[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
A MEDAL FOR HARRYby Paul LevinsonCopyright (c) 1997 by Paul Levinson.[Published in BLACK MIST and OTHER JAPANESE FUTURES,edited by Orson Scott Card & Keith Ferrell, DAW, December 1997]"Hai!" The waiter bowed quickly and receded like the warmwind in autumn. Masazumi "Harry" Harihoto knew he would soonhave the freshest tekkamaki in New York on his plate. He alsoknew he wouldn't enjoy a bit of it.He looked at the rice papers, the rows and rows of crisp,translucent rice papers on his lap, and shook his head. Somehowthe neat lasered letters on this ancient kind of paper were outof place. Such letters belonged on screens; the delicate paperdeserved the tender ministrations of a pen in hand. Thecombination of the two -- the government's requirement, itsattempt to cling to some tradition in a written realm otherwisegiven over to virtual glyphs -- made him uneasy.What the letters said -- the report he would delivertomorrow -- was even more disturbing.In fact, it might well make him the most hated person inJapan.***Harry had few illusions, especially about who he was. Anunknown, though hardworking, bio-historian. One of manyresearchers caught up in his nation's obsession to find out whythey had become the undisputed global power on Earth by themiddle of the 21st century. Computer chips like jewels thatmade the world run like clockwork; space stations that gleamed inthe sky; pearls of bio-mass in the seas to jump-start the food-chain;and all the gems were Japanese.Oh, everyone knew the proximate reason. The 21st centurywas the most earthquake prone in recent history. No one knewwhy. But Japan had finally come up with buildings that stoodup to them, a saving interface for cities prone to shake likecastanets. "Neuro-spine" construction, the media called it.Grids ran through the centers of buildings with sensors in everyroom, every tile, every wall, every floor -- self-sufficientnetworks of such intelligence and interface power that theycould change the arrangement of those rooms, tiles, walls,floors literally as an earthquake hit, turn the skyscraper intoa lean, tall surfer expertly negotiating the massive wavesbelow, bending here, leaning just right there, so that it stoodproud with just a splash or two of water on its face, a pittancefrom a faucet, when the drum roll was over. Tokyo had been thefirst to be refitted, rewired in a frenzy, spines inserted,when, as luck would have it, the biggest quake of the centuryrolled in. The monster from below that almost ate Tokyo. Hugegnashing of tectonic teeth, 9.3 on the scale. And the newlyjazzed buildings boogeyed to the beat. Swayed madly like kids tothe rock 'n' roll, dig these rhythms and blues, responding,adjusting to every tremor their sensors reported -- shuffling thedeck thoroughly and holding on. And when it was over, the Japanesesun shone down on steel and glass with nary a cracked pane todistort its pure reflection.And then on to the rest of the world, unable to do anything butcheer and embrace and pay for this astonishing demonstration ofJapanese intelligent technology. Forget about cars, computers,holo-screens, even robots and a handful of scientists in space.There were _people_ at stake here -- masses of plain, workaday,food-on-the-table people who quite rightly valued their liveshigh above any gadget or celestial discovery. And whenJapanese algorithms and interface safeguarded the lives ofpeople in San Francisco, Yerevan, Rome, Buenos Aires, whenearthquakes in each of these cities and others shook, rattled,and rolled with no fuss, no bother, except to a few pots andpans, their diverse peoples and governments lost all pretensionof superiority, even equality, to the Japanese culture. Japancan do it better, why not let it in. Protectionism againstwhat? Our own salvation?America with its faults and West Coast cities ever at riskwas especially grateful, especially receptive.Nippon was on top, indisputably, at last. Forget hansei --this was an age of indisputable pride, fulfillment of Japanesedestiny. No room for any regret, no place for reflection tingedwith even the slightest ambivalence, At least, not publicly.But success always comes with its thin, inner sisterinsecurity, Harry and his people had found. Yes, they'dinvented a truly breakthrough technology, but why them? To theworld they presented a face of only smiling, boundless confidence.But to themselves they wondered: why them? Luck was a poor foundationon which to launch a rosy future. Hard work was more reliable, but notvery inspiring when you came right down it no matter what the propagandasaid. Not