Roman Roulette - Countryhumans America x China

Velvet

At the crack of dawn the next day I was unceremoniously roused from a dream by my half-sister Japan. With her gasping, office clothes, and dishevelled look, she didn't go home to sleep but came to pick me up and go immediately. The tiny shafts of light that could squeeze through my paper conglomerate showed the dust notes swirling from Japan's presence, I could make out that all my delicately balanced towers that art of on the floor was a big mess now. Stifling a sigh, I got up to get ready, Japan swarming around my heels, tugging my robe, begging to hurry up.

"What?" I finally snapped. "If we go five minutes later, it won't kill you, will it?"

"Um, no." She hung her head, guilty. "Sorry."

"Let me get ready, then." I closed the door in her face. I shouldn't have gotten so mad at her, but yesterday's stresses and life, in general, has gotten me in a tailspin. After I had changed into more comfortable, western-style clothing, I wasn't even allowed to get something to eat before being pushed down the stairs and out on the street where Japan didn't even bother turning the car off.

"What about packing?" I protested.

She shoved an old and dusty black suitcase at me. "You had one packed in your closet already," she grinned. "No more waiting, let's go!"

"You mean you took my very important crisis suitcase?" I asked as she turned her radio on.

"Whatever it was," Japan shrugged. "I'm sure it has everything you need." I didn't even try to argue at this point, since we hit the highway and soon enough got stuck in traffic. My half-sister, who always liked speed and ergonomics, was very disappointed by this unexpected obstacle.

"Hah," she sniffed. "What is this?"

"A delay," I yawned from the back. "That means we have to wait, Japan."

I could see her pouting in the front. "I hate waiting,"

"Really?" I asked in mock surprise. "How interesting. Never knew that." Her response was an attempted swat at my head.

"Hush, you." She muttered. I said nothing but inwardly smiled. Bit by bit, slowly but steadily, the city scene receded to the rough outskirts where those who couldn't afford it, lived. Broken bottles, upturned trash cans, and litter lined the roads. The crawling cars passed by at the speed of three kilometres per hour, so I was freely able to have a better look at the peisage unfolding around us. Boarded-up storefronts turned to iron-roofed villages. Graffiti lined streets morphed into sod grasslands. Streetlights became rarer, and soon we had broken free to the greater country. Japan accelerated up to one hundred when the last car exited, and now the scenes flash by fast. Grass, grass, grass. A house in the middle of a wheat field. Birds flying above a grand steppe. An abandoned railroad track, its metal rusted and beaten. Somewhere, sometimes, the sod became hard, cracked dirt, the kind I used to mix with water and play with when I was a little boy. Then I was lost to the strange new terrain, where dust and sand and lack of water reigned. The flat road, flat land, never wavering, never rising was all very new to me. Water windmills stuck out like signs along the lonely road, and I was almost asleep in my seat when Japan's shriek of delight snapped me out in a second.

"Eeeeeeeeee!"

"Oh, Japan!" I complained. "I was almost asleep."

"There it is," she pointed. "Loooook!"

"I'm looking,"

"Isn't it beautiful?" She gushed, although I'd say it depends on the person. Beauty is a spectral scale, not a categorical one. And staying true to my biostatistical studies, I confirmed it by looking at the bizarre city that flowered out of nowhere.