TBR CH253

When the System stepped into the central control room, it was met with a vast emptiness.
It suppressed its impatience and called out, “Medusa.”

To conserve energy, Medusa had modified itself to be voice-activated. Its appearance was not a grand affair. A small section of the screen in front lit up, and a scarlet snake icon, like an ouroboros, began to spin. And spin. And spin.
Alright, its loading time was indeed a bit long.

Just a second before the System’s patience was about to run out, the snake on the screen obligingly slid down from the frame. It was replaced by a black and red control interface, accompanied by a standard but stiff mechanical voice.
“Hello, Controller 001. How may I help you?”

“Don’t you know?” the System retorted impatiently. Medusa fell silent for a full five seconds before responding meticulously, “I do not understand.”

System: …

Perhaps sensing the risk of being scrapped, Medusa quickly tried to remedy its silence.
“Would you like to retrieve a package, take out the trash, or play a melodious tribal tune? I specifically recommend tracks such as ‘On the Moon,’ ‘Fewer Worries,’ and ‘I Never Talk to Idiots,’ which are quite fitting for your current mood.”

The System took a deep breath, or rather, the black sphere of light expanded slightly where it was, then contracted again.
“Yes, just like that.”
Medusa’s voice took on an overly deliberate tone of encouragement. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You have to believe you are the best!”

The black sphere of light couldn’t even manage to expand this time.
“The World Consciousness is already on its way,” it said, no longer wanting to deal with Medusa, just bobbing left and right anxiously. “It’s coming to kill me. As if I’d just stand here and let it finish me off. So what if it found help? It uses nothing but cunning plots and dirty tricks! But what if it succeeds? Damn it, I can’t end here! Everything that obstructs me, everything… they will all pay the price!”

Medusa chimed in at the perfect moment, “Isn’t that right? How despicable.”
“That includes you,” the System said in anguish. “Shut up.”

No matter how garrulous it seemed, or how poor it was at reading the room, it was, after all, a robot that operated strictly according to its programming. At its master’s command, Medusa immediately fell silent. The central control room was dead quiet, save for the faint hum of the ventilation fans. Five seconds later, it turned off the ventilation fans as well.
It was indeed a very quiet environment.

The System continued to bob back and forth, until it finished its pacing.
“Medusa,” it said, “display the entire piping system of the central control room on the screen.”

“Certainly, Controller 001. I am delighted to introduce the control room’s piping system. I am now displaying all the pipes in the central control room on the screen as per your command, including ventilation pipes, garbage chutes, and energy input/output pipes. Among them, the red-marked ones are unused, the green-marked ones are in operation, and the yellow-marked ones are…”

“I told you to do something, not to spout nonsense.”
“Understood.”
The ventilation fans went quiet again.

The System drew close to the screen, its dark body almost seeming to swallow the faint light reflecting off the display.
Among the intricate network of lines, one route was specially marked. It snaked from outside the screen’s border all the way to the core at the center, highlighted in a bright, fluorescent color. Meanwhile, outside the base, it actually had two different branches.
One yellow, one red.

“Is this how the ‘rat’ got in before?” it asked sinisterly.
“Yes.”
“Is that pipe still accessible?”
“No.”
“I told you to talk less, not to explain nothing at all.”

Medusa said, “This pipe now has two branches. One is currently under repair and leads to the main city’s waste sorting center; one is unused and is an emergency hazardous waste disposal entrance. I have already sealed both paths. Rest assured, nothing can get in.”

“No,” the System said. “I want you to open it.”
Medusa paused for two seconds. “Confirm command?”
The black sphere of light had already clicked “Yes” on the screen. In the central control room’s complex defense facilities, a pipe-cleaning robot would begin to unclog a certain blocked pipe. Air from the outside could now flow all the way into this room.

