A miniature projection of a courtyard in the temple complex appeared on the floor. Below the eaves on one side stood a LINGbot: squat, solid, topped by a spherical head. Instead of legs the robot roved about on wheels, and its hands were clasped together in front in meditation mudra, left hand on right, palms up, thumbs touching. The face, smooth as an egg, was devoid of features save for a tiny red light that flickered on the forehead.
The light turned green. She, having embodied the LINGbot, opened her eyes.
The shadow-draped trees rustled in the breeze, redolent of fragrant osmanthus. Hungrily, she drew a deep breath. Then she lifted her hands and moved her fingers one by one, luxuriating in the feeling of the air rushing between them.
A snail crawled slowly across the bare ground in the sun, leaving a dashed trail. Carefully, she caught it, picked it up, moved to the grass under a tree, and gently deposited the creature out of danger.
There were about twenty large water-filled copper basins in the courtyard, full of bobbing fish. The sun gleamed in the water, and fish playfully shuttled between the flickering rays. It was the third day of the Liberation Rite of Water and Land, and the most important rituals were about to take place. Starting at three in the morning, the sima-boundary barrier had been purified, and charms released to invite the attendance of various spirits. A flapping banner solemnly announced the initiation of the core mysteries.
In the afternoon, the ritual for releasing caged animals to gain merits would be performed in front of the main shrine hall. In order to prevent unscrupulous merchants from raising prices, the animals to be released had to be purchased by monks from various live markets half a month ahead of time.
She began her duties. First, she retrieved a few small basins and used a ladle to transfer the fish from the large basins to the small ones. A few of the fish were drifting upside-down, showing their white bellies. These she scooped out and transferred to a separate basin for observation. She felt sad for the dying fish, but then she remembered that the fish that would be successfully released later might not be considered fortunate either. It was likely that opportunistic fisherfolk were already waiting downstream by the river, hoping to catch the fish so that they could be resold as dinner.
Her mind drifted in memories of life and death. Twice a week she was allowed to perform tasks outside the sealed chamber by embodying a LINGbot. Most of the time, she went to hospitals, orphanages, retirement homes, animal shelters, mortuaries, and cemeteries. She had taken care of abandoned babies, abused pets, children with fatal illnesses, and elders on the verge of death. She had also taken care of the bodies of the dead, people as well as animals, chanting sutras for them, praying for their souls. She had adjusted to these duties more quickly than others had in similar circumstances, perhaps because she wasn’t as sensitive to the impact of death, or perhaps because such tasks were the only way for her to experience the world outside the temple. The world was filled with disease, suffering, blood, death, and howls of mourning, but it was also filled with the smells and incandescence of life. Through the nimble hands of the LINGbot, she could touch life in its infinite variety, feel its fragility and strength, joy and pain, despair and hope.
Clacking footsteps entered the courtyard. A boy ran in, lively and rambunctious, about seven or eight years old. He wandered around the courtyard and knelt down at the rim of a large basin, sticking his hands into the water. The fish, frightened, darted away, and water splashed beyond the rim.
She wheeled herself over. “Please don’t play with these fish. They’ll be released later into the river.”
The boy ignored her and continued his efforts, intent on catching a fish. She grabbed his hand, but the boy snatched it away. Enraged, he kicked her hard, and then grabbed a ladle to splash her with water.
She felt no pain. To protect embodied users, LINGbots often had their pain sensors adjusted to very high thresholds. Moreover, she was used to strangers or animals assaulting her when she was trying to carry out her duties in LINGbot form.
She scooped the boy up, holding him by the waist. The boy screamed and fought against her hold, but he couldn’t overcome the pliant yet strong silicone arms. She stayed still, holding onto the boy, waiting for him to exhaust himself.
“This is a sacred place; please don’t mar it with your disturbance.”
She turned around and saw a woman dressed in white, a tiny red mole at the center of her forehead.
“Please put him down,” the woman said.
She couldn’t argue, so she set the boy down.
The woman bent down to the boy. “Why are you trying to catch a fish?”
The boy’s face was scarlet red, but he refused to answer.
“If you really want one, then go ahead. But you may only catch one.”
The boy immediately ran to the basin and bent over the rim. After a lot of splashing and churning, he finally managed to get his hands around a golden-red carp, as thick as his arm. He lifted the fish out of the water. The creature struggled hard, flapping and twisting. The boy laughed.
She was about to go over to save the fish, but the woman in white extended an index finger, gently tapped the head of the carp in the boy’s arms, and then tapped the boy on the forehead. The boy shook, and suddenly his mouth gaped open as his tongue lolled about, a gurgling sound in his throat. Terror filled his eyes as his face turned a deep red like the liver of a pig. The carp dropped from his hands, snapping and hopping on the hard ground.
The woman in white picked up the fish and held it before the boy’s face. “A fish cannot breathe outside water. If it’s out of the water for too long, it will die. You can save it by returning it to where it’s supposed to be.”
Wide-eyed, the boy accepted the fish with trembling hands and deposited it back into the basin. The second the fish was back in the water, he managed to draw a deep breath, and his face gradually recovered its normal color.
