Ch. 012| Class Three

06:50. Qiu Che woke. Before Skyvault's push.

He sat up. The first thing was to look at the drawer. Locked. The second thing was to look at the desktop. On the desktop there was only the Skylink.

The third thing—seven seconds later, a push into his ear:

Good morning, Mr. Qiu Che. This system has completed the analysis of your radio-frequency signal from yesterday. Comparison result: the signal profile did not match any registered personal device model; the burst pattern has been flagged as "unidentified source, further monitoring required." The cumulative weighting has been added to your perception-deviation assessment for this week. Adjusted weekly accumulation: 1.52.

1.52. The ceiling 1.50. Over it.

Qiu Che read it a second time—confirming he hadn't misread the decimal point.

The second push came in right behind the first, roughly two seconds apart:

Mr. Qiu Che, the Second High School has issued you a notice for a Health and Safety Review meeting. Please attend at Assessment Room D-1, District D of the school, today at 10:00. A driverless car has been automatically arranged for this meeting and will arrive at the foot of your apartment building at 09:32. This meeting is an in-person interview. Rescheduling will not be accepted.

"Will not be accepted." A new phrase.

For the past eleven days, every Skyvault push had ended with "please cooperate," "please respond," "we recommend you." Today was the first time it was "will not be."

Qiu Che set the Skylink on the desktop and sat on the edge of the bed looking at it for thirty seconds.

Yesterday Skyvault had let him push himself a stretch further—"a stretch" = the distance past the threshold.

---

08:00, the dining table.

This was the fourth day his mother had stayed home. Today she didn't say good morning to Qiu Che, didn't cut fruit, didn't look at her Skylink. She sat at the other end of the table, looking out the window.

"Che."

"Mm."

"Something at school today?"

"The health station sent it, an interview in the school's District D," Qiu Che said. "Last minute, can't be changed."

His mother looked at Qiu Che for three seconds.

She didn't ask "why," didn't ask "is it serious," didn't ask "do you want me to come with you."

"All right," she said.

Five seconds later, she said it again: "All right."

The second "all right" wasn't for Qiu Che. It was for herself.

Qiu Che stood up, went into his room, took everything out of his school bag and put it back in, making sure he knew where each thing was—two reference books from junior high, the mechanical pencil, an eraser.

He confirmed the notebook was locked in the drawer, confirmed Gu Wen's card was tucked inside the notebook, confirmed the five old photos were on the notebook's last page.

He wouldn't take a single one of them out of the house. There were only textbooks in the bag.

If whatever was in that interview room today led to his bag being searched—at least there'd be nothing to find.

---

09:32, the driverless car arrived on time.

Scanned the Skylink, got in, and the voice inside the car: "Mr. Qiu Che, destination: the District D entrance of the Second High School on the Sixth Ring Road, estimated travel time eight minutes."

On an ordinary Sunday a driverless car ran a little slower than on weekdays—09:32 in the morning, thin traffic on the Sixth Ring Road. Today this car ran as punctually as the same car in weekday peak hours, on the same beat.

What Skyvault had given Qiu Che today wasn't "weekend mode." It was "priority mode."

---

Qiu Che had never been into District D.

District D was the Second High School's "administrative and medical annex"—Qiu Che normally came to school through District A, District B was classrooms, District C the gymnasium. He knew District D existed, but he'd never had a reason to go in.

From the outside, District D looked like the other three: glass curtain wall, white metal frames, the pale blue closed-ring school crest. But at the entrance to District D, when Qiu Che got there, two things were different.

First, there was no guide-light strip at the District D entrance. The floor was pure white tile, without any visual indication of which way to go.

Second, a small notice was posted at the District D entrance, pale gray, reading:

This district is a dedicated zone for health assessment and administrative review
Upon entry your personal communication device will automatically switch to "Silent Sync" mode
Communications will be proxied to this district's dedicated channel
Normal function resumes once you exit this district

"Silent Sync." "Proxied to a dedicated channel."

Qiu Che raised a hand and touched the Skylink—the ambient-light indicator was still lit. But Qiu Che knew that once he stepped through this door, the Skylink wouldn't be the Skylink he was used to. He wouldn't be able to receive any message from Gu Wen inside District D. Even if Gu Wen happened to want to reach him today, it wouldn't get through.

