Chapter Two: The Reflection Moves First

The real woman clutched her throat, forgetting how to breathe. Lin aimed the film projector at the mirror. Flickering frames produced dozens of contradictory next movements. The reflection convulsed. Su dragged Zhao out of view, and her shadow slapped back onto the floor. Zhao survived, but could no longer remember her husband's name. She wept because she knew she ought to grieve. Then Lin understood why the public-health official had been chosen. He had been the first to state that reflections moved early—the first person to comprehend the rule. The day erased whoever saw it clearly first. “If we solve it,” Su said, “will it erase you next?” “Then an object must understand before I do.”