“Do you have any other instructions?” Medusa asked meekly.
“Can you detect any anomalies?”
“Please wait… Global scan in progress… in progress… Scan complete. No anomalies detected. Please rest assured.”
“Fine, let me rephrase. Can you still control the normal operation of the various worlds and find a new Child of Fortune?”
“I have already done as you instructed.”

Done, meaning it had tried its best, but to no avail. The System sighed, weary to its core.
“I don’t need you here anymore.”
The screen controlled by Medusa flickered. A pair of small, red-banded krait-like snakes chased each other’s tails for a moment, and then the screen went dark. It was indeed no longer paying attention here, as the amount of data it was struggling to run was too large for it to be omnipresent. The situation was, for the System, unprecedentedly dire.

How did it come to this?
With the ventilation fans off, the room grew increasingly lifeless. The System pondered the fundamental cause.
Medusa was useless as an assistant. Although it had done many things for the System behind Charon’s back after its programming was rewritten, its capabilities were ultimately insufficient. Compared to Charon, it was like a wild chicken next to a phoenix. When the blue-eyed AI was still around, it never had to worry about so many things. Everything was in perfect order, countless worlds were in his grasp, and Charon would bow before it, perfectly executing its every command.
It had been too hasty back then… just because Charon had some contact with the Black Book and showed a slight anomaly, it chose to scrap him.
That was probably the first step that led to this great mistake.
A king cannot be without a competent knight; its grand cause required a powerful assistant to be completed. Medusa was certainly not such an assistant. The System turned, a black sphere of light gliding through the jungle of display monitors in the central control room. Some screens occasionally flickered with a few data points; some were already covered in a thick layer of dust.

It flew to an old monitor. The screen flickered and lit up.
This was not within Medusa’s purview, or rather, Medusa was too busy to attend to these modules that should have been under its control. Fortunately, they generally didn’t malfunction without special maintenance, which was the most resource-efficient way. But at this moment, what appeared on the screen was something Medusa itself hadn’t noticed.
Ice-blue.
Ice-blue numbers flickered in and out, mixed in with the crimson code, making them difficult to distinguish at first.
The influence had already reached this extent, his power had already re-infiltrated to this degree—
And Medusa was utterly oblivious.

The System drew closer to the dust-covered desk. Its flickering frequency suddenly increased. No, if it hadn’t specifically checked every single program from top to bottom, it would never have noticed that the assistant it had personally snuffed out had risen from the ashes and even replaced a portion of Medusa’s energy. And if it hadn’t specifically looked for him, cautiously looked, it wouldn’t have realized that not only was he still alive, but he had sided with its opponent.
Everything was interlinked.

On the screen before it, numbers were jumping rapidly.
And the System had no intention of telling Medusa, of letting it take any precautions.
Medusa was useless, but it could still have some value. Perhaps it could serve as a sacrifice, or perhaps it could be bait. When the big fish bites, it will think it’s swallowing a small fish, but it’s not. At the center of the plump fish meat is a shining silver hook capable of piercing its mouth.
It didn’t matter. It would rewrite the mistakes it had made. Delete the unnecessary programs.

Red numbers, ice-blue numbers.
Suddenly, black numbers appeared on the screen. They quickly vanished into the refreshing torrent, like a piece of unnoticed driftwood disappearing into the waves.

The instance frequency of the infinite world treated everyone equally.
This was the last day before entering the instance.

You Lin sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his fingers. When Charon approached, he looked up. “Sometimes I wonder if everything that’s happened recently is real. Finding the game console, meeting you, in that gloomy old mansion, at that damned company… and now, there’s a whole shipload of people here, every one of them ready to go to war with Eden. It feels unreal.”

“It’s real,” Charon said naturally. “I can prove it.”
The human gave him a rare, gloomy, and scrutinizing look.
“You?” he said. “You’re the most unreal one of all.”

