Connections

In March in New York, the afternoon sun finally peeked out from behind the gray clouds, casting a thin, oily sheen over the asphalt of Jamaica Avenue.

A police cruiser pulled out of the 103rd Precinct, turned onto Jamaica Avenue, and headed east.

Patrick gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, maintaining a steady, unhurried pace.

Dr. Lin An sat in the passenger seat with his backpack at his feet, turning the police report card over and over in his hands.

The card was small, the size of a credit card, with a white background and black text. The New York Police Department logo was printed in the top left corner, his name and case number in the center, and the date in the bottom right... a day in March 2009.

As he looked at it, he caught a glimpse of the chat stream scrolling rapidly in his peripheral vision.

[Host, host, what is the point of that report card anyway? Isn't it just a small piece of paper?]

[Same question.]

[I lost my passport in the United States once. The report card is a mandatory document for getting a replacement. Without it, the consulate won't issue you a new passport.]

[Right, when you go to replace your passport, you need to show the police report to prove you didn't lose it on purpose.]

[Same for visas and I-20s; you need this to get them reissued.]

[Plus, this thing is an official record. With this number, if you run into any identity-related issues within the U.S. later, you can use it as proof.]

[For example, if you get pulled over by the police and they can't find your identity information, you can show them this card to explain that your documents were stolen and you're in the process of replacing them.]

[At the very least, the police won't haul you straight to jail when they see this.]

["At the very least, they won't haul you straight to jail"... hilarious, that's America for you.]

[Also, the case number on this card is linked to a national database, so police in other states can look it up too.]

[But it says "Visa information pending verification" on it. Will that remark cause problems?]

[Not much of a problem in New York. Other cops will give the 103rd Precinct some face and won't be too pedantic, but it's hard to say once you're outside the city.]

[That's just how a society based on personal connections works; it's the same everywhere.]

[But don't you have to go to the Chinese Consulate in New York to replace a passport? Host, you don't have a passport right now, how are you going to get in?]

[That's a good question.]

Lin An watched the chat, the corners of his mouth curling slightly... that wasn't a life-or-death question; he had a plan.

He folded the card, tucked it into his pocket, and leaned back in his seat to watch the streetscape outside.

The shops along Jamaica Avenue were packed side by side: hair salons, laundromats, Chinese restaurants, Dominican bodegas, and 99-cent stores. The signs were a riot of color, dominated by English and Spanish, with the occasional line of Chinese, French, or even Hindi.

The sidewalks were crowded with people pushing shopping carts, carrying plastic bags, or standing on street corners smoking and chatting. Most were Black or Latino, with the occasional white face appearing to be there on business rather than living in the neighborhood.

Patrick drove for a while before stopping at a red light, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel.

"Dr. Lin An."

"Yes?"

"Regarding that identity theft you mentioned, if I find the address for that account, what should I do next?"

Lin An thought for a moment.

"If you find the address, there are two possibilities."

"Which two?"

"First, the address is real, and the person who stole your identity lives there. Second, the address is fake—just a P.O. box or a vacant house."

Patrick nodded.

"And if it's real?"

"If it's real..."

Lin An offered a smile.

"The New York Police Department should have ways to make the perpetrator pay the price..."

Hearing this, Patrick laughed as well.

That was true; how could the New York Police Department lack the means? For criminals who dared to steal a police officer's identity, their ending wouldn't be as simple as just going to jail.

"And if the address is fake?"

"Then it gets troublesome."

Lin An said.

"You'll need to submit an identity theft affidavit to the IRS, then contact the fraud department at JPMorgan Chase to have them conduct an internal investigation."

He paused.

"Either way, it takes time. But since you've already paid the fine, the most urgent part is over. The rest is just following the procedure."

Patrick was silent for a moment, then sighed.

"Over five hundred dollars, I paid it, and now I have to spend months proving I shouldn't have."

He shook his head.

"This system is fucking sick."

Dr. Lin An didn't speak, he just offered a small smile.

The light turned green, Patrick stepped on the gas, and the car continued forward.

The chat stream started scrolling again.

[I totally get Patrick's mindset. Dealing with the IRS in the United States is exactly like this. If they say you owe money, you owe it. You want to prove you don't? The money and time you'd spend might end up costing more than the debt itself.]

[That's why most Americans choose to just pay up and keep the peace.]

[But identity theft is different. If you don't handle it, it'll just keep coming back next year and the year after.]

