Feb 28, 2057, 1109 Hours (UTC +8)
Ladakh, India
Forward Operating Center — Ladakh, Zoji La War Memorial
The beta blockers in the pilot’s cocktail calmed the anxiety Chen Jiahao felt at disobeying a democratic order. It did not ease his heart, however, to hear Sister Yang ask him why he had disobeyed. In this singular instance things had turned out well. He had destroyed a MIRV before it deployed its reentry vehicles and saved tens of thousands of Chinese lives and millions of yuan in equipment. But doctrines like Two Thoughts One Action weren’t about individual acts but the iteration of actions across an entire civilization. The morality of his disobedience was to be judged in that light.
After the incident, the 21st TOCU squadron was recalled to the Forward Operating Base at the war memorial. The TOCUs were parked in hangars hastily carved into the mountain side and covered with adaptive-camouflage tarps. Rolling scaffolds awaited the pilots. The pilot’s cocktail cut off and in fifteen minutes, Jiahao would leap forward to a new present, one he had every reason to dread.
His consciousness began again amidst a cheering crowd of soldiers in the mess hall. What were they cheering about? His fellow pilots, sitting beside him at a table with a shot of baijiu in front of them, looked equally bewildered.
“Did we win the war?” Jiahao asked as a joke.
“No, but you saved a lot of lives today, Chen Jiahao. All of you did. There was an incoming missile and the three of you acted quickly and came to a democratic consensus to stop the missile,” Commander Li said, squeezing Jiahao’s shoulder.
Jiahao blushed with pride. Remembering nothing of it, he couldn’t help but feel humble. This was someone else’s achievement he was simply taking credit for. He looked at Little Hu who wore an expression of pride and envy at his uninjured teammates. Every pilot hungered for glory. Little Hu had had his turn.
“Now, a toast for our heroic pilots!” Commander Li said, raising his glass of baijiu to the air.
Even the enlisted men had been given a small saucer, though the officers had been poured more of the crystal-clear firewater. Sister Yang daintily sipped her glass to be polite but Jiahao, Xinyue, and Little Hu raised theirs high and tipped them back with a shout of, “jízhōng zhōnghuá wànsuì!” Long live Unified China. The only thing that soured the moment even a little was Jiahao’s lack of memory of his own deed. Such was the price of piloting a TOCU.
“Gimme another round,” Chen Xinyue said, motioning for one of the half-empty bottles of baijiu.
“Don’t let the little sister have any more, two shots is half her blood volume!” Little Hu said, snatching the nearest bottle from her.
“I can hold my liquor better than you, Little Hu! You have one shot and your cheeks turn red as the flag!” Xinyue shot back, grabbing the bottle from him and pouring herself another shot.
Little Hu thumped his chest. “That’s not the alcohol, that’s my overwhelming patriotism! My love for China rushes to my cheeks!”
“Little Hu, why does your love for China only show up when you drink?” Chen Jiahao said.
The room erupted in laughter at that, though Little Hu himself blushed and turned away. Jiahao hadn’t intended it as an insult, only playful banter.
“I’m joking, I’m joking. No one loves Unified China more than Little Hu!” Jiahao, now on a third glass poured for him by Sister Yang, threw his arm around Little Hu and the two of them started another round of, “jízhōng zhōnghuá wànsuì!”
By mid-afternoon, Jiahao was more hammered than he had ever been. His cheeks burned baijiu for fuel against the cold mountain air leaking in through seams in the sheet metal hallways. Everywhere he turned were pairs and trios of soldiers, officers and enlisted, patting him on the shoulder and congratulating him for stopping the missile. Jiahao had every right to be happy about it. But he couldn’t muster his full happiness without knowing what he had done.
He stumbled his way through the celebratory hallways, trying to find Commander Li so he could ask him what had happened. Before he found him, Jiahao felt a hand on his shoulder. It belonged to Little Hu.
“Can we talk, Jiahao?” Little Hu asked.
His face was as red as the national flag, just like Jiahao had joked about, but it wore a pained smile which could only be taken as a frown. Was his friend truly still jealous, he wondered? Jiahao motioned for him to follow and the two pilots pushed their way through the echoing metal hallways back to the pilots’ barracks where the party dimmed to a vibration along the metal walls.
“What is it, Little Hu?” Jiahao asked.
His friend’s eyes seemed desperate and wild as he grabbed Jiahao by the shoulders. “Earlier you said my love for China is only when I’m drunk…”
“O-Oh… but it was a joke, Little Hu. I said as much,” Jiahao replied, suddenly sensing something was wrong.
