The Best Director

Chapter 140: Chapter 140: Just Hurting Each Other

On September 12th, the sun rose as usual, yet the terrorist attack that had shocked the entire planet the day before was indelibly etched in the memories of people worldwide; even the cheerful sunlight was unable to dispel the shadow and sorrow in their hearts.

The Twin Towers of the World Trade Center had completely collapsed, with massive fires burning amidst the rubble. Rescue workers cleared debris and tried to save survivors buried in the wreckage. New York was still in a semi- paralyzed state; flights across America were grounded, with 48 states halting all commercial and private flights, and American airspace was closed for three days; The whole economy also came to a standstill, and there were rampant rumors and widespread fear among the populace; U.S. armed forces worldwide were on high alert, and war seemed to be Touch & Go…

All night long, Jessica tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she was met with terrifying darkness, images of people jumping from buildings to escape, the collapsing World Trade Center, crowds leaving Manhattan, the possibility of a second round of attacks, death… and that smiling face, a face that kept her awake with worry.

How is he doing now? Jessica leaned on the couch, watching the live broadcast on the television screen, and was about to pick up the phone to try calling him when suddenly she heard the sound of the door and that familiar voice, “Jessie, I’m back!” She stood up in surprise, her mouth wide open, and hurriedly walked towards the door, not even bothering with her slippers. Wang Yang was standing there with a duffel bag on his back, looking travel-worn, and he smiled, “I’m back.”

“You…” Jessica looked at him expressionlessly, her heart thumping rapidly, restraining the urge to throw herself into his arms as she asked, “Why are you here? Weren’t you staying in New Jersey? You promised me…”

Wang Yang smiled gently, putting down his duffel as he said, “Yes, I did promise you. But I wanted to see you, to be by your side, so I came back.” Jessica frowned and blinked, then asked again, “What if there was a terrorist attack on the train? What would I do? Yang, I’m angry!” Wang Yang nodded and walked towards her, saying, “I was being reckless and childish, but I just wanted to come home and see you.”

Before Jessica could say anything more, he hugged her tightly and kissed her on the lips. She felt a true sense of relief in her heart, free from that terrible worry, now filled with contentment and gratitude. She wrapped her arms around his back, and they kissed tenderly.

Two days had passed since the 9/11 incidents, and the news was only now becoming clearer. The terrorist attack involved four civilian airplanes hijacked by Taliban militants: two crashed into the World Trade Center, one into the Pentagon, and another plummeted in Pennsylvania. There were already more than two thousand casualties estimated, including the 246 passengers on the planes, the workers in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, and hundreds of emergency responders who perished in the line of duty…

During these two days, Wang Yang stayed at home. Affected by this event, almost all Hollywood movie crews ceased production, including “Sweetheart” and “District 9”.

Now, the entertainment industry is planning a benefit telethon called “America Salutes the Heroes,” including A-list Hollywood stars such as Will Smith, Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, Jim Carrey, Julia Roberts… and many other celebrities, along with pop singers like Celine Dion and Mariah Carey, all confirmed to attend.

As a popular star among the youth, Jessica had also received an invitation. She decided to attend, presenting alongside young idols such as Kirsten Dunst. Wang Yang, being a director, was not on the invitation list, but he was prepared to make a donation, which was something he could do to help with this disaster. There was also a confidential meeting to be held at the University of Southern California the next day, with Homeland Security officials, military personnel, counter-terrorism experts and directors with rich imaginations, all discussing potential actions that terrorists might take in the future and discussing counter-terrorism strategies together.

The large television screen showed the live NBC broadcast of rescue operations. The site of the World Trade Center was still a mess, with debris stacked several stories high, twisted rebar and concrete, and ashes scattered on the ground. The huge column of smoke rising from the ruins reached the sky… Firefighters kept digging tirelessly, though it was painfully clear there were survivors buried in the wreckage calling for help through 9-1-1, yet some felt helpless to reach them.

“When the first plane hit the North Tower, we thought it was an accident… My husband, he worked on the 103rd floor of the South Tower, he…” On TV, a middle-aged white woman was crying inconsolably, her eyes already red and swollen from tears, her face etched with despair, sobbing, “He even called my cell phone to tell me about it, to tell me he was okay… He could have escaped, if only he had gone downstairs then, he…”

Her tears surged forth, and behind her stood the former World Trade Center, crying out, “I was close by here at the time, I saw with my own eyes the second plane crash into the South Tower, and then, then… then I lost contact with my husband. I don’t believe it, I don’t believe he’s dead…” She wiped away her unstoppable tears, shaking her head, “I don’t believe it. He must be alive, somewhere in the rubble, he must be alive…”

Like this woman, there were a significant number of people at the scene crying bitterly, all of whom had lost loved ones, and could only watch, praying for a miracle to happen.

