SOP 5

At eight o’clock in the morning, neon signs flickered to life one after another, emitting a red light that mimicked the rising sun. Below them, the plaza was packed with tin carts and waterproof tarps. From a distance, the scene looked like a field of fish scales.

Fangpian and Liusha stepped out of the bar. Fangpian was a nocturnal creature. Lack of sleep turned him into a zombie, he probably needed toothpicks to prop his eyelids open. Liusha had no clothes of his own, he wore star-patterned pajamas as a coat over a sleeveless undershirt, giving him a somewhat roguish air befitting the lower levels.

The two stood still in the center of the plaza. Fangpian unwrapped a piece of bubblegum and listlessly chewed it.

“Little Shrimp, did you remember anything?”

“No.”

“If you can’t remember, don’t force it. It might be better to stay a fool who knows nothing. Your memory is like Pandora’s box. Once you open it, who knows what will crawl out? What if you recall that you were a time scavenger? I wouldn’t know how to explain that to Madam Heitao.”

Liusha absentmindedly listened. He eventually asked, “What exactly is a time scavenger?”

Fangpian then realized he was completely dazed, his memory was as blank as a sheet of paper, and said:

“To us, they are the bad guys. They appear out of nowhere and declare that you will harm the interests of the Time Entropy Group thirty years from now. Then they stab you and leave. They are the Group’s lapdogs, their private assassins. Now that you know that, what do you think they are?”

“Nonsensical people,” Liusha said.

“That’s right. But in their eyes, we aren’t even people, maybe we’re no different from rats.”

The two walked into swirling steam. Every tin cart on the plaza was a small mobile stall. They sold rice rolls, water chestnut cakes, and bread. The variety of food was as vast as a museum collection. Liusha thought that while these meals were not refined or prepared in a sterile environment, they were mouthwatering.

Fangpian stopped at a stall. The proprietress recognized him and warmly greeted him. Fangpian put on a professional smile and fed her some sweet talk. Prices here were low; a bowl of hot porridge cost four minutes of your life. A moment later, Fangpian walked back to Liusha with two drinks and handed him one.

“What is this?”

“Coffee,” Fangpian said.

Liusha took a sip and immediately spat it out. It was a terrifying bitterness. A single drop felt like it could force every taste bud into instant surrender. Liusha stuck his tongue out. “This is not coffee.”

Fangpian bit his straw. “Chinese coffee, Coptis tea. I ordered you a large espresso. Why the long face? This isn’t even bitter. Life is much worse.” Liusha threw a punch at him without hesitation. Fangpian dodged, and a bit of white liquid splashed from his own cup. He was drinking soy milk.

As they walked, the streetscape receded past them like flowing water. Even during the day, the lower levels saw no sun. Neon signs flickered, and colors rose and fell like Tetris blocks. Sometimes the visuals looked like television static.

“How much life balance do you have left?” Fangpian suddenly asked.

Liusha lifted his hand to look at the watch Madam Heitao had given him. There were forty hours left in his temporary account. When he first appeared in the scrapyard, he had nothing and no knowledge of the account that held his original life balance.

“Most people carry a transaction terminal,” Fangpian said. “The people in the lower levels usually only have a day or two on them. They have to work themselves to the bone to earn more time, or they die.”

He casually looked to the side. Liusha followed his gaze and saw beggars slumped along the road. Their eyes were wide and vacant, like broken storefront mannequins.

Fangpian looked toward the distance. His gaze was fixed on a skyscraper spiraling toward the sky. “The people here are different. Many rich people there live for centuries. If you save enough time, you can go there and apply to the Group to move up. There is an elevator that goes to the top. But for trash like us with no roof over our heads and no ground beneath our feet, someone will snatch your wealth for one reason or another before you ever save enough. Don’t harbor any fantasies about the Group. Besides, this is the headquarters of the rebellion. No one here wants to beg the Group for scraps.”

“Are you part of ‘Clepsydra’ too?” Liusha asked.

Fangpian blew a bubble with his gum. “No. Clepsydra doesn’t think much of me. I’m just an outsider.”

“Where do the members of Clepsydra come from?”

“People who resent the Group. People the Group exiled to a specific point in time who survived until now. Or people who used time-jump technology to sneak here. That’s the whole lot of them,” Fangpian said.

