Power Problems (the sequel to "The Everything Book")

Shiga was reading a Smithsonian magazine. The front cover showed a photo of one of China's ghost cities. The cities were built, infrastructure and all, but no one lives in them. Which sounds absolutely stupid and insane to me, but maybe it makes sense to the Chinese government.

“Didn't you hear what just I said?” I asked him, trying to snatch the magazine away from him.

He pulled it out of my reach, nodded, and kept reading the magazine.

“What did I say?” I asked him.

“Ghost city still powered by local substation,” Shiga replied.

“No, I didn't,” I said. “That's what you're reading about.”

He sighed and this time looked at me. “Pan – Boss isn't going to give us vacation unless he's absolutely certain there isn't any assignment for us in the foreseeable future. We're paid to travel, learn, and report back. We aren't paid to go on vacation if there's no other reason to be there except to relax and take it easy.”

“Maybe we could at least ask and see what he says,” I suggested.

Boss left his little office and came over to us. He glanced at both of us. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I thought maybe we'd earned enough time off for a paid vacation,” I replied. “Maybe a week, or two at most.”

“That's not a bad idea, actually,” Boss said.

I stared at him in disbelief. “You mean it?”

Boss nodded. “In fact, I have just the place for a great vacation. No traffic, no crowds, and no interruptions.”

That didn't sound like a vacation idea anymore. That sounded like a possible assignment.

“And where might that be?” I asked.

Boss pointed at the magazine Shiga was holding. “Mysterious power fluctuations. Computer software glitches. But no sign of human interference. It's spreading, though. So far, just a few ghost cities are affected, but it might affect all fifty of them in the next few weeks if it isn't stopped in time. The local Chinese government emailed the list of preferred candidates to the US government, which forwarded it to our department. You were both at the top of their list.”

I sighed. “How wonderful to be so well known by madmen the world over.”

Boss smiled. “What if I sweeten the deal? You have two weeks for the assignment. Finish the assignment sooner and you can spend the rest of the time at any resort in Thailand, all expenses paid.”

“What's the catch?” I asked.

“Don't sound so cynical, Pan,” Shiga said.

“I'm not cynical,” I retorted. “Suspicious is more like it.”

“Or would you rather go to Egypt and study mummies with the Director of Antiquities?” Boss asked. “Hawass could use your help.”

“No thanks,” I said. “Those mummies probably come to life, attacking and scaring everyone in sight.”

“That only happens in cartoons and movies,” Shiga said.

“How comforting,” I said. “All right. When do we leave?”

“Tonight,” Boss said. “There's a flight that leaves Dulles International Airport a little after midnight. It will arrive at Kunming Changshui International Airport in southwest China. Not far from Tibet, incidentally. You'll be met at the airport in China and driven to the nearest affected ghost city.”

“No ghost train this time?” I asked.

Boss shook his head and handed us envelopes. “Passports, maps, and spending money. The money should be more than enough. I don't want to hear that you spent it all the first day.”

“You won't,” Shiga promised. “We need time to pack.”

“Your work-day is over,” Boss said. “At seven this evening, a shuttle van will pick you up at Pan's townhouse and deliver you to the airport. Any further questions?”

Shiga and I shook our heads.

“Good luck, then,” Boss said. “I expect another excellent report when you return.”

“If we return,” I muttered, but Boss didn't hear it.

----------

The Chinese Air Lines flight from Singapore arrived in Kunming at 7 am (7 pm, Washington DC time).

I don't sleep well on planes, but Shiga had no problem sleeping on the flight from Dulles International Airport to Singapore. In fact, he was barely jet-lagged.

“You look like you could use some more sleep,” he said. “Why don't you do that while I speak with the local authorities?”

“Definitely,” I said.

We were met outside Customs and International Arrivals by a nice young Chinese man in a Maoist suit, complete with cap on top with a red star on the front of it. He bowed and we bowed in return.

“Welcome to China,” he said. “My name is Ming. Our transportation is waiting outside the main terminal building. Please come with me.”

“My coworker could use some sleep,” Shiga explained as exited the main terminal building. “She doesn't sleep well on planes.”

“And yourself?” Ming asked him.

“I need to speak with the local authorities before we visit the first ghost city tonight,” Shiga said.

“Tonight?” Ming repeated, looking surprised. “Would you not rather visit it tomorrow during the daytime?”

Shiga shook his head. “Tonight.”

“You will be escorted by members of the Chinese military at all times when you are at the ghost city,” Ming said.

“Understood,” Shiga said. “If there are any dangers, it will be comforting to have their protection.”

I wasn't sure if Shiga was being sincere or sarcastic, or maybe a little of both. I hoped that the sarcasm wasn't picked up by Ming. Ming looked very intelligent, but it was possible that he was unfamiliar with some types of western spoken communication.