[Patrick is lucky he ran into Dr. Lin An, otherwise he might have been chased by the IRS every single year.]

[In the United States, equivalent exchange is the most efficient form of social interaction.]

[This is what connections are. You help me, I help you. It's not just about knowing someone; without mutual favors and social capital, who would care about your messy problems?]

As the chat scrolled, the car turned onto 108th Street. The buildings on both sides shifted from commercial storefronts to old apartment blocks with red brick facades and cast-iron fire escapes. Most of the ground floors were shops, but many were shuttered, their rolling metal doors covered in graffiti.

They arrived at their destination soon after, the police cruiser pulling up in front of an old, three-story apartment building.

A young Black man in a hoodie stood on the street corner. He stared at the police car for a moment, then turned and walked away only after Dr. Lin An stepped out.

Darnell, who was leaning against his bicycle by the side of the road, noticed this scene and frowned.

"Dr. Lin An."

Dr. Lin An, who had just stepped out of the car, turned around.

Patrick stood by the vehicle, his hands shoved into his pockets. His expression was a bit awkward, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how to phrase it.

"Uh... when you come to the precinct tomorrow afternoon, could I bring my wife's tax forms too? She works part-time and changed jobs twice last year. I'm worried she might have filed them wrong."

"That's fine."

Dr. Lin An said.

Patrick let out a sigh of relief and broke into a smile.

"Great, I'll see you tomorrow then."

He was about to get back into the car, but paused for a second.

"Right, that friend of yours, what was his name again?"

"Darnell."

"Darnell..."

Patrick glanced at Ni Ge not far away and offered a warning.

"108th Street isn't very safe at night. Tell your friend to be careful when he goes out after dark. If anything happens, just call the precinct and use my name."

"Understood, Officer Patrick."

Dr. Lin An watched the police car drive away, then looked up at the chat stream in front of him.

"Brothers, I've got the police card. It's time for the next step in my plan. Who has the time to control a crow and head to Columbia University in Manhattan to find Professor Robert Jero?

Help me out with this, and when the time comes that you need me to kill someone for you, I'll prioritize you."

[Me, let me do it. I have the time.]

[What's the point? The most important thing is having points. You can't keep the camera feed open for long without them. Pick me, I have plenty of points and can camp out at Columbia University for two days.]

[Pick me. When I was studying abroad in New York in '09, Professor Robert Jero was my advisor. I know exactly where his office and home address are.]

[It's a parallel world, is the information you have even useful?]

[A parallel world just has many things that are different, but sometimes, many people and things remain largely the same.]

"Alright, you're the one."

Dr. Lin An said as he took out a bag of bread.

"Once Professor Robert is found, I can proceed to the next step of my plan."

As soon as he finished speaking, a crow on the roof of a nearby apartment let out a caw, then dove down. With a whoosh, it expertly snatched the bread away... this was its ration, and also its wages for the job.

Wages paid in advance, daily.

Dr. Lin An waved at the departing crow.

"Brother, I'm counting on you for this!"

[No problem.]

Darnell, who had pushed his bicycle over to Dr. Lin An's side, was already unfazed and didn't say a word about the strange behavior.

"Bro, did everything go smoothly?"

"Yeah, very smoothly."

Darnell hesitated for a moment.

"Someone was keeping watch just now, bro. We might have been spotted."

Dr. Lin An turned to look at Darnell.

"Locals, or outsiders?"

"Locals. The Rainstorm Gang probably knows you're here and sent someone to check out the situation."

"Don't worry about them, it's nothing important."

Lin An waved his hand upon hearing this, completely unconcerned.

He wasn't afraid of any gang members to begin with. Just a moment ago, while in the police car, the barrage had reminded him from afar that a certain Ni Ge ahead was acting suspicious, suggesting he have the police arrest the man after getting out.

Lin An ignored it. He could have had Patrick make the arrest; New York police had the authority to stop people on the street and check their identification.

If the target was a Ni Ge, it would be perfectly reasonable to claim suspicion of involvement in theft cases and take him back to the station for questioning.

However, if Lin An were to ask for that, it would mean he owed Patrick a favor.

Therefore, it wasn't necessary.

Besides, the local gang's surveillance would stop soon enough; as one of the local powers, they certainly wouldn't dare provoke the New York City 103rd Precinct.

