"Give me one minute. I'll be done soon." Da Shi extended a hand in front of Colonel Stanton.

"What do you want?" the colonel asked, puzzled.

"Give me another one."

Stanton hesitated for a second before taking another cigar out of a beautiful wooden box and handing it to Da Shi. Da Shi took the smoking end of the first cigar and pressed it against the table so that it stood on the sh.o.r.e of the Panama Ca.n.a.l that he'd drawn on the table. He flattened the end of the other cigar and erected it on the other sh.o.r.e of the ca.n.a.l.

"We set up two pillars on the sh.o.r.es of the ca.n.a.l, and then between them we string many parallel, thin filaments, about half a meter apart. The filaments should be made from the nanomaterial called 'Flying Blade,' developed by Professor w.a.n.g. A very appropriate name, in this case."

After Shi Qiang finished speaking, he stood and waited a few seconds. Then he raised his hands, said to the stunned crowd, "That's it," turned, and left.

The air seemed frozen. Everyone present stayed still like stone statues. Even the droning from the computers all around them seemed more careful.

After a long while, someone timidly broke the silence, "Professor w.a.n.g, is 'Flying Blade' really in the form of filaments?"

w.a.n.g nodded. "Given our current molecular construction technique, the only form we can make is a filament. The thickness is about one-hundredth the thickness of human hair.... Officer Shi got this information from me before the meeting."

"Do you have enough material?"

"How wide is the ca.n.a.l? And how tall is the ship?"

"The narrowest point of the ca.n.a.l is one hundred fifty meters wide. Judgment Day is thirty-one meters tall, with a draft of eight meters or so."

w.a.n.g stared at the cigars on the table and did some mental calculations. "I think I should have enough."

Another long silence. Everyone was trying to recover from their astonishment.

"What if the equipment storing Trisolaran data, such as hard drives and optical disks, is also sliced?"

"That doesn't seem likely."

"Even if they were sliced," a computer expert said, "it's not a big deal. The filaments are extremely sharp, and the cut surfaces would be very smooth. Given that premise, whether it's hard drives, optical disks, or integrated circuit storage, we could recover the vast majority of the data."

"Anyone got a better idea?" Chang looked around the table. No one spoke. "All right. Then let's focus on this and work out the details."

Colonel Stanton, who had been silent the whole time, stood up. "I will go and ask Officer Shi to come back."

General Chang indicated that he should remain seated. Then he called out, "Da Shi!"

Da Shi returned, grinning at everyone. He picked up the cigars on the table. The one that had been lit he put into his mouth, and the other he stuffed into his pocket.

Someone asked, "When Judgment Day pa.s.ses, can those two pillars bear the force applied against the Flying Blade filaments? Maybe the pillars would be sliced apart first."

w.a.n.g said, "That's easy to solve. We have some small amounts of Flying Blade material that are flat sheets. We can use them to protect the parts of the column where the filaments are attached."

The discussion after that was mainly between the naval officers and navigation experts.

"Judgment Day is at the upper limit in terms of tonnage that can pa.s.s through the Panama Ca.n.a.l. It has a deep draft, so we have to consider installing filaments below the waterline."

"That will be very difficult. If there's not enough time, I don't think we should worry about it. The parts of the ship below the waterline are used for engines, fuel, and ballast, causing a lot of noise, vibration, and interference. The conditions are too poor for computing centers and other similar facilities to be located there. But for the parts above water, a tighter nanofilament net will give better results."

"Then it's best to set the trap at one of the locks along the ca.n.a.l. Judgment Day is built to Panamax specifications, just enough to fill the thirty-two-meter locks. Then we would only need to make the Flying Blade filaments thirty-two meters long. This will also make it easier to erect the pillars and string the filaments between them, especially for the underwater parts."

"No. The situation around the locks is too unpredictable. Also, a ship inside the lock must be pulled forward by four 'mules,' electric locomotives on rails. They move slowly, and the time inside the locks will also be when the crew is most alert. An attempt to slice through the ship during that time would most likely be discovered."

"What about the Bridge of the Americas, right outside the Miraflores Locks? The abutments at the two ends of the bridge can serve as the pillars for stringing the filaments."

"No. The distance between the abutments is too great. We don't have enough Flying Blade material."

"Then it's decided: The site of operation should be the narrowest point of the Gaillard Cut, a hundred and fifty meters across. Add in some slack for the pillars ... let's call it a hundred seventy meters."

w.a.n.g said, "If that's the plan, then the smallest distance between the filaments will be fifty centimeters. I don't have enough material for a tighter net."

