“You must get used to the fact that you will never return to the United States of America. Soon, I will tell you about Vietnamese history, starting with Trung Trac and Trung Nhi, the joint queens of Vietnam who ousted the Chinese from our lands in thirty-nine A.D.—yes, as far back as that! Before Ho, there were the Trung sisters. Where was America in thirty-nine A.D.? You will come to understand the futility of your government’s efforts to suppress the rightful national aspirations of the Vietnamese people. You have many lessons to learn, and you will be well taught. But there is much you must tell us as well. Are we in agreement?”

Janson said nothing.

At an eye signal from the interrogator, a carbine smashed into his left side: another electric bolt of agony.

“Perhaps we can start with something easier and work up to the more advanced subjects. We shall talk about you. About your parents and their role in the capitalist system. About your childhood. About America’s abundant popular culture.”

Janson paused, and he heard the sound of metal sliding on metal, as the thick steel bar was inserted between his leg irons again.

“No,” Janson said. “No!” And Janson began to speak. He spoke about what was shown on television and at the movie theaters; Phan Nguyen was particularly interested in what counted as a happy ending, and what sort of endings was permissible. Janson spoke about his childhood in Connecticut; he spoke about his father’s life as an insurance executive. The concept intrigued Phan Nguyen, and he grew scholarly and serious, pushing Janson to explain the underlying concepts, parsing the notions of risk and liability with near Confucian delicacy. Janson might have been telling a fascinated anthropologist about the circumcision rites of the Trobriand Islanders.

“And he led a good American life, your father?”

“He thought so. He made a good living. Owned a nice home, nice car. Could buy the things he wanted to buy.”

Phan Nguyen sat back in his chair, and his broad weathered features were alert and quizzical. “And this is what gives meaning to your life?” he asked. He folded his slender, childlike arms around his chest and tilted his head. “Hmm? This is what gives meaning to your life?”