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ZaoZhi Harbor, China

Year 2042

The large ferryboat skimmed across the water on its pontoons at 220 knots, nearly completing its fifty mile trip in less than fifteen minutes. It slowed to 20 knots for its final excursion of the one mile left to the harbor. The pontoons sank thirty feet into the oil soaked bay, and the 150 or so riders that were in the enclosed upper area passenger lounge, walked out on the deck to enjoy the light breeze off the water.

Five hundred yards to the portside of the ferry was a peculiar looking, circular cloud that seemed to just hover above the water. To disinterested onlookers, it looked innocently like a cloud of diesel smoke, but upon closer inspection they would have seen millions of tiny black mosquito sized objects swirling one behind the other, creating the effect of a fifty foot wide whirlwind.

Suddenly, as if responding to an order, the cloud of black atoms aligned themselves in perfect synchronicity into the shape of a huge javelin. Then, with a tremendous blast of air and water, the spear bolted skyward, a mile into the air, until it reached the apogee of its flight and then reversed course straight down into the bay. Traveling at nearly the speed of sound, it turned and ran just below the surface, aimed directly at the underside of the ferryboat.

No one on board saw or heard the projectile, but immediate panic ensued when the boat listed forty degrees to the port, as the now fifteen-foot diameter hole in its hull sucked in thousands of gallons of seawater.

The ferryboat sank in mere seconds, dragging down motorcycles, automobiles, and all but a few passengers into the putrid dark bay.

A mile away, on the starboard side of where the boat had once been, a large black arrow surfaced from the bay, reformed into a swirling dark cloud and sped off toward the green hills behind the port.
Three days later, the old undertaker, Cheng Lee, sat quietly at a small table erected on the rear lawn of the funeral home. He sipped his tea, and contemplated the work still left on the three corpses that were laid out on tarps nearby.

He had processed twenty-two bodies that day, and though very tired, he thought he must finish the last three, out of respect for the families. As he was about to return to his work, he saw a police car drive up the mountain road toward him. The car hovered several feet above the road, the wash from its underside jets propelling dirt on either side of the automobile. As it came to a stop next to him, he was able to make out its occupant. It was Detective John Tang, a middle aged detective of the provincial police department, who he knew from webzine accounts of his exploits with city criminals.

Cheng Lee was honored at the unexpected visit.

Detective Tang pushed a button on the console and the large Plexiglas sphere split in two, allowing him to climb out of the hover car to greet the demure old man.

“Please,” the undertaker said. “Have tea with me, Detective.”

“So, you know who I am. Then you must know why I am here.”

“I do know you from your fame, sir, but I do not know the reason for your visit. Tea?”

“Yes, please,” the detective replied, and sipped the hot green tea.

“Very refreshing. I assume you are Mr. Lee, the proprietor?”

“Yes,” the old man said, bowing his head slightly. “I began the unfortunate business of preparing the departed in 2002 and I am still at it, as you see.”

“Yes, yes, a miserable job, like mine. Old man, you know of the ferryboat sinking three days ago in the harbor, No!”

“Of course I do,” he said, pointing the corpses. These three are the last of the poor souls. I was about to process them when you arrived. Why do you ask?”

The detective wiped his mustache, and continued. “We have had two disasters in as many months in ZaoZhi and I believe that to be too much of a coincidence for such a small harbor town. Last month a hillside gave way, as you know, killing 42 valley dwellers, and now this ferryboat sinking with more than a hundred deaths. I have to ask myself, as a detective, are these coincidences or could it be a premeditated and diabolical scheme. I would also ask myself who would benefit most from these disasters and I have concluded that you, Mr. Lee, benefit very much from these unfortunate deaths. How many bodies have you processed from these incidents?”

“Eighty-three,” the undertaker said.

“Yes … eighty-three, and what are you paid for each,”

Mr. Lee rubbed his bald head in thought. “I receive 30,000 for copper, 40,000 for silver and 50,000 for gold.”

“Explain yourself, old man. What do you mean by this, copper and gold business?”

“Oh yes,” the old man laughed. “Of course you don’t understand. It is the new nano-technology that confuses you. Come, here, let me show you.”

