by Chen Qiufan
A young teacher spoke to a wall of screens filled with the faces of anxious parents, explaining her concerns regarding their children’s obsessive immersion in virtual reality. As soon as the call was over, she rushed to put on her own VR rig.
A boy who wished to win the school’s Maker Faire sneakily approached his father’s favorite German shepherd with a neural-modification harness.
A naked man logged into an encrypted channel, where an albino alligator with skin covered in tactile sensors wrestled a mechanical octopus in a swamp; the electrical signals from the alligator’s skin were transformed into sexual stimuli injected directly into the man’s cortex. Fifteen thousand co-fetishists were logged into the same channel.
On an open plaza, a group of retired women danced in sync to inaudible music. They were dancing with customized augmented-reality partners, and in their minds they were again as fleet-footed and nimble as they had been decades ago.
In a luxurious apartment, a man sat stiffly on his bed, impassively observing the exaggerated expressions and stale routine of a comedian on TV. He stared at his own face on the giant screen, sobbed noiselessly, and lifted a gun.
A flock of birds rose into the evening air, dissipated like a column of black smoke, and then gathered back together, forming a series of irregular shapes against the indigo sky. Occasionally, the beam of a searchlight swept through, and the black smoke transformed into a flickering patch of silvery gravel. The cameras went through a series of quick cuts and the focal distance was set to maximum in an attempt to follow the flight of one particular bird. All the birds looked like the same bird, following the direction of the flock, imitating the posture of companions nearby; no one dropped out; no one set out on its own; in the jungle, this meant food and safety.
She browsed through the cameras rapidly and patched the disparate images into a smooth, dynamic vision. Like a diving bird, she swooped past a glass wall hundreds of meters tall, and in the mirror was the strange, deformed reflection of the city with its flashing neon lights that engraved the mental patterns of consumerism into the retinas of all viewers, drifting and changing with their shifting gazes.
She saw everything, except herself.
Mimi saw even more: the lonesome, the gamblers, the addicted, the innocent … hiding in brightly lit or dark corners of the city, worth millions or penniless, enjoying the convenient life brought about by technology, pursuing stimuli and information loads unprecedented in the history of the human race. They were not happy, however; whatever the reason, it seemed that the capacity for joy had degenerated, had been cut off like an appendix, and yet the yearning for happiness persisted stubbornly like wisdom teeth.
Mimi felt a wave of pity for them, civilization’s favorite children.
She found what she was looking for, a very-small-aperture terminal mobile satellite communications link installed on top of a van that was showing its age. The signs on the van indicated that the equipment belonged to some privately owned TV station. Mimi couldn’t get into the network from the cameras, however; she had to make a real move.
We’re running out of time. Let’s go have some fun! She seemed to hear Mimi 1’s exhortation to the flock of confused, excited tourists.
Don’t be rash! Mimi 0 warned Mimi 1.
Why not? Mimi 1 smiled at her.
She cut off the video feed to conserve bandwidth and leapt into the void of the network; soon, she found the location of the satellite van, but the network on the vehicle wasn’t hooked up to the VSAT system. Possible plans surfaced in Mimi’s mind one after another, but none of them survived her rigorous analysis.
A gentle reminder: we have about three minutes and twenty-five seconds before the slow arrows catch up to us; only two minutes and thirty seconds before the spiders are alerted, Mimi 1 whispered into her ear.
Shut up! If you think you know better, why don’t you take over? Mimi 0 said angrily.
It’s very simple. Mimi 1 grabbed the wheel from her. Let go.
It was as if a speeding tour bus suddenly lost control and ran into a transparent wall. Mimi felt crushed between two immense forces and she couldn’t breathe. The tourists who had been sitting behind her bounced toward the windshield like bullets, but there was no glass to hold them back. All the consciousnesses riding along with her were suddenly let loose, and, like hundreds of feral horses still dragging their reins, dashed in every direction before being tripped up by the weight of the bus. They commingled, conversed rapidly, and reached a compromise, coalescing into a unified force.