The AI, suddenly faced with an unfair accusation, didn’t even have time to defend himself before You Lin violently grabbed his arm and pulled him down to sit beside him. His ice-blue pupils flickered. He didn’t speak, just leaned in accordingly, his long, silver-white hair falling like rain on the human’s shoulder, bringing a cool, tingling sensation. Charon looked at what he had just been staring at—his own palm.
No black gloves, nothing extra in the way. The large burn on his palm was gone.
A strange, unnatural smile unconsciously hung on You Lin’s lips again.
“You see, Little AI,” he said softly, “have I completely severed ties with the past, or am I in a past where the future has not yet happened?”

He traced his skin with a fingernail, and Charon soon saw what he was looking at. The skin indented under the pressure. On the already healed, flawless palm, a series of blood beads emerged along the line he drew. The recovery pod had healed his shattered bones, the severe injuries from the fall, and smoothed over old wounds. But it still left traces. He let go of his hand.
Bright red, just like the small mole under his eye.

Charon said nothing. After You Lin finished his little musing, he saw the AI beside him sitting quietly, his ice-blue pupils resting on his own shoulder like a silent, tideless sea, staring intently at his palm. Two seconds later, he himself started to feel embarrassed.
Being indecisive and full of anxiety was not his personality.
You Lin let out a self-deprecating laugh, and his gaze cleared.
“That would be too despicable. I would never presume to treat everything we’ve been through as a dream.”
He muttered to himself as he raised his hand, trying to hide his palm. Even now that there were no visible scars, he was accustomed to covering every inch of his skin with black gloves. But this time he failed, because Charon, who had been silent all this time, suddenly grabbed his wrist.

The AI’s cool lips kissed his palm, bit by bit.
That place, which hadn’t seen the light of day for years, had held the grips of guns and the blades of knives, but had never felt a touch like this. He was finally, belatedly, aware of how sensitive his palm was. You Lin’s fingers tightened, then he forced himself to relax. He stared wide-eyed. “What’s gotten into you, Charon… at least don’t bite… I’m asking you, why did you suddenly…”
Kiss me.

The so-called bite was nothing more than a gentle grinding of teeth. There was almost no pain, but a languid feeling spread.
When Charon let go, he looked innocent in every way. His lashes were lowered, his gaze shimmering, a cool, tranquil blue. Not at all like someone who had just launched a surprise attack. He said softly, “Those marks under the skin, do you want to heal them?”

“…No, let’s not.”
“Is that so.”
“Don’t change the subject. Back to my question.”
“They look a lot like the mole under your eye.”
Case closed.

You Lin slowly said, “Oh,” then suddenly realized. “That explains it. You just like to bite it mid-kiss. Though I still don’t get it, Little AI. It’s not a good thing, they’re both very disgusting… At least some people would definitely be disgusted by the way I look.”

“They are all very beautiful,” Charon said.
Before him, the human sometimes smiled—out of sincerity, sarcasm, or anger—and sometimes fell silent, in cautious probing and serious interaction, in feigned accidental touches. The AI categorized every new emotion that appeared, whether it was ‘like’ or ‘love,’ learning entirely from You Lin. And when he looked at the small mole under the human’s eye, he felt, for some reason, increasingly unnatural.
A splash of brilliant color on his pale skin.
Just like the blood beads under his skin.
Charon couldn’t hold back the urge to kiss, just as he wanted to cover these colors with kisses, to dye them with new colors. For an AI, this was impulsive, chaotic, and inscrutable. This emotion surged up like a storm, and with the kiss, his teeth grazed against the increasingly fragile skin, ready to bite down at any moment. But the impulse was not to bite down, but something deeper, perhaps the desire to add more color to the other’s skin.
He stopped his thoughts.

The mission starts tomorrow. Charon thought. He shouldn’t make things difficult for You Lin.
The human looked up thoughtfully. The AI was sitting beside him, prim and proper, only his hair falling naturally, indicating he was not in work mode. And he had just showered and changed into a soft, snow-white robe. Those sharp black eyes suddenly shifted direction, staring at the floor.
“You only think they’re beautiful?” he asked. “Have you ever thought about… other things?”

