Note from The Feline Warrior: This short story by Lingsiran is first published on Naodong Gushiban via Zhihu on June 30, 2022. The original author retains copyright over the original Chinese writing; the following English translation is the work of The Feline Warrior.
I.
The streetlights on Geometry East Street had already gone out, leaving only a faint glow from the round moon in the sky. A deserted two-story building stood by the sidewalk; in its seemingly empty basement, glimpses of dark shadows served as the only indication of a secret gathering underway.
“Our situation is becoming more dangerous,” a deep voice murmured pensively.
“I’ve heard that they’re about to announce a new decree…”
“I’ve heard that too…”
“They want to exterminate every last one of us…”
The crowd soon grew restless. Whispers, panic, and even some feebly audible sobs began spreading rapidly in the dark, confined space.
“Has there been a single good day these past years?” someone sighed while striking a match.
The match’s light illuminated the room, which was filled with one Circle after another, leaving little room in the crowded basement. The Circle with the deep voice walked to the center of the room, calling the meeting to order.
“I’m sure you already know this by now,” he declared with a serious voice, “The government is about to issue Geometry Decree No. 379, calling for a thorough purge throughout the nation, and all shapes other than Circles are to be executed.”
“We have suffered so much injustice for years,” he looked around the room, where anger and indignation were imprinted on every face. “We’ve been subject to discrimination, expulsions, and even murders at the hands of extremists. We can’t find jobs, we can’t buy food, we’re rejected everywhere no matter what we do, and we never get any semblance of justice. We’ve learned that, to survive in this society, we’d have no choice but to disguise ourselves, hiding under these covers day after day —”
He lifted his cover, revealing a Trapezoid in front of the crowd.
“We are supposed to be Trapezoids…”
Another cover was lifted.
“Rhombus…”
More meeting attendees removed their covers in silence.
“Rectangle. Sector. Semicircle. Parallelogram…”
“But they will never allow us to exist,” Trapezoid exclaimed angrily, waving his hands in the air with passion, “because they believe the world should only have Circles!”
“As Marginalized Shapes, we’ve compromised over and again, but that goodwill was never reciprocated — only met with expulsion and extermination. I think it’s time that we no longer remain silent. We should unite and fight back, change this Circle-dominated world, and reclaim the rights we rightfully deserve.”
“But…we are too weak to confront the army of Circles head-on,” commented a Sector.
“Indeed,” said a Hexagon, “I think safety should come first. We can still live if we continue hiding under these Circle-shaped covers. Why not just keep the disguise on?”
“Coward!” Full of fury, a Rectangle jumped out of his seat, pointing his finger at Hexagon’s nose. “So you’d rather live in that cover, like a rat hiding in the sewer?”
“Well, that’s better than dead!” Hexagon retorted, “Listening to you will get us all killed!”
II.
The basement erupted in noise and chaos, until the well-respected Trapezoid’s yelp brought the heated debate to a reluctant pause.
“Let’s do this the democratic way and have a vote,” Trapezoid announced. “The process will be open and transparent, and everyone can express their honest opinions. Now, stand to the left side of this room if you think we should resist; or stand to the right, if you think we should continue disguising as Circles.”
Without delay or hesitation, everyone regrouped themselves into two sharply-divided crowds.
Trapezoid began tallying the votes. “22, 23, 24… Equal number of votes on both sides so far… Oh, wait.” His gaze fixed on someone who hadn’t moved.
“Square, which side are you on?”
Square was a girl; she was Rectangle’s girlfriend. Rectangle immediately tried to pull her to the “resistance” side.
“Wait.” Square shook her head with pursed lips.
“Wait? Wait for what? Are you not my girlfriend?” Rectangle anxiously exclaimed, “Do you not envision a day when we can get rid of these covers, hold each other’s hands and openly walk in the streets?”
Tears welled up in Square’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said.
She then stepped into the crowd on the opposite side.
Trapezoid let out a deep sigh. “Meeting adjourned. The rules remain unchanged for now — we are to continue living in disguise as Circles. Until next time, ladies and gentlemen, please take care of yourselves.”
Square had a letter sent to Rectangle the next day, with a heart drawn on the envelope. But Rectangle, still angry at what he saw as Square’s betrayal, threw the unopened letter into the trash.
Rectangle couldn’t understand why Square did what she did. He loved her — he loved their similar edges, their identical lines, and the same resoluteness they shared. He understood better than anyone how much she hated living under the Circle-shaped cover, so why on earth would she make that decision yesterday?
A few days ago, just mere days ago, they had been close and intimate… Rectangle tightly enveloped Square, their lines gently intertwining.
As the resolution calling for resistance had failed to pass, Rectangle had no choice but to continue disguising himself. The world was, indeed, dominated by Circles, and all the others were Marginalized Shapes — in this round, smooth, harmonious world, where no edges, angles, or extra lines were tolerated; where everyone wore identical smiles; where nothing unorthodox was ever allowed.
For the Marginalized Shapes, surviving had become more difficult than ever with the issuance of Geometry Decree No. 379. On the black markets, prices for covers had skyrocketed to levels of insanity, but they still had to buy them — there was a Pentagon whose cover broke and didn’t replace it in time; an uncovered edge exposing his identity, he was immediately executed by a Police-Circle on patrol.
Gatherings of Marginalized Shapes also became visibly more difficult; the venue changed frequently, with fewer and fewer attendees each time. This time, Trapezoid was missing.
Leaderless and lost, everyone stared at each other until a Semicircle broke the silence. “I’m here to say goodbye,” he said.
“I found another Semicircle, and we decided to merge into a circle and live together.”
