Diary of One Who Disappeared Read online

  Diary of One Who Disappeared : A Novella

  Jason Erik Lundberg

  ISBN: 978-981-47-8563-1

  First Edition, April 2019

  © 2019 by Jason Erik Lundberg

  Author photo by Mindy Tan. Used with permission.

  Cover art by Victoria Lee, inspired by the artwork of João Lauro Fonte.

  Design by Victoria Lee.

  Published in Singapore by Epigram Books

  www.epigrambooks.sg

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  OCTOBER

  NOVEMBER

  DECEMBER

  FEBRUARY

  MARCH

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  A Project Supported by the Creation Grant

  Advance Praise for Diary of One Who Disappeared

  “A richly-detailed and satisfying story of dissolution and discovery, set in a near-future reality where the question of what makes us human is paramount. Against larger political concerns, a smaller and more searing narrative unfolds, about a man who is lost and found in places that are found and lost. Within the pages of this book are insights on the human heart, serene and devastating in its truth-telling.”

  Dean Francis Alfar, Palanca grand prize-winning author of

  Salamanca and The Field Guide to the Roads of Manila

  “A fascinating journey of adventure and ideas, capturing

  many of the political and geopolitical issues of today.

  Evocative and effective.”

  Jeffrey Ford, World Fantasy Award-wining author of Ahab’s Return

  “A story of interpersonal and international politics, a haunting exploration of how one defines and redefines oneself, a thriller and a human tale of personal growth. If you are looking for intelligent, thought-provoking speculative fiction, board the airship from the repressive North American Union to cosmopolitan Tinhau. Readers of thoughtful, humane fiction are in for a treat.”

  John Kessel, Nebula Award-winning author of The Moon and the Other

  “A fantastic tale of the possibility of revolution—both personal and political—inherent in every moment.”

  Ken Liu, Hugo Award-winning author of

  The Paper Menagerie and Other Stories

  “Diary of One Who Disappeared is a riveting, poignant account of a man’s world falling apart and the new one he creates for himself. As much a dark reflection of our own world today, it’s also a cautionary tale of the possible futures we can yet avoid. Surprising and thought-provoking, Lundberg’s striking milieu and engaging characters will linger with readers long after they turn the last page.”

  E. C. Myers, Andre Norton Award-winning author of

  Fair Coin, Quantum Coin and The Silence of Six

  “A striking new way of seeing Singapore, the USA and the emigrant experience in an age of renewed bigotry and environmental disaster.”

  Ng Yi-Sheng, Singapore Literature Prize-winning author of Lion City

  “A wildly inventive epistolary narrative that’s equal parts

  1984, The Twilight Zone, The Adventures of Luther Arkwright and Claremont-era X-Men. Lose yourself in a world where digital technology collides with airships, phlogiston cannons, pirates and tesseracts; and where love or loss may be just an alternate universe away.”

  Victor Fernando R. Ocampo, Romeo Forbes award-winning author of

  The Infinite Library and Other Stories

  “Set in a not-so distant future, the book offers a reflection of global politics today and provokes questions of what it means to be human. Through diary entries and letters we witness hope, grief and disappointment amidst the persistence and failure of imperialism. We are reminded of the political potentials of speculative fiction, but most of all, Diary of One Who Disappeared is about a journey. It is a story of travel and transformation, a contemplation of encounters and roads not taken.”

  Intan Paramaditha, PEN Translates award-winning author of Apple and Knife

  “Through communiqués, missives and the common email, relationships unfold and splinter within a futuristic world ruled by religiosity and prejudice, mirroring our present-day political climate in terrifying but revelatory ways. The narrative also convincingly offers a morality tale about how the ramifications of our actions and thoughts, even our unconscious desires, extend beyond the realm of our known universe.”

  Cyril Wong, Singapore Literature Prize-winning author of

  Ten Things My Father Never Taught Me

  “Lundberg’s world-building is constructed from the inside out, ideas wrapped around an underlying architecture of emotion. A smart, engaging voice.”

  Charles Yu, celebrated author of

  How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe

  Also by Jason Erik Lundberg

  Fiction

  Most Excellent and Lamentable (2019)

  Strange Mammals (2013)

  Embracing the Strange (2013)

  The Alchemy of Happiness (2012)

  Red Dot Irreal (2011, 2012)

  The Time Traveler’s Son (2008)

  Four Seasons in One Day (2003)

  The Curragh of Kildaire (2001, 2012)

  Picture Books

  Carol the Coral (2016)

  A Curious Bundle for Bo Bo and Cha Cha (2015)

  Bo Bo and Cha Cha and the Lost Child (2015)

  Bo Bo and Cha Cha Cook Up a Storm (2014)

  Bo Bo and Cha Cha and the New Year Gift (2014)

  Bo Bo and Cha Cha’s Big Day Out (2013)

  A New Home for Bo Bo and Cha Cha (2012)

  As Editor

  Best Singaporean Short Stories 1 (2019, UK)

  The Epigram Books Collection of Best New Singaporean Short Stories:

  Volume One (2013), Two (2015), Three (2017) and Four (2019)

