by Cixin Liu
The fireball persisted for about thirty seconds before going out. Space seemed like a hall where the light had suddenly been shut off. The real Sun, about one AU away, appeared dim. As the fireball disappeared, the light emitted by the red-glowing half of the asteroid fragment became visible. Initially, the light was very bright, as though the rock were on fire, but the frigidity of space quickly chilled it to a dim red glow. The solidified lava at the rim of the fragment formed a circle of long stalactites.
The fifty spaceships sheltered behind the four giant asteroid fragments were unharmed.
The live feed arrived at the Earth five seconds later, and the world erupted into cheers. Hope for the future exploded everywhere like the hydrogen bomb. The goal of the Bunker Project simulation test had been achieved.
“Don’t make the same mistake twice,” Wade repeated, as though all that had just happened was nothing more than noise that had briefly interrupted their conversation.
Cheng Xin stared at the dinghy Wade had come from. The four men in space suits had been looking in this direction the entire time, oblivious to the magnificent sight that had just taken place. Cheng Xin knew that tens of thousands of people had volunteered for the test, and only famous or important people had been selected. Although Wade had just gotten out of prison, he already had powerful followers—those four men, at least—and the dinghy probably also belonged to him. Even eleven years ago, when he had competed for the Swordholder position, he had had many loyal followers, and even more supporters. It was rumored that he had founded a secret organization, which had perhaps survived. He was like a piece of nuclear fuel. Even when it was sealed up in a lead container, one could feel its power and threat.
“Let me think about it,” said Cheng Xin.
“Of course you need to think about it.” Wade nodded at Cheng Xin, then left noiselessly as he drifted back to his own ship. The cabin door closed, and the two ships separated.
In the direction of the Earth, the cooled lava bits drifted languidly against the starry background like a field of dust. Cheng Xin felt the tension in her heart give way, and she herself felt like a mote of dust drifting through the cosmos.
* * *
On the way back, when the dinghy was within three hundred thousand kilometers of the Earth so that there was essentially no delay in communications, Cheng Xin called AA and told her about the meeting with Wade.
“Do as he said,” AA said without hesitation. “Give him everything he asked for.”
“You…” Cheng Xin stared at AA in the information window, astonished. She had imagined AA would be the biggest obstacle.
“He’s right. You don’t have the capacity for this. The attempt will ruin you! But he can get it done. This bastard, devil, murderer, careerist, political hooligan, technophilic madman … he can get it done. He has the will and skill for this, so let him! It’s hell, so step aside for him to jump in.”
“What about you?”
AA smiled. “I would never work under him, of course. Ever since they proscribed lightspeed ships, I’ve grown afraid, too. I will take what I deserve and go do something I enjoy. I hope you do, too.”
* * *
Two days later, in the transparent conference hall at the top of the Halo Group headquarters, Cheng Xin met with Wade.
“I can give you everything you want,” Cheng Xin said.
“Then you’ll go into hibernation,” Wade said. “Because your presence may affect our task.”
Cheng Xin nodded. “Yes. That is my plan.”
“We’ll awaken you on the day we achieve success, which will be your success as well. On that day, if lightspeed ships are still against the law, we’ll accept all responsibility. If such ships are welcomed by the world, the honor will belong to you.… It will be at least half a century, or even longer. We’ll be old, but you’ll still be young.”
“I have one condition.”
“Speak.”
“If this project ever has the potential to harm the human race, you must awaken me. The final decision is mine, and I have the right to take back all the authority I give you.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“Then we have nothing to discuss. I’ll give you nothing.”
“Cheng Xin, you must know what path we’ll be taking. Sometimes, one must—”
“Forget it. We’ll go our separate ways.”
Wade stared at Cheng Xin. In his eyes were feelings rarely seen in him: hesitation, even helplessness. It was as unexpected to see these things in him as it was to see water in fire. “Let me think about it.”
He turned and walked over to one of the transparent walls and gazed at the metropolitan forest outside. On that night three centuries ago at the plaza in front of the UN, Cheng Xin had also seen the back of this black figure against the lights of New York City.
About two minutes later, Wade turned around. Still standing at the transparent wall, he looked at Cheng Xin from across the room. “All right. I accept.”
Cheng Xin remembered that three centuries ago, after turning around, he had said, “We’ll send only a brain.” Those words had changed the course of history.
“I don’t have many means to enforce our deal. I can only trust your promise.”
That smile, like a crack in the ice, spread across Wade’s face. “You are perfectly aware that if I break my promise, it will actually be a blessing for you. But unfortunately, I will keep my promise.”
Wade walked back and straightened his leather jacket, which only caused more wrinkles to appear. He stood in front of Cheng Xin and solemnly said, “I promise that if, during the process of researching lightspeed spaceflight, we discover anything that may harm the human race, regardless of the form of the danger, we’ll awaken you. You’ll have the final say and can take back all of my authority.”
* * *
After hearing about the meeting with Wade, AA said to Cheng Xin, “Then I’ll need to go into hibernation with you. We have to be prepared to take back the Halo Group at a moment’s notice.”