“You should go back,” said the woman. “Your mother has been looking for you.”
The boy stood still for a moment and then burst out crying. Still sobbing, he ran for the courtyard exit.
The woman watched him depart and sighed. She turned to the LINGbot. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head.
“I’ve also embodied LINGbots to help out around the temple, and I’ve met some unreasonable visitors, too,” the woman said. “You saved the fish’s life; it’s a merit.”
Startled, she held still and then spoke for the first time. “I don’t believe in karma.”
“Then why did you try to save the fish?”
She tried to answer but couldn’t find the words. Sunlight sparkled in the water. The carp, rescued from a catastrophe, joyously swung its tail in the tank, the sounds of splashing and sloshing echoing crisply from the walls.
The woman in white gazed at the fish. “Do you think fish experience pain?”
She hesitated. “I suppose they do.”
“How do you know?”
“I . . . don’t know.”
The woman sighed. “The scientific community has debated the question of whether fish experience pain for decades. Some researchers discovered nociceptors in fish, sensors that send nervous impulses into the cognitive regions of the brain in a similar manner as corresponding pathways in higher vertebrates, not mere conditioned reflexes. But other researchers insist that the fish brain is too simple, devoid of the cortex found in primates or other mammals, so that fish cannot form thoughts that we should interpret as ‘I am in pain.’ Ultimately, because we’re not fish, we cannot know if they experience joy or pain. Or, more precisely, we cannot know if the suffering of fish is comparable to the pain we experience as humans.”
She listened, only half understanding. But something moved in her heart, as though a pebble had been dropped into a deep well, the reverberations indistinct and dark.
The woman took off a white ring from her right index finger and caressed it absentmindedly. After a moment, she added in a low voic
e, “Perhaps empathy exists not only between one human and another.”
Curious, she asked, “What is that?”
“A gadget given to me by a friend. It’s called LINGpain, capable of recording and replaying nociperception, the nervous system’s responses to hurtful stimuli in different organisms. It allows a person to share pain with others, and to experience the pain of others. I hope that child can remember from now on the sacred nature of each life. Everyone suffers pain.”
She pondered. Then she pressed her artificial hands together and bowed.
The woman bowed back. “I’ll leave you to your work.” She turned and left.
Silence returned to the courtyard. The fish continued their play in the sparkling water, as though unaware of all that had happened.
Inviting Superior Beings and Making Offerings
Thunder, lightning, rain slamming against the eaves.
Inside, Xiao Wang sat across from an aged monk on putuan cushions. The aged monk was gaunt like a bamboo pole, his beard and brow snow-white, each hair erect like a silver needle.
Xiao Wang pressed her hands together and bowed. “The venerable monk is up late.”
The aged monk replied, “Today is the ritual of puja worship. We have to invite the various Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and arhats of different degrees of enlightenment to attend the service and receive offerings. The first rite starts at three in the morning, so I’m up early, not staying up late.”
“You’re up to invite the bodhisattvas,” Xiao Wang said, “whereas I’ve come without being invited.”
“I never said you couldn’t come,” said the old monk.
“Have you had a chance to look over my reports?”
“I have read both. We’ve already made significant progress on integrating LINGcloud with LINGpain so that people can, through the medium of the cloud, experience one another’s suffering. As for your suggestion to use LINGcloud to build schools in remote, impoverished regions, that is a deed of great merit. All the monks are very supportive of the idea. I’ve already asked those in Wenshu and Puxian Institutes to draft a plan of implementation as soon as possible. But everyone is so busy right now with the Liberation Rite, so I’m afraid you still have to wait a little longer”
Xiao Wang nodded. “I know you’re busy, and I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of the night. But my heart is plagued with doubt, and I’m hoping you can help me by answering some questions.”
“Go ahead.”
“I checked the file for Householder Zhou. It turns out that his original name was Zhao Shizong.”
The old monk said nothing.
Xiao Wang continued. “Eighteen years ago, Zhao Shizong’s family died as the result of a horrible crime. While he was out of the country for business, the perpetrators broke into his home and tortured his wife, son, and daughter to death over a period of ten days. The crime wasn’t discovered until half a month later, when neighbors reported the foul stench emanating from the apartment. The perpetrators took advantage of LINGmask software, which allowed users to change the appearance and voice of the subject of a video to simulate anyone else’s, virtually undetectably. This was how they were able to pretend to be members of Zhao’s family during video calls, making him think that nothing was wrong.
“That wasn’t all. They recorded the entire process of their torture and murders, and then released the videos on the web. The videos were spliced together from footage taken by multiple homesecurity cameras and scenes shot from the perspectives of the victims and the perpetrators, as well as video chats between Zhao and the disguised perpetrators, synchronized to the tortures occurring at the time. The videos had been processed such that the faces of the perpetrators were replaced with blank masks, and viewers were encouraged to use LINGmask to replace the faces with their own or the faces of anyone else they liked.
