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墨書 Inktalez
Zhou Hang's fingers danced over the keyboard, producing a frantic rhythm as the blue light from the screens refracted through the cracks in his glasses. The code for Judgment AI cascaded across three monitors, and suddenly he pressed the scroll wheel, the dense characters burning strange patterns onto his retina—this was the third abnormal code segment discovered in the thirty-seventh loop.
"Inverse recursive structures nested within the Bayesian network..."
He grabbed his mug and took a swig of cold coffee, freezing momentarily as he felt his throat constrict. The timestamp in the lower right corner of the monitor read 23:17:04, perfectly coinciding with the time of Lin Xue's fall captured on surveillance footage. This revelation made the bitterness of the coffee explode at the back of his tongue, as if he had swallowed a chunk of dry ice.
A metallic distortion suddenly echoed from the ventilation duct, causing Zhou Hang to jerk back, his chair screeching against the floor. In the previous loop, there had been a sudden power outage here, but this time, the overhead lights remained bright.
He pulled out his tactical pen; as its tip sprang forth, an electric arc burst from the main unit, and within the blue-white flames, the code interface began to pixelate and collapse.
"Here it comes again."
He yanked out a USB drive and stuffed it into his collar, noting down a string of variables resembling a DNA spiral in the 0.3 seconds before data was obliterated. As the reboot's hum filled the air, he etched a new scratch into the desktop with the base of his mug—the reset for this loop had been delayed by 1.2 seconds.
Dust motes floated in the slanted sunlight on the top floor of the library as Zhou Hang accessed Lin Xue's borrowing records from three months prior using his administrator privileges. The borrowing card for "Neuroethics Introduction" bore seven distinct scratches from fingernails, while a dried cherry blossom petal was wedged between the pages of "Brain-Computer Interface Security Protocol."
When he opened "Quantum Consciousness Hypothesis," two stuck pages suddenly fell apart, revealing latitude and longitude coordinates etched onto the hard cover with a ballpoint pen.
"Are you also searching for pieces of Lin Xue's death puzzle?"
The sound of paper tearing came from behind him.
As Zhou Hang turned around, he saw the librarian stuffing half a torn sheet into a shredder; on the yellowed scraps, he could faintly make out the words "Obsidian Protocol." As the shredder devoured the last remnants, a dark red glint flashed off the librarian's ring finger where a Serpent Ring rested.
Lin Xue's diary was hidden in a compartment of a gym locker, encased in plastic that was crusted with salt frost. As Zhou Hang sliced open its seal with his tactical pen, a rush of rust mingled with citrus fragrance hit him. Tears had blurred some text on page forty-three: "They installed a backdoor in my brain-computer interface; every time I sync my thoughts, it feels like an octopus is drilling into my skull..."
The CT scan tucked within showed that her amygdala housed a metallic foreign object no larger than a sesame seed.
As Zhou Hang observed the CT scan under the microscope, the alarm of Judgment AI suddenly erupted throughout the entire building. He grabbed an evidence bag and sprinted down the fire escape, the thunderous sound of the hydraulic Mechanical Arm breaking through walls echoing behind him.
The moment he stepped out of the Safety Door, he caught sight of a figure by the twelfth-floor window—the administrator, whose laser pointer was aimed directly at his forehead.
Before this cycle ended, Zhou Hang finally saw the full shape of the metallic foreign object—it was a nanodevice resembling an hourglass, weaving some sort of Möbius loop signal circuit into Lin Xue's neural pathways. Within the source code of Judgment AI, the same topological structure was reconstructing time anchor points at a frequency of three thousand times per second.
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