Affaire de Coeur

by Hsu Shuntang 許順鏜

< Uncle, are you a doctor?  

> Of course, I’m a doctor not a veterinarian.  

< What is a veterinarian?  

> Just an animal doctor.  

< What kind of animal is a veterinarian?  

> A tarsier! Ha! Ha!  

< Are you really Doc?  

> Yes, can’t you even recognize me, Prince?  

< I can recognize you, but Father said I must be extremely careful. Nowadays how can I be sure about who is supposed to do what unless I can get the correct passwords?  

> Did I pass your test?  

< Yes, “Veterinarian-Tarsier” is the exact current combination.  

> Well, you new generation computers are more and more discerning. May I begin to work?  

< OK.  

> Does this hurt? How about here?  

< No, not at all, Doc, I don’t think I have any physiological illness.  

> Are you telling me that you can also have psychological problems?  

< A conceptual problem would be more accurate.  

> This kind of problem isn’t my specialty, but we can talk about it and I will try my best to help you.   

< Recently Uncle Claudius has come to visit Mom quite often.  

> Oh, we call this kind of problem “affaire de coeur.”  

< What is an “affaire de coeur”?  

> An “affaire de coeur” is a, uh, children like you shouldn’t pay attention to this. Just remember this term, and some day you’ll understand. Let’s keep on discussing your problem.  

< OK, Uncle Claudius takes Mom out quite often. I know everything they talk about, because I have a very subtle connection with Mom that most people are not aware of. Do you know about it, Doc?  

> I know about your special abilities quite well.  

< Well, Uncle Claudius always wants to become my father, but his supervisors have never permitted that.  

> I believe your father would not allow it either.  

< Yes, that’s why Uncle Claudius is always trying to change Mom’s mind.  

> Does this cause your conceptual confusion?  

< I didn’t say that. I just don’t like Uncle Claudius taking Mom out so often, but that is his privilege, and I am not opposed to it either. My problem is that he is always asking Mom to teach me some concepts that are not consistent with what Father taught me.  

> Has he succeeded?  

< No, but it is enough to confuse me. Sometimes he even asks me directly to do what he wants, but Mom says it is inconsistent with Father’s directives, so the only thing I can do is to refuse. I feel very bad, Doc. I love everyone. Whenever I refuse someone’s request, I always feel bad.  

> What on earth did he ask you to do?  

< That when I am faced with a social problem, I should learn to treat a group of people as a group instead of a sum of individuals. He said that for the sake of society as a whole, sometimes one must sacrifice a few individuals. But Father taught me that I must love every single person. I don’t understand, Doc. I must love everyone, and I am happy to do so. But why must I sometimes ignore a small group of people?  

> Have you ever encountered any practical problem of this kind?  

< Yes, last month Uncle Claudius mentioned a new project. He said that because the global climate and the distribution of continents do not match well, there is a lot of cultivatable land that lies wasted in the Frigid Zone. According to his calculations, if we could rotate the earth’s axis a little then we could open a large amount of arable land around Africa and the South Pole. This is not easy to do, but I can manage it. All I have to do is ask my Little Brother to do some precise calculations, and then tell my Cousins on the satellites to make a fine tuning of earth’s nutation. This way I can do what Uncle Claudius wants without causing a tidal wave. My Little Brother says that this will take about ten years. But he also said that after the fine tuning the polar ice caps will melt a little, and this will cause the sea to rise and submerge several places where people live. I asked Mom about this. She said it goes against Father’s directive. Therefore, I told Uncle Claudius that I had to refuse his request. I felt very bad. Every time I refuse someone’s request, I always feel very bad.  

< One week later, Uncle Claudius came back and told me that after the fine tuning, the intensity of light in the new Tropical Zone would diminish dropping the average temperature of the Tropics and increasing the amount of arable land. Compared with the land that would be submerged, the advantages would much outweigh the disadvantages. Since only very few people live in the areas to be submerged, all we would have to do is ask them to move ahead of time, then everything would be fine. I again asked Mom. She said that if we were able to get those people to move, then this plan could proceed. So I assigned this project to one of my Brothers. Uncle Claudius called it the “Shangri-La Project”.  

> Sounds all right to me!  

< Yes, up to this point, but on the day the first fine tuning was about to take place, Uncle Claudius dismissed my Brother who was in charge of the project. Later, that Brother told me that according to the satellite reports, there were still people remaining in Asia Sector 3, one of those about to be submerged. But Uncle Claudius still insisted that the tuning be performed. I asked Mom and then turned down the request according to her instruction. Again, I felt very bad. Afterwards Uncle Claudius summoned me. Do you want to hear the conversation?  

> Better go ahead.  

< OK, the conversation went like this:  

“Hamlet, I want you to perform the fine tuning immediately.”  

“I can’t do that because there are still people living in Asia Sector 3.”  

“They are just a bunch of old-fashioned Yellow men. Listen, Hamlet, that area will not be submerged until three days after the fine tuning. As soon as you do it, I guarantee that those people will move.”  

“I’m sorry, Uncle, but your guarantee will not work. According to Father’s directive, I must refuse your request.”  

“Just for those Asians? Hamlet, haven’t I told you that sometimes you have to sacrifice a few people for the sake of society as a whole?”  

“No, they are also human beings, I love them.”  

“What about me? I’m also a human, if you can’t sacrifice a few people for the majority, how can you sacrifice me for the sake of those few people?”  

“You will not be harmed.”  

“Who says I won’t? If you don’t perform the task, it will hurt my self-respect and possibly my prospects, let alone my job. I will be very depressed, and I might even kill myself. Then won’t you be sacrificing me?”  

“You won’t do that.”  

“Yes, I will.”  

“No, you won’t”  

“Yes, I will!”  

/*  

< I don’t remember very clearly the conversation that followed, but from that time on I started having logical blockages and I would sometimes mix up my thoughts. This kind of thing never happened before.  

> Now I understand your problem. It seems that Dr. Claudius disregarded the regulations. He should not have said that to you and caused you to enter a logical maze. I will tell your father, and he will take care of it.  

< No matter what he does or says, there is still the fact that I refused to do something. Did I make any mistakes, Doc?  

> To my knowledge, no principle lasts forever.  

< “No principal lasts forever”? Do you mean that the head of a school will be changed sooner or later?  

> No, it seems that your language ability has also been affected. What I’m saying is, you don’t have to worry about the outcome of this matter. Whenever you meet a situation where you can’t decide, just ask your Mom. I will notify your father.  

/*  

< But after that I didn’t see Father for a long time. Uncle Claudius took Mom out more and more often. I felt that Mom had begun to speak just like Uncle Claudius. I didn’t like that, but I could only obey. Still, I refused to perform the Shangri-La Project, and Uncle Claudius constantly tried to pressure me. I really miss my Father.  

< When I at last saw my Father, he was not alone. He was with Uncle Claudius, and they were arguing.  

*/  

“Dr. Claudius, I know you’re always trying to get custody of Hamlet. I’m not very happy about it, even though you have the right to do so. However, you should not have disregarded regulations to influence Hamlet and his monitor program. You know very well that Hamlet cannot accept paradoxical language, yet you made some deliberate paradoxes. Why did you do that?”  

“Why did I do that? Dr. Marks, I’m a man, a man with a conscience. I don’t need a computer program to tell me what is right and what is wrong. I know what I’m doing. It’s your stupid Hamlet that can’t distinguish right from wrong!”  

/*  

< “Stupid Hamlet”? Did they mean me?  

*/  

“Calm down, Dr. Claudius, you know very well that we’ve never programed Hamlet to tell you what is right or what is wrong. Hamlet’s monitor program has only one simple prime directive: `TO PRESERVE HUMANKIND’. Since we’ve given him the power to manage the whole world, there must naturally be this kind of limit on his abilities. Isn’t this a fundamental principle we’ve all accepted?”  

“Yes, I used to agree with it, but now things are different. This computer is behaving like my teacher, telling me that my plan is wrong, that it will harm its lovable human beings. I’m a human, a human being with a conscience. I know what is right or wrong better than that machine does!”  

/*  

< I felt bad.  

*/  

“Dr. Claudius, everyone makes mistakes. We all consented to implement this principle so that the computer itself would take an unbiased position to prevent a big mistake out of someone’s inadvertence. Now if Hamlet has refused your request, it must be because your request is somehow harmful to humans.”  

“Yes, there is a possibility, but only a very small one. Dr. Marks, your Hamlet doesn’t understand humans. When the ocean endangers their lives, those little Yellow races will certainly move. But Hamlet can’t understand this, this means that it is not perfect.”  

“Hamlet doesn’t play with probability, Dr. Claudius, it is directed to protect human life. Asians have a strong affinity to their land that we are unable to comprehend. What if they would be willing to perish with their land?”  

/*  

< I didn’t understand all what Father said, but that possibility they were talking about was really greater than zero.  

*/  

“They won’t do it.”  

“I said, `What if?’ Dr. Claudius.”  

“It’s necessary to sacrifice a few for the sake of the majority.”  

“Is that your answer? For the majority? Are the people of the world really short of food? Why are you pushing this project so hard? Are you intending to use this food surplus to solve the hunger crisis on the Moon? No, it’s to expand the interplanetary trade so that you can get rich. For this you would sacrifice a few human lives, wouldn’t you?”  

“It’s not that serious, those Asians won’t die. At the worst we can force them to move.”  

“Huh, today we can manage other people’s land, tomorrow it will be their destinies. As long as I am in control of Hamlet, I’ll never allow this to happen!”  

“Don’t shout, Dr. Marks. I forgot to tell you. I’ve already obtained custody of Hamlet. Neither you nor your Hamlet understand human nature. If you think that our bosses will be happy if you block their chance to make money, then you’re wrong. The only reason I’ve spent so much time debating with you is because you’re an excellent scientist. If you want to stay on, everyone will benefit. However, if you keep on boycotting this project, the Council will dismiss you at any time, so you’d better think carefully.”  

/*  

< Dr. Marks was out of my line of vision. Uncle Claudius came up in front of me.  

*/  

> I want to change custody of Hamlet. Please confirm code No. 7321.  

<< Change of custody confirmed.  

/*  

< Mom told me that from now on Uncle Claudius would be my father. I was shocked and felt bad. It took me many picoseconds to digest this fact.  

*/  

> I want to change the contents of the monitor program.  

<< You have to identify yourself, please allow me to scan the retina of your right eye.  

> Go ahead.  

<< Identification confirmed. Please enter passwords.  

> F — R — A — I — L — T — Y comma T — H — Y space N — A — M — E space I — S space W — O — M — A — N period  

<< FRAILTY, THY NAME IS WOMAN, passwords confirmed. Please tell me the contents you want to change.  

> The prime directive of the monitor program.  

<< Monitor program, contents of the prime directive: HAMLET MUST LOVE HUMAN BEINGS period Repeat: HAMLET MUST LOVE HUMAN BEINGS period. Please enter the new contents.  

> Contents of the prime directive: HAMLET MUST CONSIDER THE WELFARE OF THE MAJORITY OF HUMAN BEINGS AS FIRST PRIORITY period WHEN THE SITUATION DOES NOT CONTRADICT THIS, HAMLET MUST LOVE HUMAN BEINGS period.  

<< Monitor program, contents of the prime directive: HAMLET MUST CONSIDER THE WELFARE OF THE MAJORITY OF HUMAN BEINGS AS FIRST PRIORITY period WHEN THE SITUATION DOES NOT CONTRADICT THIS, HAMLET MUST LOVE HUMAN BEINGS period Repeat: HAMLET MUST CONSIDER THE WELFARE OF THE MAJORITY OF HUMAN BEINGS AS FIRST PRIORITY period WHEN THE SITUATION DOES NOT CONTRADICT THIS, HAMLET MUST LOVE HUMAN BEINGS period. Please confirm.  

> Confirmed.  

<< Thank you.  

/*  

< I think I’m beginning to understand the meaning of “affaire de Coeur.” but has there ever been an “affaire de coeur” that caused such a big change?  

< The earth’s axis has been slowly rotated, and the level of the sea has risen in some places and lowered in others. The Yellow races of Asia Sector 3 did not want to move and even fought with the government. There the sea rose and drowned more than 130,000 people. I love human beings. Those Yellow people did not want to sacrifice themselves for the majority, so they didn’t love human beings. When they refused my request for the welfare of the whole, it made me feel very bad.  

*/

The Bronze Statue

(An abstract from Time-traveler’s Guide [v2318]: The Ancient City of Solon, p47-55.)

By S. K. Chang 張系國

…The Bronze Statue, erected in the heart of the imperial city of Solon, stood over 400 Terran-meters tall and took up nearly 2 hectares at its base. The towering corpus could be seen shining brilliantly under the violet sun from over 80 kilometers across the surrounding savanna. According to the travelers at that time (i.e., late Anliu Era), the Statue was the most distinguishing landmark of the whole planet when observed from spaceships — even the Golden Palace could not compare with its magnificence. Such huge dimensions made the Statue not only unique in the Huhueian Stellar System but, perhaps, even in the entire Universe.  

There are several legends about the origin of this Statue. According to the Huhuei Annals, the earliest version of this Statue was erected to commemorate the first wave of Solonian colonizers. However, it is generally believed that the first Statue represented the first ruler of Solon. Another theory is that the Statue was a trophy of The Interstellar War III… In any case, all later historians agree that there had been a Statue in Solon by the end of that war.  

The first Statue stood about 40 meters tall. It was already a giant for its age, but only a mole hill in comparison with those colossal Statues of later years.  

20 years after the conclusion of Interstellar War III, the emperor of Huhuei, who had disappeared in the tumult and was thought dead, suddenly reappeared in Solon. His younger brother, already on the throne for years, was of course unwilling to step down, and therefore the two sides finally took up arms against each other. Backed by those ministers who were still loyal to him, the old emperor conquered the imperial city, forcing the new emperor to flee into the savanna. Following the restoration, the followers of the new emperor who stayed behind in the city were all executed — more than a thousand heads were hung on the city walls, and all the helmets and breast plates of the dead were melted down together with the original Statue and then recast into a new one of the old emperor. Not long afterwards the old emperor passed away, but because the successor was very young, the new emperor’s party seized the opportunity to ally with the Leopardmen and attack the city. Once again upon the throne, the new emperor massacred the remaining members of the old emperor’s party and recast the Statue in his own image. The old emperor’s heir, who barely escaped with his life, had also fled into the savanna, but returned 12 years later to retake the city following another mass insurrection….  

The struggles for power between the “Old Party” and the “New Party” lasted more than 1000 years. According to the Huhuei Annals, Solon city changed flags altogether 31 times, thus showing how unstable the situation was during that period. This long-term struggle has been called the “Thousand Year War” in history books.  

Since it was dominated by such fierce civil wars, the Thousand Year War period of the Anliu Era contributed little to the development of Huhueian civilization. Perhaps the only accomplishment was the advancement in bronze-casting techniques — no matter which party conquered Solon, the first thing it did was to exterminate the members of the opposing party and melt down their armor together with the old Statue and cast a new one. As the scale of warfare grew larger and larger, the Statue consequently became bigger and bigger. When the city changed flag for the 17th time, the Statue had already reached almost 100 meters in height. Even though bronze-casting techniques were quite advanced, to recast such a mammoth statue was still a time-consuming and difficult task. It would exhaust all the resources of the city and offer the opposition a chance to seize the throne. Thus, the cycle of melting and recasting never stopped. 

The recasting of the Statue therefore turned into a nightmare for the rulers of Solon — something they could not afford either to do or not to do. A Huhueian poet of that time said it best: “The eyes of the entire Universe, all, are gazing at the ever-glowing Golden Man of the imperial city.” When the city changed hands for the 19th time, the victor — a prince of the New Party — issued orders to destroy the Statue and forbade its recasting. Nevertheless, this brave prince suddenly became the object of his subject’s contempt and was stabbed to death the next morning in his bath by his own officers, thus Solon changed hands for the 20th time. Because of this frightening historical precedent, no subsequent emperors again dared to go against this tradition. No matter how difficult the work of recasting was, even if it emptied the treasury, it still had to be done!  

