"Together" Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Presidential Enquirer - An Urgent Address from the White House

Dear Americans, today is a day of mourning, a day of reflection, a day of prayer. Due to a horrific attack, the people of the grand state of Wyoming have been forever scarred. Cheyanne has been leveled, and over 40,000 citizens of our nation have perished. This brutal attack has warranted a swift response, and our FBI agents have been working diligently to find its perpetrators. With their mighty skills shining through, they have already taken Joseph Lovins, the B-2 Spirit pilot who dropped the bomb, and 15 men connected with the Glory Universal hate group, into custody under suspicion of organizing the attack. Although all evidence points to this tragedy being an attack and not an accident, our military must be better trained to address attacks inside the United States. I urge Congress to work on a bill that will coordinate cleanup and humanitarian efforts, anti-hate public awareness campaigns, and military training programs that will prevent plans for attacks like todays from slipping under the radar. Despite our differences, we must come together, united as brave Americans, in these troubling times of trial. Thank you.

To whom it may be concerned,

My name is Jabari Cooper, and I am a public relations representative from the US Department of Education. I am writing to you, a diverse group of students from around the world who have achieved high standing in education, because I have an exclusive opportunity for you that may enrich your lives and ignite your passions. I am pleased to announce that starting next Thursday, the USDE will be beginning a training program, headed by yours truly, for young leaders from around the world. As you are well-informed students, you may have heard about the increasing political polarization, hate, and denial of truth that has taken hold in the USA and is unfortunately spreading across the world to places such as Eastern Europe, the UK, and Brazil. And, of course, the recent devastating and unthinkable occurrences in Wyoming show that countering hate must be a priority for America. Therefore, the training program will be for choosing five of you to lead a public relations campaign that denounces hate, promotes diversity of identity and thought, and spreads factual information and science in this time of fake news. The lessons, ads, and other creative projects you produce will be broadcast on a wide variety of mediums across the USA and world: these five positions are a path to International Fame. Other trainees, by the scores, will also be chosen to support the pr campaign: these positions are a path to diverse careers in media, education, and public service.

Although this is a very exciting opportunity, the training program is not for everybody. Trainees will be away from family and friends for the entire six-month training, and those of you selected to be part of the public relations campaign may be away from home for years. Trainees will only have limited time (two to three hours a day) to talk with family and continue online education at the university they are enrolled in. This program is intensive, as you all are studious, hardworking, motivated young people. Trainees will be allowed to dropout, but only at the high cost of being bound to secrecy about their involvement in the program.

To apply for the training program, all you must do is submit a brief 200-word essay about the importance of diversity as well as a sample of creative work and/or research. Submissions should be sent to the address on this letter or https://www.ED.gov/applynow and are due in three days. The 200 applicants selected will receive congratulations and further information from me. Thank you for considering this special USDE program, and good luck in your future endeavors.

Sincerely,

Dr. Cooper

San Francisco, California, USA

Mandy was still fielding questions outside the community center from fellow Allies when Aurora parked in front with her old Prius. Should the intersectional forces against climate change seek help from like-minded billionaires and politicians, with the fossil-fuel lobby being so powerful? How should climate change denial among poor white evangelicals be dealt with? And who should lead the movement? As Aurora signaled for her to hurry up, she quickly explained. As late capitalism was intimately coupled with ecological destruction, the neoliberal class would subvert plans to address climate change with their destructive ideology. Working people of all stripes should be vital members of the class struggle, so education is key, but many older people in the conservative bubble may never escape their delusions. As they are disproportionately affected by climate change and other forms of environmental prejudice, innovative and inspiring people from ethnic minority or LGBTQ+ communities should take the helm of the movement.

As Aurora's honking signaled her exit, Mandy questioned if her answers were sufficiently thorough. She should have mentioned how the “environmentalist” capitalist class hurt indigenous communities and animals in their quest to “conserve”, and the vital role of women in the movement. She wondered if the presentation skills learned in a liberal arts university could have helped her speak more clearly and efficiently today. She was heavily considering a few east coast schools, and almost got a full ride to Vassar, but even that school's cost was too much for Aurora to afford as a hairdresser and small-time book e-retailer. She wondered how the goddamn government and uni executives got away with putting so many young people in crippling debt.

The ride to drop Mandy off before Aurora headed to her hairdressing shift began as quiet as usual: Aurora was annoyed by Mandy's constant phone checking, but knew that it was just a Generation Z thing.

