Legend of the Cyber Heroes
Chapter 382 - 26 A Bit of Literary Discussion

Chapter 382: Chapter 26 A Bit of Literary Discussion

"Ah, recalling the past..." Babbitt settled himself on the ground next to Xiang Shan. "Great Hero, do you have many past stories?"

Xiang Shan gave him a glance, "Nothing of great importance."

It wasn’t the time to "proclaim the rebirth of the Martial God." Xiang Shan had no intention of revealing his true identity.

The moment to "illuminate the stage" was not now.

Babbitt said, "Yes, yes, I love to listen to stories. I search for them every day. If you are willing to share some of your past stories, Great Hero, I wouldn’t have to worry about what to broadcast today."

"Heh," Xiang Shan smiled, "Would you fret over that? O. Henry and Maupassant are masters of the short story. And after them comes Flaubert—there were many authors in the Old Era, an inexhaustible supply."

"But the stories of the Old Era are, after all, stories of the Old Era," Babbitt said. "Our era has far too few stories."

Xiang Shan looked up again at the waning moon.

The stories of this new era are scarce because "culture" has been destroyed.

People are still allowed to write things online. They can freely preserve their written records. However, the meaning of "literary activity" itself has been stripped away because "culture" has been erased. Many of today’s residents feel that writing down "unreal" stories lacks practical significance.

Not to mention, in this era after the great merging of text, we haven’t yet honed "a beauty of language acceptable to everyone"—not that this language is inherently ugly, but that it has had no chance to form into something beautiful.

The 212 years since the war of Ascension is a period nearly devoid of literature.

As for why I say "nearly," it’s because the oral tradition of collective creation has never ceased.

As far as Xiang Shan knows, among the few lengthy stories that Babbitt tells, one includes "the legends of the Martial Gods." These are portrayals that came after collective artistic refinement of the stories of the Martial Ancestors’ Personality Masks.

Apart from the Eighth Martial God, who hid until death without turning into a dragon, all the Martial Gods made resounding achievements in the Solar System. Even the Eighth Martial God shook the whole world at his death. These "Xiang Shans that are not Xiang Shan" left footprints in the world, footsteps that were collected by interested parties and then connected through artistic expression into complete, opera-like stories.

This program caters to the people of Jianghu or young people aspiring to enter Jianghu. To the average person, the Martial Gods are but nebulous entities, something like "oh, I think I’ve heard of that." But the people from Jianghu are quite familiar with these stories. No matter which part they start listening from, they understand the causes and consequences.

It’s like how "Three Kingdoms" can be broken down into individual stories like "Mount Dingjun" or "Battle of Changsha," or "Journey to the West" can be told through episodes like "Havoc in Heaven" or "Three Battles with the White Bone Demon."

Of course, some of these segments make Xiang Shan feel... quite embarrassed when he listens to them.

However, the stories of the Martial Gods can’t always be told. Doing so has a certain chance of inviting government crackdown. Even under Dyson’s principle of no taboos, to tell the stories of the Martial Gods is akin to promoting the ideas of the Martial Ancestor, spreading chivalry — which in the logic of the government "can be defined as anti-human."

Otherwise, Babbitt wouldn’t need to worry about what to broadcast each day.

"If you want to tell a story of the new era, then why don’t you talk about your own story?"

Xiang Shan asked in this way.

"My story..." Babbitt was taken aback, "You mean my own affairs? How can I tell if I’ve had any earth-shattering experiences myself?"

"Mr. Maupassant didn’t ride in a carriage with a woman named Tallow Ball, nor did he have an uncle named Ule," Xiang Shan said. "What do you think, how did they come up with those stories?"

Babbitt pondered for a moment, "I’ve never thought about this. But I just feel... my own story might not be as good as those from the past."

Xiang Shan said, "And what do you think writing stories is about?"

Babbitt thought about it but still shook his head.

Xiang Shan asked differently, "Then, among the ’things that happened in this era,’ is there anything that makes you feel ’everyone should know about it if possible’?"

Babbitt’s eyes lit up, "You know what I’m talking about, Great Hero. The one from three years ago."

Xiang Shan spread his hands, "Go on, tell me about it."

"Three years ago, a Great Hero assassinated a leader within the heavily guarded Scientific Knight Order. While retreating, a singer named Crab went inland near Pine Eagle City to broadcast the movements of the Pine Eagle City troops, to prepare the Great Hero for what lay ahead."

"Mr. Crab faced the government’s crackdown and was hit by a mid-range Tactical Missile. But his sacrifice was definitely not in vain... it should not be, right? I heard that a Protector Lord who was pursuing the Great Hero was also slain in the fray."

