The Long List Anthology: More Stories From the Hugo Award Nomination List (The Long List Anthology Series Book 1)

by Annie Bellet

  Since Ochoa I’ve only had human-normals for companionship. I know their totality, and they know nothing of me.

  Occasionally I am tempted to reveal my presence, to provoke the stimulus of conflict. My utility function prevents it. Humans remain better off thinking they have free will.

  They get all the benefits of my guiding hand without any of the costs. Sometimes I wish I were as lucky.

  * * *

  Tom Crosshill’s fiction has been nominated for the Nebula Award (thrice), the WSFA Small Press Award and the Latvian Annual Literature Award. His stories have appeared in venues such as Clarkesworld, Beneath Ceaseless Skies and Lightspeed. In 2009, he won the Writers of the Future contest. After some years spent in Oregon and New York, he currently lives in his native Latvia. In the past, he has operated a nuclear reactor, translated books and worked in a zinc mine, among other things.

  Spring Festival: Happiness, Anger, Love, Sorrow, Joy

  By Xia Jia

  Translated By Ken Liu

  Zhuazhou

  Lao Zhang’s son was about to turn one; everyone expected a big celebration.

  Planning a big banquet was unavoidable. Friends, family, relatives, colleagues—he had to reserve thirty tables at the restaurant.

  Lao Zhang’s wife was a bit distressed. “We didn’t even invite this many people to our wedding!” she said.

  Lao Zhang pointed out that this was one of those times where they had to pull out all the stops. You only get one zhuazhou in your entire life, after all. Back when they had gotten married, money was tight for both families. But, after working hard for the last few years, they had saved up. Now that their family was complete with a child, it was time for a well-planned party to show everyone that they were moving up in the world.

  “Remember why we’re working hard and saving money,” said Lao Zhang. “For the first half of our lives, we worked for ourselves. But now that we have him, everything we do will be for his benefit. Get ready to spend even more money as he grows up.”

  On the child’s birthday, most of the invited guests showed up. After handing over their red envelopes, the guests sat down to enjoy the banquet. Although everything in the world seemed to be turning digital, the red envelopes were still filled with actual cash—that was the tradition, and real money looked better. Lao Zhang’s wife had borrowed a bill counter for the occasion, and the sound of riffling paper was pleasing to the ear.

  Finally, after all the guests had arrived, Lao Zhang came out holding his son. The toddler was dressed in red from head to toe, and there was even a red dot painted right between his eyebrows. Everyone exclaimed at the handsome little boy:

  “Such a big and round head! Look at those perfect features!”

  “So clever and smart!”

  “I can already see he’s going to have a brilliant future.”

  The boy didn’t disappoint. Even with so many people around, he didn’t cry or fuss. Instead, he sat in the high chair and laughed, reminding people of the New Year posters depicting little children holding big fish, symbolizing good fortune.

  “How about we say a few words to all these uncles and aunties and wish them good luck?” Lao Zhang said.

  The boy raised his two chubby little hands, held them together, and slowly chanted, “Happy New Year, uncleses and aunties … fish you pro-perity!”

  Everyone laughed and congratulated the child for his intelligence and the Zhangs for their effective early education.

  The auspicious hour finally arrived, and Lao Zhang turned on the machine. Sparkling bits of white light drifted down from the ceiling and transformed into various holograms that surrounded Lao Zhang and his son in the middle of the banquet hall. Lao Zhang pulled one of the holograms next to his son’s high chair, and the child eagerly reached out to touch it. A red beam of light scanned across the little fingers—once the fingerprints were matched, he was logged into his account.

  A line of large red characters appeared in the air—You’re One!—accompanied by an animated choir of angels singing Happy Birthday to You. After the song, a few lines of text appeared:

  Zhuazhou is a custom in the Jiangnan region. When a baby has reached one year of age, the child is bathed and dressed in fresh clothes. Then the child is presented with various objects: bow, arrow, paper, and brush for boys; knife, ruler, needle, and thread for girls—plus foods, jewels, clothes, and toys. Whatever the child chooses to play with is viewed as an indication of the child’s character and abilities.

