Chapter 2

2071 A.D.

“Ambassador Anderson, so nice to meet with you at last. I had hoped that we would meet at some point. I am a fan of your earlier scientific work.”

Sharra Anderson smiled slightly as the sincerity of the Chinese diplomat registered. Hers was an unusual posting. Or it would have been before the onset of the Dark Times as everyone was now calling the age in which they lived. But science was viewed as paramount in the quest for stabilization of the population and the rebuilding of civilization after the Reaper Virus had done its damage.

Sharra had been a mechanical engineer with a specialization in biology in her previous career before President Paulson had tapped her to run the State Department. Sharra had been the lead engineer on a medical device hailed as ground-breaking as the works of Jonas Salk, the inventor of the original polio vaccine. The Bio Systems 100, released eight years ago in 2063, was a fully automated blood analysis machine that was capable, albeit not very quickly by modern standards, of discovering everything modern science that could be determined about the body via a blood sample, from any recent illnesses and medical conditions to what viral pathogens to which one had developed antibodies. It was ground-breaking science, and Sharra was very proud of her contribution to humanity’s quest to survive.

What had sealed the deal in her selection had been a minor degree in political science (to appease her grandfather the professor of political science at Yale, who paid for her education) when she had attended Harvard some seventeen years ago. Now at the age of forty-one, she was an up-and-coming diplomat who could speak to the political and scientific issues that would come up.

“Mr. Yin, the pleasure is mine. Thank you for the invitation.” She shook the outstretched hand calmly before walking along with the urbane, polished gentleman who ran the Chinese embassy in London.

Sharra Anderson was the ambassador to the U.K., a critical research partner in the quest for a path out of the Dark Times.

There had been no diplomatic, political, or economic relationship between the US and China ever since it was discovered that the original Covid-19 virus and several of its dangerous variants had all been engineered in the Wuhan lab that everyone suspected had been the point of origin for the pathogen that had kicked off the entire pandemic. A strategic leak to the meat market nearby had been the intentional start of something of which the Chinese had almost instantly lost control.

When it was determined from a credible source that the escape, which was eventually confirmed to be intentional as a political and economic weapon against the west, had been intentionally covered up for nearly four months (while China attempted to be the first to develop a vaccine and therefore be out front of the recovery process in a ploy for economic and political supremacy), the fallout from the rest of the world had been severe.

It was at the height of the Reaper pandemic in 2024, international Internet access to China was shut down as ISPs everywhere initiated a networking configuration known as ‘black-hole routing’ to drop all traffic to and from the Chinese mainland. This effectively blocked all communications between China and the western world except for a few cables that still carried traditional telephone lines. Countries that maintained their connectivity with China were threatened with, and even subjected to, a black hole of their own Internet traffic, resulting in a very rapid compliance with the international embargo.

Russia quickly followed China onto the embargo list for their part in the misinformation campaign that caused nearly a third of the rest of the world’s population to not get vaccinated immediately, and then the invasion of Ukraine and the use of chemical weapons there. North Korea also found itself on the list.

As a result of the breakdown in international communications, cooperation, and commerce, most countries had closed their borders to all but the most important travel, such as that where diplomatic and international economic issues were at state. China was no different and was quite a bit more restrictive in their travel regulations. Virtually no one without diplomatic credentials was allowed in their country. And anyone that was allowed in was only allowed to go from the airport to their own embassy. Since China expelled the entire US diplomatic mission from their country when the Internet was shut down, there was no embassy for anyone in the US to go to, so no US diplomats had been in China in nearly twenty years.

In the spring of 2028, purges began to spring up in the western world. People who had been found to be deliberately creating misinformation about vaccines and the viruses that were floating around had been some of the first to be brought to the recreated guillotines that had been assembled to deal with the rich hoarders, the politicians, the lawyers, and anyone else who stood in the way of survival. But there were others, and not all had been guilty. The tide of death and destruction raged on as personal vendettas were attended to.

Now Sharra Anderson’s thoughts returned to the present as the head of the Chinese delegation herded her into a rather large lounge with several comfortable chairs arranged around a pair of sofas that faced each other across a rather large coffee table. There was probably enough seating for a dozen people in the room, Sharra noted as she stepped through the door. Which was a good thing, she noted.

The room was occupied by five young women, who stood by the door at the opposite side of the room at a kind of attention. Shoulders back, arms down at their sides. Heads angled slightly to the floor in a deferential pose that went rather well towards hiding their anxiety. The five were dressed identically and looked remarkably alike to Sharra’s untrained eye.

