by Chen Qiufan
“But I’ve written a program that works like a controlled virus. When activated, as long as two pairs of glasses are less than half a meter apart, it can crack the sharing settings on the other pair and replicate itself over along with a designated segment of captured video. For the next few days, we can use our eyes instead of our mouths and ears to communicate. You can take videos of yourself talking in the mirror and then spread the videos around, or pass on any unusual scenes you manage to capture. Do you understand?”
The young men pondered this for a while and turned to Li Wen with eyes full of awe, as though he were some god sitting high above. Li Wen tried to stop their worshipful gazes with a clumsy explanation: “I’m the source for almost all the augmented-reality glasses in this town. It’s no big deal to make the key to open locks I installed myself.”
“So what should we do now?”
“Look at me.” Li Wen turned the face of one of the waste men toward himself. “Let’s test this out.
“This is a war, a war between us and them. Mimi is one of us. She is our family, our sister, our child. And we must protect each other like we protect our land, air, and water.” An unnatural, bitter smile appeared on Li Wen’s serious face, mixed with a trace of guilt as though he were the real assailant. “The Luo clan wants Mimi. They have their smart monitoring net, but we have our human spies. If they dare try to harm her again, you guys must cast the view to everyone. We’ll get justice from the natives of Silicon Isle through honorable and legitimate ways, the justice that belongs to each one of us.”
The young man who was staring at Li Wen unplugged his glasses from the box in Li Wen’s hands, looked thoughtful for a minute until the green light at the upper right corner of the lens lit up, and turned to one of his companions. The two nodded at each other in a ritual greeting full of meaning, and as their foreheads leaned toward each other, another green light lit up like a firefly eager to mate.
* * *
Looks like I have to get this done myself.
Luo Jincheng gazed at the misty, rain-drenched scene outside the car window. His spies reported that Mimi was in the ICU of the Silicon Isle Central Hospital. She was in a coma and only Chen Kaizong was with her, the American and Director Lin Yiyu having just departed. Only a few guards left behind by Director Lin were posted outside the ward. This is our best chance to act, the voice on the other end of the phone call had urged.
Drops of rain on the glass, buffeted by the wind, rolled about, attracted each other, coalesced into flickering streams that traced out complicated patterns against the blurred background, then broke apart, disintegrated, and returned to separate, glistening drops.
Like people’s fates, Luo whispered to himself.
You think fate is in your own hands; but in reality, fate isn’t controlled by anyone. It follows its own path.
Everything he did was perhaps preordained by fate, like the narrow paths followed by the droplets of water under the influence of the wind, the tremors experienced by the car, the tiny motes of dust stuck to the surface of the glass, and countless unknown other forces. A younger Luo Jincheng would have called those forces a person’s natural-born talents, vision, diligence, or luck—but he now knew that all these were impor tant but also unimportant. A person was situated in the grand picture that was the world, immense and unpredictable; all that he could know of the world was fragmentary and limited, like a blind man trying to know the elephant by touch—and this picture was constantly and rapidly expanding.
The car stopped in front of the hospital. A few of his underlings walked ahead of him, with him following close behind. They had deliberately dressed plainly, hoping to be mistaken as patients or visiting family, but their mechanical, regular gait and their alert postures exposed them. Others quickly got out of their way, their faces full of apprehension.
The guards at the door of the ICU noticed the unfriendly newcomers and tried to call for backup, but in a minute they were immobilized and forced to kneel in a corner. An unsheathed knife glinted coldly in front of their eyes: the threat silent but powerfully oppressive.
Luo Jincheng nodded, pushed the door open, and walked into the ward by himself. Kaizong looked up, revealing an exhausted face filled with alarm and suspicion.
“Who are you?”
“Luo Jincheng.”
The young man paused, as if searching for the name in his memory. His brows suddenly knit into an expression of fury.
“What are you doing here? You’re not wanted.”
