ICE RIVER
Part Two
The earliest CDs in the shop dated from after 2000.
"Oh." Dale Kingston nodded, looking disappointed. He was about to leave when the shop owner suddenly called out, "Hey... wait a moment."
The owner hauled out a battered cardboard box from the storage room, blew the dust off it, and opened it up. Inside was a jumbled assortment of cassette tapes. The owner said, "Didn't expect you'd be the nostalgic type, Officer Dai, liking old songs. These are all tapes from the 1980s—long out of fashion. Have a look, see if there's anything you like."
Dale Kingston rummaged through them, finding mostly tapes by Zheng Zhihua and Teresa Teng. These cassettes had weathered years of time; the labels on them had faded like so many old people entering their twilight years. The owner said, "They've been sitting around so long, a lot of these tapes have been demagnetized. I'm afraid most of them won't play anymore."
Dale Kingston asked, "Do you have any released in 1988?"
The owner dug around and pulled out a tape whose label was so worn it was nearly illegible. He examined it and said, "This one should be from 1988."
Dale Kingston took it and looked it over. "What song is recorded on this?"
"No idea." The owner shook his head. "Look at the label—it's too worn to read."
"Can we play it and listen?"
"Let's try. It's probably been demagnetized already." The owner slipped the tape into a cassette player and pressed play. After a moment, a hissing crackle came through the speakers.
"It's been demagnetized, just like I said." The owner was about to turn it off, but Dale Kingston suddenly stopped him. "Listen—there's sound!"
Both men pricked up their ears. Sure enough, amid the static and hiss, they could faintly make out a few lines of lyrics: "...one to hang in winter, one to hang at night, hang at night..."
"Oh, it's 'Planting Suns'! Takes me back." The owner squinted, as if recalling something from long ago. "I remember... it should be from the Galaxy..."
"Galaxy?!" Dale Kingston jolted upright, his mind feeling as if it had been struck by lightning.
"That's right—this song was performed by the Galaxy Children's Art Troupe." Humming along with the crackling hiss of the tape, the owner sang softly:
"I have a beautiful wish
When I grow up I want to plant suns
Plant one, just one is enough
It will bear many, many suns
One to give, to give to the South Pole
One to give, to give to the Arctic Ocean
One to hang, to hang in winter
One to hang at night, hang at night
La la la, plant suns
La la la, plant suns
When that time comes, every corner of the world
Will become, will become warm and bright"
Amid the cheerful song, Dale Kingston's face grew increasingly ashen. He felt as if he'd fallen into an ice cellar, chilled from the inside out.
4
"Captain Dai, tell us your conclusions."
On the communications screen linked to headquarters, a gray-haired senior official sat with a grave expression, waiting for Dale Kingston's report. They knew that Dale Kingston, as a criminal investigation specialist, wouldn't use his authority to directly initiate contact with headquarters without good reason. At moments like this, something urgent must have happened.
Dale Kingston drew a deep breath. He understood all too well that what he was about to say would affect the fate of all humanity. "We captured a member of the Sanxingdui organization and intercepted emails he was sending abroad. From these emails we extracted a Morse code used for communication. Once decoded, it read: 'Calling 1988, the Milky Way is about to bloom.'"
"Have you decoded this signal?" one of the elders asked.
"We have. It points to the children's song 'Planting Suns.'"
The senior officials were alarmed. At their age, they all knew this song. When it had first spread through society, these men had been vibrant youths. They had never imagined that this song could be a Sanxingdui contact signal.
Dale Kingston continued: "This song was released in 1988, performed by the Galaxy Children's Art Troupe. Moreover, the content of this song directly exposes Sanxingdui's action plan—they intend to 'plant suns.' What is a sun? In physical terms, a sun is simply an enormous nuclear fusion body. So the metaphor of 'planting suns' is not hard to decode: they're planning a nuclear explosion."
The faces of the several elders had already changed color. They could weigh the implications of these words.
