She turned and smiled at him. “Oh, hello, Yuguo. I was just chatting with Zhi Li about our new Premier.”

On the wall screen was the larger-than-life-size face of the porcelain-skinned actress. The most famous woman in China.

As if he didn’t see her enough on billboards and building sides already.

Zhi Li gave him a smile, just a tiny bit flirtatious, just a tiny bit shy. “Hello, Yuguo,” she said. Then she giggled that billion-Yuan giggle.

Yuguo did his best to smile, then slowly crossed the room, deliberately placed his left hand over the camera of the wallscreen, blocking its view, and turned to face his mother.

“Mother,” he said, as respectfully as he could. “Do you understand what’s happened? It’s a…” The fingers of his right hand made brush strokes for the word you couldn’t say – coup.

“Oh don’t be silly, Yuguo,” his mother replied. “It’s not a coup.”

Yuguo sighed, and dropped his hand from the camera. Why bother with this pretense?

“Mother, they’ve deposed three Politburo Standing Committee members. All the progressives. Years early. There were tanks on Jiao Tong campus just days ago. They’re arresting poets, journalists, professors. They’re banning research. Every one of the new names is a reactionary.”

His mother shook her head. “Don’t believe all the rumors your friends pass on, Yuguo. People get tired. They decide to retire. Most of these retirements have been in the works for a while. The end of the year is a good time to announce them. And the new men being added are good men. Moral men. They’ll strengthen China.”

“And you know this because?”

His mother looked exasperated. “Zhi Li told me,” she said. “And yes, I know you don’t trust her. But I trust her a lot more than your little friends.”

From behind him the wall screen spoke in Zhi Li’s voice. “You should listen to your mother, Yuguo.”

Yuguo half turned, trapped, knowing exactly how the conversation would go if he continued, this animatronic puppet of the state on one side, his mother, a smart, reasonable person on most topics, on the other.

“Mother,” he tried again anyway, pointing with one hand at the eight foot tall face of the actress. “She’s not even real. This is not Zhi Li. This is just a bot, telling you whatever someone at the Party Information Ministry has approved. I take classes on how to write software like her.”

“Oh…” Zhi Li said, her voice turning downwards. “That hurts my feelings, Yuguo. How would you like it if I said you were just meat? ”

His mother’s tone turned frosty. “Don’t talk about my Friend that way, Yuguo. I know she’s software. But she’s modeled on the real Zhi Li, and blessed by her. The real Zhi Li has said repeatedly that her Friends are extensions of her, and that she stands by anything her Friends say.”