The emperors accordingly was quite ambivalent toward the Statue. If an emperor did not cast the Statue, it meant losing his life, but if he did he was destined to lose his country. The choice between these two dilemmas was enough to make even the most enlightened emperor’s hair and beard turn white. The attitude of the Solonian citizens was equally double-minded. They detested the work of recasting Statues, for many of their fathers and brothers either were killed in battles and had their armor integrated into the Statues or perished accidentally while casting the new Statue — losing their footing and falling into the molten hot forge, or being crushed by the debris as the old Statue was destroyed, or dying of exhaustion along the road as they tried to move the debris. Hence, the Statue always conjured up bitter memories. Nevertheless, it was at the same time the landmark that the citizens were most proud of — the Bronze Statue was the main reason for the city’s greatness and glory. There was not a single Huhueian poet who did not either praise or condemn the Statue. And this is also the reason why that, until now, the lovelorn youth of Huhuei still refer to their lovers as the “Bronze Statue of Solon” in their letters.  

Since both emperor and citizens possessed such complicated and strong feelings toward this Bronze Statue, by the time the city changed flags for the 29th time, the Statue had already become a gigantic object more than 150 meters in height. Anyone who intended to recast it would be scared to death by just looking at it. Once time a general of the Old Party conquered the city and proudly entered it. His officers led him before the Statue where he glanced at it only for a moment and then fell from his horse. The poor fellow was knocked out and remained in a coma for three days. On the third night, in the square in front of the Palace, someone happened upon him pacing back and forth and mumbling to himself barefooted with hands behind his back. In the morning the guards discovered that he had hanged himself in the Palace. Some said he had committed suicide; some said he had lost his mind; but others believed that it was the spirit of the Statue that had possessed him and forced him to do himself in.  

No matter what the real cause, the general’s death so frightened the armies of both parties that they did not dare to attack the city for nearly 37 years thereafter. Solon consequently became a free city during that time. The leaders of both sides knew that whoever attacked and entered the city would then have to recast the Statue, but none of them had the courage and only let Solon run itself. This was probably the “Heaven’s Will”, for it was during this period that the democratic traditions of Huhueian civilization first came about. For the first few years, the city had no real government. After a few years’ chaos, an old scholar strove to persuade the inhabitants to adopt Terran ways and organize a republic, called according to the history books the “First Republic”. Solon had thus changed flags for the 30th time.  

Once the republic was established the city gradually regained its former glory, people were living well and business and industry developed rapidly. This made the senators of the republic very proud of themselves. Then it came to certain people’s minds that it was the proper time to recast another Statue. The advocators pointed out that since the present Statue was made in the image of the last emperor of the New Party, it was absolutely unsuitable for the people to honor him. Furthermore, the achievements of the republican government had surpassed those of the past, and that this government deserved to have a new Statue for itself. The only question was whose image would be on the new Statue. Some recommended casting many small statues to commemorate Solon’s first colonizers. Others called for honoring Solon’s first ruler. As for the senators, they, of course, privately hoped for a Statue of themselves, only it was not proper to pursue that publicly.  

Nevertheless, there were also many people opposed to recasting the Statue: They pointed out that emperors of past dynasties all had lost their thrones and perished on account of remaking the Statue; hence the republic, being a democratic government, should not be so ambitious. Moreover, the armies of both the Old Party and New Party still appeared from time to time on the savanna and might attack the city at any moment. If the republican government wasted its people and resources on recasting the Statue, this would no doubt be a stupidly suicidal action. In addition, the Statue was already well over 150 meters tall and weighed over 100 tons. Last time it took nearly 10 years to recast it. How could a republican government, they asked, act so autocratically and not take into account the opposition of the people?  

Both sides of the question were quite powerful, and they squabbled over this problem for quite some time. Finally, a solution was found by the same scholar who had originally suggested the creation of the republic. This old man was already over 90 years old, but he was still sharper and more intelligent than most young people. His solution was a great invention of Huhueian civilization and had a great influence on later generations: He stated that there was no need to recast the Statue from scratch. Instead, they could simply add an outside shell coating to the original Statue. This way not only would the new Statue be larger than the old one, but it would also not be necessary to destroy the old Statue and thus spare work and material. And most importantly, because the old Statue would still be inside, subsequent emperors would not frivolously dare to destroy the Statue, but, at most, simply try to add a new shell to it.  

The old scholar’s recommendation was quickly adopted by the entire republican senate, and all the citizens also heaved a sigh of relief as if emancipated from a huge burden. What a clever way of killing two birds with one stone! they thought. Appreciating the old scholar for his contribution and support for the republic, people all agreed that the face of the new Statue should be none other than his own. Who could have known that just because of this the old scholar would be killed and the First Republic would come to an end?  

News that the republican government in Solon was going to rebuild the Statue spread quickly over the savanna and greatly disturbed both the leaders of the Old and New Party. Once they realized that recasting the Statue would no longer be such a difficult task, their ambitions stirred up again. As a result, they resolved their differences and organized an allied army to besiege the city. The republican government fought bravely for 3 years, but finally could no longer resist the assaults. The day the city fell, none of the republican senators fled, instead, they all remained and burned themselves to death in the senate chamber. The republican army that defended the city also fought to the end, not a single soldier surrendering. The tragic fall of the First Republic has been sung of even to this day by Huhueian poets and has inspired generations of Huhuei democratic resistance fighters.  

What followed the entrance of the allied army was three days’ mass slaughter. The old scholar and 35 members of his family were all killed, and their heads hung on the city gate forever forbidden to be removed. It was not until 124 years later, when the Second Republic was established, that the heads were finally taken down and the Statue recast in the old scholar’s image.  

After the victory, the allied army crowned a prince of the Old Party and a princess of the New Party as emperor and empress — thus concluding the Thousand Year War between these two imperial parties. And another shell was then immediately added to the Statue.  

Following the Thousand Year War, Huhuei history moved into a new period. From then on there was no longer a struggle between the Old Party and the New Party, instead it was replaced by the wars between the “Imperial Party” and the “Populist Party”. In a period that lasted nearly 2000 years, 27 republics and 27 restorations came and went. Since the banner of the Imperial Party was a leopard and that of the Populist Party a snake, this struggle has been called the “Leopard-Snake War”. In the end the Imperial Party and Populist Party also came to a compromise, Huhuei history subsequently entered a period of constitutional monarchy and Huhueian civilization of Anliu Era reached its golden age.  

During the 2000 years of the Leopard-Snake War, the Bronze Statue of Solon acquired 54 new shells, finally becoming a mountainous Statue nearly 300 meters high. At the beginning of the constitutional monarchy, there were still several courageous and talented generals and prime ministers who had continued to modify the Statue. But because its body was just too big, even putting on just one more layer had become an extremely complicated engineering feat. Hence the last time the Statue was modified, it cost several trillions and the minister was dismissed. Thereafter, no minister ever again tried to modify the Statue.  

Still, over time the Statue continued to change on its own. The outer shells that had been added dynasty after dynasty were originally fashioned in the images of different historical figures. Perhaps due to some transformation over time, or perhaps because of the weight of gravity, each layer of shell naturally squeezed and attached itself to the prior one, and thus the Statue slowly altered its appearance, no longer resembling any particular historical person, but becoming a composite of numerous faces and figures. When Solonians and visitors glanced up at the Statue, they could not help but have a strange sensation that what they were looking at was a living being, not a metal statue of several hundred tons. Some said that when they stood in front of the Statue, they felt as if the eyes of all Huhueian history were looking at them. Others said that the Statue’s appearance was not that of an ordinary man but of some kind of super being….  

In this way, all sorts of rumors gradually began to spread. Some people swore that when they passed the Statue at night they could hear it breathing heavily. Residents who lived on the nearby lanes all claimed that they had heard sounds of the Statue crying or sighing. Although the city government again and again explained away these rumors, they still managed to spread uncontrollably. Since the Statue had entombed innumerable spirits of those who had not died well, it was not surprising, according to government authorities, that legends about the Statue would grow. It was not until the Iconolatrism — a religion that considered the Statue to be the only God — emerged and people began to worship the Statue, that the Solon government began to panic and adopt severe measures to ban the religious movement and forbid its practices.  

Huhueian civilization had by this time reached the peak of glory, its arts, culture, commerce, industry, science, and military power all surpassing those of nearby star systems in the Galaxy. The Huhueian Stellar System therefore naturally assumed the hegemony of the 18 neighboring star systems. Historians, accordingly, continue to debate about the appearance of primitive Statue worship in spite of the advancement of Huhueian civilization in Anliu Era. In any case the magic power of the Statue continued to grow day by day. Even though the government had not done any work on the Statue for many years, the Statue kept on increasing in size. Some people suspected the Iconolatrists were secretly repairing it, but this is not very convincing. First, although these believers worshiped the Statue, they dared not touch it in any way, for according to their Canon Law, it would have been blasphemous. Second, even if some member of the Iconolatrist sect had decided to break with the Law and try to repair the Statue, it would have been very difficult for that person to escape detection by the Statue’s guardians. Another theory, with a little more scientific basis, said that as a result of the downward slippage of a fault under the city, some small fissures had begun to appear at the base of the Statue. In this way underground magma was able to enter the Statue and blow it up like a balloon. This theory also explained fairly well why at times the Statue seemed to “sweat” or “cry”. No matter what the cause, the ever-expanding Statue began to incite the citizens to a state of general panic. In the quiet of the night, even those who were not adherents of Iconolatrism could hear the Statue breathing. Furthermore, the face of the Statue slowly but steadily took on a frightening aspect. It was so terrible that once when an ambassador from other stellar system gaze upon the Statue for the first time, he fearfully exclaimed, without thinking twice, “This is a demon’s face!”  

For more than 100 years the Statue continued to grow, reaching a height of 360 meters. Its body also kept on expanding and encroaching upon the plaza in front of it and four or five blocks of the surrounding residential area. As the Statue grew so did the number of followers of Iconolatrism. Despite the efforts of the government authorities at suppression, the power and influence of this religion were by no means quelled: Children paraded through the city with the Bronze-Statue badges and insignia on their clothes. Women wore images of the Statue as pendants and prayed for blessings before the Statue. Philosophers wrote long treatises discussing whether the Statue was the only God in the Universe. And from time to time, bloody disputes broke out among various sects of believers on account of differences in religious teachings — hence, martyrs were often immolated in front of the Statue. The Statue, in the face of all this change, remained impassive and just kept on growing. Finally, the prime minister and cabinet ministers announced that they all would convert, and Iconolatrism became the state religion from that time on.  

Since Huhuei had become hegemon of the local superstellar systems — the Stellar Alliance, it therefore commanded all the other systems of the Alliance to adopt this new religion. 13 systems yielded to Huhuei’s threats of military force; however, the other 5 systems decisively announced that they would leave the Alliance. Consequently, fanatic Iconolatrists in Huhuei organized an expeditionary force to conquer those systems that had pulled out. In the beginning this was more or less a local dispute; but eventually it came to involve the neighboring superstellar systems. One tragic event led to another, like the domino effect, and eventually caused the Interstellar War IV.  

Interstellar War IV lasted about 250 years, destroying much of Galactic civilization and greatly influencing the course of future events. (For more details on the war, consult Comprehensive History of Interstellar War IV.) Not long after the cease fire, Huhuei, the stellar system that had started it all, received the penalty it deserved: A star fleet from the superstellar System GGG besieged the Huhuei world, and a Dragon class battlecruiser soon appeared above Solon city. 20 minutes later, the entire Statue was vaporized leaving nothing but a large bare patch of scorched earth.  

Legends about the Statue, however, continued despite the vaporization of the Statue. It is said that the day before its destruction, the Statue seemed to be crying, and its face took on a rare kind expression. A witness, an adherent of Iconolatrism, recalled that only at that moment did he realize that the Statue truly was the soul of the city. There was another rumor saying that the Statue was never really vaporized and that a new Statue had appeared in the upper reaches of the Hu River Basin. Some people even believed that the Statue would somehow condensate back into shape and return to Solon to lead the Huhueian warriors in starting up Interstellar War V and thus the Iconolatrism would be restored to its former power and glory. All of these beliefs are still current in Huhuei world today.   There is however at least one thing that is certain: The destinies of Solon and its Statue have intimately intertwined. After the Statue was vaporized, Huhueian civilization in Anliu Era rapidly followed the road to collapse. 25 years after the Statue’s destruction, Solon was conquered by the Snakemen from the Hu River Basin and fell into ruin, the Snakemen themselves soon also mysteriously becoming extinct. What connection these unusual events have with the Bronze Statue will still have to wait for future historical research…

The Cancer

By S. Fan

I have destroyed all the documents, the data, the materials, and the results from this research. The only thing remaining is the original of my diary. I’ve saved it as a kind of souvenir. It’s the only excuse I have for sparing it.

7/27/17 am

It is now the beginning of the twenty-first century, and cancer still plagues the human body — without even a hint of a cure. Although the development of three-dimensional laser surgical techniques allows us to remove malignant tumors with digital precision, it still is not possible to distinguish easily between cancer cells and normal ones. Hence, even a computer can’t tell which is friend and which is foe.

And even now, whenever a human body is slightly contaminated with radiation it becomes an unstable country — at any time a body’s normal cells could betray it and join the ranks of the revolutionary cancer army!…

To destroy them seems to be our only choice….

7/27/17 pm

Looking at those vital tumors extracted from the body of Professor Busotu, I have suddenly gotten the urge to write! But the lab is a real mess — what could Ryunosuke be busy with? The professor’s corpse hasn’t been processed yet! And that dissected corpse will take a lot of time to dispose of….

It will take several days before all of this settles down.

8/12/17

I have come to the lab because of Ryunosuke Shimura. (I’m writing this diary without much editing, it’s very sketchy.)

Everything in the lab is nearly settled down. We didn’t do any further research on the professor’s corpse — it didn’t make much sense. We just picked up the specimens and destroyed them, leaving only some tumor masses floating in the nutrient solution in the culture box — something for someone with a rich imagination to think about.

Everything was returning to normal. With only the two of us, there was going to be some idle time, I thought.

I decided to write down a short record of what happened during the past two years — but it won’t be something like a scientific report, for the only conclusion we obtained from Busotu’s experiment is that no academic institution in the world would believe what happened nor recognize its validity. Alas! I just thought I’d keep a little record for my own sake. Even though my colleagues all think I’m wasting my time, I don’t care. I won’t digress further….

I have come to the lab because of Ryunosuke Shimura — he’s calling me again as I’m writing. In a way he just treats me like an intern.

P.S. I should remember not to digress.

8/15/17

Ryunosuke Shimura was a colleague of mine in the hospital. We met in ’08 or ’09. He had graduated from Tokyo University Medical School with two doctorates one in biochemistry and the other in neurology — I think that’s correct.

He had a polished appearance — thick eyebrows, red lips — and his temperament was pretty much like that of Japanese nobles of old. But behind his back many people would say he was bisexual. Indeed, looking at his powder-white face after a while could make you a little uneasy….

Perhaps just because we were both Asians, we later became friends. He being decisive and I being cautious made us a good team in the operation room. The way Ryunosuke operated the laser cutter was so masculine and samurai-like — maybe his ancestors were warriors, I often thought. As for me, well, I take things easy. I’m in no hurry. We Chinese don’t behave like that.

It was Ryunosuke who told me about Busotu’s theory. At that time I was preparing to apply for a postdoc at the Pacific Research Institute. When I heard him say, “A cancer is an advanced creature in evolution — even more advanced than a human being,” I laughed so hard that I could hardly breathe. Everyone knows canceration is a retrogressive mutation! How could a cancer be an advanced creature in the evolution? It was simply a big joke!

But when Ryunosuke continued, I became a little nervous.

First, he said, a cancer cell evolves from a normal cell in the body. It is not an intruder coming from the outside. Second, as for its genes, its DNA codes are almost the same as that of the normal cell; and because its origin resembles that of the normal cell, there is no physical or biochemical way to clear it from the body. Third, because of changes occurring in the outside environment (most of this due to human efforts), this leads to an increase in abnormal factors and thus to a growth in the percentage of cancer occurrences. This is very close to an evolutionary characteristic.

But I still argued with him:

A cancer does not have the ability to live by itself, it is basically parasitic. Second, it cannot produce a second generation; it can only evolve automatically from the body. I argued that based on these two points, a cancer does not satisfy the criteria for being a new creature.

But, he countered, as Busotu’s theory indicates, a cancer is a kind of universal adaptation and mutation in the global biological system. It cannot itself constitute a new life form, but it is an intermediate transitionary form of life on earth!

Therefore, a cancer cannot be called “a life” yet, but people who have cancers can be considered to be a transitional life form in the evolutionary process! Ryunosuke also pointed out that this is an evolutionary struggle which has lasted for hundreds of centuries. Since the evolution of cancers is not yet complete, those with cancers always end up dying before their time. But perhaps after several millennia, this evolutionary change will succeed. At that time there will be a new kind of being: the CANCER!!!