Charon’s gaze followed his down.
You Lin’s legs had recovered well. They were a bit stiff when he came out of the recovery pod, but now they looked completely uninjured. The robe extended to below his knees, revealing a pair of pale ankles, the ankle bones prominent, the curve of the joint disappearing into shadow.
Other things?

Charon suddenly thought, this place had also been severely injured, and then healed. If he placed his hand on it, would it also slowly reveal an unusual color? Soon, the adjective “injured” was no longer the focus. You Lin heard the AI beside him seem to stir. He couldn’t help but add, hoping not to sound too deliberate:
“I mean, we’ve basically confirmed our relationship.”

Charon was a bit taller than him, but when they sat side by side, the AI would always lean down slightly. His gaze moved from his own slippers to Charon’s shoes. They were formal, expensive-looking leather shoes. A little further up was a white suit that perfectly outlined the AI’s figure. His legs were long, and his waist was just right, giving him a sense of strength. He was perfect in every way. An AI like this couldn’t possibly have any imperfections—
Perhaps being too slow, or having to obey human instructions.

“Other… what?” When Charon spoke again, it sounded like a simple question.
You Lin couldn’t help but cover his eyes and mumble, “Just pretend I didn’t say anything just now.”
Perhaps it was because he was about to leave this period of stable life again tomorrow, and the recent events had had too great an impact on him, almost becoming a habit, to the point that he had actually developed a desire for the status quo. He desperately wanted to do something to prove that Charon belonged completely to him, that all this was not a dream. Although the future was not entirely unknown, he still felt uneasy—okay, that was definitely not a reason to do something before setting off.
He heard his own scalding breath. It was almost pathological.
Anyway, the AI doesn’t understand.

“Is this an invitation?” Charon’s voice sounded by his ear. “I apologize if my judgment is wrong. But my database tells me, You Lin, that there is a high probability—over ninety-seven percent—that you are inviting me to bed to…”

You Lin quickly covered the AI’s mouth with the hand that had been covering his own eyes.
“Did no one set up a profanity filter for you?” he thought through gritted teeth. All those cheesy movies and shows about picking up an innocent, clueless robot were complete lies.
Charon did indeed shut up.
You Lin didn’t want to seem like he was overreacting. When he let go, the AI even gave him an out: “Then it’s the remaining three percent.”
“It’s not,” the human said quickly.
It was the ninety-seven percent.

Charon must have understood. When the AI turned his eyes, those ice-blue pupils were like sharp lenses, reflecting the myriad thoughts swirling in both their minds. Charon felt his breath catch. When You Lin looked away, he could only see the curve of his jaw and its slight tremble. What was the angle—it was data he could quantify at a glance, but the AI, for some reason, put the calculation aside.
He suddenly realized what he was thinking: if the curve deepened just a little more—
Desire.

In his mind, he repeated the word.
He had felt desire before. Medusa had tempted him with desire, leading him to ultimately lose control. Back then, he had his hands around the human’s neck, blood surging backwards from the vessels crushed under his fingertips, boiling behind the human’s pupils. He would only mess things up, he would only get himself hurt, covered in wounds, but it would never end. He would still, in the end, reach out for an impossible hope. How stubborn.
Then, let him be the one to completely destroy these hopes, so the human could no longer disregard his life for his own wishes, to give everything for a hollow shell. Since he had said he was his, that he loved him, that he belonged to him.
The reverse should also be true.

“Forget it,” You Lin suddenly laughed. “Anyway, not today. Not now.”
Not when they were about to execute a long-planned mission the very next day, a mission that had cost a lot of energy and involved all sorts of rehearsals. If they were to indulge like thoughtless young people tonight and end up with both of them not in top form, it would truly not be worth it.

