Skinner's Box (Fang Mu (Eastern Crimes))

by Lei Mi

  "Old Zhou! A man was trying to kill you!"

  The employees at the Institute were talking; everyone had noticed that Dr. Yang's behavior had been quite odd over the past few days. He would lock himself in his office and not come out, not even to make his usual daily rounds. So when Chen Zhe, who had also made himself scarce these past few days, showed up at the Institute, several of the researchers and staff surrounded him and began barraging him with questions. Chen Zhe simply smiled, not deigning to answer, and marched straight to Yang Jincheng's office.

  Not even bothering to knock, he twisted the doorknob, strode across the room, and plopped himself down in the chair in front of Yang Jincheng's desk, where he stared at the director with a faint smile upon his face.

  Strangely, the man's audacity did not seem to surprise Yang Jincheng in the least. He just sat there, perfectly upright in his leather chair, and returned his assistant's gaze with a blank look on his face.

  His boss's bearing caught Chen Zhe off-guard. After staring into the doctor's eyes for a full 30 seconds, he blinked. Taking a moment to compose himself, he said, "Director Yang, I'd like a word with you."

  "Go ahead." Yang Jincheng spoke slowly and deliberately, as if facing an interrogator.

  Exasperation intensifying his resent, Chen Zhe got straight to the point. "I demand that you resign your position as director of the Institute and give it to me. Oh, and," he added, pleased with himself, "if you've already booked your plane ticket for next week's international symposium, you might as well hand it over to me while you're at it."

  When he was finished, Yang Jincheng did not answer him immediately. Instead he took off his glasses and took his time cleaning them. At length he put them back on and looked up at Chen Zhe. "And why would I want to do that?"

  "Because of this." Chen Zhe tossed a thick folder onto the desk right in front of Yang Jincheng. "The Indoctrination Field."

  Chen Zhe had thought the words would shock Yang Jincheng senseless, but instead the man just smiled indifferently, picked up the folder, and weighed it in his hand. "So. Should I address you as 'Mr. Z'?"

  The blood drained out of Chen Zhe's face. "Okay, now that you know, let's cut the bull."

  The smile disappeared from Yang Jincheng's face. A hard light twinkled from the dark eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. "How did you figure out my computer password?"

  "The password is Skinner's Box1990," Chen Zhe said, not backing down from the director's gaze. "It took me about a year to crack it. It wasn't until I discovered the copy of Beyond Freedom and Dignity by B.F. Skinner on your shelves and realized from the wear and tear on it that it was your favorite book that I finally got it. That, and Skinner died in 1990. Am I right?"

  Yang Jincheng narrowed his eyes. "Just who in the hell are you?"

  "Seven years ago, I was just an undergraduate student majoring in psychology. But my dream was to work here at the Institute. When I put in an application for an internship here, I was turned down, but the application of a classmate of mine was approved. It didn't make any sense, because my grades were much higher than his. Stranger still, he was asked to leave before his internship was even finished. Later he mentioned the field work he worked on while he was here, and told me it had mainly consisted of following some ordinary people every day and taking notes on their daily routines. I didn't pay much attention at the time. Instead I busted my butt to get into grad school. After I graduated, I got a job here with relative ease. After becoming your assistant, I began to discover that a very strange system seemed to be in place. There seemed to be a high turn-around among your interns; one day someone was here, the next he was replaced by someone else. This reminded me of my classmate's experience of being asked to leave early, before his internship had been completed, and I began to wonder if some sort of top secret psychological experiment was going on." Chen Zhe's frown deepened. "I knew you had to be behind such an experiment, so I made up my mind to get to the bottom of it."

  Yang Jincheng listened until he was finished, without the slightest hint of emotion on his face. He glanced again at the folder in front of him. "Why would you kill those people?"

  Chen Zhe shut his mouth and looked Yang Jincheng up and down.

  Yang Jincheng laughed contemptuously. "Are you afraid I'll report you?"