Qiu Che pushed the door open and went in.

---

The District D corridor was long, pale white, the lighting cold. There was no one.

There was no guide-light strip on the floor, but there was a small pale gray arrow—printed on the tile, not flowing, static—pointing left.

Qiu Che followed the arrow. He walked about 20 meters, turned left, walked another 10 meters, and saw a staircase heading down.

Basement Level 1 / Basement Level 2
Assessment Room D-1 is on Basement Level 2

Basement Level 2. Qiu Che went down.

"Advanced" → "review": moving forward on paper, sinking downward in fact.

Qiu Che finished the stairs and reached the Basement Level 2 corridor. Narrower, colder, the lighting whiter. At the end of the corridor, a door. No number on the door, only a pale blue closed ring. D-1.

The door opened.

---

A chair in the middle of the room. A small table in front of the chair. A person behind the table.

Metal-framed glasses. Thin. Medium height. Looked about fifty. Wearing a dark gray suit. No Skylink—at least not anywhere Qiu Che could spot at a glance.

Qiu Che stood in the doorway and looked at the man for three seconds.

Metal-framed glasses. Thin. Medium height. Not Qiu Che's father. Qiu Che confirmed it—the features were completely different. But the type was exactly the same.

"Qiu Che," the man said. "Please sit."

The voice was flat, without inflection, like reading out the title of a case file.

Qiu Che walked to the chair and sat down.

"My name is Han," the man said. "I'm the advisor in charge of this Health and Safety Review."

He didn't extend a hand, didn't smile, didn't make any of the standard gestures that belong to "meeting for the first time."

The same opening as the first time he'd met Gu Wen.

"You are here today because your perception-deviation accumulation for this week has reached 1.52, exceeding the standard ceiling of 1.50," Han said. "Per standard procedure, this system requires an in-person interview with you to determine your next disposition."

"Disposition," Qiu Che said.

"Correct," Han said.

He took a card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, set it on the table, and slid it over to Qiu Che's side.

The card was pale cream, its surface finely textured. The same kind Gu Wen had given him. Four printed lines on it:

Li Research Group
Advisor
Han
Contact: [please book through the health station system]

"You're the Li Research Group," Qiu Che said.

"Correct," Han said.

"Same as Gu Wen."

"The same group as Gu Wen," Han said. "A different function."

Qiu Che picked up the card and looked at the line "Contact: [please book through the health station system]."

Compared with the "Contact: [tap this card]" on Gu Wen's card, it was the exact opposite design. Gu Wen's card went around Skyvault. Han's card went through Skyvault.

"I see," Qiu Che said.

"What do you see?" Han said.

"There are different functions inside your group," Qiu Che said. "Not necessarily all on the same line."

Han looked at Qiu Che for five seconds.

"You learn fast," Han said.

The same sentence Gu Wen had said. Two people, the same group, saying the same words, moving in opposite directions.

---

"I asked you here today to confirm that you accept the installation of the advanced calibration-assist module," Han said.

"The embedded module," Qiu Che said.

"Correct."

"Installed today?"

"Correct," Han said. "Your appointment was originally for next week. But your number went over this week. The standard procedure is on-site installation."

"Can I refuse?"

"You can," Han said. "You're currently at the 'recommended installation' stage; technically it still requires your personal consent."

"And after I refuse?"

"You will be classified as a 'Class-3 data contaminant,'" Han said. "The subsequent disposition for that category does not require your personal consent."

"What is the subsequent disposition?"

Han paused for a second.

"I'm not at liberty to comment," he said.

When Gu Wen said "not at liberty to comment," it was low, her eyes tipping toward the metal hood. When Han said "not at liberty to comment," it was flat, no tipping.

Han wasn't hiding something—Han was executing a procedure. He wasn't at liberty to comment not because he feared being overheard, but because the procedure forbade it.

"I see," Qiu Che said.

---

Han waited.

Qiu Che thought—thought of what Gu Wen had said yesterday, "if you don't pass you'll be left inside Skyvault's process, and the endpoint is the matched-type precursors category." Thought of what his mother had said yesterday, "the way you've been lately, it's a bit like your dad in that stretch before he went away." Thought of the five old photos in the drawer, of the way his father looked in metal-framed glasses. Thought of "18:30, June 16, 2065" on the note, less than thirty-two hours from now.