In many TV shows and movies, police are always portrayed as incompetent, but in reality, the authority of the New York police on the streets far exceeds what is presented in those works.

Especially in 2009, with the lingering influence of the "Broken Windows Theory" from the Giuliani era and New York under Bloomberg slowly recovering from the financial crisis, police control over the streets had reached a historical high.

As long as the local gangsters weren't brain-damaged, they wouldn't provoke Lin An.

"Let's go, Darnell."

Lin An greeted the Ni Ge.

"Let's go check on the base and see how Old Joe and the others are doing."

The heavy-duty bicycle sped through the streets of Jamaica.

Darnell rode fast, his long legs moving up and down like pistons. The bicycle beneath him emitted a rhythmic creaking sound, the chain turning with a crisp and continuous hum.

He pulled the hood of his hoodie up, the brim pulled low, making him look like a gangster in his thirties fleeing a police pursuit, causing pedestrians on the side of the road to dodge and clear the way.

Lin An sat on the back, one hand gripping the edge of the seat, the other tucked into his coat pocket, his backpack bouncing on his back with the jolts of the bike.

The wind whipped past his ears. The March afternoon in New York was still a bit chilly, but Lin An felt it was just right.

"Bro!"

Darnell shouted from the front, his voice intermittent in the wind.

"Are—you—sure—you—don't—want—a—cab?"

"Sure!"

"I—have—an—Uber—account!"

"I know!"

"Then—why—not—take—a—cab!"

Lin An smiled and didn't answer.

The barrage flew rapidly before his eyes.

[Because taking a cab costs money, and riding a Ni Ge bicycle is free.]

[The streamer only has a hundred bucks left in his pocket, what kind of cab is he going to take?]

[Darnell is a real human-powered engine; this speed must be fifty kilometers per hour, right?]

[Fifty kilometers? Look at the trees on the side of the road, they're blurred; this is at least sixty.]

[This bike is pretty good.]

[It's not the bike, it's the Aodebiao engine that's powerful.]

Lin An watched the barrage, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

Darnell shouted again from the front.

"Bro, hold on tight, downhill!"

Lin An instinctively grabbed the seat. The bike accelerated violently, rushing down a small slope. The sound of the wind intensified instantly, as if something were whistling right by his ears.

[Wait, streamer, tell the Ni Ge to stop, there's danger ahead.]

Lin An's smile vanished instantly.

"Darnell, stop."

Darnell didn't ask why and slammed on the brakes. The bicycle screeched, carving an arc into the road surface before coming to a wobbly halt at the side.

"What's wrong?"

Darnell turned back, and upon seeing Lin An's expression, he immediately lowered his voice.

"What's ahead..."

Darnell didn't finish his question, because after the bike stopped, he heard the unusual commotion ahead.

[There are two groups having a shootout over by the church.]

[Damn, real guns, they aren't messing around.]

[At least a dozen people, both sides are trading fire.]

[It's getting pretty intense.]

Lin An narrowed his eyes and looked toward the direction of the church.

At the end of that street, a few figures could be vaguely seen moving about, and a dull sound drifted through the air, like someone setting off firecrackers in the distance, but Lin An knew those weren't firecrackers.

Those were gunshots.

9mm, .45 ACP, maybe even a .38 revolver; the different sounds blended together like an improvised percussion performance.

"Bro."

Darnell's voice was lowered to a whisper.

"Those are gunshots."

"I know."

"We should..."

"You hide."

Lin An jumped off the backseat, pushed Darnell's shoulder, and shoved both him and the bike into the narrow gap between two buildings by the side of the road.

The gap was tight, only wide enough for one person to stand sideways; the heavy bicycle was jammed in horizontally, its handlebars caught against the walls, the rear wheel still spinning in the air.

Darnell leaned against the wall, his face full of confusion.

"Bro, we..."

"You stay here, keep an eye out and provide backup for me."

Lin An cut him off.

Darnell froze for a second.

"What?"

"You stay here, don't move, don't make a sound, and wait for me to come back."

"What are you doing!?"

Lin An didn't answer; he was already taking off his jacket.

He pulled off his thin black hoodie, revealing the dark gray long-sleeved T-shirt underneath, shoved the hoodie at Darnell, and took off his backpack, setting it down next to the bicycle.

Darnell watched his movements, his pupils dilating.

"Bro, are you crazy? There's a gunfight going on over there!"

"I'm going to take a look."

"Look at what?"

"The show."