by Hao Jingfang
And Theon was someone who could influence the whole delegation. He held the power to change a wall—a wall that was both thicker and more transparent than Martian glass. The Thales Group was Earth’s largest commercial web market operator. Countless people went to the Thales Group’s platform for entertainment, business, news, and friendship; to sell knowledge; to buy information. Anyone could enter the glitzy market with a thin screen in hand. This was a wall as thick as Earth’s atmosphere, one that enveloped the whole globe and crossed national boundaries. From presidents to religious fundamentalists, everyone relied on the web to sell themselves. There was no greater shared resource, and therefore Theon was the only one who could influence all the delegates.
She gazed at Theon, whose charming smile appeared on the home page of every social network. He wasn’t a dull man; in fact, he looked quite intelligent. She knew that he was her only chance to influence the negotiations between the worlds.
THE ATELIER
The time that Luoying and Gielle agreed to was ten in the morning. The place: Bujuxie Garment Atelier, Russell District.
The weather was excellent today. There was no wind and no sand in the air beyond the dome. The sun glowed brightly against the dark sky; all was at peace.
Eko sat next to Theon on the tube train. They each stared out the transparent wall, not speaking. Eko was still angry with Theon. The tube train glided smoothly along the tunnel, and houses and footpaths swept through Eko’s view. He, however, wasn’t paying attention to the view. His mind was dominated by the unpleasant argument from the night before, ending with a slammed door.
* * *
“And so you did nothing?”
Eko had leaped out of his chair at this, consumed with rage.
“Yes.”
“Not even a regional test?”
“I did do a test run with the New York Film Critics Circle. Oh, also with the Royal Academy of Arts in London.”
“Did you give them the technology or sell it to them?”
“They were sales. But only the chips, not the designs. One deal was for nine million dollars, and the other for seven-point-six million pounds.”
“So you made a profit.”
“Not much. These are rounding errors.”
Eko choked back his words. He stared at Theon, who was sunken deep in his sofa, holding the stem of his wineglass with three fingers, staring expressionlessly at the liquid within. Remembering Arthur Davosky’s curled up, disease-ravaged body and Janet Brook’s tearstained face, Eko’s heart convulsed. He couldn’t understand how Theon could be so cold, as though talking about a matter of accounting. He suppressed his anger and continued the discussion, though the muscles of his back tensed.
“My teacher gave his life for this technology.”
“I had no other choice. Earth isn’t Mars, and there are some things that … have no market.”
“You’re talking about profit.”
“Don’t be so dismissive of profit. The Thales Group has millions of employees around the globe. All of them depend on profit.”
“How much do you make, on average, from a single IP vendor?”
“A penny, give or take.”
“You won’t give up even a penny?”
“Are you aware how many sellers there are on our platform?”
“But you have income from the stores, the theme parks, and advertising. Why can’t you give up even a little? You know that an open artistic space, a commons, benefits everyone.”
“Really? You believe every creator thinks this way?”
“Any creator worthy of that name should think this way.”
A mocking smile appeared on Theon’s face. He swirled his glass and looked at Eko.
“It appears that Arthur did pass on his delusions to you.”
Eko picked up his coat and stormed out of the hotel suite.
It was Theon’s attitude that hurt him the most. The way he had dismissed his teacher’s hope, like flicking the ash from the end of his cigarette, stung. He had called Davosky’s dreams delusions, denigrating his life’s choice as naïve. Eko could not tolerate it. In his mind he could see his teacher crossing eighty million kilometers of empty space to carry back a chip, leaving all he loved behind; he could see Davosky looking up at Mars at night while Janet Brook looked back at Earth, divided by the unbridgeable vacuum. He refused to accept that all these sacrifices were for nothing, to be dismissed in a single sentence. It was like watching a man pushing a giant black boulder up the mountain, only to have a finger nudge it off the path near the top, plunging it into the abyss.
Eko believed in his teacher’s choice. True creators would welcome such a space. Yes, an artist would have less income, but they would also have ten times the audience. Even those who could not or would not pay would go experience their art, and such an archive would give creations a vastly greater space to exist. All real creators cared only that others cared about their art, and nothing else. How could this be wrong? How could it be a delusion?
Eko strode down the empty corridor, shouting inside himself. Profit! Why are you thinking only of profit? Why do you call anything that doesn’t care about profit a delusion? All you know is expansion, empire building, love of numbers in a spreadsheet. You have no understanding of the world; you have no right to criticize. You are nothing but a merchant!
The lump in Eko’s throat grew. He had not been so angry for a long time. He had always believed that he was there to understand the workings of the real world, and anger had no place in that process. But on this night, the emotions he had been tamping down for days finally erupted.
Theon called out after him.
“Eko, a moment, please.”
Eko stopped and twisted his head around, his face stony. He saw Theon standing at the door of his suite, one hand against the frame. The harsh hallway light and the deep shadows made it impossible to see his expression.
“Are you coming to the negotiation tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
In his mind Eko shouted, Of course I’m going. Why wouldn’t I?