“You may want to look up, the sunset is dazzling purple tonight,” Aurora said as the two crossed the Golden Gate Bridge back into San Francisco.

Mandy, who always enjoyed good showings of color, finally glimpsed up. Her face, to Aurora's delight, lost its serious concentration in turned bright like it did when she was a little girl. The moment was fleeting, though, and Mandy looked down and said, “Sorry for my lack of relaying the meeting. I was just looking at the new Insta post by a few SNL actors about the Wyoming attack. They were making fun of the conservatives who are shocked when an attack is, like usual, done by crazy old white Christian men.”

“So... How was the meeting?”, Aurora asked.

“Pretty good as usual”, Mandy replied, Everyone likes the more interactive presentation style, and some really good art expressing anxieties about climate change came out of it. The intersectional approach is also something new for the group, and it's important to put climate change in perspective with other issues. I just wish something could be done before we have to adapt to instead of prevent massive detrimental environmental change.

“Well, we're on our way to 100% clean energy here in California, and the Climate Alliance is doing all it can to help reach the Paris Agreement,'' Aurora said.

“Fuck the neoliberal Paris Agreement, the corporate Climate Alliance,” Mandy retorted, “Pardon my language, but what we need is a Green New Deal and the banning of new production of nonrenewable energy right now.”

Aurora was used to Mandy's strong words. In fact, she agreed with many of them in principle. She just wanted to live her life in peace and hope, not anger. The conversation died down until they began passing one of Aurora's favorite places. Out of the blue, she began: “Did you know the Summer of Love took place around here? The Grateful Dead lived in one of those houses,” (she pointed), “and played their tunes in that park” (she pointed again).

“I like the Summer of Love. I just wish yesterday's hippies focussed more on justice than drugs, and didn't turn into today's ignorant, today’s bigots,” Mandy stated.

‘Well, I'm not going to reach her light side today,’ Aurora lamentingly thought.

When Mandy got dropped off, she picked up the mail before heading up to their apartment. She threw most of it away outside, as it was all corporate ads, but one letter stuck out. It was from the Department of Education: Even better, it was from a low-level bureaucrat. She read it through, and finally had some gap year plans. Although the training program seemed semi-corporate, its focus on diversity and truth is timely, and she believed Marxists can be involved in corporate projects if they actively subvert their capitalist aspects. If Aurora approved, she would apply, and if it was free or cheap she would do it. Meeting diverse people and making meaningful change are on her bucket list! She’d start writing tomorrow. ‘Maybe there is some hope for the world,’ she thought...

...Later, just after Aurora got home, Mandy heard the expected sobbing. She wanted to shut her aunt up. She had the evidence that her mother was an awful person. She could bring up her dragging Mandy to church, her silence when jocks and plastic girls in Casper bullied her relentlessly for her tastes in fashion and art, and most jarringly and terribly for silence when her father bloodied her after she came out.

However, Mandy did not yell. Aunt Aurora wasn't responsible for these actions, she wasn't even in the same state when they happened. She had different memories of her mother, and now wasn't the time to ruin them. Therefore, the cliches of love, of comforting, of the hippie summer, won out. Mandy walked to her aunt, wordlessly, and they cried and comforted each other to sleep.

Worcester, Massachusetts, USA

As he and his family sat on patchy but cozy couches to watch the President's announcement, Ryan was feeling joyful. He had made a point that got his class thinking, as he argued that even though some of their ideas were outdated, the Greek and Enlightenment philosophers were worth studying and admiring because of their revolutionary dedication to inquiry and their many ideas that are still useful today. He cited basic ideas of theirs such as Socrates’ insistence on asking questions and Montesquieu’s championing of political checks and balances as examples. He stated that people should study these thinkers as well as people from other areas of the world and women. He came home a little late, as he stayed after class to discuss with two classmates and his teacher further: his teacher commended him for the depth of his ideas and the strength of his argument style.

After the recorded telecast finished, the family took some deep breaths together. They knew this was likely an isolated incident and that they would be okay, but it's sheer scale was truly horrifying. Ana began the conversation by praying, “Dear Heavenly Father, watch over those who have passed today, those who are suffering, those who are grieving, those who are working for justice, those who are watching in solidarity. Keep them safe in this solemn hour. Amen.”

“Amen,” the men replied.

José stated, “I think Congress has finally found action that can be agreed on. Instead of focusing on the “security” of keeping asylum seekers out of the country, they may be preempted by this tragedy to actually boost work on security against criminals.”

