Death's End

Cheng Xin hesitated outside the hospital. She didn’t dare enter, but she couldn’t bear to leave. All she could do was to suffer. Wade, who had come with her, walked ahead toward the hospital entrance alone. He stopped, turned around, and admired her pain. Then, satisfied, he delivered the final blow.

“Oh, I have another surprise for you: He gave you the star.”

Cheng Xin stood frozen. Everything seemed to transform around her. What she had seen before were mere shadows; only now did life’s true colors reveal themselves. The tidal wave of emotion made her stumble, as if the ground had disappeared.

She rushed into the hospital and dashed through the long, winding hallways until two guards outside the neurosurgery area stopped her. She struggled against them, but they held fast. She fumbled for her ID, waved it at them, and then continued her mad run toward the operating room. The crowd outside, surprised, parted for her. She slammed through the doors with glowing red lights over them.

She was too late.

A group of men and women in white coats turned around. The body had already been removed from the room. In the middle was a workbench, on top of which sat a cylindrical stainless steel insulating container, about a meter tall. It had just been sealed, and the white fog produced by the liquid helium still hadn’t completely dissipated. Slowly, the white fog rolled down the surface of the container, flowed across the workbench, cascaded over the edge like a miniature waterfall, and pooled on the floor, where it finally broke apart. In the fog, the container appeared otherworldly.

Cheng Xin threw herself at the workbench. Her motion broke up the white fog, and she felt herself enveloped in a pocket of cold air that dissipated in a moment. It was as if she had briefly touched what she was seeking before losing it to another time, another place, forever.

Prostrate in front of the container of liquid helium, Cheng Xin sobbed. Her sorrow filled the operating room, overflowed the hospital building, flooded New York City. Above her, the sorrow became a lake, then an ocean. At its bottom, she felt close to drowning.

She didn’t know how much time passed before she felt the hand placed against her shoulders. Maybe the hand had been there for a long time, and maybe the owner of the hand had been speaking for a long time, as well.

“There is hope.” It was the voice of an old man, gentle and slow. “There is hope.”

Still wracked by sobs, Cheng Xin could not catch her breath, but what the voice said next got her attention.

“Think! If they can revive that brain, what would be the ideal container for it?”

The voice did not offer empty platitudes, but a concrete idea.

She lifted her head, and through tear-blurred eyes, she recognized the white-haired old man: the world’s foremost brain surgeon, affiliated with Harvard Medical School. He had been the lead surgeon during the operation.

“It would be the body that had carried this brain in the first place. Every cell in the brain contains all the genetic information necessary to reconstruct his body. They could clone him and implant the brain, and in this way, he would be whole again.”

Cheng Xin stared at the stainless steel container. Tears rolled down her face, but she didn’t care. Then she recovered and stunned everyone: “What is he going to eat?”

She sprinted out of the room, in as much of a rush as when she had barged in.

—————

The next day, Cheng Xin returned to Wade’s office and deposited an envelope on his desk. She looked as pale as some terminally ill patients.

“I request that these seeds be included in the Staircase capsule.”

Wade opened the envelope and emptied its contents onto the desk: more than a dozen small packets. He ticked through them with interest: “Wheat, corn, potatoes, and these are… some vegetables, right? Hmmm, is this chili pepper?”

Cheng Xin nodded. “One of his favorites.”

Wade put all the packets back into the envelope and pushed it across the desk. “No.”

“Why? These weigh only eighteen grams in total.”

“We must make every effort to remove even point one eight grams of excess mass.”

“Just pretend his brain is eighteen grams heavier!”

“But it’s not, is it? Adding this weight would lead to a slower final cruising speed for the spacecraft, and delay the encounter with the Trisolaran Fleet by many years.” That cold smirk again appeared on Wade’s face. “Besides, he’s just a brain now—no mouth, no stomach. What would be the point? Don’t believe that fairy tale about cloning. They’ll just put the brain in a nice incubator and keep it alive.”

Cheng Xin wanted to rip the cigar out of Wade’s hand and put it out against his face. But she controlled herself. “I will bypass you and make the request to those with more authority.”

“It won’t work. Then?”

“Then I’ll resign.”

“I won’t allow it. You’re still useful to the PIA.”

Cheng Xin laughed bitterly. “You can’t stop me. You’ve never been my real boss.”

“You will not do anything I don’t allow.”

Cheng Xin turned around and started to walk away.