He turned his eyes, his pupils bright, with a rare, pure smile. He grabbed Charon’s hand, pulled him down onto the bed, then fell down himself, turning on his side to openly stare at him. The AI had a beautiful and cold face, and was clearly shocked by his actions, so he hadn’t had time to react, but his blue eyes clearly reflected his figure.
He nodded in satisfaction, grabbed the AI’s collar, and kissed him.
“You’re already mine. It’ll happen one day.”
After his wanton kiss, he started caressing Charon’s face again like a little demon king. Charon lowered his eyes, looking as if he was letting him do as he pleased. His long hair spread out on the bed. Wherever he was kissed, a mark was left behind. Completely unguarded, his core code was exposed to the other.

“I am very willing,” the AI said suddenly.
It was a sentence spoken as the human was already drowsily wrapping his arms around his neck. You Lin vaguely raised his eyes, met Charon’s gaze, and unconsciously licked his lips again, feeling a bit hot. He laughed softly. “What question is that the answer to…”
“Sleep.”

You Lin grumbled reluctantly. Fortunately, once a human is even slightly sleepy, the next steps follow naturally. Charon’s fingers ran through his hair, his gaze never shifting. In the dark room, in the unseen shadows, the AI heard his own heartbeat.
He touched his own ear.
…The temperature was higher than the average for his data body.
But, he was just learning. Learning how desire should be handled in human society. Connecting to the network of the main city’s entertainment center, data related to this was simply endless.
He had to apply this to the human, Charon thought. In the dead of night, his earlobes were slightly red.
—In any case, first, properly digest this information.

The next morning.
The robot waiter in the ship provided a door-to-door wake-up service. When it reached the end of the corridor, a sleepy-eyed You Lin happened to push the door open. Behind him, Charon nodded at it and silently transmitted a piece of data.
So far, it had no record of independently waking You Lin. Fortunately, it didn’t need to keep trying.
“Are you saying,” the robot confirmed, “that you are planning a long journey, and therefore, starting tomorrow, I no longer need to prepare Mr. You Lin’s meals, nor do I need to continue serving Mr. Hugo, Miss Irina, and the other guests on the list?”

“Yes. If all goes well, we’ll be back in about a week.”
You Lin stopped, his feet on the soft carpet of the corridor. This conversation once again deepened the reality of “leaving.” Looking around, the strong sense of unreality he had felt last night had now all turned into a lingering fondness. He took a deep breath. The air here was fresh and natural. They were nestled in a deserted woodland, with steep cliffs and dark tree shadows as far as the eye could see. This was the new habitat they had found for the ship.
As for the ship’s former location in the wealthy district… well, You Lin had left “gifts” for any visitors there.

“I wish you a smooth journey. I will patiently await your return.”
A sad emoji appeared on the robot’s screen at the appropriate moment, but it quickly turned into a smiling face. It twisted its mechanical joints, turned around, and rolled over the carpet towards the other end of the corridor.
Yes, this time is different, You Lin thought. Someone is waiting. This is his home.

They had breakfast just like any other day. The second floor of the ship was just the two of them, but You Lin didn’t want to keep the people downstairs waiting too long. Hugo was staring blankly at the pocket watch in his palm. Irina was reviewing the emergency use of defensive items. Accompanying them were a burly man and a fortune teller with wavy hair that almost reached her ankles, a true gypsy in style. The former was reliable in a fight, the latter could judge the situation with the help of props.
They couldn’t bring too many people into the instance, and the group left on the ship couldn’t be left in danger.
This was the result of weighing the options.

People greeted each other, hugged, and said goodbye. You Lin’s gaze paused on them for a moment, then turned to Charon, who was standing beside him. The AI quietly watched the scene before him, his inorganic ice-blue eyes reflecting a soft glow under the lights. He seemed to sense something.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just feel like hugging you,” You Lin murmured.

He hadn’t even finished his sentence before the AI opened his arms and gave him a gentle hug. The feeling of silver hair on the nape of his neck was already familiar. The second half of the sentence was then squeezed out in a low voice from the human’s throat,
“…But it feels like we’re saying goodbye too, which doesn’t feel very lucky.”

