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# Chapter 4: To 1980 (3)
I suddenly realized that the overall social atmosphere of 1980 was vastly different from that of the future.
The most significant difference was that the amount of information people could access was considerably smaller than in the future. In this era, where not even smartphones, let alone a widespread internet network accessible to the public, had been developed, individuals had to obtain knowledge through rumors, printed media, radio, television, and similar sources.
In other words, the absolute quality and quantity of information available to each person were inevitably much more limited.
That led to narrow-minded thinking. In this complicated world, people lived based on the small amount of information they selectively acquired. I believed that most of the conflicts humans experienced originated from this. Wasn't it a structure in which misunderstandings piled up and people ended up fighting simply because they possessed limited information?
But at the same time, another thought crossed my mind.
'So what?'
Narrow-mindedness had been an emotion that greatly aided humanity's survival since ancient times. By being wary of and rejecting things different from themselves, humans escaped potential threats and were able to prosper by spreading their descendants.
The problem was that it negatively affected my daily life, memories, and even my future.
The part that struck me the most was my 'daily life.'
While continuing my trend research by reading novels being published in 1980, I maintained the life of a sixteen-year-old, traveling between school and home. At the same time, I continued adapting to this era.
The Central City Valley High School I attended was located in a safe area, and the racial proportions were not particularly extreme. However, even at such a school, discrimination existed as if it were only natural. I often saw students feeling reluctant or uncomfortable about associating with people of other races.
Among the first-year classes, physical education was bound to be the most popular.
“All right, everyone. We’re going to do some warm-up exercises, so form teams of two.”
At the physical education teacher Mr. Irvin’s words, the students naturally formed teams with partners of the same race. Watching them from behind, I observed the reactions of the students left without partners because of the odd number. Everyone merely glanced around awkwardly, and no one readily stepped forward to pair up with a student of another race.
“What are you doing? Hurry up, everyone.”
Mr. Irvin probably wasn't unaware of the atmosphere either, but he tried to hurry them along and get it over with.
'Well, I suppose it would be uncomfortable.'
They had only been at school for a week, and they probably hadn't had many opportunities to interact with students outside their own race. Still, I thought openly avoiding others because of discomfort was going a little too far.
I approached a Hispanic male student standing right beside me and confidently spoke to him.
“Want to do it together?”
“……No.”
I was rejected with astonishing ease.
However, my actions seemed to have helped everyone else make up their minds.
“Let's do it together.”
“Okay.”
“Who wants to be my partner?”
A scene of interaction between different races was created, and I was left standing alone.
“……”
I had forgotten.
In America, Asians belonged to one of the lowest social groups.
Asians were known for being obedient and compliant, so when one of them suddenly stepped forward and tried to take control of the situation, it was only natural for everyone to feel uncomfortable…
Yeah, right. As if.
Left standing alone, I gritted my teeth and approached Mr. Irvin in front of me to protest.
“Teacher, I don't have a partner.”
“Oh, then you can work with me, Han.”
Fortunately, even Mr. Irvin didn't reject me.
---
The first Sunday after returning to 1980 finally arrived.
I went to church with my mother.
The black bow tie that tightly constricted my neck and the checkered shirt were extremely uncomfortable. However, in the 1980s, going to church always required maintaining this uncomfortable semi-formal attire. For Korean Americans of that era, church was a place for social and cultural interaction.
My mother and I had also been attending church for quite some time. That fact hadn't changed even after my father passed away. If anything, my mother attended church more diligently, hoping to communicate and maintain relationships with fellow church members. As I had mentioned, Korean churches in American society during the 1980s were practically social clubs.
We had to attend church, if only to 'survive.'
'It really was a bitter reality.'
I gave a bitter smile as I listened to the hymn playing inside the old car.
“Give thanks before the Lord of all creation! Let us worship Him and sing praises!”
The lyrics suddenly caught my attention.
'What on earth does this mean?'