Luo Jincheng shook his head carelessly. He walked closer to the bed to get a better look at the patient, but Kaizong blocked his way.
“Get out of here! Now!” He growled quietly like some cornered beast.
“Young man, you need to watch your manners.” Luo Jincheng retrieved a pack of high-quality blue-packaged Zhongnanhai cigarettes, picked one out, tapped it, and held it between his lips. “Don’t listen to those wagging tongues. I never laid a finger on your girlfriend.” He pointed at the woman on the bed, plugged full of tubes and electrodes. “She is your girlfriend, right?”
Before Luo Jincheng could retrieve his lighter, Kaizong grabbed the cigarette out of his lips and tossed it onto the ground, grinding it into the floor with his shoe.
“You will pay for this!” Fire seemed to shoot out of Kaizong’s eyes and he clenched his fists, shaking uncontrollably as though two forces were struggling for dominance in his body. In the end, he did not swing his fist but spat on the ground—half a month ago, Kaizong would have been disgusted by such behavior.
“I’m sure I will. But before then, I’d like Mimi to help me.”
Kaizong glanced at the emergency call button next to the bed; his mobile phone was there, as well.
Luo waved a finger, indicating that Kaizong should not behave rashly. “I have a few men waiting for me outside, but I came in here by myself. This is a gesture of goodwill, do you understand?”
Kaizong took a deep breath, as if weighing the entire situation. “What do you want from Mimi?”
“You are asking questions! Now, that’s a good start.” Luo took out his phone and tapped the screen a few times before handing it over to Kaizong. “Recognize this?”
It was the photograph of Mimi sitting in front of the junk heap with the prosthetic limb, looking thoughtful. The photograph had given Kaizong his first impression of Mimi, and he resisted the impulse to turn and stare at that scarred face with tightly shut eyes, now mostly hidden behind the oxygen mask.
“The picture was taken by my son, Luo Zixin.” Luo’s tone became gentle and slow, full of worry. “After that, he caught some strange disease and fell into a coma. The doctors can’t help him.”
“And you think Mimi can?” Kaizong’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“We need to hold a ritual.” Luo seemed a bit embarrassed. Choosing each word carefully, he revealed the ridiculous plan. “It’s the ‘oil fire’ ceremony. The lohsingpua will exorcise the misfortune from my son through Mimi.”
Kaizong was stunned; he stood still as if trying to devote every bit of brainpower to understand the words. Then he began to laugh hysterically. The tense atmosphere in the room seemed to transform into joy, and a few faces looked in at the window at the unusual sound.
“You’re very funny, Boss Luo, really funny.” Abruptly, Kaizong cut off his laughter and broke the illusion of good cheer. “Do you think that you can risk the lives of others just so you can try to save your son through some ignorant witchcraft?”
“When I was your age, I held the same contempt for superstition.” Luo Jincheng nodded to show understanding. Then he returned to his habitual commanding tone. “When you’re older, you’ll have seen so much that you can’t help but start to believe certain things. Why don’t you keep going?”
Suspiciously, Kaizong flipped through some more pictures in the phone’s album. After a few pictures of pots of flowers and seascapes, his breath caught and his pupils contracted. The phone shook in his trembling hands.<
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“You’re looking at my men. They disobeyed my orders and, on their own initiative, did some bad things to Mimi. They’ve paid the price.” Luo Jincheng paused for a moment, staring at Kaizong. “But I didn’t do this to them.”
Slowly, the horrible images of the broken corpses slid across the phone screen and were replaced by the picture of the robot whose dark metallic frame was limned in gold in the dawn light. The robot was leaning at a sharp angle, pushing itself up with its arms plunged into the earth; in the ground directly under its chest was a person-sized depression whose outline seemed familiar.
“I don’t understand…” Kaizong’s brows were knit in a deep frown. The information before his eyes wove into a complex net, but there was a missing piece in the middle, a dark hole.
