by Liu Cixin
“You’re saying that the universe was … winking at you?” Da Shi asked, as he slurped down strips of tripe like noodles.
“That’s a very appropriate metaphor.”
“Bullshit.”
“Your lack of fear is based on your ignorance.”
“More bullshit. Come, drink!”
Wang finished another shot. Now the world was spinning around him, and only the tripe-chomping Shi Qiang across from him remained stable. He said, “Da Shi, have you ever … considered certain ultimate philosophical questions? For example, where does Man come from? Where does Man go? Where does the universe come from? Where does the universe go? Et cetera.”
“Nope.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“You must see the stars. Aren’t you awed and curious?”
“I never look at the sky at night.”
“How is that possible? I thought you often worked the night shift?”
“Buddy, when I work at night, if I look up at the sky, the suspect is going to escape.”
“We really have nothing to say to each other. All right. Drink!”
“To be honest, even if I were to look at the stars in the sky, I wouldn’t be thinking about your philosophical questions. I have too much to worry about! I gotta pay the mortgage, save for the kid’s college, and handle the endless stream of cases.… I’m a simple man without a lot of complicated twists and turns. Look down my throat and you can see out my ass. Naturally, I don’t know how to make my bosses like me. Years after being discharged from the army, my career is going nowhere. If I weren’t pretty good at my job, I would have been kicked out a long time ago.… You think that’s not enough for me to worry about? You think I’ve got the energy to gaze at stars and philosophize?”
“You’re right. All right, drink up!”
“But, I did indeed invent an ultimate rule.”
“Tell me.”
“Anything sufficiently weird must be fishy.”
“What … what kind of crappy rule is that?”
“I’m saying that there’s always someone behind things that don’t seem to have an explanation.”
“If you had even basic knowledge of science, you’d know it’s impossible for any force to accomplish the things I experienced. Especially that last one. To manipulate things at the scale of the universe—not only can you not explain it with our current science, I couldn’t even imagine how to explain it outside of science. It’s more than supernatural. It’s super-I-don’t-know-what.…”
“I’m telling you, that’s bullshit. I’ve seen plenty of weird things.”
“Then tell me what I should do next.”
“Keep on drinking. And then sleep.”
“Fine.”
* * *
Wang Miao had no idea how he got back into his car. He tumbled into the backseat and fell into a dreamless slumber. He didn’t think that he was asleep for long, but when he opened his eyes, the sun was already near the horizon in the west.
He got out of the car. Even though the alcohol that morning had made him weak, he did feel better. He saw that he was at one corner of the Forbidden City. The setting sun shone on the ancient palace and turned into bright gold ripples in the moat. In his eyes, the world became once again classical and stable.
Wang sat until it got dark, enjoying the peace that had been missing from his life. The black Volkswagen Santana that he was now so familiar with pulled out of the traffic streaming through the street and braked to a stop right in front of him. Shi Qiang got out of the car.
“Slept well?” Da Shi growled.
“Yes. What next?”
“Who? You? Go have dinner. Then drink a little more. Then sleep again.”
“Then what?”
“Then? Don’t you have to go to work tomorrow?”
“But the countdown … there’s only 1,091 hours left.”
“Fuck the countdown. Your first priority right now is to make sure you can stand straight and not collapse into a heap. Then we can talk about other things.”
“Da Shi, can you tell me something about what’s really going on? I’m begging you.”
Da Shi stared at Wang a while. Then he laughed. “I’ve said the very same thing to General Chang several times. We’re in the same boat, you and I. I’ll be honest: I know fucking shit. My pay grade is too low, and they tell me nothing. Sometimes I think this is a nightmare.”
“But you must know more than I.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you what little I know.” Da Shi pointed to the shore of the moat around the Forbidden City. The two found a spot and sat down.
It was now night, and traffic flowed ceaselessly behind them like a river. They watched their shadows lengthening and shortening over the moat.
“In my line of work, it’s all about putting together many apparently unconnected things. When you piece them together the right way, you get the truth. For a while now, strange things have been happening.
“For example, there’s been an unprecedented wave of crimes against academia and science research institutions. Of course you know about the explosion at the Liangxiang accelerator construction site. There was also the murder of that Nobel laureate … the crimes were all unusual: not for money, not for revenge. No political background, just pure destruction.
“Other strange things didn’t involve crimes. For example, the Frontiers of Science and the suicides of those academics. Environmental activists have also become extra bold: protest mobs at construction sites to stop nuclear power plants and hydroelectric dams, experimental communities ‘returning to nature,’ and other apparently trivial matters.… Do you go to the movies?”
“No, not really.”
“Recent big-budget films all have rustic themes. The setting is always green mountains and clear water, with handsome men and pretty women of some indeterminate era living in harmony with nature. To use the words of the directors, they ‘represent the beautiful life before science spoiled nature.’ Take Peach Blossom Spring: it’s clearly the sort of film that no one wants to see. But they spent hundreds of millions to make it. There was also this science fiction contest with a top reward of five million for the person who imagined the most disgusting possible future. They spent another few hundred million to turn the winning stories into movies. And then you’ve got all these strange cults popping up everywhere, where every cult leader seems to have a lot of money.…”
“What does that last bit have to do with everything you mentioned before?”
