----------------------------------------- [u][b]Early August: Beijing, China[/b][/u] ----------------------------------------- Yaqob woke up to the sound of soft knocking on the other side of the wall. He was sprawled out, sheets wrapped around his naked torso, a book laying open on the edge of the bed. [i]Wen Chu Ming and the Manchurian Campaign[/i]. He swung himself up and grabbed the stiff fabric hardcover, smoothing out its rumpled pages, feeling ashamed as if he'd been caught doing he shouldn't. Hou himself had gifted him this book. He closed it, making sure the pages went flat, and placed it on a nearby shelf. The shelf, and indeed most of his furniture, was of near-black ebony wood. Everything in the house had a dark hue, its colors black and dark crimson, grey stone peaking out in places. It soaked up the light like a dungeon and made him itch to go outside. There was the knocking again. He hopped out of bed, his skin goose-pimpled in the cold air as he found a robe and threw it on. The sound again, tap tap bump. It wasn't at his door. He thought of his older sister Taytu, shot by evil men in America. Though she'd survived and was recovering in Spain, the thought of danger was no longer as far from his mind as it used to be. What should he do? Yell out? That felt foolish. The sound was too gentle for him to be scared of it. He slowly pushed the door open. It was a woman. Not one of the Ethiopians working in the embassy, but a Chinese woman. She looked young, perhaps his age, wearing a conservative baby-blue dress. She was turned away, bent over slightly, doing something he could not see. He pushed the door open just a crack more and saw she was dusting the seat of a chair. Well, she couldn't be that dangerous. He opened the door to greet her, but stopped when she jumped. Her face turned red and she bowed. "So sorry." she said over and over again, holding her bow at a wobbly angle "I am sorry. I am. Accept my apologies." "You're fine." Yaqob said, "Stand up please." She did as requested, but she did not look at ease. Her eyes darted away from his as if she was desperately hoping to get back to work. "Who are you?" he asked. "I am Shun." she said, "The congressman hired me for you. As a gift." "The congressman?" "Their excellencies are... they are outside." she said. "They?" before she could answer, Yaqob waved his hand. "I'll go out there. One moment." He went back in his room, quickly bathed himself with a sponge and a basin of water, and put on a tight-collared mandarin suit. He did not disturb the young woman as he passed through the drafty house and outside. The sunlight felt harsh on his eyes, and the wet morning air was heating up, promising a humid day. Ambassador Akale Tebebe sat in a gold-gilded kaftan robe. Across from him was a middle aged Chinese man in a mandarin suit, looking to Yaqob like all other middle aged Chinese men. His hair, so black it looked somewhat blue, receded and left behind a long forehead "Prince! This is Congressman Deng Zhong-shan." The congressman bowed in his seat. Yaqob smiled politely and took a chair. A servant - one of the familiar Ethiopians - served him tea. "It is an honor to meet you of course. A real life prince! We no longer have such things in China. It is a privilege to meet one." "Thank you." Yaqob said, "Of course, your country no longer needs such things." "We have disposed of the tradition. Our royalty failed their duty. It was a necessary change for us. I am pleased to know Ethiopia's royal family has not failed." Yaqob replied with a slight nod. Akale jumped in. "Mr Zhong-shan is part of the financial faction. He has connections who are interested in the development of Ethiopia." "There's a financial faction?" Yaqob said, failing to veil his disappointment. Neither the world 'Financial' nor the word 'Faction' had a place in the Houist future he imagined. Mr Zhong-Shan smiled. "Yes. Well, it's hard to avoid. We have to interact with the world, it's not like we can avoid that. And if our economy is going to understand the economies of our partners, well, our finances must be clearly defined. Dependable. Your country seeks loans, correct?" "Yes." Yaqob said. He didn't know much about that, but he wanted to look confident in front of the [i]ferengi[/i] stranger. "Then we need financial policy." "I understand that, but why is it a faction?" "Well, I am a member of the committee, but the chairman of the committee is part of the Old Guard. We don't necessarily agree on all things. Much of what happens in finances appears to be bourgeoisie to the Old Guard." "The Old Guard? You disagree with the revolutionaries?" Mr Zhong-shan had thus-far been calm, even playful. Now he seemed rattled. His skin went blotchy as if his body were trying to hide a blush. "In small things only. Yes. Yes. This is allowed. Think of it. If we could only agree with the Old Guard in all things, why not make Hou an Emperor? Hou would not want this. Rule by the people means there will be some disagreements." "Of course." Akale spoke. He looked directly at Zhong-Shan. "We are strangers in a strange land. Much of your world is new to us." "Of course." Zhong-shan composed