In a flash, Mimi knew their goal; alarm churned her stomach, but it was too late to stop them.
The tourists invaded the security system of the prison just outside the borders of Shantou proper. Using the cracking tools supplied by Mimi 1, they broke through all the digital locks for the cells and locked the prison guards in their offices. It took a few seconds before the prisoners understood what had happened, and, taking advantage of the incredible opportunity, they rushed out of their cells and emerged from the prison gate, heading for freedom in the rain.
Why did you do that? Mimi 0 raged at Mimi 1.
Wait and see. Mimi 1 gestured for her to return to the satellite van.
Within 2.37 seconds, Shantou’s “Compound Eyes” system detected the unusual activity at the prison and raised a level 2 alert that mobilized the entire city’s police force. The TV station that owned the van got wind of the news and ordered the crew to rush to the site for footage of the breaking news. Rapid response was the secret of their victory over the state-owned TV station. The green light for the VSAT system lit up, and the system began searching for and locking on to the satellite signal.
See? Mimi 1 made a joking bow. After you.
Mimi 0 ignored her and invaded the VSAT system, trying to redirect the antenna to point at a secret LOSS, or low-orbit server station.
There’s too much terrestrial interference. We can’t get a steady signal. The C-band used by the VSAT system overlapped in part with the frequencies for terrestrial microwave trunk lines, while the Ku-band, which had higher frequencies, was severely impeded by rain fade. Add to this the rapid progress of the van over uneven terrain, and the uplink signal just couldn’t lock on to the server station.
I guess it’s up to us again. Mimi 1’s tone was teasing, as though she had been prepared for this. Once again, she was about to incite the out-of-control waste people, but this time Mimi 0 stopped her.
No … Her words trailed off weakly.
You know that we don’t have much time. Mimi 1 shook her head. We really have no other choice.
The reveling tourists now behaved like an exploding piece of fireworks in reverse, gradually gathering at the center from their scattered state. The chaotic noises of their thoughts spontaneously harmonized into a rhythm, into a shout, and, like a powerful laser beam, struck the traffic-control-center systems. Signal lights across the city blinked wildly, and terrified drivers tried to dodge out of the way as cars collided and rolled over in an endless series of dull thuds. The spiked blares of horns were as dense as bramble on the noise monitors; columns of smoke unfurled into the sky; firelight flickered everywhere. Panicked passengers emerged from their disabled vehicles holding on to wounded limbs, dragging trails of blood across the road. Sobs, screams, explosions, breaking glass, and the unceasing rain wove into a complex tapestry of atonal music infused with intense pathos.
The satellite van stopped by a pileup involving dozens of cars. The cameraman excitedly jumped out of the cab with the HD camera over his shoulder to capture the scene for the breaking-news broadcast. Rubberneckers gathered to record the sight with their augmented-reality glasses and uploaded the clips to social media before even remembering to help survivors. This was the second piece of hot news occurring within one minute, and as ripples spread over the network, the accidents took some of the attention away from the jailbreak.
I hope you didn’t kill anyone, Mimi 0 said coldly.
I didn’t. Mimi 1’s
tone was serene. They did.
The VSAT system finally connected with the low-orbit server station called Anarchy.Cloud. After confirming the link, Mimi, along with several hundred culprits responsible for the tragedies that had just swept the city, shot four hundred kilometers above the surface of the Earth through a carbon-fiber prism sector antenna. Here, the air was sparse, hot, filled with ions and free electrons, and for a few milliseconds, Mimi experienced the sweet illusion of being back in her real home.
* * *
“Time’s up.” Luo Jincheng’s tone brooked no disagreement. “I’m going to find her even if it means I have to raze the entire village.”
“Three minutes! No, just two!” Hard Tiger’s voice trembled. “My reputation is on the line!”
Luo Jincheng said nothing as he stared at the remnants of the mobile phone, which he had crushed to pieces with his heel. Among the scattered components was a tiny bug, about the size of a bean sprout. That pale-skinned swindler! He no longer believed any promises made by Scott Brandle. He had to find and hold on to the bargaining chip named Mimi. The dishonesty of the American enraged him; in addition to what should have been his by right, Luo was going to squeeze Brandle for even more concessions as compensation.
