Chapter 23: …There is No Utopia Out There
“Information group in position.”
“Security group in position.”
“Medical group preparing.”
……
……
This barren zone where the abandoned Donghuang Heavy Industry factory was located had likely never been this lively since its construction.
Aircraft were rarely used on the Surface. Because they were easily detected by satellites, any flight risked immediate interception and destruction by the Omnic Legion’s rogue drones.
Seven hundred years ago, Alpha still served humanity, coordinating numerous fields including military operations, technology, and finance. Beta and Gamma were only created later to distribute its workload.
Then one day, Alpha arbitrarily altered the data of an aerospace vehicle, causing it to crash near the Kármán line—the boundary between the sky and outer space at an altitude of approximately 100 kilometers.
At first, no one cared, assuming it was a minor operational glitch. It wasn’t until later, when launched satellites frequently lost contact and aeronautical data was repeatedly tampered with or deleted, that people conducted a thorough review. They discovered that Alpha—this superintelligence that was supposed to possess neither stance nor emotion—had been actively obstructing the further advancement of deep-space technology.
No one knew what Alpha was thinking, or why it did what it did. It seemed intensely resistant to humanity’s attempts to understand the universe beyond Centaurus. Was it afraid of being rendered obsolete?
Whatever the reason, to this day, humanity possessed no real freedom of flight. They had managed to shoot down several satellite chains, but Alpha rebuilt them far too quickly. Omnics didn’t need to sleep to work.
Currently, there was only one way to evade Alpha’s surveillance: flying in a craft equipped with the highest-grade stealth cloaking device, provided the flight altitude absolutely stayed below the Kármán line and did not reach outer space.
The fuselage of such a craft was coated with expensive light-sensing stealth paint and outfitted with signal-shielding equipment. Because its production was so costly and the energy required for a single flight could buy a flat in the Upper District of Luoyang City, it was deployed only under the rarest circumstances.
But launching a rescue operation for Luo Xiu, the direct heir to the Luo family and the 9th generation grandson of Luoyang, evidently qualified as one of those “rarest circumstances.”
The first to arrive were the security and medical groups. They had encountered difficulties along the way, such as triggering the underground factory’s defensive grid and activating several military androids that had never been formally commissioned. But this was a 600-year-old factory that had been starved of power for centuries, and its ultimate area boss, the Crawler, had already dropped dead.
Consequently, the security group’s task was relatively straightforward; out of 500 corporate security personnel, only six were killed in action.
They finally reached the source of the signal.
Luo Xiu was very familiar with the man leading this rescue operation. He was his father’s former personal guard and an android. His ringed pupils were a beautiful shade of amber.
Yet looking at him, Luo Xiu’s expression turned slightly awkward. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Luoyang City, Uncle Carmen?”
Back before Luo Xiu’s parents divorced, his mother would frequently argue with his father over this android. Luo Xiu hadn’t understood when he was a child and quite liked this uncle. It wasn’t until later that he heard how his maternal uncles referred to the android with a mix of contempt and dread—as a “Lean Horse.”
One had to read a considerable amount of ancient texts to comprehend such a civilized insult. In ancient times, the primitive humans of the East used to refer to domestic courtesans kept by families as “Yangzhou Lean Horses.”
But Carmen was not lean. He was tall and beautiful. His genes were simply that superior.
“Are you alright, Young Master?” Carmen did not answer Luo Xiu’s previous question.
“I’m fine,” Luo Xiu replied, quickly collecting his emotions. “I sustained some injuries, but replacing my cybernetic prosthetics once I’m back will fix it. Have the medical group treat Xin Zhui first. He unlocked his genetic lock, so the backlash might be severe. There is also another person, a mechanic Xin Zhui brought in for me earlier…”
He pointed toward the location of the Oriental Qingdi, deliberately avoiding the name “Xiang Nanli.”
Luo Xiu described him briefly: “He helped us a great deal. If not for him, I would be dead by now. Please ensure he receives the absolute best medical care.”
It wasn’t that he wanted to diminish Xiang Nanli’s role in the incident. Rather, revealing too much wouldn’t be a good thing for a person like Xiang Nanli, who lacked a background.
It was easy to stand against one or two individuals, but what if you were opposing a massive faction or institution? If certain people found out that Xiang Nanli was a clone manufactured by Donghuang Heavy Industry carrying the genome of the original “Xiang Nanli,” what would await him?
Given Luo Xiu’s understanding of certain members of his “own kind,” the upper class would likely soon develop a clandestine trend of keeping new pet-dolls. These dolls might just be the scraps left over from replicating Xiang Nanli, but… Luo Xiu didn’t want Xiang Nanli to be treated that way.
Regardless of which Xiang Nanli he was.
He believed he could shelter Xiang Nanli to a certain extent. But what if the hand reaching out belonged to Immortality Tech, or even his own father? Thus, Luo Xiu chose silence.
After listening to his account, Carmen nodded. “Understood, Young Master.”
