It took a second for the words to sink in.
“Aiyoh!” I said, and started reversing.
“What?” Joyce asked. “I can’t see from here.”
“It’s an ethnic minority region. It says not to enter without proper permissions. I think it’s a pretty sensitive situation. My friends from Xinjiang and Guangxi have told some very unpleasant stories.”
“Not safe for aliens like you?” Joyce asked.
“It’s you two who are in more danger here. There’s often lots of animosity towards Han people in these areas. I’d be right at home, being just another alien, but you two…”
“We’re as alien as you, according to the hotels in Delingha,” Leng said.
“Yeah, but you have to show your passport to prove it. My alien status is written all over my skin.”
“Let’s go back,” Leng said.
“I’m trying. It’s not going to be easy to turn around here,” I said.
I had just enough space behind me to reverse and head back along the path we had come in on. When we reached the roadblock this time, it felt almost like a homecoming.
“So we stay here until it gets light?”
“Hey, I know,” I said. “We don’t have to get onto the highway going the other direction. We can go back on this side, just the way we came in.”
“A bit dangerous leh, driving against traffic.”
“But that’s just it. There is no other traffic. The only cars we saw all night were on the other side. They must have come from Siting.”
“True,” Leng said. “We could try it.”
I was already reversing and heading back up the exit ramp.
“Be careful,” Joyce said from behind. I could tell she was nervous, but I felt this was our only real option.
As we got onto the highway, driving on the wrong side of the road, I realised how nervous I was too. My neck and back felt tight as I hunched over the wheel. I kept to the shoulder, hardly daring to venture into a proper lane, despite my earlier bravado.
“Hey, what’s that?” I asked Leng, pointing out her side of the windscreen.
“Where?” She leaned forward, peering into the darkness.
“Is it a gap in the divider?” I slowed down, trying to aim the lights at what I thought I had seen.
“Yes! It must be for emergencies. Remember we saw some places like that this morning?”
I pulled across the highway and slowly made my way through the gap. It seemed to be an access road for work vehicles.
We all breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled onto the correct side of the highway. I leaned back in my seat for the first time since we had entered the highway a few kilometres back.
“You feel better, right?” Joyce said.
“Yeah,” I readily admitted.
“Me too,” Leng said. “Even though we are in such a ghost town like this, it feels safer somehow.”
“I know. I mean, we haven’t seen another car on that side of the road all night, but…”
Before I could finish my thought, we saw headlights ahead of us, moving closer. They were on the opposite side of the highway, moving fast.
“I’m glad we found that turn-off,” Leng said quietly.
“Me too.”
More lights appeared. As we drew near, we noticed it was a convoy of at least eight lorries.
“Where did they come from?” I asked. “There wasn’t another exit or entrance for the whole 143-kilometre stretch.”
“Aliens,” Joyce said.
We all laughed, just a little too loudly.
MINDEF’s Director of Robotic Surveillance, Colonel Helena Sim Chiuleng, was granted a much needed night off. More accurately, she was commanded to leave the Robotic Surveillance Centre for no less than fourteen hours, beginning no later than 1800 sharp on Thursday, 21 March 2026. “Orders direct from the prime minister’s office,” General Kannan had said, before she could object.
“Yes, sir,” she said smartly, then left his office and returned to work.
That had been two weeks ago. Now it was Thursday, 21 March 2026, 17:52. The probation period for the Gen 3 Robotics Surveillance System had officially ended at 12:00 that day. There had been only minor glitches throughout the six-month probation period, and in the last three months, not a single problem had surfaced. Still, Colonel Sim was nervous about leaving the RSC. It would be the first time she had left the base since October 2025. She hadn’t minded it at all—in fact, she had hardly noticed. She had been completely absorbed in her work, and there had not been much waiting for her outside the base, not since Damon had gone to Australia.
“You better get out of here soon, Colonel. The general is sure to check in and see that you obey orders,” Tan called from across the room.
“Yeah, go on,” Liu echoed. “You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got it all under control.”
“You think I’d trust you with Gen 3?” Colonel Sim said, snorting. “Gen?”
“Yes, Colonel?” the computer’s voice replied, filling the room.
“I’ve got to be out of the office for the next fourteen hours. I want you to keep an eye on everything, okay? You’re the only one I can trust around here.”
“Yes, Colonel,” Gen replied.
“And you two behave yourselves. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Yes, Colonel,” Tan and Liu said, as she closed the door behind her.
Keep an eye on everything.
At the Changi Airport station, a man in grey trousers and black shirt slips his mobile phone into a shirt pocket after disengaging his call.
At the Singapore Expo station, a child lets go of her mother’s hand, retrieving the slipper that she lost trying to keep up with her parent’s pace.
At the Tanah Merah station, an elderly woman carries three plastic bags from NTUC Fair Price through the ticket gantry, then shuffles slowly towards the escalator to her left.