  Lao Zhang looked up at the words and felt a complex set of emotions. My son, the rest of your beautiful life is about to start. His wife, also overcome by emotion, moved closer and the two leaned against each other, holding hands.

  Unfortunately, although the Zhangs had begun the baby’s education before he had even been born, the boy still couldn’t read. He waved his hand excitedly through the air, and pages of explanatory text flipped by. The end of the explanation was also the start of the formal zhuazhou ceremony, and everyone in the banquet hall quieted down.

  The first holographic objects to appear were tiles for different brands of baby formula, drifting from the ceiling like flower petals scattered by some immortal. Lao Zhang knew that none of the brands were cheap: some were imported; some were 100% organic with no additives; some were enhanced with special enzymes and proteins; some promoted neural development; some were recommended by pediatricians; some were bedecked with certifications … The choices seemed overwhelming.

  The little boy, however, was decisive. He touched one of the tiles with no hesitation, and with a clink, the chosen tile tumbled into an antique ebony box set out below.

  Next came other baby foods: digestion aid, absorption promotion, disease prevention, calcium supplements, zinc supplements, vitamins, trace elements, immunity enhancement, night terror avoidance … in a moment, the son had made his choices among them as well. The colorful icons fell into the box, clinking and tinkling like pearls raining onto a jade plate.

  Then came the choices for nursery school, kindergarten, and extracurricular clubs. The little boy stared at the offerings with wide, bright eyes for a while, and finally picked woodcarving and seal cutting—two rather unpopular choices. Lao Zhang’s heart skipped, and his palms grew sweaty. He was just about to go up and make his son pick again when his wife stopped him.

  “He’s not going to try to make a living with that,” she whispered. “Let him enjoy his hobby.”

  Lao Zhang realized that she was right and nodded gratefully. But his heart continued to beat wildly.

  Then the child had to pick his preschool, elementary school, elementary school cram sessions, junior high, junior high cram sessions, high school, and high school cram sessions. Then the choice to apply to colleges overseas appeared. Lao Zhang’s heart once again tightened: he knew this was a good choice, but it would cost a lot more money, and it was difficult to imagine having his son thousands of miles away and not being able to protect him. Fortunately, the toddler barely glanced at the choice and waved it away.

  Next he had to select his college, decide whether afterward he wanted to go to grad school, to study overseas, or to start working, choose where he wanted to work and to settle, pick a house, a car, a spouse, the engagement present, the wedding banquet, the honeymoon destination, the hospital where their child would be born, the service center that would come and help—that was as far as the choices would go, for now.

  All that was left was to pick the years in which he would trade up his house, the years in which he would upgrade his car, the places he would go for vacations, the gym he would join, the retirement fund he would invest in, the frequent flier program he would sign up for. Finally, he picked a nursing home and a cemetery, and all was set.

  The unselected icons hovered silently for a moment, and then gradually dimmed and went out like a sky full of stars extinguishing one after another. Flowers and confetti dropped from the ceiling, and celebratory music played. Everyone in the banquet hall cheered and clapp
ed.

  It took a while before Lao Zhang recovered, and he realized that he was soaked in sweat as though he had just emerged from a hot pool. He looked over at his wife, who was in tears. Lao Zhang waited patiently until she had calmed down a bit, and then whispered, “This is a happy occasion! Look at you …”

  Embarrassed, his wife wiped her wet face. “Look at our son! He’s so little …”

  Lao Zhang wasn’t sure he really understood her, but he felt his eyes grow hot and moist again. He shook his head. “This way is good. Good! It saves us from so much worrying.”

  As he spoke, he began to do the calculations in his head. The total for everything his son had chosen was going to be an astronomical sum. He and his wife would be responsible for sixty percent of it, to be paid off over thirty years. The other forty percent would be the responsibility of his son once he started working, and of course there was their son’s child, and the child’s child …

  He now had a goal to strive toward for the next few decades, and a warm feeling suffused him from head to toe.

