Chapter Nineteen: The Wish of Death

Section Nineteen
August 16, 1993, 11:10 a.m.
Forty kilometers west of the rendezvous point, on the edge of Grizzly City

Zhou Yingxiong paged through the notebook of plans left by Wang Luo.

Barely more than a day had passed in this space, yet to Zhou, it felt like a year. It was as if he had never lived in a safe, mundane world; as if he had never endured such prolonged oppression and humiliation. He recalled, at the bank, firing his pistol and possibly hitting someone; at the television station, brandishing the weapon and threatening a crowd into stillness.

Last night, he had eaten heartily, devouring a large meal. After returning to his bedroom, he closed his eyes and fell asleep at once. It was as if he hadn’t done anything dangerous, only gone to work as usual.

At the company, he followed orders from his superiors; now, Wang Luo was constantly assigning him this or that, and he executed every instruction—mental suffering had never delayed his ability to work, even if that ability was only average.

After completing the third round of recordings, he made notes in the notebook:

"First recording: Wang. Invalid."
"Second recording: Zhou. Total length 2 minutes 15 seconds, 1 minute 2 seconds valid."
"Third recording: Zhou. Total length 2 minutes 15 seconds, 38 seconds valid."
"Fourth recording: Zhou. Total length 2 minutes 14 seconds, 1 minute 50 seconds valid."

He checked Wang Luo’s plan again, had the woman do six more recordings, and then calculated an average.

Ten recordings in total, with lengths between 2 minutes 10 seconds and 2 minutes 18 seconds, and an average of about 1 minute 2 seconds of valid audio. The remainder consisted of tape distortion noises, but the tapes themselves remained intact—re-recording produced valid audio again.

Hypothesis: Sound can penetrate the boundary, but part of it is blocked.

As he was conducting this test, the young boy returned.

"Sir, these are leaves from over there. I also carved a cross on the tree," the boy said.

"Just put them there," Zhou replied, finding the boy’s own notebook. "All right… now go to Laval and buy ten batteries for the recorder and ten blank tapes. Here’s two hundred dollars; you’ll get the remaining two hundred when you get back."

"Yes, sir!" The boy took the money with delight and ran off.

Hypothesis: Data insufficient for a conclusion at this time.

The next test for the adult woman was to read a novel aloud—within the boundary.

But Zhou couldn’t find the reading material in the entire plan, so he searched in the car, finally discovering several documents under Wang Luo’s seat.

These will do.

"Afterwards, the virus spread. In White Bird City, the entire population turned to zombies, exuding the stench of decay, lurching forward in search of remaining life. What form of life are they now? How long could they survive without food? Would one zombie devour another? Do they still possess a sense of taste? Which tastes better to them—living flesh or their own kind?"

Most of what followed was tied to the original plot of the biohazard scenario. Zhou paid it little mind, simply handing Wang Luo’s documents to the woman for her to read aloud.

Record: Subject read the novel’s content without any issues.

"Our world may be the manifestation of a person’s imagination. Everything in life may be predestined. If that’s true, what must I do to escape this predicament?"

"This powerful presence, perhaps, can control my body. Suppose he could move me to another space; suppose he could arrange an elaborate story there for me to participate in; suppose he actually did so—what would he gain?"

"Pleasure? The joy of a game? Like playing ‘Sim Life’ or the ‘Civilization’ series? If so, then the controller’s power is limited—and perhaps not unique."

"Let’s stop here for now," Zhou recalled the line dividing the document. "Take a break, have something to eat."

"Thank you, sir." The female subject accepted the bread and water Zhou handed her, walked aside, eating as she continued to look through Wang Luo’s files.

"If there is a controller of all this, what sort of being is he?"

"If there is a controller, what are his weaknesses?"

"If there is a controller, by what means can his true nature be revealed?"

She sipped water and, almost absentmindedly, read these words aloud from the document.

Bang!

The instant she finished reading, her entire body twisted, and in a burst, became a cloud of blood.

Zhou started in terror and rushed over.

But there was nothing more he could do. Where she had just sat, her clothes, bread, water, and Wang Luo’s documents remained. The person herself, who had been alive moments before, was simply gone.

He stared at the pool of blood on the ground, his hands trembling, his stomach churning. At last, unable to bear it, he staggered aside and vomited.

A long time passed before he regained his composure and returned to his seat. After some hesitation, he made a note:

The subject died instantly, apparently by explosion, upon reciting a passage that omitted the word “suppose” and mentioned a “controller.” The cause is unknown.

After a moment’s thought, he added:

"Cannot determine if this can be weaponized."

Then Zhou sat in silence for a long time.

I shouldn’t have made her read that. Her death is on my hands.

But why did she die? Just from reading those words? Wang Luo wrote them—why didn’t he die? If this content were broadcast at the TV station, and many people read it, would they all die too?

It defies logic, it’s unreasonable, it shouldn’t be.

So, should I test it again?

The thought filled him with pain the moment it surfaced. After all, inadvertently causing someone’s death by accident was one thing; deliberately killing, knowing the danger, was quite another.

He had seen Zhu Cunjia and Yang Wentian kill people at the bank as well, but always at a distance and in the heat of battle. He could follow orders and treat firing a gun as a job (if it killed someone, so be it). But to acknowledge that he was intentionally taking a life, and then carry it out—he simply couldn’t do it.

But if not others, then himself.

Yes, Wang Luo wanted these experiments finished. He had helped Zhou greatly, and Zhou ought to repay him. They were all so competent; he wanted to stand alongside them. Yet he was of little use.

He couldn’t run fast, jump high, or react quickly—just average in every way. What could he do? Wave a gun around to scare people?

So be it. He had planned to die anyway. Being cut by a knife hurt, water was cold, but dying as she did seemed painless.

Guilt, inferiority, past suicidal thoughts, and a desire to prove himself—all these swirled together, prompting him toward a step that would surprise no one.

He climbed into the car and took down the video camera he’d intended to use that afternoon. He connected the power, inserted a tape, and turned it on.

Then he sat at the table before the camera and began his statement.

"A moment ago, a test subject exploded while reading the seventh page of the manuscript. Now, I will test the effect of reading that manuscript myself."

"Is this a fixed event or a random occurrence? What decisive factors were involved in her actions?"

"After reading, I might die. If I do, there must be something in these words that enables the space to kill the reader. That means it may be possible to use this widely, to attack enemies."

"If I die, to anyone watching this tape, please mourn me. My parents live at [address], their names are [name] and [name]; please tell them I died in an accident, and that my death had meaning. If it’s not too much trouble, please help take care of them."

At this point, tears streamed down his face. The resolve wavered, and his courage nearly failed.

But then, the image of his wife struggling beneath the dog flashed through his mind.

He shook his head and copied what he’d just said into the document as well.

A double assurance. Each word he wrote seemed to make his bones creak with strain. When he read it aloud, he pushed himself to the limit, his voice halting, choked with sobs, but he managed.

"A... controller like this... what weaknesses does he have... by what means... can his true nature... be revealed..."