"An Ordinary Day" (평범한 날에) is a science fiction short story (과학환상소설) by Ŏm Ho Sam that was published in Chosŏn Munhak in Oct 2009.
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| "Commissions for Utopia," North Korean architectural drawings displayed at the Venice Architecture Biennale in 2014 (Src: Wired) |
The story says a lot about North Koreans' ideal conception of technological society and the author's own understanding of technological innovations, whether they be common (e-mail, password security), cutting-edge (stem cell medicine, quantum computing, smartcars, robotics, dietary optimization), or theoretical (cryogenics).
The Plot
Renowned North Korean economist Dr. Nam Man Woo is attending an economics conference in Switzerland when he suffers a near-fatal accident in the Swiss Alps. He is flown back to Pyongyang on life support and saved by North Korea's finest doctors, but his liver was destroyed, so they decide to cryogenically freeze* him until they can regrow it [*Note: the text uses the term "동면시키다", most literal translation is "put into hybernation" but perhaps this is a N Korean euphemism for a medically-induced coma].
Six years later, his liver has been regrown using stem cells [만능세포기술], and his other injuries are all healed. The only problem is, he will awaken to a dramatically changed world - ironically the result of an economic structure that he himself theorized about. In the past six years, North Korea has implemented the Koryo System, in which currency is abolished and instead super-computers regulate the distribution of all goods and services according to "how much each individual's intelligence contributes to society" (화페가 아니라 매 인간의 지능이 사회에 기여하는 정도). This incentive structure motivates citizens to maximize both the social contribution of their labor, and their own intelligence level. All citizens attend biannual intensive education sessions to keep up with the constant technological innovations, so anyone who missed six years would be hopelessly far behind.His recovery is overseen by Director Moon Sŭng Joo, the head of the International Center for Life Preservation, and Dr. Moon Jŏng Soon, an engineer/historian who is also Director Moon's daughter. They decide that the best treatment plan to minimize the psychological stress of his re-adjustment will be to give him an automated tour of the new improved Pyongyang, the instant he wakes up, without any explanation.
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So when Nam wakes up in a hospital bed, his sole companion is a robot who helps him get up and dress. Although the robot speaks Korean, Nam assumes he's still in Switzerland, until he steps out on the balcony and recognizes the green flowering hills of Moranbong Park. A driverless car shows up and whisks him off down a ramp and into the city. The car cruises past various futuristic Pyongyang sights before dropping him off at the "Four Seasons Restaurant."
He immediately turns to leave, thinking he has no money to pay for a meal; but then a receptionist-robot stops him, saying “Dr. Nam, please proceed down the corridor to your left. Your physician, Director Moon Sŭng Joo, has ordered a special service for you.” He proceeds down the hall, eager to meet this Director Moon, but the private dining room is empty.
A screen on the table lights up, showing a menu and inviting him to order whatever he wants. But as soon as he makes his selection, the menu disappears and a recommended diet advisory appears: “Based on your health condition, we recommend you try the pine nut porridge and carp stew.” In fact, a health sensor (신체검사기) had scanned his physical condition in the hallway; but Nam, not knowing this, assumes that such instructions were passed on by his physician.
He hopes someone will show up soon so he can express his gratitude; but instead of human servers, an automated cart wheels itself in and begins placing dishes on the table. Geez, it’s hard to find a human being around here, he thinks.
After his meal, the Moons finally show up and introduce themselves, explaining to Nam about his coma and everything that has happened in the past six years. He feels awed and ashamed of his sudden intellectual deficit, but they vow together to catch him up in record time using sleep hypnosis therapy. The story concludes with Nam reuniting with his wife and setting off on a superconductor bullet train [초전도자기부상식렬차] for an all-expenses-paid vacation at Majŏn Beach.
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| Src: "North Korea using robots to teach children English and 'enhance intelligence'," Sky News, 3 Nov 2021 |
Ŏm's utopian vision of the future is a world in which human interaction is minimal. All services are provided by robots; specifically, 1950s robots with lots of lights flashing meaninglessly on their consoles and hidden probes that scan you without your knowledge or consent. Nam is driven from the hospital to the restaurant, greeted, seated, and served without ever encountering a human being. He is confused and hurt by this, thinking people must be avoiding him, but eventually it is explained that "In the new intelligence era, humans only contribute mental labor, and all secondary services are done by robots."
In this future, North Korean engineers have developed a kind of super-advanced "light-based quantum computer" (빛량자콤퓨터), and these are used for all manner of tasks, from scanning a coma patient's dreams (not cool!) to sending e-mails (adorably rendered in North Korean as 전자우편). These computers are protected by DNA-coded security software which apparently can detect gender but not a lot else, as hinted by the following excerpt, in which Director Moon walks in on his daughter using his office computer:
“Hmm, doesn’t look like the sort of thing historians usually look at. Impressive that you cracked the password."
