Luo Ji and Shi Qiang walked through the underground city shaded by the tree-shaped structures as streams of cars flew through the gaps in the sky above them. Because the buildings were "leaves" hanging in the air, the ground was wide open, and the widely spaced trunks of the giant trees meant there was no sense of streets, just a rolling plaza dotted with tree trunks. The environment was wonderful: The wide swaths of grasses, forests of actual trees, and fresh air all made it look at first glance like beautiful countryside. Pedestrians passed through in shining clothes like glowing ants. Luo Ji was impressed to no end by the urban design that elevated modern noise and crowdedness into the air and let the ground return to nature. Here, there was no shadow of the war, only human comforts and pleasures.
Before they had gotten far, he heard a woman's gentle voice. "Is that Mr. Luo Ji?" He looked around and found that the voice was coming from a billboard on the grass at the side of the road. An attractive woman dressed in a uniform was looking at him from the moving image.
"I am," he said with a nod.
"Hello. I am Financial Counselor 8065 of the General Banking System. Welcome to our era. I will now inform you of your current financial situation." As she spoke, a table of data appeared beside her. "These are your financial records for Year 9 of the Crisis Era, including deposits at the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China and the China Construction Bank. There are investments in quoted securities as well, but those items may have been partially lost during the Great Ravine."
"How does she know I'm here?" he whispered.
Shi Qiang said, "A chip's been implanted in your left arm. Don't worry, these days everyone's got one. It's like an ID card. All billboards can recognize you. Ads are all personalized now, so no matter where you go, everything on the billboards is showing just for you."
Apparently hearing Shi Qiang's words, the counselor said, "Sir, this isn't an advertisement. It's a service from the General Banking System."
"How much do I have on deposit?" Luo Ji asked.
A highly complicated chart appeared next to the counselor. "This is the status of all your interest-bearing accounts since Year 9 of the Crisis Era. It's fairly complicated, but you can access it in your personal information area from now on." Another, simpler chart popped up. "This is your current financial situation in all of the various subsystems of the General Banking System."
Luo Ji had no concept of what those figures meant, and asked blankly, "That's … how much?"
"My boy, you're a rich man!" Shi Qiang said, slapping him vigorously. "I may not have as much as you, but I've still got money. Heh, two centuries of interest—it's a real long-term investment. Pauper to tycoon. I only regret not saving a little more."
"Well … are you sure there's nothing wrong?" Luo Ji asked, skeptically.
"Hmm?" The big eyes of the counselor looked at Luo Ji quizzically.
"It's been more than one hundred eighty years. Wasn't there any inflation? Did the finance system really just continue on smoothly?"
"You're overthinking it," Shi Qiang said, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Luo Ji knew then that tobacco was still around. But when Shi Qiang took one out, he was able to puff out clouds of smoke without lighting it.
The counselor replied, "There were many rounds of inflation during the Great Ravine, and the finance and credit systems came close to collapse. But according to current laws, interest on the deposits of hibernators is calculated according to a special formula that excludes the Great Ravine, and instead transfers the deposit amount over to the financial level of the post-Ravine period and resumes calculating interest from there."
"Wow, that's some preferential treatment!" Luo Ji exclaimed.
"My boy, these are good times," Shi Qiang said, blowing out smoke. Then, raising his still-burning cigarette, he said, "Except the cigarettes are terrible."
"Mr. Luo Ji, this is just an opportunity for us to get acquainted. When it's convenient for you, we can discuss your personal financial arrangements and investment plan. If there's nothing else, then I'll say good-bye." The counselor smiled and waved good-bye.
"I've got one question," he said quickly. He didn't know what to call young women in this era, and didn't want to risk making a mistake by addressing her improperly. So he simply said, "I'm not too familiar with this era, so please forgive me if my question is offensive to you."
The counselor smiled, and said, "Not a problem. Our responsibility is to help you get acquainted with this era as quickly as possible."
"Are you a real person or a robot? Or are you a program?"
The question didn't faze the counselor. She replied, "Of course I'm a real person. Could a computer handle services as complicated as this?"
After the woman on the billboard disappeared, Luo Ji said to Shi Qiang, "Da Shi, there are some things I find hard to understand. This is an age that has invented perpetual motion and can synthesize grain, but computer technology doesn't seem to have advanced at all. Artificial intelligence can't even handle personal finance."
"What perpetual motion? You mean a perpetual motion machine?" Shi Qiang said.
"Yeah. It signifies unlimited energy."
Shi Qiang looked around him. "Where?"
Luo Ji pointed up to the stream of traffic. "Those flying cars. Do they consume oil or batteries?"
Shi Qiang shook his head. "Neither. Earth's oil was pumped dry. Those cars can fly forever without batteries and they'll never run out of power. They're pretty awesome. I'm thinking of getting one myself."
"How can you be so unmoved by a technological miracle? Unlimited power for humanity. This is as big an event as when Pangu created the heavens and the Earth! Don't you realize what a magnificent age this is?"
Shi Qiang tossed aside the cigarette butt; then, thinking better of it, reached down and retrieved it from the grass and threw it into a nearby garbage can. "I'm unmoved? You're an intellectual whose imagination has gotten away from him. The technology is something we actually had in our era."
"You've got to be kidding."
"I don't understand most tech, but I do know a bit about this one thing in particular because, as it happens, I once had occasion to use a police bug that had no batteries but never ran out of power. You know how it worked? It was powered remotely by microwaves. That's what electricity is today, although the methods are a little different from our day."
Luo Ji stopped and stared at Shi Qiang for a long while, then up at the flying cars in the air. He thought about the heating glass, and finally understood: It was just a wireless power supply. The power source emitted electricity in the form of microwaves or other EM radiation to form an electric field over a certain space, allowing any equipment within it to draw power through an antenna or resonant coil. Like Shi Qiang had said, even two centuries ago, this technology was entirely ordinary. The only reason it hadn't been commonplace was because the power loss was too great. Only a small portion of the power emitted into a space could be used, but the majority was lost. In this era, however, mature controlled fusion technology meant that energy sources had been greatly enriched, to the point that losses from wireless power supplies were acceptable.
"And the synthetic grain? Can't they synthesize grain?" Luo Ji asked.
"I'm not really sure about that. Grain is still grown from seed, it's just that it's grown in factories in those cultivation tank things. Crops are all genetically modified, and I've heard that wheat grows just an ear, with no stalk. And it grows pretty quickly because of the strong artificial sunlight, and other things like intense, growth-inducing radiation. A season of wheat and rice can be harvested in a week, so from the outside it looks just like it's produced on a production line."