The transportation was a Hyundai minivan painted bright red with a large yellow star on the front hood. We sat in the middle seats behind the driver and passenger seats. Ming sat in the passenger seat and said something to the driver. The driver nodded and the minivan started up and drove away from the airport.

On the way to our hotel, Ming looked apologetic. “I am sorry that I did not understand that you would not both be male. When we saw the name 'Pan', we assumed it to be a male first name.”

“In my case, it's short for 'Pandora',” I explained.

“I see,” Ming said. “Or at least I think I do. What is the source of the name?”

“The Greek myth of Pandora's Box,” I said. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have not,” Ming admitted. “My university studies did not include western mythology.”

“You could always learn more from online websites,” I suggested.

Ming sighed. “Yes, if they are not censored by the government. So much of the online environment is blocked in China. I hope you will understand.”

“Must make it difficult to do research,” I said and glanced at Shiga, who seemed to be willing to let me do the talking for both of us.

“Sometimes, yes,” Ming said. “And, even then, sometimes reports are suppressed either before or after they are sent to Beijing.”

The driver gave Ming a look. I wondered who was in command here. Ming initially seemed to be, but now I wasn't sure. Maybe the driver was in command?

Ming nodded in return. “I have said too much. I will be more discreet in the future.”

----------

Checking into the hotel and finding our room was simple enough. Most hotels seem to have similar layouts to help guests from getting lost.

Once we were inside our hotel room, Shiga said, “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“If I'm not awake by then, wake me,” I said.

He nodded and left the hotel room.

I changed into pajamas and got into bed. I was asleep moments after my head hit the pillow.

It felt like only minutes later when someone was shaking me, trying to wake me up.

I opened my eyes a little to see Shiga standing next to the bed, leaning over me. “I'm awake. Is anything wrong?”

“You have about thirty minutes to get ready, Pan,” he said. “Our transportation to the first ghost city will be arriving promptly.”

I looked past him at the hotel bedroom's windows. The sky was dark, with tiny points of light here and there, and below that was the brightly lit expanse of downtown Kunming.

“If you can make me some coffee, I'll be ready even sooner,” I said. “Make it strong, though.”

Shiga nodded and did so.

----------

The minivan that arrived to take us to the ghost city seemed to be the same one as before, but the driver looked different. Maybe they took turns? Sitting in the bench seat behind us were three armed Chinese soldiers. They didn't speak, though. More like statues than real people.

The highway from Kunming to the ghost city was eerily empty. How often did anyone travel to this ghost city? Once a year? Once every five or ten years?

Even the train tracks between the two sides of the highway were empty.

Why would you build all this infrastructure and then never use it? I asked Ming about this.

“It has been this way for many years now,” he explained. “But changes are happening. Pudong, for instance, the ghost city section of Shanghai is now thriving. Many of its residents, though, had to be relocated there from elsewhere in China.”

And probably against their will, I thought but didn't say aloud.

“Do they enjoy living there?” I asked.

Ming nodded. “Oh yes. They have adapted well.”

Which wasn't exactly what I'd asked about.

Shiga gave me a nudge. “Don't be so nosy, Pan,” he whispered.

I apologized to Ming for being overly curious.

He merely nodded in return.

The ghost city seemed to rise out of the ground as we approached. The tall towers of glass and steel looked like silent, unarmed soldiers standing at attention.

Maybe they should've been made out of terracotta instead, I thought.

There was even a shopping mall, Ming told us, happily. But there weren't any stores in it … yet, he added. That was expected to change soon, once our investigation of the power problems was completed and we left China. Of course. So much hype and so little progress. Like the Bridge to Nowhere in Alaska.

We drove down what would've been the main street of the city. The power substation came into view as we passed the halfway point, lit by nearby city lights. The substation looked like a giant robotic centipede or millipede. We arrived at it, though, there was no one at the gates. We simply drove through and then parked nearby.

The soldiers and the three of us got disembarked from the minivan, but the driver stayed inside it.

“Seems normal enough,” Shiga said as we looked around. “But Boss wouldn't have sent us here if there wasn't anything unusual.”

“This is true,” I said, feeling a little uneasy.

“If you will follow me, the mains control building is this way,” Ming said.

----------

Inside the building, we saw that everything was automated via computer hardware and software.

“What happens if there's a glitch?” Shiga asked Ming.

“There has never been one,” the latter replied, “until recently. We have attempted to trace the problems back to their probable source or sources, but without success. Perhaps you will succeed where we did not. After all, that is why you traveled all the way to China from America.”

“We investigate mysteries,” I said. “It's our job. We go wherever our boss sends us.”

“You are military, then?” Ming asked.

Shiga shook his head. “We're part of the Smithsonian Institution.”

“But why would museums send you all over the world?” Ming asked, puzzled. “Surely you do not have online censorship in America?”

“Sometimes it's better to send someone than to try to learn about it online,” I said. “Usually we're the ones chosen.”