  A subtle look of embarrassment crossed Chen Zhe's features, but he quickly regained his look of confident composure. "From the day I came into possession of the Indoctrination Scheme data, I knew my opportunity had come." He picked up the folder and waved it in front of Yang Jincheng. "This data can ruin you. It can also cause my career to skyrocket. I will replace you as head of this research institute, and in doing so I will enjoy unprecedented academic status and fame. But before that happens, I have to make sure that everyone involved keeps his or her mouth shut."

  "By killing them." Yang Jincheng nodded thoughtfully. "Can you guarantee Jiang Dexian and the others in your little psychodrama group won't report you?"

  Chen Zhe began to chuckle, as if he had just heard something absolutely ludicrous. "Report me? Then we'd all go down together!" He suddenly leaned across the desk toward Yang Jincheng. "And for the exact same reason, I know that you will not report me, either."

  Yang Jincheng stared at the face in front of him that was twisted from excitement. Slowly he asked, "What do you want?"

  "Your position! Your thesis!" Chen Zhe was practically shouting now. "And that plane ticket!"

  Yang Jincheng grimaced, but immediately afterward the corners of his mouth turned upward in a big grin.

  "Why are you smiling?" Chen Zhe exclaimed. "Quit smiling!"

  Yang Jincheng only guffawed harder, belly shaking as he rubbed his chin with his fingers.

  "What are you? Fucking insane or something?" Chen Zhe stood, his face now deathly pale. "Stop laughing!"

  Yang Jincheng clapped his hands, laughing as if the man in front of him were a ridiculous clown. When he finally stopped laughing, he asked, "Do you know what the whole point of the Indoctrination Field was?"

  Chen Zhe was again caught off-guard. Involuntarily, he recited, "To determine the causes of PTSD and to treat it by way of psychodramas."

  Yang Jincheng laughed. "You truly are an intelligent person, and cruel enough to boot. If years ago you and I had conducted the experiment together, perhaps things would have turned out much better than they have. It's too bad your intelligence has been wasted."

  He pointed at the folder on his desk. "I have no plans to keep this a secret forever. Within a few decades, no doubt the Indoctrination Field Scheme will be made public. If all goes well, it could happen even sooner. So, nothing I've done can harm me, nor can you use it to threaten me."

  He stood, ignoring Chen Zhe as he sat frozen in his chair with mouth agape, and walked over to his bookshelves. He retrieved the copy of Beyond Freedom and Dignity and tossed it onto the desk. "I recommend that you give this book a careful read. The perhaps you will understand the true meaning of the words Skinner's Box."

  Surprise, panic, and despair all chased each other across Chen Zhe's face. He sat stunned like a man who had just turned in a winning lottery ticket, only to learn that one of its numerals had been rubbed off. "If I go public with this right now you'll be ruined!" he cried in protest.

  Yang Jincheng did not reply. Instead he just pointed at the book and smiled. "Read it. You will come to realize that history will judge fairly. As it judged Einstein and Skinner, so will it judge me."

  He walked slowly to the door. "You will find nothing here. I will not report you, of course. Next week I will go overseas to take part in the symposium, and it could be a long time before I return. I will make a recommendation to my superiors for someone to take over my position as director here, but rest assured, that person will never be you." Yang Jincheng paced around the room in a slow circle. "Since you seem to enjoy sitting here so much, I will allow you to remain in my office a while longer, if you like. But I warn you, do not touch my teacup."

&n
bsp; At that he pulled the door open and took a step out. Before the door shut behind him, however, he stuck a hand out to stop it and poked his head back into the office. "Oh, by the way. I forgot to tell you something." The smile he flashed at Chen Zhe positively oozed ridicule. "Zhou Zhenbang is still alive. Just the day before yesterday, he and I had a chat together."

  He then turned and let the door close, with Chen Zhe still sitting in the chair, ashen-faced.

  As soon as he was out of his office, Yang Jincheng quickened his pace. Ignoring the obsequious employees who bowed as he passed, he headed straight for the conference room.

  The conference room was completely empty. He ascended the podium, reached down to grope along the little shelf behind it, and a moment later pulled out an electronic access control card reader. From his inside pocket he retrieved a plastic card and deftly swiped it through. A soft beep sounded, and a widening gap appeared in the floor beneath the podium to reveal a set of stairs leading downward.