"Oh—" Luo Ji punctuated his thought with an extended sigh as the gorgeous bubbles before his eyes burst to reveal the true face of the world, and he knew that in this great new era, sophons still floated everywhere and human science was still deadlocked. Existing technology could never cross the line set down by the sophons.
"And the spacecraft that can reach fifteen percent of light speed?"
"Well, that's true. When those warships mobilize, it's like a tiny sun in the sky. And their space weapons—the day before yesterday I saw a news report on TV about an Asian Fleet exercise. A laser cannon swept a target ship as big as a carrier. Half of that iron guy evaporated like a chunk of ice, and the other half exploded like fireworks in a shower of sparkling molten steel. And there are railguns that can fire a hundred iron spheres a second, each the size of a football, at tens of kilometers per second. In a few minutes they can flatten a mountain on Mars.… So even though there isn't any of your perpetual motion, with these technologies, humanity is more than capable of putting down the Trisolaran Fleet."
Shi Qiang handed Luo Ji a cigarette and taught him how to twist the filter tip to light it. They smoked and watched the snow-white swirls drift upward. "Anyway, my boy, these are good times."
"Yes. Good times."
Luo Ji had hardly finished speaking when Shi Qiang pounced on him and the two of them tumbled onto the grass a few meters away, hearing a loud noise at their heels as a flying car smashed into the spot where they had just been standing. Luo Ji felt the impact of the blast, and metal debris whizzed overhead, taking out half the billboard and sending the transparent glass tubes of the display crashing to the ground. While he was still on the ground with a dizzy head and a black eye, Shi Qiang leapt up and ran over to the flying car. Its disc-shaped body was entirely broken and deformed, but due to the lack of onboard fuel, it hadn't caught fire. There was only the sound of sparks crackling in the twisted metal.
"There's no one in the car," Shi Qiang said to Luo Ji, who was limping over.
"Da Shi, you saved my life again," Luo Ji said, leaning on his shoulder and massaging his injured leg.
"I don't know how many times I'll have to. You really ought to grow some sense, and a few more eyes." He pointed to the totaled flying car. "Remind you of anything?"
Luo Ji thought about that occasion two centuries before and shivered involuntarily.
Lots of pedestrians crowded round, the scenes of terror on their clothing flashing as one. Two police cars landed, sirens blaring, and several officers got out to form a line around the broken car. Their uniforms flashed like the police light, drowning out the crowd's clothing with their brightness. The one officer who came over to Shi Qiang and Luo Ji had clothing so bright they had to shut their eyes.
"You were right here when the car fell. You aren't hurt, are you?" he said with concern. He evidently could see that the two of them were hibernators, because he made an effort to speak "ancient Chinese."
Before Luo Ji could answer, Shi Qiang pulled the officer who had asked the question across the tape and out of the crowd. Once they had gotten away, the officer's uniform stopped flashing.
"You need to check up on this. It might be an assassination attempt," he said.
The officer laughed. "Really? It's just a traffic accident."
"We want to report it."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. We're reporting it."
"You're making a big deal out of it. You may have been startled, but it really was a traffic accident. However, according to the law, if you insist on reporting it…"
"We insist."
The officer pressed a display area on his sleeve. It popped up an information window, which he looked over, and then said, "It's been reported. For the next forty-eight hours, the police will track you, but this requires your agreement."
"We agree. We might still be in danger."
The officer laughed again. "It's really a common occurrence."
"A common occurrence? Let me ask you: On average, how many traffic accidents of this kind take place in this city every month?"
"There were six or seven all of last year!"
"I'll have you know, officer: In our time, this city had more than that every day."
"Cars all ran on the ground in your day. I can't even imagine how dangerous that was. Well, you're now in the police surveillance system. You'll be notified of any progress on your case, but, please believe me, this is an ordinary traffic accident. Whether or not you filed a report, you would still receive compensation."
After they left the police and the scene of the accident behind, Shi Qiang said to Luo Ji, "We'd better get back to my place. I don't feel at ease when I'm outside. It's not far. We probably should walk back. Taxis are unmanned, so it's not safe."
"But hasn't the ETO been destroyed?" Luo Ji asked, looking about him. Off in the distance, the fallen car had been lifted up by a larger flying car. The crowd had dispersed, and the police car had left. A municipal works vehicle had landed, and several workmen had gotten out to gather scattered debris and begin repairs to the ground, which had been damaged by the crash. Following the small commotion, the city had returned to its normal, pleasing calm.
"Perhaps it has. But you've got to trust my intuition, my boy."
"I'm no longer a Wallfacer."
"That car didn't seem to think so.… While we're walking, pay attention to the cars above you."
They kept to the "shade" of the treelike buildings as much as possible, and crossed any open spaces they reached at a run. Soon they arrived at a broad plaza, and Shi Qiang said, "My place is just opposite. It's too far to go around, so we'll have to make a run for it."
"Isn't that being a little paranoid? Maybe it was just a traffic accident."
"That's a 'maybe,' though. There's nothing wrong with being careful.… See that sculpture in the center of the plaza? If anything happens, we can hide there."
There was a square sandy area in the center of the plaza, like a miniature desert. The sculpture that Shi Qiang mentioned, located right in the center of the sand, was a group of black pillar-like objects, each two or three meters tall. From a distance, it looked like a grove of withered black trees.
Luo Ji ran across the plaza behind Shi Qiang. When they neared the sandy area, he heard Shi Qiang call, "Hurry. Get in there!" and he was dragged skidding across the sand and then headlong into the withered grove. Lying on the grove's warm sand, he looked up between the black pillars at the sky and saw a flying car zoom down and buzz the grove before pulling up and accelerating away. The gust of wind it left in its wake blew a burst of sand into the air, which hit the pillars with a whoosh.
"Maybe it wasn't headed for us."
"Hmm. Maybe," Shi Qiang said, as he sat up and dumped the sand out of his shoes.
"Will they laugh at us for this?"
"Don't be afraid of that crap. Who's going to recognize you? Besides, we're from two centuries ago, so even if we're entirely normal, people are still gonna laugh. My boy, nothing's lost by being careful. What if the thing really was headed for you?"
Only then did Luo Ji turn his attention to the sculpture they were inside. He noticed that the pillars weren't withered trees, but arms extending out of the desert. The skinny arms were just skin and bones, so at first glance they looked like dead tree trunks. The hands atop them made a variety of distorted gestures to the sky and seemed to express a kind of endless pain.