Ana replied, “I share your overall outlook, but I wouldn't be surprised if common sense passes over them again and deadlock occurs, at least for a while.”

“I, for one, expect the humanitarian aid/radioactive clean up measures to be passed swiftly,” said Ryan, “but I think there's good reason to debate the anti-hate and military training measures. The word ‘hate’ has different meanings to different people, so these new measures need to be clear in defining the word, by limiting it only to wanting harm to come to another person or thinking of another person (for arbitrary reasons) as inferior. Also, people should be wary of “military training measures” as they may, but shouldn't, be used to expand weapons production, overseas involvement, and police militarization. They should just better prepare soldiers for domestic terrorist plots.”

“Good point,” his parents forwarded in unison.

“Our son thinks through it like a true leader again,” José stated, his face lighting up.

Anna smiled and winked at Ryan as she headed to the fridge, her face showing warmth and love. “Time for dessert!”, she exclaimed. The family kept their political discussions brief, wanting to be informed, but not overwhelmed.

However, as Ana baked her signature pumpkin whoopie pies, Ryan's mind continued to discuss. He wondered how the President's announcement would affect the polarization of sociopolitical discourse in the USA. On the one hand, many conservatives may distance themselves from the extreme parts of their ideology, seeing that Glory Universal (which from an article he was scrolling through is a right-wing semi Christian anti-government group) believed they would be successful by attacking a very conservative part of the country. On the other hand, true hateful extremists would be emboldened by Glory Universal’s twisted success, and many people on the left wing would make generalizations and claim that Glory Universal acted for all conservative Christians. On the third hand, the government's quick turnover in finding the attacks will fuel people to investigate “alternative narratives”.

All this thinking is very interesting, but also often depressing. It was best to relax for a bit. Ana passed out the whoopie pies, and it was time for some entertainment.

It was Star Trek night for the family, who loves philosophy and science fiction, and José asked, “The Next Generation or Deep Space Nine?”

“One of each,” Ryan excitedly replied, “but make sure the episodes are about diplomacy, not war.”

“We all need some agreement here,” Ana concurred. The men nodded.

After the credits rolled on the second episode, José handed Ryan a piece of mail. Ryan always hated it when his father gave him bank statements or ads he didn't need, but his father, probably rightfully, insisted that he should take responsibility for what is addressed to him. Because the mail was sometimes a kind note from family or friends or cool magazine offer, Ryan opened it. After reading its contents, Ryan saw an opportunity.

Even though he would never go to this program, the application prompt was just what he needed. He loved to write, as it made him feel productive and helped him get out of his thoughts. Although he believed diversity was important, he always felt that in the liberal bubbles he was part of, some types of diversity were valued over others, and generalizations abounded. He could finally put to paper his identity as a minority independent, a progressive believer in God, a person who is defined more by his love of intellectual thought, music, and film than his race, gender, or sexuality. Now his constant clarifications to his parents may be read by others - of course the essay would go up on his blog!

Venice, Veneto, Italy

The University of Bologna was a huge school. When walking through its historic buildings, high-tech centers, and busy alleys, Kevin really saw a person he knew. Being a commuter was tough enough, and his social anxiety limited his relationships further. However, he had gained a decent rapport with a group of fellow medical students and professors, especially those who specialized in aging.

Today, he had a three-hour session, but it would not be boring like usual. All the preparations were made, the human subjects board had approved their request, and the lecture material had been mastered. Instead of having a one-hour respite between frenzied note-taking session, Kevin would be doing hands-on work for the whole afternoon!

His class, the Physiology of Aging and Longevity, was conducting cutting-edge research on how different factors affect the aging of the brain. Today, his lab section, which was considering the effects of smoking on neurological health, was hosting 15 senior citizens who volunteered to have MRI scans. He has been chosen, as a successful student who had used MRIs before, to conduct the scans.

Overall, after the session ended, he thought he had done a solid job. All of the volunteers seemed happy, he made no major mistakes, and he had quality data that would be analyzed in the next lab section. Moments like these, when he was able to contribute hands-on, made him feel like he was making a difference, and that he would make a difference in his future career. His friends and mentors always praised his deftness and attention to detail when operating medical equipment.

After the lab finished, Kevin's American TA (teaching assistant) Julian Andrews and his friends Angelo and Luigi went with him for lupper at an eatery outside the main medical building. It was the best time of day to get a quick bite to eat, so Kevin ordered his favorite meal (bowtie pasta with asparagus) and sat down at a second story booth with views of the University's Majestic Renaissance architecture.

