SOP CH5: City of Disorder

At eight o’clock in the morning, the neon lights opened for business one after another, emitting a red glow like the morning sun. The large plaza in the lower tier was packed with sheet-metal carts covered in waterproof tarps, resembling fish scales when viewed from a distance.

Diamonds and Quicksand walked out of the bar together. Diamonds was a nocturnal creature, looking as if he could never wake up, practically needing toothpicks to prop his eyelids open. Quicksand had no clothes to wear, using the star-patterned pajamas as a jacket over his sleeveless black vest, which gave him a bit of a roguish air that suited the lower tier quite well.

The two came to a halt in the center of the plaza. Diamonds unwrapped a piece of bubblegum, popped it into his mouth, and chewed listlessly.

“Little shrimp, remember anything yet?”

“No.”

“If you can’t remember, don’t force it. Continuing to be a know-nothing fool isn’t so bad either. Your memory is like Pandora’s box; once opened, who knows what will jump out. What if you remember you’re a time cleaner? I wouldn’t know how to explain that to Madam Spades.”

Quicksand listened blankly, and after a moment, asked, “What kind of people are time cleaners?”

Only then did Diamonds remember that the other was completely addled, his memory as clean as a blank sheet of paper. He replied leisurely:

“To us, they’re bad people. They appear out of nowhere, declare that you’ll harm the Time Entropy Group’s interests thirty years from now, stab you once, and walk away. Running dogs and killers kept by the Group. Knowing this, what kind of people do you think they are?”

Quicksand said, “Incomprehensible people.”

“Precisely. Though in their eyes, none of us count as human anyway, probably no different from rats.”

The two stepped into the dense steam. Every sheet-metal cart in the plaza was a tiny mobile stall selling rice noodle rolls, water chestnut cakes, and bread. The variety of food was dazzling, like a museum. Quicksand thought that these meals were neither exquisite nor prepared in a sterile environment, yet they possessed a rough, mouth-watering magic.

Diamonds sauntered over to a stall. Seeing him, the proprietress greeted him warmly and familiarly. Diamonds switched to his business smile and dished out sweet talk. Prices here were low; a bowl of hot porridge could be bought for four minutes of lifespan. Before long, Diamonds walked back to Quicksand holding two drinks and handed him one.

“What is this?”

Diamonds said, “Coffee.”

Quicksand took a sip and immediately spat it out. It was a terrifying bitterness, a single drop capable of making every taste bud instantly collapse and surrender. Quicksand stuck his tongue out repeatedly. “This isn’t coffee.”

Diamonds nibbled on his straw. “Chinese coffee, coptis tea. I ordered a large concentrated brew for you. Why are you sticking your tongue out? This doesn’t even count as bitter. Life, after all, is far more bitter than this.” Quicksand threw a merciless punch at him, but Diamonds dodged it. A little white liquid spilled from Diamonds’s cup; he was drinking soy milk.

As they walked, the streetscape receded beside them like flowing water. Even during the day, there was no sunlight in the lower tier. Signboards flickered, their colors rising and falling like Tetris blocks, at times reminiscent of a television screen with no signal. Diamonds suddenly asked, “How much lifespan balance do you have left?”

Quicksand raised his hand to look at the watch Madam Spades had given him. There were forty hours left in his temporary account. When he first appeared in the scrapyard with nothing to his name, he had already forgotten the account where his original lifespan was kept. Diamonds said:

“Most people carry transaction terminals on them. Lower-tier folks usually only have a day or two of time, needing to work to the bone to scrape together time, or else they’ll die right here.”

His gaze casually flicked to the side. Following his line of sight, Quicksand saw beggars lying sprawled haphazardly along the road, their eyes wide and lifeless, resembling broken mannequins from a display window.

Diamonds then looked into the distance toward a skyscraper spiraling upward. “The upper-tier people are different, though. There are many wealthy folks there who can live for centuries. Once you save up enough time, you can go there and apply to the Group to ascend to the higher levels, where the elevators leading up are located. But dregs of the bottom tier like us, with neither a roof over our heads nor an inch of earth beneath our feet, get stripped of our property for various reasons long before saving enough time. I advise you not to hold any illusions about the Group either. Besides, this place is the rebels’ home base; nobody wants to wag their tail and beg the Group for scraps.”

Quicksand asked, “Are you part of the Clepsydra rebels too?”

Diamonds chewed his gum and blew a bubble. “No, I’m not. Clepsydra looks down on me. I’m just non-staff.”

“Where do Clepsydra’s people come from?”

“People resentful of the Group, people dumped into some time point by the Group who survived until now, or people who secretly used time-jump technology to get here. In short, Clepsydra is full of people like that.”

