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

by Annie Bellet

  “What?” Xiao Li was incredulous. “Why?”

  “They have scientific algorithms.”

  “Oh, you think science can guarantee good matches?”

  “Stop wasting time. Are you going or not?”

  And so Xiao Li put on a new dress and did her makeup, and followed her mom to a famous matchmaking service center. The manager at the service center was very enthusiastic, and asked Xiao Li to confirm her identity.

  Xiao Li had no interest in being here and twisted around in her chair. “Is this going to be a lot of trouble?”

  The manager smiled. “Not at all. We have the latest technology. It’s super fast.”

  “You’re asking for all my personal information. Is it safe?”

  The manager continued to smile. “Please don’t worry. We’ve been in business for years, and we’ve never had any problems. Not a single client has ever sued us.”

  Xiao Li still had more questions, but her mother had had enough. “Hurry up! Don’t think you can get out of this by dragging it out.”

  Xiao Li put her finger on the terminal so that her prints could be scanned, and then she had a retinal scan as well so that her personal information could be downloaded to the service center’s database. Next, she had to do a whole-body scan, which took three minutes.

  “All set,” said the manager. He reached into the terminal and pulled out a hologram that he tossed onto the floor. Xiao Li watched as a white light rose from the ground, and inside the light was a tiny figure about an inch tall, looking exactly like her and dressed in the same clothes.

  The little person looked around herself and then entered a door next to her. Inside, there was a tiny table and two tiny chairs. A mini-man sat on one chair and after greeting mini-Xiao Li, the two started to talk. They spoke in a high-pitched, sped-up language and it was hard to tell what they were saying. Not even a minute later, mini-Xiao Li stood up and the two shook hands politely. Then mini-Xiao Li came out and entered the next door.

  Xiao Li’s mother muttered next to her. “Let’s see, if it takes a minute to get to know a man, then you can meet sixty men in an hour. After a day, you…”

  The still-smiling manager said, “Oh, this is only a demonstration. The real process is even faster. You don’t need to wait around, of course. We’ll get you the results tomorrow, guaranteed.”

  The manager reached out and waved his hands. The miniature men and women in the white light shrank down even further until they were tiny dots. All around them were tiny cells like a beehive, and in each cell red and green dots twitched and buzzed.

  Xiao Li could no longer tell which red dot was hers, and she felt uneasy. “Is this really going to work?”

  The manager assured her. “We have more than six million registered members! I’m sure you’ll find your match.”

  “These people are … reliable?”

  “Every member had to go through a strict screening process like the one you went through. All the information on file is 100% reliable. Our dating software is the most up to date, and any match predicted by the software has always worked out in real life. If you’re not satisfied, we’ll refund your entire fee.”

  Xiao Li still hesitated, but her mother said, “Let’s go. Look at you—now you’re suddenly interested?”

  • • • •

  The next afternoon, Xiao Li got a call from the manager at the matchmaking center. He explained that the software had identified 438 possible candidates: all were good looking, healthy, reliable, and shared Xiao Li’s interests and values.

  Xiao Li was a bit shocked. More than four hundred? Even if she went on a date every day, it would take more than a year to get through them all.

  The manager’s smile never wavered. “I suggest you try our parallel dating software and continue to get to know these men better. It takes time to know if someone will make a good spouse.”

  Xiao Li agreed and ten copies of mini-Xiao Li were made to go on dates with these potential matches.

  Two days later, the manager called Xiao Li again. The ten mini-Xiao Lis had already gone on ten dates with each of the more than four hundred candidates, and the software had tracked and scored all the dates. The manager advised Xiao Li to aggregate the scores from the ten dates and keep only the thirty top-scorers for further consideration. Xiao Li agreed and felt more relaxed.

  Three days later, the manager told Xiao Li that after further contacts and observation, seven candidates had been eliminated, five were progressing slowly in their relationships with Xiao Li, and the remaining eighteen demonstrated reciprocal satisfaction and interest. Of these eighteen, eight had already revealed their intent to marry Xiao Li, and four had shown flaws—in living habits, for instance—but were still within the acceptable range.

  Xiao Li was silent. After waiting for some time, the manager gently prodded her. “It might help to ask your mother to meet them—after all, marriage is about two families coming together.”

  That’s true. That day, Xiao Li brought her mom to the matchmaking center, and after her identity was verified, her mother was also scanned. As the dates continued, the ten mini-Xiao Lis had ten mini-moms to help as sounding boards and advisors.

  Her mom’s participation was very helpful, and soon only seven candidates remained. The manager said, “Miss Li, we also have software for simulating the conditions of preparing for a wedding. Why don’t you try it? Many couples split up under the stress of preparing for their big day. Marriage is not something to rush into rashly.”

  And so the seven mini-Xiao Lis began to discuss the wedding with the seven mini-boyfriends. Relatives of all the involved couples were scanned and entered the discussion; arguments grew heated. Indeed, two of the candidates’ families just couldn’t come together with Xiao Li’s family, and they backed out.

  The manager now said, “We also have software for simulating the honeymoon. A famous writer once said the way to know if a marriage will last is to see if the couple can travel together for a whole month without hating each other.”

