“Don’t worry, this is the last time I saw her.” He put down the mouse, his gaze leaving the screen. “Very well, thank you. You may turn off the computer.”

“Don’t you want to keep watching?”

“That’s all I have worth reminiscing.”

“We can find where she is right now, no problem!”

“That won’t be necessary. It’s getting late; you should leave. Thank you, truly.”

*

Once Bai Bing left, the Senior Official telephoned the security station, requesting that the building guard come up to his office for a moment. Soon after, the armed police guard entered and saluted.

“You’re … Yang, yes?”

“You have an excellent memory, sir.”

“I didn’t call you up here for anything important. I just wanted to tell you that today is my birthday.”

Taken by surprise, the guard was momentarily lost for words.

The Senior Official smiled indulgently. “Send my regards to the ranks. You may go.” The guard saluted, but just as he turned to leave, the Senior Official seemed to think of something. “Oh, leave the gun behind.”

The guard hesitated, but pulled out his handgun. He walked over and carefully set it on one end of the broad office desk, before saluting again and leaving.

The Senior Official picked up the gun, detached the magazine, and took out the bullets, one by one, until there was only the last. Then he pushed the magazine back in. The next person to handle this gun could be his secretary, or the janitor who came in at night. An empty gun was always safer.

He put down the gun, then stood the removed bullets on the table in a circle, like the candles on a birthday cake. After that he strode to the window, looking across the city to the sun on the verge of setting. Behind the outer city’s industrial air pollution, it appeared as a deep red disk. He thought it looked like a mirror.

The last thing he did was to take the small “Serve the People” pin from his lapel and set it on the flag stand on the desk, beneath the miniature flags of China and the CCP.

Then he sat at his desk, calmly awaiting the last ray of the setting sun.

THE FUTURE

That night, Song Cheng entered the main computer room of the Center for Meteorological Modeling. He found Bai Bing alone, looking quietly at the screen of the booting superstring computer.

Song Cheng came over and patted his shoulder. “Hey, Bai, I’ve already notified your manager. A special car will arrive shortly to take you to Beijing. You’ll give the superstring computer to a central official. Some other experts in the field might listen to your report too. With such an extraordinary technology, it won’t be easy to get people to understand and believe it all. You’ll have to be patient when you explain and give the demonstrations … Bai Bing, what’s wrong?”