himself. "Yes, yes. Of course." "So Jiang Fu will be expecting us tomorrow evening?" Akale said. "He would be honored." Zhong-shan replied. "Jiang who?" Yaqob asked. "Jiang Fu." Akale said, "He is the man who oversaw the construction of the rail-line to..." "Urumqi" Zhong-shan said. "Urumqi." Akale repeated. "He might take an interest in helping us develop rails in Ethiopia, so I am told." "It is true." Zhong-shan confirmed. "Okay, but he just took an interest today? This is such short notice!" "He sent invitations two weeks ago." Akale said, "I assumed you'd be interested." "But what if I had something to do?" Yaqob protested. "Well. Do you?" Akale asked simply. Yaqob paused. "Well. No. Okay. We will go to this man's house." "Very good." Zhong-shan smiled. -- Jiang Fu was not a neighbor. After breakfast, they rode in Zhong-Shan's car eastward out of the city, toward Tianjin and the sea. The drive from Beijing to Tianjin took them past the hutongs of inner-Beijing and into the modern suburbs. Past that were waving fields of grain until they reached Tianjin. It was an odd city, its look essentially Chinese on the surface, but built over the remains of European buildings like a first coat of new paint over an old color. They slowed down as they entered the port along the river. It was not a thin snaking river like those so common in East Africa. It was big, slow moving and wide like the Nile. "We could take the ferry of course." Zhong-shan said, "But there is no need to cram in with so many people when I own a boat." The port along the Hai river was split into sections. They were far down from the commercial section where big barges shimmered near the horizon in the mid-morning humidity. They passed by a disorderly area of tightly packed docks where wooden single-sail vessels seemed almost stacked one atop another. From here fishing boats with ribbed sails entered onto the river like bees leaving their hive. As they went further along, Yaqob saw bigger vessels. Only slightly bigger, but their section was more orderly. They turned off of the road skirting along the dike and went down to the rivers edge, parking on a fresh cement tarmac. Zhong-shan's boat was the [i]Shùncóng Nǚrén[/i], a single-sail junk with ribbed sails. The sides of the boat were painted yellow. "I've never been on a ship before." Akale said, smiling, shielding his eyes from the sun. The sailors all seemed to be friends of Zhong-shan. When the congressmen introduced a few, it turned out they were distant relatives. The scene was perfectly picturesque, young sailors going happily about their work, the city caught in the process of modernization staring down benevolently on a river busy with activity. The breeze near the water was cool and pleasant, and it gently pressed on the sails as they entered the river traffic and went for the Bohai sea. It was slow going down the river. Yaqob watched the city give way to farmland, the farmland give way to tide-water, and tide-water to the open sea. To the east was nothing but water. They spent the entire day on that boat. Akale did not like it, and threw up several times an hour over the side. It got so that he was only heaving. But despite Akale's sickness, the boat was designed for comfort. They had a full meal of steamed dumplings and fresh fish. The sailors talked very fast, of people he did not know, places he never heard of. The air smelled like salt and fish. The boat creaked and the sea sloshed. With the sun setting, the air was cooling down. Yaqob looked east at the thin light on the horizon, wondering how much of that light was the fleeing sun and how much was the great cities of China. The talk among the sailors turned to war. Yaqob's attention snapped back into the boat. "There was a skirmish on the Onon river. The Siberians still fight like the Mongols." "I heard they are hairy naked men and they ride into battle with guns they made out of scrap metal." "Well that is ridiculous, but I know they still ride horses." "That war will not last long unless the Japanese are involved. If the Japanese join the war, then it will be a great war." "We will drive them to the sea again. And I do not worry about the Russians." "My betrothed's brother is in the coast guard. He said that dead European bodies wash up on the shores of Korea with signs of weird diseases. They are told not to touch them. He said they sailed past an island of floating burnt bodies, held together by melted fat like a ghost raft. They gave it a wide berth." "I will go to Russia if I have to. It is my duty to the revolution. But I don't want to go. I think it is too wild of a place." "I don't see the point. How can you build communism if you can't built anything better than a log cabin?" "To liberate them from the horsemen." "To liberate them from the Japanese." "I heard the Russian women grow hair in all the same places the men do." "That is not good! The men grow hair in all their places!" The conversation went on to women they knew, and Yaqob's mind began to wander again. When it was time, they all went into the cabin to sleep. Dawn came. For breakfast they had leftovers of the last-night's dinner. They sailed for most of the