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墨書 Inktalez
In the moment of explosion, a hexagonal grid suddenly proliferated on my Retina. When the Golden Compound Eyes covered my pupils, the world transformed into a digital forest composed of CX numbers—every crack in the asphalt road became a binary stream, and raindrops suspended in mid-air crystallized into floating CX codes. The seams of the girl's metallic skeleton flowed with the latitude and longitude coordinates of my mother's laboratory.
"Don't make eye contact!" The girl's speaker suddenly erupted with a recording of my father's voice from his youth, a snippet from his Turing Award acceptance speech. Instinctively, I raised my hand to shield myself, but the Palm Print parasite's Compound Eye automatically focused, peeling back layers of the torn asphalt: thirty meters underground, swarms of CX-0 prototypes were gnawing at the subway tunnel, their Excrement crystallizing into Jasmine Essence.
The mechanical Remains of the Senior Officer suddenly convulsed, and vine-like mycelium burst forth from a rotting Apple Core. At the tips of the mycelium bloomed Ice Flowers, each petal a fragment of my mother's memories—I saw her injecting a syringe into her seven-month pregnant belly, the fetal monitoring screen displaying golden ring patterns on the fetus's Palm Print.
"So I am too..." The sharp pain in my Rib returned suddenly, and the parasite's Compound Eye shrank to a pinhole. At that moment, rainwater flowed backward, revealing twelve parallel timelines within suspended droplets: in each timeline, I was at a different age crushing an Apple Core, with the youngest being tightly embraced by my mother in the Liquid Nitrogen Chamber.
The girl's metallic palm suddenly plunged into my chest but Quantumized before reaching my heart. Her mechanical skeleton acted like a compass drawn to magnetic poles, all joints turning toward the Experimental Building. "Mom... is waiting for you at the source." Her electronic voice mingled with that of a Crying Baby as exploded Teddy Bear Remains flew in from all directions, assembling in mid-air to form a giant Klein Bottle.
As I crashed into the bottle's opening, I caught a whiff of burnt residue from three years ago's Laboratory Explosion. Burning documents floated around me, one bearing my first birthday photo; on the back was my mother's handwriting: "When Parasite 743 completes its molting, throw this child into the reactor."
At that moment, time folded; I fell back to reality from the Klein Bottle's curved surface. The crack in the asphalt spewed forth Liquid Nitrogen cold currents, freezing the Mechanical Police that were undergoing Reorganization. The images reflected off their helmets froze my blood—my father in a white lab coat stood behind me, holding a Silver Nematode connected to my Umbilical Cord.
"Has the cognitive filter finally broken?" My father's scalpel sliced through the void as rain fell in two halves. On one side was the graduation ceremony of Sunshine Primary School; on the other was surveillance footage of my mother trapped in a Liquid Nitrogen Chamber. His tie bore cufflinks made from Teddy Bear eyes, with Micro Countdown Timers embedded in their pupils: "11:59:59."
The Palm Print parasite suddenly emitted a buzzing sound as Golden Compound Eyes shot out laser beams. The mannequin models in the bridal shop activated instantly; their plastic skin peeled away to reveal Neural Networks made from Apple Core Chips beneath. The front-row model lifted her skull cap and knelt before me with a pituitary gland soaked in Jasmine Essence.
"Your mother always loved adding Jasmine Essence to her culture medium," my father said as he crushed the kneeling model's knees; a numbered Milk Tooth floated up from the slime. "She said it would help you awaken..."
My fist passed through my father's holographic image and smashed into an advertisement power box. Electricity surged through me via rainwater as the parasite's Compound Eye brightened dramatically. All CX-numbered items began to resonate; fish balls from a convenience store's oden split open to reveal miniature time Calibration devices—black market contraband now displaying data from my biological clock.
The girl's mechanical Remains suddenly stood up; fragments of her school uniform formed a blood-red arrow pointing toward the subway vent. As I crawled into the duct behind her, I saw scratch marks covering the inner walls made by children’s hands; every ten centimeters embedded with Milk Teeth. At its deepest point was written in coagulated blood: "743, Mom is on Negative Seven Floor."
At the end of the vent was an old-fashioned elevator; yellowed experimental regulations were posted beside its floor buttons. Underneath a warning label reading "No Apples Allowed," there was an annotation in my mother's Biometric Signature: "Nuclear is key." As the elevator began to descend, its ceiling light flickered on and off, illuminating scratches on the metal walls—those were crying faces etched by five-year-old me using glass shards.
The moment Negative Seven Floor opened, Silver Nematodes surged like a tsunami. They parted around my feet to reveal my mother submerged in a Cultivation Chamber. Her Chest Cavity housed an Apple Tree whose roots penetrated protective glass into the ground; each fruit represented different ages of me screaming.
"You came too late." My mother suddenly opened her eyes as the Apple Tree rapidly withered. She plucked a seven-year-old fruit and stuffed it into my mouth; its sour juice activated Retina Projection: Father was feeding CX-0 prototypes with blood from my Umbilical Cord while those mechanical girls had bloody Apple Cores growing within their Cranial Cavities.
At that moment, the parasite's Compound Eye fell away, transforming into gold dust that seeped into my Palm Print. A new Countdown appeared on my mother's Cultivation Chamber's liquid surface; this time it was bright green: "00:00:07." When the last digit turned zero, all Silver Nematodes exploded simultaneously; their shells formed images I had never seen before:
Girls in school uniforms formed a circle around and were devouring a gigantic apple. From within the cracks of an Apple Core extended my mother's hand covered in gears.
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