by Cixin Liu
Bai Bing, Chen Xufeng, and Lu Wenming looked uncomprehendingly at the Senior Official.
“If we can accurately predict the future, we can change the present and control the course the future will take. We’d control everything—young man, don’t you think this is possible? Perhaps, together, we can shoulder the great duty of shaping the history to come.”
Bai Bing realized what he was saying and gave a pained smile, shaking his head. He stood and walked over to the computer. He clicked and dragged the time slider bar, extending its length beyond Now into the future. Then he said to the Senior Official, “Try it for yourself.”
INFINITE RECURSION
The Senior Official leapt toward the computer, quicker than anyone had ever seen him move, bringing to mind the dark image of a hungry eagle spotting a baby chick on the ground. He moved the mouse with practiced motions, sliding the time past the Now. In the instant that the slider entered the future, an error window popped up.
Stack Overflow
Bai Bing took the mouse from the Senior Official’s hand. “Let’s run a debugging program and trace that step by step.”
The simulation software returned to the state it had been in before the error and began to run line by line. When the real Bai Bing moved the slider past the present, the simulation Bai Bing in the digital mirror did the same. The debugging program immediately zoomed in on the digital mirror’s superstring computer display, allowing them to see that, on the simulated screen, the simulated simulated Bai Bing two layers down was also moving the slider past the present. Then the debugging program zoomed in on the superstring computer display in the third layer.… In this way the debugger progressed layer after layer deeper, each layer’s Bai Bing in the process of moving the slider past the present time, an infinite Droste image.
“This is recursion, a programming approach where a piece of code calls itself. Under normal circumstances, it finds its answer a finite number of layers down, after which the answer follows the chain of calls back to the surface. But here we see a function calling itself without end, forever unable to find an answer, in infinite recursion. Because it needs to store resources used by the previous layer on the stack at every call, it created the stack overflow we saw earlier. With infinite recursion, even a superstring computer’s ultimate capacity can be used up.”
“Ah.” The Senior Official nodded.
“As a result, even though the course of the universe was decided at the big bang, we still can’t know the future. For people who hate the determinist idea that everything comes from a chain of cause and effect, this probably provides some consolation.”
“Ah…” The Senior Official nodded again. He dragged out the sound for a long, long time.
THE AGE OF THE MIRROR
Bai Bing discovered that a strange change had overcome the Senior Official, as if something had been sucked out of him. His whole body seemed to be withering, swaying as if it had lost the strength to keep itself upright. His face was pale, his breathing rapid. He put both hands on the chair’s arms and lowered himself into the seat, the movement difficult and painstaking, as if he were afraid his bones would snap.
“Young man, you have destroyed my life’s work,” the Senior Official said eventually. “You win.”
Bai Bing looked at Chen Xufeng and Lu Wenming, finding that they were at a loss like himself. But Song Cheng stood straight-backed and unafraid among them, his face alight with victory.
Chen Xufeng slowly stood, drawing his gun from his trouser pocket.
“Stop,” said the Senior Official, not loudly, but with unsurpassed authority in his voice. The gun in Chen Xufeng’s hand stilled in midair. “Put the gun down,” the Senior Official commanded, but Chen didn’t move.
“Sir, at this stage, we have to act decisively. We can explain away their deaths, shot and killed while resisting arrest and attempting escape—”
“Put the gun down, you mad dog!” the Senior Official roared.
The hand holding the gun fell to Chen Xufeng’s side. He slowly turned toward the Senior Official. “I’m no mad dog. I’m a loyal dog, a dog who understands gratitude! A dog who will never betray you, sir! You can trust someone like me, who’s crawled step by step up from the bottom, to know right and wrong like a good dog toward the superior who made him into who he is today. I don’t think the slick thoughts of intelligentsia.”
“What are you trying to say?” Lu Wenming, who had long been silent, got to his feet.
“Everyone knows what I mean. I’m not like some people, taking a step only after making sure there’s two or three steps of retreat open. Where’s my road out? At a time like this, if I don’t protect myself, who will do it for me?!”
Bai Bing said calmly, “It’s useless to kill me. That’s the fastest way to expose the digital mirror technology to the public.”
“Even an idiot would have realized he’d take precautionary measures. You’ve really lost all reason,” Lu Wenming said quietly to Chen Xufeng.
Chen Xufeng said, “Of course I know the bastard wouldn’t be that stupid, but we have our own technological resources. If we put in everything we have, we might be able to completely wipe out the digital mirror technology.”
Bai Bing shook his head. “That’s impossible. Chief Chen, this is the era of the internet. Concealing and distributing information is easy, and I have the defender’s advantage. You can’t beat me at my game, not even if you put in your best tech experts. I could tell you where I’ve hidden the digital mirror software backups and how I plan to release them after my death, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing. The initialization parameters are even easier to hide and distribute. Forget about that idea.”
Chen Xufeng slowly put the gun back into his pocket and sat down.