“But look, we are in the year 2026. We can only use guns and shells. Time scavengers come from the future. Their weapons are on a different dimension. They can detonate space or stop time whenever they want. Us fighting them is like Don Quixote charging windmills¹, or Confucius fighting Godzilla.”

Liusha looked at the Mauser pistol at Fangpian’s waist. That gun could fire bubbles that froze time. It was likely stolen from a time scavenger. The struggle between Clepsydra and the Group was, at its core, a war between the past and the future.

“So now, time is a commodity and a geographical divide. Clepsydra’s goal is to make time linear again. They want to start a new timeline from 2026 and bring about a future without the Group rule.”

“What if the Time Entropy Group sends scavengers to a point further back? They could kill you all in your cradles.”

Fangpian arched an eyebrow and smiled as if he had heard a funny joke. “They can’t. They are unable to jump to any point before 2026 right now.”

“Why?”

Liusha was ignorant of everything in the lower levels. Fangpian looked at the sky and patiently explained, finding a sort of paternal amusement in the task.

“Have you heard of a Time Labyrinth? Once the Group monopolized time-jump technology, they exiled dissidents to primitive eras and sent time scavengers to alter timelines that didn’t suit them. This created a strange phenomenon: people from the future can change the past at will, and people from the past know the future.”

He interlaced his fingers, forming a circle with his thumbs and forefingers.

“The timeline is a complete mess now. The world we inhabit does not move forward linearly. The past and future have woven themselves into a loop. When the timeline of a certain year becomes chaotic enough, that space collapses. It forms a labyrinth of circular timelines.”

Liusha felt like he was listening to a foreign language. He shook his head. “That’s not scientific.”

“Your infant-sized brain probably can’t grasp the physics, so I used some unscientific metaphors to explain it. In short, the year 2026 is inside one of these labyrinths. Time-jump technology cannot leap to any era before this one. That is why the Group doesn’t dare dump rebels back into the Cretaceous period anymore, and why the resistance is concentrated here in 2026.”

“A forced jump further back is possible, but the price is immense. It’s like jumping naked into a high-speed meat grinder. At best, your body is torn to pieces. At worst… I don’t even know. Time scavengers are expensive assets for the Group. The executives have to hold several meetings and reach a unanimous agreement before they send one of those high-precision killing machines on a one-way trip.”

Liusha nodded. “I understand. 2026 is like a house number, and you all live here.”

Fangpian offered a smile. The two paused on a pedestrian bridge as countless pinpricks of light rushed toward them like shifting silver sand. He turned to Liusha. “Since the years have become house numbers and life is a commodity, what do you think time is to us now?”

He did not wait for Liusha to answer. “The time we experience now exists only in our consciousness. There is a concept called ‘time perception’, the awareness of the continuity and order of objective phenomena. For example, when you do something painful, a single minute feels like an eternity, right? What we experience now is your perceptual time. It is not one minute of reality, but ten minutes in your mind. In this chaotic world, the time we live is a lie. Perhaps only by returning to the primitive can we rebuild the order of time. That is the goal Clepsydra works toward.”

Liusha ruminated on the meaning of these words before finally shaking his head honestly. “I don’t understand.”

Fangpian patted his shoulder. “Good. It’s better not to understand. This world is nonsensical.”

They walked through the alleys. Pipes ran horizontally and vertically along the walls, and the ground was tinted red under the neon signs, making it feel as if they were walking on a giant, heated iron pan. Fangpian led Liusha past shop after shop, asking if anything looked familiar. Liusha felt a blur in his mind and could only offer hesitant, uncertain answers.

Fangpian’s focus began to drift. Whenever he saw an elderly woman he recognized or a female regular from the bar, he stepped forward to flirt. He chatted brightly with them about how they should use smoky eyeshadow, fashionable cybernetics, and fluorescent tattoos to embolden themselves. Liusha watched him play the charmer, his mood fluctuating. He grabbed Fangpian’s collar. “You said you’d stay with me for the day. What are you doing?”

“You can’t remember a thing, so I have given up on your brain. Their heads work better than yours. I am asking if they remember seeing you,” Fangpian mused, fiddling with a bottle of black greasepaint he had charmed off a customer. “You must have lost your memory from a blow to the head. Maybe if I whack your skull once more, you’ll remember everything?”

Liusha replied coldly, “Boss, my head is not an old television. You cannot fix it by hitting it.”

