“Let him go!”

  A woman’s voice came from the direction of the factory gate. “Let him go, now!”

  K struggled to raise his head to see who had come to save him. He thought he would see A Xu or Diana. His eyes instead landed on a bright red dress and his heart filled with fear. Step by step, the woman’s face came into focus. It was the PDO woman he had thrown the beer at the night before.

  “Let him go.” The woman took something out of the pocket of the red leather coat and showed it to the driver. The driver looked at it and released his hands from K’s neck.

  “Fuck,” the driver cursed. “You’re one bad egg. Even the police are after you.”

  “You can leave now,” the woman said.

  “Fuck you,” the driver spat on the ground next to K, then returned to his car. “This fare should be your funeral fee. Hope you’re sentenced soon, so you can hurry up and die.”

  K struggled to rise. Wobbling on his feet, he was swallowed by the smoke and dust from the driver’s car. Dirt burned his eyes. His already blurred vision sunk into blindness. He stumbled a few steps backward, bumping into the woman.

  K dropped back to the ground in panic. His legs were numb and unwieldy.

  “There’s no need to run. I didn’t come here to catch you.” The woman stretched out a hand and helped lift K’s rickety body. “I wasn’t after you last night either. I was after the girl.”

  “A Xu?” K shook off the woman’s hand. “What did you do to her? You should’ve been after me!”

  “I’ve already caught her. She and her gang are suspected of stealing 367 thousand in PDO compensation under your name.”

  Soon, K again found himself seated at the long table at the heart of the factory. Once littered with documents and computers, it was now empty. Policemen in uniform were carrying away boxes of various sizes. He saw two cops struggling with the operating table where he had lain for his IV.

  Seeing K and the woman at the table, one of the cops grinned. “Hey Mandy, this the same upstart who invited you out for a beer last night?” His partner puffed his cheeks and defensively waved his arms as though he feared K might throw a beer at him too. The woman, Mandy, ignored their ridicule. She motioned for them to leave and they shuffled out still chuckling.

  K and Mandy seemed to be alone in the vast factory. She took a deep breath and looked at K. Sitting in the familiar chair, K’s face was expressionless, eyes clouded. If it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of his chest, Mandy wouldn’t have known if K were still alive.

  “You’re not their first victim. They are suspected of stealing close to six million. They always target PDO applicants to steal their compensation. Lisbon, Los Angeles, Osaka, Hong Kong . . . and now here. One big scam at each destination. We’ve been tracking them for some time.”

  “So it was all just a trick?” K asked weakly.

  He spoke as though he didn’t really care about the answer, but she still nodded.

  “Conning a desperate upstart out of compensation used to be easy. Just tell them there’s a surgery that will reverse the PDO Compound with an organ transplant, cryogenics, or whatnot. I’m sure you’ve heard such tales.” Mandy simpered. “Now, applicants have wised up. They don’t fall for those tricks anymore. So, the conmen have developed more advanced methods, like the people who conned you. Usually, they’ll send over a person to be friends with the applicant first, take care of all their needs, then introduce their little family. Usually, it was the wife who did the trick.”

  “Wife?”

  “You would have seen the woman, the one on the most-wanted list, the former mistress of the drug lord of the old Dirt District. When the Dirt District collapsed, she disappeared but eventually surfaced as part of this gang of swindlers. Typically, after the so-called pharmacist disappeared, she would find the victim, plead for help, open the pharmacist’s apartment, find clues in his email, and so on. More than a few victims confessed she also seduced them.”

  “Diana . . . ”

  “Of course, that’s not her real name.”

  “But the one Zhang Heng most often mentioned was . . . A Xu.” When he spoke her name A Xu, K raised his head to look at Mandy. “A Xu was his daughter.”

  “We believe this is the first time they used her this way. I guess they decided it was time to change scripts. In the testimony of previous victims, the girl you mentioned played the role of the young nurse giving the injection.”

  “A Xu . . . ” in K’s mind, a bright red, familiar red suddenly appeared. It gradually took shape, becoming A Xu’s lips, Diana’s lips. “They have . . . the same red.”

