Termination Shock

“In my experience, people all over the world think the same way,” Willem said. “If there is a disaster, it means that whoever is in power has lost the ‘Mandate of Heaven’ and must be gotten rid of.”

Bo said, “Western historians write about this phenomenon in China in a patronizing style, because they believe that the West—”

“Has evolved beyond all that superstitious nonsense. I know.”

“Don’t you think that that proclivity for self-delusion makes Western leaders vulnerable?”

Willem shrugged. “You raise an interesting philosophical question of a sort that is amusing to ponder in one’s free time. My job is to remind a powerless constitutional monarch to send handwritten thank-you notes to schoolchildren and to see to it that the name cards are properly arranged on the tables at state dinners.”

Bo looked away, apparently thinking that what Willem had just said was so stupid that it simply couldn’t be responded to without a breach in etiquette. But it would always be thus. The Chinese were either too obtuse to understand constitutional monarchy—preferring to see it as a paper-thin cover story to conceal what was really going on—or else they were so infinitely more sophisticated that they understood the realities in ways that the self-flattering Europeans never could. Either way, the Chinese seemed to have much firmer opinions on the matter than Willem did. Willem was willing to entertain the hypothesis that Queen Frederika actually could wield serious temporal power, but it seemed too far-fetched, too at odds with the unassailable constitutional bedrock of the Grondwet to which he’d sworn himself.

“You are—what’s the English word? Underemployed. A man of your experience and erudition—arranging place cards? Really?”

Since that sounded like the germ of a job offer—which could only lead in the direction of incalculable disaster—Willem said, “I couldn’t be happier in my role.”

“Then you must have other duties that are more challenging—more interesting!” Bo exclaimed, as if this were a fascinating new revelation. “But of course, it makes sense. Why else would you be here—looking at this?”

“The obvious reason. Climate change.”

“Very important in this part of America,” Bo said agreeably. “Louisiana. Texas too.” He was watching Willem carefully. “Its relevance to Houston, for example, could hardly be more obvious. Waco, on the other hand—I don’t see the connection.”

“I’ve heard of the place,” Willem allowed.

“You’ve rented a truck there!” Bo nodded at this rather large and undeniable piece of evidence. “Dodge Ram, license plate ZGL-4737.” He raised his tablet and snapped a picture.

“This tea is excellent. You brew it at eighty degrees Celsius, if I’m not mistaken.”

“It is the only proper way,” Bo said, and enjoyed a sip. “Why do you think we were not invited to this thing in Texas?”

“‘We’ meaning China?”

“Yes.”

“You’re asking me to read the mind of T.R. McHooligan?”

“As a mere social secretary I thought you might have some exceptional powers in that area.”

“You must have been a teenager once.”

“Of course.”

“When you didn’t invite a girl on a date, what was she to conclude?”

Bo shrugged. “That I didn’t fancy her?”

“Or that you didn’t know whether she would accept the invitation. She might turn you down—with the attendant loss of face.”

“So if China wishes to be invited to such events in the future, she needs to flirt with T.R. McHooligan? To make him feel more confident?”

“I am merely speculating as to the man’s possible motives. I have never even met him.”

“Perhaps he knows in advance that we will decline his invitation.”

“Perhaps.”

“And that we will do so because his plan will be bad for China, and he knows as much—so why bother inviting us in that case?”

“It means nothing to me either way if you consider T.R. to be an enemy of China, or if he feels the same way about you. Even if I were in the habit of supplying your government with intelligence, I would simply have nothing to offer in this case.”

“Well said. I see why the queen likes you. She too is perhaps underemployed.”

“She has a job.”

“Well, I’m sure that your next few days will be extremely fascinating. I envy you that and will try not to have my feelings hurt in the manner of the jilted teenager you alluded to.”

“Somehow I think that China will endure.”

“Oh, yes,” Bo said. “It will.”

During the latter part of this conversation, Willem’s phone had been vibrating with increasing frequency. Only a few people had the power to make this happen. When he had at last extricated himself from the conversation, retrieved the ERDD vest, and emptied his tea-laden bladder in a stifling portable toilet redolent of industrial perfume, he sat down in his truck, A/C blasting, and found a string of increasingly testy messages from the queen.

> What are you doing in the Gulf of Mexico?

> Your map is out of date. Where I am it is now dry land.

> The question remains.

> Another feeler from Chinese intelligence. Will write up a report.

> Do they know where I am?