Diamonds continued:

“Look around, though. We’re currently in the year 2026, where we can only use weapons like guns and artillery at best. Time cleaners are enemies from the future, wielding weapons on an entirely different dimension from ours. Capabilities like detonating space and halting time are commonplace for them. Fighting them is like Don Quixote charging a windmill, or Confucius battling Godzilla.”

Quicksand looked toward the Mauser at Diamonds’s waist. That gun could spit out bubbles that stopped time, likely confiscated from a time cleaner. The conflict between the Clepsydra rebels and the Time Entropy Group was fundamentally a war between the past and the future.

“So now, time has become a commodity, as well as a geographic division. The goal of the Clepsydra rebels is to return time to a linear state, forging a new timeline starting from 2026 to welcome a future free from the Group’s rule.”

“What if the Time Entropy Group sends cleaners jumping back to a more distant past to strangle you all in the cradle?”

As if hearing an amusing joke, Diamonds arched an eyebrow and smiled. “They can’t do it. They currently cannot jump to any point in time prior to 2026.”

“Why?”

Quicksand was utterly ignorant of everything in the lower tier. Diamonds looked toward the sky and patiently explained it to him, finding a sort of prenatal-education joy in the process. “Do you know about the Time Labyrinth? After the Time Entropy Group monopolized time-jump technology, they exiled dissenters to backward eras and dispatched time cleaners to alter timelines unfavorable to them. This led to a bizarre phenomenon: people from the future could alter the past at will, while people from the past knew the future.”

He linked his fingers together, his thumbs and index fingers forming a loop.

“Consequently, the timeline is currently in utter chaos. The world we live in does not advance time linearly; the past and the future have woven into a circular timeline. When the timeline of a particular year becomes entangled to the extreme, that place collapses, forming a labyrinth composed of looped timelines.”

To Quicksand, this sounded like complete gibberish. In the end, he shook his head glumly. “That isn’t scientific.”

Diamonds said, “Given your infant-like brain, it’s probably hard to grasp the principles behind it, which is why I used some not-so-scientific rhetorical devices to explain it to you. In short, the year 2026 is trapped in such a time labyrinth. Time-jump technology cannot jump to eras prior to that, which is why the Group no longer dares to toss dissenters back to the Cretaceous period, and why the rebels are concentrated in 2026.”

“Of course, forcibly jumping back to the past isn’t entirely impossible, but it comes at an immense price, like plunging naked into a high-speed industrial shredder. At best, your body gets torn to pieces; at worst… even I don’t know the consequences,” Diamonds said, blowing another bubble. “Time cleaners are painstaking masterpieces cultivated by the Group at massive expense. They have to hold several major conferences and get unanimous executive approval before deciding to send these high-precision killing machines on a one-way mission.”

Quicksand nodded. “I understand. The year 2026 is like a house number, and you all live here.”

Diamonds smiled faintly. The two paused on a pedestrian overpass. Countless fine lights rushed toward them like shifting silver sand, flowing and churning. He turned to Quicksand. “Since years have become house numbers and lifespans have become commodities, what do you think time actually is to us right now?”

Without waiting for Quicksand to reply, he answered himself: “The time we experience right now is all time within our consciousness. There’s a concept called ‘time perception,’ the awareness of the duration and sequence of objective events. For instance, when doing something agonizing, even if only one minute has passed, it feels like years, doesn’t it? The time we experience now is your perceived time, not one minute of real time, but ten minutes in your consciousness. In this chaotic world, the time we experience is an illusion. Perhaps only by returning to the primordial state can the order of time be rebuilt. That is the goal Clepsydra is striving for.”

Quicksand chewed on his words, and ultimately shook his head honestly. “I don’t understand.”

Diamonds patted his shoulder. “It’s fine if you don’t. This world is just baffling like that.”

Walking through the alleys, pipes ran in rigid grids, and the ground was illuminated bright red by signboards, feeling like walking over a red-hot iron wok. Diamonds led Quicksand past shop after shop, asking if anything looked familiar. Quicksand’s mind was a blur, his answers halting and vague, unable to explain anything.

Diamonds gradually lost focus. Whenever he saw familiar older women or regular female patrons from the bar, he went up to banter, chatting merrily about how they should doll themselves up with smokey eyeshadow, trendy cybernetics, and fluorescent tattoos. Seeing him flirting around, Quicksand felt an unsettled irritation in his chest, grabbed his collar, and demanded, “You agreed to spend the day with me. What are you doing?”

“You can’t remember a single thing, so I’ve already lost hope in your brain. Their heads work better than yours; I was asking if they remembered seeing you,” Diamonds mused, toying with a bottle of charcoal black makeup greasepaint he had obtained from a female patron. “You lost your memory from getting hit on the head, right? Wonder if knocking your noggin one more time will make you remember?”

Quicksand stated icily, “Boss, my head isn’t an old television set. Slapping it won’t fix it.”