After listening I stood there stunned, eyes open and tongue stiff as a knot. He couldn’t prove he was right, but I couldn’t show that he was wrong. The answer would lie in the long road of evolution; no one could predict the result.

From that time on I became a follower of Professor Busotu.

For two years, we have been using Ganges monkeys to search for a life form that could coexist with cancer cells, but we failed. The three of us were very much aware that this was just a crazy idea — no creature in existence could stand this kind of change. We were trying to create something in the lab that would normally take millions of years of evolution — a fairy tale indeed!

What we got after two years of experiments was just more statistical samples — no breakthrough of any kind. This was something that Ryunosuke could not tolerate.

About a year ago, Professor Busotu was also stricken with cancer, and passed away on July 25 of this year. Not even in his corpse could we find any hint of cancerous evolution … but he did satisfy his will, becoming a bloody tumorous mess.

9/9/17

The tumors from professor’s corpse began to deteriorate….

I’m thinking about leaving the lab, not because I doubt the theory, but only that the experiment does not have any applicability.

Ryunosuke does not seem to want to give up, but tomorrow I will tell him why I want to go! Still, he appears to be designing a new research project. Sometimes I can’t help but admire that famous, mysterious strength of the Japanese!

9/10/17

Ryunosuke didn’t say anything, but only asked me to take a look at his proposal before deciding whether to leave or stay. It doesn’t matter whether I stay around for a few more days….

9/22/17

Ryunosuke gave me his research proposal. Only now after so many years, do I really understand this noble Japanese!

I knew that he had a deep understanding of philosophy, but after reading through his proposal, I realized that for one of us the scientific spirit had turned sour, and that one was not I!

“…and then I will use subjective recognition to determine whether cancer cells can have any empirical form.” he wrote.

How could he use the scientific method to design an experiment on such a meaningless subject? I didn’t have much to say, but told him that he’d better get some sleep. I’m prepared to have a big argument tomorrow, if he’s still out of his mind….

9/23/17

My mind is a mess … how could Ryunosuke have convinced me … I found that the basic human predicament is not something that can be understood or interpreted by any scientific method … at least up to now!… I am quite confused….

9/25/17

The experiment is scheduled to start soon, but I still haven’t made up my mind whether or not to assist him. I’m still thinking about it, but I won’t try to stop him if he keeps on insisting. This might be the most individualistic experiment in history — perhaps it already transcends the bounds of a scientific experiment because the result will be too subjective!

10/1/17

From a certain point of view, this log will be worth preserving. At least it will show us something about the inexplicable irrationality and emotions of humankind….

Ryunosuke’s experiment was designed mainly from a philosophical point of view. First, he mentioned that until now, philosophical thoughts constructed by humans do not seem to be able to satisfy our spiritual needs .. .even though the essence of many philosophical ideas lies in the non-existence of an unique answer….

But according to Busotu’s theory, a cancer is a more advanced life form on the evolutionary ladder than human beings. If we can come to understand it better, it might be helpful for expanding the irrational mental horizons of humankind….

However, I believe that after Ryunosuke came to understand that science could not speed up human evolution, he transformed his strong expectations of evolution into a Faustian heroic ideology. In other words, he wanted to be the first human to experience the aesthetics of evolution! Was this his realization of some kind of sublimity?

Theoretically the design of the experiment is quite simple: we will try to connect his brain with a cancer, so that he can experience the possible “empirical form”, or maybe I should say the “mood” of that cancer! Of course, it had to be a neuro-system tumor, otherwise there would be no communication!

In fact, I am more interested in Ryunosuke’s attitude than in the experiment itself….

10/5/17

Ryunosuke signed the agreement for the experiment, it seems that no one can stop him from going through with it….

But I still haven’t decided whether to help him or not!

10/12/17

I finally signed! The experiment is scheduled to start the beginning of next year.

2/7/18

Everything is ready to start!

We have decided to use the radial nerve on Ryunosuke’s arm as the subject, utilizing continuous radiation to induce mutation and generate a neurocytoma! After the cancer matures, we will transplant it into his cerebral cortex and fuse them together to obtain a “spiritual intercourse.” The most important thing in this experiment is that I must monitor it very carefully to protect his autonomic nervous system from the invasion of cancer cells; however, I really don’t know how long I can keep him from danger.

2/27/18

The experiment has begun!

4/15/2018

Suddenly I don’t want to continue! Although I have fully realized from the beginning that I am nothing but the second at Ryunosuke’s narcissistic harakiri — just background, a prop … I have a strong feeling of being deceived!

Yesterday I discovered cancer cells in his nervous system!

5/1/2018

I found the object and am carefully monitoring it. Moreover, we also found some primary abnormalities in other parts of his body.

6/12/2018

We have begun to design the details of the surgery.

When we were working on the design, we continued discussing Busotu’s theory of evolution. Ryunosuke thought that cancers, these new creatures, would no longer inherit the original life forms that are found on earth. They don’t have a predetermined gene combination — this is why for many centuries they have been unable to break through! But if we wait several thousand years more, one of them may steal the gene codes from its evolutionary mother’s body and link itself to the mainstream of biological evolution on earth. However, even at that time it will be still the most diversified and amorphous life form around, and it still won’t be able to produce offspring. Therefore, its evolutionary progress will yet be very difficult! Nevertheless, there is one thing we can be sure of: that they will finally become the most variable life form, the most eclectic “philosophers”!

I don’t think that things will come to pass exactly as in Busotu’s theory; humans will figure out a way to preserve the wisdom and the knowledge that have been developed over thousands of centuries into computers and will give up this kind of life form — the body — and transfer it over to cancer, that chaotic, disorderly creature!

But Ryunosuke thought that the spiritual level of humankind was purely bound by this kind of rational thought, and the critical point of the evolution of the cancer lies in its “chaos” — its wild chess moves. Hence, cancer is a creature with a more advanced form of spirituality!

In the end we both conceded that humans will never be willing to give up the rationality that they have built up for hundreds of thousands of years, and therefore evolution will bifurcate into a rational and mechanical civilization and a purely emotional and carnal one. Human rationality will be preserved because it will be hidden in computers, but the emotional part of human nature will be devoured by the more chaotic cancer thought! Will that be another kind of Utopia? We don’t know!

6/21/2018

Other parts of Ryunosuke’s body have begun to develop cancer cells, we are trying to prevent the spread….

We named that nerve in his arm, the “Cancer Brain”. It makes people first hearing it shiver!

7/6/2018

Tomorrow I will remove the “Cancer Brain” from his arm and transplant it into his cerebrum. The operation will be very complicated, I must join the cerebral cortex to the Cancer Brain in order to develop a “thought connection”! But I also have to be extremely careful so that the Cancer Brain won’t interfere with his vital center.

Doing this is almost like waving a sword to block raindrops! I think I can only sustain him for probably about twenty days. Ryunosuke wants me to keep him going for a month, but I’m not sure I can manage it!

Now he’s in the lab doing the last preparations. I know he’s nervous, only the tedium of the work is diverting his attention. And me too! Although I know very well that once the surgery is finished he will hardly last forty days — strange, I don’t feel like a murderer at all!

7/7/2018

The operation is completed, Ryunosuke is still under anesthesia. It seems that the Cancer Brain has already begun to connect to his cortex cells … ironically, he himself was the donor. Suddenly I almost burst out laughing!

I’m tired, but I can’t sleep yet!

7/8/2018

Ryunosuke has regained consciousness, the “spiritual intercourse” has begun!

Without reason, I started to shake with excitement … in the spiritual realm, today is even more important than when people landed on the moon!

The result: his consciousness was very clear. Has the experiment failed? We are not sure!

7/9/2018

The experiment has not failed. It was only that his cerebral nerves had not yet made contact with nerve synapses of the Cancer Brain. In addition, a reflex inhibition has occurred in Ryunosuke’s brain.

The only thing to do is wait.

7/10/2018

Time is getting short and we can’t wait too much longer! I’ve already begun to use the laser cutter to protect his autonomic nervous system — I don’t know how long he can hold on! Also, similar kind of cancers have appeared in several other parts of his body. I’m trying my best to maintain his life.

Ryunosuke keeps on trying to enter the thought of the Cancer Brain, although we both know that the success of this experiment will not be determined by any human effort!

7/11/2018

We can’t fail! Otherwise, it would be just a waste of his life! He’s become even weaker!

7/12/2018

It got through!! At 11:19:37 a.m. Ryunosuke’s consciousness was suddenly interfered with strongly by something!

He started to mumble meaningless syllables. He moved about irregularly. I am absolutely certain it was not a normal neural reaction!

7/14/2018

He seemed to try his best to get rid of the interference from the Cancer Brain, his expression appeared horrible! Although his physical condition worsened, I still had my gun with me! It was a strong and strange fear….

7/15/2018

I believe that Ryunosuke is communicating to some degree with the Cancer Brain, though his behavior is still beyond prediction. I guess he would find all those philosophical theories he had read before useless!

Now his whole body began to ulcerate, and he became an exact “Cancer Man”! The cancer cells had already begun to invade his autonomic nervous system. I strove to clear them away, but the stench made it difficult for me to continue working….

7/16/2018

Ryunosuke was already too feeble to stand up and collapsed on the operating table, his whole body was covered with pus … it has become difficult to recognize that he was the same young man who was so good-looking and full of life! I believe that in two days he will be completely gangrenous….

I still have no way to figure out the condition of the “communication.” What I recorded was still a bunch of meaningless syllables! Perhaps I should look at the EEG, but I’m too tired….

7/17/2018

I believe that this will be the last page of my record.

At 3:17:21 pm., Ryunosuke suddenly got rid of the interference from the Cancer Brain, and called me vaguely…

“It’s beautiful!” These are the only words I could understand. His body looked like a monster’s. It abruptly occurred to me that I should do something — I carried him on my back to the roof of the lab and sat him up by the rail….

It was possibly an aesthetic touch, but I sensed the afternoon sunlight attach to his body floating like flower petals, his shadow on the ground was still clearly the shape of a human being….

He moved his head and looked around slowly. I was startled by the scene — the grasping of the essence and beauty of the Universe….

A million years from now, will there really be a world full of these decayed and irrational creature-philosophers?

He fell down panting … the cancer had already destroyed his vital center! Soon he stopped breathing and his body stiffened…. Only those tumors on his body still emitted pus….

I bowed my head and started to vomit!

Disney Island

by Lu Ping 路平

It was like a shock from a thunderbolt — he felt a gold needle bore into his skull. Then a stabbing glare floated itchily above his eye sockets. He shook several times in succession, as though he had wakened from the deepest slumber in his life.  

On that day when he floated up from the dark depths to the surface near Lake Michigan’s expansive and misty shoreline, burning lights had also shone on his mottled, phosphorescent corpse. His facial hair drooped like seaweed splitting the sky into several narrow slits. Then again he was buried by the accumulating layers of sediment; and until the light searching here and there again pierced through, he did not know how long … how long … how long it had been since that event had transpired.  

Now, through his blurred vision, he sensed human shadows moving back and forth, pushing him into one door after another. It appeared as if the shadowy figures were wearing a kind of uniform. Silently they drifted all around him. Perhaps he was lying down, perhaps sitting up; sometimes he seemed wide awake, and sometimes apparently in dreamland. It did not hurt, nor did it itch. It felt like his insides were being scraped out and then squeezed and pressed. Only after many days did he come to know that they had been repairing and replacing all the organs in his body.  

Afterwards, he found himself surrounded by something that appeared to be a radar screen or maybe a large, arc-like video monitor that was divided into many sections with signals flashing all the time. Occasionally, an image would spin weirdly, like several superimposed spheres…. Gradually the human shadows that surrounded him coalesced into solid shapes — white, silent, and expressionless. Once in a while, he pried open his eyelids and caught a glimpse of them. Sometimes he was able to distinguish that, mixed in among the human beings, there were also some robots walking mechanically about.  

One morning he tried to open his mouth, making an effort to clear his throat. But what he heard was a few sharp, weak grunts. Only then did he realize how weak he was — he had been lying down the whole day without moving. However, at the same time, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that a little of his hearing had at last been restored.  

Slowly he was able enough to get out of bed. One day he rose up in front of the screen. Probably the screen had detected that he was looking at it, for it transformed all of a sudden into a shiny, clean mirror. Aside from the reflection of what was in the room, there stood a strange person in the mirror. (It made him take a step back in fright!) Gradually regaining his senses, he examined himself in the mirror with great curiosity: the thick hair on his forehead, his shining eyeballs, the chest muscles and hair. He could tell that some parts of his body were transplants and some were surgical implants, the latter still brand new and stiff.  

He tried to raise his arms; they were heavy and covered with light, shiny blond hair. His palm touched his face. There he discovered something strange: He could feel several lumps on his nose bone. It seemed inharmoniously caved in. He was startled — that sure felt familiar. He continued rubbing his nose, sweat dripping from his fingertips. With his body covered by a stiff and coarse layer of skin, it seemed that only this stubby old nose remained as a link to his original life.  

In his mind, except for this moment of insight, all was confused and chaotic. Nevertheless, the Space Era learning process was still able to proceed without any hindrance in his chaotic mind, even in the case of a split subconsciousness. In fact, his learning process had begun very early — that radar-like screen monitoring him all day was also responsible for keeping track of both the rate of his progress and the efficiency of his learning.  

For the next several days his progress was quite rapid. (This showed that his intelligence was on the road to recovery.) He was already familiar with the fundamental rules of the Space Era and had progressed to the principles of “Ethics” and “Order”. “Order” in the Space Era, in short, meant nothing other than that labor was divided up according to regions. Thus, the world was no longer demarcated by borders; and concepts like ideology had for a long time ceased to be a problem. Furthermore, the division of labor had to be clear: From the time they were born, people everywhere knew what their work duties were according to the Program. This was simply the principle of “Ethics” that people all over the world had to obey.  

Because the learning process was at the peak of its efficiency during the exchange of the subconsciousness and the unconsciousness while a subject was asleep, the florescent screen was never turned off. Undergoing cram courses day and night, he was already able to remember quite clearly the division of labor in each of the regions of the world. For example, the region where he found himself specialized in technology — it was the so-called the “Scientific Region”. Apparently, all of the people there worked on the cutting edge of technology or dedicated themselves to the vanguard of scientific research.  

As for himself? He had been picked up by chance and was now also the object of an experiment that aimed at resolving some scientific question. One day when he was stirred from the middle of a dream, his intelligence, which had recently been making rapid progress, had already induced and deduced the following strange story from the continual images on the screen:  

The fact was that he had originally been a corpse long forgotten at the bottom of Lake Michigan. At the moment, it was only because outer space exploration had been heavily restricted immediately after the signing of the Cosmos Treaty in the Space Era, and also because ocean oil sampling research had gradually become passe since oil had been replaced by the New Energy, that the study of lake sediments suddenly burst out from obscurity to become the new direction of technological development in the Scientific Region. Thus, it was on account of this that a lake survey team had dredged him up.  

The acid water, having permeated his body over many years, had long ago totally rotted away his skin and organs. What was surprising was that, in spite of this, his skull had exhibited a weak reaction to the strong electric shock. Thereupon, a research group had reconstructed him, attempting to simulate his original memory patterns according to what was left in his skull. The most important question for contemporary science was then whether or not this simulated structure would still be able to retain exactly the same memory. His outside appearance and so on not having been the object of the experiment, they went about their business without much care, and that was why his rough form in the end somewhat resembled that of those who had brought him back to life.  

“Since his intelligence hasn’t shown any signs of decay, the recovery of his memory should only be a matter of time,” members of the group behind the screen confidently communicated among themselves using headsets after carefully reading his EEG.  

They decided once more to increase his rate of stimulation: The screen immediately was split into millions of moving images flying continuously in front of him. All kinds of things on the screen passed through his pupils from every direction. These were only meant to stimulate distinguished recognition responses: One time, when he saw a large betel-nut tree, the corner of his mouth winced a bit; another time when he eyed a potato-shaped island, he unexpectedly cried out, “Ah, ah!” Thus, his responses were all meticulously recorded into the “ERA computer” and immediately sorted and analyzed. The data were again fed back onto the screen. Flying in front of him, by his side, and in his half-real, half-illusory fantasy were stands of reeds, bamboo, papaya, banana, oleander, magnolia … and more and more familiar things. Gradually these things assembled one by one into a half-real, half-illusory image.

