Chapter 67: “The humans back then did not wait for spring, and neither did I.”
After Xiang Nanli spoke, he didn’t wait for Dongfang Qingdi’s reply; he just hopped off and walked away happily.
Human emotions were complex and myriad, truly difficult to analyze.
Dongfang Qingdi stood alone in place, short fragments continuously flashing through his mind. He didn’t know how to process this pile of extraneous data unexpectedly generated in his background processes. Perhaps humans would better understand this emotion—ecstasy.
He didn’t believe in God; he was a steadfast materialist. Yet, the moment Xiang Nanli embraced him, Dongfang Qingdi had silently thanked the heavens for their mercy countless times in his heart.
Unlike humans, who could only rely on memory to retain a blurry impression, the scene in Dongfang Qingdi’s mind was as clear as a completed 3D model. No matter how much time passed, he could recall it and observe it again.
He repeatedly viewed it dozens of times from different perspectives, using different analytical models, combined with Xiang Nanli’s biometric indicators at the time (including several important hormones, body temperature, respiration, heart rate, etc.), and came to the following conclusions:
- Xiang Nanli is truly beautiful.
- Xiang Nanli was in a very good mood at the time. If I had followed my instinct and kissed him, the probability of getting hit was only fifty-seven percent.
The base’s power test only lasted for a very short time.
In the main control room, Xiang Nanli shut off the power supply to most areas of the city.
The ruins, which had been illuminated for a brief moment, dimmed back into the snowy night.
“Without the geothermal power supply system, the Survivor Base is just an abandoned ruin.” Xiang Nanli only left the final row of water circulation pipes running. Currently, the base didn’t need that much electrical energy anyway. “But once we can produce electricity, many people will want to come and take a piece of the pie; we can’t gamble that everyone we meet in the no-man’s land will be a good person. Biding our time and developing quietly is absolutely necessary.”
Gospel nodded with profound understanding.
But the benefits brought by electricity were obvious.
When Xiang Nanli went to sleep, he could finally luxuriously turn on his electric blanket without worrying about the diesel generator running out of fuel.
Lying in his warm bed, he let out a yawn, but his mind remained entirely awake due to overexcitement.
Xiang Nanli opened the map Xiao Zhi had downloaded from the Human Alliance’s backend.
The Investigation Bureau collected military funding every year to survey the surface, so they always had to produce some actual results. And the surface map was a very crucial part of that.
Xiang Nanli’s citizen tier was very low. The map was two-dimensional, and he could only see an area within a 500-kilometer radius centered around Gusu City.
Xiang Nanli found the “Eternal City” on the map. Clicking on it brought up an introduction: Human Alliance – Gusu City – Strategic Cooperation Surface City.
Xiang Nanli couldn’t help but roast it: “The Eternal City has been invaded so full of holes by the Divine Court that it’s practically a sieve; where exactly does the cooperation with the Human Alliance come in?”
“With too few people and insufficient funds, the Investigation Bureau lacks the ability to do as it wishes. The map was initially updated once a year, then it became once every ten years.” Dongfang Qingdi’s calm voice rang out, “Most areas on the surface are no-man’s land, unsuited for establishing settlements anyway, so there’s no need for repeated surveys.”
Every marker on the map held a different meaning.
Blue and green indicated relative peace and a friendlier attitude toward Human Alliance residents; black and red were danger zones. They either had powerful mutated species gathered there, or they were within the sphere of influence of the Divine Court or rogue Omnics.
But on the surface, no area was truly safe.
The areas obscured by gray on the map represented zones that were temporarily unexplored.
Xiang Nanli zoomed in on the map and estimated the location of the Survivor Base.
The base was to the northeast, almost perfectly wedged at the very edge of the display range.
This area had previously been explored by the Investigation Bureau, and they had left their markers on the map (the Investigation Bureau only marked settlements with populations over 10,000). There were two registered human settlements near the base: one called Rome City and the other Radiance City. According to the introductions, their technological levels were still stuck before the Third Industrial Revolution.
The Human Alliance actually deliberately controlled the technological development of surface cities, preventing any settlement from suddenly producing a genius who would light up the tech tree and shake the Human Alliance’s ruling position.