“My daughters,” Mr. Yin said with some pride. “They have shown an interest in diplomacy, among other things. They are here to greet you.”

Sharra went down the row and greeted each of them individually, noting that they all seemed to be rather close in age.

Many parents all over the world had tried hard for a few decades now to have a son, which resulted in families growing much larger than had been once before. The current economic conditions were now more tolerant of many offspring as families gave birth to girl after girl while searching for that elusive boy child to help carry on the family name and to propagate humanity. It was obvious that Mr. Yin was one of those.

“How old are your daughters?” She asked politely after the two were seated. The five girls still stood against the wall. They all showed more anxiety than would be expected as the progeny of such a high-ranking official. It was a curious thing.

“They range in age from eighteen to twenty-seven. Each is about two years apart from their sister.”

“Ah. I see. Well, they are all beautiful girls.”

“Thank you. My daughters appreciate your kind words.” Mr. Yin cocked his head slightly, taking in Sharra’s slightly pale complexion.

“Forgive my directness, Ms. Anderson. But it appears that your people have still not managed to solve the food and nutrition crises that plague our world. Is that so?”

Sharra nodded. “We still carefully ration our resources. And we attempt to make up the missing nutrients as best we can. We all share what we have as much as possible so that as few people starve to death as can be.”

“A most ... socialist viewpoint, if I may say so.” Mr. Yin’s smile was a mix of humor and apology at the jest.

Sharra simply smiled it off.

Mr. Yin waved his daughters over to stand nearby.

“Tell me, which of my daughters do you see is most deserving of upholding my family’s honor?” The question came out innocently, but the five young women all seemed to tense up slightly before forcing themselves to calm down. It was a subtle thing, but Sharra was highly experienced at reading people.

“An interesting question. What is the consequence of answering this question?” Sharra asked with admirable outward calm, but her pulse sped up slightly as the tension in the room made it seem like the air was hotter than expected.

“The one you choose will be granted a place of honor in our family.” It was a vague response that was in keeping with the diplomacy of the day. Say much without revealing anything at all.

“I couldn’t do them, or your family, justice. I don’t know them, and I have no idea who is best suited to such a thing. It would be better to leave such a choice to someone who is better suited to the task at hand.” Sharra’s polite deferral was met with some resistance.

“For the political relationship we wish to build with your people, I humbly ask you to choose which of my daughters will be granted this honor.” Mr. Yin’s voice was tinged with something indecipherable.

The girls in question seemed to be striving to be serene, but Sharra guessed that there was more going on than she had been told.

“What is this honor?” She asked bluntly.

“It is a place of honor in our family and our culture. That is all I am able to say.”

“Very well, I will choose for you.”

The five girls all tensed up again at this exchange before they all seemed to calm down somewhat.

Sharra stood and looked them over, before saying, “Xiulan. I choose Xiulan.”

She waited to see what happened next. The four other girls who were not chosen seemed to sag, as if they were disappointed, but that was it. Then the girls all bowed to her carefully before walking gracefully to the door opposite that she had come in. When they exited, the door closed almost silently.

Mr. Yin stood and turned to Sharra. “I wish to walk through the gardens in the back of the embassy. It would be my honor if you would accompany me.”

“Of course.”

Sometime later, as they strolled through the well-appointed garden, Mr. Yin broke his silence.

“Thank you for choosing. Your choice brought honor to my family and to my daughter Xiulan.” They continued along the path at a somewhat sedate pace. Sharra nodded, choosing to be silent and wait to see what would be said next. The walk continued around a corner, where off to the side two gardeners were planting what looked to be some spectacular flowering plants.

“Those are orchids, yes? Like your daughter’s name? Xiulan means Beautiful Orchid if I remember correctly.”

Mr. Yin nodded, a brief amount of surprise passing across his countenance before a slight smile creased his face.

“We plant these orchids in honor of the choice of my daughter, Xiulan.” Nothing more was said for the moment. Then the walk continued on in companionable silence.

The Chinese embassy to the UK was located somewhat far outside of downtown London, at the request of the Chinese government. This allowed a much larger compound to be built. The gardens were extensive. At roughly one square mile, the cultivated land was surrounded by a twelve-foot-tall natural stone wall that was decorated in cultural iconography and art appropriate for the elements. There was also a man-made brook that flowed through the garden, weaving back and forth across the enclosure, lending to several foot bridges made in various ways that all honored traditional methods of construction. ‘It helped,’ Mr. Yin thought to himself.