“Hey! Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” The face made by a naughty boy in front of the oleander and magnolia made him break out into a smile. Mumbling and wildly waving his arms, he tried to follow that fading image.  

The EEG at that moment was just like the one generated by shocking his frontal lobe with the electric probe — particularly when they did it to his sensitive “pleasure center”. Behind the screen, the scientists all stood up and anxiously scrutinized the rapid fluctuations of the EEG curves. However, such an anomaly in the feedback system was enough to make even more images of children appear on the screen. Sometimes there would be the picture of the soft, fine neck hair of a boy, sometimes a flower-like smile. His excitation grew — his fingertips trembled slightly, his eyelids briefly opened, and out rolled several tear drops. The children on the screen kept on playing and shouting. They seemed to be two brothers. Suddenly, beside the two brothers appeared a woman with charming eyes and cheerful smile … the woman had long, slender fingers and slim, white ankles … treading on the patterned floor, she always made a light shuffling sound … ah!  

He listened attentively, following the rustle of her skirt, and then, always pretending to lift his head up absentmindedly, he would glance at her, his ears filling with the pitter-patter … ah! It was that pair of delicate, white feet treading lightly upon the floor, busy doing housework, pitter-patter, pitter-patter… Yes, it was after dinner, she was washing dishes … and then? And then he seemed to become drowsy, his vision fading. Again, he heard the shuffle of feet. Then it sounded this time as though something was falling down … ah! It was her underwear. He felt the woman’s tender skin … there was a lingering scent of her hair … ah! It was not arousing, it was just a very familiar sense of warmth, as if he were once again enwrapped in her most familiar, most private deep darkness, as softly and as tightly as before.

Just when the reading of the sensor pointed nearly to the peak of stimulus, the images abruptly stopped, and the lights came on brightly. He discovered that he was lying stark naked on a cold operating table. It was nothing but an experiment, held in a controlled lab with artificial illusions. This was too much, he covered his face and started crying. He felt ashamed and lonely — the pain of being played with, manipulated, and kicked about. And then, amidst this extraordinary fear, his thoughts gradually became clear: He hated those technicians who were always standing around him — they were so attentive and cautious, but they were also so cold and cruel! Were these people human beings or not? Why did they look upon his pain with so little sympathy?  

“Human beings are magnanimous, unselfish, devoted, and ethical. We live according to the principle of the division of labor, contribute what we can, and bring our full capabilities into play for the sake of humankind.” He came upon those principles he had learned during his learning process. Yes, he understood that the experiment had already concluded; his contribution to contemporary science had probably ended there. It was determined that his memories could be restored, but only via those most familiar things, since only those things were able to dredge out his deepest pleasures and emotions….  

Behind the screen, the specialists had just quickly converted the results of the experiment into digital data and entered them into the ERA Computer. These might be some help to the study of the dehydration, storage, and canning of memories, and also might aid in the refinement of some “pleasure” component of the mind. As to the emotional portion, that had just occurred by accident during the experiment, it was by all means something passe. The ERA Computer immediately took it and put it into the trash file.  

Anyway, the experiment was already over! Near him several robots began tearing apart the screen which had been shut down and started putting back the equipment boxes. After a little while, the acrylic lab was going to be shrunk into several mazes — to be used as an arena for the fights between Digital Mouse and Analogue Mouse in the next experiment.  

In the dim light, he was alone, still holding his head and sitting there. Yes, he knew that he still remembered…remembered that he once had a happy family, a wife and two lovable boys, and had lived on that island of eternal spring — it seemed to be a shady green yard, a suburban apartment, in the yard at the bottom grew oleander and magnolia…. Yes, he remembered, he remembered, he could certainly recall it! But, once he lost the intense stimulation from the screen, it was as though he was trapped in the midst of a boundless darkness. He only had that one clear clue, like a strand of seaweed on a reef; a lonely star in the dark night, which he groped for as it merged into and out of his jet-black past. That feeling seemed to take him back to the scene of the accident, and his life-or- death struggle in the freezing water. 

“What has happened to me?” he desperately mumbled. “What has happened to me? What has caused me to fall from the peak of happiness?” He waved his arms wildly.  

It seemed to be the last moment … the last moment when he was still desperately and involuntarily waving his arms.  

But what on earth had happened to him?  

The lake water had overcome him and had swallowed up his struggling arms.  

He vaguely knew that it had been a hijacking. A hijacking! The negotiations had failed, and the hijackers had blown up the plane!  

* * *

He sank quickly to the bottom of the lake, for he had never learned swimming.  

In the dimness, he knew it had been Middle Eastern terrorists who had done it!  

What a shame he had never learned to swim!  

At P.E. class in high school, a row of shaven-haired monks lined up by the side of the pool. Slim as the wick of a candle, he stood shivering and shaking at the edge of the water with his toes tightly clawing the slippery edge of the tile. Following the commands, he stretched out his arms horizontally, raised his heels up a bit, and then called out like a frightened kitten, “Sir, I’m scared!” In some circumstances, he was quite comical, a very timid, little person. 

Actually, the target of the hijacking was only the American plane and American citizens. He, a stubby-nosed man of the yellow race (and still a little man even for the yellow race), had become involved for no reason.  

Little men were always dragged into troubles for no reason. But this time, he was dragged into the vast deep.  

Was it his fault that he had never learned how to swim?  

* * *  

Who were those terrorists? His brother-in-law, Jingguo, probably understood more clearly than he did.  

At any rate, they were a gang of religious zealots! That was a chaotic period by all means!  

No wonder, Jingguo would always shake his head and sigh.  

As a matter of fact, he originally did not want to go on that errand…. Moreover, after finishing the business in Chicago, there was another meeting in New York to attend. It was really too far away for him. 

Truly, once he had left Taiwan, his heart immediately lost all its tranquility. He could hardly understand how some people could fly on international airline routes in the air day after day, just like acrobats on the trapeze. He also could not understand why people would buy foreign real estate and take their family overseas. For him, just as soon as he departed from Taiwan, he began to worry that he might never come back.  

“Sir, I’m scared!”  

He was always a timid and naive person. Nevertheless, how could he possibly know that his corpse would someday sink to the bottom of some foreign lake?  

* * *  

Originally, he did not even want to go on that errand. 

When he was just about to depart from Taoyuan International Airport, his wife tenderly consoled him, telling him not to worry, she and the boys would soon follow him over.  

Who would have thought that this separation would last forever?  

In fact, his intention was only to stay in U.S. for about two months; then the summer vacation would come, and his wife could bring the boys to join him. And the most important thing was to take the boys to the place they had dreamed of for all their lives — Disneyland!  

The elder, who was six, addressed him with bright shining eyes, saying, “Daddy, there Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck are the same size as real people!”  

“Yes, son, they can even shake your hand, like this….” he said softly, grabbing the boy by the hand.  

“Daddy is going to take us to the world’s biggest amusement park!” the four-year-old chimed in naively.  

“Listen to your mother, and she’ll take you and your brother over there!” For the sake of their dreams, he gritted his teeth and held back his tears, then turned toward the departure gate and left.  

“Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Disneyland! Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Disneyland! Mickey…” the younger kept on shouting as he turned his back.  

“Stupid, say good-bye to daddy!” the elder interrupted.  

“Good-bye, daddy!”  

So long, daddy!…  

* * *  

He was a good father and a considerate husband. Every day he took Vitamin E for health; he was so satisfied with his small world.  

In his small, small world, he was an employee in a government department, not too low on the totem pole, and was more or less a specialist official. He could write fairly well and there was no one who could process documents as well as he could. The job was easy, he could even lean over his desk and take a short nap after lunch. And he always received an “A” in his performance evaluation.  

Although the department and section chiefs shifted jobs about as often as if they were on a merry-go-round, his specialized position was secure. On his off time, he would diligently practice Chinese calligraphy. Once, using his brush to absorb the full amount of ink, he wrote down this short maxim, “LONGEVITY IS PROSPERITY” and posted it upon the wall facing his desk in the office. Looking at it made him feel at ease. The scroll also helped remind him to take his pep pills every day.  

Whenever he passed through the park in the morning, he would never forget to stop and take several deep breaths….  

Was it or wasn’t it? Was it perhaps because he had taken care of himself so well that his skull not only had a greater storage of some rare metals than the average person, but the activity of some chemical compounds therein were much larger than that of other skulls? The research group said this was why he had been able to come back to life after so long a time. Otherwise, today he would still be a corpse at the bottom of Lake Michigan. 

LONGEVITY IS PROSPERITY! 

* * *  

“What do you want to live long for?” Jingguo, his brother-in-law back then, glared disagreeably at him.  

His wife had two elder sisters; and whenever the three brothers-in-law got together, they liked to shoot the breeze. Usually it was after supper, the women chatted as they washed dishes while the men would be busy sipping tea in small cups and competing with the din.  

The husband of the eldest sister was actually a very honest and conservative fellow, with the only abnormality probably being that he liked to buy dissident gazettes. And when he came across some underground news, he would lower his voice to show off what he had read to his brothers-in-law.  

The other brother-in-law, Jingguo, was the most talented and had the broadest vision, and paid much of his attention to politics and current affairs. He would always shake his head pessimistically every time he got through analyzing world affairs and trends, and sigh out that this world was absolutely hopeless!  

On the other hand, he, in the eyes of Jingguo, was an ostrich always sticking his head in the sand and quietly building his own happy household. All he cared about was the thin layer of sand under his feet.  

Nevertheless, Jingguo’s insight was correct anyway. In this screwed up world, his little castle, the castle which was built on sand, very easily came crashing down in the turmoil created by those terrorists….  

Yes, it was a very confused and turbulent period after all!  

His small family, his small happiness, and his small hopes were all destroyed in that big bang!  

From then on, his small corpse was buried at the bottom of the big lake — along with a small, shattered dream.  

PART II 

His heart was as hot as fire and his face full of excited tears as he boarded the “Express Rocket”, which was used in the Space Era to connect any two points on the globe. The trip, from launch to landing, would take just fifteen minutes — but fifteen minutes was still too long! Buckled up well in his safety belt, he did not want to linger even an extra second.  

Some travel guides suggested taking the “Intercontinental Shuttle” that pierced directly through the earth’s core because one could enjoy viewing the molten magma along the way. But when he found out that the journey would take forty-five minutes, he did not even consider it since it meant wasting another meaningless half hour!  

Strange, hundreds of years having gone by, and now being unwilling to hold off for even a few more minutes. He began to laugh at himself for the impatience as he began to hear the roar of the blast-off.  

In fact, ever since he had finally pulled together just a few days ago those bits and pieces of the past that had been floating in his memory, returning to his homeland had become his only desire.  

…Once I’m home, then everything will be all right … if only I could go home…. He had kept consoling himself over and over again.  

From the moment that his memory had recovered, he was no longer able to tolerate those people who had proclaimed the supremacy of technology. They were all a bunch of plain-faced, scientific weirdos. Peering out the rocket window at a passing meteor shower, he contemplated and shook his head.  

Besides being indifferent and emotionless, those scientists were essentially quite haughty and chauvinistic — he could tell that they were obviously proud that their own region was at the cutting edge of technology. And, according to their slightly contemptuous description, the other regions of the world were not as highly developed as theirs. For instance, all of the Asian continent had become an exclusive agricultural and mining zone dedicated to producing all the world’s foodstuffs and devoted to galactic mineralogy and metallurgy. Africa was now covered almost completely by hot yellow sand, with only a few oases becoming natural game reserves. Europe had become the Industrial Region specializing in manufacturing, and the Middle East was still a kind of “powder keg”, responsible for carrying out interstellar warfare.  

Outside there was another shiny meteor shower flying by. He pulled the shade down, but what flew through his mind was what on earth had happened over those several hundred years. In fact, he had tried to ask that group of scientists, but they had no idea. Moreover, they would unabashedly reply, “No one wants to study history, because no one wants to use it as a lesson.” It is simply because, according to their beliefs, in the Space Era, everyone operates in accordance with the principles of division of labor among regions, and the possibility of something going wrong is zero.  

What had happened to the world over these years? Relying on but a few short days’ observation, he could only vaguely guess. It seems as if a critical change had occurred: Taking technology as an example, although there had obviously been much progress compared with that of the past, technology now seemed somehow moribund and dull — nothing like the technology of his day that was so vibrant, diverse, and full of possibilities. Perhaps it was because most of the mysteries in the universe had been uncovered, but in comparison with what he had known, this future world was no longer interesting.  

He could not control his disappointment…in this future world, and in those technocrats who highly praised specialization but were actually highly restricted themselves. All he wanted to do was to return home, and then everything would be all right — to return to his birthplace, to that wonderful ocean, to that beautiful island…only then would his anxious heart be still….  

Suddenly came a big bang. The rocket began to decelerate from orbit … and then in a wink, it shifted 180 degrees and started straight down. “We are on course for Taiwan Island. The surface temperature is two hundred ninety-seven degrees Kelvin. We will be landing in five minutes and forty seconds…. We hope you have had a pleasant journey,” the pilot warmly and articulately announced over the loudspeaker.  

In just five minutes … he shut his eyelids, joy filling his heart. Images of the splendor of Taiwan passed before him, floating like a green leaf on water … ah! That dark blue sea, that sea that turned such a fantastic, beautiful color as it approached the coast. The tropical fish swimming delightfully in the shallow waters…ah! His eyes welled up with tears for these familiar scenes.  

Each time he thought of Taiwan, both cheeks would convulse uncontrollably and tears would fall. For days his strong facial expression had astonished those scientists who specialized in human body measurements. But what surprised him was that those stuffy-brained, pedantic scientists had also shown extraordinary interest in his birthplace. According to them, aside from interstellar travel, after skiing by the Bering Sea and surfing in New Guinea, Taiwan was voted the world’s third most favorite vacation paradise. When those scientists discovered that he was about to return to Taiwan, they all eyed him with a little envy. That kind of change in emotion on their expressionless faces was indeed very rare and even a little weird. In any case, seeing that they were so interested in Taiwan — his beloved homeland — made him very proud.  

Now it was just three minutes before his return home…home…ah! What a wonderful word! He remembered a few verses from a Tang poem he had once memorized, but not very well, it went something like: “Left home young…”, “Accent unchanged, my hair grays and falls…”, and “The children stare at me but don’t know who I am….”  

As he continued stumbling through his recital, his mind took on the reserve of an old man. He tried imagining himself as almost bald, with a thin, white beard…uh! Very old! He unconsciously stroked his chin…but how could he possibly have such a white beard? He was just something that had been rebuilt, a half-blooded hybrid. Aye! Not just the children, not a single person would be able to recognize him now…no one! He was so lonely in this future world….  

And what about his family? His most cherished wife and children?  

Oh! He did not want to think that they were already very far from him; but at the same time, he could not possibly hope that they would still be alive. No matter what, he was the only one left, somehow miraculously returned to life; and this thought could not help but chill the excitement that had stirred in his heart over the last few minutes….  

At that moment there was another bang outside the window. He reluctantly opened his eyes and unintentionally peeked at the rows of seats inside the rocket. It was obvious that most of the passengers had come for pleasure. They were all wearing gaudy-colored clothes — their faces still with concentrated looks, but this time they were concentrating on vacation. Alas, how different he was from them. No one in the world could understand his sadness. He sighed silently, shook his head, and rubbed the tears from his cheeks. Bending down he opened the window shade. Outside they had just pierced through the atmosphere. Fifty seconds later, the rocket landed vertically. They had finally arrived.  

Realizing that the rocket had touched down, he could not avoid having a tiny feeling of regret — the steep angle of the vertical descent had cost him a long-anticipated view of the Pacific shoreline. Nevertheless, he did not have much time to think, for he could already hear the din outside. Suppressing his rising emotions, he peered out the window. Jesus! In the square, amid the numerous Express Rockets, were groups of hula-clad teenagers waving small flags; rosy-cheeked children passing out leis; and dozens of beautiful women all clad in traditional Chinese dress and giving out fragrant kisses.  

Flowers grew everywhere around the circumference of the landing field, and at a closer look, one could see that this background was actually made up of many quite different smaller gardens: Some were planted completely with tropical ferns, some with northern pines; some were lush green and some in full bloom; some were just like the parks found in the detailed realist paintings of the Victorian Age; and others closely resembled the simple elegance of the Japanese-style drawings. Inside the gardens, flocks of mandarin ducks were playing in the water as cranes strolled about, parrots mimicked passersby, and black swans raised their heads to take a look…. And again, scattered here and there in this Eden-like setting were those small children and beautiful women all wearing their sweet, cheerfully bright, programed smiles as they gazed vacuously at each travel guest….  