"In other words, we have to make sure the ship crosses during the day," Da Shi said, blowing out another mouthful of smoke.

"Why?"

"At night the crew will be sleeping, which means they'll all be lying down. Fifty centimeters between filaments leaves too much of a gap. But during the day, even if they're sitting or crouching, the distance is sufficient."

A few scattered laughs. The attendees, all under heavy stress, felt a bit of release tinged with the smell of blood.

"You're truly a demon," a female UN official said to Da Shi.

"Will innocent bystanders be hurt?" w.a.n.g asked, his voice trembling.

A naval officer replied, "When the ship goes through the locks, more than a dozen cable workers will come onboard, but they'll all get off after the ship pa.s.ses. The Panama Ca.n.a.l pilot will have to accompany the ship the entire eighty-two kilometers, so the pilot will have to be sacrificed."

A CIA officer said, "And some of the crew aboard Judgment Day probably don't know the real purpose of the ship."

"Professor," General Chang said, "do not concern yourself with these thoughts. The information we need to obtain has to do with the very survival of human civilization. Someone else will make the call."

As the meeting ended, Colonel Stanton pushed the beautiful cigar box in front of Shi Qiang. "Captain, the best Havana has to offer. They're yours."

Four days later, Gaillard Cut, Panama Ca.n.a.l w.a.n.g could not even tell that he was in a foreign country. He knew that to the west, not too far away, was beautiful Gatun Lake. To the east was the magnificent Bridge of the Americas and Panama City. But he had had no chance to see either of them.

Two days earlier, he had arrived by direct flight from China to Toc.u.men International Airport near Panama City and then rode a helicopter here. The sight before him was very common: The construction work under way to widen the ca.n.a.l caused the tropical forest on both slopes to be quite spa.r.s.e, revealing large patches of yellow earth. The color felt familiar to w.a.n.g. The ca.n.a.l didn't seem very special, probably because it was so narrow here, but a hundred thousand people had dug out this part of the ca.n.a.l in the previous century, one hoe at a time.

w.a.n.g and Colonel Stanton sat on lounge chairs under an awning halfway up the slope. Both wore loose, colorful shirts, with their Panama hats tossed to the side, looking like two tourists.

Below, on each sh.o.r.e of the ca.n.a.l, a twenty-four-meter steel pillar lay flat against the ground, parallel to the sh.o.r.e. Fifty ultrastrong nanofilaments, each 160 meters long, were strung between the pillars. At the end on the eastern sh.o.r.e, every filament was connected to a length of regular steel wire. This was to give the filaments enough slack so that they could sink to the bottom of the ca.n.a.l, aided by attached weights. The setup permitted other ships safe pa.s.sage. Luckily, traffic along the ca.n.a.l wasn't quite as busy as w.a.n.g had imagined. On average, only about forty large ships pa.s.sed through each day.

The operation's code name was "Guzheng," based on the similarity between the structure and the ancient Chinese zither by that name. The slicing net of nanofilaments was thus called the "zither."

An hour earlier, Judgment Day had entered the Gaillard Cut from Gatun Lake.

Stanton asked w.a.n.g whether he had ever been to Panama before. w.a.n.g said no.

"I came here in 1989," the colonel said.

"Because of that war?"

"Yes, that was one of those wars that left me with no impression. I only remember being in front of the Vatican emba.s.sy as 'Nowhere to Run' by Martha and the Vandellas played for the holed-up Noriega. That was my idea, by the way."

In the ca.n.a.l below them, a pure white French cruise ship slowly sailed past. Several pa.s.sengers in colorful clothing strolled leisurely on the green-carpeted deck.

"Second Observation Post reporting: There are no more ships in front of the target." Stanton's walkie-talkie squawked.

Stanton gave the order. "Raise the zither."

Several men wearing hard hats appeared on both sh.o.r.es, looking like maintenance workers. w.a.n.g stood up, but the colonel pulled him down. "Professor, don't worry. They know what to do." w.a.n.g watched as those on the eastern sh.o.r.e rapidly winched back the steel wires attached to the nanofilaments and secured the tightened nanofilaments to the pillar. Then, slowly, the two pillars were stood upright using their mechanical hinges. As a disguise, the pillars were decorated with some navigational markings and water depth indicators. The workers proceeded leisurely, as though they were simply carrying out their boring jobs. w.a.n.g gazed at the s.p.a.ce between the pillars. There seemed to be nothing there, but the deadly zither was already in place.

"Target is four kilometers from the zither," the voice in the walkie-talkie said.

