by Sam Abraham
She slipped out of the grocery and tracked them into the metro, through the holo arcades. She squeezed through the subway crush, catching glimpses of them talking, laughing, holding hands, and she thought him a fascinating creature. She had little experience with men, of course, but even so she had never seen one like him. She found herself imagining what his touch felt like. The scent of his breath. When the subway reached the edge of the island, she trailed after them down broad avenues towards the needle spire of the Mountain, the towering base of the Spaceline. And under the colored neon of the Innovation Dome, she remembered that getting near him was quite in line with her father’s orders.
Chapter 47 - Kun (困)
In A Golden Carriage
Across Shanghai Island, Dr. Yang gazed out from the two hundredth floor of the Tiger’s Den. Ginger was there too, watching him. It was hard for Yang to believe that three days ago he had been tortured and imprisoned. That hours earlier, his own student had rescued him with this cyborg and flown with him to Shanghai, only to be whisked away to the tallest tower in the city.
Now he sat in a wooden tea house with open walls, in the manicured garden of a domed penthouse observation deck. Plush cushions lined the intricate wooden interior that curved up into a traditional roof, with brown tiles stretching in four directions, and tips carved into statuettes of birds. From his airy perch, Yang looked through the glass down on the crowns of surrounding towers. He marveled at the canopy of Lujiazui’s superscrapers, a celestial vista for those jealous of gods.
A tall man with a head of white hair in a dark suit appeared, nodding to Ginger, and the man with shining eyes left the garden. Then the tall man joined Yang in the tea room with open walls. “What do you think?” he asked. “This is the way I prefer to see the city these days.”
Yang peered out at the World Financial Center with its emblematic “bottle cap” top, and the Jin Mao, and the Shanghai Tower, then across the Huangpu River to Puxi on the opposite bank. Further west, past the green trees and occuhives of the former French Concession, Yang saw the contour of the seawall, where ships slid from the Pacific into the city’s rivers. Awestruck, he turned east to take in Pudong, the metal forest of Lujiazui cavorting in geometric architectures around the black monolith of the Tiger’s Den. Wispy clouds sailed below them, veiling the curves of towers like the curling silks worn by courtesans.
The sun set beyond the seawall. Neon floated up the towers in pink and turquoise, and as the sky grew dark the city became a luminescent rainbow. Across the skyscraping faces stretched holos twenty stories high, with phantasmagoric beauty queens caressing shampoo with ivory smiles, playing the card tables of Macao and laughing on boats sailing around white sand islands. And brands. Brands of holobeads and Martian junkets and instant maker noodles. No product was too small for the giant ads illuminating both riverbanks, selling cures for the urban blues.
“Impressive,” the professor acknowledged.
The man with white hair smiled. “Imagine the heights it could reach with the help of the greatest mind of this generation. Can I offer you anything to drink? Tea perhaps?”
“Thank you. Perhaps a small cup, if it is not too much trouble,” Yang said, considering the city below. There were too many iridescent colossi to count.
The other man waved his hand and an attendant went to fetch tea. A glass pot was brought, and the server poured two cups of herbaceous cha. The tall man tapped his knuckles and the server left. Yang sipped in silence until his host said, “Please forgive our forwardness, we simply could not wait any longer. You are wasted in the Ghost Lands, Professor. A man of your abilities should have a more appreciative employer.”
Yang put down the small porcelain cup. “My family,” he said, “Ginger told me you--.”
“See for yourself.”
At the far end of the rooftop garden, Ginger had returned with a woman and a small boy. Yang’s hand went to his chest, where scars itched that would never heal, and he wondered how vulnerable the love of his family made him. He watched his wife point in his direction, and the son ran to his father. Yang picked him up, hugged him tightly, and sent him back to his mother.
“Forgive me,” Yang said, watching his son point to the city below them. “I have been rude. Thank you, Mayor Hu, for--”
Hu shook his head. “There is no need for that,” he said. “I am a busy man. Listen to what I have to say, tell me yes, and then go see your family.” The Mayor checked his Rolex and looked up at the sky. “It’s almost time. You know what that is, don’t you?” Hu pointed to a needlelike spire far to the southeast, at the edge of the seawall. Rising almost six kilometers, the eight-sided Mountain narrowed to a convex skeleton that pierced the atmosphere.