Julian plopped down next to Kevin, a ticket for an oversized bowl of spaghetti and meatballs in his hand, and stated, with a sigh: “Oh, am I glad that the tests for the study are finished.”

“Why?,” Kevin inquired.

“I can't stand secondhand smoke, and although our five smoking subjects weren't allowed to light up inside, I swear I could still smell it,” responded Julian. He continued, “and there was that loud non-smoking woman who thought she had the floor to ramble about xenophobic nonsense.”

“I can relate, but sometimes you just have to let them be who they are. For the most part, the volunteers were respectful and courteous,” responded Kevin.

As he finished, Angelo and Luigi sat down, seemingly chuckling at one of Angelo's puns. Angelo was Kevin's former roommate from the University of Venice, who is an environmental science Master's student who took the aging class at Kevin and Luigi's request, while Luigi was Angelo's best friend from high school who is aiming to become a surgeon. Angelo brought much-needed light and fun to Kevin's first year at Bologna, accompanying him to many a soccer game, museum, or eatery, while Luigi was one of the most inquisitive and gentle people he knew, who always provided nuance and manners: yet Luigi had space in his heart for joking, if just a little.

Angelo, who had apparently overheard the end of Julian and Kevin's conversation, stated: “People like that racist woman, who spouts lies about the “backwardness and violence” of refugees who truly face some of the worst hardships imaginable, make me wonder why we do research about finding ways to help old people at all.”

Julian and Luigi murmured in half-laughter, until Kevin quietly left his seat. They looked up, wondering why he had left and showing concerned faces: Kevin then quietly mumbled that he needed to go to the restroom.

“It's Angelo's comment that they should be concerned about,” Kevin thought with the hint of aggravation as he passed the restrooms and headed up a floor to the University mailroom. Kevin's anxiety, but also his concern for all people, often pushed him away from situations with cynical commenting like the one that Angelo sparked. He knew Angelo had his heart in the right place, that some of the things the woman had said were indefensible. The fact that right-wing anti-immigrant Internet personalities go to the Mediterranean and cause migrants to drown by harassing NGO boats is reprehensible and is contrary to his Catholic values. But his faith also tells him to empathize with all people, and he could see where the old woman's rhetoric came from. She had said she was currently unemployed, and volunteered for the University study solely to get money, in a situation Kevin knew was similar to many other Italians. She saw migrants (of whom many were fleeing from economic/environmental Conditions in the Sahel that were worse than the ones she faced, although not as bad as the horrors of war that refugees from Syria and Iraq were facing), as competitors for potential jobs. Kevin knew that with more equitable economic policy, both the woman and well-meaning migrants could find jobs, but corporate-conservative media had probably blinded her of this truth. Besides, Angelo's claim that her beliefs were a problem of old people are ridiculous: he had heard the same rhetoric from his peers in high school, while his grandparents did not feel like the old woman at all.

As he opened his small mailbox, surprisingly there was a letter in it: most times his physical inbox was empty, with Email cutting down on paper use across the world.

Luigi approached the mailboxes, and kindly stated: “Angelo is sorry for what he said. He didn't know it would hurt your feelings.”

Kevin used some courage and stated: “I wish he was sorry, not for me, but because what he said mischaracterizes the elderly. It's pretty much ageism.”

Luigi replied, “I know he doesn't mean it that way.”

Kevin responded, “but our political climate doesn't justify him saying things like that, as crazed leftists could take it literally and actually block useful measures that help all from being passed.”

“I agree, I'll tell Angelo that, said Luigi,” and he patted his friend on the back, leading him into an evening of friendly adventure, hiking in the hills of Villa Ghigi.

Once home late that night, Kevin opened the letter. Angelo and Luigi had come with him to stay overnight, and were talking about promotion and relegation in Serie A with his parents when he retreated to the living room. After reading the letters contents, he laughed and handed it to Luigi.

“It's for the same social justice awareness program in America. It sounds cool, but there's no way I'd ever travel there for long. Too much conflict in too much greed,” he said.

Luigi peered intensely at the letter, as Kevin kissed his mother goodnight.

Durban, KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa

“Well, this looks stupid,” retorted Khayone as he folded up the first letter in today’s pile. “It just looks like another communist force hidden under liberal terminology.”