"What kind of sculpture is this?" Within this group of struggling arms, Luo Ji felt a chill, even though he was still sweating from the run. At the sculpture's edge, he saw a solemn obelisk, on which was carved a line of large golden characters: MAKE TIME FOR CIVILIZATION, FOR CIVILIZATION WON'T MAKE TIME.
"The Great Ravine Memorial," Shi Qiang said. He did not seem interested in explaining further, but led Luo Ji out of the sculpture and across the other half of the plaza at a fast clip. "Okay, my boy. This tree's where I live," Shi Qiang said, pointing to the massive architectural tree in front of them.
Luo Ji looked around him as he walked. All of a sudden he heard the floor creak, and then the ground fell away under his feet and he plummeted downward. Shi Qiang grabbed hold of him when his chest was already at ground level and struggled to haul him up. After he had his footing, the two of them stared at the hole in the ground. It was the mouth of a sewer, and its cover had slid aside just as Luo Ji was about to step on it.
"My god! Are you all right, sir? That's really dangerous!" said a voice issuing from a small billboard next to them. The billboard was attached to a small pavilion containing a machine selling drinks and such, and the speaker was a young man dressed in a blue uniform. His face was pale, and he seemed even more frightened than Luo Ji. "I'm with the Office of Evacuation and Drainage at the Third Municipal Administration Company. That cover opened automatically. It might be a software failure."
"Does this happen often?" Shi Qiang asked.
"Oh, no, no. At least, this is the first time I've ever seen it."
Shi Qiang picked up a small round stone from the grass next to the road and tossed it down the hole. It was quite some time before they heard any sound. "Damn. How deep is it?" he asked the man in the billboard.
"Around thirty meters. So, like I said, it's really dangerous! I've inspected the surface drainage system. The sewers in your day were all pretty shallow. This accident has been recorded. You…" He glanced at his sleeve as he spoke. "Ah, Mr. Luo. You can go to the TMAC to be compensated."
At last they reached the lobby leading to Shi Qiang's tree, #1863. He said that he lived on branch 106, near the top, and advised Luo Ji to eat down below before going up. They went into a restaurant on one side of the lobby. Aside from being as clean as a 3D rendering, one characteristic of this age was even more obvious here than when he first saw it in the reawakening center: Dynamic information windows were everywhere, on the walls, tabletops, chairs, the floor and ceiling, and even on small objects like the glasses and napkin holders on the table. Everything had an interface and display with scrolling text or moving images. It was as if the entire restaurant was a giant computer display showing off a diverse and glittering splendor.
Not many people were dining. They chose a table by the window and sat down. Shi Qiang tapped the tabletop to activate an interface and then ordered a few dishes. "I can't read the foreign writing, so I've only ordered Chinese ones."
"The world seems like it's built using bricks made from displays," Luo Ji sighed.
"That's right. Anything smooth can light up." As Shi Qiang spoke he took out a pack of cigarettes and passed it to Luo Ji. "Look at this. Just a pack of cheap cigarettes." As soon as Luo Ji held the pack in his hands, it started displaying an animated image of several miniature pictures that seemed like an options menu.
"This … it's just a film that can display images," Luo Ji said as he looked at the pack.
"A film? You can go online with this gadget!" Shi Qiang reached over and tapped the pack, and one of the miniature pictures sank in like a button. Then the advertisement he selected took over the entire pack.
In the picture, Luo Ji saw a family with one child sitting in a living room. The picture obviously came from the past, and a shrill voice sounded from the pack: "Mr. Luo, this is the era you used to live in. We know that in that age, owning a house in the capital was the grand dream of every person. Now, the Greenleaf Group can help you achieve that dream. As you can see, this is a wonderful age. Houses have turned into leaves on a tree, and the Greenleaf Group can provide you with every kind of leaf." Here the picture showed a scene of leaves being added to a tree branch, and then a dazzling variety of hanging homes, one of which was even completely transparent, with furnishings inside that seemed suspended in midair. "Of course, we can also build you a traditional home on the surface to return you to the warmth of the Golden Age, and build you a warm … family…" A lawn and detached home, perhaps another old photo, appeared onscreen. The voice artist in the ad spoke in fluent "ancient Chinese," but paused momentarily before the word "family," then said it with particular emphasis. After all, it was something the speaker didn't have, something that belonged to the past.
Shi Qiang took the cigarette pack out of Luo Ji's hands, withdrew the last two cigarettes, passed one to him, and then crumpled the empty pack into a ball and tossed it onto the table. On the crumpled ball, the images still flashed, but the sound had disappeared. "Whenever I go anywhere, the first thing I do is to turn off every screen that's around me. They're so annoying," Shi Qiang said, turning off the tabletop and floor displays with his hands and feet. "But the people here can't be away from them." He pointed around them. "There aren't any computers anymore. Anyone who wants to go online or something can just tap any smooth surface. Clothing and shoes can be used as computers, too. Believe it or not, I've even seen toilet paper that you can go online with."
Luo Ji pulled out a napkin. It was just ordinary, non-wired paper, but the paper box activated, and the pretty woman on it hawked bandages to Luo Ji, evidently aware of today's experiences and guessing that his arms and legs might have gotten scraped up.
"God," Luo Ji sighed, and stuffed the napkin back in the box.
"This is the information age. Our times were pretty damn primitive," Shi Qiang said with a laugh.
While they waited for their food, Luo Ji asked Shi Qiang about his life. He felt a little guilty for only asking now, but looking back on how the day had gone, he had been something of a clockwork machine ticking relentlessly forward. Only now did he have a bit of free time.
"They had me retire. It's not a bad deal," Shi Qiang said simply.
"Was it the Public Security Bureau, or the unit you were at later? Are they still around?"
"They're around. And the PSB is still the PSB. But even before hibernation I wasn't connected to it anymore. The unit I was with later now belongs to the Asian Fleet. You know, the fleet is like a big country, so I'm a foreigner now." Saying this, he exhaled a long cloud of smoke. He watched the cloud ascend, as if he was trying hard to unravel a mystery.
"Countries don't have the significance they used to.… The world's changed. It's confusing. Fortunately, Da Shi, you and I are the kind of indifferent people who can live, and live well, no matter what happens."
"Luo, my boy, to tell you the truth, I'm not as open-minded as you in certain things. I'm not as uninvolved. If I'd been through everything you have, I'd have fallen apart long ago."
