Chapter Three: Wuyin Street

Water covered the maintenance tunnel floor to their ankles. Xu Zhi walked ahead with the red umbrella across her shoulders. It was no ordinary umbrella. Fine copper wire wound around the tips of its ribs, and an old cassette-player head was embedded in the handle. “It interferes with the overwrite?” Lin asked. “For a few minutes. Attention is a signal. The Bureau of Corrections is very good at making something feel unworthy of notice.” She glanced back. “Your extension does the opposite. That’s why they call it Que—a missing piece.” “How do you know?” “My brother Xu Yang vanished on Wuyin Street eight years ago. Police said no such street had ever existed. My parents said they had only one child.