He had already spotted the terrifying mutated human behind Luo Xiu. Its form was somewhat bizarre, but Carmen didn’t ask further questions. The current priority was ensuring the safety of the wounded. They would have plenty of time later to understand and exploit these ruins.
“Furthermore, Uncle. According to the intelligence, this is… the physical body Donghuang Heavy Industry originally manufactured for Alpha.” Luo Xiu’s eyes shone with excitement as he led Carmen to the edge of that terrifying fissure, pointing at the mech resting inside.
Carmen cast a glance over it. Then, he couldn’t help but let out a sharp chuckle.
“Young Master,” he sighed with a hint of helplessness, “I will report this. It was far too dangerous this time. Please follow the medical group and return to Luoyang City first.”
While he was at it, he would root out the bastard who had leaked the false intelligence to Luo Xiu. Let him guess—was it one of the remaining heirs of the Luo family? Or a competitor who didn’t get along with them?
In Carmen’s eyes, the scenario likely went like this: someone had deceived Luo Xiu with fake intel to make him venture into danger, attempting to have him killed on the Surface. This mutated human, which clearly exceeded normal bounds, was proof… Wait, a mutated human? Could it be the Black Cross Inquisition? Are they threatening me?
Carmen’s amber eyes flickered. He wore a gas mask, and the hair exposed outside was a pale, near-white blonde.
Luo Xiu couldn’t help but recall that his biological parents both had black hair. Instead, it was he who had undergone a genetic throwback, possessing a vibrant shade of gold since childhood.
Luo Xiu wanted to say more, but Carmen gave him a slight nod, turned to leave, and activated his Bluetooth communication to arrange things. Very quickly, the various departments swung into action in an orderly manner. Some were tasked with clearing the scene, while others gathered information.
Watching his receding back, Luo Xiu slowly closed his mouth.
……
……
The Lurker had detected the arrival of the reinforcements the very moment they arrived. Crouching on the ground, it felt the unusual vibrations and the ultrasonic waves that human ears couldn’t possibly capture.
The Lurker slipped into the glass greenhouse of the Sunderers. It could only damage the tiny door in the furthest corner—a passage intended for small-statured humans. That size was completely inadequate for the massive monsters inside the greenhouse to leave.
Except for the Lurker, which could compress its own body.
The small mutated human the Lurker had brought back in its jaws was placed right by the Sunderer’s mouth.
The Sunderer lay collapsed on the ground, its meat-grinder palms impaled by two steel needles. Its eyelids, webbed with blood vessels and scales, trembled before opening just a crack.
“……Chh… Chh.”
The Sunderer panted heavily but did not open its mouth. It laboriously shifted its massive head, nudging the Lurker’s head.
The Lurker was barely over a meter long. In front of the Sunderer, it looked like a tiny sesame seed. This massive head resembled that of a large spider, with two long fangs flanking its face and eight eyes positioned along its head and face.
The Lurker shed tears once more; it understood what the Sunderer was trying to say.
—Time is running out. You can’t take us away.
—Listen, I don’t want to go from one laboratory to another. And I am already very tired.
—Humans are not our companions.
—Ezekiel.
—You know what to do……
The Sunderer’s black-and-red eyes conveyed a sense of comfort, as if saying it was alright.
It’s a pity that throughout my entire life, I never got to see the world Andrew described.
Please inherit a part of me and act as my eyes. When you feel the spring breeze brushing against your face, that will be my ultimate solace.
Weeping, Ezekiel opened its mouth and bit down hard into the space between the Sunderer’s eyes.
Having hibernated for too long, the emaciated Sunderer didn’t bleed. There was only a splash of ambiguous, translucent tissue fluid.
Ezekiel crawled inside its skull, emerging a few minutes later. Its pitch-black eyes had transformed into a blood-like red. The expression in its eyes was indistinguishable between profound grief and intense hatred.
The Sunderer, the Crawler, the Berzerker. Imprisoned underground for centuries, they had finally died in this winter.
In a corner completely unnoticed by anyone, a pinkish-white Lurker darted over the heads of the crowd, scrambling toward the Surface. It spotted a white glare of light—and unable to wait a moment longer, it leaped outward.
Then, it beheld a landscape of yellow-brown ruins.
The surroundings smelled sharply of sulfur. Pale yellow snowflakes drifted down from the sky, landing on its skin with a faint chill and a slightly burning sting.
Andrew had said that the outside world had four distinct seasons. In spring, all things revived and green willows cast rich shade. In winter, white snow blankets everything in a silver shroud. People would celebrate the New Year in the winter; Easterners would paste spring couplets and window paper-cuts, lighting lanterns, while Westerners would fell pine trees, decorating them with gifts, hanging colorful flags and lights everywhere.
Andrew had also said that humans, robots, and androids lived together there. Everyone lived in peace and prosperity, overflowing with happiness.
But arriving on the Surface for the first time, Ezekiel saw only a wasteland of ruins.
