Chapter Four: Lost and Found

Wen held it to the red light. Her nineteen-year-old self stood on an empty stage, short-haired and badly dressed, her eyes fiercely bright. In the front row sat a schoolgirl holding a cat. “Wen Cheng,” Xiaoman said. The name turned like a key inside Wen's temple. She doubled over, retching, but still could not remember her sister's face. The remaining negatives showed fragments rather than whole people: a fist, clenched teeth, eyes refusing tears. Beneath them lay Shen Lan's index: “The Mother Screen does not preserve people. It preserves choices judged excessive. Midnight expressions project the next extraction. A witness must have a non-consumptive bond with the subject.” Jianwei stopped reading. “Why can you see them?” Wen asked.