“Do you not want your diameter anymore?” asked Parallelogram, “You’ve written so many poems on your diameter; you were our greatest poet.”
“No, I don’t,” a wry look flashed across Semicircle’s face. “What good is my diameter for, when I can’t even keep myself alive? Though I used to be so proud of my poetry. But…”
“It’s useless now,” he said bitterly.
III.
A few Sectors huddled together and whispered among themselves, as though they’d just discovered a new world. Watching over them, Rectangle couldn’t help but feel a deep sorrow.
For the sake of survival, it is worthwhile to give up your unique self. Or is it…?
Semicircle recited his poetry for everyone one last time. By the time dawn breaks, his poems, along with Semicircle’s old shape, would all be buried in an invisible grave.
Everybody left after listening to his poems, except for Rectangle, who stayed at the meeting venue all by himself until the night was over. Square didn’t show up this time, either; he hadn’t seen her for a long time — she must’ve presumed that they’d broken up.
At daybreak, Rectangle silently donned his cover, blending into the crowded mass of Circles. As he walked toward Geometry Main Street, a commotion could be heard in front of him. Holding onto his cover tightly, he inched closer to the noise — it was Trapezoid. His body covered with bruises, his face pale and ghastly, his eyes tightly shut, he was hung atop the bell tower downtown for all to see, having been executed days ago.
IV.
As the news of Trapezoid’s execution spread, the Marginalized Shapes’ club had all but fallen apart. Rectangle persisted in attending every gathering, persisted in searching for Square’s whereabouts, and persisted in trying to convince every Marginalized Shape he met to unite and resist. The results, though, were always disappointing.
Blood and scars were terrorizing, while covers provided a sense of safety. They’d always say, “Just be a bit more careful, make sure not to break the cover and be seen — isn’t that all it takes to solve our problems?”
Six, five, four, three, two… The day finally came when Rectangle stood alone in the room, with no one else showing up to the Marginalized Shapes’ gathering anymore.
Friends of yesterday had either given up or, worse yet, become foes of today. With his own eyes, Rectangle had seen Hexagon in the Police-Circle uniform. Indeed, Hexagon was an actual Circle now, having ground and polished himself until every last edge and angle was gone — which must’ve been incredibly painful, but to him, the pain must’ve been a worthy price to pay in exchange for a so-called “normal” life.
Ex-Hexagon led a team of Police-Circles and raided the venues of their previous gatherings; one after another Marginalized Shape was found and then killed. From place to place, Rectangle had to keep running away and hiding; yet, in these lonely days, he could not help but miss Square, wondering where she was and how she was doing. He assumed that she might’ve ground away her edges long ago and become a safe, curved Circle, as many other Marginalized Shapes had done the same. Still, he regretted not finding out what was written in that unopened love letter — if only he’d never thrown it away.
In a world full of Circles, everyone had a tendency of converging. And interacting with Circles, too, unavoidably required him to adopt their way of life. Despite his best efforts to stay sober and awake, as time went by Rectangle’s edges and angles continued to wear down, shedding broken pieces day after day; his once-sharp lines grew increasingly blurry, becoming nearly unrecognizable as a Rectangle.
One day, while chatting with a Circle, he heard a commotion from the outside. As they stepped outdoors, the two found Geometry Main Street once again packed with crowds of Circles.
“Have you heard?” A passing-by Circle grinned, “They caught another M.S.! I sure haven’t seen one for so long, I didn’t know there are still some left in this world — this one is a female, and they’re about to burn her.”
Rectangle joined the crowd to move along Main Street, where a Marginalized Shape, tied to a round disk, was about to be executed. She was a Triangle.
Numb and desensitized, Rectangle looked on with all the Circles around him, even counting down to the inevitable in his mind — until the feeble, half-dead Triangle raised her head.
How could this be? How could this be! Rectangle’s long-dormant heart began to pound wildly — this Triangle had a face of Square!
Rectangle tried hard to push forward, though he remained too far away from the execution ground because of how much space Circles would take up.
Why was Square here? Why did she become a Triangle? Countless questions awaited answers. Nonetheless, his mind and emotions having already stiffened, every thought would take a tremendous deal of effort.
The blazing fire already lit, Triangle’s shape gradually grew transparent, revealing what was in her body — the shape of a Circle, tightly wrapped inside.
Rectangle’s dulled mind pondered for a long, long time before finally coming to realize:
She was a mother.
Memories flooded in within an instant. Now he realized why she refused to resist; now he knew what she wrote in that letter; now he understood why she’d become a Triangle — because as the most stable shape, a Triangle could offer the best, safest protection for the Circle inside her.
Indeed, everybody was born a Circle; they would then gradually grow into other shapes — in other words, their most precious and invaluable “personalities.” Yet, this world tolerated no personality; only commonality was allowed to survive.
They’d killed warriors, they’d killed poets, they’d killed friends, and now they were about to kill a mother.
Rectangle’s mouth opened wide. He wanted to scream for help, to cry, to yell, to speak loudly — but nothing ever came out of his mouth. The Circle-shaped cover had shaven and ground off the last edges and angles he used to have; the smooth curves settling into place, his body merged as one with the cover. At last, after all this time, he had finally become a real Circle.
With his mouth wide open, he nevertheless fell into confusion, forgetting what he was supposed to do. So he grinned and giggled, alongside the Circles he was surrounded by, staring at the bright flames in the middle of the town square.
V.
One year later, Geometry Decree No. 380 was announced, declaring that only Line Segments were permitted to exist.
Five years later, Geometry Decree No. 415 was announced, declaring that only Points were permitted to exist.
Ten years later, Geometry Decree No. 527 was announced, and it was written all over the whole world…
For that the world had already become a blank sheet of paper.