Imagination

Ephemerality

— Yunshu, Xie (Sally)

Nothing is eternal, would you agree? Not joy, nor pain.

Not love, nor antipathy.

No matter living or non-living, objects or feelings,

nothing is eternal, would you agree?

Once, we were all young and full of simplicity. In the cycle of time, we lost our naivety.

Not the kids we used to be.

No longer talk to barbies,

cry at our mommies,

asking for cookies and candies.

Remembering the days we went to the beach, we ran, we laughed, and we screeched.

Watching the sunset until it bleached,

closing our eyes and sitting quietly,

wanting all our memories to freeze.

Parting in the summer,

I wish I wasn’t sober. The happiest times ever, but I knew it was over. Staring at the clovers,

wishing and hoping, that I could move on, to a new chapter.

Finally it is autumn, listening to the album. Everything is awesome, no longer being

fearsome. Refuse to play possum, wanna use the wisdom,

to try fathom my own kingdom.

How long will this last? Nobody can forecast. Enjoy the present,

and never be downcast. Is there eternity?

Or does ephemerality outclass?

No one really knows,

just keep yourself out of the morass.

Night City

By Xinyi, Fan (Vincent)

Preface

After 2100 World War III, most of the human culture had been destroyed in the war. Only a few cities keep flourishing before the war. Night city is one of them. The city is a big circle, and it grew more and more prosperous from outside to inside. We can see high and luxury buildings in the center of the city, but dangerous and poor buildings will be outside.

Because of the War, most of the countries lost their government. At present, there are a variety of people in power, including armed families, governments that have not been destroyed, and powerful consortia. Night city is controlled by the powerful consortia called COMPANY, an organization that gains the most technology from the country before the war. In this city, money can do everything, not only buy fundamental supplies, but also illegal things. This means, in Night city, money is almighty. Everyone in this city is wondering how to get more money.

1.

In the night, a man is walking in the heavy rain without any rainproofs, the rain clap on the man’s body like a lake crush on the sky. But the man has a poker face, this kind of difficulty can’t make him feel uncomfortable. Neon lights stand on the advertising boards shining like workers never get a break. They stare at the man walking on the street.

After a while, the man walked through a half-open door. A bar. When he steps in, a sudden silence occurred from everyone who’s sitting in the bar. It seems that some weird creature just passes by their seats. And, in fact, it is. The man to them is a strange creature. In the view of the crowd, a big logo sits on the men’s jacket——

COMPANY.

“He’s a crew.” A voice sneaks from the sitting people.

The man does not like others’ sights. Scum of the society, he thinks, they look like zombies. From their dress and actions, the man knows that they already lost their dream and had eventually become disposable goods of the city.

Maybe I should go to the bar in the next street, the man thinks, at least I can see normal people there.

But the weather can’t support him change the place.

The man walks to the front table. The boss raises his head and wears a sardonic expression. He says, “I have no idea that I invite a company flunky in my store, Frank!” The man takes out his crash and said “Whisky.” The boss handed a cup to Frank and says “: Drink it and go, you are not welcomed here.”

The men start to drink, and at the same time, his phone starts to ring. Frank picks up his phone and looks to check who is giving him a call.

It’s his first friend in the Night City, Jack.

“It’s not a good time for calling me. Everyone sits here want to find some troubles on me.” “Ignore it, buddy,” Jack’s voice sounds excited over there, “I have a real good job for you, and for me.”

The voice stops suddenly, it seems like that Jack is waiting for Frank’s question. Frank raises his head and looks around. Other customers’ sights are still watching him. He turns around lets those slack sights land on the logo of his jacket.

“Big mission?”

Frank uses his lowest voice to respond to Jack.

“En.” Jack said. En is a special word for Frank and Jack. They both use this word as a response. Jack asks another short and simple question:

“Our dream, still remember?”

Frank paused, suddenly, a young man passes his sit, and unconsciously, he hits Frank with his shoulder. Frank turns his head up.

“Sorry man.” “I apologize.”

Those kinds of apologies make Frank look carefully at the young man around him. He saw some differences between the young guy and other people in the bar. In those eyes, he saw a glim of fire, it’s burning.

Burning, it lit up Frank’s memory, like the ashes.

——“I will be a big shot in Night City, one day!”