  Yang Jincheng pulled open the bulkhead, stooped over, and walked down the stairs into the hidden passageway. After 20 meters of narrow hallway, he came to a door. On the wall next to it was an access control panel containing another card reader. He swiped his card and opened the door.

  And was back in the little secret chamber attached to his office.

  After Zhou Zhenbang had left the Institute, Yang Jincheng had had certain renovations done to the place. At the time, he had merely been planning for a rainy day; he had never dreamed of how delightfully useful the secret passageway might be someday.

  On the computer screen the video window displayed a clear view of the inside of his office. Chen Zhe was still sitting in the little chair, with his back to the desk, the lines of his face plainly written in murky dejection.

  Yang Jincheng sat down and relaxed in front of the monitor, a contented smile spreading across his face as he relished the view of his adversary's defeat.

  He did not wish to completely vanquish Chen Zhe; his plan was to give them both a way out. In Yang Jincheng's view, the most ideal outcome would be for Chen Zhe to simply leave, so that he would not need to turn him in. Then he could go abroad, according to plan, and then join the new scientific research alliance.

  He knew that if he backed Chen Zhe into a corner, it would only result in mutual destruction. Much better to take a step back to ensure a brighter future.

  But he had overlooked an important truth: If a man believes with all his heart that he is going to hit the 100 million jackpot, but in the end he only gets 50 million, then that man will not rest satisfied.

  The view on the monitor showed a sudden burst of activity. Chen Zhe leaped out of his chair and scanned around the elegantly decorated office, a complex mixture of hatred and resolution contorting the muscles of his face. Moments later he balled his hands into fists, looked up at the ceiling, and closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to boost his own morale.

  After a few seconds, Chen Zhe pulled a SIM card from his pocket and slid it into his cell phone, then dialed a number.

  Yang Jincheng frowned and unconsciously leaned closer to the monitor as he fitted a headset over his ears.

  It seemed someone had answered the phone. Chen Zhe spoke in a voice suddenly full of anxiety and fear.

  "Hello, Mr. Zhou? ...You don't know me, but...I'm calling to tell you that your life is in danger... Yes, someone wants to kill you... Well, you absolutely cannot tell anyone that I was the one who told you... Of course. It's Director Yang at the... Yes. He planned everything. And he is Mr. Z... Me? I'm just one of his pawns... Well, I'm leaving; if he finds out I made this call, he'll never let me go... All right, that's all I have to say. Goodbye."

  As Chen Zhe ended the call, he snorted scornfully. He replaced the phone's SIM card with the original one, and then turned to gaze at the empty leather chair behind the desk, a murderous look in his eyes.

  Yang Jincheng had never expected Chen Zhe would make such a move. He stared at the monitor, jaw muscles rippling, and watched as Chen Zhe opened the office door and walked out.

  A moment later, Yang Jincheng sighed, a tinge of regret tightening his bottom lip. But the emotion was fleeting, and soon the look of cold, iron determination had again masked his face.

  He returned to his office, took his cell phone out of his desk drawer, and dialed Chen Zhe's number.

  "Chen Zhe? Meet me in my office. I've changed my mind."

  Teacher Zhou sat on the edge of the flowerbed, his cell phone grasped tightly in both hands. He suddenly felt as if all his strength had drained from him. The cold from the stones penetrated his clothing and spread through his sore leg muscles, making the prospect of standing up seem even more daunting than before.

  The deformed boiler was lying on its side, and all that was left of the bungalow that had contained it was a ruin of scorched and shattered bricks. Angel Hall's two-story building was still standing, but a large hole gaped in the wall next to the boiler room. A few of the older kids had taken time off from school and were leading a clean-up effort that involved the other children. As they worked, no one spoke a word, not even so much as an "I'm hungry." The dust-covered children bent to the task of shoveling and hauling brick fragments, occasionally stealing a glance at Teacher Zhou where he sat wooden-faced, looking on but not quite seeing.

  At some point another thick bank of black clouds had begun to gather and was moving slowly overhead. It cast a dark shadow on Angel Hall, causing the little two-story building to seem heavier, as if about to crumble under its own weight.