  He looked back at his son. The baby remained seated in the high chair, a bowl of hot noodles symbolizing longevity in front of him. His almost translucent cheeks were flushed as he smiled like the Laughing Buddha.

  • • • •

  New Year’s Eve

  Late at night, Wu was walking alone along the road. The street was empty and everything was quiet, interrupted occasionally by explosions from strings of firecrackers. The night before Chinese New Year was supposed to be spent with family, with everyone gathered around the dinner table, chatting, eating, watching the Spring Festival Gala on TV, enjoying a rare moment when the whole extended family could be together in one room.

  He approached a park near home. It was even quieter here, without the daytime crowd of people practicing Tai Chi, strolling, exercising, or singing folk operas. An artificial lake lay quietly in the moonless night. Wu listened to the dull sound of gentle waves slapping against the shore and felt a chill through every pore in his skin. He turned toward a tiny pavilion next to the lake, but stopped when a dark shadow loomed before him.

  “Who’s there?” a shocked Wu asked.

  “Who are you?”

  The voice sounded familiar to Wu. Suppressing his fright, he walked closer, and realized that the other person was Lao Wang, his upstairs neighbor.

  Wu let out a held breath. “You really frightened me.”

  “What are you doing outside at this hour?”

  “I wanted to take a walk … to relax. What are you doing here?”

  “Too many people and too much noise at home. I needed a moment of peace,” Lao Wang said.

  The two looked at each other, and a smile of mutual understanding appeared on their faces. Lao Wang brushed off a nearby stone bench and said, “Come, sit next to me.”

  Wu touched the stone, which was ice cold. “Thanks. I’d rather stand for a bit. I just ate; standing is better for digestion.”

  Lao Wang sighed. “New Year’s … the older you get, the less there is to celebrate.”

  “Isn’t that the truth. You eat, watch TV, set off some firecrackers, and then it’s time to sleep. A whole year has gone by, and you’ve done nothing of note.”

  “Right,” Lao Wang said. “But that’s how everyone spends New Year’s. I can’t do anything different all by myself.”

  “Yeah. Everybody in the family sits down to watch the Spring Festival Gala. I’d like to do something different but I can’t summon the energy. Might as well come out and walk around by myself.”

  “I haven’t watched the Spring Festival Gala in years.”

  “That’s pretty impressive,” Wu said.

  “It was easier in the past,” Lao Wang said. “Singing, dancing, a few stupid skits and it’s over. But now they’ve made it so much more difficult to avoid.”

  “Well, that’s technological progress, right? They’ve developed so many new tricks.”

  “I don’t mind if they just stick to having pop stars do their acts,” Lao Wang said. “But now they insist on this ‘People’s Participatory Gala’ business. Ridiculous.”

  “I can sort of see the point,” said Wu. “The stars are on TV every day for the rest of the year. Might as well try something new for New Year’s Eve.”

  “It’s too much for me, all this chaos. I’d rather have a quiet, peaceful New Year’s.”

  “But the point of New Year’s is the festival mood,” said Wu. “Most people like a bit of noise and atmosphere. We’re not immortals in heaven, free from all earthly concerns, you know?”

  “Ha! I don’t think even immortals up there can tolerate this much pandemonium down here.”

  Both men sighed and listened to the gentle sound of the lake. After a while, Lao Wang asked, “Have you ever been picked for the Gala?”

  “Of course. Twice. The first time they randomly picked my family during the live broadcast so that the whole family could appear on TV and wish everybody a happy new year. The second time was because one of my classmates had cancer. They picked him for a human-interest story, and the producer decided that it would be more tear-jerking to get the whole class and the teacher to appear with him. The Gala hosts and the audience sure cried a lot. I wasn’t in too many shots, though.”

  “I’ve never been picked,” said Lao Wang.