  LONTAR #1–10 (2013–2018)

  Fish Eats Lion (2012, 2014)

  A Field Guide to Surreal Botany (2008)

  Scattered, Covered, Smothered (2004)

  For John Kessel and every mentor

  who has given me the priceless gift of their expertise

  OCTOBER

  ENCRYPTED DISPATCH

  #A4FEB6946B8AD5C444890F6CB2

  Sent: Mon, 01 Oct, 3.37pm

  Rick,

  I’ve just returned by train from the indef camp in Orlando with the rest of the DESD contingent, and things are worse than we suspected. The camp warden, a squat red-faced man named Duke, put on a good show, presenting a Potemkin tent-city full of their “best behaved” swees, all smiles, everything clean and proper and in its place, not an untoward word against their prison guards. No complaints about the ability-blocking kara bracelets they’re all forced to wear. Each tent decked out with books and magazines and even the odd tablet or æ-reader, like a fun camping trip instead of indefinite detention. Aside from the canvas of the tents, all of the administration and support buildings were grey concrete. The smell of bleach was strong.

  Halfway through the tour, Warden Duke decided that we all needed a demonstration of the karas’ effectiveness; one of the “model” swees was brought before us, a young Hispanic man with arabesqued tattoos on his arms. One of the guards aimed a hand-held device with wires all over it at the swee’s bracelet; the metal kara glowed briefly, and then the warden handed the young man a cup of water. But instead of taking a sip, the swee waved his other hand over the top of the cup, and the water rose out of it! Of course, I’ve read the documentat
ion on hydromancers, but to see it in person is a totally different experience.

  With his outstretched hand, the swee pulled the water upward into a long tail and then manipulated the stream into different shapes in the air. The cup had dropped to the ground. One of my DESD colleagues (I think his name is Herman? He works in financial analysis) involuntarily clapped and let out a cry of delight, and then immediately checked his actions at the severe expression on the warden’s face. But then the warden’s mouth turned into an O as the swee lengthened the water into a thin tube and whipped it quickly in the direction of the warden’s head. It could only have been providence that collapsed Warden Duke’s knees at that moment, saving him from concussion or a lost eye or some worse injury.

  The guards tackled the water-manipulating swee to the ground, even as the water whip struck them on their backs and arms; with the wired box they reactivated the kara, which glowed again, and then the tube of water lost coherence and came apart in a splash that dampened all of them. The swee was again contained, so the guards marched him off to one of the support buildings. The warden stood back up and tried to laugh off the incident, “bad apples and all that”, but he was clearly rattled that the demonstration had not gone according to plan.

  I slipped away on the excuse of needing the toilet, and was able to meet up with our contact Blair in a service corridor inside the administration building. She handed over a sealed envelope, which I secreted underneath my shirt. Once the camp tour was concluded and I was back in my hotel room, I scanned the enclosed documents and photos, and then burned the originals; the digital files are attached to this dispatch.

  It’s clear that the tent-city was a ruse, because all the swees in the concentration camp are actually housed deep underground in fenced-off areas. The kara bracelets are not even necessary there because the walls are lined with a mesh that acts like an enormous Faraday cage, and blocks their superhuman abilities en masse, no matter what kind; they’ve solved the problem of having to engineer each kara to work specifically with a given swee’s ability. However, the effect is that the environment looks like a maximum security prison. The electricity of the camp is powered by solar panels, but the swees themselves are denied sunlight.

  The technology itself is remarkable, far more advanced than I’d have thought we’re currently capable of. Just imagine where we’d be if the Range, that apocalyptic weapon, hadn’t devastated our infrastructure for so long. It’s appalling that these advances come at the expense of freedom and dignity.

  And the children. Rick, they’re keeping the children in overpopulated pens, segregated from the adults. Since they’ve got the swee-testing age now down to eight years old, there are kids there without their parents, without any adult supervision or care, having to cope on their own. Thank the Lord that, by law, we’re unable to test any younger. Can you imagine the evil cruelty that would come with putting babies in cages?

  That this site is on the former Disney World campus could not be more ironic.

  I trust that you’ll be able to use this information in your campaign to close down the camps once and for all, and reintegrate the swees back into society. You have a difficult task ahead of you, sir, and battling President Jarret’s single-minded bigotry is something I do not envy.

  I’m also very aware that my diplomatic trip to Tinhau two days hence is now all the more important. If we’re able to re-establish a partnership with a nation that openly celebrates its swee population, it’ll increase the pressure on our “Dear Leader” to release his fellow citizens back into a life of dignity. But I worry that Ailene will throw a wrench into both our plans; her intolerance has only grown in the past few years, and her disdain for swees is a matter of public record. I’m praying that the importance of this mission will override her disgust and hatred.

  I’ll send an official communiqué before our airship departs for Tinhau, so that any monitored communication will produce the paper trail we want to leave. If you get a moment, I’d appreciate if you could spare a prayer for the success of this venture. More from me soon.