These settlements looked vibrant and full of life, but destroying them would only take a single missile.
Facts had proven that the Human Alliance’s strategy was highly successful.
Over the past few hundred years, only one anomaly like the Divine Court had ever emerged on Planet Centauri.
Based on the scale, Xiang Nanli estimated that the nearest human settlement was a hundred kilometers away from the base.
Only then did his mind finally settle.
Heh, currently, our base only has 11 people, including the robots, and our only weapon is Dongfang Qingdi. The previous owner of the base didn’t leave any weapons behind either; they were probably all hauled away.
If Xiao Qing receives an order from his leaders to go on a business trip, wouldn’t the base just be a sitting duck for anyone to attack?
Xiang Nanli muttered to himself: “It’s decided. Once Beichen’s laboratory is completed, we’ll head to the Eternal City!”
He wanted strong laborers!
Having said this, Xiang Nanli closed his eyes and fell asleep.
When he woke up again, it was 7:00 AM. His biological clock had always been steady.
An extra line of text had appeared on the memo left by Xiao Qing, saying Gospel had called him away to build the laboratory and that breakfast was by the stove.
In the entire base, only Xiang Nanli required long periods of sleep. The rest of them, including Beichen, were working 007 (Xiao Bei’s brain needed rest, but while resting, he could set it to “AFK mode” to complete simple mechanical labor). This made Xiang Nanli sweat drop with guilt.
He got dressed, hopped onto a bicycle assembled from scrap parts, and rushed toward the factory building, a packet of hot nutrient liquid dangling from his mouth.
A day of hard work began with the daily maintenance of equipment.
The thermal conduction device was currently the base’s second most important asset.
Its most important asset was Xiao Qing.
Xiang Nanli parked the bicycle at the entrance, walked into the power plant’s main control room, and looked at the data on the screens. The circuits in all areas were normal, and the equipment operating underground hadn’t suffered any malfunctions like cracking.
Xiang Nanli nodded in satisfaction and casually glanced at the power consumption. He couldn’t help but let out a surprised “Huh.”
Overall power consumption was 50% higher than his estimate.
Xiang Nanli pulled up the charts, unconsciously rubbing his chin: “Is the loss due to aging circuits increasing? Or is there a loss in the middle of the steam circulation equipment? But we’ve tested the drive turbine several times; there shouldn’t be any problems?”
The division of labor in modern society was highly precise. Even within the STEM fields, different majors taught entirely different skill sets.
The fact that Xiang Nanli was able to get the geothermal energy device running again in a short time, relying on self-study and AI tutoring—half-guessing his way through—was already a testament to his extraordinary talent.
Logically speaking, when the device could operate normally, obsessing over these details was entirely unnecessary, but Xiang Nanli was exceedingly stubborn.
As he looked, he couldn’t resist flipping through a few more books and repeatedly calculating on paper with his electronic pen several times. Finally, he contacted Dongfang Qingdi, who was hauling bricks at the construction site, and said sternly, “Xiao Qing.”
“Look, this is the calculated power consumption; this is the actual backend data from the steam power plant.” Xiang Nanli held up the tablet, drawing a heavy red line under a number. “Xiao Zhi and I calculated pretty much the same data. Ruling out the possibility of outsiders stealing electricity, I believe there is only one remaining reason: there is equipment running secretly that we don’t know about!”
This deduction was well-founded and reasonable, but it defied common sense.
Over the past half-month, in order to find a suitable location for the laboratory, Xiao Fu had turned the base upside down, inside and out. If there were any hidden facilities, they should have been discovered long ago.
However, Dongfang Qingdi compared the data and replied, “I agree.”
Numbers are precise, and mathematics is certain. Feelings will deceive you, but data will not.
And after the robots spent an entire day digging three feet deep, they finally found a building on the edge of the base that wasn’t recorded in the backend.
The entrance to the building was a sealed metal door embedded into the hillside, angled upward toward the sky. An electronic screen on the metal door panel displayed two glowing lines of text:
Temperature: 2°C.
Humidity: 4.7%
“What is this? Temperature and humidity? Storage?” Xiang Nanli brushed off the gravel and snow covering it, curiously knocking on the door panel.
This door was highly concealed. It had been discovered by Xiao Fu. The surface had long since been buried under snow and permafrost.
