Read Online Westlake, Donald E - Novel 51 by Humans (v1.1) - Free Book Online
Authors: Humans (v1.1)
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so both the
questions and the answers were already determined, were already in fact several
times in print. But that was all right; the essence of news, as the news gatherers see it, is the recording of simple
objective reality. This conversation is actually taking place, here and now,
verifiably, and is therefore much more newsworthy than any other previous conversation,
no matter how identical.
They went over the usual ground in
the usual order, Mortimer checking off questions already written into his
notepad, occasionally making an additional note, or underlining some part of
the question. The background of Li Kwan: Father a teacher, mother a doctor,
himself a quick student, already a university graduate, continuing his studies
in history and English, planning to enter the diplomatic corps. The arrival in China of the American president, Bush, leaving a
confused sense of opportunity lost. Then, soon after, the arrival of the Soviet
premier, Gorbachev, and the sense that opportunity must be taken now. The demonstrations in favor of
Gorbachev leading somehow naturally to the demonstrations against corruption and
privilege among the Chinese ruling elite, leading to the hunger strike, leading
to the upsurge of popular support.
“Looking back now,” Kwan said,
smiling faintly at his former naivete, cc what we did reminds me of
the American protestors of the nineteen sixties, who formed a circle around the
Pentagon, joined hands, and attempted to levitate the building with their
minds. They thought they would actually do it, you know, they expected to see
the building rise up from the ground. We thought
we would actually do it, too, and our conviction held the army back for more
than a week.”
Mortimer said, “Do you know a lot
about the United States ? Not history, I mean, but things like
levitating the Pentagon.”
“That is history.”
Mortimer smiled, indulging him.
‘Those people were silly,” he said. “You don’t mean to say that the students in Tiananmen Square were silly.”
“Of course I do,” Kwan insisted.
“Anyone who follows his aspirations beyond common sense, beyond the bounds of
reality, is silly. But we have to be silly, some of us have to be silly, if the
human race is to get anywhere.”
Mortimer was troubled by that. It
showed in his friendly face, but he didn’t pursue it. Instead, he went on to
the next question in his notebook. And the next. And the next. Through the
past, and into the future: “What do you think will happen in China now?”
“Change,” Kwan said. “Some for the
good, some for the bad. But always slow. The habit of the people, for
centuries, is to obey.”
“If the Hong Kong authorities get hold of you, they’ll send
you back. There’ll be a trial, a public trial. You’ll get to speak. Would that
be good for your cause, or bad?”
A strange question. Kwan said, “It
would be bad, of course, because then I would not be able to have any more
interviews like this. There are not many voices right now. We can’t afford to
lose any of them.”
“How about a public statement at
your trial? Wouldn’t that have an
impact?”
cc The trial would last
one day,” Kwan told him. “I would get to say very little. The second day, I
would be taken outside and told to kneel. A pistol would be put to the back of
my head, and I would be killed. The third day, the government would send my
family a bill for the bullet.”
Mortimer’s eyes widened at that. “A
bill? You’re kidding me.” “No, I’m not.”
“But why ? For God’s sakes...”
“That’s the family’s punishment,”
Kwan explained, “for having brought up a
questions and the answers were already determined, were already in fact several
times in print. But that was all right; the essence of news, as the news gatherers see it, is the recording of simple
objective reality. This conversation is actually taking place, here and now,
verifiably, and is therefore much more newsworthy than any other previous conversation,
no matter how identical.
They went over the usual ground in
the usual order, Mortimer checking off questions already written into his
notepad, occasionally making an additional note, or underlining some part of
the question. The background of Li Kwan: Father a teacher, mother a doctor,
himself a quick student, already a university graduate, continuing his studies
in history and English, planning to enter the diplomatic corps. The arrival in China of the American president, Bush, leaving a
confused sense of opportunity lost. Then, soon after, the arrival of the Soviet
premier, Gorbachev, and the sense that opportunity must be taken now. The demonstrations in favor of
Gorbachev leading somehow naturally to the demonstrations against corruption and
privilege among the Chinese ruling elite, leading to the hunger strike, leading
to the upsurge of popular support.
“Looking back now,” Kwan said,
smiling faintly at his former naivete, cc what we did reminds me of
the American protestors of the nineteen sixties, who formed a circle around the
Pentagon, joined hands, and attempted to levitate the building with their
minds. They thought they would actually do it, you know, they expected to see
the building rise up from the ground. We thought
we would actually do it, too, and our conviction held the army back for more
than a week.”
Mortimer said, “Do you know a lot
about the United States ? Not history, I mean, but things like
levitating the Pentagon.”
“That is history.”
Mortimer smiled, indulging him.
‘Those people were silly,” he said. “You don’t mean to say that the students in Tiananmen Square were silly.”
“Of course I do,” Kwan insisted.
“Anyone who follows his aspirations beyond common sense, beyond the bounds of
reality, is silly. But we have to be silly, some of us have to be silly, if the
human race is to get anywhere.”
Mortimer was troubled by that. It
showed in his friendly face, but he didn’t pursue it. Instead, he went on to
the next question in his notebook. And the next. And the next. Through the
past, and into the future: “What do you think will happen in China now?”
“Change,” Kwan said. “Some for the
good, some for the bad. But always slow. The habit of the people, for
centuries, is to obey.”
“If the Hong Kong authorities get hold of you, they’ll send
you back. There’ll be a trial, a public trial. You’ll get to speak. Would that
be good for your cause, or bad?”
A strange question. Kwan said, “It
would be bad, of course, because then I would not be able to have any more
interviews like this. There are not many voices right now. We can’t afford to
lose any of them.”
“How about a public statement at
your trial? Wouldn’t that have an
impact?”
cc The trial would last
one day,” Kwan told him. “I would get to say very little. The second day, I
would be taken outside and told to kneel. A pistol would be put to the back of
my head, and I would be killed. The third day, the government would send my
family a bill for the bullet.”
Mortimer’s eyes widened at that. “A
bill? You’re kidding me.” “No, I’m not.”
“But why ? For God’s sakes...”
“That’s the family’s punishment,”
Kwan explained, “for having brought up a
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