It’s all I see. Hatred, pain, ugliness. I can’t work. I can’t think. The truth is I don’t think I should be working, or thinking, or breathing. I go through the motions every day. I watch Korolev stumble and fail but I can’t bring myself to help. I want no part in this, or anything else.
Stalin, Beria. These are the good guys, the people who defeated Hitler. These are the people we’re supposed to save. Fuck no. Let this world burn, and me with it.
32
East of the Sun (and West of the Moon)
They arrested him. Former “Red Squads” accused Hsue-Shen of being a member of a “subversive organization.” He was questioned by the FBI before he decided to take his family to Shanghai. They seized his belongings, which, they said, contained classified materials, and they put him in jail. His friends got him out, but he is now under house arrest. His security clearance was revoked, his application for citizenship denied. His son isn’t even two. His daughter is four months old. It doesn’t matter where these children grow up now, they will be strangers everywhere. Discarded by their own country, mistrusted wherever they go.
They said he was a member of the Communist Party. The accusation is preposterous; his family served the opposing side. They said he attended “meetings.” I am certain he has. Social gatherings of liberal scholars, reinventing the world over a gin and tonic. Not exactly a plot to “spread communism” and overthrow the government. Common sense rarely prevails in the face of paranoia, but this is completely asinine.
I hardly recognize the world anymore. My daughter is running from her duty. Her mind is troubled, and I cannot blame her for it. It would be difficult, with the evidence at hand, to reach a different conclusion. The world as it is does not beg saving.
I watch Mia suffer and I wish I could make it stop. I feel the guilt Hsue-Shen spoke of. I thrusted my daughter into a life she did not choose, as my mother did with me. We were never asked to be who we are. Whatever choice we made, it happened long before Mia was born. Perhaps I should have let her make it again.
I know now why my grandmother hid her climate research from everyone. I know why she did not tell a soul. She was ashamed. She did not fear that our efforts were in vain if the planet was doomed. She would have shared that thought, like my mother did. She hoped the planet was dying. She was looking for a way out. Something was eating away at her soul, and she was desperate to rationalize it, one carbon measurement at a time. She wanted to stop. She did not want her daughter, her granddaughter to carry our burden. She wanted to live, and for her child to have a normal life.
It should have been obvious. I chose not to see her failings because I did not want to face mine. I will not betray all that came before me, but I do share my grandmother’s sentiment. I, too, would very much like to live, for Mia to pursue happiness in any way she wants. I wish I could die of old age and watch my granddaughter grow. I wish we were someone else.
33
I’m Gonna Dig Myself a Hole
—Korolev left a message for you. He said your presence is requested at State Central Range No. 4.
Mia barely spends time with Korolev anymore. I doubt she realizes how much he—the entire program—is struggling. Korolev misses her—he says so loudly and often—but he does not know what he is missing. He longs for Nina the interpreter, not the scientist with an IQ forty points above his. I can hardly blame him; he doesn’t know that person exists. He has only seen glimpses of what she can do.
—Tell him I can’t go. I can’t handle Kapustin Yar right now.
—Who is Kapustin Yar?
—It’s not a who, Mother, it’s a place. Total shitville. Too hot or too cold. Getting supplies, materials, getting anything there is a nightmare. We can’t even drink the water. I hate it.
—I would assume the living conditions have improved since your last visit. Besides, you will not be there that long.
—You don’t understand. It’s so cold, the launch troops are drinking the rocket fuel to stay warm. When the snow melted in the spring, they found a dead soldier, frozen like a Popsicle. They didn’t even know he was missing. Hell, they found a whole herd of horses. The horses froze to death, Mother.
—Korolev needs you, Mia.
I do not know how to reach her. I thought the work might bring her back but there is too much anger and hate inside her. She is angry at the world for being what it is. She hates me for hiding the truth. She hates herself with infinite conviction.
—No he doesn’t. Korolev only wants to go back because that’s where he kissed me for the first time.
—What?
—Yes. We had our first successful launch with the R-1. Out of the blue, Korolev pours me a glass of champagne, says, “To the stars!” and kisses me. I should have slapped him.
—Mia! People will think—
—Oh, Mother. Everyone thinks Korolev and I are having an affair. His wife thinks we’re having an affair. She served him with divorce papers last year. He said he wanted to save his marriage. Good luck with that. Anyway, tell the soon-to-be-divorcé chief designer that he can find someone else. Tell him I’m allergic to cats.
—You are not, but what does that have to do with anything?
—That place is hell? Even the mice know it. There are snakes everywhere and it gets super cold at night. We put this nice and cozy insulation over the R-1 wiring and the mice moved in. Then they ate the wires because, why not? So yes, we bring cats every time we go up there to keep the mice from destroying the rockets.
Four, almost five years of work and this is what we are left with.
—Mia. I know you still hate me, but the Soviets—
—I don’t hate you, Mother. I hate myself.
—Do you think there is a difference? Can I finish what I was saying now?
—Yes.
—The Soviets will never get anywhere without your help.
—They have the R-1, the R-2.
—The R-1 is an imperfect copy. And no, they most definitely do not have the R-2. Twelve test launches, Mia. Twelve. All of them failures. That is the longest test series on record and they could not hit their target once. They will fail without you. You also need to publish what little work you have done so that others can build on it.
—I can do it later.
—Get someone to publish your findings. Trust me, you do not want to spend a decade teaching your daughter about things she could teach herself at the library. Spread your rocket knowledge far and wide and your child will only have to learn about rockets.
—It’s not as bad as you think, Mother. They’re making progress. Korolev is working on the R-3 and—
—Mia, you need to wake up. The R-1 has a range of two hundred and eighty kilometers and it barely works. Now they want to hit three thousand. Korolev is ambitious—I will give him as much—but the R-3 is a gigantic quagmire. New technologies, new propellants, new problems. It is quicksand, Mia. It will be the end of Korolev’s bureau if you do not step in.
—We’re doing what we can.
—You are not doing anything, Mia. You stare at the clouds for hours on end while they do what they can. Unfortunately, what they can is not enough.
—I’m not ready, Mother. Tell him I can’t.
—I told him you were indisposed. He did not seem to care. He said nothing about bringing cats, but he did mention two dogs. Derik and…
—No! Not the dogs! I thought they were running a second test series on the R-2!