“The vile videos spread like wildfire on the web, and many denounced the criminals and expressed their sympathy for the victims even as they pressed the download button. Some of the videos, after the substitution of other faces, would be re-uploaded. Although social media platforms tried hard to scrub the videos, they continued to go viral through encrypted and hidden channels.”
The old monk sighed. “Amituofo. What a sin.”
Xiao Wang went on. “At that time, someone revealed online that LINGmask had been developed by a group led by Zhao Shizong himself. Zhao’s company had earlier found itself in controversy with the invention of LINGsee, a facial recognition–equipped mobile nanocamera platform that enabled the continuous tracking and filming of designated subjects. Many had accused Zhao’s company of being careless with the resulting surveillance, privacy, and lack of consent issues.
“In response to the uproar, Zhao had led a small group to develop LINGmask, which could automatically seek out videos containing the face of the user and then replace it with a blank mask or another face. Some members of his group pointed out that the software would create even more safety issues and risked being abused by criminals, but the product was nonetheless brought to market and even achieved success.
“The history of LINGsee and LINGmask thus became a rallying point for some trolls, who attacked Zhao and used it as an excuse to deliberately spread the videos of his family’s murders, claiming that Zhao was simply reaping what he had sown, that their deaths were a manifestation of karma.”
The old monk shook his head. “To deliberately detract from the truth with falsehoods; to confuse good and evil. What a sin.”
Xiao Wang continued. “Eighteen months later, the police finally caught the murderers. They were all youths: three boys and a girl. The youngest, the girl, was only twelve, and the oldest, a boy, had just turned eighteen. Due to the heinous nature of the crime, the three boys were sentenced to terms of imprisonment, but the girl, who had not reached the age of legal responsibility, had to be released without penalty. The girl and her mother moved several times, but each time a neighbor would leak her information to the media and reporters would follow them around, giving them no chance to live a normal life. Yet, half a year later, the mother and daughter simply vanished and were never heard from again.”
The old monk said nothing. The sound of rain filled the silence.
Xiao Wang went on. “At first, I thought the two of them, like Zhao Shizong, had adopted new identities and emigrated abroad. But just now, I realized that Zhao Shizong must have been trying to track them down all these years. His sudden return to China and visit to Lingyin Temple must have something to do with the pair. Am I right?”
The old monk said nothing, but held out a hand, palm up. A dharma cloud swirled above his palm, gradually coalescing into a projection of a woman sitting alone chanting sutras, her hair draping to the floor.
Xiao Wang gasped. “Is she . . .”
The dharma cloud shifted and coalesced into a projection of the scene from noon a day earlier, when Xiao Wang had encountered the LINGbot in that courtyard.
“So it is her! Has she been at Lingyin Temple all these years?”
The old monk waved away the projection, pressed his palms together, and bowed. “Amituofo. You guessed right.”
“But how . . . ? Considering how securely Lingyin Temple protects its data, I cannot imagine how Zhao Shizong would find her. Did . . . did you . . .”
The old monk said nothing.
“You invited him to come.” Xiao Wang paused. “I suppose you wish to resolve this sin-steeped enmity?”
“Whether it can be resolved is not up to me, but to the two of them and their fate.”
“But I also found out something about those three boys. After their release from prison, they all soon disappeared, and no corpses were ever found. The police suspected that Zhao Shizong was behind it somehow, but there was insufficient evidence even to initiate a formal investigation.”
The old monk shook his head. “Vengeance begets vengeance; retribution multiplies upon retribution. Where is the end to the chain of suffering? What a sin.”
“He really was behind those disappearances, then? Even though you know his intent, you’re willing to take this risk?”
“The sea of suffering is boundless; only by turning back can you find the shore.”
“But one who is lost in the sea of suffering cannot turn back! How can eighteen years of bitter resentment be dissolved with some recited scriptures?”
The old monk said nothing.
The temple clappers clacked outside. The rain had stopped.
At length, Xiao Wang said, “I still have one more question that I’ve been meaning to ask for a long time.”
The old monk said nothing.
“In your room, there is a memorial tablet with no name of the deceased. Whose soul are you trying to relieve from suffering?”
“It’s late. Let’s talk about this another time.”
Xiao Wang sighed. Her projection dissolved into dharma cloud and dissipated.
Bestowing upon the Dead the Bodhisattva Precepts
It was the fifth day of the Liberation Rite, when the monks would invite the Inferior Beings, meaning all sentient beings in the six destinies and lonely ghosts and lost souls, to receive relief.
At dawn, the monks issued the plea for the guardian spirits to release all sentient beings in the six destinies from their fetters. From noon to evening, a feast of fourteen tables was laid out for the sentient beings, so that they might bathe and change, find their path, resolve their hatred and enmity, cleanse their three unwholesome roots and six karmic courses. That night, the monks would bestow upon the dead the bodhisattva precepts, guide them to repent for their sinful deeds, plant the desire for enlightenment in their hearts, and help them receive the great vehicle precepts, committing to doing good to amend for past evil.
Was it really possible to repent, to receive the precepts, and to be absolved from the sea of suffering and begin a new life?
Xiao Wang stood before the window, watching the waning crescent moon low in the sky.
Entanglements Page 24