Chapter 13 — The One Who Counts Bridges

The decision to suspend came when Linh An was counting the pencils in the drawer. She counted to seventeen, just as the email appeared on the cooperative's offline computer. Sender is human resources department, subject line “Suspend access and inventory contract”.

The reasons include three lines: arbitrarily entering restricted areas, using unapproved data to broadcast, potentially revealing internal documents of partners. She was asked to hand over her access card, meter and all originals within the same day.

Diem read the email after her. She didn't ask if Linh An was right or not, she just opened the cupboard and took out a carton box.

“Hand over the equipment according to the minutes,” she said. “Do not hand over personal notebooks.”

“They will say the manual has job data.”

"My book has a list of electricity bills for the motel. No one has the right to take everything just because of one coordinate."

Linh An removed the access card, laser meter and signal transmitter placed on the table. She kept the pencils, maps and printed photos. A cooperative employee stood next to the door, not looking directly at her. That person used to call her Ms. An, but today she just said "please sign for me".

“Have you been suspended yet?” Linh An asked.

“I just followed the paper.”

“I know.”

She signed the minutes, clearly stating that the delivered equipment was working normally, the original documents had not been handed over because there was no list yet. The staff reads and talks without needing to write down details. Linh An said that if she didn't write it down, she wouldn't sign it.

After that person left, Diem locked the server room door. “You have three days left before your account is completely disabled.”

"For what?"

“To download your personal data.”

“I don't want to take the cooperative's data.”

"I want to preserve the history of the map I created myself. That is my effort."

Diem opened a folder, showing her the versions with timestamps. Old maps before the update project are saved on the backup server, but access requires two people. Diem will use her account, Linh An confirmed with her signature.

“If you help me, you are also involved.”

"I'm not helping you. I'm guarding the warehouse."

Linh An knew that was Diem's way of keeping herself calm enough to continue. She signed.

Yen came after hearing the news, bringing with her the response newsletter from the Infrastructure Committee. They did not name Linh An but said "a cooperative employee arbitrarily interpreted the temporary project as the tenth bridge".

“They are reacting without mentioning the sensor,” Yen said.

“Because the sensor is real.”

“I want to read both sides.”

“Don't use my name if you don't have to.”

Yen sat down at the table. "You're suspended, but the story can't be suspended as well. What do you want to do?"

“Use a paper map.”

"How?"

“Find people who stood at those spots before the data was digitized.”

Khai called from the factory, saying the old crew agreed to meet. They include five people who repaired Bridge Number Seven: Thanh the welder, Ms. Ly in charge of the lights, Mr. Tho the pump driver, Mr. Hoa the carpenter and Ms. Sau collecting supplies. No one wants to be on the radio. They agreed to speak in a private room and could use their real names in the minutes sent to the inspector if read first.

The meeting took place at the community house next to the mudflat. The ceiling fan rotates slowly, and the papers on the table must be placed under a water bottle to avoid flying. Linh An did not turn on the recorder. Yen placed a large piece of paper between everyone, drawing a river with a blue pen.

“We don't need to tell the stories in order,” Linh An said. “Just put yourself where you are, when, what you saw.”

Ms. Ly said the lights under the ramp are always changed on Wednesdays weekly. Mr. Tho said the Moc-07 sensor used to send signals through an electrical box in the warehouse. Thanh remembers Huy instructed to cut ladders to the warehouse roof, because the material cart needed space. Mr. Hoa, the carpenter, said there was a side wooden door connecting to the market, which was removed after the bridge collapse.

“Who said to remove it?” Yen asked.

Mr. Hoa looked at Linh An. “Your father.”

Linh An looked up.

“Hoa said wooden doors cannot withstand water,” he said. “He took it off himself so people wouldn't go into dangerous places.”

“So my father didn't try to stay the course?”

"He kept the railway and removed the wooden doors. Don't make a person into a simple sentence."

