by Alan Tien
Technically the cab was a robot too, but I hadn’t thought about it that way before. It was just an automated car. They used to call it “driverless car,” but that’s a silly name. Who would want to drive a car? And even if you wanted to, it wouldn’t have been possible without illegal augmentation since the speeds and reaction times required to drive on the roads are way beyond normal human capabilities.
We finally had 30 minutes of downtime. It would take that long to get out to the Sub-Orbital airport. They had to put the SO airport way out of downtown because the SO rockets were so loud, even the sound dampening systems couldn’t completely cover the blast offs. The rattling, like the precursor of an earthquake, was unnerving as well.
Though nobody said it, I guess it was also a precaution against a catastrophic launch failure. The last time there was an explosion on the runway was when I was a young boy. Well, the last time I heard of one anyway. The Ministry of Transportation (MoT) was massively embarrassed with that failure, with the Minister losing his job due to not having a head anymore. I’m sure the MoT worked closely with the Ministry of Communication (MoC) on “public relations” to ensure future mishaps didn’t leak out. Ministers didn’t like “losing face,” literally.
Exhaustion was catching up with me, so I just zoned out the window, trusting Willstin had everything under control. It was astounding how we went kilometer after kilometer over the unending city sprawled out below the raised highway.
Chang Lin had fallen asleep, her head resting lightly on my shoulder. I was careful not to move.
We merged smoothly onto the maglev (magnetic levitation) train, which would ferry our taxi the majority of the way to the SO airport. Once we were in the maglev, the noise in the cabin dropped away and the ride became noticeably smoother. Our taxi idled to a stop on the rollers in the train cabin. Even though I had taken the maglev in from the SO airport when I had arrived in China, I was still amazed by it.
Ostensibly the system saved money because the maglev’s energy and maintenance costs were much lower than that of other forms of mass transportation. However, I knew the cost of building a car ferry maglev was exorbitant. Supposedly this one ran in a huge loop from Shanghai all the way up to Beijing. It ran continuously. Whenever a particular train broke down, it was smoothly shunted off the parallel emergency track. Only China could afford such a system. It really wasn’t a matter of saving energy, even though that’s what MoC proclaimed. It was clearly China telling the world, “I have the money and the technology and the power to do this. And you don’t.”
After the energy crisis of 2042, most of the countries entered the spiral of decline. These countries soon learned that they could bottom out at a barely functioning level, only if they accepted China’s handouts at the cost of joining China’s hegemony. Those few countries that refused, hoping for support from the US, decayed into chaos. Their neighboring countries closed up the borders, striving to contain the spreading anarchy, like quarantining an entire country.
The richer Western countries lasted a decade longer, their decline on a gentler slope. They had stockpiles of fuel, possessed the technology and money to start converting over to alternative forms of energy earlier, and had generations of wealth built up, just to blow it all away in one generation on fuel at exorbitant black market rates. One by one, these Western countries fell into China’s sway, with only the US holding out, based on some misguided sense of patriotism and good ole USA can-do spirit.
But the fact was the US had built their entire economy on oil. The famous businessman Elon Musk had tried to show the way out with his Tesla car company, but he was only one man swimming against the powerful tide. The government and big business conspired to keep the oil party running as long as it could. The oil companies kept funding reports showing the boundless oil fields still available, ever deeper hidden, ever harder to extract, but never running dry. The American public happily partied on, eager to accept the lies, too drunk on the fumes to recognize the cracks in the system. Until it was too late.
At least my US and China modern history classes agreed on the analysis for why the US eventually fell, why it was forced to join China’s hegemony just to avoid the final fate of anarchy. There were still differences in the details of the retelling though.
As my US history teacher explained it, China had underhandedly negotiated the futures of the then undeveloped African countries for mere pittances, for helping the Africans build out their infrastructure with Chinese labor and Chinese equipment. It had reminded me of how the US had bought Manhattan from the Native Indians for some trinkets worth 60 guilders, which wasn’t a lot even if you converted it to modern renminbi, or “redbacks” as we called the Chinese currency in the US. My US history teacher implied that the Chinese tricked the poor Africans trading away their long term future – their priceless oil fields and mineral deposits – for the short term improvement in daily living. The Americans, on the other hand, were handing out tons of humanitarian aid, some through NGO’s (“Non-Government Organizations” - what a dumb name) and some directly from the US government. We didn’t hand out our aid with “strings attached,” my teacher said righteously. Even though we had eventually lost to China, we fought a fair fight. We were the world’s protectors, trying to stave off the power-hungry and amoral leadership of China. We, the students, felt proud of our honor, our beneficence, our clearly superior moral fiber.