Since it was a Korean church, the first-generation Korean Americans sang hymns in Korean to preserve their roots. Even second-generation people like me could occasionally sing along appropriately. But I vaguely remembered that by the third generation, the hymns had been completely changed to English.
My mother sang along to the hymn in fluent Korean before quietly speaking to me.
“Isn't it really beautiful, Shin?”
“……Very good.”
I gave an awkward smile and raised my thumb.
“It's a song that washes away the fatigue of the week. Would you like to sing together?”
“O-Of course.”
I awkwardly sang along with the hymn.
It had been a year since my father passed away, and my mother had always tried to act cheerful. She had probably done so for me, her son. Remembering that, I enthusiastically sang hymns with my mother in awkward Korean.
Before long, we arrived at a Korean church located in a quiet area on the outskirts of the city.
The area in front of it was crowded with Korean Americans who had gathered there. Everyone was dressed in remarkably formal clothing.
After getting out of the car, my mother took a light breath, stepped forward, and began greeting the church members.
“Oh, Deacon Kwon! Hello!”
“Sunbok! How have you been?”
“I've been doing well! How have you been lately?”
“Don't even ask! Do you remember my daughter?”
“Mi-jeong? Oh, of course I do! She was such a beautiful child!”
“She passed the regional preliminary round of the piano competition this time and is going to participate in the state competition! The whole household has been turned upside down because of it! We're buying plane tickets to New York, and she's practically a money-eating machine!”
“Oh my, your daughter must be incredibly talented at the piano!”
“Oh-ho-ho, she's only moderately good! How have things been at your place, Sunbok?”
“Shin entered high school this year.”
“Oh, really? Which one?”
“Central City Valley High School.”
“Where was that again?”
“Uh, well…”
My mother was momentarily flustered.
Unable to bear watching from the side, I stepped forward.
“Deacon Kwon, may I ask you something?”
“Hm? What is it?”
Deacon Kwon turned toward me.
“What kind of cosmetics do you use?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Shin!”
“No, it's just that your skin looks so beautiful, Deacon Kwon. I wanted to buy my mother the same cosmetics you use as a birthday present.”
“……”
“……”
Silence fell for a moment.
Then Deacon Kwon suddenly burst into laughter.
“Oh-ho-ho-ho! My goodness! You won't ever go hungry wherever you go! How can you speak so sweetly?”
“Me? What did I say?”
“Ho-ho-ho! No, no! Sunbok, you've raised your son very well!”
“T-Thank you.”
My mother smiled awkwardly at Deacon Kwon's praise. As she watched the woman turn away, she let out a long sigh before speaking to me.
“……Were you helping your mother just now?”
“Who knows?”
I pretended not to know anything. My mother let out a small laugh and walked ahead.
The vast jungle we had been thrown into was American society itself, and this small Korean community was by no means an easy place to survive, either. From Mr. Park, the butcher, to the Korean Americans who were nosy and enjoyed receiving recognition, everyone treated my mother and me as helpless people and subtly looked down on us.
'The problem was that we had no choice but to play along with them.'
Still, I couldn't say they were entirely bad people. Whenever they needed something, Korean Americans would visit our store and buy things out of a sense of personal connection. Thanks to that, I had been able to enter university safely.
As we made our rounds greeting people and chatted with them, I took advantage of being a sixteen-year-old boy and stopped the Korean Americans whenever they tried to cross the line with my mother. Everyone laughed at my innocent-looking compliments and stepped back, allowing my mother and me to attend the service and return home without any major trouble.
My mother said this to me.
“You made me so proud today, Shin.”
“Oh, it was nothing.”
“You've always been like that, but especially today. Is there anything you want to eat for dinner?”
“Anything you cook, Mother.”
“Really? Then I suppose I'll have to show off my cooking skills today.”
My mother entered the kitchen humming happily. Watching her retreating figure, I untied my bow tie and climbed the stairs. Then I entered my room and let out a long breath.
'I need to get started soon.'
I didn't want to sit back and watch this narrow-mindedness invade my daily life any longer.
