Ma Jian - Beijing Coma

‘I’m setting up a public-address system, so that we can have our own little broadcast station. We’ve raised enough money to buy an amplifier and some loudspeakers.’

‘Great! You must make sure you broadcast louder than the university’s station. This morning they were telling everyone to come out with flags and denounce the “troublemakers”.’

‘We won’t be able to drown them out. They have hundreds of loudspeakers, and lots of high-wattage amplifiers and transformers. We’ll have to make do with the electricity source in our dorm, which will power only four speakers at most.’

‘We can buy more equipment when we have more money. Make sure the receipts are made out to the Organising Committee, then I can sign them and reimburse you. The radio station will play a crucial role in our movement.’

‘Yes, it will help keep the students on our side.’ Ke Xi’s smugness was grating on me.

‘As a member of the supervisory office, I hope you’ll keep a close watch on the committee members, and make sure they stick to the guidelines.’ When Ke Xi took a drag from his cigarette, he looked like one of those dissolute youths who hang out in train stations.

I’d completely forgotten that I’d been appointed not only to the security office, but also the supervisory office, together with Wang Fei, Cao Ming and the creative writing student Zheng He.

Tian Yi agreed to accompany me to the electrical store. She packed the business cards and two rolls of film into her briefcase and said we could stop off at the printers on the way.

It was pouring with rain outside. We opened our umbrellas and walked out of the campus.

‘Ke Xi has got a “histrionic personality disorder”,’ I said, using a term I’d seen in Tian Yi’s lecture notes. ‘He always has to be the centre of attention.’

She pretended not to hear me. A-Mei used to ignore me like that too. When a minibus drove up I said, ‘Come on, let’s take it. I don’t want to have to fight for a seat.’ The fares of this privately run service were expensive, but I had three hundred yuan in donations in my pocket, so I decided we could afford this small luxury.

We squeezed inside and sat at the back. She wiped the raindrops from her face, then stroked my damp hair and said, ‘Are you disappointed you weren’t invited to the secret meeting?’

‘You mean the one in the Old Summer Palace where they set up the Beijing Students’ Federation, or the Provisional Federation of Beijing Universities as we’re supposed to call it? Liu Gang organised it.’

‘Yes, do you feel left out?’ she smiled.

‘I’m not the ambitious one. In the beginning, you were telling me not to get involved, but look at you now! Don’t you think you’re taking that little office of yours a bit too seriously?’

‘If I agree to do something, I’ll do it well. We mustn’t look like amateurs. If this movement is going to succeed, everyone must get involved. I can’t understand those students who’ve taken advantage of the boycott to go on holiday. I want to stay in Beijing and be a witness to history.’

‘Not all those students have gone on holiday. Sister Gao told me the Federation sent three hundred students to go and link up with the provincial universities and tell them what we’re up to.’ Liu Gang had persuaded Sister Gao to join the Beijing Students’ Federation, and had appointed her deputy chairwoman.

‘I’ve heard a rumour that half the members of the Federation have applied for passports,’ Tian Yi said. ‘They’re working to save the nation, while secretly making plans to leave it. They really are suffering from split-personality syndrome.’

‘Anyone who’s scored more than 600 in the TOEFL exam is bound to have made plans to go abroad. It’s not unpatriotic to own a passport, you know.’

‘They all want to run away to graduate school in America,’ she said, ignoring me. ‘They have no ideals.’

Her hand was resting on my lap. The numbers she’d written on it with a ballpoint pen had been smudged by the rain.

‘Didn’t we agree we’d both go abroad next year?’ I said. ‘Don’t change your mind now. I wouldn’t want to go alone.’ She’d previously hinted to me that she’d accompany me to America if I was offered a place at a university there.

‘I’ll have to think things through again. This student movement has changed everything.’

‘I never think things through. I just seem to go with the flow. If my cousin Kenneth hadn’t sent me that sponsor letter, I wouldn’t have taken the TOEFL exam. When this student movement took off, I thought I might as well get involved. It seemed the honourable thing to do. But I’m not fanatical. If it were to end tomorrow, I wouldn’t be disappointed.’

She turned her hand, pressing her palm against mine. It felt soft and cold.

‘I’ve heard that someone’s given the Chinese literature students a cheque for 40,000 yuan, but no bank will dare cash it,’ I said.

‘I don’t know about the money side of things. I can’t stand those economics students who run the accounts office. My psychology classmates aren’t much better. A few days ago, they were only interested in playing Mahjong. Now they’ve all tied red bandannas around their heads and joined the revolution! How can you trust people like that?’

‘Why did you encourage them to join the class boycott then?’ I asked, feeling she was being a little hard on them.

She ignored my question again, and said, ‘Which of the leaders do you think is most ambitious?’ She suddenly seemed less intelligent.

‘It’s hard to say. Han Dan’s supposed to take over the chairmanship of the Beijing Students’ Federation next week, but I doubt Ke Xi will let him.’ Liu Gang had decided that the Federation should have a new chairman every week, much to Ke Xi’s annoyance.

‘Ke Xi is deluded if he thinks he can stop Han Dan.’

‘Yes, Han Dan and Yang Tao are the only members of the Democracy Salon on the Organising Committee, but they’ve managed to form a small clique.’

‘I hate cliques,’ she said. ‘Your Pantheon Society has formed one too, hasn’t it?’

‘Well, you and I don’t have to get involved in the power struggles. We can just stick to doing the practical stuff. The news centre wants to set up a printing room. They’ve sent two students off to Xinhua News Agency’s printing works to see how it’s done. Shu Tong said that once we’ve got the computer system set up, we’ll be able to print off 40,000 leaflets in one night.’

The minibus filled with the smell of diesel fumes. We were stuck in a jam at an intersection. Cyclists weaved past us on both sides, ringing their bells. The rain had almost stopped.

‘I recorded a Voice of America programme from the radio last night. It was about the situation of Chinese intellectuals. Look!’ She handed me the transcript she’d made. The characters were graceful and fluid.

‘No wonder you didn’t come to see me last night,’ I said, putting my arm round her shoulder. ‘Once we’ve got the PA system working tonight, you can read this out to the students.’

She pushed my arm away and said, ‘Don’t touch me. I’ve got my period.’ There were beads of sweat on her forehead. Her breath smelt sour. ‘You must remind me to buy some more wax paper for the mimeograph machine. I’ll have to go to the wholesalers. The government has banned shops in the university district from stocking it.’ She blew away a few strands of hair that were dangling over her face and pulled up the collar of her red-andgrey striped jumper. ‘We’ll need to print off a lot of leaflets for the march on the 27th,’ she continued, her eyes red with fatigue. ‘At least enough to fill this minibus, I should think.’