Then, I went to China and modern history inverted itself. My Chinese history teacher explained how brilliant the Chinese government officials had been. They had strategically partnered with the weaker countries, playing a long game of “Go,” surrounding the Western nations with meaningless moves at the edge of the geopolitical game board. The Western countries were paralyzed by the demagoguery of democracy, the constant rotation of politicians that dictated government policy be short term, to be completed within an election cycle. By the time the Western countries woke up to the energy crisis upon them, it was too late. Their “friends” in the Middle East had sucked their own fields dry, and China had locked up all the remaining oil reserve in the world with not only long term contracts but with the even more binding ties of government treaties and promises of ongoing friendship. The poor hapless Americans, once so proud, had to come begging for the protection of China. The Chinese - never the aggressor, always the defender – could only do what any father would do: take in the poor, starving children, be that as it may they’re being foreign devils. Us obedient students nodded at the wise philosophy of Confucius and felt the weight of responsibility of upholding the great traditions of Chinese culture.
Wow, was I one confused kid. The Chinese half of me said, “Yeah, take that, dumb Americans!”
My US half of me said, “Damn Chinese, so superior, always rubbing their 5000 years of history in everyone’s noses. They’re just lucky President Walker didn’t press the red nuke button.”
“As if that would’ve mattered. The Chinese had laser satellites up in the sky by that time and could’ve easily shot them down.”
“See! My point exactly! They totally broke the Outer Space Treaty. Those lying sons of bitches.”
“Dude, don’t give me that crap. The Americans also had secret laser satellites. It’s not my fault that the Chinese shot them down first. The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”
“Don’t go quoting Sun Tzu on me. It’s still called fighting when you shot down our satellites.”
“Did anyone get killed, on either side? No? Hmm, that sounds like a pretty successful war to me.”
This internal debate could’ve continued on for a lot longer. I didn’t know which side was right. I was literally torn down the middle. But one thing for sure, the US couldn’t afford a maglev. Most people had to take the biodiesel busses, which let out smelly fumes, released very much like a mechanical fart, as if its engines didn’t agree with the plant fuel. Only the uber rich could even afford a private taxi. The rest had to walk or ride bikes, which you shouldn�
��t do very much of outside with the air pollution index spiking over 400 on most days.
The US couldn’t even afford many of the basic robots that kept the streets clean in China and the houses tidy inside. The US still used human labor for most of these jobs that the Chinese deemed beneath them to do. And the US was the second richest country in the world. I literally couldn’t imagine what it was like in the other countries. The MoC kept a pretty tight lid on that kind of info. We only knew things were great in MK, ok in the US and a handful of favored countries like Mexico, and everybody else was barely getting by, thanks to the paternal care of China.
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I must’ve dozed off during my weighty ponderings.
“Wake up. Time to get this show on the road.” I don’t know where Willstin got his language module. It certainly wasn’t the staid one I had picked, “Standard Anglo-American English, (casual).” I didn’t want Willstin to be mouthing off to the teachers during the oral exam.
I noticed that we had already exited the maglev, and our taxi was turning into the departure terminal. Chang Lin stretched and rubbed her eyes. I didn’t point out the little bit of drool she had left on my shoulder. I was getting worried about the 5,472 RMB charge on the taxi meter. I only had 10,000 RMB, stolen from my mom. But the car door swung open and the taxi said, “Thank you bright light,” the standard phrase to welcome and say farewell to guests in Chinese.
Willstin said, “You’re welcome, keep the change.” He had tipped 5,000 RMB.
“Damn, you’re generous!” I said.
“Got to take care of my brothers,” replied Willstin, as he jumped into my black backpack.
“Where are you getting the money?”
“Don’t you worry about it. Let’s just say money isn’t a problem. Now let’s get to immigration. I have your tickets already. First class, of course!”
I threw on my backpack, with the top open so I could easily hear Willstin’s directions. Chang Lin followed, all cheerful. I guess the 20 minute nap was enough for her. If anything, my dozing off made me even more tired. Although Willstin was quite light, I felt like I was carrying a fully-loaded army regulation backpack. And that I had already been on a 10 mile march.
We went through security without issue, though there were cameras everywhere. The security robots didn’t even look at Willstin; he might’ve just been my doll. But my palms were getting sweaty. We were walking up to immigration.
“Passports.” Chang Lin and I had gone up to the same window. We handed the cards over along with our travel authorization papers. The security robot scanned the chops slowly. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead. “Officer,” the robot said, “Can you come over here please?”
The smartly dressed officer stepped down from his glass-enclosed podium and came over to our station. “What is it, security #17?” I considered running right there and then.
“Sir, their passports are valid. Their travel authorization is in order with the official chop from their school. Protocol requires me to get human verification on their reason for travel.” Security #17 recited.
The human officer turned to us, “So why are you going to the US?”
I wanted to say, “Read the damn travel authorization,” but I didn’t think that would help our situation. I looked at Chang Lin, letting her speak in Chinese.
Chang Lin said, “We are going to a Robotics competition sir.” I turned my backpack around and unzipped it, so the officer could see Willstin. Thankfully, he played dead.
The officer looked at our robot skeptically. “That’s a robot? Looks like a doll to me.”
“Yes sir, a dancing robot, we can show you,” I improvised.
The officer ignored me, and asked Chang Lin, “Why bother with a US competition? And why are you going with this foreign devil?”
I wanted to scream, “Hey, I’m right here. And I understand Chinese! I just spoke to you in Chinese!”
