Peter Liu - Bald New World

“What are you talking about?”

“A part of me wishes I could have lived up to my dad’s expectations. And a part of me repels from that idea. It looks like I got to either go my own way and give it all up, or fight for his dream and rebuild the factories. I feel I should apologize to you.”

“Why?”

“I’ve dragged you along in my dream. Don’t be too disappointed.”

“Why would I be disappointed?”

“There’s things about my family, about my past that — well, just don’t be disappointed.”

“Are you kidding, man? No matter what happens, it doesn’t change the fact that the last decade has been the best time of my life,” I said, and I meant it.

To my surprise, Larry appeared to tear up. “Kind of you to say that, man. I–I should get going.”

“Going where?”

“I gotta take care of some business.”

“Is it safe for you to go alone?”

“If whoever planned this wanted me, I’d already be dead.”

“But—”

“I have some stuff I got to take care of and honestly, I don’t know who to trust in there.”

“Let me come with you.”

“Not this time. I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I have some stuff I have to take care of on my own.”

“Lar—”

He stopped me. “Can you stop by my place later tonight? I’ll explain everything then.”

I saw the cold obstinacy in his eyes. “Yeah, of course. What should I tell Russ?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Don’t go back in there. Don’t take any calls from anyone until we talk later. I have to go now.” He was about to get into his new vehicle when he stopped. “Did you ever talk to Rebecca again?”

“She called me about the gift,” I replied. “I might see her when she’s visiting Shanghai.”

“Don’t argue with her, please.”

He got in and drove away.

IV.

I headed home and turned my phone off to all calls except from Larry. I kept on hearing the explosion in my head and my ears were still ringing. The water in my bath was set to a comfortable heat and I scrubbed the soot off my body. The soap wasn’t very effective and I made the water hotter to try to alleviate the soreness. Some of the black spots on my knees turned out to be bruises from the initial blast when it had flung us to the floor. Every time I took a sniff, my nostrils smelled of ash. What had Larry been talking about? What skeletons was he hiding?

There had always been some high-ranking officer to tell me what to do with the footage in the past. Even on our shoots, Larry told me what he was aiming for. Now, the film was rudderless and I didn’t know where to point the camera.

The news stations were covering the factory explosions from a bird’s-eye view. Investigators still hadn’t uncovered anything (at least they hadn’t announced anything publicly). The memory of the explosion suddenly provoked the smell of burnt gumbo and Cajun sauce. It was disgusting. I turned off the news after the focus turned to the garbage epidemic in the Western nations and the images of the mountains of radioactive trash no one knew what to do with.

I tried taking a look at the digital photos from the photo shoot but felt an unexpected dread. The prospect of touching up all the pictures and adding post effects to make the models more beautiful seemed burdensome. Why was I always working so hard to make people more beautiful than they really were? When images of Magus popped up, pretentiously happy with two other women, I shut off the computer.

Linda always knew the right thing to say in moments like this. She didn’t even need to say anything. Just having her by my side could calm my nerves. Now, I didn’t have anyone I could talk to. I never thought I’d long for the hospital lobby and their holographic advertisements. Moments of weakness like this stirred the flesh in me. I flipped to a channel I knew I shouldn’t, turning on the holographic cameras.

“Need a friend?” an attractive Asian woman asked. A second for the memory to upload. “Oh it’s you, Nick. Are you ready to do more than a preview? We have everything here for reasonable rates and we even have specials, direct interfacing at—”

I shut it off. These virtual girl addictions were a disease and I knew I shouldn’t be drawn in. I had friends who had given up their marriages for computerized companions. No matter how bad the isolation felt, I couldn’t replace it with artificial affection. Who could have guessed advances in technology would make prostitution obsolete and endanger so many relationships?

I went back into the shower for an extra scrubbing. I turned the water super hot. It pounded my head like burning rain. But it still couldn’t wipe away the memory of fire.

V.

It was late when I got to Larry’s penthouse. His place was on the top floor of a high-rise located within the second ring of Beijing. I knocked but the door was open. “Larry?” I called. “Larry.” I entered as he often left the door unlocked. Took my shoes off knowing how much he hated shoes inside. There were posters from all of his movies, various props including model spaceships and alien costumes lining the living room. A gallery of mannequins that looked human were on display, adorned in erotic outfits. Larry was sitting naked on his sofa, watching one of our old films. “Can you explain what you were talking about earlier?” I asked, but he didn’t answer me.

There was the tattoo of a big frog right above his belly which he’d gotten after his mother said that was her birth dream. It was colored sapphire and there was a Mandarin character for frog , though one of the lines was misspelled. There were beer cans to either side of him and I was about to grab one when I saw his face, mouth agape, bloody holes perforating his neck and legs. They were tiny and looked too small to be knife wounds or bullet holes. It was as though he’d been needled to death. But by what? He was pallid and resembled an FX mask we’d made of him. Only, I saw the veins within and there was a level of muscle detail there we’d never put in a fake. My legs wobbled and my arms shook. Larry, you idiot. Why did I let you go alone? Random memories sprang to mind; chasing a pair of religious girls and running away from their religious co-believers when they found out what we were after; playing strip poker with strangers in the snow; the nights he took me out drinking after my divorce because I was so depressed.

I remembered him explaining, “I make movies so I can try to change fate. Doesn’t work very well though. Anyone who isn’t a fatalist doesn’t get the joke.”

“What joke?”

“That God created death as a joke on humanity for feeling so self-important.”

“Isn’t a joke supposed to be funny?” I asked.

He mused on it. “One day, I’ll tell you the answer. Promise me you’ll laugh?”

I shook his hand playfully then.

And now, here was the joke. Only, it wasn’t funny and I couldn’t laugh.

It appeared his body had been dragged here because there was very little blood on the sofa. But from where? That was when I heard a scuffling sound. Looking over to the side, I saw Shinjee with four big North Korean goons.

“You-you did this!” I shouted, then charged straight at her.

Two of the thugs tried to impede me, but I punched one in the face and kicked the other in the groin. I grabbed Shinjee by the hair, but another thug bear-hugged me from behind and choked me. “I’ll kill you all!” I threatened. “I can’t believe he trusted you!”

“You think I did this?” Shinjee asked, outraged. She reeked of perfume and false indignation. “I found him like this!”

“Sure you did!” I yelled, trying to get the big guy off me.