“I know that. I know…” Little Hu said, his mouth remaining open as though he had more to say, but when he didn’t he turned to pace around the room.
“They don’t know it was a joke, the general infantry,” Little Hu said. “Maybe some of the officers too. They think I’m an unreliable Taiwanese frog. Would I be here if I was though, eh? Would I be putting my life on the line piloting that fucking robot!?”
Jiahao motioned for his friend to be quiet. The barracks were hardly any more private than the hallways, even for the pilots.
Jiahao exhaled to dispel the awkwardness he felt. “I know you’re loyal to China, Little Hu. And I don’t think the others care, I think they’re just partying and you’re worrying too—”
“You don’t see how they look at me. You can’t see it, because you’re perfect. You’re the golden son from Beijing, as if President Wu was a chicken and he hatched you from his ass…”
The insult to President Wu sobered Little Hu up a little, making him realize his mouth was a dog darting away from its master.
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In a quieter voice, Little Hu said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you meant it as a joke, Chen Jiahao. But when I was growing up, jokes were used to hide insults. Or— or when my friends wanted to play soldiers and spies, I had to be an American spy because Taiwanese are foxy and cunning. They meant it as a compliment but it— really, I don’t care what the others think. I just want you to know I’m loyal to China. Through-and-through.”
Little Hu saluted Jiahao and abruptly turned back to the party to save them both from an awkward silence.
“I know you, Little Hu! I know you’re as brave and loyal as they come!” Jiahao called out to his friend as he left.
He was certain Little Hu heard him and he hoped his words made his friend feel better. It hurt Jiahao to think his joke had bothered his friend. When they had all become pilots, it was Jiahao who took Little Hu under his wing and sheltered him from suspicion and gossip. He’d only made the joke because he thought his friend knew he didn’t really believe such a thing.
This was something Jiahao did not like about being drunk. “Drunken words reveal the truth,” it was said, but when dark truths spilled out there arose an ominous feeling, made all the darker when drink had him in such high spirits. The darker parts of people hovered like ghosts and spoke through their mouths. Jiahao felt he truly had no dark truths, but because of this, others came to him with these things they could not say while sober and he became a receptacle, like an ocean receives rivers.
Jiahao stomped his feet and rubbed his hands to warm himself back up before [plunging back into the celebration. He stopped the first person he found and after humbly accepting their gratitude, Jiahao asked, “Do you know where Commander Li has gotten off to?”
“Commander Li? I think he went back to his office,” the soldier said.
As he drew closer to Commander Li’s office, the hallways grew sparser until he reached a bubble extending outward from the office door which commanded the respect of the other soldiers who kept clear of it. Somehow, Jiahao knew he was permitted to breach this bubble, though he could not have answered how. Jiahao rapped on the door with a knuckle and from inside heard a voice reply:
“It’s open.”
Commander Li’s office looked like the rest of the pre-fab operating center, with stark, utilitarian metal walls designed to be torn down and rebuilt as the frontline advanced. The Commander’s two nods to his status were an oak desk on which sat his combat information center complete with radio transmitter and neurolink cap to connect to his pilots, and a bookshelf. The bookshelf held a good number of books, mostly fiction, mostly western, as well as several bottles of American whiskey, which it was illegal both to own and import unless you shared some with your superiors.
Commander Li sat alone at his desk with an ice chisel, two rocks glasses and a large bottle of amber liquid with English letters and a picture of a turkey on the front. The rocks glasses were filled with chunks of ice condensate chipped off the metal wall. The Commander grinned at Chen Jiahao and motioned at the seat in front of him.
“I was wondering when you’d show up, Chen Jiahao. Have a seat.”
Something in Jiahao’s spine tingled and he felt as he had with Little Hu that he was about to hear some dark truth jarred loose by liquor. Nonetheless, he obeyed and sat. Without asking if his subordinate wanted any, Commander Li poured a healthy amount of the American whiskey for them both and screwed the top back on.
“Wild Turkey, it’s called,” Commander Li said as Jiahao inspected the glass. “Whiskey is one of the few things Americans can still make correctly besides guns, planes, and mediocre movies. I’ve tried the Japanese stuff and it’s too dainty. The Scots make good whiskey too, but it all tastes the same. Like gunpowder.”
