A man, a swordsman, a simple fool with nothing of the Emperor’s greatness in him, a soldier in the real army upon which the facsimile was based, earned himself the ire of a minor warlord in the late Emperor’s service. It is not written nor remembered, what this simple fool’s misdeed was, but it was so grave-or perhaps, the warlord was so cruel-that it earned him a living death. The soldier was beaten senseless and pushed into one of the moulds used to make the terracotta men. He suffocated in there, seared to his demise and baked into the stone, bones and flesh buried along with thousands of identical mannequins.
The warlord later perished in battle and sank to the Nine Hells, as he deserved. But his cruelty extends to this day. The simple man remains lost, his bones encased in one of thousands of stone statues. Where they are, his spirit will never know. His peace is denied to him, forever.
This, then, is man’s cruelty. Better to be the cat’s mouse, neh?
Chinese Legend
6. Dreaming the Reality
There was a crackle of static on the wall screen, and the camera remote lit red to show the broadcast was going live. The woman’s face faded in. “Thank you, Shania, for that update. Now, I’m joined live by Heywood Rope, manager and psychic nutritionist for pop sensation Juno Qwan. As our viewers will know, Juno’s sold-out tour came to a alarming conclusion in the stilt-city of Newer Orleans when an apparent domestic terror incident led to the hospitalisation of several audience members. You’re watching ZeeBeeCee’s Entertainment Pulse and I’m your host, Tammy Popeldouris.” The honey-blonde woman on the screen inclined her head and smiled at Rope. “Heywood, good to have you on the show.”
“Great to be here again, Tammy.” He returned the smile, matching her tooth-for-tooth. “Juno wanted me to express her sadness at not being able to make the interview herself, but as you can understand, the events of the last twenty-four hours have been difficult for her.” Rope showed a mask of concern, dressed with a slight sadness.
The reporter mirrored him. “Indeed. And the question Juno’s fans are asking is, how is she?”
Cue reassuring smile. “She’s resting, Tammy. Even without what happened at the Hyperdome, a ten-city tour across NorthAm takes its toll! But she’s fine, really. If anything, Juno is more worried about her fans, who she loves so much. After the incident, she asked me to send a generous donation to the NOLA Medicareplex, and with the help of our friends at RedWhiteBlue we’re doing just that.” He gave a calculated shake of the head, rueful and sad. “Those poor, poor people…”
Tammy spoke to her audience. “Juno is of course at the moment on her way back to her native Hong Kong aboard her private jet-click the green spot on your d-screens for more information or to purchase a virtual replica.” Her expression became neutral. “Heywood, what’s your take on this awful event? From what the local police franchises report, it seems that a group affiliated with the America Alone Alliance Army were responsible for the sabotage of lightshow display equipment at Juno’s farewell concert.”
A frown. “I’m no political expert, Tammy, I’m just a guy who wants to bring great music to the world. But we’ve all heard of the A4 and they’ve made no secret of their dislike of foreign entertainers on their shores… Look what happened in New York, a couple of months ago…”
Tammy nodded. “You’re referring to the so-called ‘Brown Noise’ attack on a concert by the British opera singer Robert Williams at the Carnegie Bowl. Viewers can hyperlink to ZeeBeeCee’s coverage of that incident by touching red on their d-screen.”
“Frankly, I think this is a failure on the part of the American law-enforcement community to properly police their country.” He leaned forward to display his seriousness. “Tammy, let me tell you that some people suggested that Juno should not come to America… But Juno did not want to disappoint the fans, whom she cares for so very much.”
“And those fans wish her well, Heywood. Here at ZeeBeeCee we’ve been inundated with emails asking after her. But regarding the incident at the Hyperdome, how do you react to stories we’ve been hearing that several audience members were attacked by…” She glanced at a data-screen. “Here I’m quoting… ‘an angel of death’?”
Rope’s expression remained unchanged. “People under stress see many strange things, Tammy, and while our security do the best they can to screen out any attendees under the influence of illicit substances, some do sneak through…”
A nod. “An interesting point, Heywood. Only recently, I believe that the Mothers For Meddling attempted to bring a civil suit against Juno’s publisher, RedWhiteBlue, for what they alleged was ‘pro-drug use’ symbology in her songs.”
He allowed himself a moment of irritation. “Tammy, really. Those women are a group of middle-class busybodies with too much time on their hands, looking for scapegoats to blame for their poor parenting skills.” He swayed as the jet bumped an air pocket. “Let’s not forget their unfounded smear campaign against Senator Michael J Fox.”
She smirked, content at having been able to raise a flicker of anger from him. “Back to the fans, then. The other question on their minds-and on ours, of course-is the truth behind the rumours that Juno will headline the so-called WyldSky concert on Hong Kong’s Victoria Peak. What can you tell us, Heywood? True or false?”
Rope waited for a count of three before answering. “Tammy, Juno is a very private person, as you know, and she certainly has a lot of respect for the independent positive-future groups involved in WyldSky. But I couldn’t possibly comment as to her intentions on this matter.”
“Here at ZeeBeeCee we’ve heard that Juno’s publishers are actively trying to dissuade her from having any connection to WyldSky given the markedly anti-corporate stance of the event-”
He held up a hand to interrupt. “Tammy, Juno is a strong-willed and very intelligent young woman. She isn’t going to let some suits tell her where and when she can’t sing. ”
“So you’re saying she’s going to be there?”
A broad smile. “I’m saying anything is possible, Tammy. That’s what I love about my job… I get to see the impossible happen. ”
The interviewer laughed. “Cryptic as ever, Heywood. Well, that’s all we have time for…” The woman turned away and the screen stuttered into blackness. The remote’s red eye dimmed, and Rope saw one of the techs make a throat-cutting gesture. He stood, resisting the urge to spit.
“Are we done?”
The tech nodded. “Good job, Mr Rope-”
“Don’t natter me,” he growled, the face he’d worn during the interview shifting into something cold and immobile. “Where’s our diva?”
“Still in her cabin. Her telemetry is a little wavy but it’s inside normal tolerances.”
Rope bent to take a look out of the nearest window. Through the oval he could see glimpses of a black glass ocean and the steady blink of a red running light on the tip of the jet’s delta wing. He turned away and made for the compartment where his mobile office was located. “Don’t disturb me for anything less than the end of the world, understand?”
The bed enveloped her with coils of warm rope, sweat-hot sheets finding places for themselves to knot about her pale skin and torso. Juno tried very hard to remember how to make herself scream, but the method of it was lost to her. In a broken, detached way she saw the component parts of her thought process fall out of her mouth in coloured blocks of sound. They broke into pieces that smelled like dark.
Eyes where her mouth should be, words for tastes and noises for colours. Everywhere there were mirrors. Talking mirrors that screamed and cried or made sounds that could have been songs. She carefully recited the lyrics to “Halo Kisses” but discovered she could only remember them backwards.
Juno dragged herself off the bed and her bare feet touched the floor. She felt the singing of the wings through the fuselage, and imagined the footless depths of sky around her. She giggled and opened her arms wide. Closed her eyes and drifted over a mirror sea. Mirror see. See mirror. Mirror. Mirror She was on the floor in the corner of the room.