by Cixin Liu
Laughter immediately echoed throughout the com-system; the officials without technical backgrounds were always the butt of ridicule in situations like these.
“I don't even know by how many magnitudes the forces produced by eight one-hundred-kiloton nuclear weapons exceed the pressure needed to transform graphite into diamonds,” someone finally noted.
Just then Yuan's clear voice rang out through all of their headphones, bursting with childish enthusiasm: “The big explosion sure didn't make diamonds, but I'll tell you what it did make; a black hole! A tiny black hole! It will suck all of us in and then swallow the Earth! We will be sucked into a nicer universe!”
“Ha, ha, kid,” Professor Kamensky chuckled. “The pressures created by the explosion were not powerful enough for that.” He turned, now addressing the child's father. “Professor Shen, your boy really has some strange ideas in that head of his! But what are the results of the experiment? What did that alloy become? I would guess you can't find it, right?”
“I wouldn't know yet,” Huabei said, pointing onward. “Let us go and see for ourselves.”
The nuclear explosions had forced the center of the cave into a gigantic sphere, turning its bottom into a round basin. The swaying beams of several helmet lamps focused on the exact center of this basin.
“Those are the members of the sugarcoating test team,” Huabei explained.
They all made their way to the center of the basin. It felt like walking down a stretched-out hillside.
Suddenly, Professor Kamensky stopped. Squatting down, he felt the ground with both hands. “The earth is shaking!” he shouted in surprise.
The others now felt it, too. “It couldn't be an earthquake triggered by the warheads' explosion, could it?” someone asked.
Wenjia shook her helmeted head. “No. The geological structure of the eradication sites underwent repeated surveys; there is no way the explosion could have caused an earthquake. This shaking is no quake; it started after the detonation and has continued uninterrupted since. Professor Deng Yiwen said that it was somehow linked to the sugarcoating test, but I am not privy to the specifics.”
Approaching the center of the basin, they felt the shockwaves emanating from deep within the ground increase in intensity, growing strong enough to send a tingling sensation up their legs. It almost felt as if an uneven, gigantic wheel was rumbling wildly in the Earth beneath them. Reaching the center of the basin, one suited-researcher from the small group of people gathered at the very bottom rose to greet them. It was the previously mentioned Deng Yiwen, the scientist responsible for the experiments compressing materials with nuclear explosions.
“What's that in your hand?” Huabei asked, pointing at the large, whitish ball Yiwen was holding.
“Fishing line,” Professor Deng answered as he left the small circle of people and squatted on the ground in front of them.
Everyone in the circle was staring into a small hole in the ground. The researchers had found it there after the rock melted by the explosion had re-hardened. The strange hole was about four inches in diameter and appeared to be perfectly circular. Its edges seemed flawlessly smooth, giving the hole the appearance of having been bored by a drilling rig. The fishing line in Professor Deng's hand was incessantly unraveling into the hole.
“Look,” he said, gaze on the hole. “It has already gone down more than thirty thousand feet and we are still far from the bottom. Radar probes have shown that it is close to one-hundred-thousand feet deep, and it is still going even deeper.”
“How did it form?” someone asked.
“It was bored by the experimental alloy after the compression. Whatever became of the alloy sank into the ground below, like a stone sinking in the ocean. The shaking is caused by reverberations as it passes through denser layers of rock.”
“Heavens, that's unbelievable!” Professor Kamensky exclaimed in shock. “I was sure that the alloy would be vaporized by the heat of the explosion.”
Professor Deng agreed. “If it had not been packed in sugarcoating, it most certainly would have, but it was, and so the alloy – before it ever had a chance to evaporate – was compressed into a new state of matter by the sugarcoating-enhanced implosion. We thought that supersolid would be a good name for it, but physicists already use that term, so we decided on 'new solid state'.”
“Are you saying that this thing's density, compared to the density of the earth below, is analogous to the density of a stone dropped into water?” Professor Kamensky asked, still somewhat incredulous.
“A good deal denser,” Professor Deng pointed out. “The main reason why a stone sinks in water is because water is a liquid. Consider that if the water freezes solid its density does not change much, but drop a stone on it and the stone will not sink. The new solid state matter, on the other hand, actually sinks through rock. You can see that its density must be truly amazing!”
“So you’re saying that it has become the stuff neutron stars are made of?” An edge of fear had crept into Professor Kamensky's voice.
Professor Deng shook his head. “At this point we cannot measure it precisely, but we can be rather certain that, given its rate of descent, the matter's density is significantly less than that of the degenerate matter inside a neutron star. If it really was neutron star matter, it would fall through the Earth as quickly as a meteorite plunges through the atmosphere; we would right now be at the center of both a volcanic eruption and a massive earthquake. It is a state of matter somewhere between conventional solid and degenerate matter.”
“Can it fall to the center of the Earth?” Yuan asked excitedly.
“It is possible. At a certain depth it will begin to sink through the liquid parts of Earth and that should further ease its way down!” Professor Deng answered the boy.
“How cool! How cool!” Yuan bounced in joy.
