Chen Hao had just torn half of the foil off the energy bar when the little head shrunk back into the crevice, as fast as a grain of sand blown away by the wind. He paused for two seconds, his hand still raised in mid-air, before finally stuffing the whole thing into his mouth and chewing loudly.

"Looks like there's no wholesale today, only retail," he mumbled, crumbs sticking to the corner of his mouth. "I was thinking of getting a membership points program."

Nana stood to the side, the blue light sweeping across the red grass along the edge of the lake. "The behavior pattern is stabilizing, and the probability of repeated contact has increased to 86%."

"So you're saying I'm about to become a vending machine on the street?" He patted his pants, stood up, and slung his backpack strap over his shoulder. "Fine, I'm too lazy to haggle anyway."

He took a step forward, the propulsion suit making a slight hydraulic sound. After taking only three steps, a short, deep "beep" sounded from his left shoulder, like someone coughing in their throat.

Chen Hao paused in his steps.

He looked down at the instrument panel on his wrist of the propulsion suit—the green background had turned dark red, the numbers had dropped from full to 5%, and a line of small text popped up next to it: **Energy critically low, please return to the supply point as soon as possible**.

"Huh?" He blinked, thinking he was seeing things. "How long has it been? I haven't even gone halfway!"

He pressed the screen refresh button again, but the values ​​didn't change at all.

"No, is the system acting up?" He turned to Nana. "Did it leak electricity when we connected the filter yesterday? Or did it secretly play games while we were sleeping last night?"

Nana took a step closer, and the robotic arm unfolded a miniature projection, revealing a pale blue circuit diagram floating in the air. "The system log shows that the cumulative energy consumption over the past twelve hours exceeded the baseline value by 37%. The main causes include: the water purification module restarting twice, manually disassembling the armor causing the seal detection cycle to repeat six times, and your continuous rubbing against the rock for thirty-seven minutes causing frequent activation of posture calibration."

Chen Hao opened his mouth: "...Can I consume electricity even if I'm leaning against the wall?"

“The propulsion suit has an environmental balance adjustment function.” She said calmly, “Every slight adjustment of the center of gravity will trigger gyroscope compensation.”

"So I was drained dry by my own laziness?" He stared down at the 5% figure, feeling as if a huge sum of money had been secretly emptied from his wallet. "So, not moving actually consumes more electricity?"

“A stationary state does reduce power consumption,” Nana added. “But you’re now on the return journey and can’t stay still for more than 30 minutes, otherwise condensation will seep into the joint bearing overnight.”

"Doesn't that mean I have to leave?" He crouched down and reached for the power reset button on the side of his propulsion suit. "How about we turn it off first to save some energy? Then turn it back on when we're almost at the escape pod and glide over?"

“It’s not feasible.” A blue light flashed in Nana’s eyes. “Restarting would consume 8.2% of the initial energy, which is higher than the current remaining threshold. If the power is forcibly cut off, the system will not be able to wake up on its own.”

Chen Hao's hand froze in mid-air.

"So you mean I can't even afford to die now?" He slowly withdrew his hand, his voice a little weak. "This thing is even more difficult to deal with than my ex—I can't get rid of it, and it keeps burning through my money."

Nana didn't reply, but instead raised her arm and pointed to a stretch of undulating sand dunes ahead. A dotted path reappeared in the air, winding through several low-lying rocky areas.

“The optimal route has been planned,” she said. “The entire route is 2.7 kilometers long and is expected to consume 3.1% of the energy. Current reserves are sufficient to support our journey to the escape capsule.”

"But I only have 5% left!" he pointed at the screen. "What if I encounter a small hill on the road and step on the gas a couple of times, and the screen goes black?"

“The system has an energy-saving load balancing protocol,” she continued. “Non-critical modules will be gradually shut down, and power output will be adjusted to the minimum maintenance level. You can still walk.”

"So, I have to shuffle back like an old man?" he sighed. "I won't even be able to escape properly."

“It’s about making efficient use of surplus resources,” Nana corrected.

Chen Hao stood up, brushed the dust off his knees, and looked at the blurry outline of the escape pod in the distance with a complicated expression. "You said humans could create time-traveling robots, but in the end, they still have to walk on two legs."

"Technology can't solve all problems," she said.

"That sounds so familiar..." he muttered as he started walking. "Have you high-tech creatures held a private meeting to agree on a set of sarcastic remarks?"

The propulsion suits emitted a soft hum, and the leg assist slowly activated. The two moved along the projected path; the ground was dry and soft, and each step kicked up a small cloud of dust.

Upon reaching the top of the first sand dune, Chen Hao's right leg suddenly gave a "thud," and the power output noticeably decreased. He stumbled and nearly knelt on the ground.

"Oh no!!" He stopped abruptly. "It's going to stall!"