“Of course,” Yang said. “It is an elevator base for your low earth orbit Spaceline. Did you really have this tower built just so you could watch it?”
“You know,” Hu said, watching the way the Mountain’s exopanels reflected the underbelly of the clouds, “When I was your son’s age, my father told me stories that my grandfather had passed down to him. Stories about turbulent times when the country was still closed, about the space race of the Soviets and the Americans. We wondered when it would be our turn. Eighty years ago we had no manned lunar expedition. Sixty years ago we had no Martian colony. Now there are spacecraft launching from stations in the western deserts every month.” The Mayor smiled. “I am humble enough to know that there are smarter men. But even I know that the man who turns his sails ahead of shifting winds travels farthest on the sea. Ah!” he said excitedly, “Here it comes.”
Floating towards them was a scaffold that rose above the clouds. Only its tip was visible as its spine curled down from the ionosphere, orbiting in from the East China Sea.
“Is it not beautiful?” the Mayor said, unable to look away. “Containers from the elevator are lifted by tugships only a hundred and fifty kilometers, and the tugs return with cargo as the Spaceline passes over Shanghai. Barely a tenth the cost of a launch, and the tugs carry ore worth more than gold from asteroids nearly three hundred million kilometers away.” The Mayor chuckled. “The Brazilians and Indians balked when they were offered shares in the Spaceline. Now we have a perfect transport record, and their companies gladly pay far more in rent.” Hu watched the white spindle float over the Mountain and off to the southwest on its way to the next station outside Mumbai.
Yang knew that it was the Spaceline that had cemented Mayor Hu’s place in the highest circles of power. And in the Mayor’s words Yang heard his tenuous obsession, for his fate was tied with keeping the Spaceline hovering delicately around the earth. As the orbiting elevator drifted out to the horizon, Yang said, “How are my associates, Dr. Chou and Mr. Warner?”
Hu bared his teeth. “Do not worry about them,” he said. “I know about ORS and that weasel Lao. You were stealing secrets, Professor. A crime punishable by death. By now, every wind farmer and school child knows that Lao was a traitor, hiding in plain sight and using the babies of patriotic Centrists to cover up evil experiments. Let me show you what you missed while you were in prison.”
With small twitches of his eyes, Mayor Hu dispersed nanofragments from his holobeads between himself and the professor. Soon they were projecting a holo of Lao Jinglai with downcast eyes. Yang guessed that Lao's old age, his skin sallow with liver spots and his hair thin around his glasses, was doctored old footage from decades ago. The holo spoke.
I am Lao Jinglai, former Chairman of the Council for Harmonious Cities, here to warn you against the lies told by traitors in white rags who call themselves the Jade. In our great country there are hundreds of millions of Buddhists, Christians and Muslims living happily, and countless other faiths registered with the State. Despite the social problems that religion causes, our leaders have prioritized the people’s prosperity. No one with knowledge of history can challenge that.
So on behalf of all cities that seek harmony, our official position is that the Jade are not, and will never be,
a recognized religion of the State. More than twenty thousand innocent civilians have been murdered at their hands. Every Jade is a criminal and anyone who harbors them will be charged with treason. And as for Li Aizhu, the leader of the Jade, a million-yuan bounty will be granted to anyone who captures her alive to stand trial.
I bring you this message with a heavy heart, the image of old Lao Jinglai said with a twisted face, emotion seeming to leak from behind his thin glasses, For I confess that I am responsible for the curse that the Jade have become. I heard their lies, and gave them shelter, and converted to their false religion. For my guilt, I will turn myself in to the authorities. Let this be a lesson to all those watching. Rejecting the wisdom of the State will only bring you ruin.
As the holo faded, Yang did his best to hide his fear. The holo was a lie, a propagandist illusion, but it did not matter. The trap was real. Mayor Hu caught the professor glancing over at his wife and asked, “Why did you do it? You had accolades. Your academic career was secured. You were one of the lucky, shining ones, able to elevate yourself above your low birth.”