  “Their division of labor is clear. The neighbor creates the foundation of friendship. The wife threads the needle. The thug triggers the mark’s anger and guilt. Then, the nurse provides comfort, makes the mark believe the PDO is their mortal enemy. She gives the mark that sense of mission. The hacker then obtains all authorization to implement the real theft. The leader is the old man, the one who inspires a sense of justice. Eight hours later, when the money lands, they all disappear into thin air.”

  “But I watched the PDO take Zhang Heng away . . . ”

  “If you had watched more closely, you would have seen it was just them dressed up in PDO uniforms shouting outside your door. They do that to ensure you witness the scene.”

  “They . . . Weren’t they afraid I might actually open the door?”

  “Mr. Li, they have thoroughly studied the psychology of you upstarts.” Mandy took a deep breath. “They are certain you will not open the door.”

  “All . . . all of it was fake?”

  “Your friend, the antibodies, the rescue plans . . . all part of the scam. Victims feel stimulated for several hours after the supposed antibody injection. They believe they have escaped the pain. But it’s just a drug. But this time it seems the injection wasn’t prepared correctly due to the change in roles, so there were excess drugs in your body that made your reaction last night more intense. It was probably highly destructive to your body. I think the girl also noticed.”

  “Those drugs . . . They were made by A Xu?”

  “Yes, we believe she’s the one in charge of preparing the drugs. That girl is the only actual scientist in the group. She is proficient in chemistry, astronomy, physics . . . According to our research, it seems she went astray at a young age after her parents died.”

  “A Xu . . . Both parents died . . . ”

  “Their scam has several flaws, so they wait until the victim reaches the Compound Reaction Period, typically the second phase. By this time, the victim’s consciousness has experienced the devastation of various Reaction-related diseases, but they still have the ability to act. At the same time, they are at their most desperate for the promised antibodies, and . . . ”

  “And what?”

  “The victim usually enjoys the process of being cheated, Mr. Li.” Mandy looked at K’s dark, empty eyes. That kind of emptiness she was very familiar with. She couldn’t remember how many times she had looked at such eyes. “Helping friends, gaining new life, fighting evil, saving the world. One dream after another . . . ”

  K’s head drooped.

  Mandy paused. She seemed used to such reactions. “What is strange, however, is that this time they didn’t give you the anesthesia.”

  “Anesthesia?”

  “The transfer of assets takes eight hours. To prevent any unexpected mishaps, they find a reason for a second injection, this time to make you unconscious. Only this time—I don’t know why—they instead took you into the city.”

  “Yes . . . I proposed it. I needed to take A Xu somewhere.”

  Mandy glared suspiciously at K. What made her more confused was the sparkle in K’s previously gray eyes. “And they actually agreed?”

  “They all opposed. But A Xu convinced them. She said she would go with me.”

  “That was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you had let me rescue you at the restaurant, maybe we could have recovered your losses.”

  K took a deep breath, and his body trembled. He raised a hand to his chest, felt the familiar rhythm of his heart, still beating. He mustered a smile for Mandy. “No, I would have lost something more.”

  “It seems you had a good time last night.” Mandy rose from her seat. “I’ll take you back. I wanted you to assist further in the investigation, but you’ve earned your rest. And you provided an important clue as to how they’re adjusting their division of labor.”

  “That . . . No.”

  “What?”

  “That girl. She won’t be playing the role of the daughter anymore.”

  “How—”

  “She told me personally,” K raised his head and his eyes met Mandy’s. The red curve of her coat reminded him of the story he and A Xu had watched, the arc of the spacecraft returning home. “She said she would never do it again.”

  : Hello?

  : Hi, is this Miss Edi?

  : And you are?

  : Hello, Miss Edi, this is the customer service center at Space Park.

  : Space Park? Is that the exhibition thing in the rich area?

