A3-09 The Last Call

You do not press the button immediately, nor do you give up.

You do something no one anticipated — you open the communication channel.

"Trisolaran listeners," you speak into the microphone, your voice trembling slightly from adrenaline, "I am Earth's Swordholder, Cheng Xin. I know you are watching me in real time through the sophons. I have something to say to you."

The countdown reads eleven minutes.

Silence. You aren't sure the Trisolarans will respond. Sophon communication is instantaneous — not limited by the speed of light — but whether the Trisolarans are willing to engage in dialogue at this moment is another matter entirely.

Five seconds later, a response comes. The voice synthesized by the sophons — emotionless yet mimicking human intonation — fills the chamber:

"Cheng Xin. We are listening."

"Why did you attack?" you ask. "Deterrence is still in effect. I have the button. Why would you gamble that I won't press it?"

Three seconds of silence. Then:

"Because you won't."

"How do you know?"

"We have observed you for two hundred years. From the moment you proposed the Staircase Project, we have been watching you. Every choice, every expression, every hesitation — the sophons recorded it all. You are a good person, Cheng Xin. Good people do not destroy two worlds."

Your hand involuntarily grips the armrest beside the button.

"Luo Ji was different. He abandoned his humanity sixty years ago. He truly would have pressed it. So we waited sixty-two years. Waited for him to age. Waited for humanity to elect someone we were certain would not press it." "You are that person."

Countdown: eight minutes.

You feel an icy chill climbing up your spine. What they say is the truth. You know it. You've always known. From the moment you ran for Swordholder, deterrence was already crumbling.

But you cannot let them be certain their judgment is correct.

"You've made an error," you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. "There is a blind spot in your observations — you cannot comprehend human deception. Your thinking is transparent. You do not understand that a person can appear, in every outward expression, to be kind, gentle, hesitant — while inside, she is prepared to destroy everything."

"You've observed me for two hundred years — but you have only seen my surface."

Silence. A longer silence. You can feel the Trisolaran world processing your words from four light-years away.

Six minutes later —

"You are bluffing."

Four words. An ice-cold judgment.

Your bluff has been called. Or more precisely — the Trisolarans don't care whether you're bluffing or not. They've already made their assessment. They've placed their bet.

Countdown: four minutes.

Your last attempt has failed. The choice you face now is the same as four minutes ago —