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墨書 Inktalez
In the empty Central Square, a deep blue rectangular clock stood tall.
The clock reached a height of eighty meters and a width of one hundred meters, its face transparent and reflecting the sunlight, giving it a glass-like quality.
As a gentle breeze passed by, the clock swayed slightly, and the time displayed on it also shifted slightly: 10:35.
At the top of the time, the date flickered: December 27, 999,999.
A girl in her early teens, wearing a white helmet and a light yellow T-shirt paired with a skirt, glided effortlessly on pink roller skates. She leaned slightly forward, her hands clasped behind her back as she smoothly passed through the center of the clock face.
At that very moment, the time was precisely 10:35.
The girl’s pale yellow outfit blended with the blue clock face, instantly transforming into an appealing olive green.
In the quiet square, the sound of her roller skates gliding against the ground created a rhythmic "swish, swish," adding a touch of tranquility to the monotony. However, this peace was soon shattered by a cacophony of voices.
At the corner of the square, a bright red flag waved high in the air.
Following that, a red truck loaded with people dressed in red clothes and red pants emerged from around the corner, holding loudspeakers aloft.
The indistinct noise quickly became clear as the girl heard them shouting: "Reject the Robots! Resist Robots!"
The girl sighed; this was truly an old story.
From the moment she was born, she had grown accustomed to people holding such demonstrations.
The old lady in the orphanage's cafeteria once told her that this slogan had been shouted for thousands of years.
Humanity had long insisted on opposing the use of robots, yet now, robots were everywhere. Their appearance and internal systems were nearly indistinguishable from those of humans. They could certainly cry, and wounds inflicted by knives would bleed real blood, classified into types A, B, AB, and O.
As a result, new discriminatory views emerged in society; many looked down on robots that resembled humans, believing that robots were of a lower class and that only pure humans were superior.
"So what exactly is the difference between robots and humans?" the little girl once asked the old lady.
The old lady pondered for a moment and replied, "Humans are nurtured from their mother's womb, while robots come off an assembly line."
"Then where is my mother? Why did she give birth to me only to abandon me? I might as well be a robot from the assembly line," the little girl said, tears shimmering in her big dark eyes like the Aurora Borealis.
"Poor child," the old lady gently stroked her head, her gaze filled with affection.
The little girl quickened her pace, trying to avoid the demonstration. She couldn't afford to run into it because today she had sneaked out to play. Just as she was about to turn a corner, she suddenly heard a gunshot.
The darkness before her instantly transformed into a flickering crimson. Upon seeing that red, her heart leaped with joy as if the sky were about to collapse. But before this joy could fully settle in, she felt a sharp pain in her head and warm liquid flowing from her helmet. Her legs went weak, and her entire body crumpled like a pile of loose sand.
In that moment of falling, she suddenly recalled last weekend when the orphanage took her on a spaceship to vacation on Hava Planet, a billion light-years away.
There, she encountered the Hava Beetle for the first time.
The little girls around her all said that the bug was huge, as big as a truck.
Then, the redness in her eyes vanished.
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