text: We are all gathered in a cinder-block conference room with one of those big speakerphone things in the middle of the table and a monitor at the far end. Along with Ze and Jean, my parents, Imani's parents, and Vik's Dad are also in attendance.
  
  Apparently, since Aaron was not with us at the police station, I am rather pleased to report he is keeping himself anonymous, or at least his parents uncontacted, and I can't say as I blame him.
  
  After a few minutes, the door opens, and in come Detective Tsarnowsky, along with Officer Jordan and Lieutenant Raymond P. Clark, who is making the rounds, shaking hands with everyone in the room. When he gets to me, he pauses and smiles. "It's good to see you again, Sidonie." And with that, he motions to us to sit.
  
  "I want to thank you all for coming down here this evening, and I'd like to introduce you all to Detective Hong."
  
  A very well dressed, very fit Asian man, maybe thirty or so, walks into the room, carrying a folder, broadly smiling as he makes his way toward the monitor. "Bobby, please. Only my mother calls me Detective Hong." And as everyone chuckles and relaxes just a bit, he takes a minute to open the folder and place it on the table, although he doesn't take a seat.
  
  "I'd like to thank Detective Tsarnowsky and Officer DeShawn Jordan for reaching out to me. And I'd like to apologize to all of you about the hour, but it is now eight o'clock in the morning tomorrow in Hefei, China. In addition, I'd like to thank Vikram. Where are you?" He pauses, waiting for a sign, and as Vikram raises his hand, "Jimmy?" As Jimmy's hand goes up, Bobby continues until we have all been identified.
  
  "When Officer Jordan phoned me, your story had just enough whisper of truth, I felt I needed to check with a colleague. In Chinese, there is an old proverb I learned from my grandparents, which I had more or less forgotten. It is: 有缘千里来相会 yŏu yuán qiān lĭ lái xiāng huì. It means fate brings people together no matter how far apart they may be. Something about DeShawn's call made me remember that saying.
  
  "So I called Senior Superintendent Wang, an officer I knew from a joint task force, and asked if she could somehow do a quick check of your story, the address, whatever was possible." Here Bobby pauses to flip a few pieces of paper in his folder until he finds the one he wants, which he picks up and proceeds to read from directly.
  
  "Yesterday, at five o'clock in the morning, Hefei time, a raid was conducted on an internet addiction camp in Anhui Province. Six people were arrested on the spot, one hundred and eight addicts are being evaluated for further treatment or possible release, and seven were rushed to hospitals, including your friend Qi."
  
  As he puts the paper back, he smiles at all of us. "You are all heroes. You saved the lives of seven people."
  
  Chills run up my spine, and part of me wants to scream and part of me wants to cry. Some of it is pure relief and joy because if we hadn't been heard, if I wasn't validated, it would have been too late. I desperately wish I could step out into the hallway alone and just hug myself for a minute.
  
  I must have missed something being said, because all of a sudden the remote is clicked and a dark-haired, seriouslooking woman appears on the monitor.
  
  Bobby Hong is saying, "Hello. Can you hear us okay?" At her nod, he turns back to the table.
  
  "Everyone, I would like to introduce my colleague, Senior Superintendent Wang." And with that, Bobby pulls a chair up next to the monitor, facing us, but turned in slightly, so he can also keep an eye on the screen.
  
  "Thank you, Detective Hong." And if "Bobby" is all warm and fuzzy, Senior Superintendent Wang is all business. She sits perfectly straight, but her eyes travel until she makes contact with each of us.
  
  When she resumes speaking, you get the sense no words are wasted. "We want to say thank you to all of you for your assistance in closing down what we discovered was a fairly small but still very sophisticated criminal operation. Our investigation shows the rehabilitation school was legitimate, but it was for a wealthy clientele only, and a front for the rest of the operation." Senior Superintendent Wang waits, letting us absorb her words.
  
  I don't know what anyone else's reactions are, because I am hanging on her every word.
  
  "In 2008, China became the first nation to declare internet addiction a clinical disorder, which is a great and forward-thinking initiative." Wang's English is impeccable, deliberate. "But as with all great positive thinking, there are some people who see negative opportunity.
  
  "What we now know is they used two scouts. These were men whose job it was to go from gaming den to gaming den, watching the competition, ranking not only the players, but also their addiction levels. If you were to think of them perhaps as music or, even better, basketball scouts, they would go to a game, spot the talent, check out their backgrounds, and if everything hit their checklist, they would then, and only then, begin recruiting them."
  
  Here, Wang allows a brief pause before she continues, "Which means recruiting their parents. Once a target was identified, they would seek out those who had mothers, fathers, or any relatives who were without means, desperate, a little bit less sophisticated, living in provinces far away, and woo them with promises of success and pictures from the legitimate side of the business.
  
  "There are now an estimated twenty-three million Chinese people suffering with gaming addiction."
  
  The gasp from our group was surprisingly audible, and Wang's smile surprisingly gentle. "You must remember, we are over seven hundred million computer users."
  
  With each word that Senior Superintendent Wang speaks, the size and the scope has me mesmerized and feeling a combination of awe while feeling smaller, and thankful I didn't know any of this. We were all just playing a game.
  
  "And like all addicts, nothing will keep them from their next fix. This is why some people call gaming 'electronic heroin.'
  
  "So when this savior appears, the parents voluntarily, even thankfully, sign the papers giving over control of their children to this center, not knowing they are unwittingly signing their child's death certificate. This very select group of young people will, instead of being treated, become what are called 'gold farmers.' They will have their addictions fed, playing hour after hour, mining the farm for drop after drop, lost in the haze, until they tragically choke on their own games and die.
  
