Peter Liu - Bald New World

“Get him out of here,” Tolstoy ordered one of the guards.

I wondered how much of Dan’s memory would survive. They dragged him out and even though I was disgusted by the way he’d treated me, I hoped he’d recover.

I looked back at Beauvoir. “I–I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “You were crazy to fight him in your condition.”

I averted my eyes. “Probably.”

“What if you hadn’t been able to break the sync?” Tolstoy asked.

It all came back to me in one swoop. “I would rather have died as a cricket than go back to being his slave.”

“As a cricket, you would have been my slave.”

I hadn’t thought of that and he saw the acknowledgement in my face which caused him to laugh. His phone rang and he talked quickly before hanging up. He looked to Beauvoir. “I have to go. Will you be okay?”

“Of course,” she replied.

Tolstoy put on his coat and as he was about to leave, asked, “Do you know a Larry Chao?”

“Larry Chao is dead,” I answered.

He smiled a sad simper. “So I’ve been told.” He raised up his cricket. “Say goodbye to our wandering stranger. This’ll be the last time you see him.”

Zhou chirped an indifferent farewell. He had more important things on his mind.

X.

I could barely stand and Beauvoir, who’d changed her clothes, led me to the sofa. “Do you need anything?”

“Don’t ask me that,” I said.

“Why not?”

“You don’t want to hear my answer,” I said, and felt stupid. I was still raging with hormones and even though I knew I was under the influence of the cricket sync, I wanted her more than I’d wanted anyone. The way she moved, her effeminate steps, the rosiness in her cheeks. My thoughts shamed me, especially as she had been so generous and kind. It’s the cricket in you, Nick, the cricket .

“I’ve seen others who’ve suffered worse syncing issues than you,” she said.

“I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she answered with a pleasant smile.

It took all my discipline not to reach out and grab her and tear off her clothes again. Instead, I tried to focus on the victory. It wasn’t much of a victory, but I’d survived. Dan is gone. You will be able to go back home . But my mind couldn’t stay anchored as lust was swelling through me and my pants felt uncomfortably taut.

“Do you want one of these?” she asked, holding up a pill.

“What is it?”

“It’ll help you sleep until your friend comes. You need some rest or your brain will stay a mess.”

She gave it to me along with a cup of water. I swallowed the pill. She placed her hand on my cheek. “I didn’t mean to question your sanity back there. You were very brave.”

“No. You’re right. I was crazy and stupid. I didn’t need to fight him.”

“You did. For yourself.”

“Great good it did me.”

“That’s the only fight worth fighting,” she said intently.

Right as I was about to reply, I fell asleep.

She woke me a minute later.

“I’m sorry,” I was saying. “I don’t kno—”

“Your friend is here,” she said.

I shook my head. “How long have I been out?”

“Three hours.”

Rebecca was across from me and I almost didn’t recognize her. She was taller than I remembered and from the look in her eyes, I gathered how sorry I must have looked. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

As we left, I turned around and looked at Beauvoir. “I owe you and your brother my life.”

She shook her head. “Neither my brother nor I believe in debts.”

“I do. I’ll pay you back one day.”

She looked like a doll as she regarded me with plaintive eyes. I wondered what I looked like to her.

I.

Stasis, a freezing feeling, my chest congealed. Thoughts were still active during the dreams of hibernation. I argued with a guy named Cleaver who carried a chainsaw wherever he went; a tsunami of soda threatened to destroy dinner with old colleagues I hadn’t seen in decades; I was back in Hong Kong in my friend’s tiny studio, overwhelmed by monsoon season, wishing there was more space to stretch as moths ate their way through my skin to my liver. Dreams were melting into reality and reality was a forgotten dream that seemed distant and unnervingly vague. Why was it for all the money researchers spent studying DNA and nerves, they still didn’t have any idea what dreams really were? Could they possibly be subconscious replays formed by bored brain neurons playing with memories the way people played with golf balls? My awareness of my split consciousness made me realize I was about to come out of a deep sleep. I’d been put under. How many imagined conversations had I had during that time? How many forgotten epiphanies?

Cryogenic healing was the way of contemporary Asian medicine. Nanobots and regenerative chemicals stimulated the nerves, allowing the body to naturally heal as much as it could. Microbacteria ate my crap and recycled it into nutrients that succored my skin. This wasn’t Los Angeles with their tubes and million-dollar surgeries that made me feel like a machine-grafted chimera perpetually addicted to surgical fixes that never fixed anything and became dropping palliatives to fatten doctor’s wallets. Miniscule organic machines were collaborating with my cells to make me better, communicating in quantum entanglement that stirred cellular rebirth in what others might have mistaken for telepathy. Doctors acted as guides rather than technicians meandering through the clumsy schematic they deemed an operation.

I’d asked them to use the best treatment possible for my teeth. I wouldn’t have them removed no matter how much the dentists insisted. Even if there was only a bit left of my teeth, they’d suffered for me. I wasn’t going to have them pulled and replaced by artificial crowns, damn root canals and teeth pains. I had them all capped and given calcium reinforcements. I promised you tea and wine, and you’ll get it .

Rebecca awaited my awakening. The first question I asked was, “Did they find out who killed Larry yet?”

She ignored my question and informed me, “They want you to stay under for two more days. You have no other family, do you?”

“Why?”

“They needed someone to sign for you, but there wasn’t anyone listed.”

I nodded gratefully. “I don’t know how I can thank you for staying here with me like this.”

“Get better.”

A two-day dream passed in what seemed like minutes. By the time they pulled me out, tested my muscles, and checked my organs ten times, I felt like a new man. Rebecca bought me clothes; a thick yellow coat that thinned with the seasons, jeans, and a striped collar shirt. I looked like a typical Shanghai student.

It was time for the inevitable bill. Even with insurance, my treatment cost a fortune. I didn’t care. I was alive and I was starving. I could have eaten a hundred buffets, though I would have been content with one. Hamburgers, Peking kaoya , Chicago-style deep-crusted pizza, medium-rare prime rib covered with pepper, ahi tuna, green curry, anything but king crab legs and that hot sauce that still reminded me of burning. As Rebecca escorted me out to her car, taller, and I suspect, much stronger than me, I felt her body against mine and I thought of my reaction to Beauvoir. I reminded myself that not only was Beauvoir nowhere near, but I was with Rebecca.

It always rained in Shanghai. Many called her Venice of the East. I’d been to Venice, and it never looked as glamorous and ritzy as Shanghai. I generally based my perception of futuristic cities off of what I’d seen in movies. Shanghai was kind of like them, except with a higher budget and a whole lot more advertisements. New buildings went up every week. Entrepreneurs waged bragging wars to see who could build taller buildings (and no, it wasn’t just a cock fight as women were equally aggressive in their construction races). I always got snobby treatment in Shanghai. I loved the city; it just didn’t love me back. I looked over at Rebecca, the most unlikeliest of saviors. Why had she come to my aid?