Cixin Liu - Death's End

Within the PIA, there were two types of reaction to Vadimov’s death. Most of the technical staff, like Cheng Xin, grieved for their boss. The intelligence specialists, on the other hand, appeared more displeased by the fact that Vadimov’s body had not been retrieved in time, rendering his brain unusable.

Gradually, a suspicion grew in Cheng Xin’s mind. It seemed like too much of a coincidence. She shuddered the first time the idea surfaced in her mind—it was too frightening, too despicable to be endured.

She consulted medical specialists and learned that it was possible to intentionally induce leukemia. All you had to do was to place the victim in an environment with sufficient radiation. But getting the timing and dosage right was no trivial matter. Too little would not induce the illness in time, but too much would kill the victim with radiation sickness, possibly damaging the brain. Timing-wise, based on the advanced state of Vadimov’s illness, the scheme against him would have to have begun right around the time the PDC started to promote euthanasia laws around the world. If there was a killer, he was extremely skilled.

Secretly, Cheng Xin swept Vadimov’s office and apartment with a Geiger counter, but discovered nothing unusual. She saw the picture of Vadimov’s family he kept under his pillow: His wife was a ballerina eleven years younger than him, and their little daughter… Cheng Xin wiped her eyes.

Vadimov had once told Cheng Xin that, superstitiously, he never left family photos on desks or nightstands. Doing so seemed to him to expose them to danger. He kept the pictures hidden and only took them out when he wanted to look at them.

Every time Cheng Xin thought of Vadimov, she also thought of Yun Tianming. Tianming and six other candidates had been moved to a secret base near PIA Headquarters to undergo a final series of tests, after which one of them would be picked.

Since meeting Tianming back in China, Cheng Xin’s heart had grown heavier over time, until she sank into a depression. She recalled the first time they met. It was just after the start of their first semester in college, and all the aerospace engineering students took turns introducing themselves. She saw Tianming sitting by himself in a corner. From the moment she saw him, she understood his vulnerability and loneliness. She had met other boys who were isolated and forlorn, but she had never felt like this: as though she had stolen into his heart and could see his secrets.

Cheng Xin liked confident, optimistic boys, boys who were like sunlight, warming themselves as well as the girls with them. Tianming was the very opposite of her type. But she always had a desire to take care of him. In their interactions she was careful, fearful of hurting him, even if unintentionally. She had never been so protective of other boys.

When her friend had come to New York and Tianming’s name came up, Cheng Xin discovered that although she had tucked him away in a distant corner of her memory, his image was surprisingly clear when she recalled him.

One night, Cheng Xin had another nightmare. She was again at her star, but the red sea algae had turned black. Then the star collapsed into a black hole, a lightless absence in the universe. Around the black hole, a tiny, glowing object moved. Trapped by the gravity of the black hole, the object would never be able to escape: It was a frozen brain.

Cheng Xin woke up and looked at the glow of New York’s lights against her curtain. She understood what she had done.

From one perspective, she had simply passed along the PIA’s request; he could have said no. She had recommended him because she was trying to protect the Earth and its civilization, and his life had almost reached its end—had she not arrived in time, he would be dead. In a way, she had saved him!

She had done nothing that she ought to be ashamed of, nothing that should trouble her conscience.

But she also understood that this was how someone could sell their mother to a whorehouse.

Cheng Xin thought about hibernation. The technology was mature enough that some people—mostly terminally ill patients seeking a cure in the future—had already entered the long sleep. Tianming had a chance. Given his social status, it would be hard for him to afford hibernation, but she could help him. It was a possibility, an opportunity that she had taken from him.

The next day, Cheng Xin went to see Wade.

As usual, Wade stared at his lit cigar in his office. She rarely saw him perform the tasks that she associated with conventional administration: making phone calls, reading documents, attending meetings, and so forth. She didn’t know when, if ever, Wade did these things. All she could see was him sitting, deep in thought, always deep in thought.

Cheng Xin explained that she thought Candidate #5 was unsuitable. She wanted to withdraw her recommendation and ask that the man be removed from consideration.

“Why? He has scored the best in our tests.”

Wade’s comment stunned Cheng Xin and chilled her heart. One of the first tests they conducted was to put each candidate under a special form of general anesthesia that caused the person to lose feeling in all parts of the body and sensory organs but remain conscious. The experience was intended to simulate the conditions of a brain existing independent of the body. Then the examiners assessed the candidate’s psychological ability to adapt to alien conditions. Of course, since the test designers knew nothing about conditions within the Trisolaran Fleet, they had to fill out their simulation with guesses. Overall, the test was quite harsh.

“But he has only an undergraduate degree,” Cheng Xin said.

“You certainly have more degrees,” said Wade. “But if we used your brain for this mission, it would, without a doubt, be one of the worst brains we could have chosen.”

“He’s a loner! I’ve never seen anyone so withdrawn. He doesn’t have any ability to adjust and adapt to the conditions around him.”

“That is precisely Candidate #5’s best quality! You’re talking about human society. Someone who feels comfortable with this environment has also learned to rely on it. Once one is cut off from the rest of humanity and finds oneself in a strange environment, one is very likely to suffer a fatal breakdown. You’re a perfect example of what I’m talking about.”

Cheng Xin had to admit that Wade’s logic was sound. She probably would suffer a breakdown from the simulation alone.

She certainly knew that she had no clout to get the top administrator of the PIA to give up on a candidate for the Staircase Program. But she didn’t want to give up. She steeled herself. She would say whatever was necessary to save Tianming.

“He’s made no meaningful attachments in life. He has no sense of responsibility to humanity, or love.” After saying this, Cheng Xin wondered if there was some truth to it.

“Oh, there is definitely something on Earth he’s attached to.”

Wade’s gaze remained on the cigar, but Cheng Xin could feel his attention being deflected from the cigar’s lit tip onto her, carrying with it some of the flame’s heat. To her relief, Wade abruptly changed the subject.

“Another excellent quality of Candidate #5 is his creativity. This makes up for his lack of technical knowledge. Did you know that an idea of his made one of your classmates into a billionaire?”

Cheng Xin had indeed seen this in Tianming’s background file—so she did know someone really rich, after all. But she didn’t believe for a minute that Hu Wen was the one who had given her the star. The very idea was ridiculous. If he liked her, he would buy her a fancy car or a diamond necklace, not a star.

“I had thought none of the candidates were anywhere near being suitable, and I was running out of ideas. But you’ve reaffirmed my faith in #5. Thank you.”