Reporters’ flashbulbs popped, and the following day, large photos of Green, in evening wear covered in a spectrum of ice cream flavors and raising a genteel finger, ran in every major newspaper, informing all of Europe and the Americas of the prime minister’s noble demeanor as a politician. He exploited this stroke of luck to the full, while Davey could only blame drunkenness. Now, facing a crowd of furious young heads of state and sneering reporters, Davey began to defend himself: “What’re you calling me? Hegemonic? If America’s hegemonic, what about the English? Just wait till you see how hegemonic they can be!”
Green raised a finger to the foreign secretary again. “Please draft another diplomatic protest against this shameless attack on the United Kingdom by the president of the United States of America. This is our statement: We, and our fathers and mothers and grandfathers and grandmothers, are the most courteous people in the world. They have never, and will never, take such uncultured barbaric acts.”
“Don’t listen to him!” Davey said, waving both hands at the crowd. “I’m telling you, back in the tenth century, England called itself King of the Seas, and they called all the waters they could navigate the British Seas. On these seas, when another country’s ship met an English ship, it had to lower its flag in salute, or else the English navy would fire on it. In 1554, Prince Philip of Spain sailed to England to wed Queen Mary, and because the salute was forgotten, he was fired upon several times. In 1570, again because of the naval salute, the English navy almost fired upon the Queen of Spain’s ship. Ask him if it’s true!”
Davey remained Davey, and his fiery retort rendered Green speechless. He continued, “You want to talk hegemony? That’s a word invented by adults. But it’s really just a simple thing. A few centuries ago, England had the world’s biggest navy, so what they did wasn’t hegemonic, it was glorious history. Today, America has the world’s biggest navy. We’ve got Nimitz-class aircraft carriers, nuclear submarines, planes as numerous as mosquitoes and tanks as numerous as ants. But we’ve never forced anyone to lower their flag to salute US ships! How dare you call us hegemonic? One of these days—”
Before he finished, his jaw was the recipient of a heavy fist, and like Green he went toppling head over heels over the banquet table. He brushed away the arms trying to help him up, but twisted like a fish back to his feet, in the process grabbing a bottle of French champagne as long as his arm and brandishing it in the direction from which the blow had come. But he stopped midswing, and the remaining champagne bubbled out of the bottle and into a foamy pool on the oak floor.
Standing opposite him was Ōnishi Fumio, the prime minister of Japan. The tall, thin Asian boy wore a calm expression, and if you didn’t look at his eyes it was hard to believe that he was the one who threw the punch. Davey relaxed his grip and let the empty bottle fall away.
Two days earlier, Davey had seen a report shot by CNN showing the famous statue in Hiroshima of a girl who died as a result of the atomic bomb holding aloft a paper crane. Now there was a mountain of white objects, piled up like snow to half the statue’s height. At first glance Davey thought they were the same paper cranes children had always offered at the statue, but when the camera zoomed in for a closer look, he realized what they actually were: paper fighter jets. Groups of children in white hachimakis emblazoned with the sun flag came forward singing “Drawn Sword Corps” and throwing more folded fighter planes toward the statue. Those paper planes spiraled round the girl like white spirits, and piled higher and higher at her feet, bringing her ever closer to burial.
And then the Chinese guests arrived, weary from the journey. Huahua and the ambassador to the US, Du Bin, were accompanied by the American vice president, William Mitchell.
Davey met them at the foot of the stairs and greeted them with an enthusiastic embrace. Then he said to the rest of the children, “Good. Now that children from every country are here, we can begin discussing the important issues of the children’s world.”
CANDYTOWN IN AMERICA
When the Chinese plane finally reached the end of its arduous journey and arrived in the airspace over New York’s JKF Airport, all they could see below them was empty ocean. The tower informed the pilot that the water on the runway was shallow, not even midcalf, so they could safely land using two files of widely spaced black dots as runway markers. Through binoculars they determined that the dots were vehicles parked in the water on the runway. The landing itself produced clouds of spray, and when it dispersed, Huahua noticed that the airport was under heavy security. Armed soldiers were standing everywhere in the water. When the plane came to a complete stop, it was quickly surrounded by a dozen armored vehicles that had been following it like speedboats through the shallow water. A group of fully armed soldiers in field camouflage jumped out of the vehicles and began running around like weird insects, and they and the vehicles quickly formed a perimeter around the plane. The soldiers, guns in hand, faced away from the plane and looked around warily, as did the machine gunners atop the armored cars.
The hatch opened and several American children hurried up the stair that had been put in place. Most of them were carrying rifles, and one had a large bag. Huahua’s two armed guards flanked the aircraft door to prevent them from entering, but Huahua had them make way, since he had seen a Chinese kid at the front of the group, the ambassador Du Bin.
Once the children entered the cabin and had caught their breath, Du Bin introduced a blond-haired boy to Huahua: “This is vice president of the United States William Mitchell, here to welcome you.” Huahua took stock of the boy, the large gun he had strapped at his waist that looked extremely out of place next to his tailored suit. Du Bin then introduced another boy, wearing fatigues. “This is Major General Dowell, who’s in charge of security for UN attendees.”
“This is how we’re being welcomed?” Huahua asked Mitchell, which Du Bin translated.
“You can have the red carpet and an honor guard if you’d like. The day before yesterday the president of Finland was given a ceremony on a temporary stage, and had his leg shattered by a bullet,” Mitchell said, and Du Bin translated for Huahua.
Huahua said, “We’re not here to visit the United States, so we don’t need such formalities. But this is a little unusual.”
Mitchell sighed and shook his head. “Please forgive our situation. I’ll explain in detail on the way.”
Then from his bag Dowell pulled out jackets for the Chinese children to wear, bulletproof clothing, he said. Then from another bag he took out a few snub-nosed black pistols and handed them to Huahua and his entourage, saying, “Careful. They’re fully loaded.”
“Why do we need these?” asked Huahua in surprise.
Mitchell said, “In today’s America, if you go out unarmed it’s like going out without pants!”
They all deplaned and walked down the stairs, and, closely surrounded by a group of soldiers to shield them from any stray bullets, Mitchell led Huahua and Du Bin to an armored car parked in the water. The others got into separate cars. The cars were dark and cramped and smelled of fuel. The children sat on hard benches fixed to either side, and then the fully armed motorcade sped away.