Chapter Two: Ten Seconds Ahead

In seven seconds, the hunter would break in, circle the table, and raise his right hand first. Reality skipped. Cheng Ye blinked and the gray-coated man was already inside, moving exactly as predicted. The intervening seconds—seconds that should have belonged to Cheng Ye—were blank. But his body fell in the position he had planned, catching the raised wrist. Lin Wu pressed a copper bookmark against the black phone. Her lighthouse cast a beam through its screen, exposing layers of consumed applications. Music held trapped cries. Health contained heartbeats from different bodies. Contacts listed hundreds of empty names. “He isn't a user,” Lin Wu said. “He's something the phone is wearing.”