Chapter One: September Thirty-Fifth

The uniform rushed down the stairs, its face crowded with a dozen stolen features. At the edge of the light table it stopped as if against glass. Chen Shouyi's name shone on the paper. Every mouth on the creature opened. “Who remembers him?” This time Lin answered. “I do.” The uniform collapsed into damp cloth. Every light in Linchuan went out, then returned. The phone read 4:44 a.m., still September 35. Chen did not return. No one else remembered him. But his name remained. They had not rescued a man; they had merely prevented forgetting from finishing its meal. Near dawn, more ink surfaced on the manuscript. *Ten lost days. One returns today. With each returning day, the world forgets one person.* Beneath it, fainter still: