Minh and Nhan fell asleep in their respective corners of the black-walled cell. Minh woke up in the middle of the night, stretching his numb shoulder, which had cramped from the hard tiled floor. Nhan rested curled up in a ball opposite him. Tufts of her hair covered half her face, but Minh imagined the other half. She looked peaceful and happy, especially for being imprisoned in the middle of a rebellion. But he knew well-enough the harsh attitude lying in wait right underneath, just out of sight. His eyes felt drawn to her, but he snapped his neck the other way. Stop it, he told himself. She’s three years older. Two and a half. Stop. Just stop. We’re in a war zone. His eyes continued his gaze until he re-entered the dream world a few moments later.
The room had brightened at 6 AM, and Nhan kicked Minh in the side.
“What?” he jolted awake. “Am I late for school?” He glanced up. Nhan’s legs were forced inward in an awkward position.
“How do we go to the bathroom in here?”
“What?”
“The bathroom. They know we’re human, right? I’m not a machine. I need to pee.”
“Oh.” Minh sat up. “Try asking them.”
“Who?”
“The walls. They know everything anyhow.”
“Speak to the walls?”
“Yes.”
She looked upward and spoke to the ceiling. “I need to pee.”
“I said walls, not ceiling.”
“Doesn’t the ceiling hear also?”
The main door opened on command and two machines filled the doorway.
“Apparently so,” said Minh.
He went with her down the hall to relieve themselves. He didn’t think of running, not with the machines as escorts. But he also didn’t return to the facility just to escape again. Why did he come back? He thought of that question the entire time until they returned to the cell. To their surprise, a hot bowl of rice and broth had been placed inside. They both devoured it without a word to each other.
Nhan placed the empty bowl down first. “So these machines. What are they?”
“I don’t know. In some ways they don’t even look like machines. Did you notice the engraving on the front?”
“Yes. Some sort of Chinese face. But it looks weird.”
“I’ve seen that before. I remember Mr. Tho teaching me about the terracotta warriors they found buried by the first Chinese emperor. It looks like that.”
“Why would that be engraved into the machines?”
Minh plopped his empty bowl on top of hers. “I have no idea.”
“What a mess.”
“What?” asked Minh.
“This. What we’ve gotten ourselves into. Sitting here doing nothing inside this prison. My father is missing or dead, and yours is …” She didn’t finish the sentence.
“Mine is what?”
“You know.”
“What do you mean to say? Traitor?”
“I’m just saying…”
“You’re just saying what?”
“Forget it.”
“How can I forget it? My father is a traitor, but that is not my father. That’s not the man who raised me. I don’t know what’s going on, but he would never turn from the rebellion.”
“But that is your father, right?” Minh didn’t reply. “The way he walks, talks … the way he looks. He is your father.”
Minh turned away. He didn’t need to say anything else.
“I’m sorry,” said Nhan.
Minh slapped the floor with the palm of his hand. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”
A long, drawn-out pause passed between them. It was a mess, Minh admitted to himself. He thought of his mother, the last time he had seen her, as the wall of the facility slammed shut, cutting them off—fear written on her face. That’s the last thing he remembered about his mother. Fear. A look he wasn’t used to.
“You know,” Nhan broke the silence. “If you hadn’t have come to the rebel base, I would have been there when it was attacked. I could be dead right now.”
“But you’re not. You’re alive in the most secure Chinese prison in history.”
“I’d rather be here with you than dead. Besides, you’ve already escaped from the most secure Chinese prison in history. So, yeah.”
Minh smiled and accepted the bizarre compliment. He was preferable to death, a thought he cherished a little too much. He liked the way she looked. Maybe she likes me. Stop. He screamed internally for the little voice to shut up. It did, but his actual mouth had something to say.
“I’m glad you’re here too, rather than being dead.”
They almost smiled at each other, eye to eye, when the wall slid into the ceiling once more. Minh’s father returned.
“Minh?”
The boy turned his head away.
“There’s no need for you to be in here. How could you sleep on this dreaded floor?”
That’s all his father had to say? He worried about his son’s sleeping habits? Minh refused to turn his eyes in his father’s direction.
“Come, Minh. I want to show you something.”
“No.”
“Come. Trust me.”
“I don’t trust you. Not anymore.”
“If you come with me, I think you’ll understand. And don’t worry about your friend. She’ll be fine here.”
“Just like the rebel base is fine? I know what happened.”
“You know, huh?”
“Yes, I know a lot of things.” Minh sprang to his feet, chest out, confident and secure in the knowledge of the past, he looked his father in the eye. “I know you’re a traitor.”
His father half-laughed. “You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you? I’m sure you got that from me. But my eyes have been opened, Minh. I want to show you something more. Come with me.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“If you want a choice, I’ll give you one.”
“What do you want me to see?”
“I want to show you how one night can change a city.”
Nhan walked over to Minh and placed her hand on his. “Go. Do it for … You know.”