“Well, let me read it,” said Junior, always annoyed at not seeing the full picture. He had just entered the apartment, his fedora jangling with coins after a successful day of busking outside the bunny chow shop. After glancing at the letter, his strong, flexible fingers creasing the paper, he grinned and said, “You know what, this actually seems pretty cool. It’s a shame it doesn’t have music and is an Ed. Department, not a private, venture, but you can at least appreciate the defense of science, Khayone.”

“Sure in part, but the diversity-minded SJWs like Mr. Cooper support lies like women having no physical differences to men and “body positivity” for morbidly obese people that are as pseudoscientific as climate change denial and “alternative” medicine,” replied Khayone.

“Anyways, the USDE is a socialist program designed to stifle freethought and promote groupthink, through mechanisms such as Common Core,” said Lubanzi with a yawn. He was waking up, after falling asleep to Rousseau, with the noise sparked by the letter.

William entered, returning from his 6:15 pm International Relations class. His voice filled the small apartment as he dropped textbooks and pizza on the table, signalling as usual the beginning of evening debate. “So we talked about the Wyoming Incident in all class, skipping our study of the rise of authoritarianism. Professor Masaudo couldn’t overcome our class’ fever to talk about the nuclear explosion, despite his bureaucratic tendencies,” William began.

“I actually think you didn’t miss much, as rising authoritarianism in the USA could have led to “Glory Universal” thinking that the moment was theirs. Have you guys read the terrible stories from ex-members of the cult/hate group that came out in the MSM after the attack. They frankly bring back some terrible memories in me,” stated Lubanzi, who was beginning to show nervousness. He had a hard time talking about his father’s cult, shedding tears many a time, so his friends knew when to be sensitive to his needs and change the subject. After all, they’d been through their own hardships.

“I noticed that Lubanzi had somehow awakened when I came in,” said William inquisitively, switching course. “What were you guys talking about that disturbed him?”

“Oh, just a letter for a cool program in, it just happens to be, America that Khayone almost threw away,” retorted Junior playfully.

“Hey, it’s cool for Marxist losers and neoliberal posers,” replied Khayone with as much gusto.

William gave a face that showed control, concern, and calm, dispelling the discussion before it could turn wild.

“Way to kill the vibe,” Junior spoke, “What’s up?”

“Who is the letter addressed to? Is this something we can apply to?,” asked William, assertively.

“It’s addressed to all of us,” said Junior, “but I honestly have only skimmed it.”

“Yep, there's a brief essay plus a submission of creative work and/or research,” said Khayone, ready to move on to something else.

“That means I could provide a drum solo!” said Junior, excited.

“Here you are,” said Khayone begrudgingly, taking the letter off the table and handing it to William. “Now you can see just how coo-coo Junior is, buying into this nonsense.”

Silence enveloped the apartment once again as Lubanzi returned to Rousseau, Khayone watched Scishow Space and John Michael Godier, Junior watched John Bonham go crazy on “Moby Dick”, and William scanned the letter carefully, making sure he understood what agenda its writer may have. After a few minutes, Lubanzi and William quietly switched readings.

Lubanzi soon looked up from the letter and said to William, “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Probably, although I don't believe in your telepathy nonsense,” replied William.

The two whispered for a while, and William soon began his formal statement, prompting Khayone and Junior to take off their headphones. “Lubanzi and I actually agree with Junior here.”

“How can that be?,” commented Khayone, puzzled and exasperated.

“Well, as much as science deniers and SJWs are wrong, we have to defend their rights to express their views. Rational values must win through their proponents convincing with conviction in the Marketplace of Ideas. I think we have an opportunity to convince some SJW's that we have some points with this essay, that anti-apartheid South Africans appreciate Quillete without supporting some racist, nasty, stereotypical, prejudiced, strawman commentators on the site. The essay will at least be a good exercise, although it's a huge decision if we want to attend the training program if they don't cancel us.”

“Fine. I still think it's a bullshit regressive program, and we're never going to accept going to “training”, AKA brainwashing, but I can entertain writing an essay. This scientist needs some training in that field,” replied Khayone, resignedly, with a sigh.

“Oh!,” exclaimed William in his outside voice, which his friends constantly reminded him about (to no avail). “there's a note on the back of the letter. We can write a joint essay!”

“Easy. Our minds will work together,” said Lubanzi, as he adjusted his pick in his afro.

“Agreed,” the others responded.

The friends got to work, discussing how they would frame their argument as the sun set on the Durban skies.