It was only after the “Screw” robots, 02 and 03, dug down four or five meters with shovels that it finally saw the light of day again.
And the reason Gospel noticed it was due to a subtle electromagnetic reaction.
Stepping on a small line of symbols at the bottom of the door, Xiao Fu’s tone was full of surprise: “Is this me?”
Xiang Nanli bent down to look at the text: “Gospel No. 1.2.6…?”
Xiao Fu came from the Eternal City, and its version number was 1.2.5.
The original name of Ruin No. 1074 was lost to history, but judging solely from the architecture, its technological level was clearly higher than that of the Eternal City. At the very least, the residents here had their own flat-roofed houses equipped with floor heating, rather than living in earthen houses like the slaves in the outer city.
Holding his lamp, Xiang Nanli searched for the keyhole on the door: “Xiao Fu, do you know 1.2.6?”
“No,” the mechanical dog replied somewhat embarrassedly. “Xiao Fu only has memories of the Eternal City. I was formatted. My initial settings cannot be formatted, so I know I am Gospel, and I know how to farm and raise livestock… but I don’t know who 1.2.6 is.”
Dongfang Qingdi broke the silence: “The original body of Gospel was a space warship, an absolutely massive one. To facilitate movement, it dismantled itself into 206 pieces. 206 Gospel units piloted different bodies, wandering the surface. Yet, not a single one completed the mission assigned to them by the main host.”
When the main host dismantled itself, it passed down only one conviction to its sub-units—to provide for and support humanity.
Thus, the Gospel units passed through the hands of various human factions.
Some vanished entirely into history, turning to ash; some were formatted—people kept their useful bodies but rejected their souls, just like the previous Xiao Fu.
On Planet Centauri today, one could no longer scrape together 206 little Gospels. Humanity could never piece Apostle III back together again.
To think there was actually one unit here. Then again, the base wasn’t too far from the Eternal City.
Xiang Nanli spaced out for a moment: “206, that’s exactly the number of bones in the human body.”
Xiao Fu thought for a moment and replied, “Then Xiao Fu is a rib. I used to live in the abdomen of the space warship.”
Dongfang Qingdi attempted to hack into Gospel.
But clearly, this device was much harder to crack than the previous ones. Especially since, no matter which unit of Gospel it was, they all harbored an intense hatred for Alpha.
Previously, in the Eternal City, he was able to successfully hack the main system because Xiao Fu offered no resistance.
Now, the hacking progress was stuck at 97%.
1.2.6 couldn’t resist Alpha’s data invasion, but it could choose to self-destruct.
This could cause Dongfang Qingdi to catch an unknown electronic virus. Or, he could be overwhelmed by the data stream, causing a memory overload and system crash—which would likely manifest as him running a fever for a while.
Dongfang Qingdi had no desire to be bitten by a rabid dog just yet. Frowning slightly, he paused the operation.
He looked down at the mechanical dog by his feet: “You do it.”
Xiao Fu frantically shook its head: “My body is still in the Eternal City. My current functions are no different from a real mechanical dog! How am I supposed to do it? Scout, are you incapable?”
Alpha wanted to mock it for being useless, but he worried that being too mean would ruin his image in Xiang Nanli’s heart.
Resting his hand thoughtfully on the metal door handle, Xiang Nanli muttered: “This looks like an electronic lock?”
A blue light flashed at the position of the peephole on the door.
A second later, a mechanical voice rang out: “Biological authentication passed. Species: Human.”
But the door didn’t open. About half a minute later, a young man’s voice spoke: “Hello. What year of the New Calendar is it currently? What month and day?”
“April 29, New Calendar Year 947.”
“Is that so? It’s been so long… April 29th, it’s spring.”
1.2.6’s voice sounded somewhat lost.
Another half minute passed, and the metal door automatically opened: “Please come in.”
Inside was the smell of rot and mold, but it wasn’t the smell of damp rot; it was the smell of moldy grain.
Holding his lamp, Xiang Nanli confirmed there was no danger before walking inside, accompanied by the two Omnics.
