Chapter 17

Alfred never did learn exactly what was said during that phone call. When he was done, Yong Soo had simply handed the phone back to Alfred, saying only that it had gone "all right." Feeling that it wasn't his place to press for more information, Alfred kept quiet. With him due to fly back to the states that evening and the sun beginning to get low in the sky, it was time for him and Yong Soo to head towards the airport anyway.

After touching down in Philadelphia, Alfred immediately hopped on a train to Washington, knowing that after nearly a week's absence, he would surely have something to attend to at the White House. As it turned out, the president merely asked if Alfred had had a good time and told him to begin preparing for the Chinese president's visit early the next week. That was all fine and dandy with Alfred, so he just decided to chill out in Washington until then.

He hadn't even been home a full day when he got a text from Yong Soo. He dreaded looking at it, fearing it was bad news, but he was pleasantly surprised.

Yong Soo: Hotline reopened. =ㅂ= It's something.

Alfred: Yeah, congrats!

Since it had been North who had cut off the line in the first place, Alfred figured something said in that phone conversation must have helped. Even if North didn't necessarily make the final decisions in his country, surely his input held some weight. Alfred thought he might as well send North a congratulations too.

Alfred: Congrats on your hotline!

He didn't get an answer, but he was just happy to see something tentatively positive happening between the two Koreas. As far as he was concerned, North could ignore Alfred's texts for the rest of his life as long as he was doing something to work towards peace.

His elation didn't last long, however. That same night, Alfred turned on the news, only to see clips of the Secretary of Defense (who had been in China at the same time Alfred was in South Korea) saying how North Korea was becoming too much of a threat.

"With the North Koreans' continuing development of nuclear weapons and their development of intercontinental ballistic missiles," he said, "North Korea is becoming a direct threat to the United States, and we have to take that into account."

Alfred knew it too. Thoughts of the dream tugged at the back of his mind—of North turning that gun on him and how Alfred had speculated it was a manifestation of his paranoia that North had no desire for peace. And wasn't that possible? Opening the hotline, calling for talks—all of it could just be a distraction, a little crowd pleaser to keep everyone happy while North's scientists and engineers were secretly working on a nuke delivery system behind his borders. It wouldn't matter what talks had been had or what agreements had been made if North got the power to fling a nuke into the middle of Seoul, or fire ten at the coast of California. How close might the North Koreans be? Close enough that they just needed to keep everyone distracted for a few months? It was a hard pill to swallow. Alfred had seen the power of nuclear weapons first hand, and he wasn't proud of it. It was bad enough, acknowledging that he'd once turned such power on innocents. It was worse to imagine it used on his own people, and the possibility terrified him. It was like Russia all over again, except America was scared North might actually be crazy enough to do it.

Yes, how accomplished North must feel, knowing that the thought of him ever getting a working nuke had the great United States of America scared.

Realizing that he still didn't trust North to keep his word on anything, Alfred went down to the D.C. public library the next day and checked out every book they had on North Korea. Alfred may have been around for every crazy international stunt North had ever tried to pull, but that didn't mean he knew everything about him.

In reality, North Korea was commonly referred to as an intelligence black hole. Even someone as well travelled as Alfred didn't know much about what went on behind North's borders—and he'd been there more than most people. There were the basics—that North Korea hated Japan, South Korea, and the U.S., that North Korea's economy was garbage and whatever money came out of it immediately went to the military, and that North Korea had a lot of trouble feeding his citizens.

But, even Alfred needed a refresher every once in a while, so he took his stack of books back to the White House and spent the days leading up to Chinese president Hu Jintao's big visit reading up on North Korea's history, politics, economy—anything he could find.

One day, the president entered the Oval Office to find Alfred sprawled lazily across his office chair, feet on the desk, just like he hated.

"Alfred, what do you think you're doing?" the president asked, marching across the office towards him. "Get your feet off my desk!"

"Sorry, boss," Alfred said and swung his feet back to the floor, not bothering to look up from his book. He didn't move out of the chair.

"Alfred, I need to use my desk," Obama said, leaning over the desk. He peered at Alfred's book. "What are you reading?"

Alfred glanced up and held the book's cover up for the president to view. "Just getting to know my enemy," he answered.