Luo Ji picked up the crumpled cigarette pack from the table, opening it to reveal the image that was still showing, with only a little discoloration. It was playing the Greenleaf Group advert. He said, "Whether as messiah, or as refugee, I can always use what resources I have to try and live a happy life. You might think I'm selfish, but to be honest, this is the only thing I respect about myself. Da Shi, let me say something about you. You look like a careless person, but deep in your bones you're someone who prizes responsibility. Leave that responsibility completely behind now. Look at this age. Who needs us? Carpe diem is our most sacred duty."
"Sure, but if I gave up all responsibility, you wouldn't have much of an appetite at all right now." Shi Qiang tossed his cigarette into the ashtray, activating a cigarette advert.
Luo Ji realized he had misspoken. "Oh, no, Da Shi, you've still got to carry out your responsibility to me. I'll die if I leave you. Already today you've saved me one, two, three times. Or at least two and a half!"
"I can't just leave someone to die, you mean? That's the life I've got, a life of saving yours," Shi Qiang said disapprovingly as he cast his eyes about him, probably looking for someplace selling cigarettes. Then he looked back, leaned in to Luo Ji, and whispered, "But you really were a messiah for a little while, my boy."
"It's impossible for anyone in that position to be of sound mind. Fortunately, I'm now back to normal."
"How did you come up with the idea of putting a spell on that star?"
"I was seriously paranoid back then. I don't want to think about it. Believe it or not, Da Shi, I'm certain that while I was asleep, they not only cured my illness, but also conducted psychiatric treatment. Really, I'm not the same person now that I was back then. How could I have been so stupid as to have that kind of idea? That sort of delusion?"
"What delusion? Let me hear it."
"It's difficult to explain briefly. Besides, there's no point. In your work, you must have run into delusional patients, people who were always thinking someone wanted to kill them. Is there any point to listening to those people talk?" Luo Ji methodically tore the cigarette pack into pieces. This time the display was destroyed, but the scraps still flashed in a grotesquely colored heap.
"Okay. We'll talk about something happy. My son is still alive."
"What?" Luo Ji asked, practically jumping up in his surprise.
"I just learned about it two days ago. He looked me up. We haven't met, just spoken by phone."
"He's not…"
"I don't know how long he spent in prison, but afterward he went into hibernation. He said it was to come to the future to see me. Who knows where the kid got the money. Now he's on the surface, and he's arranged to come over tomorrow."
Luo Ji stood up excitedly, sweeping flashing scraps of paper to the floor. "Oh, Da Shi, that's just … We've got to drink to that."
"A drink, then. The alcohol in this age tastes awful, but it's still the same strength."
Then the food came. Luo Ji didn't recognize anything, and Shi Qiang said, "Nothing's good. There are restaurants supplied by traditional farms, but those are all high-end places. We'll eat at one when Xiaoming comes."
But Luo Ji's attention had shifted to the server. Her face and body were unrealistically beautiful, and he saw that the other servers sliding between the tables had the same angelic appearance.
"Hey, don't stare like an idiot. They're fake," Shi Qiang said, without looking up.
"Robots?" Luo Ji asked. At last the future had something he had seen in one of his childhood science fiction stories.
"Sort of."
"What do you mean, 'sort of'?"
Shi Qiang pointed to a robot server and said, "This silly girl only knows how to serve food. They travel fixed paths. How stupid is that? Once I saw a table that had been temporarily moved, but they kept bringing dishes to the original location, so everything crashed to the ground."
When the robot server had laid out the food, it smiled sweetly and wished them a good meal. Its voice did not sound robotic, but was incredibly lovely. Then, it extended a slender hand and picked up the dinner knife in front of Shi Qiang.…
Like lightning, Shi Qiang's eyes shot from the knife in the server's hands to Luo Ji across the table from him. He leapt up, vaulted the table, and pulled Luo Ji violently off his chair to the floor. Almost simultaneously, the robot stabbed the knife right where Luo Ji's heart would have been. The knife went through the back of the chair, activating its information interface. The robot retracted the knife and stood beside the table with a serving tray in its other hand, still with the sweet smile on its unrealistically beautiful face. Panicked, Luo Ji struggled to stand up, then hid behind Shi Qiang. But Shi Qiang just waved his hand, saying, "Don't worry. It's not that agile."
The robot stood motionless, holding the knife and smiling, and once again wished them a good meal in its gentle voice.
The startled diners had clustered around them looking at the scene in amazement. Then the duty manager came rushing over. When she heard Shi Qiang accusing the restaurant's robot of attempted murder, she shook her head. "Sir, that's impossible! Their eyes don't see people. They only see the sensors on the tables and chairs!"
"I'll testify that it picked up a dinner knife and tried to kill that man. We saw it with our own eyes!" one man said in a loud voice. The other onlookers added their proof.
While the duty manager was considering how to rebut this, the robot stabbed the knife at the chair a second time, putting it precisely through the hole punctured the first time and eliciting a few screams.
"Have a pleasant meal," it said with a smile.
A number of other people arrived, including the restaurant's engineer. When he pressed the back of the robot's head, the smile left her face and she said, "Forced shutdown. Breakpoint data backed up." Then she froze in place.
"It's probably a software failure," the engineer said, wiping away cold sweat.
"Does this happen often?" Shi Qiang said with a sarcastic smile.
"No, no. I swear, I've never even heard of anything like this," the engineer said, then directed two assistants to haul the robot out.
The duty manager energetically explained to the customers that until the cause of the failure was identified, the restaurant would use real human servers, but about half of the customers left anyway.
"You both reacted pretty fast," one bystander said admiringly.
"Hibernators. In their era, people had experience with this kind of sudden incident," someone else said. His clothing displayed a swordsman.
The duty manager said to Luo Ji and Shi Qiang, "Sirs, this was truly … Anyway, I guarantee that you'll receive compensation."
"Good. Now let's eat." Shi Qiang beckoned Luo Ji to retake his seat, and a human server brought over new dishes to replace those that had spilled.
Sitting there, his shock not yet abated, Luo Ji felt the uncomfortable hole in the chair back. "Da Shi, it seems the whole world is against me. I used to have a favorable impression of it."
Shi Qiang considered one of the dishes in front of him, then said, "I've got some ideas about this." He looked up and poured Luo Ji a drink. "Ignore it for now. I'll tell you in detail later."
"Here: to carpe diem, to living one day at a time. One hour at a time, even," Luo Ji said as he raised his glass. "Here's to your still-living son."
