Became an American Retro Novelist - Chapter 195



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195.

Cheeeeek-!

Oh my gosh! Holy mother······!

Men wearing glasses appeared amid the searing pain. They all looked darn smart.

Hahahahahahaha······! Remember this. God! You have now been branded a graduate student and have become a graduate student! You cannot resist! Accept your fate, boy!

······It was as if I had caught a glimpse of that kind of future.

Come to your senses, you’re still on the phone.

‘Why did this novel end like this?’

I still haven’t been able to properly answer that old professor’s question.

Professor Macmillan also waited without pressing for an answer, perhaps realizing that he had asked too suddenly.

After thinking about the context and intent of the question, I slowly opened my mouth.

“I guess the professor didn’t like it.”

A slightly provocative tone.

Okay, no crazy professor would accept such an uppity guy as a graduate student.

[······Hahaha! Interesting! Did you understand my intentions with just that one sentence?]

He was a crazy professor.

It felt like the hell of graduate school was closing in on me.

In fact, the official announcement that I would be drafted as a graduate student had not yet left General Edward McMillan’s mouth, but strangely enough, I had a strong premonition that if things continued this way, it would inevitably happen.

Cold sweat ran down my back and my vision went dark.

[Yeah, it felt like the tower I had built in Part 1 had collapsed.]

“Is it okay if I ask why you think that?”

[Because I gave you the answer. Your own answer.]

ah.

I immediately understood what Edward was trying to say.

Part 1, ‘Country of Losers’, gave the readers something to think about and ponder until the end. And it caused a clash of opinions between them. Even now, outside of California, such things are happening belatedly. That was also one of the ways to enjoy this novel.

But part 2 was the exact opposite.

In Part 2, I clearly presented my conclusions regarding ‘The Book’ and ‘Humanity’.

Whether or not they are ruled by the great being called The North, humans are valuable simply for their existence. Rather, The North, which is subordinate to human happiness and rules over them, is more unfortunate.

It was a classic message, but that’s exactly what I meant.

People of this era think that some great evil will rule the world and make humans suffer.

But that wasn’t the case. In the future I experienced, people suffered because of the group consciousness they had created. They slandered each other, hated each other, and the process of destruction was something that everyone did together. The people of the future were both Nazis and Jews who were sacrificed to them.

But if we write only about that, this work is nothing more than an essay predicting the future.

That’s why I put in ‘The Book’, a tool that can make people happy.

The North rules over humans and how it makes them happy.

I wanted to show the human dignity that is revealed or destroyed in the process through various characters, and to reach my own conclusion through a story woven together with the imagination of drawing fiction.

No matter how much the North dominates humans, humans are still humans.

So, in fact, I did not only affirm human existence throughout the novel.

Humans are extremely selfish and ugly creatures. And furthermore, aren’t those poor creatures created by human hands so obsessed with the sole purpose of ‘making humans happy’ that they are completely incapable of making any other judgments?

In this way, humans slander and antagonize each other and bring misfortune upon themselves. It would be better to be under the rule of the North, even if it is crooked. But what can we do? Just as humans have done until now, we can find happiness even if we fall and collapse. We must live our lives preciously.

I tried to write with a consistent direction to show my own answer.

[I understand that. But I wonder if it was really necessary to show you the answer.]

But Professor Edward MacMillan says he doesn’t like my answer at all.

“Then I guess I should answer more seriously.”

I think this is a response to readers who ‘dislike’ this novel, and I approached it in a slightly more fundamental way.

Yeah, that definitely could have been the case.

The message of Part 2 was opposed to the ‘ambiguity’ shown in Part 1. Therefore, readers, especially those who wanted to believe in the happiness that The North presented, clearly had the right to protest against it.

So I answered like this.

“Because this is a ‘genre novel’.”

I thought genre fiction was a novel that used a clearly standardized grammar, and that it was content that should provide readers with ‘enjoyment’ that fit the grammar, not ‘teaching’ them. It had to be worth the money and time they readily paid for it, or even more.

So-called commercialism.

To briefly explain Part 1, I hoped that readers would enjoy thinking about the essence of humanity that transcends the times through ‘shock and horror’ filled with science fiction imagination.

And in Part 2, the value that the author wanted to give to the readers was ’emotion and salvation’.

Even though it is a fantasy, I wanted to depict the fierceness of the struggle and religious thoughts to reveal the meaning of human existence, and through this, I hoped that readers would believe in the value of humanity and be able to affirm their own lives a little.

“Professor, you once told me that you enjoyed reading my ‘Mother’?”

‘Mother’ was a work that my ego was a little stronger in. The destructive ending of the horror genre itself contained the despair I felt about ‘racial discrimination’.