  Teacher Zhou's mind was a complete blank. He thought neither of how they would live now that the building's heating equipment had been destroyed, nor of Sister Zhao and Erbao recovering at the hospital.

  Angel Hall was gone. The place for the angels was no more.

  Teacher Zhou looked up at the leaden sky, and suddenly laughed out loud.

  Yang Jincheng spread the objects in his hands out on the desk, one by one, his face sullen.

  "This thumb drive contains all the relevant information and research data, as well as the thesis I prepared for the international symposium. You can put your name on it. This is the letter of recommendation I've written for the provincial authorities; rest assured, they think highly of my opinion. Here is my letter of resignation; you can submit them both at the same time. Oh, and here…" He opened one of his desk drawers and retrieved an envelope. "Here's next week's plane ticket."

  A poorly concealed elation caused the corners of Chen Zhe's eyes to twitch, but there was still caution in his voice. "Why again did you decide to give up?"

  "The thought of giving up has never crossed my mind," Yang Jincheng said, his face like a mask of iron. "But above all, I respect my profession!"

  Chen Zhe narrowed his eyes and looked Yang Jincheng up and down.

  "All you desire is fame, fortune, and status." Yang Jincheng smirked and threw up his hands. "Fine. I can give you all those things. But only on one condition—that you hire me on as a consultant to the Institute. For one thing, I could assist you in the completion of the Scheme; for another, I might be behind the scenes, but at least I would be in a position to watch with my own eyes as my research changes the world."

  Chen Zhe nodded. "All right, I agree."

  "Okay then. And the other thing you promised?"

  Yang Jincheng's words seemed to have erased all worry from Chen Zhe's mind. The former assistant reached right into his pants pocket and came out with a thumb drive, which he handed over to Yang Jincheng. "All the data and notes are there."

  Yang Jincheng narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him.

  Chen Zhe laughed. "You still don't believe me? I don't have any other tricks up my sleeve. If I were to leak this now, it wouldn't just be your reputation on the line; it would be mine, as well."

  Yang Jincheng chuckled bitterly, but it fell short, belied by his somber eyes.

  Chen Zhe reached out to pat him on the shoulder. "It's all good, ol' Yang; don't be sad. You want r
esults, and I want fame and fortune—what we've got here is called a win-win situation."

  Yang Jincheng leaned sideways to dodge his hand, and gazed around the office, feeling suddenly sentimental. "Chen Zhe, I sincerely hope you keep your promise, and can make the results of the Indoctrination Field experiment applicable to rest of the world."

  "Please, call me Director Chen." Chen Zhe looked at Yang Jincheng over the bridge of his nose. "I am happy to allow you to sit a while longer, if you are feeling reluctant to leave this place."

  Seeing the teasing smile on Chen Zhe's face, Yang Jincheng stood with difficulty. "No, I want to be alone right now." Grudgingly, he slowly let go of the leather armrest. "I leave all these things to you. However, may I at least take this cup with me?"

  Chen Zhe glanced at the precious teacup, and an image leaped into his mind. It was a memory of Yang Jincheng, snarling at him in an arrogant and condescending tone.

  "...I warn you, do not touch my teacup.”

  Chen Zhe draped his fingers over the lip of the cup. Softly, he gave his answer.

  "No."

  A bag full of snacks in hand, Fang Mu hurried up the steps to the third floor of the Provincial Hospital and made his way to Room 313 in the Burn Unit. Sister Zhao was not in her bed. He thought for a moment, then turned and strode down the hall to General Surgery.

  Sure enough, she was sitting next to Erbao's bed, holding the little boy's hand. Her entire right arm was thickly wrapped in gauze and bandages covered parts of her face. Even so, all of her attention was on Erbao, and from time to time she reached up with a little hand towel and wiped tears or snot from his face.

  Fang Mu stood in the doorway a minute longer, then walked over, put the bag down, and gently took the towel from Sister Zhao. As she turned and saw that it was just him, she smiled weakly and made room for him to lean over and touch the little boy's forehead just below the large bandage that wrapped around the back of his head.