At the Simei station, a couple stands beside the ticket gantry, embracing before they part, then the woman enters through the ticket counter and the man leaves the station.
At the Tampines station, a young boy in blue shorts, white singlet and white canvas shoes rides a scooter from one entrance to another, skirting around other passengers.
At the Pasir Ris station, a tall man in khaki trousers and a blue shirt drops his fare card, retrieving it before he rushes through the gantry and towards the escalators.
“You look great,” Damon said the moment she walked out the door. “It’s been too long.”
She allowed him to kiss her cheek, as Australians seemed to have the habit of doing, but chose not to return the gesture. She was not sure where she wanted this evening to go, after all these months, and she knew the last thing she needed was to send false signals.
“It has been a long time.”
“We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” he said. “Lucky you could get a bit of time off before I have to go back to Australia.”
She did not reply.
Damon remained unruffled and affable as ever. When she failed to answer, he picked up the thread as if nothing was amiss. They chatted idly as he hailed a cab. When they settled in and headed towards the BKE, he said, “It should be an interesting performance. Dr Alquist spent years on this.”
“I’m still not convinced ‘performance’ is the right word. It sounds more like a technology exhibition or demo,” Helena said.
“You might be surprised.”
At the Bedok station, six boys in school uniform move in a pack through the crowd, slowing pedestrian traffic as the one in front turns back to speak to those behind him.
At the Kembangan station, a young woman in a black skirt and red blouse, carrying a blue bag and black laptop case, keeps her eyes on the blinking “1 minute” warning over the ticket gantry as she enters the station at a run.
At the Eunos station, a young, dark-skinned woman pushes a wheelchair-bound elderly man towards the lift to the platform.
At the Aljuni
ed station, a woman with an infant in her arms walks towards a man exiting the ticket gantry and he takes the child from her.
At the Kallang station, a girl in her late teens, wearing a short skirt and high heels, rushes out of the station towards a waiting car.
At the Lavender station, a man in business attire and carrying a briefcase stops at the newspaper kiosk and purchases a paper.
She looked at him for half a second before responding. “You do realise I work with one of the most sophisticated bits of AI technology in the world, don’t you? I’m not easily surprised.”
He rolled his eyes. “Work with it? You live for it. If I remember correctly, the launch of that machine was the whole reason you didn’t come to Australia with me a year ago.”
“Not the machine,” she said. “My career.”
“But would you have made the same decision if not for Gen?”
“Yes, I would have,” she said. “I signed on for a reason. I’m military first, computer geek second. Have you still not realised that?”
He fell silent at that.
“Look, Damon,” she said, more softly now, “I know it’s hard for you to understand how things are here. You’ve always taken NS as a bit of a joke, like it’s not real military duty. I won’t even try to stack Singapore’s armed forces up against Australia’s.”
“Too scared you’ll suffer by comparison?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
She laughed. “No. Just that the two systems are different. As different as the two countries are. I’m okay with it, because I know that what I do is no joke.”
At the City Hall station, a turbaned man reads a message on his tablet, then turns back and begins pushing against traffic, exiting the station.
At the Raffles Place station, a man counts a small stack of cash as he rides the descending escalator to the platform.
At the Outram Park station, two women in nurse’s uniforms walk arm in arm across the platform, narrowly missing a collision with a youth who rushes out of the train as soon as the doors open.
At the Tiong Bahru station, a girl in school uniform waits in the area behind the ticket gantries for an older girl, who passes a paper bag of books over the rail when they meet. The younger girl returns to the escalators leading to the platform, bag in hand, while the older girl goes in the opposite direction, towards the escalators leading to the shopping centre.
At Redhill station, a group of students carrying backpacks, sleeping bags and tents walks towards the station exit.
“I don’t think your job’s a joke,” he said, reaching for her hand. When she did not pull away, he added, “It’s never easy to set up a surveillance system as intricate and expansive as what you’ve got here. And no one can deny that Singapore has managed to remain one of the safest places anywhere, even when the rest of the region has struggled. So, you’ve got one on us there for sure.”
“And that’s just the military side. Our robotics and AI work is unrivalled too.”
“You might not be talking so big after the show. Dr Alquist has really outdone himself.”
“Please. What could possibly top a comprehensive system that watches every inch of our main public transportation network round the clock, and has an automised bomb squad at every single station, ready to take out any threat within minutes, without risking the life of a single human staff member?”
At the Queenstown station, a woman rushes down the stairs, clasping two children by the hand as she hurries towards the exit.
At the Commonwealth station, the attendant stops a man carrying a foldable bicycle, pointing to her watch. Without answering, the man turns and walks back in the direction from which he came.
At the Dover station, a man in dark glasses and carrying a cane runs his hand over the Braille text marking the lift call button.
At the Clementi station, a man looking at the screen of his phone collides with a woman carrying plastic grocery bags, causing her to drop several pieces of fruit.