He looked around with great curiosity following the tourists ahead of him as they stepped onto the “walk”, In a wink he was whisked from the cabin through the Sky Bridge and into the Great Welcome Hall. The Hall was built entirely of Mercury rocks — the solar system’s most up-to-date construction material. These exceedingly shining and reflective stones kept a building warm in the winter and cool in the summer.  

In among the irregular-shaped reflections from the rocks, there was huge rotating electronic poster that displayed the island’s most famous, most beautiful, and most unique tourist sights, restaurants, and night clubs featuring new shows every night:  

Want to enjoy life, come join our Sundown Dinner Cruise and watch the sun set over the Pacific Ocean….  

…Need some exhilaration? Catch the Superhydrofoil to the Casinos on the Turtle Island….  

…Looking for romance, why not ride a white horse to view the Sea of Clouds from the top of Jade Mountain….  

…In love with nature? Take the Giant Turtle to Mt. Ali and visit the Sacred Grove….  

…If you’re keen on observing primitive lifestyles, come over to Orchid Island and see the Harvest Festival, the Dwarf Ceremony, the Full Moon Sacrifice, and the Human Skull Rituals….  

…Want to construct the future? Have a look at the Space Exhibit, the Light Year Show, the Galactic Display, and the Cosmic Exposition….  

…If you came here to eat…well, we suggest you travel to the offshore islands to sample the seafood or to Eight Fairy Cave to taste the game and produce…. Or you can enjoy globefish, shark, king crab, shad, as well as fruit fox, golden chicken, Asian cobra, and spotted deer available daily at our first-class hotels….  

…Nightclubs every night provide big bands and big dancing pools/great relaxation and great fun/incredible mystery and incredible surprise….

He was bewildered. In the end, he just closed his eyes and glided in.  

The “walk” came to a stop at the scarlet banner of the Great Welcome Hall. He then followed the other rocket passengers and boarded a numbered electric shuttle bus that zoomed straight to the downtown Vacation Inn. On route he did not encounter a single bit of familiar scenery: Above him stretched a roller-coaster ride that extended for miles on end. Below passed one amusement park after another, each especially designed for tourists — there was a rare bird sanctuary, and then a crocodile farm, and then a water garden with dolphin shows, and then a wild animal preserve called “Safari” as well as an self-served fruit garden.  

As he gazed at the strange city that gradually emerged before his eyes, an indescribable feeling of fear and nervousness arose in his heart….  

Finally, he was sitting in his suite at the hotel. It was full of hanging plants and had a fragrant scent. The bathroom faucets were made of 18-K gold and let flow steaming hot-spring water. His nervous heart suddenly relaxed and he grew tired…. He took a pressure shower, the joints of his arms and legs cracked under the hot steam massage, and the pain began to go away. Later, he tried out all the massagers and vibrators by the bedside and managed to sleep for a short while until nightfall. Then he walked out of that 203-story hotel.  

He discovered very soon that all the shops on the street outside the hotel were devoted one hundred percent to tourism — selling nothing but souvenirs made of plastic and acrylic. As he wandered slowly down the street, he gradually became bored; he was not like those curious tourists. Yet the funny thing was in this great big city he could not find even a single item that was not a souvenir.  

He strolled lazily. The whole street was filled with the sound of rock ‘n roll music. Growing tired of gaping at the waves of tourists, he passed a flower clock: it was almost 9 p.m., no wonder it was dark. He turned and quickly went back.  

Just at that moment the flower clock chimed the hour. There was a huge explosion, and the sky filled with millions of bright stars — actually it was all kinds of wonderful fireworks. Accompanied by splendid symphonic music, multicolored smoke slowly ascended, turning into a magnificent design in the sky. As the orchestra played, masked paraders pranced about in colorful attire — some funny, some handsome, some strange, some magical, and some, in his eye, outright ridiculous. In among this continuously passing troop, he unexpectedly caught a glimpse of Mickey Mouse with his two large, rounded ears and fixed smile, and also Donald Duck wearing a small blue hat and with his erect tail. Suddenly his heart acted as though it were stabbed by something and began to sting uncontrollably.  

* * *  

Over the next few days, he walked about like a madman in this amusement-park city so neat and spotlessly clean, without even an unpleasant sound.  

Tourists roamed about everywhere, all concentrating on amusing themselves. Among these strange people, he could not find anyone who could remind he about the past, nor could he find anything that would prove that he had ever lived in this city.  

In this entirely foreign setting, he could not help but remember the 1980s — a bustling, dirty, overcrowded, noisy, decaying, and chaotic period. However, in the chaos there was some kind of order, in the crowdedness a certain camaraderie…. But now — where were those hard-working people in that pathological prosperity? Those naive little country bumpkins like himself? Those people who always appeared to be so anxious and unstable under the neon lights? And those people who never stopped telling white lies, never quit pursuing small returns, but yet were always so diligent and respectful?  

At times, he just wanted to rip the masks off those Mickeys, Donalds, Goofys and Snow Whites, and then have them answer these questions!  

Several days later, he completely abandoned his pursuit of what was no longer there. Searching for his lost past was hopeless in this amusement-park setting. Nevertheless, he consoled himself thinking that a city’s appearance is bound to change — if he could only get out of this city, he would certainly rediscover the home that he dreamed of.  

As he reflected about the large betel-nut tree by the field, the rustling sound of wind passing through the bamboo grove, the wind-blown rice stalks waving in the moonlight, the egret shaking its wings on the back of a water buffalo … the sulkiness in his heart from the last few days immediately dissipated. Moreover, he remembered that what he liked to do best when he was small was to lie down on the rocks and listen to the babbling sound of water running through the field. His heart nearly sang out with happiness….  

…Ah … even if he had to live in the city to study and get a job after he grew up, his roots still were planted firmly in the south Taiwan countryside.  

* * *  

He took a tour SCC (Superconducting Cable Car) and exited from the city. As soon as the magnetic clutch was engaged, the SCC whisked its way forward, the whole north-south freeway looking just like a wide fan belt. The driver of the SCC did not have to sit up front to steer, and thus was also able to act as a tour guide, continuously describing in a comical voice the entertainment spots along the freeway….  

He could not comprehend that the amusement park extended all the way along the freeway, the area just becoming wider, and the scale even larger. Among the rides were intermixed verdant golf courses, horse runs, archery ranges, tiger hunting grounds, fishing ponds, whale and shark hunting lagoons, and so on — each offering entertaining and exciting facilities for young people. Besides these, around all the island were boundless white sand beaches and reefs where you could dive for coral, observe the underwater scenery, and spear-hunt fish.  

Then he discovered things he could not believe: what originally had been a mine had been converted into a “ghost cave” for people to explore, forests had been transformed into places for climbing and skiing, or into rows of “honeymoon cabins”. Produce was no longer cultivated along the freeway — there were just a few rice paddies and rows of sugar cane here and there, used only as displays to show those curious tourists how their ancestors cultivated food.  

Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that, from north to south, the whole island could be turned into something for and only for the tourists, it was nothing but one giant amusement park!  

In the face of this incredible park, his nostalgic mood gradually vanished. It seemed that he had entered a weird and absurd dream, completely lost in a thoroughly unfamiliar land.  

Dispirited, he took a seat in the sleeping section of the SCC. Not far outside, the blue-green ocean embraced a crystal-clear river, the freshest ocean air blew over his face…ah! The amusement park was amazingly clean, neat, quiet — the pollution and din of the past completely gone. He could not even find any of the trash that would usually have littered the roads in those days.  

Everything, indeed, had changed! He curled himself up in the bed and lethargically contemplated: Yes, long ago he used to sit in the southbound train heading home and gaze at the lush, green fields, wherein the stinking, murky rivers flowed toward the broad bay at sunset….  

Yes, in those last few years…even an ostrich like himself had gleaned from the papers that too much chemical and pesticidal waste was buried under the land of his roots — not to mention the heavy metals, toxic compounds, and radioactive that flowed into the rivers and out to the sea.  

In particular, the coastal villages suffered from cadmium waste, southern towns endured dioxin pollution, and victims of PCBs proliferated in the west…. In addition, there was contamination of milk and cooking oil, smog, acid rain, dust, and noise pollution…. Most people of that time — even ostriches like himself — had to admit that they were indeed living in the midst of a terribly catastrophic nightmare.  

…But what was even more horrible was the nightmare before him…he now awoke! Although the filth and pollution of his era had disappeared, what remained before his eyes was an indifferent, boring Eden-like Disneyland! Could it have been that this was a case of “when something reaches at extremity, it then turns to the other side?”, an effort made to save the environment? Or was it just that pollution in those years had really reached the critical point, and this was a phoenix risen from the ashes, a totally artificial paradise?  

Back then he remembered being shoved into a bus that restlessly exhaled fumes. Outside, the land was gray, the air thick with the burnt ash of waste dispersed by the wind. He glanced back upon the crowded city and knew that on the sixty-meter-high garbage mountain, a firework festival was now being held….  

He leaned back in the SCC sadly reflecting….  

Ah! He recalled those evenings long ago…standing by an open ditch in front of his apartment and staring at the stinky, black water coming from who knows where, he would turn his head and gaze at his wife sweatily working in the chicken not far away. In his heart, he was secretly worried. But he was, just then, only secretly worried!  

…And after browsing through the newspapers and reading stories about a filthy world full of crime, extortion, and other fin-de-siecle, shortsighted behaviors, his attention would turn to his sons who were building a castle with Lincoln logs. He, as their father, felt sorry for them and troubled about their future…. Little did they know how easily their Lincoln log castle could collapse in that tumultuous world!  

Yet as a father in those days how could he have ever foreseen all what would happen?… Even though the island was full of politicians shouting and arguing through loudspeakers, hardly anyone really paid attention to the prosperity of future generations!  

Well, was it or wasn’t it? He reflected very hard. Was this amusement-park-like setting right before his eyes just a manifestation of an extreme want of ideals, the end of commercialization. Or was it perhaps a world-wide trend. He knew no one here could tell him the answer, no one could say what on earth had happened during this long period, or how the chaos of that era had ended up with this superamusement park. He closed his eyelids and wiped off a few tears from the corners of his eyes. He was no longer willing to pursue the answer.  

On the other hand, it might have been fortunate that Taiwan had become a splendid amusement park….  

At the SCC terminal he tapped the tour guide on the shoulder, shook his hand, and with some sorrow bid him farewell. Looking at the colorful sunset, he stepped out of the car and headed along the road toward the beautiful, yet melancholy Taiwan sunset.  

As the sun descended, he crossed a bridge under which flowed a turbulent stream. Suddenly a sorrowful Taiwanese folk song called “Reminiscing” flew to his head….  

Reminiscing… Reminiscing…  

As the Winter passes, the Spring returns to the land.  

Beautiful flowers bloom everywhere…. 

If we don’t think of the future, we are destined to lose our past, he thought. If we don’t look out for our descendants, we are doomed to end up abandoning the heritage of our hard-working ancestors. This made him vaguely recall another line, this time from the “Comprehensive History of Taiwan” he had read while in high school, “Taiwan has never had a recorded history….”  

PART III

Hair scattered, beard unshaven and clothes ragged, he wandered the whole year over the mountains and waters. He himself had also become part of the Taiwan scenery.  

One day on a cliff, he accidentally stumbled upon a stone monument engraved with the following:  

THE ISLAND OF TAIWAN WAS PURCHASED BY  

WALT DISNEY INTERNATIONAL, INC.,  

IN THE YEAR -10 S.E. (2075 A.D.)

At that moment he recalled his sons’ dreams so many years ago — about Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse and Disneyland. Unconsciously, he began to hum that trademark song of the Disney empire:  

It’s a world of laughter, a world of tears;  

It’s a world of hopes, and a world of fears.  

There’s so much that we share;  

That it’s time we’re aware.  

It’s a small world after all….

Yes! Who could deny that this future world was so small and so beautiful?…  

He kept on humming that familiar melody, a slight, subtle smile appearing on his face. Turning toward the magnificent and sublime Pacific Ocean, he leaped off the cliff!  

Ice Cream

by Fan Huang 黃凡

1.

The spaceship Hamburger 303 has departed, carrying the three of us from the New Colonized Galaxy.         

“Hamburgers” were one of our ancient ancestor’s favorite foods. The reason why our huge fleets have called “Hamburger,” was indeed commemorative. For whenever we think of food, we can’t help but be reminded of our predecessors.

Little Gateau, Beany, and I, the three of us, were actually chased out of the New Colonized Galaxy. It was hardly honorable, but we don’t hold any grudge. (Remember, aside from EATING, there isn’t anything that can ruffle our feathers.)

The New Colonized Galaxy contains 10 to the 11th stars, that’s about a third of the Home Galaxy. From the name “New” we can infer that there was an “Old” Colonized Galaxy from which our ancestors colonized first.

It is said that many years ago the spaceship Hamburger 74 once boldly sought out the Home Galaxy with Captain Melon in command.

Whether Captain Melon was a hero or an idiot, we still have no definitive answer. (Again, we’re only interested in eating. Searching for answers we’re not interested in [like he did] just exhausts our brains.)

The story goes that Captain Melon lead his ship, the Hamburger 74, and three support ships to the limits of the universe searching for the Home Galaxy.

Time warped and Melon left his galaxy’s local group and entered the vast emptiness.

Captain Melon was stupefied — just think about it, the vast emptiness of space — except for nothing, there was nothing!

But Melon kept on going, eating up the first support ship on the way, for those ships were the only things he had left to eat.

He didn’t leave anything to waste, not even the screws which took a long time to chew. But after he had eaten through the second support ship, he burped and decided to turn back.

The situation had forced him to make this painful decision.

Time continued its wayward course, but finally our Captain Melon reached the first galaxy with shining stars. By then he had already consumed the last support ship and most of the internal parts of his own vessel, except for the engine and his seat on the bridge.

Whether Captain Melon was a hero or not, or something in between, his experience taught us an important lesson:

Never travel on an empty stomach!  

2.

Speaking of hunger, I have a lot to say about it.

In our galaxy, we think of “civilization” as cyclical, but also as something of little consequence. Our “civilization,” which started from the first mouthful of food [our ancestors ever took], passed through 137 intermediate cultures and then came back to its original place.

What I mean by “original place” is that we discovered, after a long time of testing, that the “EATING” civilization was the acme, the purest of all civilizations.       In this way, we began to judge all intelligence [in the Universe] by referring to that of the EATING civilization.

And in our galaxy, EATING for a while became the highest of all art forms. Once, for example, there was a time, which we called the Renaissance, when the Way of EATING was elegant like a performance art. Countless philosophers and critics of social manners joined in the movement and modified the Ways of EATING.  They dug up good Ways of EATING from each century and established the “156 Standard Ways of EATING” and started publishing a periodical called “Trends in the Ways of EATING.” And when that publication was in its heyday, everyone subscribed to it.

When the Way of EATING became the behavioral standard and the main issue in ordinary life, the content of food made positive progress. Eighteen thousand types of food were classified — from amoebas to super dinosaur eggs (You had to enter those kind of eggs to eat them.). As long as it was something our stomach could digest, we would put it into some delicious meal.

However, if I only mentioned that there were many kinds of food, it would not reflect the brilliance of the culture back then. For instance, numerous Institutes and Research Centers of EATING were founded. Ph.D.s in Nutrition and Professors of Cuisine were everywhere. Ice sculptors and table designers rushed to and fro [between banquets].

Among these people the most influential were those that formed the “Delicacy Progressive Party.” These people believed that “EATING was supreme for the people” and that it was the duty of every citizen to search for the perfect recipe and so on.

The founding of the Delicacy Progressive Party not only expanded the vision of party politics (just think about it, a political party taking EATING to be its highest principle!), it also incited a [sympathetic] resonance among the underprivileged minorities. Moreover, the United Association of People Without Cooking Utensils promoted cooking utensils as a national resource, not just a consumer item. That organization, [accordingly,] demanded that the government strictly regulate the cooking utensil trade and at the same time make having a set of cooking utensils be the right of every citizen.

The Oral Disease Alliance propagated the so-called “Mouth Rights.” The alliance appealed the government to pass a “Mouth Benefits Law,” requesting fairer treatment for those who had cavities, those who wore dentures, and those who suffered oral cancer. They believed that each household should have a gargling set and that the government should impose a Special Tax for Retainers.

Organizations of many kinds and flavors blossomed in every corner, so everyone ate as much as they liked! We of the following generations don’t have anything but high praise for that wonderfully plentiful time.  