“You think you’re already standing on the summit of history, yes?” the Senior Official said tiredly to Song Cheng.
“Justice stands on the summit of history,” Song Cheng said solemnly.
“Indeed, the digital mirror has destroyed us all. But its power to destroy far exceeds this.”
“Yes, it will destroy all evil.”
The Senior Official nodded slowly.
“Then it will destroy all the corruption and immorality that comes short of evil.”
The Senior Official nodded again. “In the end, it will destroy all of human civilization.”
His words made the others take pause. Song Cheng said, “Human civilization has never beheld such a bright future. This battle between good and evil will wash away all its grime.”
“And then?” the Senior Official asked softly.
“And then, the great age of the mirror will arrive. All of humanity will face a mirror in which every action can be perfectly seen and no crime can be hidden. Every sinner will inevitably meet their judgment. It will be an era without darkness, where the sun shines into every crevice. Human society will become as pure as crystal.”
“In other words, society will be dead,” the Senior Official said. He raised his head to look Song Cheng in the eyes.
“Care to explain?” Song Cheng said, with the mocking note of a victor looking at a loser.
“Imagine if DNA never made mistakes, always replicating and inheriting with perfect fidelity. What would life on Earth become?”
While Song Cheng considered this, Bai Bing answered for him. “In that case, life would no longer exist on Earth. The basis of the evolution of life is mutation, caused by mistakes in DNA.”
The Senior Official nodded at Bai Bing. “Society is the same way. Its evolution and vitality is rooted in the myriad urges and desires departing from the morality laid out by the majority. A fish can’t live in perfectly clear water. A society where no one ever makes mistakes in ethics is, in reality, dead.”
“Your attempt to defend your crimes is laughable,” Song Cheng said contemptuously.
“Not completely,” Bai Bing said immediately, surprising the others. He hesitated for a few seconds, as if to steel his resolve. �
�To be honest, there was another reason I didn’t want to make the mirror simulation software public. I … I don’t much like the idea of a world armed with the digital mirror either.”
“Are you afraid of the light like them?” Song Cheng demanded.
“I’m an ordinary guy. I’m not involved in any shady business, but there are different kinds of the light you’re talking about. If someone beams a searchlight through your bedroom window in the middle of the night, that’s called light pollution.… I’ll give an example. I’ve only been married two years, but I’ve already experienced that … wearying of the aesthetics, so to speak. So I got … uh, involved with a coworker. My wife doesn’t know, of course. Everyone’s lives are good—better this way even I suspect. I wouldn’t be able to live this kind of life in the age of the mirror.”
“It’s an immoral and irresponsible life to begin with!” Song Cheng said, anger entering his voice.
“But doesn’t everyone live like that? Who doesn’t have some sort of secret? If you want to be happy these days, sometimes, you have to bend a little. How many people can be shining spotless saints like you? If the digital mirror makes everyone into perfect people who can’t take a step out of line, then—then what’s even fucking left?”
The Senior Official laughed, and even Lu and Chen, who’d been grim-faced all this time, cracked a smile. The Senior Official patted Bai Bing on the shoulder. “Young man, your argument might not be particularly high-minded, but you’ve thought far deeper than our scholar over here.” He turned toward Song Cheng as he spoke. “There’s no way we can extricate ourselves now, so you can put aside your hatred and thirst for vengeance toward us. As one so well-learned on the subject of social philosophy, surely you’re not so shallow-minded as to think that history is made from virtue and justice?”
The Senior Official’s words were a potent tranquilizer for Song Cheng. He recovered from the fever of victory. “My duty is to punish the evil, protect the virtuous, and uphold justice,” he said after a moment of hesitation, his tone much calmer.
The Senior Official nodded, satisfied. “You didn’t give a straight answer. Very good, it shows that you’re not quite that narrow-minded yet.”
Here, the Senior Official suddenly shuddered all over, as if someone had dumped cold water over him. He broke out of his daze. The weakness was gone; whatever vitality had deserted him earlier seemed to have returned. He stood, gravely buttoned his collar, and meticulously smoothed the wrinkles from his clothes. Then he said with utmost solemnity to Lu Wenming and Chen Xufeng, “Comrades, from now on, everything can be seen in the digital mirror. Please take care with your behavior and image.”
Lu Wenming stood, his expression heavy. He attended to his appearance as the Senior Official had, then gave a long sigh. “Yes, from now on, Heaven watches from above.”
Chen Xufeng stood unmoving with his head hanging.
The Senior Official looked at everyone in turn. “Very well, I’ll be leaving now. I have a busy day at work tomorrow.” He turned toward Bai Bing. “Young man, come to my office tomorrow at six in the evening. Bring the superstring computer.” Then he turned toward Chen and Lu. “As for you two, do your best. Xufeng, keep your chin up. We may have committed sins beyond pardon, but we don’t need to feel so ashamed. Compared to them,” he pointed to Song Cheng and Bai Bing, “what we’ve done really doesn’t amount to much.”
