Chapter 2
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Chapter 2: Memory Unit 7
Who are you?
Faced with this question, he didn’t think at all and directly provided an answer: “Deep Space Warrior Test Subject 1120.”
Why were you born?
“As an experimental subject for preliminary research in creating omnipotent warriors capable of independent deep space exploration.”
What do you fight for?
“For humanity.”
Whom do you obey?
“System instructions.”
Do you fear death?
“I do not fear death.”
What is death?
“Complete alteration of the body’s physical form of existence.”
All questions flashed by in an instant, and his thoughts showed no fluctuation whatsoever—all responses came purely from instinct.
The screen suddenly paused for a moment, then displayed a question:
“Among these people, whom would you shoot first?”
Below the question, eight photographs suddenly appeared—elderly people, children, and among them several familiar faces, though he couldn’t remember where he had seen them.
He realized this was knowledge protected by the system, and his own access level was insufficient to view his own memories.
However, this question fell completely outside the scope of instinctive responses, so he began carefully observing the eight photographs, thinking seriously, attempting to identify which target should be prioritized for elimination.
Yet at this moment, his thinking experienced slight confusion. ‘What criteria should I use to screen targets? Age, gender, identity, or something else—like, for instance, finding someone disagreeable?’
The appearance of this last criterion surprised even him, as he couldn’t understand how this thought had emerged.
While he hesitated, the screen suddenly dimmed, all images disappeared, and moments later it became transparent, revealing the room behind the screen.
Behind the screen stood a room full of instruments. A researcher with disheveled hair and thick glasses sat at the control desk, looking somewhat stunned at a middle-aged man who had hurriedly entered.
This man wore the same researcher’s robe, except his shoulders bore an additional black-gold stripe. This indicated his status and position ranked higher than other researchers.
For some unknown reason, seeing this man caused another subtle emotional fluctuation in him.
The middle-aged man strode quickly to the control console, glanced at the screen, and barked: “Who authorized you to arbitrarily change the questions? Stop immediately!”
The researcher at the console shrugged and said: “I just wanted to see what kind of reaction he would have when faced with an unfamiliar question outside the preset parameters. The results were indeed surprising! Look, this data segment is very interesting—how does a program evaluate whether someone is agreeable or disagreeable? If we research this further, perhaps we can discover an entirely new algorithm…”
Before he could finish speaking, the middle-aged man interrupted: “Delete it, then forget everything about today.”
The disheveled researcher jumped up, pointing at the screen with both hands: “Why! Don’t you understand the significance of this result? This might be the truly intelligent fuzzy judgment algorithm we’ve been trying to find! This could be award-winning research!”
“Before winning any awards, you’ll lose this job first. Don’t forget, our research progress is already 15% behind schedule. Just two more incidents like this, and we can forget about this year’s additional funding. Everyone’s bonuses, special allowances, and triennial vacations will be canceled. If I remember correctly, you have two children, and one of them needs tuition money soon.”
The disheveled researcher’s momentum immediately deflated by half. He smiled bitterly: “Alright, you’re the boss, you call the shots. But Dr. Chu, can’t we privately preserve this data segment?”
“No. Delete it immediately! Move aside.”
Dr. Chu firmly pushed the researcher away and began operating directly on his computer. The researcher shrugged helplessly, watching as the data deletion progress bar appeared and slowly advanced toward completion.
Just as the progress bar neared completion, the laboratory suddenly shook violently. The disheveled researcher tumbled headfirst, while Dr. Chu pressed his hand against the desk and floated into the air as if weightless, avoiding the fall.
Distant explosion sounds followed, and the room’s lighting turned to harsh red. Piercing alarm sounds instantly overwhelmed everything, with only the electronic synthesized voice repeatedly broadcasting warnings in unchanging tones:
“Warning! Base under unknown attack, damage level three. All personnel evacuate according to emergency procedures! Repeat, base under unknown attack…”
The disheveled researcher was clearly disoriented: “Unknown attack? Who would attack us?”
The room’s shaking grew increasingly violent, and explosion sounds drew closer. Dr. Chu descended from the air, and despite the room’s violent trembling, he stood as if on level ground, his body showing no sign of swaying.
He shouted sternly: “Destroy all data! Immediately!”
The disheveled researcher was stunned: “This is only a level three alert…”
“It’ll be level one soon! Think about it—who would come to attack us?”
The researcher suddenly started, lunged toward his chair, and began frantically operating the computer.
Dr. Chu reached over to fasten his safety belt, then said: “Unlock Memory Unit 7.”
“But that’s forbidden…” The disheveled researcher stared in shock.
Dr. Chu patted his shoulder: “Consider it a personal favor. You understand what that memory unit means to me.”
The disheveled researcher’s face showed internal struggle. Finally, he gritted his teeth: “Fine! At worst, I’ll lose this job—having my second child attend a slightly inferior school isn’t the end of the world!”
He rapidly input passwords, then aligned his eyes with the screen. After iris detection, he took a deep breath and forcefully pressed the confirmation key.