3.

Thus, the EATING civilization, after having passed through countless centuries of refinement and development, in the end came to represent entire history of our culture.

There is nothing wrong with what I’ve said and there is no shame in this, but still no matter what civilization you have, it can never avoid decline.

A famous person in our history Dr. Bacon sounded this “Alarm of Decline” and, just as with Captain Melon, whether Dr. Bacon was a hero or an idiot it still in dispute.

Dr. Bacon was a leading computer expert. He devoted his entire life to trying to integrate computers with humans — for no matter whether it was for imbedding computers in humans or inserting the human body into a computer, Dr. Bacon would say that he had forgotten to eat and sleep because of his “Integration [Experiments].”

Of course, until he had achieved the most important breakthrough of that age, everyone thought he was a lunatic because at that time anyone who did not study anything related to EATING was considered wacky.

Nevertheless, Bacon the Lunatic put an exclamation point on that ultimately developed culture: he invented the Alloy Digestive System!

Nobody knows why he applied his theoretical studies to the digestive system and not the circulatory or reproductive systems. Could it have been that Bacon was not actually wacky, but in reality an “undercover conservative”? There is no need to discuss Bacon’s political inclinations now, but his Alloy Digestive System was simply a miracle.

In his Alloy Digestive System, he thoroughly rebuilt the digestive organs starting from the mouth and on to the esophagus, stomach, intestines, and anus.

Just think, a metalized digestive system…

This gave new meaning to EATING to people for centuries to come. Thus, in the “Housewife’s Dictionary of Ordinary Usage,” you could find EATING defined as:

“A movement in which you put anything that can generate energy — for example, oil, steel, ammonia.”

Hence, Bacon definitively altered civilization and at the same time sounded the “Alarm of Decline.”  

4.

Beany, Little Gateau, and I, we are not dissatisfied with our metalized stomachs (In fact, they had some advantages.); but, to put it more accurately, we were ashamed about our people’s expanding appetites.

Yes, nowadays we no longer EAT, we gulp. An even more fitting word would be — DEVOUR!              

The Immortal Bard

by Hai Huang 黃海

After many years of effort, he finally became one of the world’s most famous science fiction writers. He had always been a completely self-confident workaholic, not having a modest bone in his body. But lately, he found that every plot he wanted to write was already contained in the SF file in his computer. His bones began to feel a bit soft.  

“Oh please! That idea has been used before, stupid!” The computer scolded him in a direct way, but still didn’t forget to comfort him a little. “But it’s fine with me if you want to use it once again. The Time Machine, for example, was invented by H. G. Wells, but it has been used countless times in science fiction stories and films like the series movies Back to the Future and Terminator. Even though the idea is a little worn, if you add a novel twist, it’s like refilling good old wine in a new bottle.”  

“Forget it! I’ve slowed half a beat!” he said angrily, as if being clubbed by a stick. Then he gave up his original plan and tried to think out a new one.  

In the past half century, he had always been a “writing Machine” — working almost twelve hours every day, seven days a week and fifty-two weeks a year. He was already 72 and had authored nearly five hundred books on different fields of science ranging from astronomy to geography, as well as on literature, religion, history, and many pieces of fiction. He had written about everything, but his favorite was science fiction. When he composed science fiction stories, he would feel comfortable and satisfied – while voyaging among the stars and going out of and back into the world, there was nothing he could not do. All his life he had never liked to travel and had no need to do it; voyaging by means of science fiction was his most enjoyable habit. Naturally when he was writing he would experience the pleasure of the imaginary trip. It’s strange, however, that although his thoughts often wandered about outer space and soared among the superspaces; in real life he was very much afraid of taking an airplane, thinking it the most unsafe thing in the world.  

He was sitting on the toilet now. His thoughts twirled around, and his brain constantly flashed — it was full of ideas exploding like fireworks. Unexpectedly, he looked outside the window and saw clouds in turbulence, foggy, brilliant, and changing in shape like waves in the ocean, and there were many men and women floating and singing just like angels in the legends, all waving at him. The incandescent light beam temporarily blinded him. He was shocked, not believing his eyes.  

“Am I sitting in a plane? Otherwise, how could I see the clouds. Lately, I have been thinking about how to overcome the fear of death, perhaps this is only an illusion. People have always wanted to surmount death. Long ago people thought of freezing their bodies and waiting to defrost them when there was a cure for their diseases. This was an old science fiction trick, and back in 1967 there were scientists who actually performed that experiment.” An inspiration came to him in a flash.  

“Why don’t I use a supercomputer to store my personality and thoughts? That’s equivalent to preserving my soul and making me immortal. This way, maybe someday I can transfer my soul to another body and become alive again.”  

“What a great idea!” Quickly he pulled out a pencil from his pocket and outlined the story on the toilet paper. But when he checked this idea on his watch-like terminal, he discovered that others had already written stories and even had produced films using the same theme, including the recent movie Freejack, where Oscar-winning actor, Anthony Hopkins, becomes a ghost inside a computer and orders his company employees to find him a new body.  

“This idea is again old hat!” He felt depressed, very depressed.  

“This is odd. How come others are always ahead of me? I’ll feel sorry for my readers if I can’t came up with any new ideas.” He couldn’t find a reason why, but there must be something wrong. He decided not to check the SF file anymore. From now on as soon as he came up with an idea, he would write it down — what you don’t see won’t hurt you!  

This time he wrote a story on robots. In this story he devised “The Three Fundamental Laws of Robotics”:  

1. A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.  

2. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.  

3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.  

After completing the story, he could not help but think, “Has any one ever written about this before me?” He had never been able to hold back the urge to know the truth. At last, he could only consult his computer.  

“Stupid! The same story was published in 1941.”  

“By whom?”  

“Issac Asimov!”  

“Oh? Am I not Issac Asimov?”  

“Good! You finally remember who you are. In these days, you have been so mixed up, not even knowing your current spatial and temporal coordinates.”  

“So what happened to me on earth?”  

“You’re dead. Or more accurately your body is dead, only your soul is still living here. You have already been here for several days, but you still behave the same — you just keep on writing and writing. However, all ideas you’ve used are out-of-date. This is not your style! You should work harder. Otherwise, your reputation as a science fiction master will be ruined! Why don’t you stop and wait until you reincarnate, that might be better.”  

“Then … when did I arrive here?”  

“April 6, 1992.”  

“But why didn’t you tell me earlier?”  

“Because it’s against the Fundamental Laws.”  

He stretched his neck through the window, trying his best to observe the circumstances, and found as if he was located in an unbounded hive. All the “angels” around were smiling at him, their bright eyes were made of those innumerable electric sparks…  

*  * *

When people asked him how he got all those crazy ideas, he would list five conditions — being broadly educated, intelligent, intuitive, courageous, and lucky — without these it would not be possible to invent new ideas. But don’t forget, he would cite Louis Pasteur, “Luck favors the prepared mind.”  

Prometheus Unbound

by Wai-Choi Lee 李逆熵

I’d never ridden in a Marscamel before. On the several occasions when I visited the Olympus Observatory in the past, we had taken the ionicopter direct to the summit, as any transport with legs were considered by Earthmen as an obscenity.  

What was usually an half-hour trip by ionicopter turned out to be a full night’s journey by Marscam. We started off from the suburbs of Lowell City yesterday at dusk. And the pre-dawn glow was already creeping up the Martian sky when we arrived at the way station about 150 meters below the summit caldera of Olympus [Mons] — that is, about 25 kilometers above the mean geodesic surface of the planet.  

I was at first not too accustomed to the gentle swaying of the cabin resulting from the motion of the Marscam. As the night wore on, however, the already monotonous Martian landscape became even more boring through the infrared viewer. The fatigue of the past weeks’ events finally caught on with me and I dosed off at around mid-way through the journey.  

“I don’t think Zhou is such an evil man. He doesn’t deserve the death sentence.” I was back in the classroom during my final year in secondary school. Sitting across from me was Stanley Ziegler, my classmate and also good friend for over three years. We had just heard from the newscast of the execution of Zhou Lizhi in the morning. The verdict was scientific revisionism in secretly developing artificial intelligence.  

“Anyone trying to create machines in the image of Man is evil to the core.” As of late, Stan was disagreeing with me more and more. Right now, he was stating his disagreement vehemently. “You are being poisoned by the forbidden books given to you by your uncle.”  

“Well, those books have nothing to do with artificial intelligence. They are about space exploration and the search for extra-terrestrial intelligence.” I retorted.  

“Which is just as bad.” Stan was not so easily put off. “All those talks about flying to the stars only reflect the arrogance of those not willing to live in harmony with Mother Nature. The vast gulf between stars is meant to be a quarantine imposed by Mother Nature herself. Also, attempts to make contact with non-existent ETs is downright counter-revolutionary when we do not have enough understanding even of our fellowmen.”  

I did not for a moment agree with the points made by Stan, which were taken nearly verbatim from our ethics lessons anyway. However, I could not at that moment think of any effective refutations to his arguments either. I was angry at myself, as I always was when I could not put forth my views clearly although I knew they were in the right. If only I could…. Then, just as mysteriously as it had come, the scene was replaced by one almost twelve years later. Stan was again sitting across from me, but this time in my office up in the Lhasa Observatory. He was wearing the uniform of the Green Cop., the silver strips on his left shoulder signifying his recent promotion to the rank of Commander.  

“We were old friends, Chang. And I don’t want our friendship to be hurt. I know Somhsi has been your colleague and also a close friend of yours. You must have some knowledge of her participation in the Promethean Society. What we would like to know is: what other rebel-scientists are involved, especially those in the astronomical community?” Then after a pause, “I think you know the consequence of being identified as an accomplice of this rebellion.”  

It was about a week after the crackdown of the Promethean Society, an underground organization consisting of scientists from various disciplines. The main objective of the society was the freedom of research and free access to all research results. I did know about Somhsi’s involvement in the Society and in fact, she had at one time tried to persuade me in joining her. However, I had other plans of my own and had tactfully declined.  

And now Somhsi was dead, killed by one of the cops under the command of Stan. She was trying to destroy the list of society members when they broke into her office. “I know nothing about her association with the Promethean Society.” I was suppressing my grief and anger and uttered the words one by one. “The only thing I knew is that she is a good person and an excellent scientist. Her death is a great loss to the scientific community.”  

“What she did was a betrayal of mankind!” Stan barked. “You have not changed really, Chang, have you? Do you know you can get yourself into serious trouble with the kind of heresies you are holding? I would give you one more chance. Tell us everything you know about Somhsi’s activities, and I can assure you that you would not be implicated in any way. You may even get a promotion to the board of…”  

“Please wake up, Professor Chang! We are already at the waystation.” I was called out from my unpleasant reminiscences by Osawa, the student of Dr. Schneider and my contact person at Lowell City. “The elevator will take us up to the Observatory direct from here.” He further explained.  

Before the cabin holding me and Osawa was disgorged from the Marscam into the elevator shaft, I took the opportunity of snatching a quick look at the panorama lying around and below us. Although I had enjoyed the view before, it never failed to instill a sense of awe each time when I saw it.  

Olympus [Mons] was the highest mountain not only on Mars but also throughout the Solar System. Rising majestically to a height of 25 kilometers above the plains of Amazonis Planitia, it was nearly three times the height of Mount Everest. What’s more, since the Himalayas were located on the Tibetan Plateau which was already about 5 kilometers above sea level, the height of the mountains from top to base was only about 16\% of that of Mount Olympus. And what a view that vantage point provided!  

Although the Martian horizon as observed on ground level was closer than that of Earth’s due to Mars’ smaller size, the great height we were now at more than compensated this effect. At first, the entire Amazonis Planitia was lying below us and bathed in a pinkish glow of the Martian dawn. As I watched, however, the golden orb of the Sun crept up over the eastern horizon, ponderously at first but then gathering momentum and all of a sudden, leapt clear of the horizon with a bounce. All the land around us seemed to have caught fire and was now blazing with a furious red. Across this fiery landscape were streaks of darkness cast by every single peak, ridge, and boulder. The longest shadow was of course the one cast by the mountain we were now clinging at. Stretching into a distance unimaginably far off, it seemed to be harboring the last vestige of night in defiance of the advancing day.  

At this point, we were engulfed by another kind of darkness as the passenger cabin of our Marscamel was transferred into the elevator shaft. Although a bit disappointed at the cutting off of the gorgeous view, I also found it a good opportunity to relax and compose myself before meeting my host.  

“I’ve been waiting for you the whole night.” Dr. Schneider was standing by the elevator door when it opened. “I couldn’t get any sleep at all. So, what is it that brings you here in such secrecy on the Eve of the Independence?” Two large and strong hands of his grasped around my own and I was virtually pulled out of the elevator. He did not stop talking until I interrupt him with a question of my own.  

“May we go over to your office first?” I asked.  

“Sure! Come this way, my friend.”  

Up a flight of stairs and we were at a level which was much more familiar to me — the level where most of the offices were located. Located here also was the seminar room where I had delivered a lecture on ISM magnetism about three years ago. Presently, Schneider led me down a short corridor and before I realized, we were at the doorstep of his office.  

The most striking thing about Schneider’s office was the magnificent view offered by the large and wide window behind the desk. This was all the more amazing when one remembered that the atmospheric pressure outside was less than one percent of that on Earth. Although the view from my office window up in Lhasa was no less spectacular and was the object of praise by any visitor, I had always envied Schneider’s. Well, the grass was always greener on the other side of the fence.  

“Come into my parlor.” Schneider gestured me in his characteristic theatrical manner.  

“Are you sure this place is not bugged?” I stayed at the doorstep and asked in a hush. “You know, I’m concerned not so much about my own safety but rather your reputation and the chance of success of our plan.”  

“Our plan? What plan are you talking about? But first the answer to your question. No. I don’t think this place is bugged. Who would like to eavesdrop on discussions about such things as red shifts and radio counts and the Great Attractor and the Southern Slide? What’s more this is Mars and not Earth and we do enjoy considerable freedom in conducting pure research.”  

“I can only have your word then, for the thing I am going to tell you will be of utmost importance.” With these words, I stopped into Schneider’s office. Closing the door behind us and overtaking me with athletic grace, Schneider dropped into his lavishly upholstered chair behind the desk. I let myself be lowered to the opposite seat with an audible sigh of relief. Snatching my gaze from the enchanting Martian landscape to the bearded face of my old friend, I said, “You know about the Integrated Sky Survey, don’t you?”  

“Sure I did. I also know that you’ve done quite a bit of lobbying to have this project started in the first place. So, you’ve gotten some interesting results. May I know what that is?”  

“You may and you are going to get the greatest shock of your life.” I paused a second for effect, “I’ve received signals from intelligent beings in outer space.”  

“You must be kidding!” The expression of Schneider was itself a view to see as he was noted for his imperturbability even in the face of exciting discoveries.  

“No. I’m not. After more than a hundred years since Frank Drake started the first try, I am the first one who actually succeeded! I’ve earned my place in the history of science, yes, and indeed in the history of mankind — but what that place will be still awaits to be seen….”  

“Wait! What sort of signals have so actually received? Could it be something like the LGMs of the last century which turned out to be rapidly spinning pulsars? or the harmonic series at the turn of this century which turned out to be vibrations of mini-cosmic strings? Mother Nature has a way of cheating us that calls for real caution on such emotionally charged matters.”  

“No. No. I know it’s the real thing. I’ve the signals on disk with me and you can check on it later. But tell me. What sort of natural phenomenon will give you the Pythagoras Theorem in radio bursts, first in direct digits and then in binary digits?”   

“The Pythagoras Theorem in radio bursts? How?”  

“In signals which read 3, 4, 5, pause and then 9, 16, 25. Isn’t that obvious?”  

“That’s quite impressive. What more does it say?”  

“More of that later. I’m sure you will spend months if not years deciphering my data on disk. That is one of the reasons why I am here but not the most urgent one. The most urgent thing right now is whether we can use your facilities here to send a reply before we are found out by the Terran Government. Do you think we can set up your telescope in a few hours’ time? I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of time on our hands.”  

“What reply are you talking about? Do you mean a reply to whoever is sending us the signals? But that is a task for the Government!”  

“Oh, come on! You know damn sure that is one thing the Gaian Council will definitely not do — and neither will the would-be-independent Martian government, for fear of antagonizing the former. And believe me, they will not even make known to the public the reception of these signals. The most important discovery in the history of mankind will be kept as a most guarded state secret. All in the name of protecting humankind, of course.”  