"Well, I'm glad you're staying in the know," Obama said, moving behind the desk now to stand at Alfred's side impatiently. "But I really do need to use that desk."

"Yeah, right, sorry," Alfred said, finally getting up from the chair. "I was just keeping it warm for ya."

"…Thanks, Alfred," the president said, grimacing as he took his seat. "Anyway, Alfred, don't forget Hu Jintao's coming in two days. I've been informed that Mr. Wang is coming as well, so if you have anything you want to discuss with him, it would be to your benefit to write it down now. I can't stress to you how important this meeting is."

"Got it."

"…And stop eating at my desk. There's crumbs all over it."

"Sorry."

The next few days were spent preparing for the Chinese guests. American and Chinese flags went up on Pennsylvania Avenue. The White House was cleaned, top to bottom. Hedges around the city were trimmed into neat, geometric shapes. The Obama administration wanted everything perfect.

They needed to impress their guests so that these conversations could go smoothly. There was a lot to talk about. Everything from trade deals to arms sales to Taiwan. It was no secret that China was a rising world power, and it honestly had Alfred nervous. Why was it always these eastern communist nations? First the Soviet Union, and now China. It was increasingly important to stay on China's good side, but Alfred also had to keep the pressure on him, or risk being run over by the growing Chinese economic machine.

Alfred was there with the president when the Chinese landed at Andrews Air Force Base just outside the city. After a blasting of celebratory music, some handshakes, and a few photos, everyone packed into a limo and drove back to the White House, where the poor driver did his best to dodge the demonstrators who had gathered in the street to protest China's Tibet policy and human rights record. Alfred sat awkwardly next to China, knowing better than to say anything about it.

Upon arriving at the White House, everyone was treated to a wonderful private dinner by the White House chefs. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. China, as usual, was smiling and telling good-natured stories intermittently in Chinese and English. Alfred listened and laughed where he was supposed to laugh, groaned where he was supposed to groan, and generally just played along. But he was still troubled. China had always intimidated him. Behind those smiles and laughs were 4000 years of experience Alfred simply didn't have. China knew how to play to his own strengths and his opponents weaknesses, and Alfred was never completely sure what he was going to be dealing with. Still, it was, in a way, thrilling to go toe-to-toe with someone like that, like China was a living enigma for Alfred to solve.

The next day, President Obama and President Hu were slated to have a series of meetings up in the Oval Office. Alfred was to play host to China, and either entertain him or have his own meeting with him until the world leaders had finished their business.

China, clearly expecting a meeting, showed up dressed smartly in an expensive suit, inlaid with silk threads that shone in a floral pattern when the light hit them right. Alfred, in his khaki slacks and a dress shirt, by comparison, was underdressed.

It wasn't like anything he and China did today would be photographed and publicized, but he could still feel the judgement the moment China walked in.

"Aiyaa, how tiring," China whined as he went to have a seat across from America. They were seated in a small side room, beautifully furnished and perfect for a small sit down such as this. "I barely get to be here a full day and already we're having meetings."

"Surely you wanted to come, though," Alfred pointed out. "Or else you wouldn't be here."

"You're right," China sang, crossing his legs neatly in front of him. "How could I turn down such a pleasant invitation?"

There was always the possibility that China's leader had made him come, but Alfred doubted it. China was always looking to rub things in his face, whether it was his age or his economy or even the Olympics.

Alfred would have been more comfortable making small talk first, but China wanted to get right to business. The two nations spent a while discussing many of the same things their leaders were in that moment. Alfred wished he'd brought notes. China seemed to be a bottomless reservoir of information, calling up tiny factoids from the back of his memory with ease, meanwhile Alfred was constantly having to pull up things on his phone to prove China wrong. ("No, see, look! That's definitely not what the stocks looked like last year. Sit down, old man.") It was a constant struggle to keep China from talking circles around him.

Eventually, talk of relations in Asia was brought up.

"Furthermore, I really wish you'd stop selling those things to Taiwan," China was saying. "You're only making things worse for her, you know! She's already so worried. You're just reinforcing her fears by convincing her she needs to be armed."

