Chapter 8: “I have a database.”
Silence.
Xiang Nanli closed his eyes, the tragic scene lingering on his retinas. He wasn’t a doctor, and aside from developing terminal stomach cancer at the end, his life had been relatively peaceful; he had never seen such a bloody, visceral scene. The shock of this direct visual impact was no less intense than seeing the robot doctor on his first day of waking up.
But Xiang Nanli quickly opened his eyes and began to observe the man in front of him carefully. He even ended up kneeling on the ground to get a better look.
The focus was on the rupture in the abdominal cavity. The exposed wires looked like blood vessels, mixed in with the limited flesh and blood, resembling a strange biological machine.
It’s incredible.
A strange light flickered in Xiang Nanli’s eyes; he was almost excited.
Flesh is weak; mechanical ascension is the way.
Strictly speaking, mechanical modification and prosthetic repair were not the same profession. The former was called “Biological Robotics,” and the latter “Mechanical Repair.” They were two distinct fields. The introductory textbooks for Biological Robotics were much more expensive and required higher-level clearance—Xiang Nanli couldn’t afford them. And there were fewer than ten Biological Robotics engineers in the entire Gusu City; living in luxury, they would never come to the dangerous surface.
No one disturbed him.
Xiang Nanli lay on the ground, raised his hand, and asked softly, “Do you still have any sensation? Can I touch it?”
Xiu replied, “Go ahead.”
Xiang Nanli’s trembling hand rubbed the surface of the remaining metal shell—the tutorials called this metal “Superalloy.” It came in three types: Plastic-steel, Resistance-steel, and Adamantine. The raw materials for the latter two mostly came from outer space and were rarely harvested. While Andrew was also a robot, he basically didn’t fight, and his body was made of cheap tin.
Xiu was different.
The main material of Xiu’s prosthetic alloy was actually Resistance-steel. This metal could withstand high pressure, high heat, and extreme cold, even when thin. The tactile sensation was magical: the texture of metal, yet with the softness and temperature of skin. Although the intact prosthetic was now just a ruin, the organizational structure could still be analyzed from the cross-section. Xiang Nanli touched it again and again, resisting the urge to dismantle it and hide it away.
Then there was the beating mechanical heart. The sea-blue glowing part inside must be the “Energy Core,” a piece of black technology Xiang Nanli couldn’t yet comprehend. He guessed it was a compressed, small-scale controllable nuclear reactor.
He muttered in a daze, “You’re truly beautiful…”
How is this possible? Mechanical and living tissue fused together perfectly. When they first met, Xiu was wearing clothes, so Xiang Nanli had no idea he was a mechanical modification—once the uniform was off, it was this alluring. Carbon-based monkeys really needed to learn a thing or two.
Xin Zhui: “?”
Bodhi: “??”
Rock: “???”
Xiao Yan whispered, “Hey, where did you find this guy? Is he actually reliable?”
By mainstream aesthetic standards, Xiu’s current appearance had nothing to do with being beautiful; it was enough to scare children.
After a two-second silence, Xiu answered, “Thank you.”
Xiang Nanli clapped the dust off his hands and stood up. “Are there any modification blueprints?”
Xiu’s prosthetics were different from the mass-produced stuff in the books, which was rare for Gusu City. If there were blueprints, the repair process would be much easier.
The System said bluntly, “The most common use for high-level omnics is as personal bodyguards.” An excellent person finds it difficult to completely detach from social relationships to protect another person, but an omnic can.
Xiang Nanli understood the implication behind the System’s words.
Xiu replied, “No. Things like that aren’t usually leaked. Great engineers are very stingy; they’re afraid others will shake their status.”
Xiang Nanli said to Xin Zhui, “The raw materials aren’t enough for me to fully repair his mechanical prosthetics, but if there are usable parts, recovering his mobility is no problem.”
Xiu’s mechanization level was as high as 88 percent. Basically, everything replaceable had been swapped out. Only the head was still original equipment.