  Lucas

  PRIORITY COMMUNIQUÉ

  To DESD Director Richard O’Brien

  For Your Eyes Only

  Wednesday, October 3

  Dear Director O’Brien,

  Once again, I must thank you for this grand opportunity to both spread the Word of Our Lord and work with the Orientals to revive the fortunes of our great North American Union and restore our empire to its former glory. With the Holy Father at our backs, hallowed be His name, we will once again become a force with which to be reckoned, and the Department of Economic and Spiritual Development shall forever reap the gains. Our faith will move mountains.

  Soon I will be ensconced within a cabin on the NAUS Zior awaiting lift-off, the airship passage procured through our liaisons at Stewart Air Force Base. DESD Agent Grade Five Ailene Noonan will occupy the neighbouring berth, as per her wishes. I noticed a certain reticence on the part of the vessel’s officers and crew yesterday as we came aboard for orientation, towards both Agent Noonan and myself. It is tempting to have a word with the captain of this vessel; after all, this long-haul flight will last around ten days, during which time we will all be cooped up together, colliding in the corridors and stepping on one another’s toes.

  Our flight plan will take us northwest over the NAU provinces at the Arctic Circle, and thence through Russia and south along the coastlines of Nippon, China, Viet Nam, Siam and Malaya, before arriving at our destination in The Republic of Tinhau. Captain Bergeron has informed us of the increased risk of air piracy as we pass farther into Southeast Asia, but he is confident that his vessel’s armour and phlogiston cannons will shepherd us through any such altercations.

  This evening, Agent Noonan and I shall discuss our strategy in dealing with Tinhau’s Ministry of Stability, for both cooperation and conversion. I take solace in your words, sir, that we must establish a friendship for mutual benefit, as well as to bring these Orientals to the Lord Our God so that they too will know the Kingdom of Heaven. I am filled with anticipation in doing His great work.

  It is approaching time for reflection and prayer, and thus I must end here. I will report again several days hence as we reach the wireless node at Anchorage.

  Your Obedient Servant and Emissary,

  DESD Agent Grade Three Lucas Lehrer

  FROM THE PAPER JOURNAL OF LL

  Wednesday, October 3

  To the future, to a time of peace and spiritual communion and contentment: From the age of “recovery”, from the age of doublespeak, from the age of the “Holy Empire” of the North American Union—greetings!

  Oh, what a big head I have, to think anyone will be interested in the ravings of a low-level civil servant anytime in the future. I’m of course talking to myself here. Hello, me!

  Just before boarding this lighter-than-air monstrosity, I emailed my first official mission-related missive off into the æther, to wend its way to the ordinator squatting like a toad on O’Brien’s desk. I hope my verbal gymnastics are to the satisfaction of whoever will be intercepting them, although I hate having to perform like this at all. Still, I understand the importance of putting up a good front to those above O’Brien, so that no one gets suspicious about our true motives for meeting with Tinhau’s government.

  Ailene is next door. Separated by a thick metal wall, and so much more. Eight years we’ve been married, eight years I’ve done everything asked of me, yet it’s never enough. I didn’t even want her along on this voyage to the East, my own brainchild, but since she insisted as my superior that she head the operation, I thought that it might at least rekindle something lost between us, maybe even get her into my bed once again. But the possibility seems increasingly unlikely.

  I’ve never felt so alone. It’s been over fourteen months since the last time we made love. When we got married, I believed (naïvely) there was no problem that couldn’t be overcome with patience and understanding. Now I know better. Now I see
who she really is.

  I’m reading over these words, and this feels angry. I am angry, but at the same time, I still love her. I still remember the same insecure and funny new recruit at DESD orientation during our cohort’s first week on the job, how her full-throated laugh could send tremors of pleasure up my spine. Her confidence and surety still arouse me. Am I a complete idiot? We’ve been through so much together, shared a lot of pain and sacrifice. I’d feel like a quitter if I simply gave up now.

  Or is that really it? Do I really want Ailene back, or do I want to prevent the end of our marriage? I was never very good at being single; our years of couplehood (and courtship before that) have been stable and dependable, and I’ve been accorded every social and civic benefit of being married. It’s expected, it’s “normal”. Is this terror at the uncertainty of a marital failure, or do I honestly want us to be partners in life once again?

  I have no answers right now. Things have been bad lately, but maybe she just needs a bit of space. At the very least, for the duration of this mission, we can be professionals.

  Supplemental

  Captain Bergeron has invited us to eat in the officers’ mess during the voyage, so that’s where Ailene and I met for dinner. Ailene only sipped her ginger ale and picked at her food, avoiding my eyes the whole time. Our conversation consisted of banal chit-chat, the same bullshit we go through at every shared meal, barely twenty words spoken between us. I tried discussing the mission, but Ailene refused to talk about it. Halfway through the meal, she excused herself and left for her cabin, her food mostly untouched. She claims she’s got motion sickness, which has given her nausea and “a piercing headache”. I don’t know whether to believe her, even when she says she’s been vomiting since the moment we departed New York. Part of me is sympathetic; I know how terrible that can be. Another part of me takes guilty pleasure at the idea that she’s feeling so awful, and I wonder if that makes me a bad person.