He walked the detective over to the three bodies and pointed at a dark swirling cloud next to them.

“As you know,” he continued, “in the past few decades, because of the scarceness of cemetery property, the bodies were either cremated or processed and formed, using epoxy, into bricks for display by the families. Since cremation was outlawed, we undertakers are only allowed to process the corpses. This was not a tidy business as you well know. The crushing and grinding of human skeletons and tissue was a tedious and time consuming chore and was met with much un-satisfaction by the remaining family members. Now I have purchased a splendid nano-processor made up of millions of tiny organisms that can be programmed into the shape of a giant machine that will process a body, remove and expel all the fluids, and deliver a solid brick of remains, no bigger than a loaf of bread, all in a matter of seconds.”

“Yes, yes,” the detective said impatiently. “But what of the gold and silver you talked about.”

“Well sir. Why not let me just show you, if you’ll assist me. My help has left for lunch and has not returned.”

The old man removed a sheet off a pile of six-foot, thin copper rods, removed one from the pile and strapped it to a bamboo pole that had been driven into the ground. Once the rod was secured, he uncovered a bloated corpse and grabbed its naked shoulder and leg. He motioned for the detective to do likewise, which Detective Tang did, trying not to retch from the smell. Together they lifted the body up against the pole.

The old man strapped the body to the bamboo and copper rod poles with reeds, until it was suspended in the upright position. He looked at the detective and said, “Watch now."

He barked a few commands at the hovering nano-cloud and stepped back, pulling the detective with him.

The cloud burst into the sky, twenty feet above the two men, and formed into a four-foot wide funnel that reached up twenty feet in height. Detective Tang watched in awe as the cloud suddenly created, out of seemingly nothing, thousands of small rotating blades inside the cone.

The undertaker barked another command and the giant machine, now resembling an enormous sea cucumber, dropped down over the corpse and the two rods. There was a high pitched whine as the blades obliterated the three objects, followed by a low hum and finally a piercing bang. Suddenly, there was the loud sound of gas escaping, and a small blood-colored cloud puffed out of the top of the unearthly machine, and floated toward a large pink-tainted outcrop of trees.

Near the bottom of the great cone, the atoms reformed into a box. Tang watched wide-eyed as a door opened underneath the box and dropped a copper-colored brick. He walked over, picked it up, and read the inscription: “Chen Long Do, 2005-2042, at rest forever.”

The old man took the brick from the detective, and placed it on top of a pile of other bricks nearby that were covered by a green tarp.

“That was copper. I do the same in gold or silver if the family can afford it.”

“I see,” said Detective Tang, “very lucrative for you, no doubt, old man. I think you will be very rich if these calamities continue to befall my fellow citizens. I am leaving now sir. I won’t hold you and your malevolent machine from completing your morbid task, but you will see me soon. My investigation will soon show what I have concluded already, that you are somehow involved in these outrageous disasters. I will see you, very soon.”

The detective walked hurriedly to the hover craft, and stared straight ahead as the plastic dome shut over the top of him. The large sphere lifted off the ground, turned on its axis and within seconds, the automobile was down the road and out of sight.

Cheng Lee looked down at the black cloud, now winding between his legs, and spoke softly. “I believe Detective Tang means to do us harm, lotus petal. Go stop him now, my dear, before he does something foolish.”

The cloud shot off in the direction of Detective Tang like a bloodhound, fresh on the scent of a fox. A mile down the road, it reformed into a huge wall and dropped directly in front of the shocked detective. The plastic bubble car cracked in half as it smashed into the impenetrable wall, propelling Detective Tang into the soft air bags. He screamed as he looked up and saw the wall morph into a huge cone, twice the size of the one he witnessed ripping the corpse of Chen Long Do. The cone dropped over the car, muffling the sounds of the blades ripping and tearing at the car and its hapless occupant.

The cloud reformed into the shape of a saucer, and flew jet-like toward the funeral home. It stopped just a few feet from the undertaker and dropped a translucent brick out of its side onto the ground. The undertaker picked up the still warm brick and observed the inscription. “Curiosity has killed the cat.”
He waved his hand lovingly through the cloud of black atoms and said, “Very fitting, my lotus petal.”

Copyright 2007 J. J. White
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