Chang Lin didn’t break a sweat. “We’re going to this competition as a warm up to the China one. I’m going with this guy because he’s the engineer.” She said that last word with a sneer. “Somebody’s got to do the actual building of the robot when I’m working on the dance algorithms.”
The officer was satisfied with that answer, the proper order in the world re-established. “Huh. Well, ok, go show those foreign devils how we build robots in Zhong Guo.”
I zipped up my backpack and was about to reach for our passports, when the officer said, “Wait. Why are you traveling so late all alone?”
I was stunned and could only utter a few “ums.” But Chang Lin stepped up, “Because it’s the last flight out today. The competition starts tomorrow. And then we return immediately after. I want to minimize my time in the US.” She was really playing up the discrimination card, and the officer was eating it up. I really hoped Willstin heard and was booking our return flight as we spoke, in case the officer checked.
“I understand,” the officer nodded. “Last formality and you’re on your way. I just have to check with your parents.”
I stuttered, “Umm, my mom’s in an important government meeting in Beijing. With Minister Li. Ministry of Education.”
Even Chang Lin looked scared. She managed a small, “Ok. But I think they’re asleep right now…”
But the officer had turned away already and returned to his glass cage. I whispered to Willstin, “Do something!”
“I’m working on it,” Willstin replied. “It should be fine as long as he doesn’t ask anything hard. I’m splicing in recent videos of Chang Lin’s parents, extrapolating for a dark room in the middle of the night. It should be fine.” Willstin’s voice didn’t sound like it would be fine. I guess he had learned to lie, or at least finesse the truth, but hadn’t yet managed to control the emotions module.
“Great. What do we do?” I was panicking.
“Sit tight. There’s nothing to do except pray.” I didn’t know AI was religious.
After a few agonizing minutes, the officer returned. He glared angrily at me, “Your mom is not accessible at the moment.” I tried not to look victorious with an “I told you so” attitude. I looked down, repentantly. His glare continued a couple of seconds longer, as if his eyes could give me a dressing down.
Then, he turned his attention to Chang Lin. He might as well have been a different person. He smiled and said, “Your parents are very nice. They are concerned about your travel and asked that I make sure you were safe, considering your…company.” He glared at me again. “I promised to make sure you at least got to the plane safely. Then the airline crew can take over.”
Chang Lin smiled sweetly, “Thank you sir.” She creased her brows slightly, “This is my first trip to the hinterlands. I am a little nervous.”
The officer’s protective training kicked in. “Don’t you worry, little sis. Officer Chang is here to save you!”
“Oh thank you, Officer Chang. You are too kind.” I felt sick at her syrupy tone.
“Security #17, let them pass!”
Security #17 bowed slightly, handed back our paperwork, and dismissed us with, “Next.”
As we cleared security and immigrations, I asked Willstin what had happened. He explained that Chang Lin’s parents, from a quite prominent Shanghai family, had promised to mention Officer Chang’s name to the Head of Shanghai Police for a job well done taking care of their precious daughter.
When he tried to call my mom, he got the “out of office for important government business” message. He showed some initiative by calling the Beijing security branch, but got rebuked for bothering the capital’s officers with such a trivial issue. Couldn’t he see the official Ministry of Education chop at the bottom of his mom’s out of office message? Willstin chuckled that he didn’t even have to interfere with that memo, which was legitimate. No wonder Officer Chang was so angry with me. He had lost face in front of his superiors. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
Chapter 3: Journey to the West
"Go
West, young man"
--- American author Horace Greeley, related to the then-popular concept of Manifest Destiny.
“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.”
--- Lao Tzu
We boarded the plane.
It’s really a hybrid jet and rocket. It lifts off vertically like a rocket to quickly get into sub-orbital space. Then it lands like a jet, horizontally on tires. The best – or worst, depending on your body – was the weightlessness part at the apex of the trajectory, when we entered sub-space.
Most people feel ‘space sickness’ – nausea, sweating, and the grossest part in a plane, vomiting. During the safety briefing, a fair amount of time was telling the passengers to keep the puke bag nearby. They didn’t call it the puke bag, but that’s what I called it. On my flight over, a lady started barfing. She was in such bad shape, she couldn’t get the bag up to her mouth. Damn, it was disgusting seeing particles of her vomit floating around the cabin until we hit re-entry and gravity pulled the pieces down – on whoever happened to be under them. It was so gross, I almost hurled myself, even though I wasn’t space sick.
I started sharing the story with Chang Lin, but surprisingly she didn’t want to hear about it. I stuffed Willstin in the overhead bin, pretending to tuck him in for the night. “Good night, sleep tight, see you in the morning light baby,” I cooed. Maybe it was just the cabin lighting, but I think Willstin glowered at me, his eyes changing to a cooler shade of blue.
Showing off my vast experience in sub-orbital flights, I said, “Don’t worry Chang Lin. These flights are super safe. The initial blast off is a bit heavy, about 2-3 Gs, but that only lasts for a few minutes.”
She patted my arm. “I’m not worried, Austin. I’m looking forward to this. It’s like an awesome roller coaster ride. But if you’re scared, you can hold my hand.”