The sentence her mother once said came back. Linh An wrote down: "Wooden door - removed because of danger - people passing by must use stone steps."

Mr. Tho gave an old metal card. On the card engraved M07, there is a scratch mark next to it.

“I got it from the pump truck,” he said. “After the equipment was delivered, they were told to throw it away.”

“Do you know who took the sensor from the warehouse?”

"I heard the sound of a car in the morning. The driver was Quan Anh."

“Legal assistant?”

“I only know the name.”

Yen asked if everyone was willing to allow their names to be published. Ms. Ly refused because she has a child who works in the city's lighting team. Thanh agreed if he left his phone number. Mr. Tho said he could use his name because he had retired. Ms. Sau was silent for a long time, then said she did not want her name to appear, but was willing to sign a confirmation not to mention it publicly.

Linh An doesn't try to convince anyone. She divided the minutes into two parts: verifiable testimony and conditions for using the testimony. Each person reads and corrects his or her sentence. Ms. Ly changed "Huy told" to "I heard Huy say during shift change"; Added weather and shifts; Mr. Tho clearly stated that he did not see the person receiving the box, he only heard the sound of the car.

Khai looked at her and whispered: "You are doing what your father could not do."

"What?"

“Let others write their own sentences and take responsibility.”

Linh An didn't know if he was telling the truth or just wanted her to relax. But she still wrote it in the margin of the map.

In the afternoon, they went to Mr. Bay's house. He heard about Linh An's suspension and didn't blame anyone. He just gave her a small wooden box containing nine stones and a broken brick.

"Each stone is a bridge written on the map. Broken bricks are a so-called temporary path."

“You want me to keep it?”

“You count.”

“Ten things.”

"The map of the city has nine. Do you know why?"

“Because they don't count bricks.”

“No. Because they don't count places where no one is registered.”

Mr. Bay gave another small stone with black paint stains.

"Eleven?" Linh An asked.

"A pipeline bridge. Can't walk, but keeps the water from overflowing. Don't use everything to save people. Some things only keep one place from collapsing."

Linh An understood that he was teaching her how not to turn maps into slogans. Each building has a function, each number has a limit.

“Do you know where the sensor is?”

“Where data flows from, it finds a place to end.”

“It runs on the consortium server?”

"No. Water doesn't like to follow the path people draw."

Tung sat fixing a radio and heard that sentence. He plugged in the power, the radio emitted noise and a message forecasting heavy rain. Low pressure is strengthening, the Moc River water level may exceed the alarm level two out of four days.

“Uncle Nhuan,” Tung said, “is the old flood siren still there?”

Mr. Bay pointed to the bridge. "The horn located on the measuring station has been removed. But the wire is still connected to the duty house."

“If the water rises, who turns it on?”

“Someone who knows the ropes.”

Linh An opened the map and found the location of the duty station. On the new data layer, it is filled with mud material. On my father's map, there is a small road connecting the house to the light under the bridge.

That evening, Diem sent her a copy of the history. Change line Moc-07 appears three times: transfer, liquidation, reoperation. The last edit was an anonymous account, logged in from the Ha Luu company address. The sensor's final data coordinates point to a manhole near New Bridge.

“They put the equipment there so that the current data looks like it's from the new bridge,” Khai said.

“Or it sends itself over the old cable.”

“Is there a way to tell the difference?”

“Must open the manhole.”

"Unauthorized."

Linh An looked at the suspension email. She no longer had her access card, but she did not lose the right to observe. She called Inspector Thuan and reported the coordinates. He said he would request an inspection, but could not go immediately because he needed an order.

“If it rains heavily, real-time data is very important,” Linh An said.

"I know. Don't open the hole yourself."

“I haven't said yet.”

“She spoke with the voice of someone about to do something.”

At that moment, Huy texted that he could let her into the Moc-07 area if she signed a commitment not to publish the data. Linh An did not answer. Yen said they can ask an independent expert to check with them, but they don't know who will sign.