“You have to connect all the dots. Of course I didn’t need to busy myself with such concerns before, but after I was transferred from the crime unit to the Battle Command Center, it became part of my job. Even General Chang is impressed by my talent for connecting the dots.”
“And your conclusion?”
“Everything that’s happening is coordinated by someone behind the scenes with one goal: to completely ruin scientific research.”
“Who?”
“I have no idea. But I can sense the plan, a very comprehensive, intricate plan: damage scientific research installations, kill scientists, drive scientists like you crazy and make you commit suicide—but the main goal is to misdirect your thoughts until you’re even more foolish than ordinary people.”
“Your last statement is really perceptive.”
“At the same time, they want to ruin science’s reputation in society. Of course some people have always engaged in anti-science activities, but now it’s coordinated.”
“I believe it.”
“Now you believe me. So many of you scientific elites couldn’t figure it out, and I, having gone only to vocational school, had the answer? Ha! After I explained my theory, the scholars and my bosses all ridiculed it.”
“If you had told me your theory back then, I’m sure I wouldn’t have laughed at you. Take those frauds who practice pseudoscience—do you know who they’re most afraid of?”
“Scientists, of course.”
&
nbsp; “No. Many of the best scientists can be fooled by pseudoscience and sometimes devote their lives to it. But pseudoscience is afraid of one particular type of people who are very hard to fool: stage magicians. In fact, many pseudoscientific hoaxes were exposed by stage magicians. Compared to the bookworms of the scientific world, your experience as a cop makes you far more likely to perceive such a large-scale conspiracy.”
“Well, there’re plenty of people smarter than me. People in positions of power are well aware of the plot. When they ridiculed me at first, it was only because I wasn’t explaining my theory to the right people. Later on, my old company commander—General Chang—had me transferred. But I’m still not doing anything other than running errands.… That’s it. Now you know as much as I do.”
“Another question: What does this have to do with the military?”
“I was baffled, too. I asked them, and they said that now that there’s a war, of course the military would be involved. I was like you, thinking that they were talking nonsense. But no, they weren’t joking. The army really is on high alert. There are twenty-some Battle Command Centers like ours around the globe. And above them there’s another level of command structure. But no one knows the details.”
“Who’s the enemy?”
“No idea. NATO officers are now stationed in the war room of the PLA General Staff Department, and a bunch of PLA officers are working out of the Pentagon. Who the fuck knows who we’re fighting?”
“This is all so bizarre. Are you sure it’s all true?”
“A bunch of my old buddies from the army are now generals, so I know a few things.”
“The media has no idea about any of this?”
“Ah, that’s another thing. All the countries are keeping a tight lid on this, and they’ve been successful so far. I can guarantee you that the enemy is incredibly powerful. Those in charge are terrified! I know General Chang very well. He’s the sort who’s afraid of nothing, not even the sky falling, but I can tell that he’s worried about something much worse right now. They’re all scared out of their wits, and they have no confidence that we’ll win.”
“If what you say is true, then we should all be frightened.”
“Everyone is afraid of something. The enemy must be, too. The more powerful they are, the more they have to lose to their fears.”
“What do you think the enemy is afraid of?”
“You! Scientists! The odd thing is that the less practical your research is, the more they’re afraid of you—like abstract theories, the kind of thing Yang Dong worked on. They are more frightened of such work than you are of the universe winking at you. That’s why they’re so ruthless. If killing you would solve the problem, you’d all be dead by now. But the most effective technique remains disrupting your thoughts. When a scientist dies, another will take his place. But if his thoughts are confused, then science is over.”
“You’re saying they’re afraid of fundamental science?”
“Yes, fundamental science.”
“But my research is very different in nature from Yang Dong’s. The nanomaterial I work on isn’t fundamental science. It’s just a very strong material. What’s the threat to them?”
“You’re a special case. Usually, they don’t bother those engaged in applied research. Maybe the material you’re developing really scares them.”
“Then what should I do?”
“Go to work and keep up your research. That’s the best way to strike back at them. Don’t worry about that shitty countdown. If you want to relax a bit after work, play that game. If you can beat it, that might help.”
“That game? Three Body? You think it’s connected to all this?”
“Definitely connected. I know that several specialists at the Battle Command Center are playing it, too. It’s no ordinary game. Someone like me, fearless out of ignorance, can’t play it. It has to be someone knowledgeable like you.”
“Anything else?”
“No. But if I find out more I’ll let you know. Keep your phone on, buddy. Keep your head screwed on straight, and if you get scared again, just remember my ultimate rule.”
Da Shi drove away before Wang had a chance to thank him.
11
Three Body: Mozi and Fiery Flames
Wang Miao returned home, stopping on the way to buy a V-suit. His wife told him that people from work had been trying to get ahold of him all day.
