Rebirth 2004: A lone figure in the literary world

Chapter 437 America's Deadly Crisis

David Miller was wide awake now. He made himself another cup of coffee and sat in front of his computer for a while, lost in thought.

In just a few minutes, his thoughts had shifted from the "hippie movement" that swept across America in his youth, to the "hip-hop culture" of his middle age, and then to the increasing number of neighbors of different races in his neighborhood...

He had to admit that, historically, the timeframe set for "Run for Governor"—2020—coincided precisely with a new cycle of socio-cultural movements.

This seems to be a pattern.

He was just wondering why Zhang Chao, who wasn't American, could so keenly sense that the cycle was approaching.
At the same time, I also thought about the increasing number of literary expressions from Asia, Africa and Latin America that I see as an international literary editor. Unlike those from Europe and South America, writers there seem to understand the preciousness of life and the pain of the soul better.

Like Zhang Chao, who is clearly a young man in his twenties, he seems to be burning himself out as soon as he rises to prominence, seemingly not caring whether he should save some inspiration for later.

He knew that many writers, even after becoming famous, would spend months or even years writing a short story.

No established writer, especially in the realm of serious literature, has ever been so prolific. Even in popular literature, writers become more protective of their reputation after achieving fame, and it's common for them to spend years honing their craft.

They have money, prestige, and connections, allowing them to do whatever they want—buy a large estate and live in seclusion; become a literature professor at a university; squeeze into high society and attend parties every day; enter politics and run for a seat in parliament; and of course, some go into business…

Some people simply lived a life of debauchery and excess, completely relying on the endless royalties from their past works to make a living.

Zhang Chao's creative passion was something he had only vaguely seen in Stephen King—but even King himself hadn't worked this hard when he was young.

As a seasoned publisher, David Miller certainly appreciates seeing bestselling authors with such a strong work ethic, as this is essential for generating sufficient profits for the publishing house.
But as a literary editor and the writer's closest friend, he was also very worried that Zhang Chao would burn out his creative passion in a short period of time, which would be a loss to the world literary scene.

However, Zhang Chao's novels do have an extraordinary charm, and even he himself is unable to tear himself away from them.

The stark contrast between the fervor of the election campaign and the plight of "Wei Laosan" touched the softest spot in his literary aesthetics.

Old Wang sneaked into Wei Laosan's work shed like a thief, shoving a cold, greasy lunchbox into his hands. Inside were some boiled beans with little oil and some hard bread. Wei Laosan wolfed it down.

"Eat slowly! Are you a starving ghost reincarnated?" Old Wang muttered under his breath, then mysteriously pulled out a tablet from his pocket, opened the video of Catherine submitting her candidacy documents today, and paused the video on the close-up of the document bag.

"Look, this is it... I don't even know who filled it out for you!" Old Wang's voice was even lower, filled with a lingering fear of surviving a disaster. "Now we're in big trouble! It's a complete mess over there, nobody's actually checking if the contents of this bag are real or fake! They're all playing dumb!"

With his mouth full of beans, Wei Laosan stared blankly at the file folder, then at Lao Wang.

Old Wang pointed to the words "Candidate: Wei Laosan" printed on the document bag, and then to the distorted signature of "Wei Laosan": "Look! Just based on this piece of paper, and that 'birthplace of courage' that those lunatics made up for you as your address... You! Wei Laosan! Now you're a legitimate gubernatorial candidate! On par with those big officials who spit on TV every day!" Old Wang's expression was a mix of crying and laughing, full of bizarreness and incomprehension.

Wei Laosan swallowed his food with difficulty, his gaze scanning the densely packed, seemingly incomprehensible English forms. He only recognized his own name, printed on them in a strange spelling. He asked hoarsely, "What...what does this mean?"

Old Wang scoffed, slamming his finger into the screen: "What does that mean? It means this says you, Wei Laosan, patted your chest and guaranteed you're an American! You've lived in California for seven years! You're qualified to be governor! What a load of bull! That's just someone else bragging about you! They've blown your brains out of proportion!"

Wei Laosan's hand trembled, and the lunchbox nearly fell to the ground. An American? Seven years in the US? Governor? These words burned into his brain like a red-hot iron. Fear gripped him again, more concrete and immense than ever before. This was no longer the fist of a street thug, nor the detention center of the immigration bureau, but a terrifying behemoth called "law" and "election" that he couldn't comprehend at all. He seemed to see himself standing on the edge of an abyss, his feet treading on that thin piece of paper made of lies, ready to shatter at any moment.

"Then...what should we do?" His voice was filled with despair and tears.

"What do we do?" Old Wang roughly shoved the tablet back into his arms, his eyes fierce yet helpless. "Just let it be! Right now, the whole prefecture treats you like a god! Who the hell dares to say you're fake? Anyone who does will die! Even those who want to investigate you will get themselves into trouble first! Just continue being your mute god! Hide! Endure! Wait for this storm to pass! Remember, whatever you do, whatever you do, don't let anyone find you! You're more precious than a panda now, and more dangerous than a wanted criminal!"

