Carlin, Rain Island
Rain Island Anarchcracy
December 17, 1935:

        The young feline waited patiently, looking on as the shopkeeper totaled his purchases up on the back of a paper bag.  Staple items such as bread, fish and milk were fairly inexpensive, but he had stopped asking for rice a week earlier. 
        It was a little hard to come by (and therefore a bit expensive) this far from Seathl. 
        He ran a paw through his short mop of dark brown headfur as he waited.  The radio on a shelf behind the counter was tuned to a station that was playing popular tunes interspersed with Christmas music.
        The man behind the counter, an imposing grizzly whose apron was a spotless white, finished adding up the total and nodded to himself.  He stuck his pencil into a pocket in the apron, smiled back at the younger fur and said, “That’ll be two dollars, fifty cents.”
        Jian nodded, almost half-bowing as he dug into a pocket and fished out his money.  He counted out three dollars and passed it to the grocer, then stood waiting as the man opened his strongbox and gave him his change.  The fifty cents would be good for a movie and a treat after dinner.  “Thank you,” he said, his English still bearing a strong Chinese accent.
        His accent was little remarked upon here in Carlin, where there was a sizeable Chinese minority who made a living operating fishing boats.  They worked side by side with the other fishermen and their families, and were even part of the same collective.
        As he gathered up the two small bags of groceries a woman walked into the store and gave him an appraising stare.  Jian submitted to it, barely looking up as he brushed past the older fur and stepped out the door.
        The old canine watched the gray-furred tabby feline walk out and as soon as the door closed behind him she rounded on the grocer.  “Honestly, Mr. O’Dell.  I’m surprised at you, letting people like that in here.”
        The grizzly paused as he put a box of licorice sticks up on a shelf and looked back at the woman.  “Why is that, Mrs. Carson?  Like what?”
        Estelle Carson was something of a town busybody; so many municipalities had them that there might even be a union, something that would appeal to the anarcho-syndicalist philosophy of Rain Island.  Her husband had died about a decade earlier and her children now lived at a comfortable distance from her. 
        She looked crossly up at the grocer.  “Why?  Because, Mr. O’Dell, that young man is – “ here she lowered her voice “ – one of those.”
        Joseph O’Dell gave her a puzzled look, then his eyes widened and he looked out the window as the feline walked by.  “Chinese?”
        “Heavens, no.  You know – one of them.” 
        O’Dell’s eyes widened and he leaned close to the old woman as he whispered, “Good Lord . . . he’s not Catholic, is he?”

        Jian noted the two talking from the corner of one eye, and pulled the collar of his jacket a bit closer around his neck as he trudged up the sidewalk to his rented room.  The bear suddenly started laughing, and he idly wondered what the joke was.
        The freshening wintry breeze ruffled his headfur and caused his ears to snap close to his head.  It was never so cold in Kuo Han, he thought to himself.
        He paused in mid-step, almost stumbling.
        “Have I been away from home long enough to forget?” he asked aloud, his Hokkien Chinese bearing a rustic accent.


Wangchung, Kuo Han
May 6, 1935:

        “And the Governor wishes it to be known that his loyalty to the Government and the Kuomintang has not wavered,” the cervine said in very deliberate tones as he walked around the office.  The musk deer spoke slowly for two reasons, to make sure that his aide was able to keep up with his dictation and to make sure that he was understood clearly.  Male musk deer are endowed with elongated canine teeth that can give them a slight lisp when speaking.  Some poets of the Imperial Court had been musk deer, and they had been prized for the gentle lilt when they spoke.
        Of course, twenty-three years after the fall of the almost universally detested Manchu Dynasty, there wasn’t much call for court poets anymore.
        But there were ample opportunities open to any fur with the drive to achieve in government.
        The slim gray-furred feline that was his secretary and aide nodded, pencil flying over the page of the notepad.  The buck smiled and patted the younger man’s head, his gesture almost possessive as he added, “But he feels that it is in the best interests of the Government that the people of Kuo Han be allowed to chart their own economic destiny in these troubled times.”  The deer stepped away and sat back down at his desk, running a paw over the mottled brown fur on his muzzle.  “End it with the usual closing, Jian.”
        “Of course, Mr. Lee,” Jian said as he stood and bowed.  “It’ll be on your desk for the Governor’s signature before lunch.”
        “Excellent,” Lee Piao said while he took up his fountain pen and made a note on his blotter.  “I am planning on a party at my home tonight.  Some dignitaries are coming from the mainland.  Would you be interested in attending?” he asked.
        Want to flaunt me in front of your wife again? Jian thought.  He bowed.  “It would be an honor, sir,” he said aloud, and left the office at his superior’s gesture.
        Jian sat down at his small desk in the outer office and fed a sheet of paper into the battered Underhill typewriter, then flexed his fingers before starting to type. 
        The paper bore the seal of the Viceroyalty of Kuo Han, a title that was very much out of date.  The island nation had been largely self-governing since the mid-20s after the Republic shattered under the combined impact of Japanese incursions and fratricidal warlords.
        His parents were small landowners in the mountainous central region of the largest island, and they had been very proud that their son had been the first member of their family to attend university. 
        Their approval turned to horrified recriminations three years ago when he returned and they had tried to arrange a marriage for him.
        Jian bit his lower lip as he typed.  It wasn’t his fault his desires were not directed toward females, but it was no use telling his parents that.  He had left his home that very night, and took up residence in Wangchung.
        Finding a job as a clerk took time, but he eventually passed the rigorous government examinations and found himself in a low-level position.  It had only been last year that the Governor’s new principal advisor, Lee Piao, had taken him out of the obscurity of the secretarial pool and made him his aide.
        The feline hadn’t liked the price that the new position demanded.  More than once the word ‘catamite’ had been muttered where he was certain to hear it, but the job had its positive side - it enabled him to afford a slightly bigger apartment and better clothes. 
        He glanced over the finished sheet of paper, noted two spelling errors and fed a blank sheet into the typewriter.  He really had to concentrate harder on his work, he mused. 
        Standing, he took off his black suit jacket and draped it over the back of his chair before returning to his task.  It was only the first full week of May but it already felt like June.  The summers in Wangchung could be stiflingly hot, and if it was this hot this early the summer promised to be a scorcher.  The two windows in his office had been open since May Day as it was. 
        He hoped he could save enough to buy a small electric fan before it got too hot.
        Finally the letter was completed to his satisfaction and he put his jacket back on before taking the paper into Lee’s office for his signature.  Lee was on the telephone – his private line – and barely acknowledged the feline’s presence as he placed the memorandum on the desk and left.
        The small clock in the office chimed twelve, and Jian carefully locked his desk before leaving the room to get something to eat.

