Chapter Two: What Are Ten Seconds Worth?

The next morning Cheng stood outside a betting shop for twenty minutes and did not enter. A restaurant television replayed the home run. On his phone, a spectator's video confirmed that the Japanese call had reached his headset ten seconds early. Yet away from the stadium, playing recordings in several languages produced nothing. The power had conditions: live event, live commentary, different languages. At least those three. With ten seconds, he could erase his debts in a night. But “Sample response” still echoed in his memory. Someone knew such a power existed. Someone had been waiting. His phone rang. A debt collector. Six years ago his father, linguist Cheng Wang, had vanished. Two years ago his mother had died after kidney failure.