"Are you really okay?" Shi Qiang said, shooting him a smile.
"I've been a messiah. Nothing scares me." He shrugged, then drained his glass. The taste of the alcohol made him wince. "This is like rocket fuel."
"You kill me, my boy. That attitude of yours has always killed me," Shi Qiang said, sticking up a thumb.
The leaf where Shi Qiang lived was at the top of the tree. It was a spacious house, and was fully equipped with facilities for comfortable living. It had a gym, and even an indoor garden with a fountain.
He said, "The fleet gave me these temporary living quarters. They said I can buy a better leaf with my retirement money."
"Does everyone have so much space to live in these days?"
"Probably. This kind of structure is the best use of space. A big leaf is equivalent to an entire building from our era. But mainly it's because there are fewer people. Far fewer, ever since the Great Ravine."
"But Da Shi, your country is in space."
"I won't be going there. I'm already retired, you know."
Luo Ji's eyes felt more comfortable here, largely because most of the information windows in Shi Qiang's house were closed, although there were scattered flashes in the walls and on the floor. Shi Qiang tapped an interface on the floor with his foot, turning one wall entirely transparent and unfurling the night city before their eyes. It was a dazzling, giant forest of Christmas trees chained together by the lights of the traffic.
Luo Ji went over to the sofa, which was hard as marble to the touch. "Is this for sitting?" he asked. At Shi Qiang's affirmative, he sat gingerly down on it, only to feel like he was sinking into soft clay. The sofa's cushions and backrest adapted to a person's body, forming a mold completely in sync with their body shape, keeping pressure to a minimum.
His vision from the slab of iron ore in the Meditation Room of the UN Building two centuries ago had become reality.
"Do you have any sleeping pills?" he asked. Now that he was in a space that felt safe, exhaustion hit him.
"No, but you can buy them here," Shi Qiang said, and operated the wall again. "Here. Nonprescription sleeping pills. This one, River of Dreams."
Although Luo Ji thought he would witness some sort of high-tech hardware-over-the-network transmission, the reality was much simpler than he imagined. In a few minutes, a small, flying delivery van pulled up outside the transparent wall and delivered the medicine through the portal that had just opened up with a slender mechanical arm. Luo Ji took the medicine from Shi Qiang. It was a traditional box without any active display. The instructions said to take one pill, so he opened the pack, took one out, and reached out for the glass of water on the coffee table.
"Wait a moment," Shi Qiang said, taking the box out of Luo Ji's hands and reading it carefully before returning it to him. "What does this say? The one I asked for was called River of Dreams."
Luo Ji saw a long string of complicated English-language drug names. "I don't recognize it. But it's certainly not River of Dreams."
Shi Qiang activated a window on the coffee table and began looking for a medical consult. With Luo Ji's help, they found one, a white-clothed consulting physician who examined the box, then looked from the box to Shi Qiang with a peculiar expression.
"Where did this come from?" the doctor asked warily.
"I bought it. Right here."
"Impossible. This is a prescription drug. It's only for use in the hibernation center."
"What's it got to do with hibernation?"
"It's short-term hibernation medicine. It can make someone hibernate for ten days to a year."
"You just swallow it?"
"No. It requires a whole set of external systems to sustain internal bodily circulatory functions before short-term hibernation can be achieved."
"And if you take it without them?"
"Then you'd die for sure. But you'd die comfortably. So it's often used for suicide."
Shi Qiang closed the window and tossed the box onto the table. He looked straight at Luo Ji for a while, then said, "Damn it."
"Damn it," Luo Ji said, pitching back onto the sofa. Then he was subjected to the final attempt on his life that day.
When his head touched back against the sofa, the hard headrest quickly adapted to the back of his head and began to form an impression of its shape. But the process didn't stop there. His head and neck continued to sink, until the headrest on either side formed a pair of tentacles that squeezed tight around his neck. He had no time to cry out, but could only open his mouth and eyes and scramble with his hands.
Shi Qiang bounded into the kitchen and returned with a knife, which he used to hack at the tentacles a few times, then resorted to his own hands to pry them from Luo Ji's neck. When Luo Ji left the sofa and pitched forward onto the floor, the sofa's surface lit up and displayed a large string of error messages.
"How many times have I saved your life today, my boy?" Shi Qiang asked, rubbing his hands.
"This is … the … sixth," Luo Ji said, through gasps. He vomited onto the floor. When he finished, he leaned back weakly against the sofa, but then pulled back immediately, as if shocked. He didn't know where to put his hands. "How long will it be before I can be as agile as you and save my own life?"
"Probably never," Shi Qiang said. A vacuum cleaner–like machine glided over to clean up the vomit on the floor.
"Then I'm dead meat. This is a twisted world."
"It's not that bad. I've got an idea about the whole situation, at least. The first attempt on your life failed, and then there were five more attempts. This is stupidity, not professional behavior. Something somewhere must have gone wrong.… Let's contact the police immediately. We can't wait for them to crack the case."
"Who made a mistake, and where? Da Shi, it's been two centuries. Don't just apply your mind-set from our time."
"It's the same thing, my boy. Certain things are the same no matter the age. As for whose mistake it is, I really don't know. I even wonder whether such a 'who' actually exists.…"
The doorbell rang. Shi Qiang opened it to see several people standing outside. They wore civilian clothes, but Shi Qiang identified them before the leader had even flashed his ID.
"Wow. So there are actual footbeats in this society. Come on in, officers."
Three of them entered the house, leaving two others outside to guard the door. The officer in charge, who looked about thirty years old, surveyed the room. Like Shi Qiang and Luo Ji, he had all the displays on his clothes turned off, which put them at ease, and he spoke a pure, fluent "ancient Chinese" without any English words.
"I'm Officer Guo Zhengming with the PSB's Digital Reality Department. I apologize for our tardy arrival. That was negligent. The last time there was a case like this was half a century ago." He bowed to Shi Qiang. "I pay my respects to my senior officer. Aptitude like yours is very rare in the force these days."
As Officer Guo was speaking, Luo Ji and Shi Qiang noticed that all of the information windows in the house had switched off. The leaf had evidently been cut off from the external hyper-information world. The other two officers were hard at work. They were holding something he hadn't seen in ages: a notebook computer. But the computer was as thin as a sheet of paper.
"They're installing a firewall for this leaf," Officer Guo explained. "Rest assured, you're safe now. And I'll guarantee that you'll receive compensation from the municipal PSB system."
