Peter Liu - Bald New World

“Me too. Especially sushi. I thought it was gross.”

“Same here,” Larry answered. “How’d you get over it?”

“Linda. She loved seafood and we ate it every chance we had.”

He waved his crab leg at me. “Mine was a girl named Venus.”

“You told me this one.”

Larry laughed. “Well I still don’t love sushi. I hear fish used to be fresh, but these days, all the farm-raised stuff tastes terrible raw.” He snapped apart some tough shells. “On the way here, some show host was talking about how the galaxy is getting bigger faster than they thought. And I wondered, what if the galaxy weren’t getting bigger, but we’re actually shrinking? I mean our entire planet, and we just didn’t know it.”

“I think it’d make for an interesting film.”

“You remember we were thinking about making a universe shot in 58 Random Deaths?” 58 Random Deaths and Unrequited Love was the first film Larry and I worked on. He wanted to make parallels between the death of galaxies and the death of random individuals.

“I still think we should have put it in.”

He nodded. “I can’t believe how many films we’ve made together. You know what all of them have in common?”

“We made them?”

“They all failed.”

“How do you define failure?” I asked.

“They failed to make back the money they cost and they failed to get critical acclaim,” Larry answered. He put his food down. “Do you ever wonder if maybe I don’t got what it takes to be a filmmaker? These days, it’s all about multiple choices, sexual encounters, and virtual scenarios. I loved films back when they were just on a screen and the director made the story and camera choices.”

“Some of our films did get critical acclaim,” I said, knowing Larry was his own harshest critic. “And even if they weren’t box office successes, at least you got to tell the stories you wanted to.”

“Yeah. Isn’t it ironic? Chao Toufa provides the hair for all the stars that are gonna show up at the GEAs (Global Entertainment Awards), but none of my films have even been up for a nomination. I mean, literally, we provide the wig for Jesus Christ.” He took sausages out of his gumbo, chewed on two shrimp. “Shinjee’s only 21 years old. You should have seen the way she acted. She was just a kid to me. I’m about to turn 40, man, and I’m trying to act like I’m 21.” He scratched his forehead, his temples taut with wrinkles. “Did I ever tell you my dad sent me to a high school in Sweden?”

“No.”

“I’d been kicked out of eight schools already. He wanted to teach me a lesson. He took away all my privileges and sent me to this poverty-stricken school without anything. It was a brutal six months man. Kids bullied me. I got my rib bones broken three times. I lived in this old apartment and the toilet used to break all the time. That was when I caught that rare strain of typhoid that nearly killed me. Before that, I used to be so picky about food. But then, my mouth got puffy with blood and all my shit was bloody and I was feverish for two weeks. I learned to appreciate even the cheapest food. The nurses finally got to me and saved my life. I tried to reach my dad, tried to reach anyone, but there was no way to get out. He would have left me there to die. I learned my lesson, man.”

“Without money, life can be pretty shitty?” I guessed.

He shook his head. “Don’t let others have any say where you go. That’s why I got sent to the army. My dad wanted to teach me another lesson.”

A part of me wondered what exactly had transpired between him and Shinjee.

“I’ve spent all this money and have nothing to show for it,” Larry continued. “My friends are secretly happy. They all pretend to support me, but deep down, they want me to fail. You know why? Because none of them followed their dreams and they’re stuck doing dreary business jobs they hate. Yeah, they’re rich, but they can’t even enjoy it because they always want more. They don’t even watch my movies. The other moviemakers want me to fail too. They think I’m just an upstart trying to buy my way in. Which is true to a certain extent, but I don’t care. They’re so snobby. How many millions did they spend going to film school instead of just getting out there and living life, you know? All of them kissed my ass when things were looking good but as soon as the critics turned on me, none of them returned my calls until they needed financing and then it was like, ‘Your films are brilliant.’”

“It’s not personal, man,” I answered. “You said yourself there was a Chinese general who lost 99 battles but won the hundredth one which was the one that counted.”

“How many generals lost everything because they didn’t know when to retreat?” he pondered. “Chao Toufa has been having lots of problems over the past year. Maybe I should be more involved here.”

“Did that girl hit you in the head or something?”

“Why?”

“Yesterday, you were saying you wanted to leave everything behind to Russ.”

He seemed puzzled. “Was that yesterday?”

I nodded.

He laughed. “Maybe I’m being a touch melodramatic. Beautiful women always do that to me. Let’s give it one more shot. This new film I was mentioning. It’ll be the biggest ever.”

“Can you give more details?”

“At first, I thought maybe I’d do a documentary about my family. Or maybe I’d make it into a film about a rich family with an idiot son who squandered everything. Would that be too cliché? I don’t want to be that idiot,” he said. “I’m starting to settle on one idea.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve always wanted to do an epic about the Baldification. Maybe call it Bald New World . Do a film about the people in it. It’ll be massive. I guarantee you. This’ll be the film that everyone notices.”

“No one’s figured out what exactly happened yet.”

“That’s what the businesses would like people to think,” Larry said. “What if I told you people like my father knew exactly what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well—”

Behind us, one of the factories exploded, blowing the plates off the table and knocking us both back. A second factory blew up, the fire blasting against our faces. My ears were ringing and the smoke made everything hazy. I heard a third boom but couldn’t tell where it was from. Sirens were ringing.

“Larry!” I called. “Larry! Are you all right?”

Larry got up, his face smeared with Cajun sauce. He looked at me, then at the factories. He wiped his face and ran to his car. I followed and saw him change into a white uniform that clung close to his body. It appeared plastic, a shiny post-modern sheen about it that made me think of a futuristic punk rocker.

“Does it look cool? It’s fire-resistant,” he said.

“We should get out of here,” I replied.

“There might still be people stuck in there. Get somewhere safe.”

Larry hopped back in his car and I jumped in the other side.

“I don’t have an extra suit,” he said.

“I’ll be careful.”

Both doors shut and he switched the car to manual control as we sped towards the factory.

“See how smooth it drives? She’s a thing of beauty. How is it Germans build the best cars in the world?”

The first factory to explode was still partially standing, though the conflagration had consumed most of it. The heat was scorching and the smoke was drowning the building in debris. The doors were sealed shut and several people were outside, wailing and crying. One of the women had heavy burns and her face was a sooty mask.

“Why are you all still here?” Larry demanded as he stuck his head out the window. “Get away from the fire!”