Skinner's Box (Fang Mu (Eastern Crimes)) (40 page)

The question seemed to have snapped Teacher Zhou awake. He stared wildly at Fang Mu for a moment, but soon regained his composure.

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you that, for now. But if you give me a few days, I'll definitely get to the bottom of this matter." Teacher Zhou spoke earnestly. "I sowed the seeds of this evil; please, give me a chance to make things right."

Fang Mu glared at him for several seconds. Slowly he said, "All right. Keep in touch." With that he turned to leave. But on his way out the door, he suddenly turned and asked quietly, "By the way, what was the name of the volunteer who raped Shen Xiang?"

"Wang Zengxiang. He worked in a waterworks company back then." Teacher Zhou was sitting still, staring into a dark corner of the room. "I'm sorry. I should have had the courage to report him to the police years ago."

The sky, having carried its burden patiently all day, finally let loose in a flurry of snowflakes. The snow came harder and harder until the world was lost in a vast expanse of white. Fang Mu parked by the side of the road and made a call back to the task force investigators to search for Wang Zengxiang, and stressed repeatedly that if they discovered his whereabouts, they were to set up 24-hour surveillance on him, because he was undoubtedly Luo Jiahai's target. After that Fang Mu ended the call, turned off his cell phone, and leaned listlessly against the car seat with his eyes closed. After a moment's thought, he turned his phone back on, and sure enough, just then Bian Ping called to ask what in the hell this Wang Zengxiang business was all about. Fang Mu explained he would tell him about it when he got back to the precinct. Bian Ping must have sensed that Fang Mu was not in the best of moods, because all he said was to drive carefully, and then hung up.

In front of him, the sky appeared to hang so low that it would hit the city, and the suburban street seemed to wind its way straight into the black clouds ahead. A little ways behind him, Angel Hall was already thoroughly obscured behind a blur of snow; no matter how hard he squinted, he could not make out the little star-like lights of its windows.

Angel Hall. Indoctrination Field.

Fang Mu repeated the words over and over to himself until he suddenly understood why Teacher Zhou had wanted to name the orphanage 'Angel Hall.' Angels had wings that could help them fly free from indoctrination, free from stain.

He stepped on the accelerator and the jeep struggled forward along the snow-strewn street. As he passed through the suburb, the normally bright lights from downtown grew vaguely discernible through the falling snow. The swath of pure white that had linked the sky and the earth just moments ago suddenly turned to an oppressive dull gray that dropped down heavily to cover the city like a giant iron pot.

It was not cold inside the jeep, but as he drove closer and closer to downtown Fang Mu could not help but shiver.

He thought about Huang Yongxiao, about Ma Kai, about Sun Pu, about Summer…

This city was one giant, perilous Skinner Box.

CHAPTER
33
So-Called Fate

"...O
kay, I'm sure we'll create a nicer world. Goodbye." As Yang Jincheng hung up, a big smile stretched across his face. He leaned back against the broad, comfortable leather chair, gazed at the ceiling, and could not keep from laughing out loud.

He would soon arrive at the apex of his life.

The thought made him glance around the little room unconsciously, feeling suddenly reluctant to part with it. This was a tiny secret chamber attached to his office; no one knew of its existence but he and his mentor. And years ago, this was the very room in which their great project had been born and step by step brought into fruition. As Yang Jincheng traced a finger along the slight signs of tear on the old chair and desk, his heart surged with emotion. Years from now, perhaps this place would be just like the basement of William James Hall, where the original Skinner's Box was kept: A holy land to which future generations of psychologists would pay their adoring homage.

Yang Jincheng drifted for a while, immersing himself in his fantasies, but soon recovered his everyday work face, sat up straight in his chair, and reached to turn on the computer.

Moments later a video window appeared on the screen. The view was of the inside of his own office. He clicked the fast-forward button at the bottom of the window and watched himself moving with comic speed in the chair behind his desk, then get up, wander around the office, walk out the door, come back, and then go back out again.

Suddenly he saw the person he wanted to monitor. After Yang Jincheng left through the door, the video showed a man slipping into the office, glancing around, and then sitting casually in the big leather chair behind the desk. He swiveled around in it a couple of times, the expression on his face every bit as gleeful as Yang Jincheng's had been just a moment ago. Even more appalling, the video actually showed the man picking up Yang Jincheng's 20,000-yuan tea cup and taking a couple of sips from it. If anyone else had been looking at this, they would probably assume this leisurely fellow was Yang Jincheng himself.