Even so, many plugins had been implanted. In a situation where parts were largely missing and the core chip was lost, wanting to restore him as before was like asking a chef to cook a royal feast with only a bag of rice. Anyone could see that it was impossible.
Xiang Nanli didn’t want to overpromise, lest he create unrealistic expectations.
Hmm, for a contractor, managing a client’s expectations was an important science. It determined whether your 80-point work received a 60-point or a 100-point evaluation.
Xin Zhui: “I know. That was our goal from the start; the prosthetics can be replaced when we get back to the city. Damage to the prosthetic causing main program failure means his energy core has been in emergency defensive mode (a protection mechanism for mechanically modified humans; when body damage exceeds 70 percent, the energy core uses stored ‘heart’ energy to force the host’s survival), which is very unsafe.”
Right, replace them. Highly mechanized, modified humans replacing their own bodies, organs, and even hearts were as natural as switching to a new phone. They possessed bodies far stronger than those of normal people, and their lifespans were greatly extended.
Sounds pretty good, right? But was it really entirely without a price?
Xiao Yan rolled over various mechanical prosthetics they had scavenged from another room in the camp.
Most were arms and legs, along with some fragments. It felt like a pile of dismembered robots.
Some clearly looked like they had been forcibly ripped from someone else’s body, without even unplugging the wires properly.
“The Donghuang Heavy Industry factory is right next door,” Xiao Yan explained. “We just flipped through the surrounding area. See if any of these are suitable.”
Xiang Nanli fished out his primitive tools from his backpack and laid them on the floor: a hammer, a wrench, a screwdriver, two sensor wires, a soldering iron, and a hot-melt gun. There wasn’t a single piece of high-tech equipment—they were expensive, and the previous repairs didn’t require them.
“Help me lay these prosthetics out.” He used the screwdriver to carve a long groove into the ground. “Put the complete body parts above the line, including the organs housed within the body; put the loose parts below the line. Also, remove all the power-supply lines (a data cable inside a robot similar to blood vessels, with built-in crystal structures used for power).”
Xiang Nanli gave his commands as if it were a matter of course. Oddly, when he spoke, there was an extremely firm, convinced power in his voice; his expression was so calm, so natural, that it made people subconsciously choose to follow his orders.
Xin Zhui was the first to start moving, cleaning up the pile of junk. The other three slowly joined the cleanup.
Xiang Nanli grumbled, “So slow. In my lab, you would have had your pay docked already.”
System: “Is that so? According to the query, there is no lab registered under your name. Would you like to check your mental health status?”
Xiang Nanli: “…”
But since they were on the subject, “Alpha, then why don’t you check?”
A few seconds later, Xiang Nanli saw the result:
Citizen ID: Q117-XJDHANSHJK (Unnamed)
Mechanization Level: 1/100
Mental State Rating: C (Your brain activity is significantly higher than the average person, leading to easy excitation, insomnia, and hallucinations; you have an ADHD tendency, though it was largely overcome after adulthood; your neurotic personality is quite prominent, with certain manic tendencies; you have no brain lesions or mental illness, hospitalization is not required, but please pay attention to your mental health.)
Xiang Nanli said gloomily, “It’s a good thing this function didn’t exist before, or my pretend manic episodes to take time off work would have been discovered…”
The System had already become accustomed to his rambling and had given up on analyzing him.
The sorting continued, and Xiang Nanli walked over to pick out the parts. He selected what he needed, placed them to one side, and then focused entirely on his work. Xiang Nanli couldn’t see anything else; a rough design appeared in his mind, just like a 3D gray model appearing out of thin air. The model appeared in its complete form at first, then automatically began to dismantle itself, scattering into different components.
This was the world through Xiang Nanli’s eyes, so clear and certain at this moment. He picked up a component and began to work. His movements were swift and precise, like a programmed machine.
“The most difficult part is actually getting the new prosthetics to be controlled by the central hub so they don’t short-circuit during operation,” Xiang Nanli said while putting together an arm. He had been chatting with the System this whole time, bypassing the need to speak aloud.