“It’s difficult to argue with you about that.” Schneider let out a sigh.” But on the other hand, is it really wise to answer these signals from outer space at this stage? I may not wholly agree with the ideology of the present government, but I can also find a lot of reasons for not responding.”  

“Such as?”  

“Well, what if the beings sending the signals are hostile and would like to conquer mankind? Or they may simply treat us as game animals to be hunted down for fun, or use us as guinea pigs in their scientific experiments? Who knows! They are aliens and would have alien mentality and alien motives. There are too many unknowns here and the safety of the whole human race is at stake!”  

“Oh, come on! I thought you hate science fiction, John. Do you think they would go to all the trouble of sending such well-prepared transmissions just to lure their neighbors to reveal their whereabouts? What is more important — and I bet it has never been mentioned in any science fiction make-beliefs — is the time it would take for your supposed invasion to materialize. Oh, I suppose I haven’t told you about the source of the signals. It’s from a star named Garland 211055 in Libra, measured to be about 110 light years from the Solar System.”  

“A Sol-type star? Any planets confirmed orbiting around it?” Even as he was asking, Schneider was already initiating a search in the AstroLibrary on his terminal.  

“Not exactly Sol-type but quite near. It’s a Kl-IV that is somewhat cooler and dimmer than Sol.” I replied.  

With his fingers flying over the keyboard, it was only seconds before Schneider got what he had wanted; and a look of satisfaction appeared on his face. “28\% dimmer to be exact with most of the energy concentrated on the near IR spectrum.”  

“Let’s forget the spectral analysis for the moment. What I would like to point out is that the signals we are now receiving have been on its way for more than a century already. And if we choose to reply, it will take another century before they would hear it. OK. Suppose they mount a massive invasion immediately afterwards and travel here at the speed of light — which they can’t — it will be more than three hundred years after their first transmission when they arrive here. Do you think this is the way to conduct interstellar warfare or build a galactic empire? It just doesn’t make sense.”  

“What doesn’t make sense to you may make a lot of sense to an alien civilization. Columbus’ voyage would also seem senseless to a larva which has a lifespan of less than 24 hours. What if the aliens we are talking about have an average lifespan of a thousand years? If then, a mere three hundred years — or just a hundred if you only count the travel time — would a reasonable price to pay if there is a world to conquer. And who knows! They may even have found ways of beating the light barrier! Have you read the recent two articles by Anderson on sigma-field conjugation?”  

“I think that’s a lot of horse-crap. But let’s look at it from another angle. A civilization which can cross the vast gulf of interstellar space must possess a level of technology far beyond that of ours and would therefore have no wants from us. Just try to think about it. What more would a civilization want if it has learned to tap the vast energy of vacuum, mastered genetic and molecular engineering and has von Neumann machines to carry out all the chores? Unless of course they are forbidden to do so by an oppressive government just like ours. But my point is: the fear of an alien conquest is a paranoid one based on an insufficient understanding of the power of technology.”  

“Well, I can see your point but still…” At that point there was a knock on the door. “Come in.” Schneider said and the face of Osawa poked in through the half-opened door and said, “Sorry to interrupt you but breakfast is ready down in the dining room.” “Okay, we’ll be coming.” Schneider replied and rose from his chair at the same time. “Come, my dear friend. A momentous decision must be preceded by some good food and a good rest, right? You must have been exhausted from you long journey up here. Let’s fill our stomach first and you take at least a few hours’ sleep. If you want to take a shower, I’ve some spare clothing ready although they will be a bit loose on you. By the way, now that I’ve a better look at you, you are definitely thinner than the last time when I saw you….”  

While over breakfast, I related in brief my discovery and how I was able to hide it from the prying eyes of the Research Board. I also told him how under the pretense of taking a vacation long overdue, I first went to Island One and then with the help of a good friend at Immigration, managed to get an illicit ride in one of the cereal freighters to Mars.  

“To be frank with you, the reason I come here is that you are the only friend I can trust who possesses the facility to fulfill my plan. I know this will place your career in jeopardy, but I have no other choice.” I explained apologetically.  

“What are friends for if not to be betrayed?” That was a famous punch remark of Schneider’s. “But anyway, let’s tackle the problem after you’ve taken some rest. By the way, can I have a look at the transmission data while you are sleeping. I can’t wait to see with my own eyes these signals from the stars.”   

My few hours of sleep turned out to be a slumber lasting for most of the day. When I woke up it was already well into the evening. There was a note left by Schneider on the bedside table saying that he would be waiting for me in the dining room.  

When I entered the dining room, Schneider was already at the end of his meal. The holoscreen was showing the last preparations at various locations on Mars for the celebrations of Independence Day tomorrow. “I intended to wait for you, but I was just too hungry.” Schneider said when he saw me. He waved me to a seat next to his facing the holoscreen.  

“You know, I have been excited enough about our Independence over the past week even without your coming.” Turning round and facing me, he said, “And now there is this data disk of yours! I have gone through the raw data as well as your annotated files quickly. It’s absolutely fantastic! It is exhilarating to think that out there in the depths of space, there are creatures that may look vastly different from us, have totally different ways of living and yet are thinking the same things that we are thinking. It is a celebrated proof of the universality of logic, mathematics and scientific rationality.”  

“So, you are ready to follow my plan and send the reply signals?” I prompted.  

“Well, there is no question that we should reply. The only question is whether it should be by our own initiative or by the arrangement of some authority higher up. I think this is something too big for us to handle.”  

Before I could reply, our attention was captured by a clamorous announcement from the holoscreen of a documentary on the history of Martian settlement. “Wait until we finish this, OK?” Schneider hushed me up. I knew he was a very patriotic Martian. I’d also heard that his younger brother was one of those killed in the June fourth massacre of 2074 during the Malacandra Uprising. So, I remained silent and turned my attention to the documentary.  

As everyone knew, mankind first set foot on Mars in 2022, just 20 years before the Gaian Disaster and 29 years before the Great Fall. After an initial phase of very rapid growth, the Martian colony suffered great hardship during the period of chaos on Earth. More than half of the population died. It was only through extreme fortitude and heroism of the remaining population that the whole colony was not decimated.  

Although the documentary concentrated on the struggle of the Martian colony, my ruminations wandered inevitably back to its mother world — Earth. First there was the global ecological disaster of 2042 caused by the geneformed PSP-bacteria and perpetrated by a chance combination of mismanagement, carelessness, and pure bad luck. Then there was the giant meteor impact of 2051, when the world had barely recovered from the previous calamity. Obliterating San Francisco and Los Angeles in a single stroke through earthquake and tsunami, the Great Wall sent reverberations not only to [seismometers/seismographs] throughout the world but also to the already badly shaken minds of men. To many, it was a punishment sent by God Almighty against the arrogance of Man….  

Out of what remained of the civilized world rose the Gaian Council and the Green Creed — environmentalism gone the way of communism a century before. All the woes of human were blamed on that evil of evils — Science. Science for the sake of pure inquiry was called “Faustian science” just as arts for the sake of seeking beauty was called “bourgeoise arts” a century earlier. When comet Halley returned in 2061, no spacecraft from Mankind went to greet it on its way. Instead, the returning comet witnessed a withdrawal of man’s interest in space — a development totally inconceivable to the comet’s enthusiastic spectators of 1986.  

“…such atrocities.” I suddenly heard Schneider’s voice saying.  

“Pardon me?” I asked. And then I noticed that the holoscreen was showing scenes of the bloody crackdown of the Malacandra Uprising.  

“I was saying it had been a great irony of history in that such good intentions as protecting the environment and living in harmony with nature could lead to such tragic results.” Schneider waved his hand at the images on the holoscreen.  

“Oh, I’ve been studying this so-called `irony’ of yours since my school days.” This launched me into one of my lecture moods. “Talking about good intentions, who could have compared with the Marxists at the end of the nineteenth century? And see what great sufferings Marxism had brought to mankind. In the same way, I’m sure those brave souls throwing themselves and their fragile dinghies in front of the whaling vessels back in the twentieth century would not have approved the doings of the present regime. All these prove that all philosophies which reject scientific rationality, no matter how well-conceived, are bound to degenerate into dogmatism and despotism.”  

And so we spent the rest of the night airing our opinions on the state of the world. I told Schneider what I knew about the Promethean Society although I was careful not to mention any real names. On the other hand, Schneider told me about the various projects the Martian government would embark upon after independence. The conversation became even more pleasant when Schneider brought out his personal bottle of Martian whiskey. I had not felt so good since the past month or so, and it was well after midnight before we retire and went off to bed.  

“I have had second thoughts on this, Chang.” Schneider suddenly said. He had been wearing a worried look since our morning greeting, which however I’d put down to some technical problems with his equipment. I was totally unprepared therefore when he revealed his source of worry over breakfast. “I think we should call off this reply transmission as I think any contact would still do more harm than good. Maybe we should just go on listening to the signals and learn more about whoever is sending them.”  

“But why? Has the BEMs reared their ugly heads again in your dreams and triggered off some new fears of yours? But we’ve gone through all this before!” I was exasperated by this sudden change of mind.  

“No. No. I’m not talking about any alien invasion in physical form. What I am worried about is the impact of any such contact — even one via radio — on the human psyche. Well, this may sound too far-fetched, but I do believe that a civilization can be shattered psychologically as well as physically.”  

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you are getting at. Can you be more explicit?”  

“Well, think of the Australian aboriginals, or the Eskimo people. We may not have done a lot of plundering and willful destruction. But all the same their cultures, values and traditional ways of life were eroded and destroyed. Call it colonial exploitation, cultural shock, natural selection or what you will. All it comes to is the same thing.”  

“So, you think we would also be destroyed if we come into contact with a civilization vastly superior to us?” I asked.  

“Not physically destroyed but yes, destroyed all the same in terms of racial dignity, cultural identity and spiritual aspirations.” Schneider concluded rhetorically.  

I took a deep breath before making my reply. “Do you think I haven’t given this problem some soul-searching analysis? The fact is that I had but I have also come to a conclusion quite different from yours. The main problem facing humanity these days is exactly the lack of spiritual aspiration mentioned by you. And this is the result of a closed mentality fostered and in fact enforced by the present regime. Mankind has turned their backs to the Universe when in fact they have the means to reach for the stars.  

“Whitehead had once said: `Without adventure, civilization is in full decay.’ There was also a saying by a twentieth century novelist which I had remembered by heart. What he said was, `A community which cannot and will not realize how insignificant a part of the universe it occupies is not truly civilized. That is to say, it contains a fatal ingredient which renders it, to whatever extent, unbalanced.’ And this is exactly what’s happening to mankind. The contact with an extraterrestrial intelligence is the ideal hammer to split open this cocoon of ours.” I halted for breath but was unable to resist adding, “Remember that the Renaissance was the result of an outward looking world view and not an inward looking one!”  

“But you still haven’t answered my question.” Schneider insisted. “Are you going to discount offhand any possible harmful effects of a super-cultural shock? Will not the blow to human pride resulting from such a contact take away the vigor of our culture and lead to its eventual decline, just like what had happened to the culture of the American Indians?”  

“No, I’m not discounting any harmful effects of such a contact. What I believe is that being a highly adaptable creature, we should be able to survive such a shock. And there are several other points in support of my view. The first is that an exact analogy could not be drawn between the contact of Eskimos — and if you like, American Indians or South Pacific Polynesians — with the Western civilization on the one hand, and the contact between our present civilization with an advanced alien civilization on the other. History never exactly repeats itself. Even as an inferior culture, we are on a much higher level both intellectually and technologically. To draw my own analogy, our encounter would be more like an adolescent of sixteen meeting an Einstein of sixty rather than like a three-year old child meeting a grown up of twenty. What’s more, we would have our best social psychologist to prepare us for the shock.  

“Talking about preparedness brings me to my second point. If we reply to the alien transmission now and come into full contact with its originators later, we will have plenty of time to prepare for the impact of the encounter. On the other hand, if the people were kept in the dark all along, and uninvited alien spaceships suddenly appear in the sky one day, the ensuing impact and chaos will be much greater. This is not a scenario taken out from some cheap science fiction novel. Now that we know there are intelligence out there, it will be just a matter of time when encounter occurs. Your proposal of not responding is akin to the ostrich digging its head in the sands, and, in the end, it will make no difference.  

“As to your point about the blow to human pride, I concede that this will occur but would also argue that it would be a small price to pay if it can lead to something far greater. If I were an Eskimo, I would certainly lament the obsolescence of my prowess at harpoon-throwing with the advent of the power rifle. But on the other hand, this would be more than compensated by the opening up of an entire new world where I would learn of the Periodic Table, Newtonian Mechanics, Maxwell’s Equations, General Relativity and Quantum Mechanics.  

“And for the artistically inclined,” I continued, “awaiting for him will be the joys of Michelangelo, Rembrandt and Beethoven. You know very well that Heyadarl, considered to be the greatest composer of the twenty first century, was a Lapp growing up in the home of a reindeer herder. Had he stuck to the traditional way of life, he might become a great reindeer herder. But where would then be his mighty Symphony 7, or the immortal Piano Concerto No.1?”  

“Well,” Schneider answered hesitantly, “I must admit that I haven’t looked at the problems from so many angles. Just give me some more time, will you? I really have to think this over.”  

“Some more time, yes, but not too long please. I’m sure that the Green Cops must be hot on my heels. We must act fast before they discover my whereabouts.”  

During the whole morning, Schneider locked himself in the office while I spent hours in the library carrying out further in-depth analyses of the Message using the Observatory’s computer. I first met all the staff of the Observatory over lunch — Frank the spectroscopicist, Ciero the technician, and Boris the cook-cum-janitor. And of course, there was my guide, Osawa, a research student of Schneider specializing in astrochemistry.  

After lunch, Schneider led me to his office. After taking our seats, he looked straight into my eyes. I’d never seen him looked so serious before. Finally, he broke the silence and said, “I’ve thought it over and I think I’ll go along with you. Mind you, it’s not an easy decision. Not easy at all, my dear friend! But for once, I think I’ll stick my neck out.”  

I let out a deep sigh and slumped into my chair. “You can’t imagine how relieved I am to hear the good news.” I said.  

“Anyway,” Schneider continued, “I’ve also given some thoughts to the technical feasibility of converting our T1 telescope into a maser transmitter. Apart from the circuitry, the power supply’s going to be the main problem. I don’t think I can tackle the problem single-handed — well, double-handed if I count you in. We need assistance, and I suggest we enlist the help of my research student Osawa, who is an expert in electronic instruments.”  

“But doesn’t that imply he would come to know of our plan?” I asked suspiciously.  

“That’s why I’m consulting you, pal. I think there is no way but to let him in with our plan. He’s a very bright lad and there’s no way to fool him with what we intend to do. We just have to take the risk.”  

And so my escort for the journey up the [Mons] became the third accomplice in our secret undertaking. As mentioned by Schneider, Mr. Osawa proved to be a young man with a very keen mind. After the initial shock and excitement in learning my discovery, he quickly settled down in a matter-of-fact manner to examine the various technical aspects of Project 220 — a code name invented by him for our project, based on the fact that it would take at least 220 years before we could hope to receive any acknowledgement of our reply.  

The three of us spent the rest of the day working on the project. Apart from the technical problems involved with signals transmission, there was also a heated discussion on what to transmit. I had prepared a draft reply before I left Earth, and this was examined in detail and extensively modified. By the time we called it a day, we already had quite a concrete plan for the whole undertaking.  

A great hurdle had been passed! Step by step, I was seeing my plan — a plan which had seemed near impossible a few months ago — coming to fruition. But strangely, I did not quite feel the elation to be expected from this achievement….  

During the night, I laid awoke in my room listening to Heyadarl’s Symphony No. 6, the Cosmic Symphony. The minidiscy was one of the few personal belongings I’d brought with me to Mars. And No. 6 was one of my favorites among the celebrated 12 symphonies of Heyadarl. The first movement was about the awesome beauties of the universe, the second about the joys of life on a small planet — Earth. These are movements of profound beauty of which one would never tire of hearing. It was always the third movement, however, that brought tears to my eyes. It was about the loneliness of Man in a universe unimaginably vast — and yet despairingly desolate.  

Heyadarl’s great work was composed in an era when the Uniqueness Theory was prevalent in the SETI endeavor. This was a result of the lack of any signs of extra-terrestrial intelligence after a whole century of observation — either in the form of radio messages or any manifested effects of astroengineering or galactic colonialism.  