"Why don't you just lay off?" Alfred shot back, beginning to get irritated after all this back and forth with someone who didn't even seem to consider Alfred a worthy opponent. "Do you hear how manipulative you sound?"

"I'm not manipulating anybody! Don't try to turn this back around on me," China protested.

"Yeah, right," Alfred scoffed. "You know how much complaining I hear about you? Hong Kong wishing you wouldn't mess with his stuff, Taiwan wishing you'd stop acting so threatening—I could go on forever."

"It's not your business." China took a sip of the tea that had been brought out for him by a White House aide, hardly paying Alfred any attention. "Aiyaa, you're still making tea the English way? Shameful."

"It is my business!" Alfred ignored China's comment about the tea and practically threw his hands up in frustration, but he held back. He knew China wanted to see him get upset so he could make some snide comment about how immature Alfred was acting. "You know you're not their parent or brother or babysitter or whatever anymore, right? They're all their own people with their own things to worry about, but all you ever do is butt into everything to make sure it's going your way!"

"And you don't?" China blew at his tea before taking another sip.

"No!" Alfred objected. "When have I?"

"Well, you keep giving Taiwan weapons, for one," China said, holding up a finger. "Invading Vietnam." He held up a second finger. "Keeping 30,000 troops in Korea." A third. "Need I go on?"

"If I did, it was for the common good!"

"30,000 troops though? Really, America. Yong Soo's a big boy. If he doesn't need me, he doesn't need you either."

"So do you wanna explain why you won't leave North to himself, then? If Yong Soo's such a big boy, then so is his brother. You oughta let him take care of his own problems."

China simply waved his hand dismissively. "He knows what he needs to do. He's just waiting on you and your capitalist cronies."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means—"

"—Actually, no, it probably doesn't. You just want to talk down to me."

China leaned back in his seat and chuckled. He'd been smiling the entire time, knowing he was on the verge of getting Alfred to lose his temper, and he'd finally done it.

Alfred grimaced. "You're an asshole."

China only smiled wider. "Is that how you treat a guest? You really do have England's manners."

"Anyway," Alfred scoffed. "If North's open to dialogue, I'm cool with that. I just don't trust his motives."

"Well, you have that in common." China sipped his tea once more. "He doesn't trust yours either."

"You made that abundantly clear last time we talked," Alfred reminded him.

"Was I wrong?" China asked knowingly. "You've seen him since then, I heard."

"He doesn't trust me, I'm sure," Alfred answered. "But surely he understands war won't get him anywhere. I just want him to talk to South."

"Ah, we agree on something," China marveled. "I would rather see him take the diplomatic route as well."

"You only say that because you know if he drags you into a military conflict with South, you'll have to deal with me," Alfred sneered, aware of his power. "And you don't want that."

"I don't," China admitted, but Alfred knew there was going to be a catch. "You're absolutely dreadful to listen to."

The day concluded with an official state dinner, an extremely fancy event with live musical entertainment and a five course meal. The mood was jubilant, but there was still an underlying tension. Alfred's president had said that his own meeting had gone well and that he and President Hu had come to several agreements, but Alfred knew he would have said that even if the meeting had gone terribly. He couldn't let the press catch wind of a botched meeting with another world leader, or he'd never hear the end of it.

Alfred spent the next several days discussing the results of the meeting with the president, both what the leaders had discussed and the nations themselves. It was a lot of information to sift through, but at least they'd both gotten a better idea of how America and China were going to coexist in the world.

A few days later, Alfred got some good news: South Korea had accepted North Korea's invitation for official talks, which was better than any hotline they could have set up. As it turned out, Obama and Hu both wanted to restart negotiations on North Korea's nuclear program, which couldn't happen if South Korea wasn't on board. Even if these North-South talks weren't about nukes, at least the two were talking again. Finally, it seemed like they were getting somewhere.

But a few weeks later, everything was falling apart again. Alfred got a text from Yong Soo a few weeks into February:

Yong Soo: north's being an asshole again.

Alfred: dude what'd he do now?

Yong Soo: he walked.

Alfred: what do you mean he walked?

Yong Soo: he said he's done. He doesn't want to talk anymore.

Alfred: wtf why not?