Wang turned on his phone, checked his messages, and returned a few calls. He promised he’d be at work tomorrow. At dinner, he followed Da Shi’s advice and drank some more.
But he didn’t feel sleepy. After his wife went to bed, he sat in front of the computer, put on his new V-suit, and logged into Three Body.
* * *
Desolate plain at dawn.
Wang stood in front of King Zhou’s pyramid. The snow that had once covered it was gone, and the blocks of stone were pockmarked by erosion. The ground was now a different color. In the distance were a few massive buildings that Wang guessed were dehydratories, but they were of a different design than the ones he had seen last time.
Everything told him that eons had passed.
By the faint dawn light, Wang looked for the entrance. When he found it, he saw that the opening had been sealed by blocks of stone. But next to it, there was now a staircase carved into the pyramid leading all the way to the apex. He looked up and saw that the top had been flattened into a platform. The pyramid, once Egyptian in style, now resembled an Aztec one.
Wang climbed up the stairs and reached the apex. The platform looked like an ancient astronomical observatory. In one corner was a telescope several meters high, and next to it were a few smaller telescopes. In another corner were a few strange instruments that reminded him of ancient Chinese armillary spheres, models of objects in the sky.
His attention was drawn to the large copper sphere in the center of the platform. Two meters in diameter, it was set on top of a complex machine. Propelled by countless gears, the sphere slowly rotated. Wang noticed that the direction and speed of its rotation constantly shifted. Below the machine was a large square cavity. By the faint torchlight within, Wang saw a few slavelike figures pushing a spoked, horizontal wheel, which provided the power to the machine above.
A man walked toward Wang. Like King Wen when Wang had first encountered him, the man had his back against the sliver of light on the horizon, and he appeared to Wang as a pair of bright eyes floating in the darkness. He was slender and tall, dressed in a flowing black robe, his hair carelessly knotted on top of his head with a few strands waving in the wind.
“Hello,” the man said. “I’m Mozi.”23
“Hello, I’m Hairen.”
“Ah, I know you!” Mozi grew excited. “You were a follower of King Wen back in Civilization Number 137.”
“I did follow him here. But I never believed his theories.”
“You’re right.” Mozi nodded at Wang solemnly. Then he moved closer. “During the three hundred and sixty-two thousand years you’ve been away, civilization has been reborn four more times. These civilizations struggled to develop through the irregular alternation of Chaotic Eras and Stable Eras. The shortest-lived one got only halfway through the Stone Age, but Civilization Number 139 broke a record and developed all the way to the Steam Age.”
“You’re saying that people from that civilization found the laws governing the sun’s motion?”
Mozi laughed and shook his head. “Not at all. They were just lucky.”
“But the effort to do so has never ceased?”
“Of course not. Come, let us see the efforts of the last civilization.” Mozi led Wang to a corner of the observatory platform. The ground spread out beneath them like an ancient piece of leather. Mozi aimed one of the smaller telescopes at a target on the ground and gestured for Wang to look. Wang looked through the eyepiece and saw a strange sight: a skeleton. In the dawn light it gave off a snow-white glint and appeared to be very refined.
Astonis
hingly, the skeleton stood on its own. Its posture was graceful and elegant. One hand was held below the chin, as though stroking a long-missing beard. Its head tilted slightly up, as though questioning sky and earth.
“That’s Confucius,” Mozi said. “He believed that everything had to fit li, the Confucian conception of order and propriety, and nothing in the universe could be exempt from it. He created a system of rites and hoped to predict the motion of the sun with it.”
“I can imagine the result.”
“Right you are. He calculated how the sun would follow the rites, and predicted a five-year Stable Era. And you know what? There was indeed a Stable Era … lasting a month.”
“And then one day the sun just didn’t come out?”
“No, the sun rose that day as well. It rose to the middle of the sky, and then went out.”
“What? Went out?”
“Yes. It gradually dimmed, became smaller, and then went out all of a sudden. Night fell. Oh, the cold. Confucius stood there and froze into a column of ice. And there he remains.”
“Was there anything remaining in the sky after the sun went out?”
“A flying star appeared in that location, like a soul left behind after the sun died.”
“You’re sure that the sun really disappeared suddenly, and the flying star appeared just as suddenly?”
“Yes, absolutely. You can check the historical annals. It was clearly recorded.”
“Hmmm…” Wang thought hard about this information. He had already formed some vague ideas about the workings of the world of Three Body. But this bit of news from Mozi overturned all his theories. “How can it be … sudden?” he muttered in annoyance.
“We’re now in the Han Dynasty—I’m not sure if it’s the Western Han or the Eastern Han.”
“You’ve stayed alive until now?”
“I have a mission: observing the precise movements of the sun. Those shamans, metaphysicians, and Daoists are all useless. Like those proverbial bookish men who could not even tell types of grains apart, they do not labor with their hands, and know nothing practical. They have no ability to do experiments, and they’re immersed in their mysticism all day long. But I’m different. I know how to make things.” He pointed to the numerous instruments on the platform.