Yang Jincheng snorted, saved the video, and got up to leave.

As he exited the secret chamber, he pressed the button to make the bookshelves on the wall slide back into place. In the center of the bookshelves was an extremely faint red point of light, indicating that the video camera was working. Yang Jincheng smiled and made a V with his fingers at it.

Straightening his white overcoat, Yang Jincheng was about to make the rounds one last time for the evening and had just placed his hand on the doorknob when he heard a commotion in the hallway on the other side of the door.

Two security guards were wrestling with a shabbily-dressed old man, who was struggling as hard as he could to break free and shouting obscenities.

Chen Zhe had placed himself in front of the old man and was explaining in a voice full of both patience and annoyance. "I'm sorry, but you cannot see Director Yang without an appointment…"

"Let him go!" Yang Jincheng's voice rang out.

Chen Zhe turned to see Yang Jincheng standing in the door to his office with a stunned look on his face.

"Director Yang, he..."Chen Zhe rushed to explain.

Without even looking at his assistant, Yang Jincheng strode forward, took the old man by the hand, and pumped it up and down vigorously. "Professor Zhou, what brings you here?"

The old man wore a look of cold indifference, but there was nothing but excitement on Yang Jincheng's face. He turned to Chen Zhe and the two security guards. "From now on, if you see this man, you are to treat him with every bit of respect you show me, understood?"

The two security guards nodded sheepishly, and Chen Zhe muttered in embarrassment. "Director Yang, in that case I'll go set up the reception room…"

"No need." Teacher Zhou turned to Yang Jincheng, the look on his face still icy cold. "Jincheng, I need a word with you. Alone."

Momentarily at a loss for words, Yang Jincheng smiled and spread his hands. "All right. Let's go find somewhere and have a chat then."

The Jinhui Bathhouse was practically deserted. Because the police had recently cracked down on prostitution and a number of related illegal activities, business there was slow and cheerless compared to former days.

There were only three customers in the whole enormous bathing room. One was a young man with a towel in his hand, taking a shower with his face to the wall. The other two were lying on their backs on a couple of
cot
s, getting a rubdown with a damp towel. Soon the middle-aged of the two finished, and as the employee was rinsing him off he waved at the old man lying on the other cot. Then he stood and made his way over to the massage room.

The employee taking care of the old man tugged energetically for a while, but eventually he gave up and patted him on the shoulder. "Sir, my apologies. You should go soak in the sauna for a while; I can't finish you."

The old man grunted, struggled upright, and entered the wood-paneled room nearby.

As soon as the old man disappeared through the door, the
masseuse
turned to his coworker who was smoking nearby and whispered, "Hey, did you see that?"

"See what?"

He laughed lowly. "This old geezer doesn't have a
you-know-what
."

"Doesn't have
what
?"

He pointed at his crotch. "You know; a male instrument."

"Really?" his coworker said between cigarette puffs, suddenly amused. "What is he, a
eunuch
?"

"Eunuch, my ass. Just now I was so curious I had to ask." The employee's drawn eyebrows danced as he spoke. "The old man was pretty down to earth; he didn't seem like he had anything to hide. Anyway, he told me it got shot off during the Cultural Revolution."

He chuckled. "Aw, poor guy..."

The young man taking the shower heard every word of their conversation. His back had gone rigid, as if what he heard had startled him greatly. Quickly he turned off the faucet and walked into the sauna.

Inside the sauna, the old man was sitting on a wooden bench with his eyes closed. The young man shut the door behind him and sat carefully across from him, stealing a glance under the old man's towel.

Seeming to sense the young man looking at him, the old man cracked his eyes halfway open to find the young man staring right between his legs. Apparently used to such scrutiny, he smiled tolerantly and closed his eyes again.

Suddenly it occurred to him that he had seen this young man somewhere before. But when he opened his eyes again, the bench across from him was empty.

In the locker room, Luo Jiahai, fully dressed now, was staring at a photograph in his hand of an impeccably attired Zhou Zhenbang smiling confidently at the camera lens. Mr. Z had given him the photograph just an hour ago. Pensively, he put it in his pocket, wrapped the knife in a towel, and left.