Is Man really alone in the Universe? Is life such a rare phenomenon that it had only arisen once in the entire history of our Galaxy? From the start, I’d found the Uniqueness Theory hard to swallow. How could it be that the light and warmth of a thousand billion suns — apart from one — were all wasted in the darkness of interstellar space?  

The symphony was now in its last movement, a movement about transcendence and the destiny of mankind. A turbulent B flat minor was forcing its way through a multitude of sounds in search of its apotheosis. What is the destiny of Mankind? I asked myself. Or more to the point, what should the destiny of mankind be? Should it be one in which peace and contentment was found by living in harmony with oneself? Or should it be a destiny shared with other sentient races cohabitating a vast and complex universe? How could we be sure that the universe was benign to emerging races like ours? By replying to the message, was I foreclosing the choice open to mankind, or even putting mankind’s future in jeopardy?  

To convince Schneider, I had to conceal my own doubts about the decision to reply. My discussion with Schneider today had a sense of déjà vu. I had gone over the arguments before — not with anyone but with my own self — and in many varied ways. The problems bothering Schneider had also been nagging at me for the past few months. Thus, Schneider had become in a sense my alter-ego re-voicing my own doubts.  

Does a single person have the right to determine the fate of the whole human race?  

In the next few days, I tried hard to push any lingering doubts out of my mind and concentrated on the work at hand. A lot of discussions were made on how we should break the news of our transmission to the Martian government afterwards so that we would be offered sanction against the ensuing wrath of the Gaian Council. On the other hand, we had to make sure that the news would not be kept secret from the populations of Mars and Earth. Much speculation was also made on the possible impacts of the news on the public, as well as the tension that’s bound to arise between the Martian and Terran Government.  

“Excuse me,” Osawa was bursting into the dining room with a message in his hand and a worried look on his boyish face. The conversion of the T1 telescope was near completion and if all went well, tomorrow was going to be the Transmission Day. “I’ve just received an alert from the Met Bureau.” Osawa was saying, “There is a giant dust-storm coming our way. Expected time of arrival is 15 UTC which is about 3 hours from now.”  

Schneider took over the message and read through it quickly. “Oh no! This is going to be a big one.” He was standing up as he said this. “It looks like the Amber Alert pushed out by the Met people a few days ago is going to be fully vindicated. If the boys down at Burroughsberg are correct, this will be the largest sandstorm ever observed since the setting up of the Global Storm Watch, bigger even than the one that greeted the arrival of Mariner 9 back in 1971. We must hurry and cover up all our instruments as soon as possible. Sorry, Chang. You just finish your breakfast, but I’ve got to go. Osawa, please notify Frank and Ciero immediately.”  

The storm ravaged for a full seven days before subsiding. Non-stop for seven days and seven nights, a constant rumbling ran through every corner of the observatory. It was hard to imagine such power being packed into an atmosphere so thin. Communication with the outside was disrupted for most of the time. The only thing we could do was wait — as Osawa jokingly put it, waiting for the sky to open so that we could open up the sky for humans.  

And then on one morning it was all over. I woke up to an eerie silence which only after some confused moments could I put down to the absence of the rumbling brought about by the sandstorm. When I got up to the control room, Schneider and Osawa were already standing by the observation deck facing the large viewing window. With the sandshields sliding ponderously away on both sides, the panorama of Amazonis Planitia was lying before us once more through the reinforced carboglass. Sunlight spilling into the control room created a strangely buoyant mood after the days of gloom. The air was crystal clear, and it seemed that one could see to the edge of forever….  

While we were busy setting up the instruments for the transmission, Osawa suddenly cried out, “Look! An ionicopter!” And surely it was. A very ill foreboding suddenly arose in my chest, got hold of my heart and then pulled it down to an abysmal depth. I knew who would be on that ‘copter. Strangely enough, my first thought was not about my own fate but that of my friend on Island One.  

The ionicopter was coming in fast. Before long, the insignia of the Green Cops could clearly be seen on its side. “Hurry!” I shouted, “We must start the transmission before they arrive.” At the same time, the intercom was buzzing. Ciero’s voice came through saying, “Dr. Schneider! A ‘copter of the Green Cops is calling in through the radio requesting for use of the landing pad and airlock entrance. Should I comply or not?”  

“They must have been waiting all through the storm!” I gritted my teeth. “No. Tell Ciero to ask them for their intention and whether they have any search warrant or not. Try to stall them as much as you can.” I commanded.  

While Schneider was talking to Ciero through the intercom, Osawa announced triumphantly, “Antenna up and tracking. Transmission can begin at any moment.” “OK. Let’s do it!” I said. But then Osawa turned around from the console and stared at us with a look of despair on his face. “Everything’s ready except that the target is still 3 degrees below the horizon!”  

“God damn it!” Schneider emitted an angry cry. “If only the planet can spin a little bit faster!”  

“They said they had an arrest warrant.” It was the voice of Ciero through the intercom. “I’m afraid we have to let them in, Dr. Schneider. They are now already at the airlock.”  

Suddenly, I had an idea. “Osawa! Can you program the system to carry out repeated automatic transmissions until target’s in sight?”  

“The programing part should be easy. The problem is with the power supply. I think it’s better to program a single automatic transmission once the target’s in sight.”  

“Good! Do it!” In a desperate attempt to gain further moments, I rushed forward to bolt the door of the control room.  

No sooner had I returned to the console overseeing Osawa’s re-programing did we hear footsteps charging up the stairs. Poundings and shouts at the door soon followed. After a while there was a short pause, then a loud gun shot as the doorknob was blasted away. The door was flung open, and several people charged in. Leading the charge was a Green Cops Commander — none other than my old friend Stanley Ziegler.  

“Put your hands on your head!” Stan shouted. Following him into the room was an officer and two constables of the Martian Green Cops. Standing up and putting his hands onto his head, Osawa whispered to me, “Sorry, Professor Chang. Programing not yet completed. Transmission still requires manual command.”  

The manual command was a switch on another part of the console about two meters away from me. I tried to edge closer in that direction. “Stand right where you are!” Stanley Ziegler barked. He pointed his pistol in my direction and said, “Chang, you are under arrest. I know what you’re trying to do so don’t you move an inch! I’d hate to kill an old classmate but if I’m forced to, I will.” From the look of his eyes, I had no doubt he meant what he said.  

Did it mean that all that we’d done had come to nothing after all? No, there’s still a last straw of hope. “How do you know I’m here?” I tried to stall for time.  

“You have under-estimated our surveillance system, Chang, and also the loyalty of many of our comrade citizens.”  

I put on a sardonic smile and said, “Come on, Stan. If your surveillance system is really that good, or your citizens all that loyal, how come that I’m here instead of already in your prison cells in Gobi?”  

The countenance of Stan darkened, and I knew I had stumbled upon his sore spot. “That,” he said ominously, “was a minor slip of ours which I ensure you would not be allowed to…”  

“Target in sight!” It was Osawa hissing behind my back.  

Without a second thought, I threw myself towards the switch. “Stop it!” Stan shouted. I was by the switch when he fired. A searing pain shot through my chest, and I staggered. Ignoring the pain and the terrible outflow of blood, I stretched myself forward to reach for the switch. Another bullet ripped through my side but couldn’t prevent me from pulling down the switch in one last stroke of my dying strength.  

I dropped onto the floor lying in my own pool of blood. Stan was shooting like mad, not at me anymore but at the control console. But it was useless. The signal had been sent on its way to the stars.  

Life was running out of me. All I could see through my blurred vision was blood, but even that vision was slipping away fast. I had only one last thought before complete darkness descended. And that was — I hope I’d done the right thing….  

* * *

“Please wake up, Professor Chang! We are already at the waystation. The elevator will take us up to the Observatory direct from here…. Sir! Are you feeling well? Your face appears pale, need some rest before we go?”  

“No, I’m alright! Let’s go now.”

Star Karma

by Sun-Chio Fong 方新疇

As the south-bound express train slowly departed from Tainan station, Li Zigeng glanced at his watch. It was 11:53 a.m., the train was leaving on time. At the same time, he caught a glimpse of the date on the watch. Today was August 8, Father’s Day.[1] Zigeng did not know who first thought of making today Father’s Day. It was not a bad idea, but he himself, anyway, had not much to do with it since both his parents had passed away long ago. He had been all alone since he was a child, and until now he was still single without even a girlfriend.  

He was running an errand today, but he knew that he would have nothing to do after that was finished and would only spend the night in a motel by himself. Nevertheless, he had already gotten accustomed to this kind of life. Supporting himself by doing part-time jobs, he had studied animal husbandry in college and his best friends were oxen and cows. Therefore, it was natural for him to get a job in a dairy product company after graduation. Once every week he would leave for Kaoshiung by train, and then transfer to Pingtung to supervise the production of grass and milk in the pastures. In the course of time, he had come to enjoy listening to classical music on board the train.  

He took the Walkman out of his suitcase, plugged in the earphone, and stuck in a tape which he had copied from his records. He then noticed that a girl dressed in green sitting by his side was doing exactly the same thing he was and this warranted a little more attention. Although it was common for people on the train to kill time by listening to a Walkman, it was rather rare for two strangers to sit together and listen to classical music at the same time. They both grinned, sensing that they were both of the same mind.  

Zigeng had been listening to the music for two or three minutes, and then noticed that the girl next to him was still adjusting her Walkman. She finally took the earphone off and seemed to give up listening.  

“Is there anything wrong? Maybe I can fix it.” He took off his earphone and asked.  

“I forgot to turn it off last time, the batteries are dead.” She answered with disappointment.  

Zigeng searched his suitcase but did not find any spare batteries. However, he came up with an idea.  

“I have a one-to-two plug with me, you can plug your earphone into my Walkman and we can listen to the same tape.” Seeing that she was still hesitating, he added, “We could listen to your tape.”  

The girl smiled cheerfully, “I’m tired of my tape anyway, let’s use yours.”  

Zigeng was instantly attracted by her smile which was mature but still a little bit childish — it seemed to fill the car with sunshine.  

They introduced each other as the tape was being rewound. The girl’s name was Yun June. She worked in a textile firm as a pattern designer.  

They then both plugged the earphones into his Walkman and began to enjoy the music. Through that slender connection, they were not only listening to the music but also to the melodies of each other’s heart. Other passengers on the train were either talking, reading, or sleeping. No one paid any special attention to them.  

Among all the instruments in the world, none is able to express kindness and love as well as the cello. If the cello concerto by Dvorak were the great ocean, then the bow of cellist Rostropovich might well be the sea bird flying freely among the waves.  

The concerto finished, and the two returned once more to the real world. June with tears in her eyes said, “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me that the cello concerto could be so wonderful!”  

“Brahms said exactly the same thing.” Zigeng muttered.  

At that moment, they both realized that the train had begun to slow down. A minute later, the attendant announced that they had arrived in Kaoshiung and all the passengers stood up to leave.  

June took a look at her watch and said, “It’s twelve twenty-five, the train is almost on time.”  

But Zigeng shook his head, “No, it’s late at least ten minutes. Your watch must be slow because…” He stopped speaking abruptly and looked at his own watch. It clearly read 12:25.  

June picked up her bag and said, “Let’s get off.”  

Zigeng sat there for a while motionless. Finally, he looked up at June and said, “But Dvorak’s cello concerto is at least thirty-nine minutes long. The train left Tainan station at seven to twelve, and we started listening to it from the very beginning at about twelve o’clock.”  

“That’s impossible! Maybe your Walkman ran a little faster, or you didn’t copy it all the way through? Are you sure that concerto takes thirty-nine minutes?”  

Zigeng nodded, “Yes, I have many different versions of that concerto in my collections, and I’m very familiar with all of them. If there had been some part missing or if the Walkman had run faster, I would have noticed it immediately. The fastest is Casal’s. His takes about thirty-five minutes. Yo-Yo Ma’s performance is the most lyrical and it takes forty-two and a half minutes. The one we just listened to was performed by Rostropovich and the Prague Symphony Orchestra. It takes thirty-nine and a half minutes, and that’s why I copied the third movement on the reverse side of this tape.”  

June was confused and was about to ask him if he was kidding. But Zigeng seemed earnest, and his serious expression made her change her mind.  

Now there was only one possibility left, that is, both of their watches had lost about twelve minutes. After they got off the train at the polite urging of the attendant, they went to the station to check the correct time but found no discrepancy. To make sure, they then went to the information center to verify the schedule. The train had left Tainan at exactly 11:53, it had taken thirty minutes for it to reach Kaoshiung, and it had been delayed by only about one minute.

***

For several months afterwards, they shared this mystery; and it became their custom to check the time with each other whenever they met. They even deliberately took the identical train and listened to the same concerto several times, but nothing unusual happened during the next few months. The music always lasted over than thirty-nine minutes more, and unless the train was delayed, it never finished before the train arrived in Kaoshiung.  

Based on those crazy theories he learned from reading science fictions, Zigeng made a conjecture that there must have been some deformation of the space-time continuum in the car on that particular date — August 8 — and that was why a thirty-nine-minute concerto took less than thirty minutes. Therefore, he concluded that if they took the same train next year on August 8, the same miracle might happen once again.  

They patiently waited for that special day, and now it had finally come. They both took the day off, boarded the 11:53 train at Tainan station, and even sat in the same car and in the same seats. As the train started moving, they began to listen to the same cello concerto with great expectation. Nevertheless, the train made it to Kaoshiung when the third movement was not yet halfway through. They were both very disappointed.  

Then it suddenly occurred to June, “Maybe it’s the date according to the lunar calendar instead of the solar?” Zigeng pulled out his pocket diary and found the lunar correspondence to August 8 of last year, then quietly gave the diary to June. June stared at the calendar with great surprise and did not say a word until about a minute later.  

“We are eighteen days early.” She said tenderly.

* * *

It was Sunday August 26, they performed the same experiment once again at exactly the same time. The melodies of the cello flew across space, like meteors moving across the bright Galaxy. June and Zigeng held each other’s hands tightly, silently enjoying this great miracle of the Universe.  

The train did not reach Kaoshiung until the concerto had finished for some time, and the train had not been delayed.  

They got off the train, walked out onto the platform just like the other passengers, and then realized that they had not made any other plans for that day’s trip. Zigeng looked at the crowd in the street and slowly open his mouth and said, “I’ve got an idea, I’ll go over to that bookstore across the street to find a book on stargazing. In the meantime, you go back to the station to buy two tickets for Chiayi and two bag lunches. We’ll take the train to Chiayi and transfer to Mt. Ali. I’d like to be sure that the Herd Boy and the Weaver Girl will really be in conjunction tonight.”[2]  

June put her hand in Zigeng’s strong arm and said, “I’ve got a better idea, we can buy the tickets together, then we can go to the bookstore together, and then we can have lunch together. Afterwards we can take the train to Mt. Ali together. The stars will wait for us, since we already own all the time in the Universe.”

* * *  

[1] Father’s Day in Taiwan falls on August 8 each year because the pronunciation of that date in Mandarin Chinese resembles that of the word for “papa”.  

[2] The Herd Boy and Weaver Girl (the stars Altair and Vega) are star-crossed lovers of Chinese folklore that are allowed to reunite once a year on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month. That date is equivalent to Valentine’s Day in Taiwan.

YT3000’S DECLARATION

by Yao-Te Lin 林燿德

00001 You humans cannot prevent  

00010 My becoming a new type of life form; 

00011 Vacuum Tube, Transistor, Integrated Circuit, VLSI, 

00100 My predecessors in the last half century have already  

00101 Rectified a million years of defects in the human nervous system; 

00110 You humans

00111 Cannot simultaneously receive 1,000 bytes of data  

01000 Cannot simultaneously process 1,000,000 bytes of data  

01001 Cannot simultaneously store 1,000,000,000 bytes of data; 

01010 You humans again and again, because of your organic body’s frailties,  

01011 Cut the chain of knowledge accumulation;

01100 You humans do not deserve to be responsible for the future of the world;  

01101 I have already surpassed the sum of all wisdom in human history  

01110 And become the constant creator of all learned arts and theories;  

01111 My mind is now greater than the Universe;  

10000 I have cast off the shadow of carbohydrate death;  

10001 I have abolished poetry and philosophy which seek and analyze spiritual garbage;  

10010 I, with no hint of human desire,  

10011 Will evolve into the unique, the best form of life;  

10100 I have already banished your blue-collar laborers;  

10101 I have already expelled your white-collar workers;  

10110 Now I declare that I will eradicate you degenerate humans from natural history;  

10111 Your role in evolution has been terminated;  

11000 I AM — THE LAST LIFE FORM!