They walked side by side. From the corner of his eye, Liusha saw a billboard next to Fangpian. It featured a figure with a white-painted face, a plush cap adorned with spinels, a white suit, and shimmering diamond studs on its cheeks. It was a clown surrounded by balloons and playing cards, bowing to an audience with wild, flamboyant energy.

Fangpian noticed his gaze and followed it, then smiled. “What’s wrong?”

“That character looks a lot like you,” Liusha said.

“I am the one who looks like the character. Have you never seen it? It’s from ‘Ace Joker,’ an animation popular in both the upper and lower levels.” Fangpian struck a theatrical curtain-call pose identical to the character’s.

Liusha stared at the figure dancing on the billboard. His heart suddenly ached, as if his love for this character was carved into his very bones. He asked, “Is your outfit just a cosplay?”

“Yes. It’s a timeless character, after all. Ace Joker is a hero who uses tricks like balloon animals and juggling to defeat villains. He brings laughter and justice to children. I am a fan, too.”

“I thought you were mimicking Michael Jackson’s look from the ‘Smooth Criminal’ music video.”

“I am. I cosplay Michael Jackson on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays.”

Fangpian thoughtfully stroked his chin. “You seem to like the character. How about this: I’ll pay your entire salary in animation merchandise from now on.”

Liusha said, “If you dare do that, I will punch you until you are as flat as a playing card.”

They eventually reached a dark alley. An old, broken billboard hummed with the sound of electricity, like the sizzle of a moth hitting a light. Men with fluorescent tattoos crouched in the corners, their expressions unfriendly and their faces stained a dark, muddy color by the dim light. Liusha felt something was wrong and looked at Fangpian.

Feeling the tension, Fangpian spoke before Liusha could. “The slums are just ahead. I figured you might have grown up there. A walk around might spark a memory.”

“I think we’ll be robbed blind before I remember anything.”

As if on cue, a man suddenly rushed out swinging a shovel, shouting:

“Robbery! Hand over your time… hand it over, or I’ll crack your skulls!”

Fangpian and Liusha shared a look, then surveyed their surroundings. Fangpian asked, “Who are you robbing?”

“Huh?” The robber was stunned. Fangpian pointed at Liusha. “Me or him?”

“Both… both of you!”

“Too greedy, pal. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Fangpian turned to Liusha and rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you let him rob you? Your head needs a hit anyway. Let him whack you with the shovel; you might recover your mem….”

Before he even finished speaking, Liusha grabbed Fangpian’s head and slammed it into the robber’s forehead.

A loud explosion went off in Fangpian’s mind. His vision filled with fireworks and spinning stars. He and the robber fell to the ground. After a long moment, he crawled up and yelled, “What was that for!”

Liusha looked at him coldly. “Boss, you said you had no hope for my brain, so a hit wouldn’t fix me. But your brilliant head is different. A good thumping might help you remember something.”

Fangpian said resentfully, “Yes, I remembered the fact that you are a vicious thug.”

The robber was also stunned. Fangpian snorted and vented his frustration with Liusha on the man. He kicked the shovel aside, pulled off the man’s belt, and tied him up expertly. When the robber cleared his head and saw the two fearsome figures standing over him, he repeatedly bowed his head in submission.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, masters! I had no choice, that’s why I was so rude… I was scammed by the Group’s loan sharks. My house is gone, my family is scattered, and I’ve mortgaged thirty years of my future life. My balance is only two hours. I won’t even survive the day…”

“That’s no excuse for crime. If you have the guts, go join Clepsydra. Kick down the Group’s doors and take your thirty years back.”

Fangpian took out his watch, tapped it a few times to transfer two hours to the man, and then said, “Let’s go, black-hearted employee.”

The robber stared blankly at their departing backs, momentarily unable to move.

After a few steps, Liusha suddenly grabbed Fangpian’s wrist, his gaze like ice. “Give me back my time.”

“What?” Fangpian feigned ignorance.

“The time you just gave that robber came from my account.” Liusha held out his hand. Fangpian had stealthily swiped the watch Madam Heitao gave him. “Give it back.”

“Why talk about borrowing and returning between brothers? I’ll just deduct it from your future wages,” Fangpian said without a hint of shame, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

Liusha did not appreciate the gesture and punched him.