He opened the door and left with his head held high.
BIRTHDAY
The next day really was a busy day for the Senior Official.
As soon as he entered the office, he summoned key officials in charge of industry, agriculture, finance, environmental protection, and more, one by one, to debrief them on their next orders of business. Though each meeting was short, the Senior Official drew on his ample experience to zero in on important aspects of the work and problems requiring attention. With his well-honed conversational skills, too, each official left thinking that this was only another typical work debriefing. They noticed nothing unusual.
At ten thirty in the morning, after sending away the last official, the Senior Official settled down to document his views on the province’s economic development, and problems he foresaw with large- and medium-scale province-owned enterprises. The compilation wasn’t long, less than two thousand characters, but it distilled decades of reflection and work experience. Anyone familiar with the Senior Official’s philosophies would be astonished reading this document—it differed considerably from his previous views. In his long years at the apex of power, this was the first time he expressed views unadulterated by personal considerations, solely coming from concern for the Party and the country’s best interests.
It was past noon by the time the Senior Official finished writing. He didn’t eat, only drank a cup of tea, and continued work.
The first indication of the age of the mirror occurred then. The Senior Official was informed that Chen Xufeng had shot himself in his office; meanwhile, Lu Wenming seemed to be in a trance, compulsively reaching for his collar button and straightening his clothes, as if someone could be snapping a picture of him at any instant. The Senior Official met the two pieces of news with only a smile.
The age of the mirror had not yet arrived, but the darkness was already breaking.
The Senior Official ordered the Anti-Corruption Bureau to immediately assemble a task force; with the cooperation of the police and the related Departments of Finance and Commerce, they were to immediately seize all records and accounts belonging to his son’s Daxi Trade and Commerce Group and his daughter-in-law’s Beiyuan Corporation, and contain the legal entities according to the law. He took care of his other relatives’ and cronies’ various financial bodies in the same manner.
At four thirty, the Senior Official began to draft a list of names. He knew that, upon the arrival of the age of the mirror, thousands of officials at or above the county rank throughout the province would be sacked. The immediate concern was to seek suitable successors for key roles within each organization, and the list, meant for the provincial and central leadership, presented his suggestions. In reality, this list had existed in his mind long before the appearance of the digital mirror. These were the people he’d planned to eliminate, supplant, and retaliate against.
It was already five thirty, time to leave work. He felt a gratification he had never experienced before: he had spent at least today as a human being.
Song Cheng entered the office, and the Senior Official handed him a thick stack of documents. “This is the evidence you obtained on me. You should report to the Central Commission as soon as possible. I wrote a confession last night complete with supporting evidence and added them here. Aside from looking through and checking the results of your investigations, I also supplemented some material to fill in the gaps.”
Song Cheng accepted the documents, nodding solemnly. He didn’t say anything.
“In a moment, Bai Bing will arrive with the superstring computer. You should tell him that you’re about to inform your superiors of the digital mirror software. The central officials, after considering the matter from all directions, will use it conservatively to begin with. He should therefore make sure the software doesn’t leak to the public beforehand. That would pose serious dangers and adverse effects. Therefore, you will have him delete all the backup copies, whether online or elsewhere, that he made to protect himself. As for the initialization parameters, if he told them to anyone else, have him make a list of names. He trusts you. He’ll do as you say. You must make sure all the backups are gone.”
“We already plan to,” said Song Cheng.
“Then,” the Senior Official looked Song Cheng in the eye, “kill him, and destroy his superstring computer. At this point, you can hardly think I’m plotting for my own sake.”
Once Song Cheng recovered from his surprise, he shook his head, smiling.
The Senior Official smiled, too. “Very well, I’ve said everything I have to say. Whatever happens next has not
hing to do with me. The mirror has recorded these words of mine; perhaps one day, in the distant future, someone will listen.”
The Senior Official waved away Song Cheng, then leaned against the back of the chair. He exhaled, slowly, subsumed in a sense of relief and release.
* * *
After Song Cheng left, the clock struck six. Bai Bing entered the office on the dot, carrying the briefcase that contained the digital mirror of history and reality.
The Senior Official invited him to sit. Looking at the superstring computer resting on the table, he said, “Young man, I have something to ask of you: May I see my own life in the digital mirror?”
“Of course you can, no problem!” Bai Bing said, opening the briefcase and booting up the computer. He opened the digital mirror software, then set the time to the present and the location to the office. The two occupants appeared in real time on the screen. Bai Bing selected the Senior Official, right-clicked, and activated the tracking capability.
The image onscreen began to change rapidly, so rapidly that the whole image window filled with a blur. But the Senior Official, as the subject of the search, remained in the middle of the screen the entire time, steady like the center of the world. He was flickering rapidly, too, but the figure was discernibly becoming younger. “This is a reverse chronology tracking search. The image recognition software can’t use your current form to identify younger versions of you, so it has to track you step by step through your age-related changes to find the beginning.”
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.