Dale Kingston went on: "'Planting Suns' doesn't just expose their action plan; it also reveals the details of their operation. 'One to give, to give to the South Pole; one to give, to give to the Arctic Ocean; one to hang, to hang in winter; one to hang at night.' That is to say, there are two nuclear bombs—one at the South Pole, the other at the North Pole. The seasons at the South Pole and the North Pole are opposite; when it's night at the South Pole, it's day at the North Pole, and vice versa. In other words, these two nuclear bombs would detonate simultaneously at the South and North Poles! I don't know how many kilotons these bombs are packing, but at minimum they're in the megaton range. The radiation and heat from their detonations would be sufficient to melt the glaciers at both poles, causing sea levels to rise and submerge the vast majority of cities on Earth."
"This is an outright crime against humanity!" One of the elders' lips began to tremble. "If all of this is true, at that point there'd be the South Pole, the North Pole, plus the sun—three nuclear fusion bodies in total... My god, I finally understand why this organization is called 'Sanxingdui'—Three Star Mound."
Dale Kingston said: "We still don't know what Sanxingdui's motive is for doing this, but time is extremely tight. 'One to hang, to hang in winter'—this indicates the timing of their operation. There are only two days until the Beginning of Winter. That means these two nuclear bombs could very well be detonated within 24 hours!"
"Without further delay!" One of the elders made the decision immediately. "Contact Interpol and the UN Secretary-General at once. Conduct a carpet-style scan of both the Arctic Ocean and the Antarctic. We must find and neutralize those two nuclear bombs!"
5
Sanxingdui's terrifying plan sent shockwaves through the entire international community. Nations joined forces, deploying military satellites to conduct a full-scale scan of the South and North Poles. Sure enough, they found nuclear bomb launch sites hidden beneath the ice at both locations. The combined yield of the two bombs came to 8,000 kilotons.
Everyone involved in the operation felt the profound relief of having narrowly escaped catastrophe. Had this intelligence not been intercepted and those two bombs ultimately detonated, human civilization would truly have been destroyed.
The incident became a massive media sensation. Television stations around the world ran continuous coverage, hailing the Chinese officer Dale Kingston as a hero who had saved the world. Despite his habitual low profile, under the glare of countless spotlights, he had no choice but to become the center of public attention.
"Captain, you're a big shot now. Don't forget about us little people when you strike it rich," his colleague Ryan teased.
"Heh—it's not like being famous changes anything. I'm still your captain, still stuck at the unit. Can't escape the Buddha's palm." Dale Kingston asked, "By the way, how's Old Harlan doing now?"
"Harlan Grey? He's been locked up, waiting for the court verdict."
Dale Kingston suddenly wanted to visit him. Although the crisis had been resolved, a question still nagged at him like a fishbone stuck in his throat: why would an international organization like Sanxingdui go to such lengths to do all this? What was their purpose?
Based on instinct, Dale Kingston didn't think Old Harlan was someone who wanted to destroy the world.
The next day, Dale Kingston visited Old Harlan in the interrogation room. Dressed in a dark prison uniform, his head shaved clean, he had lost a whole circle of weight in just a week. His cheeks were sunken, like a cucumber that had lost all its moisture. He looked at Dale Kingston with vacant eyes, his pupils occasionally giving a slight tremor—the only sign that he was a living being.
Dale Kingston was taken aback by the extent of Old Harlan's transformation. Clearly, the failure of Sanxingdui's plan had dealt him a devastating psychological blow.
"Old Harlan..." Dale Kingston didn't know what to say, so he offered him a cigarette.
Old Harlan took it but didn't smoke it, just held it loosely in his hand. Dale Kingston sat with him in awkward silence for a while, and seeing that he wasn't going to respond, stood up to leave. Just then, Old Harlan spoke, out of nowhere: "Do you understand meteorology?"
"What?" Dale Kingston turned around, somewhat bewildered.
"Starting from 1970, a new term appeared in meteorological science: global warming, or 'global warming' as Western scholars call it. This term wasn't proposed casually—it was a conclusion drawn from over a century of observing meteorological data. Western scholars were the first to point the finger of global warming at human industrial activity, and soon enough, Chinese scholars adopted this theory as well." Old Harlan spoke like an emotionless machine, reciting these unfamiliar facts mechanically.