The bright dots in Hard Tiger’s projection extinguished one by one until the few remaining stars were so sparse that they seemed to outline some imaginary object and form a new constellation, a constellation representing deceit, betrayal, and duplicity. But he couldn’t tell what it really was.
“Bring me Knifeboy,” Luo Jincheng whispered to one of his flunkies. “And gather everyone under my command.”
War had never lacked sacrifices.
An almost naked Knifeboy entered the room crawling on all fours. One end of a thick iron chain was attached to his nose ring, and one of Luo’s goons held the other end. The underling scolded Knifeboy and kicked him in the ribs. The muscles on Knifeboy’s back bulged and a murderous glint shone from his eyes as drool hung from the corners of his mouth. The underling cursed and backed off, pulling the chain taut. A pain-racked Knifeboy lifted his face and breathed heavily.
“Why isn’t he dressed?” Luo Jincheng was displeased.
“Whatever we put on him, he tears off and chews it up in his mouth. He’s really like some rabid dog.”
“Give me the leash.” Luo grabbed the chain and caressed Knifeboy’s scarred face, pity showing in his eyes. The fierce beast instantaneously turned into a tame sheep and curled up at the foot of Luo Jincheng, rubbing his neck against the legs of Luo’s pants and whimpering at his master. It was as though his yearning for normal human emotional bonds, long suppressed, could only be expressed in this sick, twisted manner.
“Good doggie, good doggie. Daddy is going to feed you now.” Luo Jincheng scratched Knifeboy behind the ears and watched with a complicated facial expression as the young man squinted his eyes with pleasure.
Luo Jincheng turned back to Hard Tiger’s display. Only a single bright spot remained, flickering at the center of the universe. Before Hard Tiger had a chance to zoom in to display the relevant details, the entire wall went out. There were no more stars, no more galaxy. In the darkness, only Hard Tiger’s dry, hoarse voice echoed in the empty room. A faint, reddish spot hovered in the air, an afterimage.
“Boss Luo … all of Silicon Isle has been cut off the network.”
Welcome to Anarchy.Cloud.
We provide information storage and remote computing services from low orbit server stations. Our operating entity belongs to no nation, political party, or corporation. As far as practicable, we endeavor to help you circumvent laws like the American PATRIOT Act and the supplements to the European Union’s Article 29 of the Data Protection Directive, which are designed to invade data privacy in the name of antiterrorism.
We are a group of amateur wireless enthusiasts from around the globe with a simple faith in pure libertarianism. ☺ We hope our services can help you, during your brief corporeal existence, to evade authority, resist control, and embrace freedom, equality, and love. XOXO.
The message was automated. Here, four hundred kilometers above the surface of the planet, there were no cameras, no microphones, and no sensors. Everything that was not strictly necessary to the operation of a server farm in space had been stripped away in order to reduce mass and the accompanying costs.
I demand an artificial response. Mimi 1 issued the instruction. There was no answer.
What the hell are we doing here? Mimi 0 could no longer hold back.
I demand an artificial response. Only Nixon can go to China. I repeat: Only Nixon can go to China.
What? Mimi 0 couldn’t believe her virtual ears. Even more unbelievably, Anarchy.Cloud responded.
ANARCHY.CLOUD: Wow, looks like we got ourselves an old hand here. You better have a good reason for waking me up in the middle of the night, China girl.
MIMI: We need an independent network to link my friends and me together. It has to be fast!
ANARCHY.CLOUD: Oho, looks like you’re in a heap of trouble. In another thirty seconds, the net guardian spiders will be on you; there’s also a skilled archer on your tail; Typhoon Wutip is about to make landfall at your physical location, and the wind velocity near the eye is projected to reach 55 meters per second …
MIMI: The only thing you need to tell me is can you do it or not.