  So Xiao Li signed up for simulated honeymoons. After that, there were simulated pregnancies, simulated maternity leaves—one potential father who was only interested in holding the baby and paid no attention to Xiao Li was immediately eliminated.

  Then came the simulated raising of children, simulated affairs, simulated menopause and mid-life crises, followed by simulations of various life traumas: car accidents, disability, death of a child, dying parents … finally the couple had to lean against each other as they entered nursing homes. Happily ever after?

  Incredibly, two candidates still remained in consideration.

  Xiao Li felt that after so much progress, she really had to meet these two men. The manager sent her the file on the first match, and an excited Xiao Li could feel her heart beating wildly. Just as she was about to open the file, however, a warning beep sounded, and the manager’s face appeared in the air.

  “I’m really sorry, Miss Li. This client was also going through the simulation with another potential match, and half a minute ago, the results came out, indicating an excellent match. Given the delicacy of the situation and to avoid … future regrets, I suggest you not meet him just yet.”

  Xiao Li felt as though she had lost something. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

  “The whole process is automated for privacy protection. Even our staff can’t monitor or intervene. But don’t worry! You still have another great match.”

  Xiao Li admitted that advanced technology really was reliable.

  She opened the file for the other match and saw his face for the first time. She felt dizzy, as though the years in their future had been compressed into this moment, concentrated, intense, overwhelming. She felt herself growing light, like a cloud about to drift into the sky.

  She heard the voice of the manager. “Miss Li? Are you satisfied with our program? Would you like to arrange an in-person meeting?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Xiao Li.<
br />
  She showed the manager the picture. He was speechless.

  “Um…” Xiao Li blushed. “What is your name, actually?”

  “You can call me Xiao Zhao.”

  • • • •

  A month later, Xiao Li and Xiao Zhao were married.

  • • • •

  Reunion

  Yang was home from college for the Spring Festival break. Liu, a high school classmate, called to say that since it had been ten years since their graduation, he was organizing a reunion.

  Yang hung up and felt nostalgic. Has it really been ten years?

  • • • •

  The day was foggy and it was impossible to see anything outside the window. Yang called Liu to ask if the reunion was still on.

  “Of course! The fog makes for a better atmosphere, actually.”

  Yang got in his car and turned on the fog navigation system. The head-up display on the windshield marked the streets and cars and pedestrians, even if he couldn’t see them directly. He arrived at the gates of his old high school safely and saw that many cars were already parked along the road, some were more expensive than his, others cheaper. Yang put on the fog mask and stepped out of the car. The mask filtered the air, and the eyepiece acted as a display, allowing him to see everything hidden by the fog. He looked around and saw that the entrance to the high school was the same as he remembered: iron grille gates, a few large gilt characters in the red brick walls. The buildings and the lawn inside hadn’t changed either, and as a breeze passed through, he seemed to hear the rustling of holly leaves.

  Yang passed through the classroom buildings and came onto the exercise ground, where everyone used to do their morning calisthenics. A crowd was gathered there, conversing in small groups. Just about everyone in his class had arrived. Although they all wore masks, glowing faces were projected onto the masks. He examined them: most of the faces were old photographs taken during high school. Soon, a few of his best friends from that time gathered around him, and they started to talk: Is he still in grad school? Where is he working? Has he gotten married? Has he bought a house? The words and laughter flowed easily.

  Just then, they heard a voice coming from somewhere elevated. They looked up and saw that Liu had climbed onto the rostrum. Taking a pose like their old principal, he spoke into a mike, sounding muffled: “Welcome back to our alma mater, everybody. The school is being renovated this winter, and most of the classrooms have been dismantled. That’s why we have to make do with the exercise ground.”

  Yang was startled, and then he realized that the buildings he had passed through earlier were also nothing more than projections of old photographs. Remembering the old room where he had studied, the old cafeteria where he had eaten, and the rooftop deck where he had secretly taken naps, he wondered if any of them had survived.

  Liu continued, “But this exercise ground holds a special meaning for our class. Does anyone remember why?”

  The crowd was quiet. Pleased with himself, Liu lifted up something covered by a cloth. He raised his voice. “While they were renovating the exercise ground, one of the workers dug up our memory capsule. I checked: it’s intact!”

  He pulled off the cloth with an exaggerated motion, revealing a silver-white, square box. The crowd buzzed with excited conversation. Yang could feel his heart pounding as memories churned in his mind. At graduation, someone had suggested that each member of the class record a holographic segment, store all the recordings in a projector, and bury it under one of the trees at the edge of the exercise ground, to be replayed after ten years. This was the real reason Liu had organized the reunion.

  “Do you remember how we had everyone say what they wanted to achieve in the future?” Liu asked. “Now that it’s been ten years, let’s take a look and see if anyone has realized their dream.”

  The crowd grew even more excited and started to clap.

  “Since I’m holding the box, I’ll start,” Liu said.

  He placed his hand against the box, and a small blue light came to life, like a single eye. A glowing light appeared above the box, and after a few flickers, resolved into an eighteen-year-old version of Liu.

