Lockdown Echoes
1089 Words
The lock on Xiuxiu’s door recognized Hai’s face with a soft beep. He’d anticipated this moment days earlier—slipping a facial recognition module into her lock while she wasn’t looking. He slipped inside silently. Xiuxiu and the man were huddled on the couch, the room dark save for the flickering glow of the TV painting their faces in shifting hues.
“Tough to make a move like this… if you still see him as human.” Hai’s thoughts were cold, but duty won out. He seized the man by the collar, yanking him off the couch. A fist cracked across his cheek; a boot drove into his gut a split second later.
Xiuxiu froze, shrinking into the couch corner. Words failed her—only a litany of pleas tumbled out: “Don’t hit me… please, don’t hit me…”
Hai’s face was blank, a robot without a spark of emotion. He clapped his hands once, pulled out a ****，and wiped his knuckles clean. Bending, he checked the man’s pulse. Still alive. With a reluctant shake of his head, he slung the unconscious body over his shoulder, grabbed a remote from his pocket as he left—jamming the surveillance signals along the way.
Xiuxiu watched him go, her mind clearing into a storm of questions.
When Hai returned moments later, she unleashed them: “Who are you? What right do you have to interfere? Did you kill him? Answer me! Aren’t you scared of getting caught?”
Hai poured himself a glass of red wine, legs crossed. “Nice wine. When’d you buy this?” His hands were gloved in navy rubber.
“I’m talking to you!” Xiuxiu snapped.
He ignored her, draining the glass and refilling it. As if her voice were static, he began reciting Cao Cao’s Short Song: “‘Drinking by lamplight, I ponder life’s brevity—like morning dew, so much time lost… Sorrows weigh heavy; what eases them? Only Du Kang’s wine…’”
Xiuxiu saw he wouldn’t engage, nor would he attack. Trembling, she reached out to push him—only for him to sweep her into his arms, bridal-style. His recitation ended: “‘Circling the tree thrice—what branch to perch on?… Lin Xiuxiu, you must learn self-respect.’”
“Spare me your feudal lectures.” His moralizing irked her. “Do you have any idea how much I suffer?”
“I know you can’t stand loneliness.”
“No. It’s because my heart is too full.”
“Someone with a full heart needs others’ comfort?”
“It’s not comfort. It’s distraction. Have you seen stars beyond the universe?”
“Yes.”
“Vast, spectacular, right?” Xiuxiu dragged a chair far from him, grabbed the wine bottle, and chugged. She wiped her mouth ** ly with the back of her hand. “Sometimes… my mind feels like it holds a whole universe. But when ** hits its peak, it stops being beautiful.”
“What does it become?”
“Terror.”
Hai paced. The date was approaching. He ached to end the secrecy—tell her about her past, her future. But it would violate every protocol. He couldn’t feel her pain, couldn’t admit her brain had been modified. Yet he understood.
He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, sudden as an assassin—when a siren wailed outside. “Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips, switching off the TV. Darkness swallowed the room. He pulled back a curtain corner, watching squad cars creep closer from the west.
“I told you! Do you even care about your job?”
Hai scoffed. “I’m just playing along. Relax—they’ll find nothing. He’s just some ordinary man.”
“I like ordinary.”
“Shhh.”
“Shush nothing. There’s no one here.”
“I don’t know if they’re regular cops or special agents. Special ones would bug our conversation.”
“You said he’s ordinary! Why send special agents for him?”
“Fool. You’re not ordinary.”
The siren blared on, rousing the whole neighborhood. Hai called to Xiuxiu: “Turn on the lights!”
“Why?”
“They’re watching—checking who’s in the dark.”
Xiuxiu fumbled, but the lights stayed off. She stumbled back to him, panicking. “They’re broken!”
“What?”
“Or the power’s out. I got a notice to pay the bill… forgot.”
“Typical. Grab your pajamas.” He stripped off his gloves.
“I don’t have men’s pajamas.”
“Sure you do.”
The doorbell rang. Through the peephole: five cops. Hai tensed. Regular cases got two patrolmen. Five meant trouble—maybe special agents. He messed up his hair, rumpled his pajamas, mismatched the buttons, then opened the door.
The lead officer, short and stocky, held out a hand. “Police business. IDs.”
Hai produced a fake ID—his face, but a false name and rural address.
“Own or rent?” the cop asked, condescending.
“Rent.”
“Who’s she?”
“My wife.”
“Marriage license?”
“Got it.”
“Show it.”
“First time I’ve heard cops demand marriage licenses.”
“Without one, it’s illegal cohabitation.”
“Mind your own business!” Xiuxiu snapped, sensing his arrogance.
The fat cop smirked, as if he’d caught them. “Citizens have a duty to comply.”
“Maybe focus on solving unsolved murders instead? Or catching thieves? Your precinct’s drowning in cold cases.”
“Watch your tone!”
“Just saying—thieves are outsmarting you.”
The four silent “cops” moved at once, crowding the door like statues coming to life.
Hai’s gut twisted. Bad. He couldn’t explain they were fake, here to provoke. Since officials had infiltrated the old mansion, leaks were inevitable.
He drew an anesthesia gun, firing at their foreheads—100 micro-darts to knock them out instantly. But they dodged, spreading out to encircle Xiuxiu and him, deploying nets. As the net closed on her, Hai shoved her free.
“Xiuxiu, run! Call the real cops—these are impostors!”
The fat cop lunged to grab her, breaking the circle. Hai sliced the net, grabbed her hand, and fled.
The facial lock kicked in behind them, trapping the “cops” inside.
“Enjoy locking people up?” Xiuxiu panted.
“Had no choice.”
- Writer