As everyone's focus was drawn to that hole, Huabei's entire family quietly retreated from the scene and into the darkness a good distance from the group. Other than the slight rumble in the ground, everything was perfectly quiet and peaceful. Even the beams of their helmet lights seemed to dissolve into the surrounding darkness. It felt as if they were nothing but three abstract presences, floating in an infinite void.
They switched over to a private channel of their suits' communication system. At that very moment, his parents asked Yuan to make a decision that would determine the rest of his life: He could go with his father or with his mother.
Shen Yuan's parents were faced with a tragedy significantly worse than divorce: His father was suffering from terminal stage leukemia. Shen Huabei did not know if his illness was related to his research work with nuclear material, but he was certain that he had less than six months to live. Fortunately, cryo-hibernation technology had advanced in great strides. He would be able to safely wait for a cure for his leukemia in deep cryo-sleep.
Yuan had the choice of either going into hibernation alongside his father, waking up together with him in the future, or to continue a waking life with his mother. Even though, all things considered, the latter was obviously the wiser choice, the boy was leaning toward going with his father. Huabei and Wenjia had decided to use this occasion to take another shot at convincing him.
“Mom, I want to stay here with you. I don't want to go to sleep with father!” Yuan immediately declared.
“You changed your mind?” Wenjia was pleasantly surprised.
“Yes! I think that I don't need to go to the future. Right now will be fun, too. There's that thing sinking to the center of the Earth just now. How cool is that?” Yuan was clearly excited.
“Are you sure?” Huabei asked as his wife glared at him, obviously afraid that their son might change his mind again.
“Of course,” Yuan called out. “I'll go look in that hole...” The beam of his helmet lamp bounced rapidly into the distance as he ran toward the heart of the basin.
Watching her child rush off, Wenjia expressed her worries. “I really don't know if I'll
do right by him; that kid is really taking after you, always living in one of his dreams. Maybe the future would be better for him.”
Placing a hand on each of his wife's shoulders, Huabei said encouragingly, “Who knows what the future will bring? And anyway, what is the problem with him taking after me? The world will always need dreamers.”
“His dreaming alone does not trouble me; it’s the reason I love you. But don't you see the other side of our child? He's already been made class monitor of two of his classes in school!” she said imploringly, the concern in her voice only deepening.
“I am well aware, but I really don't know how he pulled that off,” he replied, clearly oblivious.
“His desire for power is as sharp as a razor's edge and he lacks neither the ability nor means to realize it. In that way he is completely unlike you.” There was a cautious note in her voice now.
“Ah, yes. It does raise the question of how he will be able to join those two natures,” Huabei mused, his cavalier tone having all but disappeared.
“I am more worried about what their joining might lead to,” Wenjia said. Her voice was now lost in concern and thought, hiding some of her inner alarm.
The boy's silhouette had completely disappeared in the distant group of headlamps. Turning away, both Huabei and Wenjia turned off their own lamps, becoming one with the darkness.
“It does not matter; life goes on. I will wait for the right technology to come along. Maybe it will be next year, maybe it will be in a century. Maybe ...” Huabei's voice trailed off into the all-encompassing silence, “maybe it will never come. You'll easily live another forty years. Please promise me one thing: If a cure hasn't come along in four decades, you must wake me up. I at least want to see you and the boy one more time. Do not let this be our final goodbye.”
“Do you want to see an old woman and a grown man ten years your senior in the future? But it is as you said, life goes on.” In the dark Wenjia managed a miserable smile.
In this giant cave forged by nuclear fires, husband and wife silently lingered as their last shared hours slowly drifted away.
The very next day, Huabei fell into dreamless cryo-sleep. Wenjia and their dreamer of a son continued down the treacherous road of life, toward an unknown future.
CHAPTER
2
Rude Awakening
It took him an entire day to really wake up. As his consciousness slowly began to stir, he found the world before his eyes shrouded in white fog. Ten hours passed before he was able to make out vague shadows in the haze, even as those shadows remained almost as white as everything else. Another ten hours later, he discovered that they were doctors and nurses.
Cryo-sleep robbed those in hibernation of all sense of time and so Huabei remained completely certain that he had just entered the cryo-chamber on that blurry day long ago. His addled mind concluded that the systems must have malfunctioned just as he prepared to enter his long sleep.
As his vision continued to recover, he was able to make out a hospital ward. All of its walls were white and a lamp on the side of his bed emitted a soft light. It all looked very familiar, further confirming his suspicion.
However, he soon learned that he was wholly wrong: The ceiling above him suddenly glowed in a blue light. Seconds later, a strikingly clear writing appeared above him:
Good morning! Living Earth Cryo-Vault, the company responsible for your cryo-sleep, declared bankruptcy in 2089. Your hibernation services were subsequently transferred in full to the Jade Cloud Company. Your current hibernation serial number is WS368200402 – 118. You have retained all rights entitled to you by your contract with the Living Earth Cryo-Vault. You have successfully undergone treatment and all your ailments have been cured before you were awakened. Please accept the Jade Cloud Company's congratulations to your new life.
