Notes & Queries response - What would be the effects of allowing free movement globally?

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“The Chinese Empire, which is the empire of the 21st century and the centuries that lie beyond, already extends a greater invisible reach than any other in the historical record,” said Gan Bai.

He did not frame his claim as a boast, but more as an undeniable statement of fact.

I was looking past him towards a gloomy cluster of champagne magnums. They had been pushed together into the tapering niche of a large, recessed window that faced onto the room at an unfriendly angle, seemingly against the grain of the table layout. Heavy drapes obscured a view of the Strand, deadening the sounds of the London traffic. The burnished gold labels on the sides of the bottles were garnished with giant oriental characters printed in glossy black ink. The lettering caught the light dimly, like puddles of dark liquid. The muzzle-braked bottlenecks were stoppered with enormous corks that gave them the appearance of artillery barrels.

“The Chinese incursion has yet to reach Cornford,” I remarked, as my chopsticks went chasing after a rogue bean sprout. “Then again, if the invasion is an invisible one, as you say it is, then I suppose that I wouldn't be able to see it.”

“Every household in every country, including your own, has been seasoned by the Pale Desert; the South-Eastern Desert of Ghosts,” said Gan Bai, patiently. “Our surplus land moves with the destiny of the tides, erasing the traditional borders and rendering them meaningless. Our currency follows in its wake, moving through your infrastructure, paving the way for our people. Our language and our culture will follow soon after.”

“The Great Dust has been a visitor to these shores ever since Wanli first beat the ground,” I said. “It fogged the English Channel during the D-Day landings.”

“You are very welcome,” said Gan Bai, contemplating the contents of his bowl.

“My grandmother swore that it was the product of the teachers beating their chalkboard erasers together, out of the windows of the school next door,” I said. “She fought a lifelong battle against the dust settling on her washing while it was drying.”

“And yet it always returned,” said Gan Bai. “It is the way of empires when they have momentum. Their advance may appear crude at the vanguard, but it is relentless.”

The White Sand Desert of South Eastern China, of which we had been indirectly speaking, is composed of the loose material eroded from a large underlying chalk deposit. The settlements around the fringes of the desert are known as the 'pale' or 'powdered' towns on account of the white coating of dust that covers every surface and every living thing. A disease known as 'chalk lung' is understandably prevalent in the area and is undoubtedly the reason why life expectancy is 10-15 years lower than elsewhere in China. The chalk dust that is harvested from the organs of those who have succumbed to the condition is paradoxically used in traditional medicine.

In the early 1600s, during the reign of the Wanli Emperor, a mathematician named Su Zhong calculated the lifespan of the desert by drilling down through the chalk bed until he reached bedrock and gauging the rate of surface erosion. He estimated that the region would become a desert of sand by the year 3100 (5798 in the Chinese Calendar). Dissatisfied by this answer, the Emperor commanded that the desert be beaten to disperse the chalk. This practice continued for around 70 years. Around the same time (and possibly in response to some emperoral edict) the towns that had established themselves along the borders began using the chalk dust in the production of paints and ceramics – a tradition that has endured into the present day.

It is strange that China's most enduing export, as it seeks to assert itself as the world's dominant superpower, should be these microscopic particles that shape themselves around the winds and settle in all countries. For Gan Bai, these strange eddies of dust are precursors to the fulfilment of the manifest destiny of his nation.

In my work for the Unified Wells & Aquifers Company I tend to see borders in terms of riverbanks – those hard divisions between land and water. However, there are more nebulous transitions – for example, where tributaries join, or where an estuary meets with a body of saltwater. Who knows what loose threads of rivers, trailing in the oceanic currents, connect the English coastline with distant Chinese shores.

I hope this is of help.

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This is my response to a question that appeared on the Notes & Queries page of The Guardian website on the 7th May, 2023.

The Guardian is apparently no longer happy to host my comments on their site, so it is appearing here instead.

This blog is obviously not affiliated with The Guardian. Its reference to a question that appeared in Notes & Queries is presented here under the terms of fair use.