Old Wang hurried away, like a drop of water merging into the darkness of the junkyard. Only Wei Laosan's heavy breathing and the rustling of rats gnawing on scrap metal remained in the shed. He looked down at his rough, greasy hands—hands only good for carrying bricks and applying cement. How could they possibly touch that thing called "Governor"?

Outside the window, in the distant direction of the city, the faint sounds of a gathering crowd drifted by, interspersed with fragments of frenzied shouts torn apart by the night wind.

“...WAY…”

"...GOOD..."

He grabbed the last few cold beans from his lunchbox, shoved them into his mouth, and chewed with all his might, as if trying to crush, swallow, and digest this absurd, suffocating reality. His stomach was heavy, filled with beans, fear, and an identity he would never understand—a "candidate"—that silently rubbed against him with every step, like a bomb ready to explode at any moment.

David Miller realized a problem: even if "Wei Laosan" successfully submitted his candidacy documents, how could his other opponents possibly let him off the hook? And how could he possibly pass the subsequent eligibility review?
After all, the United States in 2020 is unlikely to be less advanced than it is today. All data can be entered into a computer and checked in a database to determine its authenticity.

His opponents will certainly do everything in their power to disqualify him from the race.

Just like in Mark Twain's novel *Running for Governor*, when the protagonist "Mark Twain" announced his candidacy for governor of New York, the following charges appeared in the newspapers the next day:
"In 1863, he was testified by thirty-four witnesses in Wakkavak, Cochinchina, for perjury. The intention behind the perjury was to seize a barren banana plantation from a poor indigenous widow and her helpless children, which was their only means of support and livelihood in their desolate life after losing their loved ones."

"When he was in Montana, his companions who lived in the same small house as him often lost small valuables, and these things were later found on Mr. Twain or in his 'suitcase' (the newspaper he used to wrap his belongings in).

"Mr. Mark Twain falsely accused our esteemed leader John Hoffman's late grandfather of being hanged for theft."

In the end:
"Your faithful friend—Mark Twain, once a decent man, but now a perjurer, thief, corpse thief, drunkard, fraudster, and blackmailer."

The election climate in the United States has been like this for over 100 years, and it's even worse now. For example, the guy who just took office as President of the United States this year has been questioned about whether he was a legally born citizen of the United States.

Even though he produced his birth certificate from Hawaii, it was suspected of being forged.

If it weren't for the support of the largest political party in the United States, he might have fallen at this point.

David Miller finds it hard to imagine how "Wei Laosan" will get through this.

But the novel quickly provides the answer in the following plot—

Wei Laosan's name appeared prominently on the candidate list on the election committee's official website, like a boulder thrown into a deep pool, yet it stirred up a torrent of divine light. Any doubts that attempted to touch this divine light were instantly shattered by the surging tide of public opinion.

State Senator Richard "Old Stone" Dunn, a veteran conservative politician, told reporters: "Procedural justice is the cornerstone of democracy! How can someone with an unknown identity, a fictitious address, and possibly no citizenship pass the eligibility check? This is a blatant violation of election laws! I demand that the election commission immediately initiate a review process and release Wei Laosan's identity and eligibility documents!"

He quickly faced a backlash from public opinion: the hashtag #DunnFearsTheTruth instantly dominated the front pages of all California social media platforms. Netizens created a viral video, photoshopping Dunn's serious, questioning face onto a medieval inquisitor's body, with a burning cross flag in the background and the caption "He is burning heretics!"

Meanwhile, the liberal San Francisco Chronicle published an editorial titled "Senator Dunn's 'Qualifications' Question: Who Gave You the Power to Define 'American'?" The article compared Dunn's questioning to historical anti-Chinese laws and racial segregation, calling him a "defender of systemic discrimination."

The following day, Dunn's constituency office in the capital was vandalized with paint. Slogans plastered on the door read: "Stop the Hatred!", "Your 'qualification' is a privilege!", and "WEI IS THE WAY!".

The latest polls show that Dunn's approval rating has plummeted by 15 percentage points in his core support base. He was forced to issue a "clarification statement," emphasizing that he "absolutely supports pluralistic values" and that his questioning was "only aimed at procedural loopholes," but it was too late, and his political career has suffered a severe blow.

The most anxious were naturally the team of candidate Thomas Riggs. This politician, who had been praising Wei Laosan just a week ago, was attempting to launch a "technical challenge." They hired professional investigative journalist Ben Carlson to dig up concrete evidence of Wei Laosan's "illegal overstay" or "tax evasion."

Relying on his professional instincts, Carlson, after some effort, located the foreman of the dilapidated construction site where Lao Wang had initially placed Wei Laosan (Lao Wang had already moved Wei Laosan there). Under Carlson's persistent questioning and the lure of a small "service fee," the foreman vaguely revealed: "That guy surnamed Wei? It seems Lao Wang brought him over from the southern 'frontline'... I haven't heard of him having any legitimate status... He's just an honest worker, he doesn't know anything about politics!"

Carlson was attempting to write an investigative report titled "Question Marks Beneath the Halo: The Mystery of Wei Laosan's Identity and His Hasty Registration." The editor-in-chief, sweating profusely, abruptly rejected the draft before print: "Carlson! Do you want to ruin the newspaper? Touching Wei Laosan now is like crossing a high-voltage line!"