As they walked side by side, Quicksand caught sight of a billboard beside Diamonds: a face painted white, a short plush hat adorned with spinels, a crisp white suit, and a sparkling diamond stud below the eye. A clown surrounded by swarms of drifting balloons and playing cards bowed to the audience on stage, wild and flamboyant.

Noticing his gaze, Diamonds followed his line of sight and smiled immediately. “What’s up?” Quicksand said, “That animated character looks a lot like you.”

“I look like that character. Haven’t you seen it? The animated show ‘Ace Clown,’ popular across both upper and lower tiers.” Diamonds performed the exact same curtain call bow as the character.

Quicksand stared at the lively character on the billboard. His heart suddenly pounded uncontrollably, as though a love for this character had long been etched into his very bones. He asked Diamonds, “Is your outfit actually a cosplay?”

“Yeah. After all, it’s a timeless animated character. ‘Ace Clown’ is a hero who defeats villains using tricks like folding balloon animals, juggling balls, and pulling things from empty bags, bringing laughter and justice to children. I’m a fan too.”

“I thought you were cosplaying Michael Jackson from the ‘Smooth Criminal’ music video.”

“Yes, on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, I cosplay Michael Jackson.”

Diamonds stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Seeing as you’re quite fond of this character too, how about I exchange all your future wages for anime merchandise?”

Quicksand said, “If you dare do that, I’ll punch you into a flat playing card.”

Gradually, they ventured into a dark alleyway. Dilapidated billboards emitted buzzing electrical currents, sounding like moths getting scorched against hot lamps. People with fluorescent tattoos crouched in the corners, expressions hostile, their faces pickled to a muddy hue by the dim light. Sensing something amiss, Quicksand glanced sideways at Diamonds.

As if sensing his suspicion, Diamonds spoke before he could ask: “Further ahead is the slum. I figured you might have grown up there, so walking around might trigger some memories.”

“I suspect that before I remember anything, we’ll be robbed clean first.”

As if fulfilling his prediction, someone suddenly charged forward brandishing a shovel, shouting frantically:

“Robbery! Hand over the time… hand over the time, or I’ll crack your skulls open!”

Diamonds and Quicksand looked at each other, then glanced around. Diamonds asked, “Who are you robbing?”

“Huh?” The mugger was baffled. Diamonds pointed at Quicksand and asked again, “Robbing me, or robbing him?”

“B-both?”

“Too greedy, pal. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Diamonds turned to Quicksand, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you let him rob you? Doesn’t your head need a beating anyway? Let him hit you with the shovel, and maybe your memory will return.”

Before the sentence even finished, Quicksand clamped Diamonds’s head in his grip and slammed it directly into the mugger’s skull.

Diamonds felt a massive explosion detonate inside his head, fireworks bursting across his vision as stars danced wildly. He and the mugger crashed to the ground together. After a long moment, he scrambled up and yelled, “What the hell did you do that for!”

Quicksand looked at him coldly. “Doesn’t Boss have no hope for my brain? Even if I took a blow, I surely wouldn’t recover my memory. But Boss’s brilliant brain is different; a good knock might help you remember something.”

Diamonds said venomously, “Yes, I remembered the fact that you are an utterly vicious criminal.”

The mugger was also seeing stars from the impact. Letting out a cold huff, Diamonds vented his frustration with Quicksand onto the mugger, kicking the shovel aside, pulling off the man’s belt, and tying him up swiftly. Once the mugger cleared his head and saw the two standing beside him like menacing fiends, he kowtowed repeatedly in sheer cowardice:

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, bosses! I was truly at the end of my rope to do something so disrespectful to you… I was scammed by the Group’s loan sharks. My house is sold, my family is scattered, and thirty years of my future lifespan are mortgaged. My balance only has two hours left, and I won’t even live through today…”

“That is no excuse to turn to crime. If you’ve got the guts, go join Clepsydra, kick down the Group’s doors, and demand your thirty years back.”

Diamonds pulled out his watch, tapped it casually a few times, transferred two hours of time to the man, and said, “Let’s go, black-hearted employee.”

The mugger stared blankly at their departing backs, momentarily forgetting how to move.

After taking a few steps, Quicksand suddenly grabbed Diamonds’s wrist, his gaze frigid as ice. “Give me back my time.”

“What?” Diamonds feigned ignorance.

“The time you just transferred to that mugger was paid from my account, wasn’t it?” Quicksand held out an open palm expressionlessly. Just moments ago, Diamonds had slipped the watch Madam Spades gave him right off his wrist without a sound. “Give it back.”

“Why talk about borrowing and returning between gege and didi like us? Just deduct it from your future wages,” Diamonds said without an ounce of shame, slinging an arm over Quicksand’s shoulder.

Quicksand didn’t appreciate the sentiment and struck him with a hard punch.