Yong Soo: we couldn't agree on what to talk about.

The whole "talks" thing was actually a lot more complicated than just sitting down at a table and talking, as it turned out. The whole point of the first talks had been to lay the groundwork for higher level talks. Basically, talking about what to talk about at some later date. And the Koreas, apparently, couldn't even agree on that much.

Alfred: what was the problem? You just get together and…you talk about stuff dude.

Yong Soo: no, okay so, I wanted to talk about the attacks specifically. North still doesn't want to own up to that. He said "let's talk big picture" and talk about larger defensive things like nukes and all that. I said no, this IS a part of the bigger picture because it's all a part of the same thing, so we're going to talk about it and he just wouldn't have it. He walked and now I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

Alfred: I'll try to talk to him.

Yong Soo: okay man good luck.

Alfred immediately switched to his message string with North. He hadn't spoken to North since the day the hotline reopened because he didn't want to sound too pushy, but now things were getting pretty serious. And yet, he didn't want to just send North a wall of text in accusation without hearing what North had to say about it, so he opted for something short and sweet instead.

Alfred: call me asap.

He waited a full day for a call, figuring North was probably too busy to call him right away, but as soon as that 24 hours was up, he called North himself. He didn't answer. So Alfred called him at a different time the next day, and the next, but North never picked up.

He even texted China, thinking he might be able to do something.

Alfred: dude tell north to answer his damn phone.

Panda Wok: He's a grown man. I don't tell him what to do.

Alfred: I knew you'd be no help.

So he tried Russia next:

Alfred: do you have north's number?

Mother Bruhssia: You are wanting it?

Alfred: no I have it but I need you to call him and tell him to call me.

Mother Bruhssia: If you are having it, then why are you wanting me to call him for calling you?

Alfred: because he won't answer for me and I need to talk to him!

Mother Bruhssia: If he is not wanting to talk to you, I think this is between you and him and not me.

Alfred: dude please just do me this one thing. I'll buy you a burrito or something next time I see you.

Mother Bruhssia: I do not like burritos.

Alfred: fine I'll buy you something else. I just want you to call north for me!

Mother Bruhssia: Sorry! Boss is calling.

God. Alfred slammed his phone down on the desk. Clearly North was content to ignore him, and none of the people close to North were willing to help Alfred out here. He wanted to write North off completely, right then and there—but a nagging voice in the back of his head stopped him. You can't just ignore him, it said. What if he does something crazy and you could've stopped it? Alfred thought back to all those books he'd been reading—about how information didn't flow in or out of North's borders and how there'd be no way to tell if he was planning something dangerous. The fact that he was completely ignoring Alfred made him worry. It was almost the same scenario he'd imagined weeks ago—where North made all these diplomatic gestures to buy time so he could finish whatever he was working on. What if that was exactly what was happening? What if he was just putting the finishing touches on some kind of missile or bomb and Alfred would be at war next week?

North wanted to ignore Alfred? Fine. Then Alfred was just going to have to do something that North couldn't ignore.

So, Alfred opened Google and did what any sane person would do: he searched "how to get into north korea."

Obviously, one could just stroll across the border, but Alfred knew getting himself killed in a rain of bullets wasn't going to get him anywhere.

The first link that came up was titled "How to Travel to North Korea." Now, there was an idea. The U.S. government had lifted travel restrictions to North Korea the previous year, so technically it was perfectly legal for Alfred to go as a tourist. What if he just booked a tour with a tour group and strolled right in, legally, with everyone else? He was sure he wouldn't go unnoticed for long. Someone in the airport or the hotel or even one of the guides was bound to recognize him, considering he'd just been there a few months ago. And from there he'd surely be reported to the authorities, and his visit would eventually make its way up the chain to North, who would surely have to respond somehow.

It was stupid. An absolutely crazy idea. And yet, what options did Alfred have at this point? Talking to North in person was pretty much his only option.

Author's Notes:

- I'm sorry if China seemed kind of off. I wanted to portray him as someone really smart and calculating who hides his intentions behind a friendly exterior and makes a lot of passive aggressive comments, but it was kind of hard to translate that into text.

- January 2011 was a busy month in Asian relations.