He gazed down at the hand and noticed how it felt next to his. He looked up at her and nodded. Their hands pulled apart, and he walked toward his father, who invited him through the opening using his hand to point the way. Minh looked back. Nhan nudged him on. The confidence in her eyes encouraged him to walk out with his father and leave her alone.
Several corridors down, they entered the large hall where Lady Trieu had destroyed the batch of the armored vehicles with her sword. Now the hall sat empty, a shell without vehicles or people, except for a handful of soldiers milling around the two remaining armored cars. One soldier saluted Minh’s father, the traitor, the man who could shake off a lifetime of loyalty without a hint of regret. A man who could climb the ranks of the occupation army and accept salutes from the filthy Chinese soldiers within a year. This fact alone made Minh wonder how deep the treachery of his father went, and the salute made Minh hate him even more.
The soldier opened the door to the topless vehicle, and Minh’s father motioned him into the back seat. His father sat beside him, and the soldier climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Minh, before we go, I want to prepare you for what you’re about to see. It’s not pleasant, but it’s necessary. The sacrifice for peace must never be underestimated. You will see.”
Minh never looked at his father even as he spoke. All he could think about was if he should try to escape, if the opportunity arose. But if he did, would he ever see Nhan again? And, as his reasoning came back around, didn’t he want to be in the facility, to find Lady Trieu?
The vehicle pulled out of the massive hall and into the sunlight of a hot Hanoi morning. The wall around the facility had been removed. There was no longer a guard post or anything resembling security. The vehicle merged onto the wide avenue lined with old French villas. Everything looked in order to Minh, but the streets were empty except for a select few pedestrians, who kept their heads down and gazed straight ahead. He noticed a truck pass with its bed covered in a blue tarp. A Chinese soldier drove it, and he saluted Minh’s vehicle. Minh’s father spoke something to the driver in Chinese. The driver veered to the right and passed Lenin Square toward the Old Quarter.
“You speak Chinese?” Minh asked his father in a confused tone.
“Yes.”
“I never heard you speak Chinese.”
“Remember, your grandmother was Chinese, and I learned it in school.”
Minh studied his father, but didn’t say anything more. His father gave the driver a command, and the car turned down the street where Minh had been just the night before, where he and Nhan had met with the rebel cell before they were accosted on the street by their own people.
The vehicle stopped at the entrance to the street. Minh stood up in shock at the scene. Bodies lay scattered and face down. Pools of blood had gathered at the edges of a clogged street drain. Debris from the houses, felled walls, shattered glass, garbage, trees, and branches made the street unnavigable. The machines stood guard every hundred feet, watching over the Vietnamese residents who cleared the debris and gathered the bodies. Another of the trucks they had passed with the blue tarp was parked halfway down the street—the cleared part—and older men swung bodies onto the truck’s bed, while two others stacked them. The blue tarp lay over the cab readied to be pulled back to cover the deeds.
Minh noticed an old woman standing thirty feet in front of him. She knelt down at the side of one of the corpses, leaned over and kissed it on the cheek. She wiped her face and picked up a small branch and placed it in a larger pile of debris next to her.
Minh chocked on his words, though there was nothing to say. He wiped his face of the tears. These were not tears of a boy, not tears of fear for what might happen to him. These were tears of understanding and realizing how foolish he was to feel excitement for wanting to help Tho and his mother in the rebellion. The reality of war had settled upon him. How could any of the rebels he met with last night have escaped from this street? Perhaps their bodies laid still in the truck he had passed. Zeal results in death, as does everything. Now he understood.
“I wanted you to see this, Minh. I know it’s difficult. But you must realize that you and your friend Nhan would be two of those bodies you see right now if we didn’t allow you to escape.”
Minh turned his head toward his father in anger.
“Allowed us?”
“Oh, you don’t think the machines couldn’t have finished you last night like the rest if they had wanted to? They knew who you were. They called you by name, and they led you right to me.”
He reached over and put his hand on Minh’s shoulder. Minh jerked away from him, and his father smiled.
“I know you’re upset. Perhaps you’re too young to understand all of this. It’s rather complicated, I know. But you’re my son, and I want you on the side of peace. On the side of progress. You have your whole life ahead of you, and it may not feel like it now, but it’s a promising life. A fulfilling one.”
“And what of mother?”
“Oh, she will understand.”
“She will never understand this. She will never understand you.”
“Minh, it will take time, but—”
“Not in a thousand years would she bow down to this. Killing our own people.”
“The passion is deep in you, son. That’s a good thing. You’re not so different from me.”
“You’re wrong. We’re nothing alike.”
“We shall see.” Minh’s father spoke to the driver, and the vehicle backed out of the street and turned in the opposite direction.
Minh noticed similar scenes on other streets. Some had been scrubbed and cleaned while others were in the throes of making the inhabitants pay for the price for someone else’s crime. Minh’s stomach churned. He wanted to bolt, to jump out of the vehicle and disappear into a small alleyway.