Frank thinks of his past when he first arrived in the city. At that time, there’s something similar in Frank’s eyes as the young men, that flame is burning.

But now, time crushed out those flames.

My dream? (Monologue by Frank) My dream.

The rough and hard life with Jack at the beginning was a nightmare compared with today’s safety. Frank spends months and years in order to achieve today’s stable life.

Frank knows that Jack is providing him a chance for another adventure, but he hesitated. Dream. Is it worth it for me to risk my life?

“Hello?”

Jack’s voice paused Frank’s recall. He rises the phone back around his ear. The young man already leaves.

“En?”

“Bar? Right?” “En.”

Jack chuckled.

“Whiskey.”

This time, his voice comes out with no doubt.

Frank paused; he knows that this “whiskey” is not only a word. It means a lot, to them.

“One more drink? My treat, mi amigo.” Jack says, “You know where can find me if you want to come.”

Then, Jack hangs up the phone.

Frank raises his cup. Lights pass through the alcohol, looks like fire burning in the cup. Burning again in his heart.

“Cheers.”

Frank says to nobody. Frank says to his dream.

2.

A few days later, Frank comes to Jack’s apartment. He pushes the doorbell. Jack opens the door. “Where is it?”

Frank looks at Jack, and the first sentence that comes out of his mouth is not “Good morning” nor “Long time no see.” It’s simply “Where is it?” This is their way of saying

“Hello.”

“On the table, your favorite one.”

A cup of whiskey. Jack responded to Frank with their way.

Frank takes up the cup. Through the glass of liquid, Jack looks fatter than usual in Frank’s eyes. Everything he went through with Jack starts to emerge in his mind. Just like it happens yesterday. Jack did not change, but he changed a lot. He is still wearing his favorite black-blue coat, and his muscles are still scary enough to fear a kid crying.

And then, Frank put his cup down. He stared at Jack.

There is something changed in his temperament, not that big, but undeniable. Which Frank can see from——

His Eyes.

Filled up with confidence, decisive, and optimistic. And, Frank sees, there is a glimmer of craziness, a sense of madness in the deep part of his soul. For sure.

“Crazy plan?”

Jack nods his head. “You got me.”

In both of their souls, fire is burning, burned directly into the future. Frank and Jack are two kinds of fire, with different shapes and colors. One of them is the stabilized and bright fire lantern in the city, while the other is the flame engulfing the forest, with wildness and fatal power. They started together, but they choose their own path, in an exact different direction.

Maybe they should not meet this time.

Maybe they should not be so closed.

And, maybe, they should never become friends.

But now.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

The Grand Finale

By Wentao, Deng (Dylan)

The government will decide to produce a certain amount of goods for a reason. Perhaps government wants to produce 40 kg of copper because some military weapons require this element for security purposes. Then, the value should not simply judge by money but as a whole country. By looking at the list of the advantages, maybe some private companies are trying to exploit copper and monopolize the whole copper Voices. He heard voices. Male, female, whispering. It grew darker as if someone had drawn the blinds. Those words, they came to him like quiet, powerful waves; spells of magic spoken directly to his ears. With every word sounding utmost familiar, yet combined they form an unintelligible speech.

Another dream.

He had been having them, quite a few of them. When he had them the first time, he knew immediately that it was a dream, for he had recognized, though with minor difficulties, the voices of his parents. Dead, for almost a decade. Their faces were blurred in his memories, but somehow, he managed to recall their voices.

“Finale.”

A voice unlike any of the murmuring, indistinct among the whispers that grew louder and louder. The voices, now turned into the buzzing sound of a thousand wasps, were starting to give him a headache. He concentrated his thoughts and tried to wake up. It had always worked.

Not this time.

“Finale, wake up.”

He heard it. He tried to shout back, yet found his voice drowned up in the sea of mutter. It

was...calling out...to him...

“Finale! I swear to God, I will not ask you again. Get, up!”

Eyes flew open. The light from the incandescent bulb stabbed his eyes like swords, but he

didn’t bother to close them. He found himself lying in his bed, panting for breath.

“For God’s sake, what were you thinking?” Aunt Georgiana’s deafening roar exploded in the

air, loud enough to hurt his ears. He turned and found her standing beside his bed, a broomstick in her hand.

“I’m sorry.” Apologies blurted out his mouth.