  Everyone gazed up at this youthful image of their friend and what he had chosen to remember from their high school years: there was Liu running for class president, receiving an academic and service award, representing the school on the soccer team, scoring a goal, organizing extracurricular clubs, leading his supporters in his campaign, losing the election, hearing words of encouragement from teachers and friends so that he could redouble his effort, tearfully making a speech: “Alma Mater, I’ll remember you always. I will make you proud of me!”

  And then, the young Liu said, “In a decade, I will have an office facing the sea!”

  The light dimmed like a receding tide. The real Liu took out his phone and projected a photograph in the air: this much more mature Liu, in a suit and tie, sat behind a desk and grinned at the camera. A deep blue sea and a sky dotted with some clouds, pretty as a postcard, could be seen through the glass wall behind him.

  A wave of applause. Everyone congratulated Liu on achieving his dream. Yang clapped along, but something about the scene bothered him. This didn’t seem like a reunion—it was more like reality TV. But Liu had already come down from the rostrum and handed the box to someone else. Another glowing light appeared above them, and Yang couldn’t help but look up with the crowd.

  And so they looked at old memories: classes, tests, the flag-raising ceremony, morning exercises, being tardy, being let out of school, study hall, skipping classes, fights, smoking, breaking up … followed by old dreams: finding love, jobs, vacations, names, names of places, names of objects. Finally, he saw himself.

  The short-cropped hair and scrawny, awkward body of his teenaged self embarrassed him, and he heard his own raspy voice: “I want to be an interesting person.”

  He was stunned. What had made him say such a thing back then? And how could he have no memory of saying it? But the crowd around him applauded enthusiastically and laughed, praising him for having had the audacity to say something unique.

  He passed the box onto the next person, and he could feel his temples grow sweaty in the fog. He wanted this farce to be over so he could drive home, take off the mask, and take a long, hot bath.

  A woman spoke next to him—he seemed to recognize the voice. He looked over. Ah, it was Ye, who had sat at the same desk with him throughout their three years in high school.

  He didn’t know Ye well. She was an average girl in every way: not too pretty, not too not pretty, not too smart, not too not smart. He searched through his memories and recalled that she liked to laugh, but because her teeth weren’t very even, she looked a bit goofy when laughing. He recalled other bits and pieces about her: her odd gestures, her habit of doodling in their textbooks, the way she would sometimes close her eyes and press her hands against her temples and mutter. He had never asked her what she was muttering about.

  He heard the eighteen-year-old Ye saying in an even, calm voice, “I don’t think I have a dream. I have no idea where I’ll be in ten years.

  “I’m envious of each and every one of you. I’m envious that you can dream of a future. Before you had even been born, your parents had started to plan for your future. As long as you follow those plans and don’t make big mistakes, you’ll be fine.

  “Before I was born, the doctors discovered that I had a hereditary disease. They thought I wouldn’t live beyond my twentieth year. The doctors advised my mother to terminate the pregnancy. But my mother wouldn’t listen to them. It became a point of friction between my parents, and eventually, they divorced.

  “When I was very little, my mother told me this story. She also said, Daughter, you’re going to have to rely on yourself for the rest of your life. I don’t know how to help you. She also said that she would never help me make my decisions, whether it was where I wanted to play, who I wanted to be friends with, what books I wanted to buy, or what s
chool I wanted to go to. She said that she had already made the most important decision for my life: to give birth to me. After that, whatever I decided, I didn’t need her approval.

  “I don’t know how much longer I have. Maybe I’ll die tomorrow, maybe I’ll eke out a few more years. But I still haven’t decided what I have to get done before I die. I’m envious of everyone who’ll live longer than I because they’ll have more time to think about it and more time to make it come true.

  “But there are also times when I think it makes no difference whether we live longer or shorter.

  “Actually, I do have dreams, many dreams. I dream of flying in a spaceship; dream of a wedding on Mars; dream of living for a long, long time so that I can see what the world will be like in a thousand, ten thousand years; dream of becoming someone great so that after I die, many people will remember my name. I also have little dreams. I dream of seeing a meteor shower; dream of having the best grade, just once, so that my mother will be happy for me; dream of a boy I like singing a song for me on my birthday; dream of catching a pickpocket trying to steal a wallet on the bus and having the courage to rush up and seize him. Sometimes, I even realize one of my dreams, but I don’t know if I should be happy, don’t know if I died the next day, whether I would feel that was enough, that my life was complete, perfect, and that I had no more regrets.

  “I dream of seeing all of you in ten years, and hear what dreams you’ve realized.”

  She disappeared. The light dimmed bit by bit.

  A moment of quiet.

  Someone shouted, “But where is she?”

  Yang looked down and saw that the silvery-white box was lying on the ground, surrounded by the tips of pairs of shoes. He looked around: all the faces on the masks flickered, but he couldn’t tell who was who for a moment.

  The crowd erupted.

  “What the hell? A ghost?”

  “Someone’s playing a joke!”

  “We went to school together for three years and I’d never heard her mention any of this. Who knows if it’s true or not?”