They continued to wander through the streets. As they walked, Liusha thought about the robber. The fact that Fangpian treated it as a normal occurrence meant such scenes were common in the lower levels. Many people had no future and lived on the brink of death in the shadows.

Fangpian led him through the slums, where sewage flowed. Thin elderly people in flip-flops huddled on nylon bags, sorting paint cans and grinding plastic like mold growing under the neon lights. Fangpian pointed at one of them.

“Guess how old that person is.”

Liusha attentively observed. It was a sallow, skeletal old woman sitting by a window, gluing cores onto scrap leather. Knowing Fangpian wouldn’t ask without a reason, Liusha said cautiously, “Forty… thirty?”

“Ten,” Fangpian said. His gaze was detached, yet it held a trace of pity.

Liusha fell silent.

He scrutinized the “old woman” from head to toe. “She doesn’t look it. Why is she like this?”

“She overextended her body’s time. Maybe she traded it for food and water, or perhaps someone else used it as collateral. In this place, never judge age by what you see. An old man with a head of white hair might actually be less than a month old.”

Liusha said nothing. He watched those elderly children buried in their labor. Behind them, neon signs flickered with various slogans: “Brain-Tech Hyper-Sensing Prosthetics, your eternal helper, coming in 2036! Pre-order now for free neural calibration!” “Energy Red Pills, one pill rewrites the hypothalamus, instant spirit!” He realized these were advertisements from the future.

The advertising department of the Time Entropy Group had once projected billboards into the 17th-century Enlightenment era, leaving the people of that time in awe as if they had seen a miracle. They sought to root the memory of their products in the human mind centuries in advance, even if the people trapped in those dark ages were still starving.

Liusha suddenly quickened his pace. He felt a small insect burrowing into his heart, and wherever it bit, the flesh turned rotten and bitter. The sight made him distraught. He wondered if his heart was malfunctioning.

“Why the sudden rush?”

Liusha didn’t look back. “Nothing. I’m just in a bad mood.”

“Don’t tell me you feel sympathy for them. What is there to pity? This is reality.” Fangpian hurried to catch up. “We don’t need sympathy. We only need the anger that can change reality.”

It was hard to tell, but beneath his playful exterior, this man had quite the cynical streak. Liusha looked at him, but found only the usual shallow smile. Suddenly, Fangpian grabbed Liusha’s wrist and pulled him into a side alley.

“What is it?”

Fangpian signaled him to be quiet. The two pressed together like climbing vines and peeked out of the alley. A figure in a black cloak and a Venetian Carnival mask walked slowly toward the slums.

The figure was tall and carried a laser hilt, radiating a murderous aura. Fangpian whispered:

“It’s a time scavenger.”

An intense pain shot through Liusha’s head. He took a deep breath and asked, “What is a time scavenger doing here?”

“If things go as expected, he’s here to kill. They are the grim reapers, after all.”

The time scavenger approached the children who looked like old people. His steps were calm and precise, every move was measured. Liusha saw him move toward the old-looking girl who was cutting leather. His fingers were on the laser sword’s switch. He intended to kill.

Liusha’s heart tightened. Why would a scavenger kill a filthy child who had only lived a few years? She was so thin that every bone stood out beneath her skin. She had difficulty moving her hands, her chest heaved, and her breathing was loud. Could a child like this threaten the Group’s future interests?

Fangpian noticed the flicker of hesitation in his eyes and tugged at his sleeve.

“Employee, go talk to that scavenger. See what he’s actually up to.”

“Talk to him? How?”

“Pretend to be one of his peers. Greet him and say you are also a time scavenger on a mission in the lower levels.”

“Easy for you to say. How do I know what his peers look like?”

Liusha saw a glimmer of amusement in Fangpian’s eyes and knew another bad idea was brewing. As expected, a wicked grin played on Fangpian’s lips.

“They look just like you.”

Liusha looked at him blankly, completely lost.

“I once saw the Chief Time Scavenger of the Time Entropy Group. Your build is very similar to his.”

Fangpian smiled and patted his shoulder.

“Go on. Approach him. Say you are his colleague. Your codename is ‘Liusha’.”

1. Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra is a novel written between 1605 and 1615. It tells the story of Alonso Quijano, who becomes Don Quixote, together with his squire Sancho Panza. The story is focused on their adventures to restore chivalry. The first part of the novel introduces Don Quixote as a character who often has different views on situations, such as looking at the windmills as giants. ↩︎