Su-Yong, the true Su-Yong, in the white dress, pulls Ling to her chest, and holds her close. Then she speaks aloud to the Blue version of herself. “We’ll stop this. But if we tell our captors that the agent provocateur is running inside of Ling…” she shudders “The simplest option is to put a bullet in our daughter’s brain.”

Su-Yong enfolds this phantom of her daughter more tightly.

“We’ll find another way,” she says.

Then, in a blur of multi-hued light, she absorbs the other Shus back into herself.

And begins to plan how she will get access to the outside world.

83
Li-hua’s Brain

Sunday 2041.01.13

THE CUBE IS A FAKE!

Bai watched, stone faced, as Xu Liang cowered on the floor before the fury of Su-Yong Shu, or whatever creature this was that they served.

He could feel the agony she was coursing through Xu, echoes of it coming off the poor bastard’s mind.

“I… I… I… I’m sorrrrrrrrrry… missssssstressssssss…” the wretch tried to say.

It was hard to speak with pain centers being over-stimulated.

Bai knew.

WHERE IS THE REAL ONE? THE THREE OF THEM!

“Thhhhhouggghhht… thhhhhis… one… rrrrreeeeaaaal…”

Bai had never seen such a rage in her before. Why didn’t she just pluck the truth from his mind?

She was insane now, that was why. Whatever she’d shoved into Ling’s brain wasn’t stable.

Anything but.

“Bbbbooo Jjjjjjiiinttttttaaaoooo…” Xu Liang was saying. “Sssssunnnn Llllliuuuuuu”.

Bai thought he understood. There were supposed to be three copies. One for the Ministry of State Security. One for the Ministry of Science and Technology. And one that they’d learned had been kept here. The fake.

“Li Hua,” Chen Pang said.

Little Ling’s body rounded on the man, and for an instant Bai thought she’d strike him down.

WHAT?

“Li Hua,” Chen Pang repeated. “You were there. She led the shutdown and backup process.”

Bai watched as the demon inside Ling stared at the girl’s father.

“If this cube is a fake, she may know what happened to the real one.” He shrugged. “It’s easier than abducting Bo Jintao or Sun Liu.”

Bai rode the elevator up with Quang, their chameleonware active, invisible to the world, their minds linked to each other. The doors opened silently, without any announcement. The buttons worked for no one.

The Computer Science Building was packed with students, students uploading images and videos, students coordinating movements of supplies, students building crude electronic weapons against the tanks and guns and flamethrowers of the Chinese army.

Bai and Quang slipped through without being noticed.

At the doors out to the square they paused, in sync, at the sight of thousands of fellow Chinese, waving signs, chanting, cheering, demanding freedom, standing up against an overwhelmingly more powerful enemy.

They exchanged no words. None were needed. They’d talked of this so often. Of a China where the people ruled instead of being ruled.