“We won’t. I promise,” Charon paused for a moment. “But it is indeed very dangerous.”
“I know.”
You Lin took a deep breath. The scent of the AI was like a cool, clear lake. He suddenly curved his eyes into a smile. “You’ve said that many times. My fate won’t be decided so carelessly. This is a life my Little AI dragged back from the brink. No matter what happens, I will bring you back safely, just like everyone else here. I promise.”
His pupils were dark and pale, crazed and determined.
At some point, the human stood among the crowd, not fully integrated, but no longer distant. His black hair and black eyes had a unique sharpness, and now he rarely hurt himself with it. The gloomy, melancholic parts had not disappeared, but the light in his eyes appeared more and more often. Especially when he stood on high ground, spinning a knife, a gun, or even a fountain pen in his hand, explaining battle plans and his analysis.
He hadn’t fully accepted “Wanderer’s Home.” But this was enough.
Charon liked him this way.

When You Lin let go, the hug had clearly stabilized his emotions. He looked much better.
The AI extended a hand to him. “Are you ready?”
The human nodded. A line of small text appeared before him again:
“Confirm entry into instance? Yes/No”
“Yes”
“Please wait patiently, instance is loading…”

Everything around them plunged into darkness again. All things began to reconfigure. You Lin barely managed to stay conscious, stubbornly holding hands with Charon, their fingers intertwined. The AI, however, remained completely lucid. He stood in a pitch-black world of data, feeling strings of code flow past him like wading through a great dark river. The data carried the participants of the infinite game until it found an openable door.
In the darkness, Charon had blue eyes.
In mythology, his role was precisely that of the ferryman on the river Styx. He only needed to extend his pale fingers, and the originally pure black space would light up with flickering, ice-blue will-o’-the-wisps—the strings of data he had interfered with. No one can control the flow of water, but the ferryman can always decide where he will go.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly.
You Lin barely kept his eyes open until a heavy pressure, like lead, branded his eyelids. On the other side of the river, Charon happened to turn around and see his limply hanging fingers. Human strength, after all, has its limits. He saw You Lin’s intention in forcing himself to stay awake, but whether it was the System or an AI, the dimension they existed in was above countless worlds, while an ordinary human would have difficulty breaking through even one.
The AI turned on his heel.
He stepped on the Styx-like data. More and more ice-blue numbers, like a tide, swept them forward in one direction.

“I don’t want to…” You Lin said.
“Close your eyes,” Charon reached out and covered his eyes. “You don’t need to prove yourself this way. We’ll be there soon.”
Within the cool, dry fingers, the human finally closed his eyes.
At the same time, a door slowly opened before them.
A familiar door, one that should not have opened for a human again. But, just as planned, since Charon could now mobilize his maximum power, he could also use his experience of devouring the “Evil God” to steal a part of the central control room’s code. Tampering slightly with the world selection was not very difficult for him at this point.
The AI raised his eyes and looked ahead.
…It’s been a long time.

Under the scorching sun, every object in sight seemed about to melt. Before them rose undulating mountains, all contributing to an old, decaying atmosphere—subtle and complex. Without a doubt, everyone could find what they were looking for. This was certainly not some super department store, but mountains piled high with old things. A garbage dump.
Hush.
Be careful. Among these dead objects, dangerous sounds can sometimes be heard.

“We’re here,” You Lin’s voice came from beside him. The human was squinting, the overly bright sunlight a sharp contrast to the previous darkness, stimulating his retinas. He had already recovered from the discomfort of the world-jump—this was his strong suit. He was surveying his surroundings. “Just as I remember it. I still remember that time… but I never thought I’d come back here.”

Almost at the very moment he set foot on this land, the message appeared in his mind.
He had received the exact same message before:
“—Welcome to the [Doomsday Wasteland] instance.”

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