They rounded the tip of Hoan Kiem Lake, a sight that made Minh’s heart leap. He couldn’t remove his eyes from the center of the lake and hoped Lady Trieu saw him. But he also questioned her. How could she have let this happen? If she really was still alive, why didn’t she intervene in the attack on the rebel base and on the unprecedented night of terror? His unanswered questions would have to wait because they turned down Hang Bac Street—his home. The street was neat and clean, with no blood-stained drains and no pocked marked walls signifying a gun fight. Several of his neighbors walked out onto the street at the same time to greet the vehicle. Minh’s father stepped out and greeted people by name. He asked Auntie Linh if she was still selling pho in the morning market. He talked with Mr. Thao, a former policeman, and they chatted about the last time they had seen each other. Everyone greeted Minh’s father with kindness and respect. They smiled and laughed and … the most shocking one of all … old Mrs. Gia even thanked the man for his sacrifice to the cause. She thanked him. The Sino-Vietnamese Unification insignia on Minh’s father’s shirt was as plain as day. He had arrived in a Chinese vehicle driven by a Chinese soldier. They all knew what side he had chosen, and here they were, all of Minh’s neighbors, the ones who saw him grow up, the ones who interacted with Mr. Tho and his mother on a daily basis. Here they were, praising the traitor for his sacrifice.
Minh stood from the back of the vehicle and jumped over the edge onto the street. His neighbors swarmed him in kindness, praising the boy for following in his father’s footsteps, and saying how wonderful it will be to turn the page of this horrific chapter and write a new story of peace for the future. Minh couldn’t speak. He was passed from person to person like an overwhelmed puppy in the midst of familiar strangers.
Former policeman Thao spoke, “You must be so proud of your father.”
Minh’s tongue felt like it swelled up in his mouth, like it choked him, like he was being cascaded with so many lies they began to feel normal, like he should feel happy to see people joyful and appreciative.
Minh’s father thanked them all and stated that his family hoped to be back in their house soon. Then he instructed Minh back into the vehicle. Minh obeyed on command, having not said a word to his fake neighbors. They had to be fake, he thought, or all hope was now lost. Minh couldn’t decide which was more shocking: the streets with dead bodies or the street with his neighbors espousing dastardly lies as if speaking basic truths of nature.
“I have one more thing to show you, Minh.”
They backtracked the route, past the street from the previous night, and past the facility. They pulled into the southern end of Ba Dinh Square, the massive central square which housed the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum and other important government buildings. But Minh barely recognized it. He had been there a hundred times. He had ridden his bicycle on countless occasions around the square, but now he wondered how it could look so different. A massive wall had been constructed on the west side, completely blocking the view of the mausoleum. But even that paled to what had happened in the middle of the square. Thousands of machines—those same machines—had constructed a massive complex, which towered over every building in the square. The side of the building had an elaborate piece of art showing the Vietnamese-Chinese unification symbol.
“How is this possible,” he asked.
“Impressive, isn’t it? One night. This is what we can do in once night.”
Minh made a mental note of the word ‘we.’ His father had been completely corrupted by the Chinese.
“There’s no stopping us. We will rebuild this city, this country, into something we can all be proud of, and I want you to be by my side. Now, I don’t expect you to say yes right away. I know what I’ve shown you has been a shock. But once you have time to reflect upon all that you’ve witnessed, you’ll understand why I chose to join the winning side. We will be on the forefront of the future, not relying on the past anymore. Look at these magical machines. Is there anything they cannot do?”
“What are they?”
“All will be revealed at the right time. All I need from you, Minh, is your help in locating your mother and Mr. Tho.”
Minh’s spine straightened into the back of the seat.
“I need to talk with your mother. And, Minh, Mr. Tho needs to return the tablets that do not rightfully belong to him.”
On the word ‘tablet,’ Minh instinctively patted his pocket with his right hand. He knew immediately that he had given it away.
“Why did you do that?”’
“No reason.”
“Show me what’s in your pocket.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Show me.” Minh’s father reached over and put his hand on the outside of Minh’s pocket. Then he laughed. “It’s empty, silly boy. Now, will you help me find your mother?”
“I don’t know where she is.”
“But you have ways to find out, I’m sure.”
“No, I don’t. And even if I did, I would never help you.”
“Minh, I’m your father.”
“I will never help you. Take me back to the facility.”
“There’s no need for any of that. You can stay here with me in the new building.”
“No.” The answer came quick. “Take me back to the facility.”
“Very well. I suppose you need time to ruminate about all that you’ve witnessed today, Minh. Then you’ll know what to do.”
The vehicle turned around, and Minh glanced at the indistinguishable Ba Dinh Square one last time. When the vehicle pulled into the open lot of the facility, Minh saw the row of hedges which had helped him escape once. He jumped from the vehicle and ran toward them. Within seconds, machines surrounded him on all sides.
His father walked over. “Minh, there’s no escape. The city is wired through the machines. They know every move you make. So make your next move carefully. I’ll be back tomorrow to see if you have changed your mind.”
He nodded at the machines, and they pushed Minh into the facility, down the corridor, and into the same cell, but as he entered, he noticed that Nhan wasn’t there.