In some ways, it may be that his debut work was more enjoyable to read because it was more purely literary than his later works.

Professor Macmillan, who had been silent for a moment after hearing me speak, soon burst into laughter again. ‘Hahahaha!’

······It was an ominous smile that seemed to indicate that he liked me.

[I see. That was the genre. I was short-sighted.]

“No. Opinions may vary.”

[Are you saying that I liked the ending of Part 1 better?]

“Of course.”

[Then I guess you could say it this way. ······I thought the reason I didn’t like the ending of Part 2 was because I was too old. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen all sorts of people for so long that I can’t easily accept the negative aspects of humans.]

“I also think it’s difficult. But that’s why I have to try.”

[Until the moment of death?]

“Yes. So you’re not human?”

[That’s right. That’s why it’s a difficult thing to say.]

“······.”

[Anyway, I’m sorry for interrupting you during the vacation. I’ll treat you to a meal when school starts.]

“Oh, no! Hey! Professor, I’m honored that you called!”

[No. There’s a restaurant nearby that I often go to whenever I have a conference.]

Professor Macmillan insisted on buying me food until the end, even though I was practically begging him.

······If I were to regress again, I thought it would be better not to go to college.

***

Time passed and it was the end of August.

Just as I was about to leave California and return to Stanford, I received another phone call.

[Hello. Do you have any questions?]

“Yes. I am a new Korean.”

[Oh, God. It’s been a while. It’s me, Jeffrey Bergman. Do you remember?]

It was definitely the upperclassman who guided us when we were freshmen.

I answered, remembering his face.

“Of course, Jeffrey. What brings you here?”

[There are new students coming in this year. If it’s okay with you, can I ask you to give a speech in front of the kids?]

“Me?”

[Yeah. I thought about it, and I don’t think there’s anyone else who’d be better suited for it. Oh, I enjoyed the second part that came out recently. It was really fun. I was surprised at how you could write something like that. As expected, you’re a really great writer.]

“Oh, thank you. But what is a speech?”

[Nothing much. When you first entered college, there was a beer party where we all got together. You know, when one of us talked about what the school was like and what kind of mindset you should have when you go into college?]

“Yes, roughly.”

Actually, I was so absorbed in the beer at the time that I didn’t hear it at all.

[You can do something similar to that. Can I ask you something?]

“······hmm.”

I was lost in thought for a moment.

It was an interesting suggestion.

I’m not the type to stand up in front of people and speak, but I still wanted to go because they had the divine drink called ‘alcohol’ there.

Surprisingly, even though I was a college student, I still had about a year left before I could drink alcohol ‘legally’, so those opportunities were precious.

······Oh my, my mouth is watering.

“Then, can I ask you one favor?”

[What is it?]

“Do you usually only drink beer at parties?”

[No, you can do it freely as long as it is within the membership fee.]

“······Do you also accept donations for the membership fees?”

There was a drink I wanted to drink.

***

Fortunately, Jeffrey Bergman readily accepted my offer in return.

Normally, the journey back to Stanford away from my family and friends would have felt a little heavy, but once I learned that I could drink as much as I wanted, I moved forward with a frighteningly cool head.

First of all, I delegated all the remaining work to Simon.

[Don’t worry, author! I’ll take care of everything!]

As expected, he was a trustworthy editor.

He was the best. I trusted him to handle everything from dealing with Remy Martin to the distribution of the second part while I was staggering around like an uncle with alcohol issues.

After rushing back to school like that, I decided on a donation amount that would not be burdensome to the society, and combined it with the aforementioned membership fee, I thought about the most delicious drink I could make.

The party drink decided upon was none other than ‘Jungle Juice’.

Jungle juice.

A mixture of alcohol and beverages, or cocktail, said to have originated in Colorado in 1909.

It is made by mixing various fruits, juices, and alcohol, but the most important thing here is the alcohol.

“Let’s go with vodka.”

Meeting regarding the freshman welcome party.

I spoke forcefully in front of the gathered academics. Everyone looked a little dumbfounded.

“Uh, uh. God?”

The creative writing department president looked at me with a worried expression.

“Is the budget okay?”

“Yes. Vodka is the drink that kept the Soviet Union from freezing to death.”

“I’ve never had it before······.”

“me too.”

“Me, me too.”

One by one, people from the literary and creative writing department raised their hands, no, their drinks.

I too was dumbfounded in front of him.

‘These people are real.’

While I was going to school, I somehow thought that I didn’t know how to have fun, but I didn’t think it would be to this extent.

How can a grown man say he can’t drink alcohol?

······I pushed aside the feeling of wanting to scold him and explained calmly.

“It’s okay. It has a high alcohol content, but I’m going to mix it with a drink. It’s sweet and delicious.”