Pleased by this uncommon praise from her father, Jŏng-soon quickly corrected his misapprehension. “There’s nothing impressive about it. The security program’s genetic scan [유전자조사] recognized that my gender was different, so it didn’t let me access any data. But then I told it I was your daughter, and it kindly gave me a password.”
Director Moon chuckled. “'The ax you trust stabs you in the foot' (믿는 도끼에 발등을 찍힌다), indeed. I'm getting forgetful, so I arranged a backup where the computer can give me a new password, and it ends up letting you in? This is a serious problem.”
“You’re the serious problem, Dad. Living in this age of information sharing, and you still use antiquated things like password management programs.”
“I’m older than you, that’s true; but there are certain materials and personal data that should not be shared. For instance, I know of a certain special relationship between you and a certain Kim Ho Yŏng of the Department of Education faculty, though I haven’t let on.”
In my institution, we have to take an online seminar on the do's and don'ts of cyber-security every year, and this exchange reminded me of one of the "don't" videos.
Perhaps most intriguing is the daughter's accusation that her father is behind-the-times for continuing to use something as "antiquated" as password protection in the "age of information sharing" [정보공유의 시대에 살면서도 아직도 구태의연하게 암호관리프로그람을 사용하고]. Bear in mind that this conversation is taking place at the nation's premier biological research center, concerning a computer that apparently contains not only groundbreaking cryogenic research but also the director's complete genome. Yet the interaction is entirely light-hearted, like a scene out of Father Knows Best, and there are no real consequences or follow-ups.
A Real Cashless Society
The underlying premise behind Pyongyang's rapid technological leap is that North Korea has successfully implemented the “Koryo System,” a new economic model originally theorized by Dr. Nam, in which money is abolished and goods and services are dispensed according to each individual’s “intellectual contribution to society.” This system is explained in the story by way of Dr. Nam’s coma dreams, which Dr. Moon eavesdrops on via her father’s quantum computer (for the purpose of, er, research):
Exiting the conference hall, Nam was pelted with questions from reporters: “Is it really possible to establish a new concept of currency and a new global economic structure?” “You predicted a new intelligent society, but can you give more concrete details?”
Nam Man-woo smiled as he sat down to take questions in the briefing hall.
“Asking for your forbearance, I will briefly explain.
“First, let me tell you my views on currency and the establishment of a new global economic system. As you all know, the man-made currency system in use today has caused the fate of humans to be controlled by extreme individualists. However, in the information era, procurement, research, production, and sales are realized through the Internet, accelerating the establishment of a new global economic system.
“Finally, I will talk about the representation of an intelligent society. In the information age, the share of intelligent labor is increasing. But on the other hand, excessive information has led to a problem of unnecessary research and production. The intelligent society of the future will be one in which a highly refined and planned society overcomes these challenges, a society in which - as I just explained - material rewards and production are carried out according to the degree of contribution of each human being to society. Thank you, that is all.”
(Loud applause from the reporters.)
This Koryo system seems to be a proprietary invention of this particular author; he refers to it in at least one other story, as the means by which future North Korea finally conquers the wicked forces of global capitalism and re-emerges atop a money-free new world order. As dream-Nam explains, the expansion of the “internet” has in theory enabled the global economy to be reordered according to individual intellectual contributions – and not only real contributions, but potential future contributions, calculated by super-advanced but apparently incorruptible computers.
In this system, freed from the need to accumulate monetary savings, people are motivated instead to educate themselves, build their intellects, and maximize their social contribution through inventions and other “intellectual labor.” The result is a hyper-intelligent society with no room for laggards; thus the Drs. Moon spend much of their time worrying about how even a former genius like Dr. Nam can catch up after six years asleep.
You may laugh, but this is virtually identical to an explanation Captain Jean-Luc Picard gives to a 21st century human about the 24th century world economy in the film First Contact. I look forward to the intellectual property rights lawsuit between these two creators who don't believe in monetary compensation for mental labor.
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| First Contact, Paramount Pictures, 1996 Src: Imgur |
In the story, it is vaguely hinted that evil global capitalists engineered Dr. Nam’s “accident” because they felt threatened by his theory. This conflict is never concretely fleshed out or resolved in this story, however. It is more fully explored in another story of Ŏm’s, 존엄, which I hope to post here in the future.
Links: SciFi in North Korea
For a deeper dive into the early days of North Korean science fiction, check out Dafna Zur's article "Let's Go to the Moon: Science Fiction in the North Korean Children's Magazine Adong Munhak, 1956–1965"
For Korean readers, there is a 2018 book by Seo Dong-soo of Sangji University, 북한 과학환상문학과 유토피아 , which analyzes over 100 North Korean works of science fiction published from the 1950s to the present.
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| North Korean robot soccer exhibit, Oct 2019 src: arirangmeari.com |
The images of futuristic Pyongyang above were taken from a Wired article on a 2014 Italian art exhibition that showcased futuristic designs by a North Korean architect. The entire article is worth a read.
