Bald New World Read online

  We will immediately report any suspicious behavior to the teacher.

  Anyone threatening any other student, even as a joke, should be reported.

  On and on.

  Kelly came in as she was picking me up and said, “You better not tell Mom about Ian.”

  “Who’s Ian?”

  I found out a few minutes later. Ian smelled funny and had messy curly hair. The first thing he asked was, “Damn, your brother’s really ugly. You think I can rap about that?”

  “Rap about whatever you want,” Kelly said.

  Three days later, there was a rap online called “My Girlfriend’s Ugly Brother” that had pictures of me provided by my sister, making me the butt of all jokes at school. This was the jerk I had to visit every year.

  Traffic was bad. Helicopters were racing to a gun battle ahead and I heard the sirens from police bikes. Fortunately, helmets came with audio players and visual displays so I could block it out and watch the news. Most news channels were reported by young and attractive broadcasters who were practically naked on-screen and replaced every two months or however long ratings kept up with them. When the necessary one-minute global recap was finished, it was the usual splurge of man wants to marry his dog, woman had an affair with both her bosses, and prodigy can beat any videogame in ten minutes. Jesus the General commercials played on every channel and the latest episode declared, “Jesus takes on the Viet Cong and kicks ass.”

  “You know how it was written, turn your cheek. Well I say onto thee, turn your cheek and aim properly through the scope,” Jesus, played by actor James Leyton, declared. “I am the way, the truth, and your life or death, depending on how you answer my question.”

  “Do you believe?” a female voice asked as the commercial came to an end.

  That was followed by a Chao Toufa ad starring an obese young man shunned by all his friends. He bought a Chao Toufa wig and was immediately surrounded by beautiful people who revered him for his full head of hair. “It’s the most realistic hair in the world,” four attractive women declared.

  America was home to the most overweight people in the world. After the FDA got bought out by a fast-food chain, regulatory rules became a joke and the drivel that passed as hamburgers was deemed organic because they came from “living cows.” It was no wonder that Institute #348922, officially known as “The Center for Peaceful Recuperation,” was filled with the corpulent obese. I wasn’t talking a little overweight, but people who couldn’t even walk because they were so big. I’d always wondered where all the collective dumps they took went. That was a lot of crap to dispose of, even if used as fertilizer for the farms of the world.

  I got out of the cab. It was raining hard. I rushed to the front entrance where I signed in. The institute was a warehouse for people who couldn’t work because they couldn’t walk. It was as big as some convention centers and every person was allotted a space with a holopad so they could lose themselves in entertainment and commercials. The holopads were hooked into their wheel bikes without which they would have no mobility. Wheel bikes also served as bathrooms. Many had IV needles in them and the stench of junk food was horrific as much of it had been regurgitated or stuck as stains on their clothing. It was a pig sty for humans. Nurses and janitors cleaned up where they could, though most just flirted with each other and gossiped about trivia. Every piece of equipment had a logo for a food brand.

  Ian was watching a basketball game and didn’t notice I’d come. “Hey, Ian,” I said.

  He didn’t reply. He never replied. A stroke from all those cholesterols clotting his veins had caused permanent brain damage.

  Kelly was the only biological relation I’d ever acknowledged as “family.” Even though she was stubborn and pig-headed, I could never really be angry with her. She’d had a tough childhood and I understood why she was the way she was. Violence begat violence. A man had to murder his past to destroy the cycle. The whole history of humanity was violence so that this current motion towards peace could be considered an anomaly or quirk of circumstance. Since the early 20th century, Koreans were immersed in violence. First the Japanese Empire, then the North Koreans who sundered families apart. The Korean military rulers who took over after America established the demilitarized zone were a ruthless lot that crushed resistance, especially student protesters who believed they were fighting for a better world. Tie in Confucian ideals of following elders without question, and it almost explained why my biological father was an abusive control freak who beat us mercilessly as children. My whole childhood was a memory of escaping pain, doing my best not to incur his wrath. It was never associated with something tangible, like bad grades or bad behavior. Instead, it was random violence made worse by my mother who would scream that if I didn’t stop crying, they would kill me, my incomprehensible life blotted out in punches and kicks. As Kelly got older, she took on the brunt of the pain. When she couldn’t stop crying after watching a scary Chinese movie about walking corpses, my biological father beat her to a few inches short of death and locked her inside a cabinet afterwards. Kelly, rather than resisting, sat quietly inside without a murmur. That was even more terrifying. Was she okay? Was she living? Even now, I’m ashamed that I didn’t have the courage to check. She came out all right, but she didn’t speak for three months. At elementary school, the teachers thought she had a psychological problem and suggested special schools for her. A few convenient bribes silenced the teachers.

  Even now, I can’t refer to that man as a “father” without shivering, but rather the “biological father” who contributed chemicals to my birth. What makes me burn though wasn’t his actions, but the indifference of all those around me. I swore when I grew up, I would escape and make my own family. The Great Baldification meant freedom for me, the death of my past. It was the most welcome event of my life as my parents got divorced and left us in the care of Baochai. In my eyes, they were dead. I was reborn. I’d pave a new path.