Shenzhen, Guangdong, China

Alim finally gave in. He, with a tear pouring down his cheek, downloaded the VPN his acquaintance Ouyang Aoyun told him his American friend used. The PRC did not like this software, which allowed him access to foreign, imperialist propaganda he had little interest in. However, he was, surely temporarily, disillusioned with the PRC’s attitudes towards Islam, and Wang told him that he should go elsewhere; he might as well learn about foreign events from local sources, even if the counterrevelutionary bias would be great.

He prayed earlier that day, thanking Wang and the other managers for preventing his arrest and hoping they would not be arrested themselves. He needed to find a new path, in his homeland or abroad, or his situation could get much worse. He had trust in his practical skills and faith in Allah to see him through.

In his small, cluttered, one-room apartment were several pieces that showed his passion for the party. A poster with the message “Party First, Progress First: A Prosperous Future Awaits” hung above his desk.

‘Well, I guess that China isn’t for me’, he thought. He looked to his left and saw a poster that made him even more cathartically agitated. It was of the President, the General Secretary of the Party, his squinting, awkward face. Alim didn’t know why he had it: after all, as a Muslim, he shouldn’t have idols. After the VPN finished downloading, therefore newly determined, he stood up, causing papers to tumble to the floor, and and he ripped the poster of the Leader, albeit carefully and methodically, off the wall.

But moments later, the determination subsided into weakness as he crumpled on the floor: he realized the Leader’s face was not the focus of the poster. It was a quote of his below the picture, one borrowed from Confucious. It wrote:

“He who rules by virtue is like the Pole Star, it maintains its place, and the multitude of stars pay homage”

He loved this quote because it aligned well with his religious beliefs, with all people being under Allah, but Allah watching over all of them justly. He calmed down, scrolling through an app on the President’s thought, and took a few breaths. He nodded in agreement as he meticulously read the common sense words, and thought that he could make things work here in China, moving north and taking an unassuming job.

He got up from his midday prayers, taking out his precious prayer rug that Seypulla had given him. The Persian imagery of the rug was marvelous, and he felt at peace when he used it to pray. Feeling refreshed and rejuvenated after study and prayer, he started his exercise routine. But as he was on his second rep of weights, the ugly feeling came back to him. As hard as he tried to think himself out of it, he had to face the truth that as China was currently governed, he didn’t belong. His country and his faith were both important to him, but the less important of the two was threatening the more important one. Anyways, even if he moved across China, he would still be leaving behind his apartment, his work, Li and his other coworkers. He would have to take the long road, leaving his homeland to gain the skills to come back and improve it. But what would be his first step on this path?

A few hours later, after he began to pack his valuables (his prayer rug, his posters, his weights, his toolkit, and of course his essentials for hygiene), he sat down at his laptop to set up the Google Account that the VPN allowed him to make but Party doctrine forbade. He was now officially, but reluctantly, a rebel.

Two days later, as he sold off the last of his non-portable and replaceable items to unassuming neighbors, he realized how much he would miss them (despite not knowing them very well). The homely, welcoming, slightly overweight Zhi Ruo, to whom he sold his sheets and silverware, Qing Shan and Ru Shi, a couple who were very grateful to find a cheap bed, and their son Shu, whose face lighted up in excitement when he first got his hands on Alim’s Yao Ming poster. These were the people he wanted to show the beauty of Islam to, but today was not the day. He would try to make contact with them in the future.

He sat down to check his laptop under a jacket after he double-checked to make sure everyone had left. He checked his new accounts, searching for anything mildly attractive to do abroad. He was about to give up when he checked his Gmail; although he thought Google’s search service was half-decent (it was of course inferior to Baidu), the Gmail interface was not at all visually appealing. There were several junk messages, with only one primary message in his inbox. But after he read it (and deleted the junk), he had a possibility. The message was for some crappy US government program about the importance of so-called “diversity”. He could live with that, though, when the program also deals in part with science (attached to it was a special invitation to apply for an engineering segment of the program) and, most importantly, gives him the opportunity to attain the fame he needs to gain influence in China at his young age.

Also, ever since his first read of the Party Doctrine enlightened him to the value of expression in public relations and his recent watching of the American film “Catch Me if You Can” sparked an interest in con-artistry, the time in America could be a blast. He could pretend to be the American steryotype of Asians, a nerd with scientific knowledge (which he does have) but no political opinions, and he could do some heavy lifting to find a connection within the Communist Party (perhaps a Muslim like him). He had time to iron out the details; for now he will have to write. His 1.25 hour smuggling into Macau was scheduled for tomorrow. He prayed to Allah for forgiveness, as it was all to advance his faith.