Chapter Three: The Street Written into Being

“It wasn't a natural disaster,” Su whispered. “The Verge doesn't want to consume Linchuan. It wants Linchuan to remember.” Measured footsteps sounded beyond the arch. People in black raincoats blocked the exit. Their leader, a tired-looking man of forty, held a white umbrella. “Ye Guanlan, Municipal Emergency Affairs.” He showed identification but watched the document. “You have folded three districts and temporarily displaced seventy-two people. Hand me the original.” “You remember Professor Fan?” Lin asked. “And Chen Shouyi. And Deputy Director Meng. You are not the only people who retain memory after a correction.” Su stared at the emblem on his umbrella: ten lines encircling an empty center, identical to the clock beyond the mirror.