  : Yes, Miss Edi, we have your reservation here for two VIP Deluxe Packages, including pick-up service in your city, night camping, and an on-site buffet. This call is to confirm the agenda for you and your mother. We are happy to arrange your pick-up vehicle and fast-pass certificate at your convenience. Also, your tickets include a private booking of the night sky exhibition, Crossing the Rings of Saturn, so I have to confirm with you in advance—

  : Wait! Wait! I ordered this?

  : Yes . . . It says here you made the reservation six hours ago.

  : But I thought upstarts were prohibited from buying tickets to the Space Park or anything else in Caesar . . .

  : Miss Edi, we have received a paid reservation signed for you. If you have any questions about the reservation or would like to refund your ticket—

  : Damn, who’s pranking me? Who paid for this?

  : Just a moment, Miss Edi, allow me to check for—

  : Don’t tell me. It was probably one of those jerks from the bar.

  : Hello, Miss Edi, the payment account is . . . K Li, Mr. Li.

  : K Li? Mom! Mom, come here. Do you know anyone named K Li?

  : Miss Edi, please wait a moment. There may be an issue. It says here the genetic account was . . . canceled three weeks ago. This may be due to a system error, but the reservation is good. Do you have any other questions about the reservation? Miss Edi? Are you still there?

  Originally published in Chinese in Nebula XI (Science Fiction World, August 2021).

  Translated and published in cooperation with Science Fiction World.

  About the Author

  Lu Ban built a following in China with his 2020 debut novel Futuritis, currently under development by Ronghuan Films. In 2021, he published “Upstart” and won the the 2021 China SF Galaxy Award for Best New Writer. His work explores relationships between technology and systems of control.

  Left to Die

  Vandana Singh

  They had left her to die. Binu had realized that too late. At the time she thought she was only being pragmatic, and perhaps a bit noble. “Leave me, I’ll be all right,” she had rasped, gritting her teeth against the pain, looking into Niko’s eyes as he bent over her. Her mouth had tasted the salt of blood. Niko had gotten up, shaking his head at her. As the wave of pain subsided, she had seen them look at each other, Niko and Sheela, the loves of her life; it was a look that said volumes, and all at once she had known. They looked at her again, and in the light from her headlamp, their eyes behind the visors of their cheloplasteen suits were the eyes of strangers. Sheela bent down and tucked the sheet over her carefully. She wants to cover my face, Binu thought wildly.

  “We’ll come back for you, soon as we can,” Niko said, his voice thick, and she knew he regretted leaving her to die, but not enough, and that he was ashamed of lying. The glow in the sky that indicated the arrival of the emergency lander over to the west gave them excuse enough to hurry. But she knew that they did not intend to return for her until she was dead.

  A desperate cry sounded from her throat—it startled her to hear in her voice the sound of a wounded animal. But they were already gone, and there would be no chance for explanations, for pleading, for asking “why have you abandoned me?” The ugly word “murder” she pushed out of her mind. Lying on the uneven ground; she shifted a little and gasped with pain. The pain subsided, and she breathed more easily. The malfunctioning cheloplasteen suit had partially sealed the long cut in her back but it still hurt every time she moved. They had put the sheet under her when she refused the shelter of the tent, which they had collapsed and laid to one side; she was slightly claustrophobic at the best of times. At this moment a small stone or twig was pushing into her back, and for some reason, this was becoming a source of extreme annoyance. Death should be either very quick or reasonably comfortable, she thought. Breathe, breathe. How many breaths left? A part of her mind started counting—she shut it up, and instead looked at the great mother planet Laalmukh, striped red and orange, hanging from the night sky like an enormous, pregnant belly.

  Through the crack in her visor, she was breathing the unfiltered air of the alien moon. The air smelled like rotting, oversweet fruit, punctuated with tendrils of unfamiliar aromas for which her body had no measure. The tree-like creatures around her were sessile animals, reportedly harmless; hard for an Earthling not to think of them as trees. The orange glow from the planet and the flickering phosphorescence of the tree trunks created a phantasmagoric light show, and all around her, the alien forest whispered, muttered, cackled, and hummed.

