CH4 - Torrance New Media

Suddenly, I became aware that the overall social landscape of 1980 was vastly different from the future. 

The most striking difference was the significantly lesser amount of information available compared to the future. 

In this era, without even the development of the Internet, let alone smartphones, individuals had to rely on rumours, print media, radio, and television to acquire knowledge. 

In other words, the quality and quantity of information available to each person were inevitably much less, leading to narrow-mindedness. 

In this complex world, people lived based on the limited information they had chosen to acquire. 

I thought that most of the conflicts humans experience originated from there. 

With limited information, misunderstandings accumulate, leading to conflicts. 

However, another thought also crossed my mind: 'So what?' 

Narrow-mindedness has been an emotion that has significantly aided human survival since ancient times. 

By being wary and rejecting what is different, humanity has escaped potential threats, spread its progeny, and prospered.

The problem was that this attitude adversely affected my current daily life, memories, and even the future. 

What particularly resonated with me was its impact on 'everyday life'. 

While reading novels published in 1980 and continuing my trend research, I maintained my life going between school and home, typical for someone my age of sixteen. 

I kept adapting to this era. 

The high school I attended, Central City Valley High, was in a district with a good racial mix and safety. 

Yet, even in such a school, discrimination existed as if it were natural. 

Often, I saw students hesitant or uncomfortable mingling with other races.

During a particularly popular gym class,

"Alright, everyone, get ready to pair up in teams of two for the warm-up exercises," said Mr. Irvin, the gym teacher.

The students naturally formed teams with others of the same race. 

Watching from behind, I observed the reactions of the odd ones out. 

They only hesitated, with no one readily stepping forward to pair with a student of another race.

"What are you waiting for? Hurry up."

Mr. Irvin was likely aware of this atmosphere but hurried things along, perhaps to gloss over any discomfort.

'Sure, it must be uncomfortable.'

It had only been a week since school started, and there hadn't been much opportunity to interact with students of different races. 

However, it seemed too much to actively avoid and feel uncomfortable about it. 

I approached a Hispanic boy nearby and boldly started a conversation.

"Shall we partner up?"

"…No."

I was rejected all too easily.

However, my action seemed to have made up everyone's mind.

"Let's do it together."

"Sure."

"Who wants to partner with me?"

An opportunity for interracial interaction had occurred, and I was left alone.

I had forgotten.

Asians were almost the lowest class among the races in America.

It was only natural for everyone to feel uncomfortable when Asians, known for being submissive and obedient, suddenly took the lead and tried to set the tone… was complete nonsense.

Left alone, I clenched my teeth and approached Mr. Irvin to protest.

"Sir, I don't have a partner."

"Oh, you can partner with me, Han."

Fortunately, Mr. Irvin did not reject me either.

***

The first Sunday since returning to 1980.

I went to church with my mother.

The tight black bow tie and checkered shirt were quite uncomfortable. But when going to church in 1980, it was always necessary to adhere to such an uncomfortable semi-formal attire because, for Koreans of that era, the church was a place of social and cultural exchange.

My mother and I had been attending church for quite a long time, even after my father passed away. Rather, my mother attended church more diligently, seeking to live through communication with other congregants.

As I said, in the 1980s American society, the Korean church was essentially a social club.

'We had to go to church to survive.'

'It was a truly bitter reality.'

I smiled bitterly while listening to the hymn playing in the old car.

"Give thanks before the Lord of all! Sing praises while worshipping~!"

Suddenly, I became interested in the lyrics.

'What exactly are these lyrics about?'

As it was a Korean church, the first generation of Koreans sang hymns in Korean, intending not to forget their roots, and people like me from the second generation followed along sporadically. But I faintly remembered that it had completely switched to English by the third generation.

My mother, fluent in Korean, sang the hymn and then quietly spoke to me.

"Doesn't it sound really good, Shin?"

"…..Very good."

I raised my thumb awkwardly with a smile.

"It's a song that blows away the fatigue of the week. Want to sing together?"

"O, Of course."

I sang the hymn awkwardly.

It had been a year since my father passed away, and my mother always tried to act cheerfully, probably for my sake. Suddenly remembering this fact, I joyously sang the hymn with her in our awkward Korean.

Before long, we arrived at the Korean church located in a quiet suburban area.

It was crowded with Koreans who had all dressed quite formally.

Stepping out of the car, my mother took a light deep breath and moved forward to greet the congregants.

"Ah, Deacon Kwon! Hello!"

"Soon-bok! How have you been?!"

"I've been well! How about you lately!"

"Don't even ask! Do you remember my daughter?"

"Mi-jeong? Oh my~ Of course! How could such a beautiful child be forgotten!"

"She recently broke through the regional preliminaries in the piano competition and made it to the state competition! The house has been in chaos because of it!! They're flying to New York and buying plane tickets—it's like feeding a money-eating hippo, a hippo!"

"My goodness, your daughter must be quite skilled at the piano!"

"Haha, she's just okay! How have things been with you, Soon-bok?"

"Shin-ah just started high school."

"Oh? Really? Where?"

"Central City Valley High School."

"Where was that again?"

"Uh, well…"

My mother hesitated for a moment, and I couldn't stand by and watch.

"Deacon Kwon, may I ask you something?"

"Hmm? What is it?"

Deacon Kwon turned to look at me.

"Do you use any particular cosmetics?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Shin-ah!"

"No, it's just that, Deacon Kwon, your skin looks so good that I wanted to gift my mother the same cosmetics for her birthday."

Silence fell for a moment.

