? It’s much smaller than the Palace Museum.”

  “Give me a break. Your population is twelve times larger than ours. I know you’re proud of China, but reserve your judgment till you’ve seen it.”

  “Now that I think of it, the Palace Museum doesn’t have a blue whale.”

  They sat down on the lawn in front of the rocket and stretched out on their backs, almost in unspoken unison.

  “Well, no one will overhear us here. So what is it you want, Aomine?”

  “Sorry. This wasn’t just for old time’s sake.”

  “Sixth Continent, right?” Jiang looked over at him. “We get the news in China too. You’re one of the key people. And you need help, so you came to me. Am I getting warm?”

  “Okay.” Sohya held up his hands. He watched the families passing on the tree-lined drive as the breeze sent leaves spinning through the dusk.

  “I’ll get right to the point,” he said. “We need Xiwangmu.”

  “Ah, yes. The world’s finest lunar habitat module.”