At the Jurong East station, a girl in school uniform sucks on a straw, then drops her McDonald’s cup into a rubbish bin before entering the station.
“Impressive, I’ll grant you that,” Damon said. “But as extensive as it is, it’s still just routine stuff, on the level of each individual part. Alquist does truly groundbreaking work in AI technology. Wait till you see these robotic thespians at their craft. Their emotive centres are so advanced you won’t be able to tell them from a human.”
“Dogs have extremely advanced emotive centres,” she replied, “but I’ve never mistaken one for a human.”
“Only because you’ve never kept one. Lots of people treat their dogs like their own children.”
“Is that the same as mistaking them for human?”
“When you finally come over to Australia, I’ll introduce you to my Auntie Nora and you’ll see what I mean.”
She laughed. “Maybe I’ll visit one day.”
“Good. You really should. You can meet Dr Alquist too. You’ll love the university there. They’ve got a great AI research department. But I’m sure you’ve already seen all there is to see in the field, right?”
At the Chinese Garden station, several workers alight from a white lorry and enter the station.
At the Lakeside station, a couple walks towards the bank of fare card top-up machines, each holding one hand of a boy who walks between them.
At the Boon Lay station, a girl in secondary school uniform reads the screen of her mobile phone as she weaves through the crowd towards the escalator.
At the Pioneer station, two dark-skinned men in sarongs enter, holding hands. They stop at the station control booth and speak to the attendant.
At the Joo Koon station, a tissue pack falls from a woman’s bag when she takes out her fare card. She does not stop to pick it up.
“You know, what really troubles me about the work Alquist does isn’t something that comes from my own experience with robotics and artificial intelligence. It’s from my time with the theatre.”
He leaned away from her and gave her a long look. “The theatre?”
She laughed. “And you think you know me so well.”
He shook his head. “Right, then. So, tell me about it.”
At the HarbourFront station, a man rushes through the gantry, pulling a large red suitcase behind him.
At the Chinatown station, a troupe of boys in lion dance costumes exits the ticket gantry.
At the Clarke Quay station, a family of five stands in one corner, the parents consulting a map while the three pale-skinned children chase each other in a game of catching.
At the Dhoby Ghaut station, a bespectacled man approaches a woman with long hair and speaks to her. She quickly moves towards the escalator at the opposite end of the station, looking back over her shoulder several times as she does.
At the Little India station, a woman in a green sari stands outside the station control booth, speaking on her mobile phone.
At the Farrer Park station, a cleaning woman sweeps debris from the floor outside the ticket gantry.
“It was nothing major, really. I was in an acting group when I was in JC. What I remember most about it had nothing to do with my own acting—I was bad. But I’ll never forget seeing Ian McKellan play Lear at the Esplanade. Our group was invited to a workshop with him, and listening to him talk about acting was mesmerising.
“One of my classmates noticed he was wearing a wedding band and, since McKellan was rather famously unmarried, she asked him about it. He said, ‘When I decided to play Lear, I had to make some decisions. One of them involved answering the question of what happened to his queen, the mother of those three daughters, to make her absent from the whole ordeal that we see in the play. I decided she must have died, because I could not imagine her not resurfacing otherwise. If you’ll notice, I’ve got the wedding band on my right ring finger, not the left, just like a widower would. I’ve worn it for months, trying to experience as much as possible what it was like to have a constan
t reminder of a lost partner, so that I could let that shade all of my interactions while onstage. It has been an experience more profound than I had anticipated.’”
She looked at Damon for a moment, then added, “That’s a great actor. He empathises with the role, taking on that person’s mind even when not onstage, just so that he can really get into the person’s thinking and emotions, and ultimately become that person. But a robot? No matter how intelligent, it’s still an artificial intelligence. Can it live for months as a widower, become so immersed in that mindset that it can truly become the character onstage? Is it capable of that level of sympathy?”
She knew she had him now. No one could argue that even the most advanced AI was capable of that level of understanding or empathy with any human condition.
At the Boon Keng station, a boy in school uniform walks past the escalator and starts to ascend the stairs two at a time.
At the Potong Pasir station, a man with a clipboard approaches a woman who is exiting the station. She stops to speak with him.
At the Woodleigh station, a woman carrying a red plastic bag exits the station.
At the Serangoon station, three boys in shorts and T-shirts wait outside the ticket gantry, each looking at the screen of his own phone.
At the Kovan station, a young woman clasps the arm of a young man as they stand in front of the map displayed outside the ticket gantries.
Damon looked out the window, watching the traffic on the streets as they entered the CBD and headed towards the Esplanade. “I wonder,” he finally said, eyes still fixed on the people and cars outside his window. “Do you think Auntie Nora’s dog can imagine itself a widow? Because that pup was depressed just as long as she was when Uncle Brad died, almost to the minute. The old boy’s vet called it sympathy pains.”
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