The two continued wandering aimlessly through the alleys. As they walked, Quicksand recalled the mugger they had just encountered. Diamonds’s nonchalant reaction indicated that such occurrences were common in the lower tier. Many had no future, merely dragging out their feeble existence in forgotten corners.

Diamonds led him through the slums, where sewage ran freely. Frail, elderly-looking figures in flip-flops curled up on nylon sacks, sorting paint cans and grinding plastic, like mold thriving beneath neon lights. Diamonds pointed at one of them and asked:

“Take a guess, how old is that person?”

Quicksand looked closely. It was an emaciated, sallow-skinned old woman with prominent joints, sitting beneath a windowsill gluing bone cores onto scrap leather. Diamonds’s question wouldn’t be without reason, so Quicksand guessed cautiously, “Forty… thirty years old?”

“She’s ten,” Diamonds said, his eyes detached, yet concealing a trace of sorrow.

Quicksand fell silent.

He scanned the elderly-looking figure carefully from head to toe. “It doesn’t look like it. Why did she end up like this?”

“She overextended her body’s time in advance, perhaps in exchange for a few mouthfuls of food and water, or perhaps someone else used it as collateral. So around here, never judge a person’s age by what your eyes see; an old man with a full head of white hair might not even be a month old.”

Quicksand said nothing. He watched those aged children burying their heads in rough labor, the signboards behind them flickering with varied advertisements: “Braintech Sensory Cybernetics, an eternal helper, launching in 2036. Pre-order now for free neural synchronization calibration!” and “Red Energy Pill, one tablet rewrites the hypothalamus, instant vitality!” He recognized that these advertisements were from the future.

The Time Entropy Group’s advertising department had once projected billboards into the seventeenth-century Enlightenment era, leaving the people of that time astonished, revering them as divine miracles. They sought to implant memories of their commodities into people’s minds centuries in advance, even while the people trapped in those dark eras barely had enough food to fill their bellies.

Quicksand suddenly quickened his pace. It felt as if a small insect were burrowing and gnawing inside his chest; wherever it chewed quickly turned rotten and bitter. The sights before his eyes made him uncomfortable. Could his heart be malfunctioning?

“What’s wrong? Why walk so fast all of a sudden?”

Without turning his head, Quicksand said, “Nothing. Just in a bad mood.”

“Don’t tell me you feel sympathy for them? What is there to sympathize with? This is reality,” Diamonds caught up with brisk steps. “Sympathy isn’t needed. All we need is anger capable of changing reality.”

It wasn’t obvious at first glance, but beneath his seemingly cynical exterior, this man held quite a rebellious, indignant worldview. Quicksand looked toward him, but only found that customary shallow smile on his face. Suddenly, Diamonds grabbed Quicksand’s wrist, pulling him into a narrow alleyway.

“What is it?”

Diamonds pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him. Pressed tightly against each other like climbing ivy, they peered furtively out of the alley. A figure clad in a black cloak and wearing a Venetian carnival mask was slowly walking toward the slums.

The person was tall, gripping the hilt of a laser sword, radiating thick killing intent. Seeing this, Diamonds whispered:

“A time cleaner.”

A slight prick of pain suddenly shot through Quicksand’s head. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What is a time cleaner doing here?”

“If nothing unexpected happens, he’s here to kill someone. They are grim reapers, after all.”

The time cleaner walked toward the group of children with the appearance of the elderly, his steps firm and precise, as if every stride had been measured. Quicksand watched him approach the aged girl cutting leather, his finger resting on the laser sword’s activation switch, murderous intent clear.

Quicksand’s chest tightened. Why kill a filthy child who had barely lived a few years in this world and was already decrepit? She was so frail that every bone beneath her skin seemed visible, her claw-like hands struggling to move, her chest heaving with loud breaths. Could a child like this truly obstruct the Group’s future profits?

Noticing the fleeting hesitation in his eyes, Diamonds suddenly tugged at his sleeve.

“Employee, go fish for some information from that cleaner. See what he’s actually trying to do.”

“Fish for information? How?”

“Pretend to be his colleague, greet him, and say you’re also a time cleaner executing a mission in the lower tier.”

“Easy for Boss to say. How do I know what his colleague looks like?”

Quicksand saw a glint of amusement in Diamonds’s eyes, knowing he had cooked up another mischievous scheme. Sure enough, after a brief moment, the corners of Diamonds’s mouth curled into a sly smirk:

“He looks just like you.”

Quicksand stared at him expressionlessly, looking completely baffled.

“I’ve seen the Time Entropy Group’s chief cleaner before. Your build is very similar to his.”

Diamonds smiled pleasantly, patting his shoulder.

“How about this: go chat up that cleaner, tell him you’re his colleague, and your code name is ‘Quicksand’.”