He couldn't have the embedded module installed.

He couldn't let the embedded module filter out, in his perceptual layer, the signals "Skyvault judged to be interference"—because among those "interferences," some might be the trail to his father.

More concretely: if he had it installed, then tomorrow at 18:30, standing at the end of that alley, he might not be able to see the entrance line up at all.

The embedded module would treat "lining up" as "interference."

Qiu Che raised his head and looked at Han.

"I refuse," Qiu Che said.

The voice was flat; to his own ears it sounded like a stranger's.

Han looked at Qiu Che for three seconds.

"You're certain," Han said.

"I'm certain."

"Good," Han said.

---

He raised a hand and pressed somewhere on the table that Qiu Che couldn't see.

The tabletop screen lit up, and a line of text appeared:

Qiu Che, student Skylink number ─────, classified as of today as a "Class-3 data contaminant."
Authority for subsequent disposition has been transferred to Skyvault standard operating procedure.
Personal consent is no longer a precondition.

"Flagged," Han said.

Qiu Che read the screen, and felt his chest half a degree heavier than a moment ago—not pain, but something added on.

"Thank you for attending today," Han said, his tone not changing at all.

"I can go."

"You can," Han said.

Qiu Che stood, walked to the door, paused for a second, and looked back at Han.

"Tomorrow I'm going somewhere," Qiu Che said—not knowing why the sentence came out.

Han raised his head and looked at Qiu Che.

He didn't ask "where." He didn't ask "why tell me."

He said only three words:

"Good luck to you."

The voice flat, not tipping, like reading the boilerplate closing line of a case file.

But those two words, "good luck," were the first thing Han had said today that wasn't in the standard-procedure script.

Qiu Che pushed the door open and went out.

---

11:48, Qiu Che walked out of the District D entrance.

The Skylink's ambient-light indicator, in the same second he stepped out of District D, lit back into the beat he was used to. "Silent Sync" mode had ended.

A push came into his ear immediately:

Mr. Qiu Che, your District D meeting today has been recorded. Welcome back to normal communication range.

Exactly the same tone as before he'd stepped into District D. As if nothing had happened. Only Qiu Che's back-end status had changed.

---

12:18, Qiu Che got back to his own apartment.

His mother wasn't in the living room. There was a sound from the kitchen—his mother washing dishes, not chopping. She wasn't cooking lunch today.

Qiu Che passed the kitchen doorway, looked at his mother's back, and didn't go in to say anything.

Into his room. Locked the door.

Opened the drawer, took out the notebook, turned to the page with Gu Wen's note. In the lower right corner of the note, "1"—not crossed out last night. He didn't cross it out today either.

"1" was "1." Tomorrow was June 16.

He turned the note over and, in the blank space on the back, wrote with the mechanical pencil:

I've been flagged. Class 3.
Han = someone from the other direction of the Li Research Group.
Han's card goes through Skyvault. Gu Wen's card goes around Skyvault.
Han said "good luck to you." Not in the script.

Turned the page.

Tomorrow 18:30, the end of the small alley beside No. 287, east side of the Third Ring Road.
Must go.

Turned the page. One last line, alone:

No embedded module.
Because lining up must not be treated as interference.

He set the pencil down, closed the notebook, locked it back in the drawer.

In the drawer: flashlight, old map, Gu Wen's card, the note, five old photos, and now Han's card as well.

---

On the desktop, only the Skylink was left.

Outside the window, noon on the Seventh Ring Road, driverless cars turning on time, ad projection boards cycling on time.

The whole city was as precise to the second as yesterday. Only now, in Skyvault's back end, Qiu Che was a person of a different category.

And that category, by Skyvault's records, had existed many times in the New Capital's history. By Gu Wen's records, where those people went afterward—no one knew.

Before 18:30 tomorrow—Qiu Che had thirty hours left.

【Ch. 012 End · home apartment on the Seventh Ring Road, the New Capital → Assessment Room D-1, District D, the Second High School on the Sixth Ring Road → home apartment】