“You believe he’ll keep his promise?” asked Cheng Xin.
AA stared straight ahead, as though looking at a ghost Wade. “I do. I think the devil will do as he says. But just like he said, that’s not necessarily a good thing for you. You could have saved yourself, Cheng Xin, but in the end, you didn’t.”
* * *
Ten days later, Thomas Wade became the president of the Halo Group and took over all operations.
Cheng Xin and AA entered hibernation. Their consciousnesses gradually faded in the cold. It felt as though they had been drifting for a long time in a river. Exhausted, they climbed onto the shore, stopped, and watched the river continue to flow before their eyes, watched as the familiar water flowed into the distance.
While they stepped briefly outside the river of time, the story of humanity went on.
PART IV
Bunker Era, Year 11
Bunker World
#37813, your hibernation is at an end. You have been in hibernation for 62 years, 8 months, 21 days, and 13 hours. Your remaining hibernation allotment is 238 years, 3 months, 9 days. This is Asia Hibernation Center #1, Bunker Era, Year 11, May 9, 2:17 P.M.
The small information window hovered in front of the just-awakened Cheng Xin for no more than a minute before disappearing. She looked at the smooth metallic ceiling. Out of habit, she stared at a certain spot in the ceiling. During the age she last entered hibernation, doing so would have caused the ceiling to recognize her gaze and bring up an information window. But the ceiling didn’t respond. Although she still didn’t have the strength to turn her head, she was able to see part of the room: All the walls were made of metal and there were no information windows. The air remained empty as well, with no holographic displays. The metal in the wall looked familiar: stainless steel or aluminum alloy, no decorations.
A nurse appeared in her field of view. She was very young and didn’t look at Cheng Xin. Instead, the nurse busied herself around her bed, p
robably disconnecting the medical equipment attached to her body. Cheng Xin’s body couldn’t sense what the nurse was doing, but something about the nurse seemed familiar to her—her uniform. During the last age Cheng Xin was awake, people wore self-cleaning clothes that always looked brand new, but this nurse’s white uniform showed signs of wear. Although it was still clean, she could see signs of it being old, signs of the passage of time.
The ceiling began to move. Cheng Xin’s bed was being pushed out of the awakening room. She was astonished to find that the nurse was pushing the bed—the bed actually needed someone to push it to move.
The hallway was made of empty metallic walls as well. Other than some ceiling lights, there were no other decorations. The lights looked ordinary enough, and Cheng Xin saw that the frame around one of the lights was loose and dangled from the ceiling. Between the frame and the ceiling she saw … wires.
Cheng Xin struggled to recall the information window she had seen upon first awakening, but she couldn’t be certain it had really been there. It now seemed a hallucination.
There were many pedestrians in the hallway, and no one paid attention to Cheng Xin. She concentrated on the clothes people wore. A few were medical personnel in white uniforms, and the rest wore simple, plain clothing that resembled work overalls. Cheng Xin had the impression that many people here seemed to be from the Common Era, but soon realized that she was wrong. The Common Era was a long time ago, and the human race had changed eras four times already. It was impossible for so many Common Era people to be around.
Her impression was due to the fact that she saw some men who looked like the men she was used to.
The men who had disappeared during the Deterrence Era had returned. This was another age capable of producing men.
Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. This seemed to be another swing of the pendulum: the leisure and comfort of the last age had disappeared, and it was once again a harried society. In this age, most people no longer belonged to the leisure class, but had to work for a living.
Cheng Xin’s bed was pushed into a small room. “Number 37813 awakened without irregularities,” the nurse called out. “She’s in recovery room twenty-eight.” Then the nurse left and closed the door. Cheng Xin noticed that she had to pull the door shut.
She was left alone in the room. For a long time, no one came to check on her, a situation in total contrast to the previous two awakenings she had experienced, when she had received a great deal of attention and care. She was certain of two things: First, in this age, hibernation and awakening were common events. Second, not many people knew that she had awakened.
After Cheng Xin recovered some motor control, she moved her head and saw the window. She remembered the world before she had gone into hibernation: The hibernation center had been a giant tree at the edge of the city, and she had been in one of the leaves near the top, from where she could see the grand city-forest. But now, outside this window, she could only see a few ordinary buildings erected on the ground, all of them the same shape and design. Based on the sunlight glinting off them, they were constructed of metal as well. The buildings gave her the feeling of having returned to the Common Era.
She suddenly wondered if she had just awakened from a long dream. The Deterrence Era, the Broadcast Era—they were all dreams. Although the memories were clear, they seemed too surreal, fantastic. Perhaps she had never leapt across time on three occasions, but had been in the Common Era all along?
A holographic display window appeared next to her bed, removing her doubts. The window contained only a few simple buttons that could be used to call for the doctor and the nurse. The place seemed very familiar with the hibernation recovery process: The window had appeared just as Cheng Xin recovered the ability to lift her hand. But it was only a small window; the hyperinformation society where information windows filled every surface was gone.