“Lin Yiyu is a sly dog: unless the meat is fat and juicy, he wouldn’t extend his paws.” Luo Jincheng carefully observed Kaizong’s reactions. “Ah. I guess your boss didn’t tell you the whole truth either. He’s also looking for Mimi through the government. The Lin clan must be getting something out of this.”
“But why?”
“That is also why I’m here. The answer to all the riddles is in this girl.” Luo gazed at the figure of Mimi in the hospital bed and added in a whisper, “Maybe even my son’s salvation.”
Kaizong walked next to the bed, and his gentle, sorrowful gaze fell against the bruises, scrapes, and red scars on Mimi’s pallid skin, followed the lines and tubes of various colors onto the dark green surface of the monitor screen with its steady waveforms. He bit his lip and pain distorted his face; a column of air seemed to swell in his throat but was forcefully pushed back down. He hung his head and for a moment, gave the illusion of being a prince about to kiss the slumbering princess, but he remained frozen in his pose.
“You won’t benefit by taking her away now.” Kaizong spoke slowly. “Don’t you understand? The war has already started.”
Luo Jincheng stood under the soft light. His face was dark and his jaw tightened. His arms were crossed and his shoulders hunched, as though distressed by Kaizong’s words.
* * *
Lin Yiyu and Scott Brandle sat next to each other in the backseat of the car, each staring in silence at the blurry, rain-drenched scene outside the car. The slate-gray streets of Silicon Isle slowly slid past the two sides of the car like a Postimpressionist painting done in bold strokes.
Scott’s phone rang. He glanced at it and pressed the Reject button. It rang again.
Director Lin looked at him and made a gesture that meant please. Scott rejected the call again and gave Lin an overly formal smile. Director Lin muttered something in the Silicon Isle topolect.
“You don’t need to be so polite, Director Lin. I know you understand English.”
“… Only a little. Um … the temporary interpreter? He here soon. Chen Kaizong, he busy…”
“You’re far too humble, Director Lin. You don’t need an interpreter at all. I’ve seen your résumé—you were one of the top students on Silicon Isle back in your day.” Scott continued to smile.
“But you need an interpreter, Mr. Brandle.” The habitual, submissive expression disappeared from Director Lin’s face, and his tone was cold and his English smooth.
“So you’ve decided to stop calling me ‘Mr. Scott’? Sorry to be blunt, but you were overacting.”
“On Silicon Isle, acting is sometimes necessary for survival. If you want to do business here, you have to play by our rules.”
“I totally understand. But I don’t understand whose side you are really on. Remember, you can’t possibly please everyone—”
“Especially not Americans.” Director Lin’s eyes glinted with a hint of slyness. “You think I’m a two-faced bastard who’s just a mouthpiece for the government as well as the big clans, ignoring the interests of the people of Silicon Isle. Let me ask you this: have you ever thought about the fact that they are like our parents? Without our parents, we’re nothing.”
Scott lifted his eyebrows, as if recalling something particularly interesting.
“Let me tell you a story,” Scott said. “When I was little, I once ran into my parents’ bedroom and saw them lying on the bed, naked. There was nothing beautiful about those two nude bodies—I was filled with shock and shame. In the end, I pretended that I saw nothing and quietly tiptoed my way out of the room. But if I were to encounter such a scene now, I would perhaps choose to cover them with a blanket. I love my parents, the same as you.”
“I don’t think this is at all an appropriate comparison. There are two sides to every issue: you choose to see only one side.”
“For instance?” Scott laughed contemptuously. “Are you going to start in on yin-yang and the philosophy of tai chi next?”
“For instance.” Director Lin took a deep breath, as though struggling to suppress his impatience and anxiety. “TerraGreen Recycling always treats the three clans as obstacles, instead of applying the principle of divide and conquer and allying with some to check the others; TerraGreen Recycling always wants the government to issue forceful directives, ignorant of the fact that experience has taught the government to be careful and hesitant; TerraGreen Recycling always wants to appeal to the people of Silicon Isle with environmental protection and productivity gains, but you don’t seem to understand that robots are even more efficient and environmentally friendly. The natives are concerned about what will happen to the excess laborers and whether they’ll turn into a roving, destabilizing force. Also, you keep on bringing up Minister of Ecology and Environment Guo Qidao—”
“Oh?” Scott sat up straight.