Jiahao sipped it. Whiskey all tasted the same to him, but the bottle probably set the Commander back several thousand Yuan to smuggle in, so he felt he ought to compliment his taste.
“It’s good,” Jiahao said, swallowing. “Very good. Sweet, but spicy. I feel like it could come from Szechuan Province.”
The Commander swirled his, smelled it, and took a long sip before wiping his mouth. “That’s the rye on the mash bill you’re tasting. Gives the whiskey a spice to it.”
The two drank in reverent silence. When Jiahao’s glass was around half-empty, he set it on the desk and clasped his hands.
“Commander Li… I wanted to ask about the full story of what happened this morning.”
“Hmm? What do you mean? You stopped an Indian missile from pelting our frontline with warheads. That’s all there is to say,” Commander Li replied, smirking over the lip of his glass. A challenge to ask more.
“Is that all?” Jiahao asked. “I mean, is there any more to the story, Commander? There is something nagging at me, but the blackout from the pilot’s cocktail is preventing me from knowing what.”
“Finish your glass,” Commander Li said with a wave of his hand.
While Jiahao drank, the Commander walked around to his door and glanced down the hallway, making sure no one was there. Once he was satisfied, the Commander moved back behind his desk and propped his feet up on it.
“You really did stop a missile, Jiahao. That’s true. But you defied a democratic order to do so. Your fellow pilots, Yang Anming and Chen Xinyue, voted to treat the missile as a dud and send a lower amount of ordnance that might not have stopped it from releasing its warheads.Technically speaking, you committed insubordination,” Commander Li said.
Blood warmed by the alcohol congealed in Jiahao’s cheeks, turning ice cold. A chill crept down his spine like a ghost breathing on him. His face must have looked ridiculous because the Commander started laughing until his cheeks turned as red as Little Hu’s.
“Oh! Chen Jiahao you look ridiculous!” he said, causing the Commander to laugh even more at his own observation.
“I-I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand. Won’t I be court martialed for this? I am worried about what will happen to my family…”
Commander Li waved his hand dismissively and grabbed Chen Jiahao’s glass to refill it.
“Chen Jiahao, you learned about the tenets of Centralized Democracy when you were younger? Perhaps you learned about it on a more complex level at the university? Its theorists and philosophers? Its relative advantages over Liberal and Pan-Democracies?” Commander Li asked.
Jiahao nodded. “I’ve read both Xi and Stone’s works, sir. I would say I am more familiar than the average citizen about the values of Centralized Democracy, and about how the rule of consensus averages out across a civilization to counteract any single group’s incorrect solution.”
“If I opened a political science textbook I have no doubt that is the exact wording down to the character,” Commander Li said, clinking glasses with Jiahao. The pilot was too bewildered to raise his own glass, so the Commander swallowed on his behalf.
Suddenly switching to English, Commander Li sang, “Rye whiskey, rye whiskey, it’s whiskey I cry! If you don’t give me rye whiskey I surely will die!”
Having sung this line, he switched back to Mandarin. “What your textbooks told you is not true. Or perhaps I should say it’s only partially true. How a government is supposed to work and how it actually works are two different, yet interrelated things. Think about the Liberal Democracies. They claim to be the most free because one can do and say whatever they please, especially in the market. But your classes told you all about their hypocrisies, right?”
“That their emphasis on negative freedoms and equality between people obfuscates the inequality sublimated into the commodity form? That the freedom to choose masks the naked fact that a Liberal Democratic citizen has their choices pre-selected for them?” Jiahao replied, feeling as though he were taking an oral exam.
Commander Li laughed. “Again, like a textbook. I think it’s more direct to say if you neuter the government of its role someone steps in to take its place, and that person will wear the government’s clothes and do bad things claiming to be the government so that when their greedy, short-sighted plans turn rotten, it is this false “government” who takes the blame. And if you give people two puppets to choose from they will forever swap between them believing next time things will be fixed. Of course, your class must also have told you why Centralized Democracy is superior?”
Jiahao became possessed by the spirit of a Correct Answer:
“Centralized Democracy links the people directly with their government in concentric rings. It involves citizens at every level, top-to-bottom, bottom-to-top, giving and taking orders and abiding by whatever consensus is reached with their whole heart. Unlike Liberal Democracies which otherize their government, Centralized Democracy takes the government to be a great machine with the people as its engineer.”
“Good, good,” Commander Li said, swallowing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. “Spoken like a loyal soldier. Now, are you ready to hear how Centralized Democracy actually works?”