A week had passed since I returned to 1980. I racked my memory and read every novel I could get my hands on. Then I thought about what kind of novel I should write in this era. After all, a debut work was extremely important to a writer.
I shut myself away in my room and pondered over it for a long time. Eventually, I arrived at an answer.
'A horror novel.'
The reason was simple.
Even if the genre fiction market was dressed up in the most favorable terms possible, it was ultimately a stage determined by popularity. No matter how well-written a piece was, it meant nothing if the public didn't read it. The most important thing was how well a writer could mix their own individuality into what the audience wanted and create a fresh flavor.
However, at least for my debut work, I wanted to reveal myself completely.
'Because I couldn't do that in my previous life after learning this rule.'
That was why, toward the end, I had almost stopped writing altogether.
Perhaps I wanted to resolve the regret I had carried.
But even so, I didn't think I could succeed by openly writing the kind of novel I personally wanted to write. No matter how well I wrote, would people really enjoy a story in which an Asian became a barbarian and cured a sexually transmitted disease afflicting a prostitute king? Of course not.
'That was the first reason I chose horror. An Asian protagonist wouldn't feel out of place.'
The second reason was related to the characteristics of the horror genre.
The emotion of fear originated from the unknown. And that gave rise to narrow-mindedness.
Americans of this era, accustomed to limited information because of the restrictions of the media, subconsciously tended to believe that an Asian man with a Fu Manchu mustache could use bizarre sorcery to deceive people. However, there was no denying that this became an extraordinary source of entertainment in genre fiction. After all, it was based on the reality perceived by the public.
That was why the subject of the 'Orient,' which many people viewed through the lens of narrow-mindedness, was bound to be a major element in the horror genre.
However, I had no intention of writing a novel that merely depicted narrow-minded Asians. I planned to cleverly twist the cliché through one particular idea.
'That's how it should be.'
My determination flared up.
I sat down, took out the paper and pen I had prepared in advance, and before seriously working out the plot of the story, I unfolded the newspaper lying beside me to confirm my objective once again.
During this era, genre novels were primarily serialized through magazines and newspapers.
Magazines such as Guns & Swords Magazine mostly held contests, while many others accepted submissions on an ongoing basis. Newspapers, especially well-known ones such as the Los Angeles Times, tended to carefully select and accept works from established writers.
However, the newspaper company I had chosen wasn't like that.
'Torrance New Media.'
A daily newspaper published around Torrance, one of California's cities.
The newspaper regularly recruited serialized works by placing advertisements in its pages. As a small newspaper company, it had no choice but to adopt this method. Writers with even a little recognition went to larger, more prestigious newspapers.
I read the ongoing submission advertisement printed in the newspaper once again.
==================================
Torrance New Media is accepting novels for serialization.
Eligibility: None.
Genres: Genre fiction, including horror, science fiction, and mystery.
Submission method: Submit a five-episode manuscript and a proposal to the newspaper office by mail.
Work specifications: Approximately 500 words per episode, with a complete story consisting of around 20 episodes.
Submission period: August 1, 1980, until the recruitment is complete.
Inquiries: Call the newspaper office and dial extension 3, the cultural section reporter Simon Carver.
==================================
'This is the only place.'
There were two reasons I chose this newspaper instead of considering a magazine or another newspaper, just as there had been two reasons I chose horror.
First, newspaper serialization demanded greater popularity than genre fiction magazines, so I thought this would be an appropriate place for my debut work.
The second reason was connected to the knowledge I possessed from the future.
'This newspaper has right-wing tendencies.'
In the future, California would develop such strong left-wing tendencies that it would be called a Democratic stronghold. But during this period, it was still considered a moderate state.
Even under those circumstances, most Californians primarily subscribed to the left-leaning Los Angeles Times. The newspaper was large, and its quality reflected its size.
However, because of the results of the presidential election that would take place toward the end of this year, Torrance New Media's readership would rise unusually as people reacted against the left-leaning Los Angeles Times.
I intended to plant a straw into this newspaper company in preparation for that time.