"Today," Shi Qiang said, counting off on his fingers, "we've been guaranteed compensation four times."
"I know. And lots of people in lots of departments have lost their jobs over this. I beg for your cooperation, so that I don't join them. Thanks in advance," he said, bowing to them.
Shi Qiang said, "I understand that. I've been in that position. Do you need us to brief you on the situation?"
"No. We've actually been tracking you all along. It's just negligence."
"Can you tell us what's happening?"
"Killer 5.2."
"What?"
"It's a network virus. The ETO first released it about a century into the Crisis Era, and then there were lots of subsequent variants and upgrades. It's a murder virus. First it establishes the identity of the target by a variety of methods including the chip everyone has implanted in their body. When it locates the target, the Killer virus manipulates every possible piece of external hardware to carry out the murder. Its concrete manifestation is what you experienced today. It seems like everything in the world wants to kill you. So, at the time, people called it a 'modern hex.' For a while, the Killer software was even commercialized and sold on the online black market. You entered the personal ID number of your target and uploaded the virus. Then, even if that person was able to evade death, they would still have a hard time living in society."
"The industry developed as far as that? Incredible!" Shi Qiang exclaimed.
"Software from a century ago can still run today?" Luo Ji asked incredulously.
"Sure it can. Computer technology stopped advancing long ago. When the Killer virus first appeared, it killed quite a few people, including a head of state, but eventually it was controlled by firewalls and antivirus software and gradually faded away. This version of Killer is programed specifically to attack Dr. Luo, but because the target was in hibernation, it never had the opportunity to take any concrete action. It stayed dormant and wasn't detected or recorded by the information security system. It was only when Dr. Luo emerged into the world today that Killer 5.2 activated itself and carried out its mission. It's just that its creators were wiped out a century ago."
"They were still trying to kill me a century ago?" Luo Ji said. A mood he thought was gone forever returned, and he struggled to dispel it again.
"Yes. The key thing about this version of the Killer virus is that it was programmed specifically for you. It was never activated, which is why it was still lurking in wait today."
"Then what are we supposed to do now?" Shi Qiang asked.
"The entire system will be cleaned of Killer 5.2, but that will take some time. Before it's completed, you have two choices. First, Dr. Luo can be given a temporary false identity, but this will not totally guarantee his safety and might lead to other more serious consequences. Due to the technological sophistication of the ETO software, Killer 5.2 might have already recorded other characteristics of its target. In one case that caused a sensation a century ago, when a protected individual was given a false identity, Killer used fuzzy recognition to simultaneously kill over a hundred people, target included. The other choice, and my personal recommendation, is for you to live up on the surface for a while. Killer 5.2 won't have any hardware to manipulate up there."
Shi Qiang said, "I agree. Even without this situation, I've been wanting to go up to the surface."
"What's on the surface?" Luo Ji asked.
Shi Qiang explained, "Most of the reawakened hibernators live on the surface. It's hard for them to adapt down here."
"That's right. So you ought to spend at least some time up there," Officer Guo said. "Many aspects of modern society—politics, economics, culture, lifestyle, and relations between the sexes—have changed greatly in two centuries, so it takes some time for us to adapt."
"But you've adapted well enough," Shi Qiang said, looking him over. He and Luo Ji had both noticed that the officer had said "us."
"I went into hibernation because of leukemia, and I was quite young when I reawakened, just thirteen years old," Guo Zhengming said with a laugh. "But people still don't understand the difficulties I've had. I don't know how many times I've gone for psychological treatment."
"Are there many other hibernators like you who have totally adapted to modern life?" Luo Ji asked.
"Lots. But you can still live quite well on the surface."
* * *
"Special Contingent of Future Reinforcements commander Zhang Beihai reporting," Zhang Beihai said, and saluted.
Behind the commander of the Asian Fleet flowed the brilliant Milky Way. Fleet Command was in orbit around Jupiter and rotated continuously to produce artificial gravity. Zhang Beihai noticed that the room lights were relatively dim, and the wide windows seemed intended to integrate the interior environment with space outside as closely as possible.
The commander saluted back. "Greetings, predecessor." He looked quite young, his Asian features illuminated by the glow of his epaulets and cap insignia. When he was issued a uniform on the sixth day after he reawakened, Zhang Beihai had noticed the familiar emblem of the space force: a silver star shining rays in four directions, the rays in the shape of sword. Two centuries had passed, and while the insignia had not changed much, the fleet had become an independent country, with a president as its supreme leader. The commander was just in charge of the military.
Zhang Beihai said, "That's too much, Commander. We're all just new recruits now, who have to learn everything."
The commander smiled and shook his head. "You can't say that. You've already learned everything there is to know here. And the knowledge you've got, we'll never be able to learn. That's why we awakened you now."
"Commander Chang Weisi of the Chinese Space Force asked me to convey his greetings."
Zhang Beihai's words touched something in the commander's heart. He turned and looked out through the window at the river of stars, like the upper reaches of a long river. "He was an exceptional general, one of the founders of the Asian Fleet. Today's space strategy still uses the framework he established two centuries ago. I wish that he could have seen this day."
"Today's achievements are far beyond anything he ever dreamed."
"But all of this began in his … in your time."
Then Jupiter appeared, at first as a sliver of an arc that quickly took over the entire field of view in the window, bathing the office in its orange light. The dreamlike patterns of hydrogen and helium in its vast gaseous ocean were on a breathtaking scale and fascinating in their detail. The Great Red Spot moved into view. The superstorm that could hold two Earths looked like the giant, pupilless eye of this blurry world. The three fleets had put their primary base on Jupiter because its hydrogen-helium ocean held an inexhaustible supply of fusion fuel.
Zhang Beihai was transfixed by the Jovian scene. Countless times he had dreamed of the new domain that now presented itself before his eyes. He waited until Jupiter had moved out of the window before speaking. "Commander, the great achievements of this age are what make our mission unnecessary."
The commander turned to him and said, "No, that's not right. The Future Reinforcement Plan was a farsighted initiative. During the Great Ravine, when the space armed forces were on the brink of collapse, the special reinforcement contingents played a major role in stabilizing the overall situation."
"But our contingent arrived too late to be of assistance."
"I'm sorry, but that's how things are," the commander said. The lines on his face turned gentle. "After you left, they sent more special reinforcement contingents to the future, and the last to be sent out were the first to be reawakened."
"That's understandable, Commander, since their knowledge framework was closer to that era's."
