“Are the guns real, uncle?” a child said to Zhang Lin, who had just arrived.
“Of course. These submachine guns are the army’s newest issue. They’re small and lightweight. Their foldable stock makes them well-suited for children.”
Children cooed with awe as they excitedly picked up the guns. But Zheng Chen shouted sharply, “Stop! No one is to touch those things.” Then she turned to Zhang Lin. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Surely weapons are one of a country’s essential supplies,” he said lightly.
“You said they’re well-suited for… use by children?”
“Oh, you needn’t worry,” he said with a chuckle, and bent down to lift a string of shells from the ammo case. “These bullets are nonlethal. They’re actually just two small balls of wire stuck to a piece of plastic, light enough that they lose velocity rapidly after firing and won’t cause any bodily injuries. But the balls of wire carry a strong static charge and will release tens of thousands of volts into the target upon impact, enough to cause a fall and momentary loss of consciousness. The current is quite low, so the target will recover quickly and will suffer no lasting harm.”
“Electrocution won’t cause any harm?”
“This ammunition was first developed for police use and has undergone numerous animal and human tests. Police in the West were first equipped with it in the 1980s, and there have been no casualties in the many times it has been used.”
“And if they strike an eye?”
“Eye protection.”
“If the person hit falls from a high place?”
“We’ve chosen a relatively level geography precisely for that reason…. I have to admit of course that it’s impossible to guarantee absolute safety, but there will be minimal chances for harm.”
“Do you really intend to give these weapons to the children, and permit them to use them on other children?”
Zhang Lin nodded.
Zheng Chen blanched. “Can’t they use toy guns?”
He shook his head. “War is an indispensable part of a country’s history. We have to create as real an atmosphere as possible to obtain reliable results.”
“Results? What results?” She stared at him with fear in her eyes, as if he were some kind of monster. “What are you all really after?”
“Calm down, Ms. Zheng. We’re being pretty restrained already. Reliable intelligence says that some countries are allowing their children to use live ammo.”
“Other countries? Is the whole world playing this game?”
She glanced absently around her, as if to ascertain whether or not she was dreaming. Then, with effort, she calmed herself down, straightened her hair, and said, “Please send me and the children back home.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. This region is now under martial law. I told you that this is extremely important work…”
She lost control of her calm again. “I don’t care about that. I will not permit you to do this. I am a teacher. I have my own duty and conscience.”
“We have the same conscience, and an even greater duty. And those are the two things that force us to act.” He turned his sincere face toward her. “Please trust us.”
“Send the children home!” she shouted.
“Please trust us.”
A quiet voice from behind her sounded familiar, although she couldn’t immediately place it. The children were staring in shock at a spot behind her, so she turned around to discover a sizable crowd of people who, once she took them all in, only increased her sense of being outside of reality. Paradoxically, this calmed her again. She could identify a few in back as senior national leaders who often appeared on television, but the first two she recognized were standing right in front of her.
The president and the premier.
“It’s like having a nightmare, right?” the president asked gently.
She nodded, unable to speak.
The premier said, “That’s nothing unusual. That was our feeling at first, too. But we adjusted quickly.”
“Your work is very important, and involves the fate of the country and its people,” the president said. “Later, we’ll explain everything, and at that time, comrade teacher, you’ll feel pride in the work you’ve done and are doing.” His words eased her mind to an extent.
When the group started off toward a neighboring territory, the premier took a step back and said to Zheng Chen, “All you need to understand right now is this: The world isn’t what it used to be.”
“Let’s give our little country a name, everyone,” Specs said.
The morning sun was peeking over the ridge, painting the valley in gold.
“Let’s call it Sunland!” Huahua said, and after unanimous approval, added, “We need to paint a flag.”
So the children found a piece of white canvas among the supplies, and Huahua took a thick marker from his schoolbag and drew a circle with it. “That’s a sun. Who’s got a red one, so we can fill it in.”
“Won’t that be the Japanese flag?” a child asked.
Xiaomeng took the marker and drew a pair of large eyes and a laughing mouth on the sun, and added radiating lines for rays of light. The children approved of this flag. In the Supernova Era, this clumsily artful flag was preserved in the National History Museum as a priceless historic artifact.
“And a national anthem?”
“Let’s use the song of the Young Pioneers.”
When the sun had fully cleared the mountains, the children held a flag-raising ceremony in the center of their land.
After the ceremony, Zhang Lin asked Huahua, “Why did you first think of setting out a flag and anthem?”
“A country needs them as… a symbol. The students have to be able to see the country in order for us to cohere.”
Zhang Lin made a few notes in his notebook.
“Did we do something wrong?” a child asked.
“Like I said before, you will be making all the decisions. You do things as you see fit. My duty is to observe, but never to interfere.” Then to Zheng Chen, he said, “That goes for you, too, Ms. Zheng.”
Next, the children elected national leaders, choosing Huahua, Specs, and Xiaomeng in a painless process. Huahua had Lü Gang form a military, for which twenty-five children volunteered. Twenty of them received submachine guns, and Lü Gang consoled the five who were furious at not getting any that the guns would be rotated over the next few days. Xiaomeng appointed Lin Sha as health minister and put her in charge of all medication in their provisions, and of treating any patients. The children decided that other state institutions would be set up as needed.
Then they started to settle into their new territory. They cleared some space and went to work on the tents, but when a few kids entered the first one they set up, it collapsed on top of them and they had a tough time digging their way out of the canvas. But they were enjoying it. By noontime, they had managed to erect a few tents and move the cots inside, basically settling the lodging issue.
Before they started making lunch, Xiaomeng suggested that they ought to take an inventory of all food and water and come up with a detailed plan for its daily use: conserve on food the first two days, since once land clearing began, their workload would increase and they would need to eat more. And they had to keep in mind that if agriculture ran into problems, there would be delays in getting food from the directorate. The children had worked up a considerable appetite over the course of the morning and were quite upset that they couldn’t dig in immediately, but Xiaomeng patiently explained the situation to them as best she could.
Zhang Lin stood quietly off to the side watching all of this, making more notes in his notebook.