“Wouldn’t beer be okay?”

Those were Jeffrey’s words.

“No. Beer is an unfamiliar taste to first-time drinkers, so anyone who drinks Jungle Juice, which has a strong soft drink taste, will be able to accept it without any difficulty.”

“Surely, God is right.”

The female student next to the president agreed.

“Last year, some of the freshmen couldn’t even finish a can of beer. It’s a celebration event where we gather the kids and celebrate their college years, but if they can’t enjoy themselves properly, how can that be?”

“that’s right.”

“Right!”

As everyone agreed one by one, the president of the association, who had been pondering, asked this.

“So, God, you know how to make jungle juice?”

“Of course.”

In my previous life, I liked alcohol as a writer, so I knew how to make Jungle Juice Grandpa.

“How’s the recipe?”

“Ice, vodka, and various fruit juices. That’s it. Sometimes we add real fruit to make it more fruity, but because of the price, let’s go without it this time.”

“Oh, I’m close with the cafeteria lady, so it’s easy for me to get some leftover fruit.”

“It’s fantastic.”

My eyes sparkled with excitement for a moment.

Alcohol was a culture(?) that was enjoyed by smelling it, looking at it with one’s eyes, drinking it with one’s mouth, and enjoying the atmosphere, so to speak, using all five senses.

That’s why if there were a lot of fruits on top of the jungle juice, everyone would be excited and drink it, saying it was new and pretty. Then, the event would go even better according to its intention.

“Then let’s do this. Jeffrey, are you over 21?”

“Scholarship President. I was born in June. I can buy you alcohol.”

“Go and buy some vodka. There will be about 50 people. How many bottles will be enough?”

50 people, so 50 bottles.

I was about to say that when I came to my senses and spoke.

“Let’s go with the fever.”

“Okay. Lena, are you really close with the cafeteria lady?”

“You’ll be my new mom soon.”

“Good. Go get some fruit. God, what kind of fruit do you need?”

“Anything juicy and sweet.”

“Orange?”

“Yes, orange.”

“Ice, Eric, can I ask you a favor? You’re from the North.”

“······I don’t really know what it has to do with where you’re from.”

Eric, the Viking of the North, grumbled.

In a situation that seemed like something out of a spy movie or a medieval fantasy film, the president of the academy finally gave me a mission.

“god.”

“Yes, President.”

“Can I ask for a drink that would go well with the recipe? If you need help, I can send someone over.”

“If that’s the case, you have good friends.”

I answered with a bright smile.

Yes, there was a guy who would follow along excitedly, saying that it would be a lot of fun, and a guy who would analyze it coolly, saying with a serious face, ‘Wow, alcohol destroys human brain cells and turns them into beasts.’

***

The first day of school has finally arrived.

While the freshmen were going through their orientation like I had a year ago, I drove John and Rebecca out of the dorms, who had arrived on time, and after roughly calculating the four-to-one ratio in my head, I slurped down whatever drinks I could find to go with the ten bottles of vodka.

In the 80s, drinks were also special.

At a time when food-related laws were not as thoroughly enacted as they would be in the future, each company used every means possible to make delicious drinks as cheaply as possible. The resulting ‘cheap drinks’ were nostalgic and strangely went well with alcohol.

I started carrying all kinds of brands of orange juice, lemonade, grapefruit juice, cranberry juice, coconut juice, etc. to the school’s clubhouse.

By then John had gone back to the dormitory to explain the situation to the freshmen, just as Jeffrey had done the year before, and to tell them that he would pick them up later that night.

I poured the fruit juice, the alcohol Jeffrey brought, and the fruit into a large bowl I bought at the supermarket and started mixing them haphazardly.

Then, Rebecca, who was standing next to him, asked with a slightly surprised look on her face.

“Hey, God?”

“Yeah, Rebecca.”

“Where did you learn this?”

“From Hawaii, to my father.”

I lied without even wiping my mouth shut.

“Have you prepared what you’re going to say later?”

“Of course. Don’t worry.”

I was just going to say, ‘Drink.’

So I made a jungle juice with things like oranges, grapefruits, limes, and lemons all mixed together, and I put the cup into a bowl like a ladle, scooped up a glass, and then I floated a few ice cubes that were still in the refrigerator in it and handed it to Jeffrey Bergman.

“Here, try it.”

“······hmm?!”

His eyes widened.

Rebecca, who had been watching with an unsanitary gaze from the side, eventually couldn’t hold back her curiosity and took a sip. Then, her face suddenly turned red, her eyes widened, and she said this.

“Wow, my goodness. This is really delicious.”

In front of that, I thought.

This is real college life.

Welcome, newbies. I’ll treat you well.