"Right. Eventually your contingent was the only one left in hibernation. The Great Ravine ended and the world entered a period of rapid development. Defeatism had practically vanished, so there was no need to reawaken you. At the time, the fleet made the decision to keep you until the Doomsday Battle."
"Commander, this was actually what we all hoped for," Zhang Beihai said excitedly.
"And it's the highest honor of all space servicemen. They were well aware of this when they made that decision. But present circumstances are totally different, as you of course know." The commander pointed at the river of stars behind him. "The Doomsday Battle might never even take place."
"That's excellent, Commander. My small regret as a soldier counts for nothing compared with the great victory humanity is about to welcome. I just hope you'll be able to fulfill our one request: to let us join the fleet at the lowest level, as ordinary soldiers, to do whatever work we can."
The commander shook his head. "The length of service for all special contingent personnel will resume from the date of reawakening, and ranks will be elevated one or two levels."
"Commander, that shouldn't be. We don't want to spend our remaining years in an office. We want to go to the fleet's front lines. Two centuries ago, the space force was our dream. Without it, our lives have no meaning. But even at our present ranks, we are unqualified for work in the fleet."
"I never said I wanted you to leave the fleet. Precisely the opposite. You will all be working in the fleet to complete a highly important mission."
"Thank you, Commander. But what mission can there be for us today?"
The commander did not answer him. Instead, as if it had only just occurred to him, he said, "Are you okay with talking while standing like this?" The commander's office had no chairs, and the table had been designed to be high enough to work at while standing. Fleet Command's rotation produced one-sixth of Earth's gravity, which meant there wasn't much difference between standing and sitting.
Zhang Beihai smiled and nodded. "Not a problem. I spent a year in space."
"And the language? Do you have any communication problems in the fleet?"
The commander was speaking standard Chinese, but the three fleets had formed a language of their own, similar to the modern Chinese and modern English on Earth, but with the two languages blended more closely. Chinese and English words each accounted for half of the vocabulary.
"At first—mostly because I couldn't distinguish between Chinese and English vocabulary—but I was able to understand it pretty quickly. Speaking is more difficult."
"That doesn't matter. If you just use English or Chinese when you speak, we'll be able to understand you. So that means that the General Staff Department has fully briefed you?"
"That's right. In the first few days on base, they gave us a comprehensive introduction to everything."
"Then you must be aware of the mental seal."
"That's right."
"Recent investigations still haven't discovered any signs of the Imprinted. What's your read?"
"I believe that one possibility is that the Imprinted have disappeared. Another possibility is that they've been deeply hidden. If a person has an ordinary defeatist mentality, they will speak of it to others. But a one-hundred-percent unshakeable technologically hardened faith will inevitably produce a corresponding sense of mission. Defeatism and Escapism are intimately related, and if the Imprinted really exist, then their ultimate mission is bound to be accomplishing an escape into the universe. But to achieve this goal, they have to deeply conceal their true thoughts."
The commander nodded with approval. "An excellent analysis. This is the opinion of General Staff."
"Commander, the second alternative is very dangerous."
"Yes, it is, particularly with the Trisolaran probe so close to the Solar System. The fleet is divided by command system classifications into two major groups. The first, a distributed command system, is a traditional structure akin to the naval craft you once commanded. The captain's orders are carried out by various operating personnel. The second is a centralized command system. The captain's orders are carried out automatically by the ship's computer. The most recently built advanced space warships, as well as those currently under construction, fall into this category. It is mainly against this category of warship that the mental seal poses a threat, because the captain wields enormous power in the command system. He can unilaterally control when the ship leaves and returns to port, its speed and course, and even a large portion of its weapons systems. Under this command system, you could call the ship an extension of the captain's body. Right now, 179 of the 695 stellar-class warships in the fleet have a centralized command system. The commanding officers on board these ships will be the focus of review. Originally, all the warships involved in the review process were supposed to be docked and sealed up, but present circumstances no longer permit this, because the three fleets are preparing to intercept the Trisolaran probe when it arrives. This will be the first actual engagement between the Space Fleet and the Trisolaran invaders, so all warships must be on standby."
"So, Commander, the command authority for centrally commanded warships must be turned over to reliable individuals," Zhang Beihai said. He had been speculating about his mission but had not guessed it yet.
"Who is reliable?" the commander asked. "We don't know the extent of the mental seal, and we have no information about the Imprinted. In these circumstances, no one can be trusted, not even me."
The sun appeared outside the window. Although its light was far weaker than on Earth from this distance, the commander's body was hidden in a glare when the disc passed behind him, leaving only his voice: "But you are all reliable. When you entered hibernation, the mental seal didn't exist. And one of the most important factors for your selection two centuries ago was your loyalty and faith. You are the only trustworthy group available to us in the fleet right now. So the fleet has decided to put the authority of the centralized command system into your hands, to appoint you as acting captains, through whom every order issued by the former captains must pass before being issued to the command system."
Two tiny suns ignited in Zhang Beihai's eyes. He said, "Commander, I'm afraid that's not possible."
"Saying no to an order is not our tradition."
The commander's use of "our" and "tradition" warmed Zhang Beihai, letting him know that the bloodline of the military of two centuries ago still endured in the space fleet of today.
"Commander, we're from two centuries ago, after all. In the context of the navy of our time, it's like using an official in the Beiyang Fleet to command a twenty-first century destroyer."
"Do you think that the Qing admirals Deng Shichang and Liu Buchan20 would really be unable to command your destroyers? They were educated, and their English was good. They would have learned. Today, captaining a space warship doesn't involve technical details. Captains issue general commands, but the warship is a black box to them. Besides, the warships will be docked at base while you serve as acting captain. They won't be navigating. Your duty will be to convey the former captains' commands to the control system once you've determined whether or not the commands are normal. You'll be able to pick that up as you learn."
"We'll have too much power in our hands. You could let the former captains retain a portion of that power, and we could supervise their orders."
"If you think about it carefully, you'll realize that won't work. If the Imprinted really do occupy key battle positions, they'll take any necessary measures to evade your supervision, including assassinating their supervisors. A centrally supervised ship on standby requires just three commands to take off, after which it's too late to do anything. The system must only acknowledge commands from the acting captain."