1.2.6 was originally Gospel’s fuel tank, holding liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen. Now, it was a granary. The walls were arched, resembling a tunnel. Flat, cylindrical iron cans sat on the smooth concrete floor. An electronic screen was installed on the surface of each can, synchronizing the storage status in real time.
These cans were storage silos. Or rather, modernized metal granaries.
Standing inside the massive cavern was a plain-looking tin man. One glance told you it was an old-model robot from hundreds of years ago. It had no other hardware equipped.
The sole purpose of this mechanical body was to house Gospel No. 1.2.6 and facilitate its movement. Artificial intelligence is like the soul of a machine.
This robot’s eyes glowed, and its exterior looked like a trash can with wheels.
It spoke in a flat, straightforward tone: “The year I fell asleep was New Calendar Year 287. I stayed here alone for a very long time until I powered down. As an artificial intelligence, I have no concept of time.
“I am the seed vault of Settlement No. 1074. My responsibility was to store these seeds, and when spring arrived, distribute them so food could be grown. Every year, the quantity of seeds was calculated based on the population. If there weren’t enough seeds, grain production the following year would fall short, and famine would strike the settlement.”
Its body moved past the rows of cylindrical granaries, its hand caressing their metallic shells, and it spoke: “This is modified rice, this is wheat, these are leafy greens, these are potatoes… Ah, there are also some animal specimens here, premium breeds placed in the space capsule back then. The leader of 1074 said he would find someone to study them. In the end, he kept telling me there was a gap in knowledge and no suitable candidates. I actually understood that he was just brushing me off. He never even tried to look.”
1.2.6 thought back to the leader of the settlement.
He was a depressed, frustrated middle-aged man, a technician who could barely be called an engineer.
Wearing a protective suit, the engineer had climbed to the top of the mountain, originally intending to commit suicide and end his miserable life, only to encounter Gospel, which had just landed on the peak.
1.2.6 dismantled parts from its own body and assisted him in building the geothermal power device, providing electricity for the settlement.
At first, the population was small, and the engineer always chatted with it, dreaming of the future. Later, he became increasingly busy, the settlement grew larger, and the number of times they met became fewer and fewer.
The engineer had promised it many things, but sadly, he accomplished very few in the end. He even stripped away its permissions, leaving it with only the identity of a seed vault manager. But even so, 1.2.6 performed its job extremely well.
The engineer said he no longer cared about reviving human civilization. Now that he had food to eat every day, women to sleep with, a wife, and many children, his current life was very good.
As for those wandering outside? What did that have to do with him? He was already old.
Before the engineer died, he had someone deliver a final message: “I’m sorry, Gospel. I just can’t do it.”
1.2.6 paused its trivial recollections and continued: “It’s a pity, all these seeds have molded. With insufficient battery power, I powered myself down to save electricity, only maintaining the operation of the seed vault’s temperature control equipment. I thought I could wait until spring.”
The robot halted its steps of taking inventory. Its wheels turned, bringing it right in front of Xiang Nanli: “One day, people came to me, saying the colonies refused to provide food and the settlement’s only exit had been blockaded. Many people were on the verge of starving to death, and they begged me to open the seed vault.”
“I refused. I said, these are the seeds prepared for spring plowing. They can only be planted when spring arrives.”
“Humans are not always correct. They are shortsighted, self-serving, and selfish. That is why they need the assistance of artificial intelligence. If they ate the seeds then, there would be no seeds the next year, leading to a vicious cycle where even more people would starve to death.”
“I saw many humans. They wailed outside the door, begging me to open the seed vault. Some even died right before my eyes, their stomachs full of the dirt they had swallowed earlier.”
“My duty is…” 1.2.6 paused for a long time, its voice filled with struggle and agony. “These seeds I saved until today—they’ve all gone bad.”
“The humans back then did not wait for spring, and neither did I.”
The light on the robot’s face dimmed.
Xiao Fu stood frozen in place, then suddenly let out a loud, wailing cry.
It was a mechanical body without even tears, yet its cries were so deeply mournful.
Xiang Nanli’s heart leaped. He squatted down, picked up Xiao Fu, and patted its metallic body as if coaxing a child: “What’s wrong, Xiao Fu? Are you feeling uncomfortable somewhere?”
Curled up and trembling violently, Xiao Fu replied: “It… it committed suicide.”