  "And if, like the young man, Qi, they prove to have more stamina than anticipated, it is of no consequence, because the parents have been already informed that 'despite their best efforts, their son was too far gone' and had passed away in his sleep.
  
  "So they have created a loop, an unlimited supply of game-addicts to choose from, who become farmers to fulfill market demand as they see fit."
  
  I hear Mama's "merde" slice through the silence. It's as good a summary as any. Wow.
  
  For the first time, Officer Wang leans slightly back. She becomes just a bit less formal, more conversational as she asks, "And why gold farming? I suppose the simple answer is because they can. There was a time, here in China, these were huge operations, but as the games became savvier, and many of them began to allow players to resell inside their own systems, many of them moved on to other lucrative schemes, and of course other 'opportunities' arose in disinformation and such.
  
  "But for a very small number of entrepreneurs willing to bide their time, it was perfect. They set about building community and government respect using their addiction treatment centers, which provided them an influx of legitimate children. And if one of the children dies, which sadly some do, because some are too far gone to save, the community grieves for those poor people who are working so hard to fight this deadly scourge. Must be so tough to see.
  
  "And while the good people weep for their loss, and hail them as heroes, our two-faced thieves hide all their earnings in cryptocurrencies, with no paper trail of illicit money for the Chinese government to follow. Even the deposits are hidden by a VPN."
  
  And she gives us a rueful kind of smile. "I believe the American expression is they are crying all the way to the bank."
  
  And almost as though she has shown us too much, Senior Superintendent Wang sits back up and continues perfunctorily, "We believe there were six people involved in this operation, the two scouts, the two business owners, and two guards, all of whom have been arrested.
  
  "We also believe there was one additional person, a Chinese national, the brother-in-law of one of the guards, who is now living in Canada. It appears his job was solely to get the cryptocurrency and transfer its digital wallet into hard cash or other assets, for which he was paid a fee. At this time we are not sure he knew anything about the actual source of the money."
  
  We hear a knock coming from behind Wang, followed by a bit of commotion, which causes her to pause, and gives us a chance to exchange looks. I now know what incredulous looks like when it isn't faked. That would be the parent row.
  
  As for us, we just look like, well, pardon the English, holy shit.
  
  Then Wang is back. "Every rescue story needs a miracle. The Anhui boys' miracle might be that somehow, even though these ruthless men used the VPN for their financial transactions, they did not for their farming. It was a careless mistake. If they had, your IP idea would not have been so simple, and we would most likely not be here today."
  
  "But this is why, as Detective Hong alluded, you have exceptional yuánfèn 緣分, which is a Chinese concept, a fateful coincidence, perhaps most similar to karma. Out of seven and a half billion people, you were destined for each other."
  
  And with that, Senior Superintendent Wang smiles and bows her head. Her portion is finished.
  
  Or not. Because before we can say anything, Bobby Hong stands back up.
  
  "Senior Superintendent Wang and I have one more item. Qi would like to speak to you. But please remember, although his doctors say thanks to you he will survive, he is very weak. And his appearance is very sad. But he will be okay. It will just take time."
  
  With that, Wang turns the camera around, and there, in a hospital bed propped up with pillows, is the skinniest man I've ever seen ...at least alive. He looks like one of the photos of Holocaust survivors, or maybe from the AIDS epidemic.
  
  As he begins speaking, Wang begins to translate, but stops as she hears Ze softly doing the same.
  
  "Hello Viksation32. I wish to say I am sorry for the trouble I have caused for you, but I thank you for saving my life."
  
  "Hello Qi." Vik stands up with a small wave. "We are very happy to see you alive."
  
  "Thank you. I believed you would come."
  
  Which was the opening we were all waiting for. And we didn't need to prompt Vik. He was all over it. "Why?"
  
  "I am not sure. But I think because, when you don't know whom to trust, you must think deeply on who you know. And I know you. For many years now. You play smart, but you always play fair."
  
  Qi shifts slightly, trying to leverage up a bit on his pillow. "Xiong and I were taken together, in the same car, and over time we learned to leave messages for each other in the game we were farming. So one day I know he is dying and I must try to save him. And I must save me. And so I think back to playing Contagion and I think, if I can get back to there, I will maybe find somebody who will understand."
  
  Ze is completely transfixed, even as ze continues to translate. "And so I stole your items. It was not honorable, but I was desperate." Qi attempts a smile as he says, "I hoped you would be insulted enough to come and find me."
  
  "Okay, but why didn't you just ask?"
  
  And although Qi answers, Ze's translation isn't immediately there. And when I look over, I am stunned to see tears running down Ze's cheek. Slowly ze picks back up. "Because I could not risk contact with anyone else. I know," and once again, Ze's voice cracks. Then ze takes a small break followed by a deep breath, pulling it back together. Ze finishes: "I am a disappointment to my family, but I did not want to die. So I believe you will come. And I am right."
  
  And as Vikram answers, I realize I now have some of my Ze questions answered too. Why ze is in New York City alone. Why ze never reached out. I risk a glance at Imani, who is looking at me, a tear running down her cheek. Yeah, those answers hurt.
  
  "You are only partly right." Vikram walks over to where I am sitting. "We all came, but not because of me. None of us would have come without Sid. She was much more determined to avenge my loss than I was."
  
  And all of a sudden, it was all eyes on me. Talk about an ungainly fluster of blush. But I manage to smile and say, "Faut pas toucher mes amis."
  
  Fortunately, I know Ze knows French.