With a soft click, a server cabinet on one side lowered its door and ejected a chip case the size of a lighter. The chip case bore prominent red prohibition markings.
Dr. Chu quickly extracted the chip case. Before leaving, he suddenly turned back: “I won’t forget you. If… we ever have the chance to meet again.”
The disheveled researcher didn’t catch the hidden meaning in his words. He focused on clearing data, and only after a moment did he breathe a sigh of relief, muttering to himself: ‘Finally finished. If this weren’t a level one alert, I’d be in trouble… Damn it! Level one alert!!’
At this moment, the alarm lights began flashing frantically, and the warning voice doubled in speed, repeatedly broadcasting:
“Core section self-destruct program activated, countdown initiated. All personnel evacuate immediately. Repeat, self-destruct countdown activated, all personnel evacuate immediately!”
The disheveled researcher unfastened his safety belt and stumbled toward the door. At that moment, a nearby equipment cabinet suddenly exploded, and the shockwave sent him tumbling. His head struck the desk corner hard, and blood immediately flowed.
The disheveled researcher ignored the pain and crawled toward the door. As for the fire that had started in the room, he could no longer concern himself with it.
Throughout all of this, he sat quietly, motionless.
He looked at the screen before him—despite enduring explosions and debris impacts, it showed not even a single scratch—and lowered his slightly raised hand, continuing to wait. He had received no orders, so he should wait here for new instructions to be issued, or perish together with the base.
Even if he didn’t want to wait, it would be useless. This room’s walls were constructed from armor-grade alloy, impervious to any individual weapon attacks, though he didn’t know what they were designed to defend against.
He didn’t want to know the answer—instinctively didn’t want to know.
He simply sat there, watching the fire on the other side of the screen grow increasingly fierce. Under the high temperature, the screen gradually began to deform.
At this moment, he thought of nothing.
Deep in his consciousness lay several mysterious points containing data fragments. These points had limited capacity and could store very little data, but they could avoid routine purging.
Those were fragments of memories from the past.
He had once had companions—companions with only numbers like himself—and had experienced similar destruction scenarios in experiments. He knew that experiments might result in destruction, or might ultimately reveal themselves to be merely experiments. As a test subject, he lacked the ability to distinguish. However, he clearly understood that experiments didn’t necessarily lead to destruction, but thinking randomly during experiments definitely would.
Where destruction came from, he didn’t know, wouldn’t think about, and couldn’t think about.
Just then, the room’s automatic door suddenly opened. However, the door only opened halfway before jamming. A hand gripped the door edge, forcefully pulling the heavy automatic door open, and Dr. Chu strode in.
Dr. Chu had now removed his research robe and donned powered combat armor. Upon entering, Dr. Chu immediately said: “Come with me.”
He obediently stood and followed the doctor. In his system, Dr. Chu’s commands held second-highest priority. The holder of highest priority didn’t seem to be present in this base—at least, he had never seen them. Therefore, the doctor’s words constituted supreme commands that could not be disobeyed.
As soon as they exited the automatic door, a pipeline in the side corridor ruptured, and the leaked gas instantly ignited. A roaring wall of fire surged out, blocking their path.
Dr. Chu didn’t hesitate for a moment. He stepped into the side corridor entrance, directly using his body to block the fire wall, then grabbed him and hurled him into another corridor. Only then did the doctor leave the side corridor entrance and rush forward.
He saw that the doctor’s armor was completely charred black on the back.
At this moment, explosions erupted continuously everywhere, with dense smoke and flames throughout. The entire base shook violently, with damaged components constantly falling. With each explosion, debris flew in all directions—a single hit could prove fatal.
Dr. Chu advanced rapidly, constantly clearing the path ahead, finally arriving at an automatic door. The automatic door had lost power and couldn’t open.
Dr. Chu directly ejected a micro-bomb from his armor’s wrist, stuck it to the door, then pulled him behind cover.
A modest roar, and the automatic door was blasted open, creating a gap. Dr. Chu kicked the damaged door open with force disproportionate to his frame and strode inside.
The room contained rows of instruments resembling hibernation pods. Hidden memories reminded him that this seemed to be where programs were rewritten and adjusted—after each experiment, he would have his memory data cleared here.
Dr. Chu quickly inspected the equipment and soon located a machine that still functioned.
“Get in.”
He entered the machine, sat down, reclined, and prepared himself.
Dr. Chu rapidly input a series of commands on the control console, then produced the prominently red-marked Memory Unit 7. Looking at the memory unit, Dr. Chu suddenly hesitated, looked up, and asked: “Do you know what I’m about to give you?”
“Whatever it is, I will comply.” He spoke in mechanically unchanging tones.
Dr. Chu nodded. His hands suddenly began trembling slightly, as if he had made a tremendous decision, before inserting the memory unit into the slot and pressing the activation key.
A probe pierced his neck, inserting into the data interface, and a small segment of data immediately transferred. As soon as this data entered, it began clearing all restrictions and blocks in his consciousness, not sparing even many hidden underlying commands and interfaces—eliminating them one by one.
The shackles that bound and controlled him fell away, one by one.