The walk ended sooner than Sharra would have liked. She had covered only a small portion of the many paths that lead through the grounds before they made their way back to the main building. She was rather enjoying the peaceful time in the garden, she realized. Much more than she would have expected beforehand.

“It is time to share a meal. Will you join me, Ms. Anderson?”

One never turned down a meal. Even in this situation where a favor would most likely be owed.

“I would be honored to do so, Mr. Yin.”

A table had been prepared under a small, sheltered pavilion that was on a paver stone patio between the main building and the gardens. The daughters were the servers, working calmly and peacefully to provide for their needs while serving the courses as they came out from the kitchen.

As expected in the age of scarce protein sources, the first two courses were a salad and a vegetable. But the third was something else entirely.

A covered plate was placed in front of her. Sharra found her mouth was watering at the sight and, of course, the delightful smells coming from the platter when the cover was lifted. And when she was served, she couldn’t help but stare at her plate in anticipation. The meat course was paired with some green beans and some small potatoes, but she only had eyes for the main course itself.

She glanced up at Mr. Yin, who simply smiled and nodded towards her plate, picking up his own knife and fork.

She slowly cut into the meat, marveling at how tender and juicy it was. A well-cooked slight brownish glaze on the outside hid a delicate pink color in the very center of the cut. And when she put the bite in her mouth and tasted it, it was like an explosion of fireworks went off in her mouth.

Mr. Yin merely smiled at her enjoyment and ate his meal in silence.

At the end of the meal, when the desert had been served, she sat back carefully in her chair, enjoying the feelings the meal, her first meal with a meat protein source in nearly a year, had left behind in her.

When the meal was over, Sharra was encouraged to walk in the gardens ‘to settle her meal,’ something she gladly accepted. For well over an hour, she toured the beautifully manicured greenery, just enjoying the sights, the smells, and the sensations of the flowers, the trees, and the small brook that meandered through the area while she enjoyed the feelings of satisfaction and energy the wonderful meal had left in her. Then all too soon a middle-aged man in formal Chinese cultural attire led her back to the original conference room where she had met Mr. Yin’s five lovely daughters.

Once seated, she smiled at her host.

“Thank you, Mr. Yin. That was exquisite. And the service was delightful.”

“You are most welcome. My daughters wish to thank you for honoring me with sharing a meal.”

“Of course.”

Mr. Yin waved, and the daughters walked into the room once more. Only...

“Xiulan is not among them?” Sharra asked as she looked over the four women standing before them.

One of the young, beautiful women stepped forward and handed her father an electronic tablet, which he took graciously. Then she returned to stand with her sisters, their heads bowed respectfully towards the thickly carpeted floor.

Mr. Yin held the tablet in his hands while he contemplated the American woman that had just eaten an exceptionally fine meal with him. Then he smiled briefly.

“We all have made difficult decisions during these times. The Chinese people suffered immensely as we tried to survive what your news people call the Dark Times. But we found a way through things. Now, our people are fed, our population problems are stable, and because of this, our economy is beginning to recover.”

“If I may ask,” Sharra said tentatively, “How did you solve the food crisis? This is our most desperate need right now.”

Mr. Yin nodded. “Of this, we are aware. We are also aware that your population growth curves have recovered, and even more so, the numbers of your people are increasing at an alarming rate. We have plotted where your country will be, and within the next five to ten years, your government will once more be facing a food crisis of much greater proportions than you have seen since the beginning. Your people have not told you of this?”

Sharra shook her head. “I was not aware of that. How do your people know all of this without us being aware?”

Mr. Yin merely shook his head. “Polite people do not speak of such things that are only done in the shadows. And I am a polite person, as you are yourself.”

Sharra smiled before cocking her head once more.

“So, what is your solution to your food scarcity, and would it work for us? What have you found as a food source?” A suspicion began to grow in the back of her mind, but it had not fully gotten her full attention before Mr. Yin handed her the tablet.

“Perhaps this will show you another path for your people.”

She took the tablet and powered it on, where she was immediately confronted by an image of Xiulan, the sister that had not come with her sisters after the meal. It was in a media player, and she had a smile on her face as she looked into the video camera. She tapped the screen to start the playback.

“Ms. Anderson,” Xiulan said contentedly in flawless Oxford-accented English, “Thank you for choosing me for this great honor for my family.” The scene cut, and Xiulan was shown hugging her sisters as they all stood around her. Then they gently led her by the hand from the room they were in, while another unknown person carried the video camera closely behind them.

They went through a large door and into a very brightly lit kitchen area, where two women and a man in chef’s clothing waited. There, Xiulan stood calmly before bowing to the chefs and saying something to them in Mandarin that Sharra couldn’t recognize. They bowed back, acknowledging her statement, then stood passively while she started to undress.