day, the sea endless. Akale seemed better now. Yaqob was getting bored of the sea, and he wished he'd brought a book. His afro was damp from ocean spray. Mid-day, with the sun shining directly above them in a cloudless sky, they spotted land. Yaqob watched as the thin green line slowly populated mountains and beaches. When they came close to the shore, they began to follow it, close enough that the occasional building could be seen. A tower appeared to rise from the top of one tree-covered mountain. The scene was tropical in Yaqob's mind. This was not the tropics it was true, but it was lush and lively, nothing like Ethiopia's searing desert coastal cities. They came around a bend. At first it looked to Yaqob like the mouth of a river guarded by smooth bluffs, but soon he realized it was a harbor. The tower, which had dropped behind the hills, reappeared watching over a port city. Zhong-shan smiled brightly at Yaqob and pointed at the tower. "That is White Jade Tower. The Japanese built that to honor their dead when they took this city from Russia." "This city used to be Russian?" "Oh yes. They used to call this place Port Arthur. We call it Lushun." A car was waiting for them when they docked. Yaqob could see the Russian flavor of the city. It's public buildings echoed the stark eastern-European style of Slavic kremlins, the specters of castles in their churches and public halls. The city was nestled along the harbor, beneath gently-rising mountains. Everything was alive and green with trees. They left the city and drove up a narrow cement road into the overlooking hills. Something like a mirror caught the glint of the sun on the top of a hill in front of them. Zhong-shan pointed up at the shining point. "There it is." he said, "Our destination." The house stood atop a wooded rise, glimmering in the sun. It was glass. Not entirely glass, but dominated by massive windows taking up entire walls, looking like a modernistic Buddhist temple with slanted roofs and earthy woodwork, the glass reflecting the setting sun. "I warn you, do not take offense. Jiang Fu is very good at starting to talk, but he is very bad at stopping." Zhong-shan said. "It is okay. I hope he has something interesting to say." Yaqob replied. They stopped in a gravel drive. There was enough shade beneath the trees that they could see through the windows, but Yaqob tried not to, afraid of being rude. They walked up to the door where they were greeted by a servant woman dressed in all white. Upon entering, the wooden floor creaked, and the servant led them into another room. It was sparsely furnished, only tables and wooden chairs, but the walls were absolutely covered, mostly in maps. On one wall hung a massive fur blanket. Yaqob approached it and petted it like a cat. The fur was smooth, but course. "Like it? Mm?" An old fat man with a bulldog face croaked in the corner. He made a sound like he was clearing his throat, but he seemed to wield it as a kind of punctuation mark, meaning whatever tone he put into it. "It is interesting. Is this some kind of buffalo hair?" "Mm. That is a ten thousand woman flag. It's women's pubic hair." Yaqob withdrew his hand. "Yes. Mm. The Boxers carried it into battle. They believed that the magic in this flag would make them bullet proof. Mm. I suppose their wives and sisters and mothers were happy to let their genitals go cold if it kept the men alive." "It didn't work?" "Well of course it didn't work! If women's pubic hair could stop a thirty-forty krag I think body armor would look a bit different nowadays, wouldn't it? Mm! They got gunned down in the millions." "Mr Fu, this is Yaqob Yohannes, the Prince of Ethiopia." Zhong-shan said, somewhat nervously. "Yeh, Mm, I saw that you were a negro." the old man stood up. Yaqob, towering above every one of the Chinese he'd met so far, was especially aware of his height as Jiang Fu hobbled toward him. If he were to stack one Jiang Fu atop another, he wasn't sure the top one would even reach his chin. "An American sailor told me you have to watch out for negroes because they are such big animals they can maul anything they want to. You are a big thing, Mm, but I'm not sure you have much mauling in you." "I've never mauled anyone." Yaqob said. "Yeh. Mm. You got a place for superstition in your mind?" "What?" "Thinking the pubic hair flag could stop bullets?" "Ah, no." "Mm. Good. I wasn't sure if your race had any sense. I've been looking over your maps. You think building a railroad in Ethiopia is a sensible idea?" "I don't know." Yaqob admitted. Akale spoke up, "Why would it not be? Is Ethiopia worse than any other country?" Jiang Fu seemed to swing around quickly despite his age, facing the other man. "Here. Mm. Here's the thing. I don't put much stock in the idea that one group of people is all that much more special than the others. Mm. China built the greatest civilization in the world and just half a century ago our people were waving pubic hair in the streets trying to stop bullets. I can look at a piece of ground and tell you exactly how the people there are going to do. Any idiot race could make an Empire in China, or in America. It's