  For Kelly, marrying this scumbag turned out to be a dead end. She couldn’t find herself so it was important to find her identity by reconnecting with our biological parents. That was the last thing I wanted. More than anything, I wanted a new family so that I could branch out on my own. That meant sundering any connection with the past and I did it, not caring what anyone else might think or say. I still hoped for a connection with Kelly, but she kept on insisting on drawing me back into a past I wanted nothing to do with. It became worse with moderate fame from our movies as people came out of nowhere, claiming a connection with my past and the family that I wanted to forget. I realized that the only way to really move on was to literally murder every part of the past. Every part. I didn’t talk to Kelly until she passed away, cut her out completely. Even though I missed her, I still didn’t regret my actions. My future family would be different. They wouldn’t have to suffer for my past. Linda was supposed to be the beginning of that.

  I tried talking with Ian for a while, knowing he wasn’t listening. Another pointless trip to feel sorry about myself. I checked my phone and saw Larry had called several times.

  “Sorry to break up your personal time,” he said when I called back. “Nice helmet.” He appeared chipper.

  “I’m done. What’s up?”

  “Can I ask you for a favor?”

  “I don’t think I can go on another date tonight.”

  He grinned. “Can you pick up a package for me? I’m sending over an address.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “A special gift for a special lady.”

  I groaned, remembering all the times I’d brought back “special” gifts for him. “This isn’t going to get me in trouble with the censors, is it?”

  He shook his head. “You’re coming back by private jet. It’s on standby. I also sent a car for you.”

  “Where am I going?”

  “Only if you’re willing. I won’t force you.”

  I grimaced. “Where am I going?”

  “The Absalom Institute of Hair.”<
br />
  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a research facility. One of the researchers, Dr. Asahi, will have something for you. But you need to make it before six.”

  “Why?”

  “Someone there I want you to meet,” Larry said.

  I was already heading out and a driver was waiting in front of the center with a black sedan. The rain had stopped, but it was windy and cold. I hopped into the backseat of the car and removed my helmet. “Someone?” I continued with Larry.

  “You said you wanted to meet someone crazy. I thought, why not kill two rats with one spoon?”

  “Are you sending me on a blind date?”

  “Connection’s getting fuzzy, can’t hear you,” and the communication ended.

  As we got on the freeway, I saw four separate apartment complexes on fire. Everywhere I looked, the buildings were dilapidated. I couldn’t help but wonder, Los Angeles, how is it you look worse every time I come back?

  II.

  Larry had never actually arranged a blind date for me alone (he always accompanied me) so a part of me was curious what kind of a girl she was, even though I already knew what I was going to tell her. “Thank you, but I’m not interested in dating at this time.” Especially not while I was in Los Angeles.

  We headed towards the San Fernando Valley via the 5 Freeway and the driver pointed out the new suit and wig that were waiting in the back. I had no interest in either, though I did feel the wig which was a marvel. It was hard to believe they got horse hair to feel this real. I put it back as I never accepted anything from Larry unless it was for official business. He already had a thousand sycophants and I wanted to maintain a line of balance between us as friend and employer.

  The Absalom Institute of Hair was fenced off and isolated among a series of hills. We had to go through three security gates, passing by two massive parking lots. I was disappointed that what awaited was a plain-looking building painted brown with curtained windows. Why was this building so closely guarded? Aside from a lawn and three people smoking out front without armor, there wasn’t any indication of something special. I stepped out of the car and it was blazing hot, even though the sun was going down. The clouds had dissipated. I walked through the front door and came to a lobby with copied Impressionist paintings on the wall. There were metal chairs that looked uncomfortable, several doors in the hallway, and a lady at the reception desk who looked up at me. It reminded me of a doctor’s office. “You’re late,” the woman said. “I’ve been waiting thirty minutes. You don’t need armor in here.” She was wearing a brunette wig and had a Eurasian look to her. I didn’t know if it was the makeup or her natural complexion, but the texture of her skin was tanned, a brownish hue that made it seem like she’d had been exposed to just the perfect amount of sun. She had a big forehead and a strong jaw that puffed out her cheeks and made her face seem square. She was wearing a dress that looked brand new, a cross hybrid between a yellow cardigan and red skirt. It looked like she’d prepared for our meeting and I wondered if she was disappointed at the sight of me in my armor. She stood up and was several inches taller than me. “Should we go?”

  She led and I followed, taking off my helmet.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To eat,” she said.

  We went through the third door on the right, then the second door on the left, through the hall, down a set of stairs to a room with ten round dining tables. The food was already prepared on our corner table—salad and tofu steaks. “This is where we usually greet outsiders without security clearance,” she explained. “I hate eating out in California. Just to get to the restaurant, you have to pay a parking fee, 35% state tax, and 25% tip on top of the meal.”

  I nodded knowingly as we sat down and started to eat. “Where is everyone?”

  “In the lab, down below,” she said.

  I assumed the underground structure beneath the building was the reason for all the security. “What goes on down there?”

  “Actually, I’ve never been so I don’t know the specifics.”