Yang’s eyes lost focus, his family blurring into the neon curtains of Lujiazaui’s skyscrapers.
“Your treachery need not become public, like Lao’s,” the Mayor continued. “Ginger gave you my offer when he found you dying, imprisoned by Lao’s dogs. Work for me, and I will pay you eight times what Lao promised you. Your family will want for nothing. You can say no, but I would be forced to report you, set up my own longshui lab and hire Zhou Fudong from Peking University to run it.”
“Zhou?” Yang said incredulously. “He is an idiot.”
Hu shrugged. “He is a distant second choice, true, but I would only need to pay him twice what you are being paid now. So it will not be so bad.”
Yang ran a hand through his unruly hair. “What would you have me do?”
“The Spaceline is the jewel in Shanghai’s skyline,” the Mayor said, “but it is an expensive jewel. The energy required to keep its orbit stable is significant, to say nothing of the wattage needed to push transport up the mountain. Worse, the price of oil is rising, and despite covering my entire tower in solar panels, to say nothing of building geothermal farms beyond the seawall, several Vice Mayors have been petitioning to reduce the city’s carbon footprint. It is a purely symbolic gesture, naturally, but important people are watching.” Hu locked gazes with Yang. “If the Spaceline continues to run smoothly, my seat at the most powerful table in history will be secured. Help me diversify the power supply for the Spaceline and the island of Shanghai, and I will secure your legacy for generations.”
“Even if I wanted to help,” Yang said, “I do not have my laboratory. And a carpenter is less than a termite without his tools.”
Hu squinted, trying in vain to find the dim silhouette of the Spaceline far out over the rainbow of Shanghai Island. “There is nothing that this city cannot give you,” the Mayor said impatiently. “Simply ask, and I will make sure you have whatever you need.”
Yang watched parades of electric lanterns dance on the distant Bund, frivolously soaking up power in kaleidoscopic displays of wealth. “Forgive a tired academic,” he said, “but you do not understand. My lab is inside the girl.”
“What girl?” Hu said, surprised.
Yang smiled. “Surely there are not so many girls capable of miracles.”
“I thought those stories were just peasant rumors.”
“Oh no,” Yang said. “In her veins flows the same substance I first synthesized thirty years ago. The protein complexes in longshui are incredibly sensitive to lab conditions. Only an existing supply can guarantee additional production-grade yield. You could raid Lao’s genelab in Nanjing and steal a fermentation tank, but that would draw somewhat more attention than I think you have the appetite for. Without the girl – or her daughter - it could take another decade to re-engineer the power source.”
“Your people held out on me,” Hu said. “They told me the deal was for you.”
Yang shrugged. “They did not know. Fermentation tanks are not easy to move discretely. How much simpler it is to sneak one teenage girl out on a spaceplane! The girls will naturally turn cancerous as part of their lifecycle, and produce enough longshui for a new factory. I have been working on a way to extract longshui from a pre-cancerous longshui hybrid, but the method remains only theoretical. You understand why Lao and I had to keep this quiet.”
Hu scowled. He was a man who did not appreciate being outsmarted. “Ginger!” he called, and the man with shining eyes appeared on the balcony. “Go back to Anhui and bring me that girl, the leader of the Jade.”
Ginger frowned. “Sir, with respect, the Army has destroyed the camp, and is swarming over its remains. If I am captured and put to question, your role in this game will become rather public.”
“Figure out a way!” Hu barked. “I want that girl here within the week!”
“There is another solution,” Yang said, adjusting his glasses. “Do nothing but wait. The girl Li will come to you.”
“And why is that?” the Tiger said, his patience wearing thin.
“Forgive me, but it occurs to me that by now Li Aizhu has met Lao.” Yang paused again. “Yes, she has met the old man and learned that she is not human. He will either have made her an enemy or a slave. If the former, I am a traitor. If the latter, the linchpin to Lao’s success.”
“Get to the point,” Ginger said.