Abruptly he calmed down, laughing inside. This was an opportunity. I’ll go tomorrow to disrupt your plans, to ruin your trading hopes. I’ll reveal you for who you are and then laugh at you, mocking you for being full of delusions.
Instantly he felt better. He walked back to his room and fell into bed, though the dreams ensured the sleep wasn’t restful.
* * *
The next morning Eko got up early and entered the central archive to browse the personal spaces of Gielle and Brenda.
The central archive was completely open inside. Once he had found their ateliers, everything was available: their CVs, self-introductions, productions. Gradually he formulated.
He even saw all the technical documents for Gielle’s design and clothing material. If he revealed these secrets to Theon, then there was no need for any negotiation at all. But he was glad to keep his lips sealed. He had promised Janet to keep the secret, and he had no interest in helping Theon succeed. His goal was to defeat him with facts.
Churches and steep-roofed houses swept past the speeding tube train. Neatly trimmed bushes surrounded open squares. The sun was bright and the sky clear.
Eko looked at Theon. Theon smiled at him as though there was no tension between them at all.
The argument last night had not begun as such. At first the two reminisced about Arthur. Theon told Eko about their friendship, which had begun in childhood. Arthur was four years older than Theon, and the two families were close. They went to the same school and worked in the same trade. Arthur took Theon skiing and hosted his graduation party. The two made good partners. Theon distributed the films that Arthur produced, and the two won awards and enjoyed success together. Later, when Arthur went to Mars, Theon was the only one who knew what he wanted. Indeed, Theon knew more about Mars than Eko. Under Arthur’s direction, the Thales Group had better mastery of full-fidelity holographic film technology than anyone else, and that wa
s in part the reason for its dominance in the market. Theon was grateful for everything Arthur had done for him, and they were lifelong friends.
Even so, he still betrayed Arthur’s dream during the last ten years of his life.
* * *
At ten, Eko and Theon entered Bujuxie Garment Atelier.
The first thing that struck a visitor to the atelier was how colorful it was. It didn’t feel like an art gallery; rather, the furnishing felt casual and unplanned, a place dominated by inspiration and comfort. On the left wall were giant frames of portraits and abstract doodles, while the right wall was covered by plaques, awards, commemorative scrolls, and the like. Several mannequins stood in the middle of the room, wearing various items of colorful, unfinished clothing. The sun, scattered by the beige glass, bathed the whole room in an even, warm light.
When Eko and Theon entered, several people were already in the atelier. Luoying, Gielle, and Brenda were sitting on the largest round inflated cushion in the middle of the room, reading. Brenda sat on the left and Luoying in the middle, and Gielle was lying prone next to them. She sat up as she saw Eko and Theon and leaned against Luoying as she regarded them with curiosity. Brenda was shy and quiet, her blond hair framing her pale features.
Eko and Theon sat down on the small sofa opposite the girls. A few phrases were plastered haphazardly on the wall behind them, and at first Eko had thought of it as some kind of conceptual art involving random words. But once he sat down, he realized they formed a quote:
Freedom is our desire. Therefore, we design our institutions to teach our students to be free persons, physically and mentally.
—Paul Waston, Mars, 2042
Eko found the quote intriguing. Against the smooth wall, the phrases, slanting this way and that, seemed to have been put together by a gust of wind.
Eko saw that Luoying had a photo album over her knees, which was open to a few images of mountains and bamboo groves, likely a record of her travels on Earth that she was showing to Gielle. Next to her lay a book: Le Mythe de Sisyphe. He was surprised. The book seemed to echo the image of the man pushing the boulder up the mountain. She wasn’t looking at him.
Theon began with some small talk. Glancing at Luoying’s photo album, he asked about her life on Earth.
“Did you visit London and Paris?”
“I lived in both, though just a few weeks in each.”
“Then you’ve probably been to Dreamscape parks. London and Paris both have them, and there’s one in Shanghai. Did you live in Shanghai?”
“No. I know about the parks but have never been to one.”
“What’s Dreamscape?” asked Gielle, still leaning on Luoying’s shoulder.
“Ah, they are the pride of the Thales Group,” said Luoying. “The theme parks are centered around fantastical experiences based on spaceships, pristine nature, fashion, world cuisine, everything. They are huge, and every visit is like a film, an adventure, a life.”
“Wow!” Gielle was amazed. “Why didn’t you go?”
“I …” Luoying shook her head. “I … just forgot.”
Eko found the answer interesting. Luoying was able to practically recite their advertising slogan word for word, and yet she seemed to think nothing of the allure behind those words. He felt she was perhaps sympathetic to his own ideals. Having been to the parks himself, he knew just how powerful their draw was. On Earth, most people had either gone to the parks or wanted to but couldn’t. It was rare to see anyone react like Luoying, unmoved by their appeal.
Luoying looked composed and determined. She seemed unwilling to waste time with aimless chitchat. “Mr. Thomas Theon, Gielle’s design isn’t just limited to dance costumes. It’s generalizable to all kinds of garments. The material is light and breathable.”
Theon smiled. “I can tell.”
“The color-changing property is inherent in the material. Depending on the source of light, the changes are also different.”