The beautiful young Chinese woman stepped out of the last of her clothing and handed it off to her sisters, who set it into a basket off to one side. She was fit, conditioned, and normally endowed up top, with a somewhat sparse region of pubic hair covering her mons. As she watched, a strange anxiety began to gnaw at Sharra’s guts. She still didn’t understand what she was watching, but a slowly growing sense of horror in the back of her mind made her shiver slightly as she watched, suddenly transfixed.

One of the women in a chef’s uniform and what looked like a black rubber covering on her left arm up to her shoulder walked up to her and led her off to a corner of the room where the floor lowered about a half a foot to a gently sloping area about eight feet on a side, with half walls on the open side that came up maybe three feet. There was a drain in the middle of the recessed tile floor, and a strange apparatus was mounted to the ceiling and one wall, along with a sprayer head on a hose that indicated a cleaning station of some kind.

The chef that led her over there stopped her in the lower area, making sure she was okay as she stood off to one side, her right hand hand behind her off camera, and the left arm in front of Xiulan across her stomach. Xiulan shook her head for a moment, then she lowered her head and closed her eyes for about ten seconds. When she looked up once more, a gentle, serene smile had returned to her face, and she nodded.

Sharra’s guts began to roil, wondering what was going on, but the fear inside her for the young woman she had chosen to be honored was growing.

Before Sharra could speak, the chef moved her hand up Xiulan’s back, and a flash of electricity was seen at the back of Xiulan’s head and neck. She immediately crumpled forward and away from the electric charge like a dropped child’s toy. She would have fallen if the chef hadn’t caught her with her left hand and arm, and she quickly lowered the young woman to the floor.

The chef tapped a control of some kind on the inside of the half wall and a bar about thirty inches long with two looped cables on the ends lowered quickly and silently from the apparatus at the top. It came down and stopped at about a foot above the now unconscious young woman lying on her back on the floor.

Sharra involuntarily fisted her left hand and raised it to her mouth, her heart pounding. What was she watching here? Her mind was too overwhelmed to think clearly, and it was all she could do to continue to watch. She could not have looked away if her life depended on it.

The woman in the chef’s uniform efficiently attached the cable loops on the bar to Xiulan’s ankles and tapped another control, which caused the bar to ascend once more, pulling the nude body of the young woman upwards by her feet until she hung upside down, her hands a few feet above the floor. She was clearly unconscious, not moving at all, not even twitching.

The chef efficiently turned the body until she was facing into the corner, and a short-bladed knife suddenly seemed to appear in the chef’s hand. The person holding the camera moved as well, coming around to stand beside the corner where the front of the young woman’s neck and face were visible. Her eyes were closed, and she breathed shallowly, as evidenced by the movement in her upper chest.

Standing behind Xiulan, the chef moved, reached around, and with a practiced movement, made two vertical cuts into the sides of the hanging girl’s neck, causing blood to spray out onto the tiled wall.

Sharra almost dropped the tablet. She barely managed to keep from screaming as blood sprayed out into the corner wall of tile, pumping in what was clearly arterial blood flow. The chef calmly held the young woman in such a way that the spray of blood was directed into the corner and down onto the floor, where it ran down into the drain and disappeared.

A practiced movement brought the razor-sharp knife down to where the woman’s wrists hung, where two slashes opened up the veins there. Then another two movements of the obviously razor-sharp blade opened up the femoral arteries inside the top of the young woman’s thighs.

Something wet was running down Sharra’s face, and she wondered irrationally if it was raining indoors before realizing that it was her tears flowing down her face. The tablet started to shake, and then her whole body followed suit as she reacted to the brutal, senseless, but undeniably efficient killing of what had been a wonderful young woman she had met just a few hours ago. But she still could not look away.

It was clear that the young woman (‘Xiulan! Her name is Xiulan!’ Sharra screamed silently inside her mind) was dead. Her blood flow slowed then stopped entirely, and all that remained of as evidence of the life that had once inhabited the body was some random twitching that slowly faded away as the last of life’s electrical impulses died with her.

The woman pulled a powered spray bottle from a shelf inside the tiled area and sprayed down the body from toe to head. A small brush followed, and she lightly scrubbed the now-dead body down as well, before rinsing away whatever was sprayed and scrubbed into the skin of the body hanging lifelessly in the tiled corner. The woman then proceeded to use the sprayer handle to wash away the blood from the wall and the floor, directing it down the drain in the center of the recessed tile area.