“No malfunction.” Nana immediately stepped forward, and the scanner lit up. “The system is performing energy-saving allocation. The power of the right leg module has been reduced to 40% to balance the overall energy consumption.”

"You should have said so earlier!" he gasped, clutching his knees. "You scared me half to death. I thought my lower body was going to be ruined."

“Your heart rate is currently 118,” she cautioned. “Excessive stress increases oxygen consumption, indirectly increasing the energy burden.”

"I'm a person, not a battery!" He glared at her. "I can control my heartbeat, but I can't control being scared to death!"

Nana was silent for two seconds, and the blue light flickered slightly. "I suggest taking three deep breaths, each lasting four seconds. This can reduce the excitation level of the sympathetic nervous system."

Chen Hao rolled his eyes, but still did as he was told.

Inhale—exhale—

"Do you think your robots ever get scared?" he asked, panting. "Like when the battery is down to 1%."

“I don’t have an emotion module,” she said, “but I do have priority-based logic. When energy levels fall below a safe threshold, the system automatically marks it as ‘high-risk task terminated.’”

"Then you should calm down." He smiled bitterly. "If I only had 1% left, I'd probably be writing my will by now—'To the aliens who find my corpse in the future: Please bury me, don't eat me, I don't taste good.'"

"Based on your body fat data," Nana said calmly, "you do not have the nutritional value for high-protein foods."

"Hey!" he protested, "Don't tell the truth now!"

They continued forward. The sun began to set, casting ever longer shadows. The energy bar on his propulsion suit slowly decreased, from 5% to 4.6%, then to 4.1%, each minute change prompting Chen Hao to glance down at it.

"Do you think it might suddenly jump back to 80%?" he asked, clinging to a sliver of hope. "Like, detecting an error and then 'snap' back to normal?"

“There is no such mechanism,” Nana replied.

"Couldn't you have included a surprise? Like giving away a charging coupon after walking 10,000 steps?"

"This is not a fitness tracker."

“I think you should attend the product design conference.” He sighed. “Here’s a suggestion: next time you make a propulsion suit, add a ‘survival mode’ so that pressing it automatically calls for rescue and plays a sad background music so that your teammates will feel sorry for you.”

“Your sense of humor is fading along with the battery,” Nana said.

"Of course." He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Even smiling uses up battery power. I have to be careful with my facial expressions now."

As they crossed a dry riverbed, the propulsion suit emitted a short, sharp vibration, as if internal parts had gently bumped together. Chen Hao froze instantly.

"What is it now?!"

“This is just a terrain adaptation adjustment,” Nana confirmed after scanning. “The bottom filter vibrated slightly due to passing through a gravel area.”

“My heart doesn’t know this is a small matter.” He clutched his chest. “If this continues, I won’t even have to wait until the power goes out before I have a heart attack.”

“Your heart rate is currently stable,” she said, “but your blood pressure is high, so I recommend reducing sudden verbal stimulation.”

"You're blaming me for talking too much?" He glared at him. "I'm practically a moving fossil, every step I take shakes the ground. You don't even comfort me, and you're telling me to shut up?"

“I don’t have a comfort function,” she replied calmly, “but I can provide a real-time energy consumption prediction: at the current speed, the remaining energy upon arrival at the escape pod will be 1.4%, which is enough to complete the docking and recharging.”

“1.4%…” he murmured, “Even airplane mode on a phone can’t last that long.”

“You don’t need to fly,” she said. “You just need to walk.”

Chen Hao gazed at the increasingly clear outline of the escape pod ahead, its silvery-white surface shimmering in the setting sun. It was about eight hundred meters away—not far, not close.

He took a deep breath and started walking again.

The hum of the propulsion suit grew even deeper, like an old air conditioner struggling to run. Leg assistance weakened further, and each step felt like treading on sticky mud.

"I'm in a similar state to myself before I clocked in on Monday morning—alive, but not wanting to live anymore."

Nana followed behind him, always keeping a half-step distance. The blue light in her eyes dimmed slightly as the ambient light darkened, but she still steadily scanned the system status.

"Body temperature is normal, heart rate is controllable, and the power module is operating in the energy-saving range," she reported. "All indicators meet expectations."

"You make it sound so easy," he said, panting. "Do you know what I want most right now?"

"I speculate that it's a glass of ice water, a sofa, and a lifestyle that doesn't require moving."

“Wrong.” He grinned. “Right now I want to hear a ‘ding’—the kind that says ‘charging successful’.”

"The notification tone will sound in seven minutes."

"Seven minutes..." He glanced down at the screen, the red border already flashing at the edge. "Is that enough time for me to tell three jokes?"

“Based on your average speaking speed,” Nana said, “two and a half.”

Chen Hao grinned, about to speak, when his right leg suddenly twitched again, this time more noticeably, as if someone had kicked his knee.

He staggered, then braced himself with his left hand against a nearby rock to avoid falling.

"Again?!"