Stanton put the walkie-talkie down. He continued the conversation with w.a.n.g. "The second time I came to Panama was in 1999, to attend the ceremony for the handover of the ca.n.a.l to Panama. Oddly, by the time we got to the Authority's building, the Stars and Stripes were already gone. Supposedly the U.S. government had requested that the flag be lowered a day early to avoid the embarra.s.sment of lowering the flag in front of a crowd.... Back then, I thought I was witnessing history. But now that seems so insignificant."

"Target is three kilometers from the zither."

"Yes, insignificant," w.a.n.g mumbled. He wasn't listening to Stanton at all. The rest of the world had ceased to exist for him. All of his attention was focused on the spot where Judgment Day would appear. By now the sun that had risen over the Atlantic was falling toward the Pacific. The ca.n.a.l sparkled with golden light. Close by, the deadly zither stood quietly. The two steel pillars were dark and reflected no sunlight, looking even older than the ca.n.a.l that flowed between them.

"Target is two kilometers from the zither."

Stanton seemed to not have heard the voice from the walkie-talkie. He continued, "After learning that the alien fleet is coming toward the Earth, I've been suffering from amnesia. It's so strange. I can't recall many things from the past. I don't remember the details of the wars I experienced. Like I just said, those wars all seem so insignificant. After learning this truth, everyone becomes a new person spiritually, and sees the world anew. I've been thinking: Suppose two thousand years ago, or even earlier, humanity learned that an alien invasion fleet would arrive a few thousand years later. What would human civilization be like now? Professor, can you imagine it?"

"Ah, no..." w.a.n.g answered perfunctorily, his mind elsewhere.

"Target is one point five kilometers from the zither."

"Professor, I think you will be the Gaillard of this new era. We're waiting for your new Panama Ca.n.a.l to be built. Indeed, the s.p.a.ce elevator is a ca.n.a.l. Just as the Panama Ca.n.a.l connected two oceans, the s.p.a.ce elevator will connect s.p.a.ce with the Earth."

w.a.n.g knew that the colonel's babbling was meant to help him through this very difficult time. He was grateful, but it wasn't working.

"Target is one kilometer from the zither."

Judgment Day appeared. In the light from the setting sun coming over the hills to the side, it was a dark silhouette against the golden waves of the ca.n.a.l. The sixty-thousand-ton ship was much larger than w.a.n.g had imagined. Its appearance was like another peak abruptly inserted among the hills. Even though w.a.n.g knew that the ca.n.a.l was capable of accommodating ships as large as seventy thousand tons, witnessing such a large ship in such a narrow waterway was a strange feeling. Given its immensity, the ca.n.a.l below seemed to no longer exist. The ship was a mountain gliding across solid earth. After he grew used to the sunlight, w.a.n.g saw that Judgment Day's hull was pitch black, and the superstructure was painted pure white. The giant antenna was gone. They heard the roar from the ship's engines, accompanied by the churning sound of waves that had been generated by the round prow slapping against the sh.o.r.es of the ca.n.a.l.

As the distance between Judgment Day and the deadly zither closed, w.a.n.g's heart began to beat faster, and his breath became short. He had a desire to run away, but he felt so weak that he could no longer control his body. All at once, he was overwhelmed by a deep hatred for Shi Qiang. How could the b.a.s.t.a.r.d have come up with such an idea? Like that UN official said, he is a demon! But the feeling pa.s.sed. He thought that if Da Shi were by his side, he would probably feel better. Colonel Stanton had invited Shi Qiang to come, but General Chang refused to give permission because he said that Da Shi was needed where he was. w.a.n.g felt the colonel's hand on his back.

"Professor, all this will pa.s.s."

Judgment Day was below them now, pa.s.sing through the deadly zither. When its prow first contacted the plane between the two steel pillars, the s.p.a.ce that seemed empty, w.a.n.g's scalp tightened. But nothing happened. The immense hull of the ship continued to slowly sail past the two steel pillars. When half the ship had pa.s.sed, w.a.n.g began to doubt whether the nanofilaments between the steel pillars really existed.

But a small sign soon negated his doubt. He noticed a thin antenna located at the very top of the superstructure breaking at its base, and the antenna tumbling down.

Soon, there was a second sign indicating the presence of the nanofilaments, a sign that almost made w.a.n.g break down. Judgment Day's wide deck was empty save for one man standing near the stern hosing down the ship's bollards. From his vantage point, w.a.n.g saw everything clearly. The moment that that section of the ship pa.s.sed between the pillars, the hose broke into two pieces not too far from the man, and water spilled out. The man's body stiffened, and the nozzle tumbled from his hand. He remained standing for a few seconds, then fell. As his body contacted the deck, it came apart in two halves. The top half crawled through the expanding pool of blood, but had to use two arms that were b.l.o.o.d.y stumps. The hands had been cleanly sliced off.

