government.”
“More
democracy!” Eddie snorted. “You have to have
some
to have
more!”
“I’m afraid,” Lao Xu continued, his voice anxious, “that things will deteriorate. Please don’t put that in your report, Eddie.”
“Don’t worry, Lao Xu. That’s conjecture anyway.”
“Why?” Dad asked. “Forgive me, Lao Xu, but I guess it’s too complicated for me.”
“Ted, I’m afraid maybe the students will get more and more militant. You know how young people can be. The government will have to get more harsh, because if there are demonstrations when the premier arrives the government will lose face.” He ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair. “I think this editorial is a warning.”
I left the room to pack up my gear for my daily bike tour. It all seemed pretty strange to me, getting worried about a newspaper article.
One thing I thought about though as I said goodbye and left: If Lao Xu was a spy who reported on all three of us to the Party, why would he come to us and voice his fears? He was upset, I could tell that. Nobody is that good an actor. Was it all a trick? And if it was, what was the point?
Ever seen a million people before? All in one place, I mean? And on a hot sunny day? Well, I have. I saw them today in Tian An Men Square. It was a scary sight, I’ll tell you. And awesome. A million heads of black hair. Two million brown eyes.
When I left for school Chang An Avenue was more crowded than usual, but when I got back after lunch — I had a big hamburger at the Jian GuoHotel — the avenue was practically clogged.
I put together my pack of electronic goodies. I found Dad’s note in the usual place, on my desk. It said that according to the news on TV this morning, there were already fifty thousand students in the square protesting against yesterday’s editorial, the one that Lao Xu had been worried about. Apparently it made the student organizers angry to be called “elements of chaos”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Anyway, the note said that there were hundreds of thousands of citizens protesting in support of the students, who continued to call for democracy and to criticize corruption in the government. Dad’s note finished up.
And the amazing thing is, the Beijing TV station is allowed to broadcast this!
It took half an hour to get to the square — usually a ten minute walk, tops. I don’t know how to describe what I saw. Maybe I should have paid more attention in writing lessons last year, although I doubted that my teacher could have described what I was looking at either. I mean, it was
awesome!
The whole square was packed — students, women with baby carriages, men with kids on their shoulders, cops. Lots of cops, most of them just wandering around. A couple of people were still trying to fly kites in spite of the press of bodies. There were huge, long white banners with characters on them and all the sentences, which I couldn’t understand, ended with exclamation marks. Dozens of small blue and red tents had been set up as protection from the sun.People shouted over loud-hailers. A lot of the students wore white headbands with writing on them.
It was like a huge carnival where too many people showed up. The popsicle and ice cream vendors made a brave try at pushing their carts through the throng, yelling out, doing a great business. Balloons floated on the ends of tight strings.
The Monument to the People’s Heroes was still piled high with wreaths and bunches of wilted flowers. Mao’s mausoleum, to the south, seemed to float on a calm sea of bodies.
I started to feel a little claustrophobic and I wondered what would happen if this mammoth flood of people panicked or got mad and they all started to stampede in one direction. Not that the atmosphere was ugly. It was like a crowd on the way in to a ball game or a line up outside a show that everyone was hot to see. It was
electric
.
I knew Dad and Eddie were out there somewhere, trying to
“More
democracy!” Eddie snorted. “You have to have
some
to have
more!”
“I’m afraid,” Lao Xu continued, his voice anxious, “that things will deteriorate. Please don’t put that in your report, Eddie.”
“Don’t worry, Lao Xu. That’s conjecture anyway.”
“Why?” Dad asked. “Forgive me, Lao Xu, but I guess it’s too complicated for me.”
“Ted, I’m afraid maybe the students will get more and more militant. You know how young people can be. The government will have to get more harsh, because if there are demonstrations when the premier arrives the government will lose face.” He ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair. “I think this editorial is a warning.”
I left the room to pack up my gear for my daily bike tour. It all seemed pretty strange to me, getting worried about a newspaper article.
One thing I thought about though as I said goodbye and left: If Lao Xu was a spy who reported on all three of us to the Party, why would he come to us and voice his fears? He was upset, I could tell that. Nobody is that good an actor. Was it all a trick? And if it was, what was the point?
Ever seen a million people before? All in one place, I mean? And on a hot sunny day? Well, I have. I saw them today in Tian An Men Square. It was a scary sight, I’ll tell you. And awesome. A million heads of black hair. Two million brown eyes.
When I left for school Chang An Avenue was more crowded than usual, but when I got back after lunch — I had a big hamburger at the Jian GuoHotel — the avenue was practically clogged.
I put together my pack of electronic goodies. I found Dad’s note in the usual place, on my desk. It said that according to the news on TV this morning, there were already fifty thousand students in the square protesting against yesterday’s editorial, the one that Lao Xu had been worried about. Apparently it made the student organizers angry to be called “elements of chaos”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Anyway, the note said that there were hundreds of thousands of citizens protesting in support of the students, who continued to call for democracy and to criticize corruption in the government. Dad’s note finished up.
And the amazing thing is, the Beijing TV station is allowed to broadcast this!
It took half an hour to get to the square — usually a ten minute walk, tops. I don’t know how to describe what I saw. Maybe I should have paid more attention in writing lessons last year, although I doubted that my teacher could have described what I was looking at either. I mean, it was
awesome!
The whole square was packed — students, women with baby carriages, men with kids on their shoulders, cops. Lots of cops, most of them just wandering around. A couple of people were still trying to fly kites in spite of the press of bodies. There were huge, long white banners with characters on them and all the sentences, which I couldn’t understand, ended with exclamation marks. Dozens of small blue and red tents had been set up as protection from the sun.People shouted over loud-hailers. A lot of the students wore white headbands with writing on them.
It was like a huge carnival where too many people showed up. The popsicle and ice cream vendors made a brave try at pushing their carts through the throng, yelling out, doing a great business. Balloons floated on the ends of tight strings.
The Monument to the People’s Heroes was still piled high with wreaths and bunches of wilted flowers. Mao’s mausoleum, to the south, seemed to float on a calm sea of bodies.
I started to feel a little claustrophobic and I wondered what would happen if this mammoth flood of people panicked or got mad and they all started to stampede in one direction. Not that the atmosphere was ugly. It was like a crowd on the way in to a ball game or a line up outside a show that everyone was hot to see. It was
electric
.
I knew Dad and Eddie were out there somewhere, trying to
Similar Books
