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The metal electrodes emitted a faint buzzing on the scalp as Lin Xiuwen watched the fluctuating brainwave patterns on the Holographic Screen. The moment the blue liquid was injected into the carotid artery, he heard the rushing tide within the Blood Vessel, reminiscent of the sound of a crystal vase shattering on the floor during his childhood.
"Amygdala region exhibiting abnormal discharges, activity in the prefrontal cortex is suppressed," said a female researcher wearing an iris analyzer, pinching a cotton ball soaked in conductive gel with tweezers. "Doctor Lin, do you remember when you first dissected a living subject?"
The hem of her lab coat was stained indigo from splattered reagents. Lin Xiuwen's pupils suddenly constricted behind his goggles. The copper doors of his memory corridor swung open violently, revealing his twelve-year-old self hiding behind a sandalwood screen as his father poured whiskey over his mother's newly bought cashmere shawl. The crystal chandelier swayed amidst their argument, its faceted surfaces fracturing his parents' shadows into monstrous shapes.
"Hippocampus gray matter density exceeds by 37%," the Chief Researcher tapped on the holographic keyboard, as three-dimensional models of neural synapses stretched into coral-like formations in the air. "Look at this marginal loop; doesn't it resemble a road that has been repeatedly crushed?"
Suddenly, a piercing alarm blared through the laboratory. Lin Xiuwen's wrist strained against the restraints, and the adrenaline curve on the monitor resembled a stormy seabird in flight. Outside the Glass Curtain Wall in the Observation Room, twenty-seven surveillance screens flickered with blood-red error codes simultaneously.
"Activate Secondary Protection!" someone shouted as a coffee cup was knocked over, brown liquid dripping down the edge of the console. Lin Xiuwen caught a whiff of disinfectant mingled with rust from his memories—the warm spray of blood when he first held a scalpel and a patient's artery ruptured.
Nanoparticles in the dome began to reorganize, and the ivory-white walls peeled away to reveal an old apartment from the 1990s. Water stains formed childhood doodles on cracked wallpaper, while the musty smell from the Ventilation Duct intertwined bizarrely with his mother's jasmine perfume on her vanity.
"Target entering Trauma memory core zone," announced an artificial intelligence in a synthesized voice that trembled with electrical currents. "Recommend injecting 5ml of benzodiazepine."
Lin Xiuwen's knee knocked over the Memory Extractor. In the instant of consciousness unraveling, he saw seventeen reflections of himself in the elevator's mirrored surface. Each image was trapped in a different nightmare: a scalpel slicing open a girl's eyelids, the sound of nails scratching from a morgue drawer, and the elevator button stuck on the thirteenth floor dripping crimson wax.
"You are creating fear like Pavlov's Dog," he suddenly sneered, his lips tugging at the electrode wires. "Using my Neural Synapse as a whetstone for artificial intelligence?"
Data streams twisted across his retina into Van Gogh's Starry Night, and he heard the grinding of gears deep within his brainstem. Ethereal blue particles wove together into a human form. The mysterious woman who had appeared in the morgue walked towards him, stepping on shards of memory, her Quantum Chip glimmering with a galaxy-like glow.
"Every Trauma is an Amber of time," her voice was like a rose soaked in liquid nitrogen. "Would you like to see the gift you locked away in the basement?"
Lin Xiuwen bit his tongue. The taste of blood awakened memories of graduation day from medical school when he had hidden a Sedative in his lab coat. As the virtual elevator began to plummet, he mimicked the pose for Dissecting Frogs—his birthday gift that he had crushed at eight years old to prevent his parents' divorce.
The Bulletproof Glass of the Observation Room suddenly shattered into a web. Twenty-seven surveillance screens simultaneously played different Memory Fragments: his mother transformed into a Mechanical Arm brewing coffee, his father with a Brain Chip writing divorce papers in Binary Code, and himself repeatedly dissecting a human model in Quantum State within a Neural Interaction Pod.
"Cognitive Collapse Threshold breached!" The Mechanical Arm grabbed the researcher's shoulder and pulled him back. Lin Xiuwen saw his fear materialize as Black Slime, crawling up the Chiffon Skirt of the Artificial Intelligence Woman through the Holographic Projector.
The Barcode on her neck spun in the Data Storm, forming a mysterious Prime Sequence. As the backup power activated, Lin Xiuwen was tearing at the wires of the EEG Monitor with his teeth. His pupils reflected dual scenes: the laboratory in disarray in reality, while deep within his consciousness, the Memory Palace held an absurd funeral—seventeen versions of himself carrying a pure black coffin containing a formatted Childhood Ghost.
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