“Just in case,” he thought to himself, Ming packed a bag with clothes, dried food, and other basic survival necessities. He gassed up his car before curfew and made a big dinner, so as not to let too much food go to waste if he needed to make a getaway later that night.

The last sixty seconds of the day ticked by as Ming typed the final code into the supercomputer. Midnight. Click; enter.

Ming watched as numbers and letters flashed across the surface of the screen. In a matter of minutes, the government would go dark and crash, setting in motion possibly one of the greatest liberation missions in history. Ming, in his gray sweatshirt, sat at his desk chair in his dark and dusty attic and reflected. Looking out the small square window in the attic at the night sky, Ming wondered if Stafford Beer felt the enormity of his designs when he presented them to Allende, and later the Chinese. Did he ever doubt his belief in his explosive plans, or waver strength of spirit when it was time to implement his massive plans that would, undoubtedly, change the course of history?

The moon was shrouded by clouds tonight. Ming descended the stairs of his modest home, picked up his suitcase and headed for his car. He pulled the hood of his gray sweatshirt over his head and loaded up his illegal personal computer, wondering how much longer it would be against the law. It was past curfew, but in just a few minutes, none of that would matter ever again.

Jian Ming's story doesn't end here... what's his next chapter? Tell us!