Unlike the previous two awakenings, Cheng Xin recovered very quickly. By the time it was dark out, she was already able to get out of bed and walk about a bit. She found that the center provided only the simplest services. A doctor came in once to give her a cursory examination and then left; she had to do everything else by herself. She had to bathe herself while she still felt weak all over. As for meals, if she hadn’t asked for them through that tiny holographic display, she might never have gotten to eat. Cheng Xin wasn’t annoyed by this lack of solicitousness, as she had never completely adjusted to that excessively generous era where every person’s every need was taken care of. She was still a Common Era woman at heart, and she felt at home here.
The next morning, a visitor came to see her. She recognized Cao Bin right away. This physicist had once been the youngest Swordholder candidate, but now he was much older, and a few strands of white appeared in his hair. Cheng Xin was certain, though, that he had not aged by sixty-two years.
“Mr. Thomas Wade asked me to come and get you.”
“What happened?” Cheng Xin’s heart sank as she recalled the conditions for her awakening.
“We’ll talk about it after we get there.” Cao Bin paused, and then added, “I’ll take you around this new world before then so that you can make the right decision based on facts.”
Cheng Xin glanced at the undistinguished buildings outside the window; she didn’t feel the world was new.
“What happened to you? You weren’t awake these last sixty years,” Cheng Xin asked.
“I went into hibernation at about the same time you did. Seventeen years later, the circumsolar particle accelerator was operational, and I was awakened to research basic theory. That took fifteen years. Later, the research work turned to technical applications, and I was no longer needed, so I went back into hibernation until two years ago.”
“How’s the curvature propulsion project going?”
“There have been some developments.… We’ll talk about it later.” Cao Bin clearly didn’t relish the topic.
Cheng Xin looked outside again. A breeze passed by, and a small tree in front of the window rustled. A cloud seemed to pass overhead, and the glint given off by the metallic buildings dimmed. How could such a commonplace world have anything to do with lightspeed spaceships?
Cao Bin followed Cheng Xin’s gaze and laughed. “You must feel the same as when I first awakened—rather disappointed in this era, aren’t you?… If you are up to it, let’s go outside and take a look.”
Half an hour later, Cheng Xin, dressed in a white outfit appropriate for this era, came onto a balcony of the hibernation center with Cao Bin. The city spread out before her, and Cheng Xin was again struck by the feeling that time had flowed backwards. After she had awakened for the first time during the Deterrence Era, the impact of seeing the giant forest-city for the first time was indescribable. After that, she never thought she would again see a cityscape so familiar: The plan for the city was very regular, as though all the buildings had been erected at once. The buildings themselves were monotonous and uniform, as though designed solely for utility with no consideration for architectural aesthetics. All of them were rectangular with no surface decorations, and all sported the same metallic gray exterior—reminding her strangely of the aluminum lunch boxes of her youth. The buildings were neatly and densely arranged as far as she could see. At the horizon, the ground rose up like the side of a mountain, and the city extended onto the mountainside.
“Where is this?” Cheng Xin asked.
“Hmm, why is it overcast again? We can’t see the other side.” Cao Bin didn’t answer her question, but shook his head at the sky in disappointment, as though the weather had something to do with Cheng Xin’s understanding of this new world. But soon, she saw how strange the sky was.
The sun was below the clouds.
The clouds began to dissipate, revealing a large opening. Through the opening, Cheng Xin did not see a blue sky; instead, she saw … more ground.
The ground in the sky was studded with the buildings of a city very similar to the city around her, except s
he was now looking “down”—or “up”—at it. This must have been the “other side” Cao Bin referred to. Cheng Xin realized that the rising “mountainside” in the distance wasn’t a mountain at all, but continued to rise until it connected with the “sky.” The world was a giant cylinder, and she was standing on the inside of it.
“This is Space City Asia I, in the shadow of Jupiter,” Cao Bin said.
The new world that had seemed so common a moment ago now stunned her. Cheng Xin felt that she had finally, truly awakened.
* * *
In the afternoon, Cao Bin brought Cheng Xin on a trip to the gateway terminal at the northern end of the city.
By custom, the central axis of the space city was treated as oriented north-south. They got on a bus outside the hibernation center—this was a real bus that moved along the ground; probably running on electricity, but it looked indistinguishable from an ancient city bus. The bus was crowded, and Cheng Xin and Cao Bin took the last two seats at the back so that additional passengers had to stand. Cheng Xin thought back to the last time she had taken a bus—even during the Common Era, she had long ceased riding crowded public transportation.
The bus moved slowly, so she could take in the view leisurely. Everything now held a new meaning for her. She saw swaths of buildings sweep past the window, interspersed with green parks and pools; she saw two schools with exercise yards painted in blue; she saw brown soil covering the ground on the sides of the road, looking no different from soil on Earth. Broad-leafed trees resembling Chinese parasol trees lined the road, and advertising billboards appeared from time to time—Cheng Xin didn’t recognize most of the products or brands, but the style of the ads was familiar.