The report was somehow leaked online. The chief lawyer for the "Wei Road Commission" immediately issued a stern statement accusing Carlson of "bribing witnesses and framing a public figure," and threatening to prosecute him for "defamation and sedition." Carlson's personal social media accounts were flooded with private messages from "Wei Laosan's Guardians," filled with profanities and death threats.

Under pressure, the newspaper transferred Carlson from the political news department and reassigned him to cover pet beauty pageants. The contractor who had taken the money, after being doxxed and "visited" by "enthusiastic netizens," vehemently denied saying anything and claimed to have "extreme admiration for Mr. Wei."

At a closed-door fundraising event, Riggs lamented to his donors: "We're not facing a candidate, but... a idol worshipped by millions! To question him is to question the faith of those believers! They're not defending a man named Wei Laosan; they're defending the perfect 'symbol of conscience' they've constructed in their own minds! This battle is unwinnable!"

“Public opinion…public opinion…” David Miller muttered the word, unaware that dawn was breaking outside.

He now understood Zhang Chao's intention—even in the United States, a society that prides itself on "separation of powers" and "freedom and democracy," the most sound laws cannot stop the power of public opinion.

Whether this force is driven by reason or by fanaticism.

As the United States repeatedly uses these enticing slogans and labels to subvert one country after another, such sentiments are also accumulating within the United States itself.

When this accumulation reaches a critical point—as described in the novel—and is ignited and detonated by "Wei Laosan," it will also impact the American order.

Ultimately, systems and laws are the greatest common denominator of the will of the people.

When the will of the people changes, neither systems nor laws can truly constrain people's behavior.

The basic political framework currently in the United States was established after the end of the Civil War, almost 150 years ago. At that time, the US population was 3100 million, while today it is 3 million.

Not only has the number increased tenfold, but the demographic structure is also vastly different from 150 years ago—the traditional white society has not only shrunk in size but is also disintegrating.

No matter how far-sighted Abraham Lincoln and his colleagues were, it would have been impossible to formulate an institutional framework suitable for 3100 million people on a social base of 3 million.

The political logic that was valid in the past is being overturned little by little—let alone 12 years from now?

David Miller finally had to admit that Zhang Chao, with an extremely absurd novel, successfully predicted the future of the United States—the “accuracy” of this prediction lies not in whether an illegal immigrant will actually become the governor of California in a decade or so, but in that it points out the most fatal crisis beneath the surface of American prosperity.

When this crisis erupts, things even more absurd than an illegal immigrant becoming governor will happen—as for what absurd things? David Miller doesn't have a specific idea yet, but he thinks it will probably be similar to the political satire in The Simpsons.

The novel's subsequent depiction of Zhang Chao's campaign strategy for "Wei Laosan" further confirms this point—

The election has reached a fever pitch. The "Wei Road Committee" knows that Wei Laosan is unable and should not show his face. They have planned the most bizarre "activity" in the history of the election - "Wei Laosan's Silent March: Listening to the Thunder in His Heart".

Tens of thousands of supporters gathered in Central Park in Los Angeles. There was no stage, no music, and no slogans.

The organizer—a highly respected elderly pastor—led the discussion in a deep voice: “Let us be silent. In this silence, let us feel Mr. Wei’s courage that night. Let us listen to the ‘gurgling’ sounds of our hearts being oppressed…”

The entire venue fell into absolute silence for 15 minutes. Only the sound of the wind and the distant hum of the city could be heard.

The silence ended, and the pastor proclaimed: "This silence is the gathering of strength! This stillness is the prelude to thunder! We are the way!"

The crowd erupted in a long-suppressed, deafening shout: "WEI IS THE WAY! Freedom...dom...GOOD!" The sound surged into the sky.

This video has been widely shared on social media:

"Shocking! Although Wei Laosan has not shown himself, his spiritual power has already commanded thousands of troops!"

"Silence is the most powerful declaration! Wei's campaign is a revolutionary political show!"

"In the midst of the clamorous election, only Wei Laosan's 'silence' allowed us to hear the conscience within our hearts!"

Authoritative polls show that Wei Laosan's approval rating miraculously climbed another 5 percentage points after the "silent march," gaining over 60% of the vote and significantly leading all opponents. Political analysts exclaimed: "California's political landscape has been completely rewritten!"

Liang Dandan, who was in Guangzhou, put down her novel and said to Zhu Yanling, "Wei Laosan is bound to win... but I don't know how Zhang Chao will clean up the mess for him? You know, in the ending of Mark Twain's 'The Campaign for Governor,' the protagonist did not become governor, but instead got into a lot of trouble."

If "Old Man Wei" were elected governor, it would be a bit... a bit...

Zhu Yanling laughed and finished the sentence for her: "A bit cliché?"

Liang Dandan nodded and said, "This seems a bit like subversion for the sake of subversion, which is not like Zhang Chao's style."

Zhu Yanling said confidently, "Don't worry, I trust Zhang Chao. He'll definitely give us a 'surprise' in the most unexpected place!"

(End of this chapter)