Then Deacon Kwon burst out laughing.

"Hahaha! You! You won't starve wherever you go! How do you speak so charmingly?"

"Me? Where am I going?"

"Haha! No, no! Soon-bok! You've raised your son well!"

"Th-thank you."

My mother smiled awkwardly at Deacon Kwon's praise and then turned to me with a long sigh as he walked away.

"Did you just help Mom out?"

"Maybe."

I pretended to be clueless, and my mother, chuckling, led the way forward.

The vast jungle we were thrown into was American society itself, and likewise, this small Korean community was not easy either. From the butcher Mr. Park to the meddlesome yet well-liked Koreans, they treated my mother and me as inferiors and subtly disregarded us.

'The problem was that we had no choice but to conform.'

Still, I couldn't entirely view them as bad. When they needed something, Koreans would come to our store out of a sense of duty and buy things. This allowed me to attend college safely.

While making our rounds and chatting, I used my youth as an advantage to intervene whenever Koreans tried to overstep with my mother. Everyone backed off with a smile at my innocent-faced compliments, and my mother and I attended the service without major issues and returned home.

My mother said to me, "I'm so proud of you today, Shin-ah."

"Ah, don't mention it."

"Normally you do, but especially today. Is there anything you'd like for dinner?"

"Anything you cook is great, Mom."

"Really? Then I guess I'll have to show off my skills today!"

Feeling cheerful, my mother hummed a tune as she entered the kitchen. I watched her back, loosened my bowtie, and climbed the stairs. Entering my room, I took a deep breath.

"I need to get started."

I no longer wanted to sit by and let this narrow-mindedness invade my daily life.

A week since returning to 1980, I had read every novel I could find from memory. Now, I pondered what kind of novel I would write in this era. The debut work is quite important for a writer.

I holed up in the closet and finally came to a difficult conclusion.

'Horror novel.'

The reason was simple.

The genre fiction market, even when presented in the best light, ultimately depended on mainstream appeal.

No matter how well-written a piece was, it was meaningless if the public did not appreciate it.

The most crucial aspect was how much new flavour a writer could add to what the audience wanted, mixed with their own personality.

However, I wanted my debut work, at least, to truly reflect myself.

'Because I couldn't do that in my past life after learning the rules.'

That's why I almost stopped writing altogether towards the end.

Perhaps it was a way to resolve my frustrations.

But that didn't mean I believed that openly writing the novel I wanted would necessarily lead to success.

Even if I wrote well, would everyone appreciate it if an Asian became a barbarian and cured the prostitute queen of her STDs?

Unlikely.

'That's the first reason I chose to write a horror novel. An Asian wouldn't feel out of place.'

The second reason was due to the characteristics of the horror genre itself.

Fear stems from the unknown.

And it breeds narrow-mindedness.

Americans of this era, accustomed to limited information due to media constraints, subconsciously thought that an Asian with a Fu Manchu moustache performing bizarre rituals could bewitch people.

However, this made for an entertaining genre novel based on the public's perceived reality.

Therefore, the subject of 'Asians,' as seen through the lens of bias, was inevitably a major theme in horror novels.

However, here I had an idea to cleverly twist the cliché, planning not to settle for a novel that merely depicted Asians as simplistic stereotypes.

'That's right.'

My resolve flared up.

Seated, I took out the paper and pen I had prepared earlier.

Before starting to outline my plot in earnest, I opened the 'newspaper' placed next to me to reaffirm my target.

In the current era, genre novels were primarily serialized in magazines and newspapers.

Magazines like Guns and Swords mostly held competitions, and many were continuously open for submissions.

Newspapers like the 'Los Angeles Times' chose to accept works from well-known writers internally.

But the newspaper I chose was not one of those.

'Torrance New Media.'

A daily newspaper centred in Torrance, a city in California.

This outlet was always open to serial submissions because it published advertisements on its page.

Being a small newspaper, it had to choose this method.

More well-known writers would go to higher-tier newspapers.

I read the advertisement for ongoing submissions printed in the newspaper again.

==

Torrance New Media is seeking novels for serialization.

Eligibility: None.

Categories sought: Horror, SF, Mystery, and other genre novels.

Submission Method: Submit a five-episode script and a proposal via mail to the newspaper.

Work Specifications: Each episode should be around 500 words, aiming for a complete story in about 20 episodes.

Recruitment Period: From 1980.8.1 until the recruitment is complete.

Inquiries: Call the newspaper and dial extension number 3 for Simon Carver, the journalist in charge of the culture section.

==

The reason I chose this newspaper over magazines or other newspapers was twofold, just like my reason for choosing to write a horror novel.

Firstly, newspaper serialization tends to demand more mainstream appeal compared to genre fiction magazines, and I thought my debut work would be suitable here.

Secondly, it was connected to the knowledge of the future I possessed.

This newspaper has a right-wing inclination.

Although California will be known as a stronghold for the Democratic Party in the future due to its strong left-leaning tendencies, at this time it was still considered a moderate state.

However, even in such circumstances, most Californians preferred subscribing to the 'Los Angeles Times,' which has a left-leaning bias, because it was a larger newspaper and well-produced.

But due to the outcome of the 'Presidential Election' at the end of this year, subscribers to the Torrance New Media will unusually increase as a reaction against the left-leaning Los Angeles Times.

I planned to 'insert a straw' into this newspaper in preparation for that time.

TL Note - 

Dr. Fu Manchu is a supervillain who was introduced in a series of novels by the English author Sax Rohmer beginning shortly before World War I and continuing for another forty years.