On the sofa, Jessica, leaning against Wang Yang’s shoulder, wiped the tears from the corner of her eye and said sadly, “It’s too terrible. I don’t understand why someone would do this? What were they thinking, how could they do such a thing!”

Wang Yang silently hugged her waist tighter, his heart also filled with sadness and heaviness. Just a few months ago, he had lost someone extremely close to him. He knew how terrible and awful that was—to be dead, never to be seen or heard from again… Old Mr. Wu had passed away peacefully, but what about these victims? The death toll was constantly rising, but behind each “1,” there was a shattered family, a wife without a husband, children without a father, weeping, weeping…

As the two huddled together and continued to watch the coverage, the cell phone on the coffee table suddenly rang. Wang Yang reached for it and saw it was from Mark Slant. He answered, “Hello, Mark.” After greeting him, Mark Slant said, “Yang, I’ve got news, Cole Randston is dead.”

“What?” Wang Yang was suddenly stunned, frowned, and sitting up straight he asked, “Dead? Cole is dead?” Hearing this, Jessica looked at him with confusion. Wang Yang asked again, “You mean… dead as in death?” Mark Slant hummed an affirmation, “Yes, dead. He was on the plane that hit the North Tower.”

Cole was on that plane? Recalling the scene he had witnessed that day, Wang Yang momentarily found himself at a loss for words. Glancing at Jessica, who was frowning, he took a breath and said, “Um, Mark, is there anything else?”

“Yes, that’s the main reason I called you,” Mark Slant’s voice was very somber and serious, “Yang, about the ‘District 9’ project, should we reconsider our plan now? Maybe we should postpone the filming schedule?” Hearing this topic, Wang Yang couldn’t help but hold Jessica tighter, frowning, “No, I don’t want to talk about it now. And all I can think about is it, Mark, there won’t be any postponing, and certainly no cancellation.”

Mark Slant didn’t argue, but merely uttered an okay with great seriousness, “Some things have to be faced, you need to think it over carefully. After 9/11, the moviegoing mood of the audience has changed. They need something warm, funny, relaxing, but ‘District 9’- Yang, think it over, we’ll talk again in a few days.”

“Yeah, goodbye.” Hanging up the phone, Wang Yang stared blankly and raked his fingers through his hair. Postpone, cancel? No! He shook his head, unwilling to think about it for the moment, but the news from Mark Slant occupied his mind. Jessica patted him, asking, “Yang, is Cole dead? The paparazzo Cole?” Wang Yang nodded at her, “Yeah, he was on the first plane.” Both fell silent. No doubt they both had profoundly disliked Cole, but now that he was dead, killed in a terrorist attack… Watching the utterly distraught relatives of the victims on TV, Wang Yang reflected for a moment and sighed, “I don’t know, if it were just Cole, I feel absolutely nothing about his death. Maybe just a ‘Oh, that’s regrettable’, no happiness, no sadness, I don’t care.”

Jessica nodded empathetically as Wang Yang let out a sigh, spreading his hands. “I hate him. I’ve thought, ‘People like him deserve to die!’ But why couldn’t he die at some other time, in some other place? Maybe then I would have felt a little happier?” Jessica patted his shoulder silently and said, “I’ve thought about it too. I’ve thought about beating him up, beating up all those paparazzi; I’ve cursed him… and now he is really dead.”

“Death… death is such a big thing. Did he deserve to die?” Wang Yang shook his head doubtfully, “You know, death, it’s not just about one person. His family, his children, crying, crying… Let’s not talk about this anymore!” He collected himself and, with a smile, asked, “Jessie, could you grab a beer for me?” Jessica nodded, smiling, and hopped off the sofa to head to the kitchen.

Watching her cute back, Wang Yang called out with a laugh, “Just remember, only Coke! Don’t turn into a drunkard!” He turned back and opened the laptop on the coffee table, ready to check out the latest developments online.

On 9/11, the telephone systems in New York and the surrounding areas were almost paralyzed. The whole of America could only rely on the internet to find out about their family, friends, and loved ones, as well as the latest developments in the terrorist attacks. Consequently, that day became the day with the highest internet traffic in America’s history. Many news websites were so congested they too crashed, and even Google, overwhelmed, had to display on their homepage, “Dear friends, please watch TV or listen to the radio for the latest news.”

The traffic on Blogger also reached an all-time high, with the number of registered users crazily increasing by one million within a few days; this number kept soaring. Every blogger was updating their own news, eyewitness accounts from New York, and their own feelings, prayers together, accusations against the inhuman terrorists… Blogger seemed to have become the internet’s new star overnight.

As Wang Yang opened Yahoo News and casually entered a few AOL (America Online) chat rooms, he immediately saw a netizen named POOD saying, “Let’s pray for those unfortunate people caught up in this tragedy and their loved ones! May they all be safe!” Many netizens quickly followed with prayers, and he typed a prayerful message too; but then a netizen named Billy said, “I hope they all die!”

