Shanghai is under attack! As I write, I am cowering under a table, seeking protection from the endless explosions that are happening all over this city. It is a senseless, violent attack with brutal bursts everywhere I look. Who is behind all this destruction?? A large eruption just happened across the street--now another one--probably taking out floors 30 and above of another apartment building. I can only imagine the horror the survivors face.
By the time you get this post, I and much of this city may be no more. A vicious aerial assault is underway, with large shells exploding above, next to, and directly on the many skyscrapers of this town. Whoever is attacking us, they have an enormous arsenal. And what a diversity of weapons. Some of the eruptions are blue, green, red, orange, and multiple colors. Are these chemical weapons, releasing deadly gas? I look outside again. Thick clouds of smoke are arising in the regions where the worse eruptions are occurring. Nerve gas? Or just the smoke of deadly burning?
Boom–a fiery eruption just occurred next to our building. Now another. My time may be up. I can feel the building shaking under the assault. I’m on floor 18. It may be that floors 25 and above are no longer. Strangely, though, I hear no screaming. Only the endless explosions. What nation could have this much firepower, this much wealth to squander in invading another nation? Logic leaves only one choice: this must be an invasion of the World’s Policeman, the United States. But why now? And why Shanghai? Oh, yes. I get it. It’s an election year.... Well, that’s politics, and now I’m seeing it up close. So ugly, except these explosions are, in spite of their horror, surprisingly beautiful in a warped sort of way. The flashes of color and the bright sparkles made by all that flaming shrapnel are almost artistic. Or is the shock of war making me crazy now?

Now I hear gunfire, the sound of hundreds of guns discharging wantonly–pop!pop! pop! boom! Boom! pop-pop-pop, but so fierce it sounds almost like a million giant firecrackers going off. The ground fire is probably cutting down thousands of citizens trying to escape. Ground troops must be taking the city as the aerial assault continues in many other sectors. Suddenly I heard the roar of nearby gunfire coming from the street immediately below me, and now from behind our building also. Survivors fleeing our complex have no chance. This is the end. But I never guessed that America's penchant for foreign war would be my doom.
Strangely, our Internet service is up. Miraculously, I may at least be able to document the final moments of my life. Kendra, I love you. Sorry about the missing chocolate–yes, it was me, not the maid. And Mom, I love you , too. Sorry about the missing chocolate when we visited. I guess I was involved in its disappearance, sort of. Sorry.
I call out to my wife who was in the next room when the bombing started. I believe she is seeking protection under the bed. I hear her voice–-she’s still alive!-- but the noise of endless explosions drowns our her words. Should I risk rushing over to be at her side? Yes, it is my most sacred and urgent duty, but first I’ve got to finish this post. Just a few more words and then some photos, and maybe a quick Tweet or two....

My wife walks into the room. She dares to stand in full view of the window, which somehow hasn’t been shattered yet by all the blasting. She has her coat on and looks calm, even happy. I think the shock of war has made her delusional. "Jeff, come on, let’s go out and see more of the fireworks for the Lantern Festival. Isn’t it beautiful?"



--Written Feb. 9 during the fierce violence of the Lantern Festival, part of the celebrations associated with the lunar New Year, coming 15 days after. Somehow we and the city of Shanghai survived.
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