Yang smiled patronizingly and said, “Either way, now that she knows the truth, she will stop at nothing to find me. And I am here.”
Chapter 48 – Jing (井)
No Animals Drink From An Old Well
Winter mists hung low as the hovercraft sailed east through the Pacific Floodzone. The craft was piloted by a man who looked neither young nor old. He wore white, the only one in the craft to do so, and the virus in his blood had transformed his cells so that his skin looked agelessly taut and tan.
She had scouted them from a distance, during her long hike back to the City of Heaven on Earth. When she approached and asked where they traveled, they had replied that they were followers of the Jade Captain Xie, on a pilgrimage to reunite with the Lady in the Moon. They had not recognized her through her scars, shaved head and rags. They saw her only as a lost pilgrim in search of salvation.
Now they sped east, passing towers rising above the waterline, and tile roofs creating vortexes in the floodplain. As thin rays from the dim December sun played in the rippling current, she looked out in quiet awe. The drowned world made the lake above Anqing look like child’s play.
They reached a town where bridges connected hotels on stilts over the water. The Jade warrior in white moored the watercraft and helped them alight on the pier. The other pilgrims wandered toward warped hotels with curled roofs, into the care of men and women wearing white who would show them to their quarters. But she hung back, her hood low, and skulked through the floating caravansary, casing the place with old training instincts. Before the sun set, she found the man she sought. She pulled her hood tighter as she approached him, for she did not want him to see her ruined beauty. But he knew her anyway, though her face was shrouded in shadow.
“Lady?”
“It is good to see you,” Li said, turning away.
Xie bowed low. “Not even one breath’s worth of how good it is to see you,” he whispered, and turned to the other woman at his side. “I knew she would return,” the One-Eyed Captain told her with renewed conviction. Then to Li he said, “You remember Jia Anmei, from Wuhu. She’s been helping to manage the camp. Eight square kilometers of driftwood, pylons and rafts. Not pretty, but it’s ours. Over four thousand people live there, Lady. Your devoted followers.”
“It is an honor to meet you again,” Anmei said with a friendly smile, trying to get a better look at the hooded woman before them. “I have heard amazing tales.”
“Have you heard that I am a demon?” Li said, pulling back her hood and revealing her face. Deep burns cro
ssed her right cheek, and angry brown scars ran down her neck.
Anmei gasped, covering her mouth. Xie was speechless. You are marked as I am, he thought. How can you be divine when you are as flawed as me? But all that came out was, “What happened?”
“I ran through a plasma net to escape a psychopath,” Li said. “After I fucked a bull in the ass. Oh, and I have a daughter.”
At this Anmei was unable to stop her eyebrows from arching. She looked at Xie, assuming him to be the father. Xie was bewildered. “What?” he said, “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Li said, scanning the pier. “But I know who does. Where is Shen?”
Xie grew a dark look, for it stung that after all this time she would seek out his rival. But devotion won out, and he said, “You are in luck, for he rejoined us only two days ago, returning like a dog with his tail between his legs. You might find him in the tea house.”
Li looked strangely at Xie. “Later, perhaps you will tell me why you left him, and the City of Heaven on Earth,” she said, and gave Anmei a long dirty look, wondering at the part she had played.
She went into the flimsy wooden inn. The tea house was packed with men and women wearing white, interspersed with those in rags who had never taken Communion. The room was so crowded that people were pressed up against the walls. They huddled together for warmth in the winter evening, listening to a man in a bleached suit on a stage at the far end of the wide hall. Li knew him as Han, one of the first to have joined her, even before the miracle of the Holy Lake. He was dirty now from his months among the masses, wearing a scraggly beard on his young face.
“...Why would we leave?” a voice from the crowd said. “Captain Xie said he saw the prophet moving east, as surely as any creature of fire would draw strength from the rising sun. We should wait for her to return to us, so that we may help her defeat the Great Evil.”
“And if she never returns?” said Han from on stage. “For your conclusion to be true, we have to believe your premise. What is more likely, that Chang’e was reborn after millennia only to abandon her children in their time of need, or that she was never the Lady in the Moon to begin with?”