Shiga went from workstation to workstation, apparently not seeing anything unusual or wrong. “If only I had taken Mandarin in college. But I was more interested in Anthropology and Mandarin wasn't mandatory.”

“Can you translate the on-screen text for us?” I asked Ming.

The latter replied, “The messages only have to do with ongoing supervision of the power distribution system in this city. But if you wish me to –”

“It probably doesn't matter to our investigation,” Shiga interrupted.

I glanced at him. It was rare for him to be so rude. Maybe he would apologize to Ming? Or did Shiga have his reasons for interrupting?

“Where did the errors first start happening?” Shiga asked.

Ming led us to the computer operations room. He sat down behind a desk that had a computer monitor and keyboard on it. We watched as he typed in a query using the red-colored keys of the Mandarin keyboard and then looked at the screen. A message in Mandarin characters appeared.

“It says that an anomaly is interfering with the city's power distribution, causing fluctuations,” Ming translated for us. “The source of the anomaly is unknown.”

“But surely it came from somewhere,” Shiga insisted. “It didn't just fall from the sky or appear out of thin air.”

Ming looked unhappy. “I will query again. There is only so much that I can learn here.”

“Is there somewhere where we could learn more, if not here?” I asked.

“I am not sure,” Ming replied. “This is the mains control building. This is where the power distribution for this ghost city is controlled.”

“Is there another power substation?” Shiga asked.

Ming shook his head. “Since this city is unoccupied, there has been no need to build and operate more power substations. This one has been sufficient for the city's use for the last several years.”

I had the feeling that Ming either didn't know, or he wasn't allowed to tell us. In countries like China, discretion seemed to be a euphemism for secret. If you didn't say too much, no one would punish you for it. If you said nothing at all, so much the better.

Going to the building's entrance, I looked at the ghost city, lit up, but empty.

“Where are the interruptions occurring?” Shiga asked Ming. “Just here, or are there more locations?”

“Primarily here,” the latter said. “But secondary outages occur elsewhere in the city, of course.”

“Where?” Shiga asked. “If you don't mind me asking.”

Ming glanced at the three soldiers standing behind us. “I am not sure I can answer that.”

“We're here to find answers to questions, Ming,” Shiga said, sounding annoying now. “We were specifically asked to come to this part of China to investigate. Putting up barriers, even, temporarily, isn't going to help us.”

Ming looked unhappy. “I am doing what I can.”

Maybe so, I thought, but it's not enough.

Then I saw a blue flash near the top of a power pole a few blocks away from the power substation. That didn't look good.

“You must understand the limitations that –” Ming tried to explain, but interrupted himself. “Another power outage is occurring.”

“I think I saw a transformer being knocked out,” I said. “But I couldn't see anything hitting it. I could understand if it was lightning, but no storm to produce any lightning strikes.”

“It is spreading quickly,” Ming said.

From the building's entrance, I could see the real-world effects. “No kidding. It's like what I read about the 1977 blackout in New York City. It probably won't take more than a few minutes to –”

Every light that I could see outside the power substation had suddenly gone dark. Like a thousand eyes that suddenly shut, leaving only dark faces behind.

“We have a massive power failure occurring,” Ming said. “Circuit breakers are failing at an exponential rate. Maybe I can stop from getting any worse –”

The room went completely dark. Ming and the three soldiers looked like shadows now.

“I guess that answers that question,” I said. “Come over here, Shiga. You won't believe the view now.”

He joined me at the building's entrance. “It's not a ghost city anymore, Pan. It's a dead city.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I wouldn't bother, Ming. It'll probably take hours or maybe days to restore power to the city.”

“But what do I do?” Ming asked helplessly.

I thought I saw lightning flashes above the nearest buildings, but no thunder. More transformers blowing? Maybe.

“Maybe this is a reminder not to send power to an unoccupied city,” Shiga said.

“I wonder if it's possible –” I said, then hesitated.

“If what is possible?” Shiga prompted me.

“If the power outages are caused by something that isn't human,” I said.

“You mean like hardware or software?” he asked. “Or literally non-human?”

We could hear deep, heavy, thudding sounds. Like a giant-sized elephant stomping as it went along. The sounds seemed to be heading toward us.

“Ming?” Shiga called. “You might want to come here. Something is approaching and it isn't anyone from Beijing.”

Ming ran over to us, accompanied by three soldiers. He looked where Shiga was pointing and blanched. We all saw the huge ghostly glow approaching. It pulsed regularly as if it were alive. It hit the outer perimeter of the power substation, sending sparks and jagged lightning in all directions. Afterward, it seemed to be even larger.

Ming said something that Shiga and I didn't understand.

“Care to repeat that in English?” I prompted.

“A power ghost,” he said. “It feeds on electricity. I thought that they were only legends used to scare disobedient children.”

“That's no legend,” Shiga said.