After his shower, Teacher Zhou put his bathrobe on and walked into the private room. No sooner had he entered than he was startled by a ghostly white face looking up at him from the sofa.

"It's just me. Sorry I scared you." Yang Jincheng chuckled and peeled off the white facial mask. "See? Your student has not forgotten your old habit from years past. You once said the most comfortable thing in the world is to do it up right at the bathhouse."

He pointed at the sumptuous meat and vegetable dishes and alcohol that had been laid out on the little tea table. "Have a seat. We'll have a drink while we chat; it will be good for the circulation and help us relax."

The younger man picked up a bottle of Wuliangye from the table and waved it in front of Teacher Zhou. "Here, I ordered your favorite." He unscrewed the cap and leaned forward to pour the liquor into two tiny stoneware cups.

Teacher Zhou reached out a hand to stop him, saying sternly, "I'm not here to drink. I'm here to ask you a question."

Yang Jincheng put the bottle down. The expression on his face said that he had already guessed what this was about. "Go ahead."

"Are you...?" Teacher Zhou paused. "Are you still conducting the Indoctrination Field experiment?"

Yang Jincheng's expression changed ever so slightly. He poured himself a cup of Wuliangye and downed it in one gulp. "Yes. Before you stopped it, I made copies of all the data."

Teacher Zhou clenched his hands into fists and ground his teeth. "Why did you not do as you were told?"

In an unhurried manner, Yang Jincheng poured himself another cup of liquor. "I felt that continuing the project was the only way I could truly follow your instructions."

"
What
?" Teacher Zhou felt his face flame red with anger. "What utter nonsense!"

"The truth is, you abandoned the experiment all those years ago because you felt guilty." He stared into Teacher Zhou's eyes. "But are you going to stand there, look me in the eye, and tell me that you really, truly gave up on it?"

"What ever do you mean?"

"You built an orphanage, but I know what you were doing." Yang Jincheng took a sip and chuckled. "Angel Hall, Indoctrination Field—how different they sound, yet how similar when you really think about it! In fact, what I'm doing is no different; both of us are indoctrinating people. It's just that you are using rewards to do so, while I continue to employ that ideal toward which we both dedicated ourselves in the past—punishment."

"Stuff of nonsense!" Teacher Zhou barked, trembling with rage. "How can you say that we are anything alike?"

"Sit down!" Yang Jincheng's voice had gone up several decibels. As Teacher Zhou stood there in front of him, Yang Jincheng suddenly reached over and tore open his bathrobe. "See? You never did evade the topic of your physical defect, and to this day you haven't changed."

"And?"

"And you once said that as long as you can maintain the conviction that a penis is nothing more than three columns of erectile tissue and that it has nothing to do with a man's dignity, then it doesn't matter whether you have one or not, just as it doesn't matter whether you have an appendix or not. You've been ascetic for so many years, and put all your essence into your research, but not once did I ever hear you say you were lonely. In other words, you indoctrinated
yourself.
" Yang Jincheng pointed his chin in the direction of the door. "If someone as wise and strong-willed as yourself can be indoctrinated, then what's to stop all those little people out there from being indoctrinated as well?"

Teacher Zhou maintained a blank expression on his face. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Yang Jincheng reached a hand out and pulled at his wrist, forcing him to sit on the sofa. He then leaned over and fixed his gaze on Teacher Zhou's eyes for several seconds before continuing in a measured tone. "Back then there was nothing wrong with what you did. Likewise, there is nothing wrong with what I am doing now. You once said behavioral science can change the world. I am still deeply convinced of that fact. We can mold humanity's behavior, reinforce humanity's behavior. Of course, we can also eliminate certain elements of it. It's just like Skinner said; the ideal governors of society are not politicians, but rather honest and open-minded behaviorists with a firm understanding of control, and all the various means by which to maintain it."

"You..."

"And so…" Yang Jincheng reached a hand into the air, five fingers spread wide, and slowly squeezed them into a fist. "The future lies not in the hands of the military or the politicians, but in
our
hands—the behavioral scientists."

"But you have neglected to consider the most fundamental problem of all. People can only ever be an
end,
and can never be a
means
to an end!" Teacher Zhou fumed.