The Orphan Master's Son_ A Novel - Adam Johnson [223]
“Sorry,” Commander Park told Buc. “But the amount of pain that will come of this, it’ll be too much for a single man to bear. Even when we spread it around to the rest of you, it might be too much.”
“Dear Leader,” Buc said. “It’s me, your closest comrade. Who gets your cognac from France and your sea urchin from Hokkaido? Who has procured for you every brand of cigarette in the world? I’m loyal. I have a family.” Here Buc stepped close. “I don’t defect,” he said. “I never defected.”
But the Dear Leader wasn’t listening. He stared instead at Commander Ga.
“I don’t understand who you are,” the Dear Leader said to him. “You killed my nemesis. You escaped Prison 33. You could have gotten away for good. But you came here. What kind of person would do that? Who would make their way to me, who would throw away his own life, just to spoil mine?”
Ga looked up to the jet trail overhead and followed it toward the horizon. A wave of satisfaction ran through him. A day wasn’t just a match you struck after all the others had gone out. In a day, Sun Moon would be in America. Tomorrow would find her in a place where she could perform a song she’d waited a lifetime to sing. From now on, it would no longer be about survival and endurance. And this new day, they were embarking on it together.
Returning the Dear Leader’s gaze, Ga felt no fear looking into the eyes of the man who would get the last word. In fact, Ga was oddly carefree. I’d have felt this my whole life, Ga thought, if you had never existed. Ga felt his own sense of purpose, he was under his own command now. What a strange, new feeling it was. Perhaps this was what Wanda had in mind when she stood before that expanse of Texas sky and asked if he felt free. It could be felt, he now knew. His fingers were buzzing with it, it rattled his breathing, it allowed him to suddenly see all the lives he might have lived, and that feeling didn’t go away when Commander Park’s men knocked him to the ground and dragged him by his heels toward a waiting crow.
CITIZENS, gather ’round your loudspeakers! It is time for the final installment of this year’s Best North Korean Story, though it might as well be titled the Greatest North Korean Story of All Time! Still, in this last episode, ugliness makes its inevitable appearance, citizens, so we recommend you not listen alone. Seek the comfort of fellow factory workers. Embrace the stranger in your subway car. We also suggest you protect our youngest comrades from today’s content, as they are unaware of the existence of human injustice. Yes, today the Americans let loose the hounds. So sweep sawdust from the mill-house floors, gather cotton from the machine-loom motors—use anything you can find to pack the tender ears of the innocent.
At last, the moment had arrived to return the poor American Rower Girl, rescued from dangerous seas by our brave fishing fleet. You remember well the American’s pitiful appearance before Sun Moon beautified her. This day the Girl Rower wore her hair braided long by Sun Moon herself. True, no choson-ot, however golden, could hide those slouching shoulders and ungainly breasts, but the Girl Rower at least looked more fit since her diet had been balanced by healthy portions of flavorful and nutritious sorghum. And after the Dear Leader delivered her a stiff lecture on chastity, she appeared instantly more womanly, her face sobered, her posture erect.
Still, her departure was a sad one, as she was returning to America and a life of illiteracy, canines, and multicolored condoms. At least she had her notebooks, copied full of the Dear Leader’s wisdoms and witticisms, to show her the way. And we must admit: she belonged with her people, even in a land where nothing is free—not seaweed, not suntanning, not even a basic blood transfusion.
Imagine the fanfare with which our Most Reverend General Kim Jong Il received the Americans who flew to Pyongyang to retrieve their young Rower Girl. In the spirit of good cooperation, the Dear Leader was willing to set aside for