  “How long you work here?” I asked.

  “Almost three years now but it’s very hush hush. Still, I’ve always wanted to work in hair so I don’t mind.”

  “Why hair?”

  “My mom used to own a chain of hair salons but after the Baldification, all her stores were finished. We grew up real poor like everyone else in the hair industry and I just wanted to understand what caused the whole mess. Larry speaks very highly of you. He tells me you film all his movies?”

  I nodded. “He saved me from a life of mediocrity.”

  “Oh?”

  “We served together in Africa and after I was discharged, I got a job working as a digital pusher at SolTech. It was hell. I mean, the army, I got that I had to follow orders. But the politics were even worse at SolTech. Larry gave me a chance to be independent and I enjoyed shooting his films.”

  “I like Mr. Chao’s films. The lighting and the cinematography are beautiful.”

  I was surprised that she had seen them. “Thank you. Do they-do they study the Baldification here?” I asked, curious about the facility.

  “Mr. Chao didn’t tell you?”

  I shook my head. “He just told me to pick up a package.”

  Confusion flitted across her face. “He told you about this dinner though?”

  “Actually, he mentioned it while I was on the way here.”

  She sighed. “Mr. Chao and Dr. Asahi spent the last month hounding me about this. I finally agreed because she told me you were begging to meet me.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not true. I gotta be honest. I-I just got out of a marriage,” by which I meant a few years, “and I’m not ready for a relationship. I’ve told Larry that several times.”

  “I have no interest in relationships either,” she said. “I’m focused on my career. But Mr. Chao told me you were so depressed that if I didn’t meet with you, you might do something extreme. I can see that isn’t true. Besides, you’re too short for me. I don’t like short guys.”

  “I don’t like women taller than me,” I replied, peeved by her comment.

  “That’s settled then. I don’t want to waste my time. Why don’t we just eat dinner and go?”

  “Why even have dinner? I can just take the package and go.”

  “Even better. I was only being respectful to the chefs because they prepared the food.” She picked up her plate, said, “Stop by my desk after you’re done,” and left the room.

  I called Larry.

  “How’d it go?” he asked eagerly.

  “I was expecting someone a lot crazier.”

  Larry laughed. “You know I like messing with expectations.”

  “Is that why you told her I was depressed and begging to meet her?”

  “Rebecca’s as stubborn as you are,” Larry answered. “She’s been divorced four years and she still hasn’t moved on. Just like you. I needed to give her motivation.”

  “My situation is different.”

  “Oh c’mon, man. You know you’ve been moping too long. You haven’t even been with another woman since Linda. That’s a really long time. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

  “Hey, man. That was in confidence. You can’t use that against me,” I protested.

  “I’m not using it against you. I’m just stating my—amazement at your abstinence.”

  “Forget it,” I said. “What is this place?”

  Larry shook his head. “Can’t tell you over the phone. I’ll tell you when I see you. You have the package?”

  “Not yet. I was about to go grab it. You want me to drop it off when I get in?”

  “Yeah. I’m visiting the factory today so I’ll have someone pick you up.” Larry stared at me. “Bro, at least give her a chance, will you? You worry me.”

  “We had an argument.”

  “Over what?”

  “Over nothing.”

  “Haven’t you learned there is no such thing as
victory in an argument with a woman?”

  “Too late,” I said. “See you later.”

  I ate the tofu steak by myself. Despite my irritation with the situation, it tasted really good which lightened my mood.

  III.

  Back in the lobby, Rebecca was finishing her meal.

  “Is the package ready?” I asked.

  “It’ll be coming soon,” she said. “You can take a seat and I’ll let you know when it comes.”

  I sat down and the seat was so hard, it hurt my butt after sitting about a minute. I stood up and put my helmet back on to watch some news. There was a special on serial killers that had never been caught in California; the Zodiac Killer, the Red Wig Snatcher, and the Yearly Killer. I got tired of the perpetual advertisements and took the helmet off, rubbing my scalp because it was itchy.

  “You live in L.A. or you fly in?” I asked Rebecca.

  “I fly in on the weekends.”

  “From?”

  “Shanghai,” she answered, then went back to reading a document on her holopad.

  “How do you like L.A.?”

  She simpered up at me. “I really hate chit-chat. So unless you have something important, let’s skip it.”

  Her phone rang and she picked up. “He’s here.” She nodded several times. “No, nothing. I’m sure of it.” Shortly afterwards, she hung up. “Dr. Asahi’s on her way up.”

  Dr. Asahi was an older Japanese woman who didn’t bother with a wig and wore square glasses which was a surprise as almost no one in Los Angeles wore glasses other than as a fashion accessory (everyone got their eyes lasered). She wore a leathery yellow overcoat that looked like it was assembled from snake scales and she was carrying a small capsule that was about the size of my thumbnail. Her nose curved inwards to form tiny nostrils that made her face seem almost noseless.

  “I’m completely stumped how he got this,” she said. “I can understand why he sent you to pick it up directly. That’s all the data he asked for.” She turned to Rebecca. “Give him your card.”