After the stern of the ship went between the two pillars, Judgment Day continued to sail forward at the same speed, and everything seemed normal. But then w.a.n.g heard the sound of the engine shift into a strange whine, before turning into chaotic noise. It sounded like a wrench being thrown into the rotor of a large motor-no, many, many wrenches. He knew this was the result of the rotating parts of the engine having been cut. After a piercing, tearing sound, a hole appeared in the side of the stern of Judgment Day, made by a large metallic piece punching through the hull. A broken component flew out of the hole and fell into the water, causing a large column of water to shoot up. As it briefly flew past, w.a.n.g recognized it as a section of the engine crankshaft.

A thick column of smoke poured out of the hole. Judgment Day, which had been sailing along the right sh.o.r.e, now began to turn, dragging this smoky tail. Soon it crossed over the ca.n.a.l and smashed into the left sh.o.r.e. As w.a.n.g looked, the giant prow deformed as it collided into the slope, slicing open the hill like water, causing waves of earth to spill in all directions. At the same time, Judgment Day began to separate into more than forty slices, each slice half a meter thick. The slices near the top moved faster than the slices near the bottom, and the ship spread open like a deck of cards. As the forty-some metal slices moved past each other, the piercing noise was like countless giant fingernails scratching against gla.s.s.

By the time the intolerable noise ended, Judgment Day was spilled on the sh.o.r.e like a stack of plates carried by a stumbling waiter, the plates near the top having traveled the farthest. The slices looked as soft as cloth, and rapidly deformed into complicated shapes impossible to imagine as having once belonged to a ship.

Soldiers rushed toward the sh.o.r.e from the slope. w.a.n.g was surprised to find so many men hidden nearby. A fleet of helicopters arrived along the ca.n.a.l with their engines roaring; crossed the ca.n.a.l surface, which was now covered by an iridescent oil slick; hovered over the wreckage of Judgment Day; and began to drop large quant.i.ties of fire suppression foam and powder. Shortly, the fire in the wreckage was under control, and three other helicopters began to drop searchers into the wreckage with cables.

Colonel Stanton had already left. w.a.n.g picked up the binoculars he'd left on top of his hat. Overcoming his trembling hands, he observed Judgment Day. By this time, the wreckage was mostly covered by fire-extinguishing foam and powder, but the edges of some of the slices were left exposed. w.a.n.g saw the cut surfaces, smooth as mirrors. They reflected the fiery red light of dusk perfectly. He also saw a deep red spot on the mirror surface. He wasn't sure if it was blood.

Three days later INTERROGATOR: Do you understand Trisolaran civilization?

YE WENJIE: No. We received only very limited information. No one has real, detailed knowledge of Trisolaran civilization except Mike Evans and other core members of the Adventists who intercepted their messages.

INTERROGATOR: Then why do you have such hope for it, thinking that it can reform and perfect human society?

YE: If they can cross the distance between the stars to come to our world, their science must have developed to a very advanced stage. A society with such advanced science must also have more advanced moral standards.

INTERROGATOR: Do you think this conclusion you drew is scientific?

YE:...

INTERROGATOR: Let me presume to guess: Your father was deeply influenced by your grandfather's belief that only science could save China. And you were deeply influenced by your father.

YE: (sighing quietly) I don't know.

INTERROGATOR: We have already obtained all the Trisolaran messages intercepted by the Adventists.

YE: Oh ... what happened to Evans?

INTERROGATOR: He died during the operation to capture Judgment Day. But the posture of his body pointed us to the computers holding copies of the Trisolaran messages. Thankfully, they were all encoded with the same self-interpreting code used by Red Coast.

YE: Was there a lot of data?

INTERROGATOR: Yes, about twenty-eight gigabytes.

YE: That's impossible. Interstellar communication is very inefficient. How can so much data have been transmitted?

INTERROGATOR: We thought so at first, too. But things were not at all as we had imagined-not even in our boldest, most fantastic imaginations. How about this? Please read this section of the preliminary a.n.a.lysis of the captured data, and you can see the reality of the Trisolaran civilization, compared with your beautiful fantasies.

32.

Trisolaris: The Listener The Trisolaran data contained no descriptions of the biological appearance of Trisolarans. Since humans would not lay eyes on actual Trisolarans until more than four hundred years later, Ye could only envision the Trisolarans as humanoid as she read the messages. She filled in the blanks between the lines with her imagination.