Wu never saw the gun shift in Tao’s hand, or the explosion of muzzle fire that put a three-bullet volley directly into his brain.

Tao stepped up to the dead soldier’s body, leaned down, safetied the man’s pistol, then pried it out of his hand.

Sun Liu was shaking on the floor. From a doorway came the sound of crying and weeping.

Tao stared down at the dead soldier.

Every soldier knew death could come. When it did, it would likely come at the hands of someone like them. All soldiers were brothers, doing a job or fighting for a cause, putting their lives on the line for someone or something besides themselves. Death was part of that job. So was killing. There was no mystery there.

Still, it was the people in charge who he’d prefer to take the lives of.

Sun Liu was still shaking. “What… What’s going on?” he said. “Who sent you?”

Tao smiled at the man in as reassuring a manner as he could, even as Daofeng came up with the hypersonic injector.

“Minister Sun,” Tao said. “Welcome to the revolution.”

103
On Set

Sunday 2041.01.20

Zhi Li kept the hood pulled over her head as her eyes scanned the protest site. Lu Song squeezed her hand, a hat tugged down low over his famous face.

The protest was a throng, an insane intensity of people, thousands of them waving signs, chanting, fired up. It was the density and passion of a concert, of a festival. But unleashed. Unrestrained by the usual rules.

It was like nothing Zhi Li had ever seen in China.

And this was just the small one. This was just Jiao Tong.

They’d aimed for the main protest in People’s Square, but the city was so full of people that driving became impossible kilometers back. Jiao Tong was closer.

And this was where it had started.

No one had recognized them yet. She was grateful. They’d hidden their faces to avoid being recognized by police, by soldiers. But now she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be recognized.

She’d come here in a moment of passion, seeing that digital version of herself inciting the masses, she’d suddenly imagined herself a hero, a leader of the revolution, guiding the people to justice.

She’d done that so many times in film, since she was just a child. She knew the lines. She’d read the scripts. She’d had her close-ups.

She’d defeated evil every time.

But this…

All around her, details showed her the reality.

Medical tents being set up. First aid supplies laid out.

Makeshift gas masks handed out. Not nearly enough. Bandanas and scarves being collected, distributed. Cheap goggles where they could.

Sticks and pipes in people’s hands. Sports racquets. Makeshift weapons and waste-bin-lid shields and home-made armor.

The constant buzzing of the drones overhead. Hundreds of them zooming by just above the signs.