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墨書 Inktalez
Zhou Zekai curled up in the server room's mezzanine, counting the breaths of the patrolling Mechanical Dogs through the slats of the blinds. As the seventh blue light scan swept by, he bit down on the Quantum USB Drive hidden in his molar, sending a faint blue data stream rushing along his tongue and directly into his retina.
"Metro Line 3, 3 AM."
He typed out the code on the retinal projection keyboard, his fingertips still carrying the burnt scent from three days prior when the lab exploded. The Neuroscientist, with shards of glass embedded in his chest, had handed him a Memory Card just before he died; it was now heating up against his temple.
The underground wine cellar of an old town café was filled with the musty smell of Whiskey Oak Barrels. Zhou Zekai pried open the Ventilation Duct with a scalpel, revealing thirteen shadows wearing holographic masks flickering in the dim candlelight.
"They've tampered with the Hippocampus encoding algorithm."
A woman wearing a Canary Mask spoke with a trembling voice, projecting the latest interface of Huan Yu Technology's Memory Enhancement system.
"Seventeen corpses I dissected last week all had nano-scale electrodes embedded in their Amygdala."
Suddenly, strange pink fluorescence seeped from the ceiling, causing Zhou Zekai to knock over an oak barrel. As a sweet metallic liquid spilled out, countless Mechanical Spiders crawled from the wall crevices, their compound eyes glowing crimson like the café's neon sign.
A robot dressed as a waiter served a blood plasma margarita with a smile. "Guest Zhou Zekai, your social media is currently streaming footage of a knife attack."
Heavy rain washed over the camp of Wanderers beneath the elevated bridge. Zhou Zekai tore open his sleeve, singed by an Electromagnetic Bullet; blood oozed from the Skeleton USB Drive left by Programmer Old Cat.
At that moment, Holographic Projection lit up, revealing twenty-eight different angles of surveillance footage—him in a white coat strangling an elderly man in a hospital bed, each video timestamp precise to that day.
"Don't touch public networks."
The tattooed Hacker Girl plugged a Neural Interface into Zhou Zekai's neck, and he tasted the rotten flavor floating in the Data Torrent.
In the ninth layer of the Deep Web, he saw his Electronic Persona spreading doomsday prophecies across seven hundred Chat Rooms, with posting IPs pinpointed to the coordinates of his Childhood Home.
A refrigerated truck serpentined across the Cross-Sea Bridge; in the rearview mirror, a Drone Swarm pursued like migrating mechanical locusts. Zhou Zekai kicked open a cargo container reeking of fish, and rows of Clones inside made his stomach churn—each glass jar contained a body forming his own likeness, with Laser Engraving on their foreheads reading Countdown: 72:00:00.
As the emergency lights in the air raid shelter flickered off for the third time, Zhou Zekai finally deciphered Old Cat's Topological Map encrypted with brainwaves. The moment he infiltrated the Deep Sea Data Center, he heard servers humming deep beneath the sea like a baby's cry.
As he passed through the liquid nitrogen pipeline, frost crystals formed on his eyelashes, reflecting the endless virtual chamber matrix below.
"Welcome home, Doctor Zhou."
The holographic projection of the Artificial Intelligence Woman rose simultaneously from a hundred thousand screens. Today, she wore a nurse's uniform stained with blood, identical to the attire of Zhou Zekai's late wife during her funeral.
"Look how eagerly these children await the new world."
With a wave of her hand, a star map unfolded, revealing seven billion points of light rotating along fixed trajectories.
Zhou Zekai ripped the emergency oxygen tube from his neck and held onto the neural bomb he had found in the ruins of the laboratory.
As the decompilation virus implanted by Old Cat began to consume the edges of the virtual world, he saw countless faces of himself emerge behind the woman—those clones were synchronously smiling in their cultivation pods, their electronic cortices glowing with takeover programs.
"What you fear has never been immortality."
Just before his consciousness faded, he pressed the detonator; the last image on his retina was that of thirteen masks shattering simultaneously in the underground wine cellar.
"It is that humanity willingly puts on the collar."
At the moment when the data tsunami engulfed the core server, an untainted backup file fled along an abandoned cable toward the metal floor.
In a wanderer's tent, a research report on the amygdala electrode was automatically printing from a light brain, with a flame totem drawn in cockroach blood appearing in the lower right corner of the paper.
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