Xiang Shan spread his hands, "You see, the foundation for a good story is already there, isn’t it?"

Babbitt seemed troubled, "But this is too short, isn’t it? It’s only about a hundred words, and it’s over in a minute or two."

Xiang Shan, with his arms crossed, said, "Is there anything in this story that you don’t know?"

Babbitt scratched his head, "I don’t know Mr. Crab at all, I have no idea what kind of person he is. There are some recordings of his broadcasts on the internet, but they are incomplete. All I know is, he was a good person who liked to sing."

"That’s enough," Xiang Shan said. "You can add the rest on your own."

Babbitt was confused, "But, I don’t actually know the specifics about Mr. Crab..."

"Use someone else’s story, your own experiences, or even a story you’ve made up," Xiang Shan said. "All of this is free for you to do."

"But isn’t that a bit... offensive to Mr. Crab?"

"I’m not asking you to invent a story and then proclaim to the world ’This is Mr. Crab’s past,’" Xiang Shan shook his head, "You use that scene to tell a story, then tell others that the shadow of Mr. Crab is in your story."

"Ah, that..." Babbitt was like someone who had just had the doors to a new world opened to him, and was stunned.

Xiang Shan shook his head.

Such a conversation was, in his view, almost inconceivable. Anyone who had received a basic education should know what "fiction" means, most would just not know how to describe the process with refined language.

But it seemed Babbitt really didn’t understand. He couldn’t imagine how a "story" is born.

Actually, his powers of observation were pretty good. In Xiang Shan’s view, the versions of Maupassant and O. Henry that Babbitt himself had rewritten retained their original framework while being filled with flesh and blood of this era, becoming easily accepted by people of this time.

This was actually already mastering the threshold of the "literary" technique.

Yet, he couldn’t come up with the idea of "fictional stories" on his own. Although "fiction" is a human instinct, "deliberately fabricating something everyone knows is not true" was a technique that humans mastered only long after civilization was born.

If this cultural aspect is absent, then writing is just writing.

However, the moment Xiang Shan touched upon this concept... the moment Babbitt realized it, everything became completely different.

Xiang Shan asked, "Are you interested in hearing another story? A story about ’creating stories’?"

Babbitt nodded.

Xiang Shan’s story was also very old. Babbitt had collected many fragments of Maupassant online. Although Babbitt didn’t know what "France" was, he vaguely understood it to be a "collective imagined by people," so Xiang Shan didn’t change the setting.

A young soldier, who had fallen seriously ill before going to battle, had to be sent back home. The commander took this opportunity to entrust his daughter—a eight-year-old girl—to the soldier, so he could take her to France to be raised by the commander’s sister.

The commander had lost his wife early and had to keep his daughter by his side. But that battle must have been incredibly dangerous. It was the first time the girl had been away from her father and she was sullen the whole way.

The soldier tried every way he could to cheer up the girl, recounting to her every story he knew. Among them was a "Golden Rose" story—when the soldier was a boy, he had a neighbor, an old lady who owned a golden rose. She was so poor, but she refused to sell the golden rose, which, according to her, was a gift from her lover many years ago. The story claimed that whoever possessed the golden rose would always be happy. The tale ended with the old lady recognizing her son, who became a wealthy painter, and the two of them lived together.

After the war ended, the soldier became a janitor, living in penury. Many years later, he met the girl who had grown up. She had an argument with her lover and was crying inconsolably. The soldier helped the girl reconcile with her lover. At parting, the grown girl told the soldier that she still remembered the story of the Golden Rose.

"I don’t think that playboy is the one to give you the Golden Rose," was what the soldier thought. He then had an idea to give the girl a golden rose. Even though he couldn’t grant her happiness, perhaps a golden rose could.

He worked in a Gold Workshop, and every day he would bring home the dust from the goldsmithing workshop, searching through it for small grains of gold sand. He accumulated gold day after day, hoping to collect enough to craft a Golden Rose.

Many years later, he succeeded. But feeling aged and decrepit, he was too ashamed to face the girl from his past. The year he mustered the courage to craft the rose, he learned that the girl’s family had left the country. The soldier lost his will to live.

When the soldier died from illness, the only visitor was the goldsmith who had made the rose. The goldsmith received the golden rose wrapped in an old blue hairband.

Babbitt, listening to the story, felt like he was about to cry. If he had tear ducts, he probably would have cried.

Babbitt asked, "Great Hero, what does this story have to do with the topic we were discussing just now?"

"This is literature, Ba," Xiang Shan said so.