understanding the true source of their achievements led todoubts about whether their success would continue, whether Japanwas really the "sun of twenty-one" -- the center and light ofhuman life in the later 21st century -- but most of all, whetherthe United States of North America, still the second mostpowerful nation on Earth, might one day come back and reclaimits throne.Unlike the Euro imperialists of the 19th century, whosepower derived from far-flung possessions that got minds of theirown in the 20th, the power of America had always come fromwithin, enhanced now by the voluntary inclusion of Canadianprovinces and Mexican states and Caribbean islands in theAmerican concordance. This giant was no longer on the cuttingedge of anything any more except antique music and movies,but it was still a threat. A dull blade can do much damage."Insecurity is spelled with an i-n-U-s," Yamakira had saidjust last year, "in us, and in U.S." He was the Japanese Freud,so he should know. Far more than Harry, who was paid with alifetime of job stability and semi-respectability not to knowbut to do his research. One of many, following a thread.The waiter appeared again with green tea and acheck-screen, out of sight before Harry had a chance to look upand say thank you. He pressed one key for acceptance of thecharges, another for the standard gratuity, and sipped theliquid. It felt good on his lips, hot enough to inflame histhermal nerve, not enough to burn.In a world in which information was everywhere, as ripe forthe taking as fruit in an orchard, those like Harry whocollected information were low on the pole -- easy come, easygo, like the data they procured, like the waiter with the check.Spin, relationship, position -- wringing meaning and knowledgefrom the information, tea-like, wine-like, magic-like -- thatwas the plum job, the one truly worthy of respect.Yet Harry had found, mostly to his dismay, that sometimesinformation is so searing that it writes its own meaning, setsits own unalterable spin. He hadn't wanted this task, hereminded himself as he looked at his papers. He hadn't believedfor a minute that this path would lead to anything other thananother dead end. Yet he had done his duty and performed allthe tests as stipulated and compiled the statistics and checkedand rechecked his results and he was now sure that what he heldin his lap like a burning filament was truth. The figures beforeand after 1945 were conclusive. The pattern they revealed beyondcontention.And what was he to do with this truth? Simply state it tohis audience tomorrow at Rockefeller University, thenewly-purchased crown of the Japanese educational system?For God's sake, the Prime Minister himself would be there!The Master Spinner of all.***Well, it had gone better than he had expected. No horror,no ridicule, no crowds laughing out loud and hooting him off thestage as his nightmares had proclaimed -- just polite attention,the classic way of his people.He lay in bed, the earliness of the next morning leaking inthe window, wondering where he'd go from here. He stroked Suzie'shead as she lay sleeping on his chest. She had soft golden hair,as if woven from the Japanese sun at daybreak. But she was asAmerican as they came. Blond was still the ideal of Americanculture, for that matter of many Japanese men as well, includingHarry. He'd been attracted to her the moment she'd joined hisresearch team in Tokyo three years ago. But he'd kept hisdistance. Don't mix work with pleasure, mud with rainbows.Builds you nothing but frustration. Who'd have predicted thatthey'd be in his bed together here in New York City, furtheraway in some ways from her home in Montana than Harry's inJapan. But this was no ordinary work. And the pressure itengendered, well, it brought people together."Still mulling over the report?" Her eyelids flutteredopen against his neck."Yeah," Harry said."It's not your responsibility," Suzie sighed, coming morefully awake and confronting what had been their topic ofconversation for weeks on end now."You're wrong. Of course it is."She put her lips near his chest, the palm of her hand onhis stomach. "You -- we -- collect the data. Make theconnections. We can't be responsible for what those in power dowith them."He kissed her head. "That's what scientists have beensaying for centuries. Make the connections. Make the theories.Make the weapons. Then log off the project and let thepoliticians decide what to do with them. But if the politiciansuse what we give them to hurt people, then it's ourresponsibility, isn't it?""No," Suzie sai... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]