“Redirected“ Fire

Old John, a retired firefighter, habitually sat on the porch of his small cabin at the foot of the mountains in the evening, gazing at the distant peaks. Today, the sky was an unusually deep red; it wasn't the sunset glow, but a wildfire. Since that "redirected" fire, he had been watching like this every day, a nameless feeling always weighing on his heart.

That fire, in fact, was originally meant to engulf the entire valley, including those meticulously crafted mansions on the mountaintops, homes that shone with the glimmer of wealth like crowns on the peaks. Old John had thought that this time, those "upper-class" folks would finally taste the bitterness of a natural disaster. But things developed in a way that defied all expectations.

"John," his old friend, Tom, also a firefighter, excitedly came to tell him that day, "Guess what? They, those guys on the mountaintops, they actually ‘redirected’ the fire!"

"Redirected? How?" Old John couldn't believe it. How could human power possibly control a wildfire?

Tom recounted the "marvel" he'd heard with exuberant gestures. Those rich people had mobilized all their resources, hiring the most elite meteorologists and engineers, and there was even talk of mysterious technology from space. They calculated precisely and detonated with great accuracy, forcing the flames that were originally spreading downwards to veer in another direction, a direction away from their mansions, a direction towards a more barren and desolate area, a direction they had never set foot in.

At first, Old John thought Tom was joking, but when he saw that the fire was indeed being controlled as if by an invisible hand, bypassing the mountaintop mansions and instead engulfing the abandoned farms and dilapidated shantytowns on the other side of the valley, he realized it was all real.

"This isn't fair!" Old John was indignant. He had rushed into fires countless times to save people trapped in the flames, and now, these "upper-class" folks could manipulate natural disasters like they were playing with a sandbox?

"Fair?" Tom shook his head with a wry smile, "John, you've lived too long; haven't you seen through this world yet? Money can make the devil push the millstone, let alone 'redirect' a fire.”

In the days that followed, the fire was gradually extinguished. The ashes and scorched earth on the other side of the valley were still shocking to look at, but the mansions on the mountaintops were unscathed, as if nothing had happened. Old John still sat on the porch every evening, looking at the distant mountains. He noticed that those mountaintop mansions, bathed in the sunset, looked even more magnificent, as if mocking everything in the valley.

Old John always felt that those rich people were still on the mountaintops, looking at them through the lingering smoke, looking at those people consumed by the “redirected” flames. They must be celebrating, celebrating their victory over nature once again, even over fate.

This day, Old John sat on the porch as usual, the sunset red and dazzling. Suddenly, he noticed something reflecting light on the mountaintop. Upon closer inspection, it was countless mirrors. Those rich people had actually built a massive reflective device on the mountaintop.

Old John began to feel a sense of unease. He picked up his telescope and carefully observed the mirrors. He noticed that the mirrors were no longer randomly placed, but were adjusting their angles in a regular pattern. He suddenly realized that they weren’t showing off their wealth; they were…

They were “redirecting” again!

Old John suddenly understood that the wildfire was just the beginning. They were not satisfied with merely avoiding disaster; they wanted to control disasters as if they were controlling puppets. They were using mirrors to reflect and focus sunlight, attempting to ignite a new fire again, and this time, it seemed they were aiming at the other side of the valley, at his house and other ordinary people’s homes!

Old John suddenly stood up, he wanted to shout, but found himself voiceless. A great sense of powerlessness washed over him; he could only watch, watch as the reflection from the mountaintops grew stronger, as if doomsday was coming. He suddenly remembered what Tom had said: Money can make the devil push the millstone. He desperately thought, if this fire is "redirected" again, perhaps there won’t be a next time.

At this moment, the sky suddenly darkened. He looked up and saw that a huge cloud had blocked the sun. The mirrors on the mountaintop were rendered useless, and the fire that was about to be "redirected" disappeared as well. Old John slumped back into his chair, letting out a long breath. Then, he saw that the mirrors in the mountaintop mansion area had shattered, reflecting broken sunlight, like a pile of scrap metal.

Suddenly, his phone rang. It was a text message from Tom: Heard the rich folks on the mountaintop were recently researching a new tech called "solar concentration," and the experiment failed, and they burned their own place. Funny, right? Old John looked at the message, bursting into laughter. He suddenly felt that this world wasn’t so bad after all.