To outsiders, Xiang Nanli had been staring blankly for a long time, his hands occasionally mimicking operations in the air; then, he started working, his lips silently twitching as he moved.
Alpha: “Is that so? I, on the contrary, think you should pay attention to his energy core.”
Xiang Nanli couldn’t help but look up at the blue, glowing heart. “What about it?” He lived in an era that lacked such tech-fantasy things.
“That omnic didn’t just say he was overloaded, right?” The System paused. “There might be a voltage difference. There are generally three solutions.”
Xiang Nanli listened intently, then slapped his thigh in excitement. “So that’s how it is!”
Soon, however, Xiang Nanli looked suspicious. “But how do you know? Is there internet now?”
Alpha replied nonchalantly, “I have a database.”
Xiang Nanli’s eyes sparkled. “If you have that, doesn’t that mean I have it? Is there any knowledge I don’t know? Can you compile a PDF and send it to me?”
System: “…No internet, offline.”
Hey! That’s way too dismissive!
Xiang Nanli was truly energetic, especially when focused on something he was interested in. When he was a child, he played a racing game, not realizing it was an open-world driving game with no finish line. Xiang Nanli played it for 32 hours straight without sleeping, only giving up once he confirmed there was no finish line. Later, he stubbornly pretended to be a parent to lodge complaints with the relevant departments and the gaming platform, eventually forcing the developers to abandon their original intent and add a finish line. He crossed that line, became the No. 1 in a single-player game, and then satisfiedly uninstalled it.
It was the same when he grew up.
It wasn’t until Xin Zhui pushed his shoulder and handed him a cup of water that Xiang Nanli realized his throat was bone-dry. Including the car ride, he estimated he hadn’t drunk water or eaten in 36 hours.
Xiang Nanli put down his tools. The dizziness after focusing so hard was nearly overwhelming. “I’ll sleep a bit after I eat,” he said weakly.
No one argued. In fact, Xiang Nanli had been working at high intensity for 14 hours. He was a primitive human—no mechanical modifications, no genetic modifications; if he didn’t sleep, Xin Zhui was worried he’d pass out.
The bento box delivered by the client contained: one bottle of water and one can of nutrient paste. The can was a special version provided for investigators, very different from the cheap stuff sold in supermarkets. Once opened, you could smell a fresh, meaty aroma, not the smell of artificial food additives.
Damn, you guys get to eat this well behind the people’s backs?
Xiang Nanli picked up the can and looked at the ingredient list.
Ingredients: Beast meat (100).
“Why not chicken, duck, or pork? Why write ‘beast meat’?” Xiang Nanli wondered.
System: “Alien meat. Do you prefer that name instead?”
Mutated people were collectively called mutants; mutated animals and plants were called aliens.
Xiang Nanli lifted the transparent mask of his protective suit and tore off the black tape wrapped around his face. The tape had been on for too long; once ripped off, Xiang Nanli’s face was flushed red, the pressure marks starkly visible. His face was exposed to the air—fortunately, the radiation here wasn’t strong.
Xiu’s expression turned odd. “It’s you?”
When Xin Zhui suggested going to the city to grab a professional to help, Xiu actually had no objection. But Xiu didn’t hold much hope—his problem was quite severe.
The second-best method was contacting the Investigation Bureau; they would promise to hide their findings in exchange for treatment. That “hiding” meant not keeping the secret, but deleting the memories of this surface operation entirely.
The best method was to contact his family. But Xiu had signed an agreement when he left; if he used family resources, he would have to abandon his career as an investigator and return to fighting honestly in the heir qualification rankings.
His surname was Luo. The Luo of Luoyang.
He didn’t want either of those. Thus, he acquiesced to Xin Zhui’s risk.
Just a moment ago, Xiu was thinking that the person Xin Zhui found was actually quite reliable. He looked professional. Maybe he really could be saved.
But… but—this professional took off his mask, and how did he look so much like that antique thing he’d dug out of the shelter a month ago??