* * *
As the personnel craft flew past the Asian Fleet's Jupiter base, Zhang Beihai felt he was flying over a range of towering mountains, except each was a docked warship. The naval base had entered nightside orbit around Jupiter, and the steel mountain clusters slept silently under the surface phosphorescence and the silvery moonlight from Europa overhead. A moment later, a ball of white light rose from the edge of the mountain range, lighting the moored ships in perfect clarity in an instant. To Zhang Beihai, it looked like a sunrise over the mountains, casting a moving shadow of the fleet upon the turbulent Jovian atmosphere down below. When a second light rose over the other side of the fleet, he realized it wasn't the sun, but two warships that were entering the dock and turning their fusion engines toward the base to decelerate.
The fleet's chief of staff, who was delivering Zhang Beihai to his new post, told him that more than four hundred warships, representing two-thirds of the Asian Fleet, were now moored at the base. The remainder of the fleet's ships now cruising the Solar System and beyond were also expected to return to port.
Zhang Beihai had to tear himself away from the grand spectacle of the fleet and return to reality. "Sir, won't recalling all of the ships provoke any Imprinted there are to immediate action?"
"Hmm. No, the order recalling the ships was given for another reason—a real one, not an excuse, although it does sound a little ridiculous. You haven't been watching the news lately, I take it?"
"No. I've been reading materials on Natural Selection."
"Don't worry about that. You've got a good grasp of things, judging from the last phase of basic training. Your task now is to familiarize yourself with the systems to the point that everything can proceed in an orderly manner once you go aboard. It's not as hard as you think.… Competition among the three fleets for the task of intercepting the Trisolaran probe has turned into bickering, but a preliminary agreement was hammered out by the Joint Conference yesterday: Each fleet's ships will assemble back at base. A special committee will supervise the execution of the maneuver to avoid any ships being dispatched without authorization to carry out the interception."
"Why has it come to that? Any technological information and intelligence obtained from a successful interception would be shared."
"Yes, but it's a question of honor. There's considerable political capital to be gained by the fleet that makes first contact with Trisolaris. Why did I call it ridiculous? Because it's cheap and absolutely risk-free. The worst thing that could happen is if the probe self-destructs during the interception process, so everyone's gunning for it. If it was a battle with the main Trisolaran Fleet, then all sides would try to preserve their strength. Politics today isn't all that different from your time.… Look, there's Natural Selection."
As the personnel craft approached Natural Selection and the sheer bulk of the iron mountain gradually became clear, the image of Tang floated up in Zhang Beihai's mind. Natural Selection, comprised of a disc-shaped body and a separate cylindrical engine, looked entirely different from that seagoing aircraft carrier of two centuries before. When Tang met its untimely end, it was like he had lost his spiritual home, even though he had never moved in. Now, this giant spaceship gave him a new feeling of home. On Natural Selection's stalwart hull, his spirit found a place to live after two centuries of wandering, like a child enfolded in the embrace of some enormous power.
Natural Selection was the flagship of the third squadron of the Asian Fleet, and in gross tonnage and performance it was second to none. Possessing the latest non-media fusion propulsion system, at full thrust it could accelerate to 15 percent of the speed of light, and its impeccable internal ecological systems could sustain a long-term voyage. In fact, an experimental version of this system was first put into use on the moon seventy-five years ago and had not yet exhibited any major defects or faults. Natural Selection's weapons were the most powerful in the fleet, too. Its gamma-ray lasers, railguns, high-energy particle beams, and stellar torpedoes made up a four-way weapons system that could obliterate the surface of an Earth-sized planet.
Natural Selection now occupied Zhang Beihai's entire field of view so that only part of it was visible from the personnel craft. He noticed that the outer walls of the ship were mirror-smooth, a broad mirror that perfectly reflected the atmospheric ocean of Jupiter, as well as the gradual approach of the personnel craft.
An oval opening appeared in the outer wall of the ship. The craft flew straight inside and came to a halt. The chief of staff opened the cabin door and exited first. Although Zhang Beihai was slightly nervous because he hadn't seen the craft pass through an air lock, he immediately sensed the influx of fresh air from the outside. The technology to maintain a pressurized compartment opening directly into space without allowing air to leak out was not something he had seen before.
Zhang Beihai and the chief of staff were inside a giant sphere the diameter of a soccer field. Spaceship compartments typically adopted a spherical structure, because during acceleration, deceleration, or change of direction, any point on the sphere could serve as a floor or ceiling, and during weightlessness, the center of the sphere would be the crew's main activity space. In Zhang Beihai's time, cabins had been modeled on the structure of Earth buildings, so he was not at all used to this entirely new cabin structure. The chief of staff told him that this was the fighter hangar, but since there were no fighters right now, a formation of Natural Selection's two thousand officers and soldiers was floating in the center of the sphere.
Before Zhang Beihai entered hibernation, national space forces had begun conducting drills in the weightlessness of space. They had developed specifications and drill books as a result, but implementation had been particularly difficult. Personnel could use their space suits' microthrusters to move about outside the cabin, but since they lacked propulsion equipment inside, they had to maneuver by pushing against bulkheads and paddling the air. Under such conditions, it was very difficult to form neat lines. Now, he was astonished at the sight of more than two thousand people floating in space in such a neat formation without any supports. These days, personnel moved through weightless cabins primarily by using magnetic belts, fabricated from superconductors and containing a circuit that generated a magnetic field that interacted with the magnetic field that was always present in the cabins and corridors of the spacecraft. With a tiny controller in hand, they could move freely inside the ship. Zhang Beihai was now putting on such a belt, but it would require skill to master.
He watched the formation of space soldiers, a generation that had grown up in the fleet. Their tall, slender bodies had none of the clumsy sturdiness of people growing up under Earth's gravity, but possessed the light agility of spacers. Three officers were in front of the formation, and his gaze eventually rested on the young woman in the center with four glittering stars on her shoulder—Natural Selection's captain, no doubt. A typical representative of new space humanity, taller even than Zhang Beihai, who was himself quite tall. She drifted easily over from the formation, her slender body floating through space like an elegant musical note. When she reached Zhang Beihai and the chief of staff she stopped, and the hair that had been floating behind her rippled around the fair skin of her neck. Her eyes were full of sunshine and vitality, and Zhang Beihai immediately trusted her, because the Imprinted would never wear such an expression.
"Dongfang Yanxu, captain of Natural Selection," she said, saluting him. A note of playful challenge appeared in her eyes. "On behalf of the entire crew, I offer a gift to my forbear." She extended her hand, and he saw that, although the object she held in it had changed quite a bit, it was still recognizably a pistol. "If you really find that I have defeatist thinking and Escapist goals, you may use this to kill me."