“Even more interesting.”
“It’s not hard to produce or to work with.”
“Great, but let’s slow down a bit.” Theon leaned forward, still smiling. “I have complete faith in the design, and I would love to be the agent to introduce it to Earth. But … I have to know: What are your expectations?”
“What do you mean?”
“The royalty structure, for instance. Or the terms of our agency agreement.”
Luoying smiled reassuringly. “We have no special requests. We’re happy to have the technology be part of the official exchange, pursuant to standard terms. Whatever the Thales Group wants to do to promote it on Earth is fine with us.”
“In other words, you’re willing to sell us all rights.”
“Sure, if you prefer to understand it in those terms.”
Theon nodded and leaned back in the sofa. He gave the appearance of being satisfied, but Luoying could see suspicion brewing under his smile. He was trying to figure out Luoying’s real goal.
Theon never underestimated his opponent. Even if Luoying was just a girl, he gave her his full concentration. He couldn’t yet tell what Luoying wanted, and so he said neither yes nor no.
Eko knew that one of the fundamental principles Theon followed was to give his opponent what was due. It was the only way to guarantee continued profit. When the other side claimed to want nothing in return, Theon tended to be more careful than ever. In Theon’s view, such opponents came in two varieties: those who knew nothing about the big picture, and those who hid their agendas deep. Most tended to fall into the latter category, so he never accepted favors without carefully understanding the situation.
Theon was in no rush. He regarded Luoying like a principal looking at one of his students, trying to let the conversation develop in a relaxed mood. He asked after her hobbies and inquired Gielle about her studies. He was trying to probe around the issue.
“Do you have a name for your amazing invention?” he asked Gielle.
“No, actually. I don’t.”
“How about Mystify? At once transparent and opaque, like the night sky, and a perfect companion to the ancient Chinese name for Mars. In advertising, we can say … Clothes that carry you into the air. Crystalized melody and flowing painting. How about it?”
Gielle was unfamiliar with the art of advertising, and the exaggerated phrasing made her blush like an overripe apple. “That … Do you really think it’s that amazing?”
Eko knew it was time for him to say something. In the sunlit atelier, some of the young workers on the other side of the room were having dessert, and delicious aromas wafted from the coffee bar in the corner. The sweet air felt a bit unreal, like an attempt at covering up differences so that everyone would enjoy the mutual praise and press forward to a magnificent fashion banquet. Gielle was delighted by the bright visions conjured by Theon, while Luoying sat next to her quietly, making no comment. Eko didn’t know what she was thinking behind her dark eyes, but he had to stop Theon from carrying out his plan, step by step, luring the girls into becoming his partners, into profit.
He stood up and cleared his throat.
Smiling at Gielle, he said, “I have a question for you: Do you make all your designs available? That is, can anyone have you make them something based on your invention?”
“Of course.”
“Could I ask you to make me a suit using your process?”
“Sure! Let me get your measurements right now.”
Gielle jumped up and found a measuring tape in one of the cabinets nearby. Eko stood up, raised his arms to the sides, and turned under Gielle’s direction so that she could measure his shoulders, arms, chest, waist … Carefully, she noted down the numbers in her electronic notepad. The two were wholly absorbed in the act, careless of the astonished looks the others tossed their way.
While Gielle was measuring him, Eko tried to strike up a conversation with Brenda. He pointed to the book on her knees. “Do you enjoy writing poetry?”
Brenda nodded. “I do, though I hav
en’t written many.”
“Does it make you happy to have your poems sitting somewhere, waiting, until one day they’re read by someone who truly understands them?”
“Absolutely. That’s the greatest happiness.”
Eko nodded. Brenda looked completely serious, and her hands, placed over her knees, looked pale and thin against the fabric of her dark blue skirt. Eko had read some of her poems and found them full of a youthful inquiring spirit and deeply authentic.
Eko stole a glance at Theon, who looked back at him with a cocky smirk, as though not concerned at all.
“All right. I got all the measurements I need.” Gielle put away the tape.
“Thank you. When do you think you’ll be finished?”
“Give me two days. I’ll design the suit on my computer and then send the pattern to the workshop.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“Oh, it won’t be much.” Gielle seemed afraid that he was going to cancel his request. “The production process is easy, and the material isn’t rare either. Pierre told me that his atelier has worked out an efficient process for making the filaments and membrane, but usually they don’t bother with it, since clothing isn’t something they care about. It really won’t cost you much. Honest.”
Eko chuckled. “Do you like having lots of people using your designs?”
“Of course! My citation rate is very low right now.”
“In that case, I wonder if you understand the fate awaiting your invention on Earth.”
Gielle looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“I can tell you right now that very few customers on Earth will order clothes based on your invention, and even fewer will get to wear them.”
“But why? I thought Earth has a huge population.”
Eko’s tone was like a storyteller’s trying to hook an audience. “Theon is going to hide your invention and keep it away from the public. No one will know how to make the material, and they won’t be able to buy it either. Theon is going to make a tiny number of garments and sell them for astronomical sums.”
