Several minutes later, the screen stopped flashing through time, now displaying a newborn baby’s slick, wet face. The maternity ward nurse had just removed him from the scale. The little creature didn’t laugh or scream; his eyes were open and charming, taking stock of the new world around him.

The Senior Official chuckled. “That’s me, all right. My mother always told me that I opened my eyes as soon as I was born,” the Senior Official said, smiling. He was clearly feigning lightheartedness to conceal the breach in his calm; this time, unlike many other times, he wasn’t particularly successful.

“Look here, sir,” Bai Bing said, pointing to a menu bar below the image. “These buttons let you zoom and change angles. This is the time slider bar. The digital mirror program will continue to move forward in time following you as the search object. If you want to find a particular time or event, it’s not that different from how you’d use the scrollbar to look up things in a large document in a word processor. First find the approximate location with large steps through time, then make smaller adjustments, moving the slider left or right based on scenes you recognize. You should be able to find it. It’s also similar to the fast-forward and rewind functions on a DVD player, although, of course, this disk playing at normal speed would take—”

“I believe nearly five hundred thousand hours,” said the Senior Official, doing the mental math for Bai Bing. He accepted the mouse and zoomed out, revealing the young mother on the maternity bed, and the rest of the hospital room. There were a bedside table and lamp in the plain style of that era, and a window with a wooden frame. What caught his attention was a spot of red-orange light on the wall. “I was born in the evening, about the same time as now. Perhaps this is the last ray of the setting sun.”

The Senior Official shifted the time slider, and the image again began to jump rapidly. Time flew past. When he stopped, the screen showed a small circular table lit by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. At the table, his plainly dressed, bespectacled mother was tutoring four children. An even younger child of three or four, clearly the Senior Official himself, was clumsily feeding himself from a small wooden bowl. “My mother was an elementary school teacher. She liked to bring the students having trouble with schoolwork back home for tutoring. That way, she could pick me up from nursery school on time.” The Senior Official watched for a while. His child self accidentally spilled the bowl of porridge all over himself. His mother hurriedly got up, reaching for a towel. Only then did the Senior Official move the time slider.