  She was in a dream, except this dream was real . . . who would have thought that she, Binu, mining engineer and explorer of habitable worlds, was to die on an alien moon circling a gas giant seventeen light years from home? The electromagnetic disturbances created by the two large storms on the mother planet were roughly periodic, and they had taken every precaution that seven years of training for Zebos Galactic had drilled into them. The orbiting ship had its emergency rescue lander on standby, the exploration crew had landed during the EM minimum, and there were emergency flares if communication failed. And yet, communication had failed—the magnetosphere had extended a long finger toward them, frying Binu’s suit, and severely damaging those of the other two. That had been . . . when? Three days, according to standard Earth measures, or a lifetime ago, when she had been another person, confident, experienced, laughing Binu with her two lovers striding beside her, eager to explore Laalmukh’s largest moon for a prospective mining station.

  For three days they had been stranded in the forest clearing, without any way to communicate with the ship until it rose over the horizon. Today the orbiting ship would have edged into range for contact. The next EM maximum was expected to occur in sixteen days or so, but there was a narrow window for rescue because Binu’s injuries meant that her suit’s life-support capabilities were strained to the utmost—once the suit died, she, too, would die without emergency help. The air was breathable, but the EM pulse had messed with her implants despite their vaunted defenses, and three vital organs were limping along on their own. She would be lucky to last an hour after the suit died. Since the comm breakdown, they were unable to speak to each other through their suits unless they pressed their helmets together and raised their voices, except for Binu, whose visor had cracked. Staying in the clearing for three days had tried them; the forest was filled with apparitions, ghostly murmurings, and flutterings at the edge of hearing and sight. It was well known that rapidly changing magnetic fields could, in certain frequency ranges, produce hallucinations; so could the brain when death was nigh. So Binu tried to keep at bay the images that intruded on her field of vision as she passed from wakefulness to sleep to a semi-comatose stupor.

  Arising into blurry wakefulness, she became conscious of someone bending over her—a woman, copper ear-rings dangling. Gradually, her features became clearer: long silver-and-black hair, mouth curved in the warm, familiar smile. Binu could see the light show from the alien tree beings through the woman’s body. A ghost, a hallucination, then. Or maybe this was death. But all attempts at rationalization were overcome by a great wave of longing. Tears flooded her eyes.

  “Mamma?”

  The ghost nodded. Binu let out breath in a ragged sigh. She remembered her mother’s last words, two decades ago. Never forget, love leaps every abyss, even death.

  “Wake up, Binu,” her mother said. For much of Binu’s early life, the day had broken with her mother waking her up. Reluctantly Binu would rise from the bed, grumbling, while her mother laughed gently at her.

  “Wake up,” said the apparition again, insistently.

  “Am I dead?”

  “That’s irrelevant,” the woman said urgently. “Don’t you see you have to wake up? Get out of those clothes. Quickly, you’ll be late.”

  Delusion or not, Binu felt compelled to obey. She rolled onto one side and pressed two fingers along the emergency seal of the suit. With some effort she unpeeled it from her body, breaking the fine, neural fibers that threaded through her clothing to her skin, and lay gasping with the effort. She was dressed only in her light cotton body-length underwear. Her mother had vanished.

  The rotten-fruit aroma was stronger, now, and mingled with other odors, some like hot metal, others subtle, indescribable: harsingar and samosas, she thought wildly. Tendrils of cool air caressed her skin. Well, if she had to die, might as well do so like a human being. Actually, it felt a little better to be out of the suit. Her rocking back and forth to get out of it had shifted her away from the stone or whatever it was that had been pressing into her back. And between waves of pain, she felt quite lucid and alert.

  The suit’s life support panel stated: failure in seven minutes. By taking off her suit, she had cut short her survival time—an hour or so? by seven minutes, because her implants wouldn’t work without the integrative capabilities of the suit. In the orbiting spaceship, she had spent four months gradually diverting the implant neurals from her control belt to the suit, because the suit was supposed to function a lot better than the control belt, and was apparently indestructible as well, able to resist high-intensity EMPs. So much for that.

 

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