“Well, you should be. It is seven-thirty, and you are not yet up. We are all waiting for you. Daniel can most certainly not be late for his first day of high school!” Aunt Georgiana bellowed like a tiger.

Finale knew nothing to say. One thing he had learned for the past years is if one finds himself speechless in certain circumstances——such as this one——apologize would naturally be the best choice.

“I am sorry.” He repeated.

“You won’t be having your breakfast today. Now hurry up and get dressed!” She turned away and slammed the door.

Finale shook his head and signed.

Seventeen, in the last year of high school, not yet ready for graduation. That was him, Finale Redding. He had always admired his friends, those who seemed to know what they were doing and where they would go. Not him. Ever since his parents passed away, he had been living with his uncle and aunt, and their son Daniel. And from then on, his life had entered a phase of... bewilderment.

He was something they call a “transparent”, the one who, regardless of any circumstances, would never arouse any public attention. Finale hated the name, partly because it was irritably accurate. So he chose to be indifferent. Indifferent to school, to family (if he could ever call them that), to friends, which he had none; indifferent to everything around him as if they wouldn’t matter at all. Sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder, if someday he died, would anyone ever notice. Only the sense of hot breath coming out from his nose and his pounding heart reminded him from time to time of the fact that he existed. Like a ghost, wandering in a world that by no means belonged to him.

All except for one.

His cousin Daniel, whom he knew would probably be the sole person that would attend his funeral. Unlike in the tales where the “cousins” were usually mean and callous, Daniel was the closest to kindness. He would never boss around with orders, and would even sneak him a piece of cake or treat from time to time. Whenever uncle Ronan and aunt Georgiana got into an argument regarding Finale’s future, he would always be on his side.

He met Daniel downstairs, who was looking sharp in his dark suit and shining leather shoes. He gave Finale a friendly grin, and quickly slipped him a bar of chocolate.

“All I can do for you.”

“You heard it.”

“Can’t blame me,” He gave an innocent shrug. “Mom was as loud as a bear.”

“And if you don’t hurry up, you’ll see what a bear really looks like!” Aunt Georgiana’s

voice, filled with irritation, drifted from the kitchen. Daniel stuck out his tongue and ran away.

It was not until his second period did Finale realize the devastating effects of hunger. It felt like a boa constrictor had gotten into his stomach and was trying to swallow his intestines. It was impossible to concentrate. The pain grew so unbearable that he had to try all he could to refrain himself from moaning. Suddenly, he found all eyes were on him.

“Finale Redding, I asked you a question.” The bald professor stared at him, brows knitted into a knot. “Will you please answer?”

He knew not the answer. For all morning, he was too busy with his stomach to be paying any attention to the class. He tried hard, but couldn’t recall a word the professor said.

“I don’t know.”

“Not paying attention, is it?” The words were of evident disappointment. “You ought to know that your grades are not looking good. If you keep this attitude, I am convinced that you would have issues graduating. Think about it, if you fail to graduate, wouldn’t it be a shame? What can you say to your parents who had paid all these efforts to give you the opportunities for education...”

Finale didn’t listen to the rest of the speech. His head lowered, which reminded him of primary school. This would be the pose if little kids were to be scolded by their parents, except he was no kid, and he had no parents. He wanted to tell the professor that he hadn’t had breakfast, and was fainting, but he knew he couldn’t. The professor wouldn’t care about a word he says. All he could do was lower his head even more, and repeat the phrase that he had been repeating for the thousandth time.

“I’m sorry.”

He could sense eyes upon him, the expressions in them as clear as day. Sympathetic, scornful, amused. It was new to him. He had never in his life been stared at in such a manner. To him, public attention always belonged to the “popular”, not him, the “transparent”.

Finale sat down as naturally as he could, trying to conceal his trembling hands. He had never received much attention, yet all he wanted then was to be transparent. Those burning sights gazed right at him, made him feel as if they were piercing through his layers of defense and staring right into his essence; as if he was to be exposed in front of the crowd, ready to be dissected into a million pieces. He could hear them giggling and murmuring, the voices astoundingly resembled the whispers in his head.

The bell rang, signaled the end of the torturous day. Finale grabbed his bang and stormed out of the room. He ran as fast as he could, his legs ached, lungs squeaked with pain. Sweat poured down his forehead like waterfalls, he stopped, panting for breath.