“Mr. Minh,” Linh An said.

“He won't sign.”

“If you don't sign, you have to explain.”

The next morning, Linh An went to the Infrastructure Department, without a computer, only with a paper map and the crew's minutes. Mr. Minh knew she was suspended but still let her in.

“I have no right to receive your file,” he said.

“You have the right to read your name on the tape.”

Minh looked at the maps. He did not touch.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Confirmed that the Moc-07 sensor existed, had been transferred to storage, and was likely sending data.”

“I don't know where it is.”

“You can sign the inspection request.”

“If I sign, people will think I'm admitting wrongdoing.”

“If you don't sign, people will think you want them not to check.”

Minh looked out the door. “What do you understand about someone caught between progress and truth?”

“That he chose progress.”

"I choose to let the city have the project. I don't choose someone to clear the path."

“But you let them.”

Minh sat down, placing his hands on the table. "I will sign the request to check the device, not confirm the location. But you must stop broadcasting my name in the news."

“I haven't given your name yet.”

"She tells the words on the tape. The listener guesses for themselves."

“I will clarify the unknown part.”

Minh nodded and signed a proposal. His signature is bolder and uglier than on the old map.

Linh An held the paper. “You know my mother's statement was edited?”

Minh closed his eyes for a moment. “I know the model was changed after the meeting.”

“Who replaces?”

“I have no proof.”

“Do you suspect anyone?”

“Are you asking about investigation or about memories?”

"Both."

"The legal person of the old project. A person named Hung, at that time worked as a contract secretary."

Linh An registered. “What are you hiding?”

Minh looked at her. "I do not know."

The answer was too quick. Linh An does not force. She realized that Mr. Minh had not finished speaking, but a confession was not something that could be pulled out with a ruler.

Leaving the building, she met Hung in the lobby. He held the file and smiled unfriendly.

“Are you still looking?”

“I just received Mr. Minh's signature for inspection.”

"He has the right to sign. But he does not have the right to conclude."

“I haven't concluded yet.”

Hung put a stack of papers in her hand. "This is the official response document. Read it carefully. If you continue to publish false information, We will ask for compensation.”

Linh An opened the first page. The appendix has a sentence: "Auxiliary structures are not designed for rescue purposes, any use other than that purpose is your own responsibility."

“They don't say it doesn't exist,” she said.

“Not everything that exists is our responsibility.”

“So who is responsible when no one knows the way?”

Hung did not answer.

In the afternoon, Yen released news that the old crew confirmed that the connection was in regular operation, but kept the names of those who requested confidentiality anonymous. She clearly stated that this is testimony that needs to be compared, not a safe conclusion.

After the news, three people called to ask for a map of their house. One person asked if it was possible to mark the path of the wheelchair. Another person said his mother died in the old flood because she didn't know where the on-call house was.

Linh An listened to everything and wrote down each address. She did not promise to save anyone. She just said she would check.

That night, rain began to fall on the corrugated iron roof. Revised forecast: low pressure may strengthen into a small storm, water level exceeds the alarm level three out of two days.

On the paper map, Linh An placed ten of Mr. Bay's stones. She wrote next to each tablet the name of the person who knew the way. When she wrote about the broken brick, she remembered her mother saying "don't make your father a good person just because they made him a bad person".

Her father wasn't the only one holding the line. Her mother also kept it, but by staying silent. Huy kept it by calling it a temporary item. Minh kept with a late signature. The counter is kept in black paint.

And the country doesn't care who signed.

Around 3 a.m., the Moc-07 sensor sent its final data to the public system. A warning line appeared on Diem's computer:

“The water level at Moc-07 station increased by 42 centimeters in 18 minutes.”

Just below that, another line automatically appears:

“Project scenario: no eastern water line.”

Linh An opened the map and looked at the white area where the bridge section was deleted.

Rain is no longer a forecast.