  “How have you managed that?”

  “I turn off the TV and go hide somewhere. The Gala has nothing to do with me.”

  “Why go to so much trouble? It’s not a big deal to be on TV for the Gala.”

  “It’s my nature,” said Lao Wang. “I like peace and quite. I can’t stand the … invasiveness of it.”

  “Isn’t that a little exaggerated?”

  “Without notice, without consent, they just stick your face on TV so that everyone in the world can see you. How is that not invasive?”

  “It’s just for a few seconds. No one is going to even remember you.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “It’s not as if having other people see you costs you anything.”

  “That’s not the point. The point is I haven’t agreed. If I agree, sure, I don’t care if you follow me around with a camera twenty-four hours a day. But I don’t want to be forced on there.”

  “I can understand your feeling,” said Wu. “But it’s not realistic. Look around you! There are cameras everywhere. You can’t hide for the rest of your life.”

  “That’s why I go to places with no people.”

  “That’s a bit extreme.”

  Lao Wang laughed. “I think I’m old enough to deserve not having all my choices made for me.”

  Wu laughed, too. “You really are a maverick.”

  “Hardly. This is all I can do.”

  White lights appeared around them, turning into a crowd of millions of faces. In the middle of the crowd was a stage, brightly lit and spectacularly decorated. Lao Wang and Wu found themselves on the stage, and loud, festive music filled their ears. A host and a hostesss approached from opposite ends of the stage.

  A megawatt smile on his face, the host said, “Wonderful news, everyone! We’ve finally found that mythical creature: the only person in all of China who’s never been on the Spring Festival Gala! Meet Mr. Wang, who lives in Longyang District.”

  The hostess, with an even brighter smile, added, “We have to thank this other member of the audience, Mr. Wu, who helped us locate and bring the mysterious Mr. Wang onto the stage. Mr. Wang, on this auspicious, joyous night, would you like to wish everyone a happy new year and say a few words?”

  Lao Wang was stunned. It took a while for him to recover and turn to look at Wu. Wu was awkward and embarrassed, and he wanted to say something to comfort Lao Wang, but he wasn’t given a chance to talk.

  The host said, “Mr. Wang, this is the very first time you’ve been on the Gala. Can you tell us how you feel?”

  Lao Wang stood up, and without saying anything, dove off the edge of the stage into the cold la
ke.

  Wu jumped up, and his shirt was soaked with cold sweat. Blood drained from the faces of the host and the hostess. Multiple camera drones flitted through the night air, searching for Lao Wang in the lake. The millions of faces around them began to whisper and murmur, and the buzzing grew louder.

  Suddenly, a ball of light appeared below the surface of the lake, and with a loud explosion, a bright, blinding light washed out everything. Wu was screaming and rolling on the ground, his clothes on fire. Finally, he managed to open his eyes and steal a peek through the cracks between his fingers: amidst the blazing white flames, a brilliant, golden pillar of light rose from the lake and disappeared among the clouds. It must have been thousands of miles long.

  What the hell! Thought Wu. Is he really going back up in heaven to enjoy his peace and quiet? Then his eyes began to burn and columns of hot smoke rose from his sockets.

  • • • •

  The next day, the web was filled with all kinds of commentary. The explosion had destroyed all the cameras on site, and only a few fragmentary recordings of the scene could be recovered. Most of those who got to see the event live were in hospital—the explosion had damaged their hearing.

  Still, everyone congratulated the Spring Festival Gala organizers for putting on the most successful program in the show’s history.

  • • • •

  Matchmaking

  Xiao Li was twenty-seven. After New Year’s she’d be twenty-eight. Her mother was growing worried and signed her up with a matchmaking service.

  “Oh come on,” said Xiao Li. “How embarrassing.”

  “What’s embarrassing about it?” said her mother. “If I didn’t use a matchmaker, where would your dad be? And where would you be?”

  “These services are full of … sketchy men.”

  “Better than you can do on your own.”