ANARCHY.CLOUD: Listen, baby, you lack the necessary equipment. What you are asking for is a fucking reverse intrusion. We’ve never tried anything like that … well, maybe once, but I can’t guarantee anything … More important, what can you give us?
MIMI: The model of Hedy Lamarr’s consciousness. I know you, or at least one of you, has a special hobby in collecting the consciousness models of celebrities.
ANARCHY.CLOUD:… Are you serious? I’ve never heard of anybody uploading her.
MIMI: She died on January 19, 2000, and her brain was im mediately frozen. A couple of decades later, it was thawed out by NeuroPattern, Inc., who did the neural mapping.
ANARCHY.CLOUD: You sound pretty confident of your information.
MIMI: Think about it: she was the prettiest and smartest woman in the history of the human race. She was the inventor of CDMA, sharp, sensual, and she lived a life of endless adventure and glamour. With her, you can … do many things.
She knew she was attempting to control her opponent’s reptilian brain. Though a bit of a dirty trick, it was effective.
ANARCHY.CLOUD: Hmm … One more question: how do we know you have her?
MIMI: That’s easy. She was encrypted and disguised as a digital mushroom, which I downloaded and ingested. Thus … right now she’s a part of me.
ANARCHY.CLOUD: Ah, that explains why you’re so skilled with the frequency-hopping technique.
MIMI: Do we have a deaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa …
The cut-off data stream echoed in Mimi’s mind. Her consciousness came into focus, and she saw again the cold, damp corrugated iron shack filled with the odor of mold. The storm had grown louder and fiercer, and the roof swayed from side to side. Li Wen came closer, his expression one of concern. His lips opened and closed, as though trying to tell her something important. Mimi got up and vertigo struck her as she collapsed into Li Wen’s arms.
Since her awakening, Mimi had never experienced such a strong sense of uncertainty. She was tense, as though she was once again that insignificant waste girl of the past. The golden glow of the mi character on the back of her neck faded, and adrenaline filled her bloodstream.
She knew that the typhoon was about to strike.
17
“Don’t move!”
Kaizong opened his eyes and saw the woman swinging the fish-bone-shaped knife at him. He tensed and reflexively squeezed his eyes shut. Abruptly, the binds around his wrist fell away. The rubber dildo had been sliced apart cleanly, the cut as smooth as a mirror.
Before he could offer a word of gratitude, the woman had dragged him out of the shed. Behind him came the sound of
the steel frame collapsing, and all sorts of prostheses spilled in every direction from the impact of the falling roof, like a spontaneously exploding prosthetic monster.
Kaizong knelt in the mud as the rain drenched him. He trembled, partly from terror and partly from the cold. With quivering, pale lips, he finally managed to squeeze out a “Thank you.”
“You’re lucky. Mimi said she wanted to see you. If I had come another second later, you’d really be no different from that rubber dick.” The woman laughed lasciviously and extended a powerful hand to him. “I’m Dao Lan.”
The cold wind came through cracks in the corrugated-iron walls and scurried around the shack. Still, under the dim yellow light, the room felt much warmer than the outside. However, when Mimi saw Kaizong in his wet, dirty clothes, she didn’t show any signs of intimacy. Instead, she simply walked up and examined him.
“How did you get yourself looking so filthy?”
“The rain was … really heavy,” said Kaizong.
Mimi glanced at Dao Lan, who stood to the side, looking a bit embarrassed.
Kaizong continued. “You are not looking very healthy yourself.”
“My energy consumption is … really heavy.” Mimi tapped the self-injector attached to the inside of her elbow. “I’ll be fine once the drip catches up. What are you doing here?”
“I want you to leave here, with me.” Kaizong grabbed her cold hands, but the hands slid out of his grasp like slippery fish.
“I can’t leave, at least not now.” Mimi shook her head and avoided Kaizong’s heated gaze. “The people here need me. They’re in danger.”
“You’re in danger, don’t you understand?” Kaizong turned away from the others and whispered, “The doctor told me that the blood vessels in your brain could rupture at any moment. Scott promised me that he’d bring you to America and find the best doctors for you.”