from the embassy. The Tibetans want us to destroy him. Keep whining about how his soul won't be reborn, if we don't destroy it."
She laughed. "Why not write him onto a new body?"
"Don't be sacrilegious."
"That's how they see it? Fanatics can be so—"
"—intractable," he finished for her.
"So this whole mission is a waste?"
"He's not much good to us without his body. The Tibetans won't recognize him if we write him onto a new body and he's no good as leverage against the Chinese if he doesn't have a following."
She sighed. "I wish we didn't have to work with them."
"Without the Tibetans, we wouldn't even have known to look for the kid."
"Well, now they're threatening that if we don't give him back, the Pali Lama is going to flay our skins, or something."
"Palden Lhamo," said the man.
"What?"
He repeated, "Palden Lhamo. She's a Tibetan goddess. Supposed to be the protector of Tibet and our digital friend." He jerked his head at the datacube sitting on its shelf. "The paintings of her show her riding a mule across seas of blood and using the flayed skin of her son as a saddle blanket."
"What a lovely culture they've got."
"You should see the paintings: red hair, necklaces of skulls—"
"Enough."
Wang Jun said, "Can I open the window?"
The woman looked over at the man; he shrugged.
"Suibian," she said.
Wang Jun undid the securing clasps and rolled the wide window open. Chill air washed into the room. He peered down into the orange glow of the mist, leaning far out into the air. He stroked the spongy organic exoskeleton of the building, a resilient honeycomb of holes. Below, he could just make out the shifting silhouettes of constructors clambering across the surface of the structure. Behind him the conversation continued.
"So what do we do?"
He waved at the datacube. "We could always plug his eminence into a computer and ask him for advice."
Wang Jun's ears perked up. He wanted to hear the man inside the computer again.
"Would the Chinese be interested in a deal, even if his body is gone?"
"Maybe. They'd probably keep his cube in a desk drawer. Let it gather dust. If he never reincarnated, it would be fine with them. One less headache for them to deal with."
"Maybe we'll be able to trade him for something still, then."
"Not much, though. So what if he does reincarnate? It'll be twenty years before he has an effect on them." He sighed. "Trade talks start tomorrow. This operation's starting to look like a scrub at the home office. They're already rumbling about extracting us before the talks begin. At least the EU didn't get him."
"Well, I'll be glad to get back to California."
"Yeah."
Wang Jun turned from his view and asked, "Will you kill him?"
The pair exchanged looks. The man turned away, muttering under his breath. Wang Jun held in his response to the man's rudeness. Instead he said, "I'm hungry."
"He's hungry, again," muttered the man.
"We only have instants, now," said the woman.
" Xing ," said Wang Jun. The woman went into the kitchen and Wang Jun's eyes fastened on the dark blue sheen of the datacube, sitting on its shelf.
"I'm cold," said the man. "Close the window."
Wang Jun sniffed at the aroma of frying food coming from the woman and the kitchen. His belly rumbled, but he went to the window. "Okay."
* * *
The mist clung to him as he clung to the superstructure of the biologic city. His fingers dug into its spongy honeycomb skin and he heard the rush of Chengdu far below, but could not see it through the mist. He heard curses and looked up. Light silhouetted the beautiful woman who looked Chinese but wasn't and the man as they peered out of their luxury apartment window from high above.
He dug a fist deeper into the honeycomb wall and waved at them with his free hand, and then climbed lower with the self-confident ease of a beggar monkey. He looked up again to see the man make to climb out the window, and then the woman pulled him back in.
He descended. Slipping deeper into the
She laughed. "Why not write him onto a new body?"
"Don't be sacrilegious."
"That's how they see it? Fanatics can be so—"
"—intractable," he finished for her.
"So this whole mission is a waste?"
"He's not much good to us without his body. The Tibetans won't recognize him if we write him onto a new body and he's no good as leverage against the Chinese if he doesn't have a following."
She sighed. "I wish we didn't have to work with them."
"Without the Tibetans, we wouldn't even have known to look for the kid."
"Well, now they're threatening that if we don't give him back, the Pali Lama is going to flay our skins, or something."
"Palden Lhamo," said the man.
"What?"
He repeated, "Palden Lhamo. She's a Tibetan goddess. Supposed to be the protector of Tibet and our digital friend." He jerked his head at the datacube sitting on its shelf. "The paintings of her show her riding a mule across seas of blood and using the flayed skin of her son as a saddle blanket."
"What a lovely culture they've got."
"You should see the paintings: red hair, necklaces of skulls—"
"Enough."
Wang Jun said, "Can I open the window?"
The woman looked over at the man; he shrugged.
"Suibian," she said.
Wang Jun undid the securing clasps and rolled the wide window open. Chill air washed into the room. He peered down into the orange glow of the mist, leaning far out into the air. He stroked the spongy organic exoskeleton of the building, a resilient honeycomb of holes. Below, he could just make out the shifting silhouettes of constructors clambering across the surface of the structure. Behind him the conversation continued.
"So what do we do?"
He waved at the datacube. "We could always plug his eminence into a computer and ask him for advice."
Wang Jun's ears perked up. He wanted to hear the man inside the computer again.
"Would the Chinese be interested in a deal, even if his body is gone?"
"Maybe. They'd probably keep his cube in a desk drawer. Let it gather dust. If he never reincarnated, it would be fine with them. One less headache for them to deal with."
"Maybe we'll be able to trade him for something still, then."
"Not much, though. So what if he does reincarnate? It'll be twenty years before he has an effect on them." He sighed. "Trade talks start tomorrow. This operation's starting to look like a scrub at the home office. They're already rumbling about extracting us before the talks begin. At least the EU didn't get him."
"Well, I'll be glad to get back to California."
"Yeah."
Wang Jun turned from his view and asked, "Will you kill him?"
The pair exchanged looks. The man turned away, muttering under his breath. Wang Jun held in his response to the man's rudeness. Instead he said, "I'm hungry."
"He's hungry, again," muttered the man.
"We only have instants, now," said the woman.
" Xing ," said Wang Jun. The woman went into the kitchen and Wang Jun's eyes fastened on the dark blue sheen of the datacube, sitting on its shelf.
"I'm cold," said the man. "Close the window."
Wang Jun sniffed at the aroma of frying food coming from the woman and the kitchen. His belly rumbled, but he went to the window. "Okay."
* * *
The mist clung to him as he clung to the superstructure of the biologic city. His fingers dug into its spongy honeycomb skin and he heard the rush of Chengdu far below, but could not see it through the mist. He heard curses and looked up. Light silhouetted the beautiful woman who looked Chinese but wasn't and the man as they peered out of their luxury apartment window from high above.
He dug a fist deeper into the honeycomb wall and waved at them with his free hand, and then climbed lower with the self-confident ease of a beggar monkey. He looked up again to see the man make to climb out the window, and then the woman pulled him back in.
He descended. Slipping deeper into the
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