“FUCK.” Wang Yang cursed softly, seeing Billy was quickly kicked out. He opened another chat room, where people were discussing how to retaliate. KilLArab said, “We should kill all the Taliban, those terrorists like Bin Laden, and all the Arabs! They’re all garbage, not fit to live in this world!” Beckman said, “I admit it’s very Nazi, but I agree!” Peace said, “You guys are too extreme. The Iranian people are keeping a vigil and praying for us! We should only kill off the Taliban and the terrorists! They must be punished!”

That’s when a Hot-Bitch popped up, flooding the screen with, “Want to see hot strippers? Want to make love to them? Visit our website now…” Other chat rooms were also spammed by this promoter.

This was just a small part of the diverse opinions of netizens—some praying and wishing well, some calling for blood donations and contributions, some condemning terrorists, some hatefully discussing retaliation schemes; there were those who took pleasure in the misfortune of others, and some in the porn industry who took the opportunity to advertise…

“Thanks.” Wang Yang took the opened beer Jessica handed him, took a sip, and stared unwaveringly at the conversations in the chat rooms, gradually sinking into deep thought about that scum of a cop, Cole, Brianna… the damn terrorists, the innocent victims, and the family members of both the terrorists and the victims… America, the inhuman Taliban, Al-Qaeda…

Cole was dead, seemingly unworthy of sympathy, his family enduring grief; he nearly caused the death of Brianna, causing her parents unbearable loss. Did Cole deserve to die? The terrorists died. Maybe they were brainwashed or maybe something else, but they were absolutely without merit of sympathy; innocent civilians died, countless once happy families shattered. The terrorists traded death for even greater death, tears for even greater weeping.

The Taliban should be overthrown, terrorist organizations should be eradicated, but if war were waged, even more people would die, be it in Afghanistan or America, and even more would weep. Soldiers, civilians, and even those damned terrorists—would anyone cry for them? Because of kinship?

“Jessica, could you please get my storyboard and pencils for me? They’re on the desk in the study. Thank you.” Wang Yang glanced at Jessica. Knowing that his directorial mode was kicking in again, she smiled and said, “OK!” then got up to fetch them.

Wang Yang silently stared at the television screen, capturing new shot ideas that sprang to mind, waiting for Jessica to return. As soon as she did, he grabbed the pencils and the storyboard and began to sketch these new shots with bold lines.

The bald colonel was committing atrocities in District 9, killing aliens at whim. He was like the Taliban, similar to those who advocated extreme revenge, believing that aliens were scum that needed to be wiped out. During this relocation operation, he was as bloodthirsty and cruel as ever, and after killing an alien… the pencil rapidly sketched on the paper, and beside, a small alien child saw his own father being killed, holding a ragged doll in his hands, listening to the bald colonel laughing, tears streaming down the child’s face.

Eventually, the bald colonel was torn apart alive by the savage aliens, turning into a pile of flesh and blood. The pencil continued to sketch a faux- documentary news shot, and the presenter said, “In the process of capturing Wikus, we lost many excellent soldiers, and have brought unbearable grief to many families.”

“Daddy, I want my daddy…” In the news footage, the bald colonel’s young daughter cried out, holding a doll just like the one the alien child had, but hers was brand new, her little face covered with tears.

After sketching a few more shots, Wang Yang looked at the sketches on the paper for a long time, wondering who was just and who was evil. In the end, it was all just mutual harm. He suddenly turned to Jessica, who was sitting quietly beside him, and asked, “Jessie, why do these terrible things happen? You bomb me with a plane, I crash into you with a plane, I kill you, you kill me, dead people, dead people… Why?”

He frowned deeply and said, “Is this the essence of the world? Is this human nature? Welcome to Earth?”

“Hmm.” Jessica was deep in thought, the essence of the world? Human nature?… Looking into his clear eyes, she shook her head and smiled with teeth showing, “Yang, I don’t know. I don’t know about those things, but I do know that I love you.”

Wang Yang instantly smiled, all the heaviness in his heart dissipating, and he said, “Yeah, you’re right! Love, it’s a good thing, it can resolve those hideous matters. And, I love you too.” He closed the storyboard and, with a smile on his face, leaned in and said, “Come on, give me a kiss!”

“No!” Jessica said with a laugh as she dodged away, scooting to the corner of the sofa and scrunching her nose, “I can smell it, your breath reeks of alcohol, and I’m not old enough to drink, you know!” She spread her hands and said, “Plus, someone said I can’t become a drunkard.”

“OK, that guy is right, don’t be like me,” Wang Yang said with a wink as he turned his gaze back to the laptop screen. A few seconds later, his cheek was kissed by two soft lips. He turned with a smile and kissed her back.