Chapter 36: The Publication of "Whale Song"

Enny was just about to ask Asimov what had happened.

Asimov puffed out his slightly pudgy stomach, his face flushed with indignation. "Those people condemn the Führer’s 'master race' theory, yet they practice racism right here at home. It is pure, unadulterated hypocrisy! Will this world ever be any better? I wish the whole world were just robots!"

Asimov ranted on, and Enny soon pieced together what had occurred. It turned out he had gone to a bookstore to buy *The Atlantic Monthly*, only to overhear someone slamming *A Bronx Tale*. Unable to hold his tongue, he had gotten into a heated argument and worked himself into a state of fury. Seeing Asimov drop the novel he was about to finish just to go buy a magazine to "boost the numbers" for him—and then get into a fight over it—Enny felt a warmth in his heart. He patted Asimov on the shoulder and comforted him: "There's no need to get so worked up over such trivial nonsense. At the end of the day, as long as we get our royalty checks, that’s all that matters!"

Hearing this, Asimov found it reasonable and calmed down. "You really are remarkably carefree. Are you a robot, by any chance?"

Enny grinned and teased back, "I wish I were a writing machine. Writing is truly exhausting."

This remark lightened the mood, coaxing a smile from Asimov. Yet, once the smile faded, there was no sympathy for Enny in his eyes, only a look of exasperated disappointment. "With your level of effort, you can hardly call it exhausting. When so many people can't find work during the Great Depression, you have the talent to sit in a room and type for money, shielded from the wind and sun—you should cherish that! You started *Whale Song* last month and you still haven't finished it. Don't you think you should reflect on that? I’ve written 15,000 words of *Runaround* in just three days."

Asimov didn't stop there, delivering a final blow: "The saddest thing in life is to waste one's own talent!"

Enny: "..."

Well, that was that. Getting attacked with my own words—the boomerang had certainly come back around. Still, despite the lecture, Enny felt no guilt; he wasn't a workaholic like Asimov.

Enny suddenly pulled back the curtains, letting the sunlight stream in. Seeing this, Asimov thought he was turning over a new leaf, ready to be reborn in the light and buckle down to write.

However, he immediately heard Enny say, "I intend to bake myself to death. Why are you still standing there?"

Asimov: "..."

The two bickered for a while. Enny also felt that taking a month to write a short story was a bit hard to justify, especially since he felt a bit guilty toward John Campbell—Campbell had been hounding him for the manuscript, but Enny had mostly spent his time at the gym.

He took a moment to pull himself together and sat down at his typewriter. "Half an hour. I can definitely finish *Whale Song* in half an hour."

Seeing Enny finally committing to some hard work, Asimov nodded with satisfaction and sat down at his own typewriter. "I’m just about to wrap up *Runaround* as well. Why don't we see who can finish faster?"

"..."

Enny pretended not to hear him, grabbed his typewriter, and retreated into the inner room.

As if! Who would want to race a workaholic?

Usually, novels are difficult to write at the beginning when setting up the background and balancing the flow of information. But by the final stage, the threads laid out earlier, character motivations, and hidden conflicts have all been refined; the author simply needs to "reap" the harvest according to logic.

Thus, after typing the final word of *Whale Song*, Enny looked at the time and realized he had finished much faster than expected. It took only fifteen minutes—he had entered a flow state, working without distraction and completing the story in one go.

"It seems that getting more exercise is good for writing, after all."

Enny stretched, thinking to himself that the literary scene of the 1940s was quite nice. Unlike future generations, where ordinary people mostly had to write web novels to make a living, trapped by rules like "4,000 words daily," where one couldn't even think about exercise, and avoiding insomnia was a luxury.

Almost at the same moment, Asimov's voice drifted in: "Are you done? Why haven't I heard you typing anymore?"

Enny: "..."

Hilarious. He’s even supervising.

Enny gave a sign of acknowledgment, pulled the manuscript from the carriage, and clipped it together with a paperclip. He walked out of the room and handed the fresh stack of pages to Asimov. "Take a look and see how it is. Is there anything that needs changing?"

Because Asimov was a writing machine, Enny had already read the general content of *Runaround* the day before. However, Enny was the type to fish for three days and dry his nets for two, which had caused Asimov to forget some of the previous plot points.

Upon receiving the manuscript, Asimov couldn't wait to read *Whale Song* as if it were a completely new story.

The original plot of this novel wasn't complex:

"A drug lord named 'Werner' produced twenty-five tons of cargo but found it impossible to transport due to the neutron detectors invented by the Americans. To smuggle the goods into the United States for sale, Werner had his younger son, who was studying in America, look for someone who could help. The son brought back a marine biologist, Dr. 'David Hopkins.'

Hopkins claimed he could transport the goods using whales. He implanted biological electrodes into a whale's brain and installed a computer to receive external signals, translating them into the whale's brainwave patterns, allowing him to control all of the whale's movements via a device similar to a television remote.

After the two struck a deal, the forty-eight-meter blue whale 'Poseidon' set off for the United States, carrying a transparent cabin containing Werner, Hopkins, and the cargo in its mouth. They successfully navigated the coastline and completed the deal.

However, on the return trip, they were unexpectedly attacked by a whaling ship. Neither of them had anticipated that international treaties could not restrain lawless whalers. Thus, they met their end in the Atlantic in a deeply ironic fashion."

Of course, that was the original version of *Whale Song*. To fit the era, Enny had retained only the core science fiction technology and metaphorical themes, while almost entirely revising the rest of the plot.

[General Werner stood at the bow of the ship, contemplating the calm surface of the Atlantic. He rarely contemplated; he usually knew what to do without thinking, and did it without hesitation. Now, it seemed, things had truly become difficult...]

The background Enny set was the early stage of the Battle of the Atlantic, where Britain and Germany were engaged in fierce, non-stop naval warfare.

Initially, the United States had refused to aid Britain due to its isolationist policy. But as Germany gained the upper hand in the Atlantic, the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives finally passed the *Lend-Lease Act*. Once signed by the President, it officially allowed Britain to exchange its military bases and various minerals for American support.

Once the act took effect, the U.S. began using warships to transport munitions to Britain. However, due to the threat of German U-boats, the losses were staggering—seventy-six ships were lost in a single month, most of them sunk in submarine warfare.

Admiral Werner, in charge of the munitions transport, was deeply troubled. He asked the President to find someone who could help. After a search, the President brought in the marine biologist, Dr. 'David Hopkins.'

A secret mission to transport military supplies across the Atlantic using whales was about to begin...