The End of Eden (Water Worlds 1)

Chapter 2

2 

Father was Chinese on his mother's side and he would often speak of the miraculous accomplishments of the great Chinese people. He said, more than once, that they were among the most blessed and privileged of nations. Sometimes he would go on and on for what seemed like hours about it, too.

I used to get uncomfortable and wished he would lower his voice. Our walls were thin in Wonsan and school taught us that this kind of talk was treason, even from your parents. Especially from your parents. Every screen was two-way and you never knew if someone was watching.

China was technically our friend, it was true, but Teacher said the Dear Leader would know if you didn't pay proper respect to the glories of the Homeland, and he could get very cross with you if he found out.

Father scoffed when I told him. He said being polite to your neighbor didn't make us any less a great people, and that made sense to me, but I was just a child.

It was true that the world looked up to China back then. For one thing, China was a leader in the space sciences, which so interested Father. Even our little Korea had plans to put people in space, but China already had dozens of astronauts — yuhangyuans — in orbit and on the Moon. There was a small base on Mars, too, being built by robots, and bigger stations, the ring cities, were planned.

The West had seemed to lose interest. Once, in a long speech they screened for us in school, our Dear Leader carefully explained how the spoiled Americans and the snobby Europeans and even the cursed Japanese had long since run out of money and popular will to keep up the pretense of space exploration. Then he grew loud and angry.

"One lost space station, a few dead astronauts and their entire space industry collapsed! What did they know about sacrifice in the name of the People?" He nearly shouted it.

He knew his people would endure any sacrifice asked of them. We had no choice.

"Instead," he continued, "they settle for a few aging telescopes and the occasional robot launched to some moon in a distant part of the Solar System, while the great and glorious Korean People are destined to conquer the very planets themselves!"

So said our Dear Leader.

The video ended with a rising cheer in the background, recorded from some long-forgotten celebration, no doubt. The great Patriotic Song, Aegukka, played by an unseen orchestra, soared as the screen blended into red, blue and white bars. The red star in a white circle floated above, then blended into, the rippling colors. I was always moved by the sight of that flag, and I remember feeling a chill of pride.

As far as I knew, we never actually launched any people into space. Father would have told me. He told me everything. He worked for the Democratic Peoples' Republic of Korea Space Agency and helped design and test our defensive missile system. He oversaw the launch of many kinds of military rockets and worked closely with Chinese engineers, who came to offer guidance.

All for peace and progress, of course.

Once, when he was in a particularly generous mood, Father confided in me. I think he may have been drinking. Was it on the New Year? I can't remember. He said his real love was artificial intelligence. I had no idea what that was, then, but I knew it must have been important because Father liked to dream big.

Looking back, we led a relatively luxurious life. For Koreans.

I attended the Kim Jong Un Revolutionary School and learned the songs and poems of our Dear Leader, and was taught to translate them into other languages so that people around the world would learn of his glory.