“It appears that your databases aren’t all-powerful. The young man who tried to steal the data from your computer is a member of an extremist environmental organization called Coltsfoot Blossom. The founder of the organization, Guo Qide, is Minister Guo Qidao’s twin brother … So, I urge you to not jump to conclusions on anything. We Chinese say that you must strategize from the board before your move.”
Scott looked thoughtful and made no reply.
Abruptly, Director Lin’s tone became wheedling. He was so used to switching with ease between his various personality masks that it was sometimes hard for his audience to catch up.
“As for me, all you have to do is trust one thing: on all of Silicon Isle, there’s no one who stands closer to you than I—”
An insistent ring from his phone interrupted his confession. He glanced at Scott and took the call. In a second, his face transformed. He told the driver to turn around immediately and dialed another number on his phone.
“Someone broke into the ICU—” His words hung in the air like the rain-drenched black garbage bags dangling from power lines.
* * *
They call us “the waste people.” Waste is dirty, inferior, lowly, useless, but omnipresent. They produce waste every day; they can’t live without the waste people.
They think we are confined to the shacks, the wastewater pools, the incinerators, the abandoned fields—they are wrong. We are also in the security rooms of their hotels, the kitchens of their restaurants, the medical supply sterilization rooms of their hospitals. The clean water they drink, the cars they drive, the escorts working in their nightclubs, even their babysitters—anywhere where they don’t want to get dirty, the waste people struggle there to make a living. Do they really think they can avoid us?
When they seized Mimi, we saw but said nothing. We’ve grown used to their displays of power, to being treated as trash, to being humiliated, violated, to being discarded after they’re done with us, to disappearing without any noise. We can even imagine everything that was done to this girl, all the tortures, the beatings, the burning with cigarettes, the drowning, the cuts, the rapes, the electric shocks, the live burial.
We just pray that we won’t be the next one to suffer such a fate.
But then, she returned alive. On a rainy night, naked, scarred, covered in blood, she numbly walked through the villages and streets full o
f waste people, like a zombie—but she was a reminder to every witness that they were also only the walking dead of the future. She was like an oracle bringing us a message from the spirits: a person lives not just for the fact of existence itself.
The war has begun.
* * *
Back in the hospital.
“It’s very well written.” Luo Jincheng’s praise was sincere. “Did you write this?”
“It’s an underground pamphlet,” said Kaizong, shaking his head.
“I guessed that it wasn’t you.” Luo smiled as the face of Li Wen flashed before his eyes. “Americans have no need to wade into this muddy water.”
“They are allowing the natives to see this on purpose.”
“This won’t go anywhere. Trust me, I know the Chinese better than you do.”
“I’m Chinese also. Conflicts and pressure have been simmering and building up for ages, needing only a spark. If you take Mimi away at this critical juncture, you’ll be pouring oil on the fire.”
Luo had to admit that Kaizong had a point.
“Then what do you suggest?” He had changed his mind. Originally, he had planned to break into the hospital ward and take the girl away by force. But now, his gut told him that such a course of action was impracticable.
“Disclose the truth; punish the ones responsible severely; establish clear rules.” Kaizong seemed to have been prepared.
“Ha, you’re still thinking like an American.” Luo grinned coldly. Kaizong was advocating changing the rules of the game and reshuffling the cards. TerraGreen Recycling would then be able to take advantage of the situation and seize the initiative. “The truth is in a coma on this bed; the ones responsible are already dead. As for clear rules? There has always been only one rule: the law of the jungle and survival of the fittest.”
Before Kaizong could answer, an alarm ripped apart the silence of the hospital and howled without cease.