You have been in hibernation for 74 years, 5 months, 7 days and 13 hours. Your prepayment fully covered all expenses.
Today is the April 16, 2125. We welcome you to the future.
It took another three hours before his hearing slowly began to recover. With it, his speech returned. After sleeping for 70 years, his first words were, “What about my wife? What about my son?”
A thin, tall doctor standing next to his bed handed him a folded piece of white paper. “Mr. Shen, this is a letter your wife wanted you to have,” she said as he eagerly but awkwardly took the paper from her hands.
Even in my days people only rarely resorted to paper… Huabei never uttered the words groggily swimming into his mind; he merely looked at the doctor with wondering eyes and began to unfold the paper with both of his numb hands. That was when he found the second proof that he had indeed leapt through time: The paper was completely blank. Then, a blue light shimmered across its surface and writing began to appear. Soon it filled the entire page. Before entering cryo-sleep, he had on countless occasions imagined the first words his wife might say to him as he woke up, but what was written on the paper exceeded his wildest fantasies:
My Dearest Huabei, you are in immediate danger!
When you read this letter, I will have already passed away. I have entrusted this letter to Dr. Guo. You can trust her; perhaps she is the only person left on Earth you can trust. Follow whatever plan she may have for you.
Please forgive that I did not keep my promise to wake you after forty years. Our Yuan turned out to be a completely unimaginable man and he has done unimaginable things. As his mother, I did not know how I could face you. It broke my heart. My entire life has been for nothing. Please take care.
“My son? Shen Yuan?” Huabei called out as he strained with all his strength to prop himself up, his body still weak and unwilling.
“He died five years ago,” the doctor answered, her voice colder than ice. She seemed utterly indifferent to the heartache this message inflicted. However, she almost immediately seemed to realize that she was talking about this man's son, and in more comforting tones added, “Your son lived to the age of seventy-eight.”
It seemed as if that was the best she could say about him.
She retrieved a card from her coat and handed it to Huabei. “This is your new identity card. You can find the information stored on it in the letter,” she explained.
Huabei turned the letter over and over again, carefully watching the paper through his clouded eyes, but no matter how often he flipped it he could find nothing but Zhao Wenjia's short note. As he turned the letter, he noticed water-like rippling marks on the creased parts. It reminded him of pushing a finger onto an LCD screen back in his age.
Dr. Guo reached a hand out toward the paper, pressing its lower right corner. Immediately the paper's display turned a page, revealing a spreadsheet.
“My apologies,” she said as she withdrew her hand. “Paper in its original sense no longer exists.”
Raising his head, Huabei shot her a quizzical glance.
“It’s because there are no more forests,” she answered at his look, shrugging her shoulders. With a slight sigh, she began pointing to the items on the table. “Your name is now Wang Ruo. You were born in 2097; both your parents are dead and you have no relatives. You were born in Hohhot, but you have come to live here.” She pointed to the entry on the table. “A remote mountain town in Ningxia. It was the best place I could find where you will not attract attention.” She considered him for a moment. “But before you go, we'll need to give you a complete makeover.” Sizing him up, she added with sincere concern, “You must never talk about your son and you must show no interest in him, either.”
“But I was born in Beijing. I am Shen Yuan's father!” he shouted in shocked protest.
Dr. Guo straightened herself. “If you tell anyone outside that,” she said, the ice returning to her voice, “your cryo-sleep and the treatment will have been for naught. You won't last an hour.”
“Whatever happened?” Huabei finally needed to know – now.
The doctor smiled coldly as she began. “There is much in this wo
rld that you probably don't know.” She ever so slightly shook her head. “Well, we should hurry. You should first get out of bed and learn to walk again. We then need to get you out of here as quickly as possible.”
Huabei was about to ask another question when the door shook with a deafening bang. With a crash, it was forced open. Seven people burst into the room and surrounded the bed.
Other than their sudden entrance, these people had very little in common. They were of all ages and each was dressed in their own way. Their only immediately apparent commonality was their strange hats. The weird headgear was wide, broad enough to cover both shoulders, and could have easily been mistaken for a straw hat. Some of the invaders were wearing them and others held them in their hands. Then another, less conspicuous, common attribute became evident to Huabei; each one of them had a transparent breathing mask. Most still wore them over their faces; a few had removed the masks as they entered the room. All of them had turned their grim stares on Shen Huabei.
“This is Shen Yuan's father?” the oldest-looking of these people demanded. Appearing to be at least 80, the old man sported a long, white beard.
Not waiting for the doctor to respond, the people standing around the old man nodded.
“He looks just like his son,” the old man declared. “Doctor, you have fulfilled all your duties to this patient; he belongs to us now.”
“How ever did you learn about his whereabouts?” Dr. Guo calmly asked, standing steady.
Before the old man could reply, a nurse answered from the corner of the ward. “It was me; I told them.”
“You sold out a patient?” Dr Guo snapped, turning angrily to fix a withering glare on the nurse.
“And I am happy that I did,” the unfazed nurse shot back, her angelic face twisting into a sardonic smile.