What he experienced earlier was more than he could bear. He once thought himself indifferent, yet the truth lied in front of him as clear as day. Mere glances were too much for him to bear.

“Not having a great day, huh?” Finale halted and turned around to see Daniel, struggling to catch up.

“It was fine.” He lied.

“Well, I’m not so sure of that.”

Finale fell silent. He was a good liar. Ever since his parents died, he started lying about

everything. It gave him a sense of presence as if reassuring his existence. He became very good, and could soon deceive Uncle Ronan and Aunt Georgiana with no difficulty. But not Daniel. He didn’t know why, but his little cousin always seems to know his real thoughts deep down in his mind.

“You know you can always talk to me,” Daniel gave Finale a reassuring grin. “After all, we are cousins, aren’t we?

All of a sudden, his face resembled that of an angel. Like a beam of light, dispelling the darkness shone right into Finale’s heart. A hand, with such gentleness, touched upon it. Light as a kiss. Another feeling he had never had in his life, yet this time, he prayed for the moment to last forever.

“Wait here, will you? I’ll buy us some drink.” With that, he ran off before Finale could say anything. And in fact, he couldn’t. Everything seemed so...unreal. A day prior he regarded himself as indifferent, yet he had felt something, two kinds of feelings that were of polar opposites to each other. Two feelings he knew not the name. But did it matter? He knew not what they were, but one of them made his life far more enjoyable. Wasn’t that enough?

He raised his head and saw Daniel coming out from the store, two bottles of Sprite in his hands. It was his favorite drink.

Daniel was smiling, a smile with utter warmness, his eyes squinted into a slit. Cute, cheerful... blind. He was delighted, perhaps for seeing his cousin, ready to share every word of his grievance; or merely, happy for the drinks he held.

Too happy to notice the car dashing towards him. .

. .

Crash.

Two bottles of Sprite fell on the floor, cracked open, the liquid inside poured out. In Finale’s eyes, they had the color red.

He knew not how he got home. What happened after felt like a dream. Blood, screams, panicking people. Finale observed as if he wasn’t there to witness his cousin’s death. He felt his strength waning like ebbing tide, unable to support him. More than that, he felt something was missing inside. The feeling that he knew not.

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting on the couch. He saw people gathered, saw the street crowded with people, saw the police cars pulled over the sidewalk. The sun went down and the moon went up. He just sat there, without moving a muscle. No one came for him, as if he truly didn’t exist.

Voices again, this time a thousand times louder, blowing in his head like bombs. Darkness fell over him like blankets, severed his senses, severed his ties to the outside world. All of a sudden it grew quiet, with one voice only. His mother’s voice. And for the first time, he understood.

“Come to us...”

Stepping onto the balcony, he glanced outside. The roads had emptied, streetlights fading as the first rays of light piercing through the morning mist. It was dawn.

He closed his eyes. The wind brushed his nostrils, bringing the scent of newly mowed lawns. Nightingales chirped on the branches of distant trees, each tweet resounded in his ears. He could even sense the rising sun casting its beams, lightened up every inch of his silhouette.

And all of a sudden, death was no longer dreadful. He felt, at that moment, beyond the boundaries of time and space, beyond this world that had brought countless miseries to his presence. It had the feeling that he knew not. Warm, soothing, relaxed, somewhere he truly belonged, somewhere they call “home”. A smile of relief appeared on his lips for the first time in his life. market. However, the government won’t let this selfish and evil action happened.

It was the Grand Finale.

Persistence

By Sihan, Chen (Aaron)

Hope position as the most precious contemporary treasure; Dreams perpetuate motivations and your striving.

Vague future became visualized by the hope belonged to dreams, Simultaneously changing the prospect of perplex into the known.

The abrupt cease of time is not whispering the farewell of life, Though the moment tends to be the natural appearance of death, The convictions and spirits belong to eternity,

And the mere remaining was love and bone.

This is not the Great Plain beneath the horizon;

This is not the slide from a childhood recollection.

It is a precipitous mountain belonged to life;

It is a battle without fire that requires you to keep fighting on.

The primitives thirst for life to be prolonged; The ancients yearn for peace to be prolonged; The moderns expect the affections to be prolonged; Never be alone but look for where you belong.