        The government offices were a part of the Governor’s Palace in Wangchung, in the midst of a vast sea of buildings in various stages of construction or decay.  Furs of every description crowded the streets as they went about their business, and no one noticed a new face in the throng. 
        Jian liked the anonymity.
        As he walked a paw touched his elbow and he glanced aside as a tall, lean brown-furred feline dressed in a suit similar to his grinned.  “Hello, Ming,” he said.
        “Hi, Jian,” Chu Ming said.  “Going to the Jade for lunch?”
        Jian shrugged.  “I thought I might get some fish at Lu’s.”
        “That place?  You’ll be lucky to get a seat – the roaches will fight you for it,” and both felines laughed at the joke.  “Come on, let’s go to the Jade.  I’ll buy.”
        “You’ll buy?  All right then.”

        The Jade catered mainly to government employees and the food was filling, albeit uninspiring.  The two found seats and ordered.
        Jian closed his eyes partway as several diners at other tables stared at him and turned away, muttering.  They all knew him, or knew of him, and many didn’t try to conceal their feelings about him.
        Ming saw the pained look on his friend’s face and touched his paw.  “Hey, Jian.  Don’t let those idiots get you down.  I mean, look at you – good job, and you’re the Number Two man’s assistant.  A lot of furs would kill for that office.”
        “I know, Ming,” Jian said in a sullen tone.  “It still bothers me sometimes, you know.”
        Ming nodded and pitched his voice lower.  “Care to drop by tonight?”
        A ghost of a smile flickered across the gray tabby’s features. 
        Ming was a very close friend. 
        “Lee has a party at his home tonight and he asked me to attend.  Maybe later?”
        “Sure,” and the two straightened up as the waiter arrived with their food.  The chicken on their plates had been quickly stir-fried, and for once everything was seasoned properly.  Jian took up his chopsticks and started eating.  He only had an hour for lunch.
        Ming sipped at his tea and his tail flicked as he remarked, “I won’t be able to meet you for lunch tomorrow.”
        “Oh?”
        “Yes.  I’m being sent to a meeting at Liachao that’ll take most of the day.  The railroad workers there are trying to unionize.”  Ming worked for the Transportation Ministry.  While the trains ran on time, there were things that could be improved and any whiff of Marxism – for example, trades unions – had to be closely watched.  “How are things going on at the top?” he asked.
        Jian smiled and shrugged.  “About what you’d expect.  The mainland’s worried that we might secede, or cut a deal with Japan that leaves them out in the cold.”
        Ming’s eyes narrowed.  “Are we?”
        “Are we what?”
        “Planning to secede?”
        Jian laughed.  “Hardly.  The Governor talks a lot, but when the mainland says jump he’s the first to ask, ‘How high?’”  He finished cleaning off his plate, and sat back with his tea.  “He collects a lot of ‘squeeze’ from the big landowners and the industrialists to make sure that the Big Guys keep guessing.  Means a lot of bribes.”
        “Which isn’t bad for your boss.”
        “Right.  Lee makes a packet skimming his percentage off the bribes that get to the Governor.”
        “Do you see any of that?”  Ming’s expression was amused, but calculating.
        Jian winked and leaned close.  “You asking for a cut?” he asked behind a paw, and they both started to laugh.  “No, I’m fairly happy with my pay,” he said, setting his empty teacup on the table. 
       
        The two argued good-naturedly over the bill, and agreed to split it before going their separate ways.  “Remember,” Ming said as they stepped out into the street, “if you leave the party early, come on over.”
        “I might do that.  See you later, Ming, and enjoy yourself on your trip tomorrow.”  The two shook paws and Jian headed back to his office. 
        There were several more paw-written memos on his desk when he returned.  One was a request to the Foreign Ministry to give a reception for the incoming Japanese ambassador on the fifteenth.  The Governor was to attend to receive the envoy’s credentials and sign an agreement.  A small marginal note from Lee added that Jian was invited to the ceremony as part of the official staff, and the feline smiled as he read it. 
        Being noticed – in a positive way - was part of climbing up the ladder in government.
        By the time he was finished with his paperwork, it was time to close up and go home. 
        He needed a shower.  The party at Lee’s home was scheduled for eight o’clock.


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