"..." Dale Kingston didn't know how to respond. He didn't understand what Old Harlan was trying to say.
Old Harlan continued: "Most Chinese scholars endorsed the 'global warming theory,' calling for limits on domestic industrialization and reductions in carbon emissions. But a very small number of experts who study the history of Earth's climate called this theory into question. They discovered that throughout the vast span of history, climate has followed its own patterns of change—whether ice ages or the Cambrian period, all fall within these patterns. By comparing past data from Earth's history, one finds that the current period is merely a brief warming phase between two ice ages. Very soon, a prolonged great ice age will deal a devastating blow to human civilization."
"Are you saying that global warming is just an illusion?" Dale Kingston asked.
Old Harlan's lifeless eyes rolled toward him. "Do you feel warm?"
This remark made Dale Kingston pull his coat tighter. Indeed, it had been getting colder and colder lately—even the south was starting to see snow disasters.
"Human industrial activity is negligible compared to planetary-scale climate change. The illusion of global warming cannot stop the great ice age from arriving on schedule. The only means humanity currently has to fight a glacial period is nuclear fusion—specifically, controlled nuclear fusion, commonly known as 'artificial suns.' Sanxingdui was originally founded by a small number of climate history experts, later expanding to include several elite nuclear physicists, all for this one purpose. I had the honor of being invited to join."
Dale Kingston sat there, utterly stunned. He didn't know what to say.
"The irony is that just as we were working to save the world, the global warming theory completely took over academia, and even governments signed the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. Do you know what that means? The world reached a consensus on reducing carbon emissions. Without the insulation effect of carbon dioxide, a great ice age will arrive even more swiftly. What drove us to even greater despair was that under these circumstances, Sanxingdui was outlawed and classified as an illegal organization. We were desperate, but we didn't give up. In order to complete controlled nuclear fusion before the great ice age arrived, we thought of the simplest and oldest method—nursery rhymes."
"You're saying..." Dale Kingston's voice began to tremble. "'Planting Suns'?"
"That's right. In 1988, Sanxingdui and their supporters in the arts community collaborated to encode the truth into a children's song that would spread far and wide through grassroots transmission. A terrifying great ice age was coming, and all we could do was plant suns. Those who could understand the deeper meaning of this song would become our successors, members of Sanxingdui. Through this song, the organization rapidly expanded, establishing a global network, and secretly founding controlled nuclear fusion research bases at both the South Pole and the North Pole. The vanguard of the great ice age will strike the Earth at the Beginning of Winter this year—you guessed correctly, that's when we planned to act, to complete the 'artificial sun' ignition project. But now..." Old Harlan, looking gaunt, shook his head and sighed at Dale Kingston, as if to say: "Look at what you've done."
"No, no, no—I don't believe what you're saying." Dale Kingston clawed at his hair, suddenly remembering something. "If everything you say is true, why didn't you tell us from the beginning?"
"Tell you?" Old Harlan's laugh carried an edge of bitterness. "Sanxingdui had already been abandoned by the international community, classified as a terrorist organization. Even if I had told you everything, would you have believed me? Go ask the academic community—do they endorse what I'm saying? We could only hide in the shadows, silently cultivating our work, preparing for this final strike. That was the creed of every Sanxingdui member. And now, the one sliver of hope has been crushed by Captain Dai's own hands. Well... perhaps this is just fate."
"Fate..." Dale Kingston murmured the word, his mind in turmoil. He didn't know whether everything Old Harlan said was true or false. If it was true, then he wasn't some savior of the world at all—he was merely an executioner used by fate to slaughter humanity.
"Is what you're saying true?"
"Whether it's true or false, we'll know soon enough." Old Harlan stood up. "Captain Dai, visiting hours are over. I'll be going now. Happy ice age."
Dale Kingston walked out of the interrogation room, his spirit shattered. Outside, a bitter north wind was blowing—it was extraordinarily cold. A sparrow had frozen to death on a tree branch, motionless, like a sculpture cast in concrete. He raised his head and looked toward the horizon. The sun had already been swallowed by dark clouds. A blizzard was coming, as if about to unleash an army of thousands upon thousands.
THE END