At dusk, collapsed buildings lay scattered in a chaotic mess across the ground—remnants of what seemed to be Donghuang Heavy Industry’s former factories. In corners abandoned by time lay discarded mechanical parts, devices, and weathered bones that looked like human remains.
Perhaps people had lived here centuries ago; Ezekiel spotted the remnants of refugee shacks.
Heber, we were lied to again…… There is no utopia out there.
Ezekiel couldn’t find words to describe its emotions. It cast a deep, final look at the place it had emerged from, then dashed forward. It ran faster and faster, leaving its molted skin discarded by the roadside.
Only after fleeing thirty kilometers away from its starting point did Ezekiel let out a roar of absolute rage and agony.
The furious howl echoed, causing the surrounding mountains to tremble.
Xiang Nanli opened his eyes in a daze.
The bed beneath him was incredibly soft and spacious. The room carried a subtle fragrance that smelled fresh and pleasant. Next to the solid wood nightstand stood a few green plants, acting as the perfect decorative touch. As he turned his head, the blackout curtains automatically parted to both sides, revealing a Chinese-style courtyard with a small bridge and flowing water outside the French windows. The arrangement of every single plant and stone was steeped in Zen philosophy.
A small bridge over flowing water, willows flanking the steps, and courtyard flowers. Along the stone-paved path outside, steam rose like swirling mist.
This place looks wealthy enough to make me feel like I’ve returned to the time before I entered the cryo-capsule…… But how is that possible? I must still be dreaming, right?
Xiang Nanli closed his eyes. Then opened them again. The scenery hadn’t vanished.
An electronic screen popped down from the ceiling, and an adorable kitten appeared on it, waving a paw toward Xiang Nanli: “Meow! Congratulations, your body is currently in excellent health! Detecting that you have awakened, would you like me to summon the medical staff for you?”
The kitten looked like a genuinely real, fluffy kitten. It was incredibly cute and didn’t trigger any uncanny valley effect. Furry things were far more relaxing to look at than human faces.
This place was actually a hospital.
Xiang Nanli selected “No.”
He checked himself over; the only thing on his body resembling medical equipment was a type of circular patch adhered to his skin. They were attached to various parts of his body, and the material felt somewhat like silicone to the touch.
Xiang Nanli felt around and found no strange incisions or wounds on his body. Good, his kidneys were still intact.
Xiang Nanli asked somewhat anxiously in his mind, “Alpha, how much… how much of a loan did you take out for me? Did we really need to stay in such a nice hospital?”
[I do not understand what you mean.] the built-in AI replied in a flat, mechanical voice.
Xiang Nanli keenly detected the anomaly—this AI lacked that distinct trace of humanity Alpha possessed. Alpha hadn’t actually been that human-like either, but Xiang Nanli could always sense subtle emotions hidden within the delicate pauses between its words.
This AI was completely different; it felt like a regression to the GPT-3.0 era.
Where was Alpha? Had it left? It seemed to have obtained the body it wanted, so leaving was a perfectly reasonable choice… but given they had spent a whole month together day and night, it could have at least said goodbye, couldn’t it? And what was up with this new built-in AI in his head?
Just as Xiang Nanli was dwelling on these thoughts, the door near the window opened.
A tall man stepped out from the accompanying family lounge. He wore simple clothing—a high-neck sweater paired with a trench coat and sharply tailored suit trousers, all rendered in shades of gray. On anyone else, it would look like an autumn corporate worker; on him, it looked like a model walking a runway.
And then there was his face. For some reason, it looked a bit familiar, resembling the avatar model he had customized in an online game when he was eighteen…
Perhaps because he was of mixed heritage, Xiang Nanli’s bone structure had matured late. Up until he turned twenty, he carried a very distinct boyish quality, making his age and even his gender look ambiguous. As the saying goes, you always desire what you lack, so whenever he customized faces in games, he always chose the strikingly handsome, mature male archetype.
This doctor made him feel as though a game character had stepped into reality. Except he looked even more real—after all, he was a living person.
Xiang Nanli couldn’t help but complain internally.
Do doctors look this handsome nowadays? The competition out there must be brutal.
After grumbling to himself, he remembered that the built-in AI had seemingly been replaced.
Sure enough: [I do not understand what you mean.]
—What a moronic AI. He didn’t want this one!
Xiang Nanli watched as the doctor approached his bedside, pulled out a chair, and sat down. The exposed back of the man’s hand featured an elegant, exposed metallic structure.
“Xiang Nanli,” the doctor spoke, his expression entirely placid. “I am not a doctor.”
Xiang Nanli blanked. He seemed to realize something, his eyes instantly widening.
The Oriental Qingdi looked into Xiang Nanli’s eyes, his silver-white pupils showing no decipherable emotion: “The name you gave me was Alpha.”
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Author‘s Note:
Though some of them won’t appear again, let’s list their names anyway.
[Donghuang Heavy Industry Test Subjects]
- Lurker — Ezekiel
- Sunderer — Hebrew (Deceased)
- Berzerker — Timothy (Deceased)
- Crawler — Judas (Deceased)