communication. Transportation. Mm! That's what matters. Your country is all mountains. Mm! Good for goats! Bad for transportation." "But what should we do?" Yaqob asked. "Fly." Jiang Fu said, waving a liver-spotted hand. Yaqob wanted to ask more, but dumplings were brought out, and Jiang Fu hobbled toward them like a starved basset hound. Yaqob stared out the window at Lushun in the red light of the setting sun. "I built it. Mm. Mm." Jiang Fu was choking down a dumpling like a snake struggling with a mouse. "What?" "This house. Mm. My friends said I am stupid. People are going to see in. See what I do." "It's not easy to see in. The sun blocks it out." Yaqob assured. "Mm. What am I doing in here! I don't murder my servants! I don't hide skeletons. What am I hiding? I don't sit around the front room naked. Mm. And so what if I did? I'm not a blushing maiden. If you look into this house and see me naked, that's your problem. And if you keep looking? Why would you do that? Do you stare at toads? Mm!" Yaqob said nothing, uncertain if he was getting a rant or a lecture. "Mm! Come on. Eat." They all sat down, chewing on the fishy tasting dumplings. Congressman Zhong-shan spoke up. "These men came here because they wanted to know about how we may help them develop their rail." "Mm. This will be harder than Urumqi. That was desert. This is mountains. I can do it. It will cost a lot. Oh. You wanted it built here they told me?" he pointed to a map as he sucked the guts out of a dumpling. Yaqob looked. He was pointing to the south of Ethiopia. "Yes." Akale said. "There aren't many towns there. Does anybody live there besides, Mm, jungle pygmies?" "This is the coffee growing region." "Oh. That's important. So you want to ship coffee then? That doesn't have to be as smooth of a line." "So you can do it?" Akale asked. "Mm. That's up to the government. I'm not a congressman." "I will begin work." Zhong-shan said. "During a war? Mm. Hou is a practical man. I don't think he would agree." "We'll show him why he should agree." Zhong-shan said. "Mm. Show him. Mm! He'll show you! I keep telling your friends, I know that you have disagreements with the Old Guard, and that's fair enough, those communists are all tea and roses. But Hou? He is very practical. Mm! I'm not a communist. I'm not a capitalist. I am practical, and I can see practical." Yaqob felt some sort of oddly placed pride swell up in his breast. This was exactly the sentiments he felt about Hou and his communist project. Jiang Fu continued. "I think it's good that Wen Chu Ming died. Don't tell Hou that. Mm! Never tell Hou that, don't tell him I said it. Mm! But Wen Chu Ming was an idealist. I think. I never met him. Well, Hou lives in the real world. Remember the Tenth Anniversary celebration? Of the end of the revolution?" "Oh." Zhong-shan said, sounding like he'd been kicked in the gut. "I don't think the old man knew it, or maybe he just let them have their fun, but the committee for the celebration put together all these theatrics! They had a dozen orchestras, and built this massive set with this big dragon, being held up by a bunch of ten-foot workers, or maybe they were giving it a belly rub. Mm. I dunno. The thing was ridiculous! Then it comes time, and it's night, and all the orchestras are playing together. Then they stop. Hou comes out of the dragon's mouth to make a speech. Only, he doesn't do it puffed up or anything like they expected! He comes out so meek. I remember him having a cane. Mm. I don't think he had a cane, but I remember him. Mm. Having a cane. He looked like someone's grandpa was lost behind the set! You could have heard a stick drop in the crowd. Mm. I think I heard his cane. Did he have a cane? Well, he gave his speech, and it was so casual. Practical." "He did not have a cane. The Chairman is in good health." Zhong-shan corrected. "I like that man. The communists come up with ridiculous things. The leftists. They say. Mm. 'We can teach the peasants to make steel when they are not farming.' and Hou says, 'No, there is no reason for that, what is the purpose? Let them farm so we can eat.' Mm. I don't want to know what will happen to China after that man is gone." "The revolution will carry us forward." Zhong-shan said dully. "Right. Mm." "You said something about flying earlier." Yaqob said, "That Ethiopians should fly instead of build railroads." "Mm. Yes. Airplanes, airships. That might be less expensive, at least for a while. Mm. Here, think of it, you can build your roads and your railroads slowly over time, a little here and a little there. But in the mean time, train pilots, buy aircraft. The future is in the air." "Is it?" "It's faster. Mm. The future is in rockets. Space! Think of it. How quick might you get coffee to market with rockets? It's expensive now, but when it is as cheap as a donkey and a cart, Mm! That's the future. The future might be good to Africa. I can tell by a piece of land how good their people will do. Africa is a wilderness. All jungle and deserts and mountains." "We still want to try with the railroads." Akale said. "Mm." Jiang Fu nodded somberly, "Yes. I will see what I can do, when I am given permission to work."