The screen went black.

Chen Hao's hand was still suspended in mid-air, his fingertips just a centimeter away from the cooked wild fruit. He didn't move or speak, just stared at the spot where the data stream had been lit—now there was nothing there, like a refrigerator that had been unplugged.

"Where's the light?" he asked softly.

The moment the words were spoken, the overhead light flickered, as if it had sneezed, and then went out again.

In the darkness, only two points of blue light floated quietly in front of her; they were Nana's eyes.

“Main power is interrupted,” she said. “The backup battery is not activated.”

"So now we don't even have a flashlight?" Chen Hao took a half step back, the back of his head lightly bumping against the cabin wall. "I just finished a hot meal, and you pull this on me?"

“You didn’t eat a hot meal.” Nana walked steadily toward the control panel. “It was plant fruit that had been heated and did not meet the standard dietary calorie requirements.”

"Do you have to correct me at a time like this?" He raised his hand and rubbed his face. "All I want to know right now is whether we'll even live to brush our teeth tomorrow morning?"

"The system is scanning for the fault." She ignored his question, her finger swiping across the now-black screen as if it could still display something. "A high-voltage pulse has been detected on the external line, and the preliminary assessment is that it was caused by a lightning strike that triggered a short circuit."

"Is it raining outside?"

"Rain started ten minutes ago, and the current rainfall is moderate with a wind speed of six meters per second."

Chen Hao sighed and looked down to touch his right leg in the suit. It was still throbbing slightly; he'd made a "click" sound when he walked earlier, like a screw dancing inside. He squatted down, leaning against the wall, wondering if he could fix it himself, but as soon as he bent over, a stinging itch shot through his back, like someone poking his spine with a static pen.

"Don't touch the back connector," Nana said without turning her head. "The insulation is aging, and moisture intrusion may cause partial discharge."

"I just wanted to do a simple horse stance, and this crappy equipment is giving me warnings?" He stood up, supporting himself on his knees. "So what do I do now? Reboot? Tap the case a couple of times? Or do I have to chant some incantation?"

“The C-7 module needs to be manually reconnected.” She turned around, the blue light sweeping across the layer of oily sweat on his face. “The location is inside the waterproof groove on the outside of the hull.”

"Outside?" Chen Hao looked up towards the hatch. "Now?"

"The sooner the better," she said. "Otherwise, the grounding system will continue to fail, and the next lightning strike could directly burn out the core circuitry."

He paused for a few seconds, then grinned: "You know what I'm most afraid of? It's not birds of prey, it's not poisonous fruit, it's fixing appliances on rainy days. That thing will turn me into a kebab sooner or later."

"As long as you don't touch the high-voltage area with wet hands, the probability of death will not exceed five percent."

"You really know how to comfort people."

He dragged his right leg to the locker and opened his repair kit. Tools were scattered all over the floor. He squatted down to rummage through them, but his knee buckled, and he almost fell into the mud. Luckily, Nana reacted quickly and grabbed his arm with the force of lifting a delivery box.

"Insulating gloves." She handed over a pair of grayish-white gloves. "You must wear them."

"I know, I know, otherwise I'd be the conductor." He took the gloves and put them on, only to find a crack on one of his left fingers. "These things are expired too, aren't they?"

“Availability assessment: 82%,” she said. “Sufficient to complete low-pressure operations within three minutes.”

"Three minutes? You want me to race against lightning?"

He grumbled as he stepped out of the cabin and waded into the puddles. Rainwater immediately soaked into his boots, making him shiver. The sky was heavily overcast, the clouds hanging low, with a faint ray of light occasionally crawling through them, like a snake writhing in the sky.

Nana walked ahead, a small protective panel unfolding from the robotic arm above her head. She moved swiftly, opening the waterproof tank cover in a few quick movements. Inside, the wires were a tangled mess, and the terminal marked C-7 in the middle was indeed charred black, as if someone had kissed it with a spray gun.

"It's burned." Chen Hao squatted down and used a wrench to tighten the screws. "What do we do now? Replace it with a new one?"

“The replacement part is in the third compartment of the tool kit,” she said. “Magnetic, non-slip.”

He searched for ages before finally finding it. When he took it out and looked at it, his head buzzed: "This thing is barely bigger than a sesame seed. You want me to carry it in the rain?"

“The precision requirements are not high,” she said. “As long as the contact surfaces fit together perfectly, it’s fine.”

He gritted his teeth and started assembling, but the gloves were too slippery, and the screws came loose halfway through. He tried three times, but each time the rain washed them off course. Finally, he simply took off his gloves and used his fingers directly.

"Warning," Nana immediately warned, "Operating with bare hands violates safety protocols."

"Will the agreement help me tighten this damn screw?" he spat. "If it's not sorted out soon, we'll have to spend the night here, listening to thunder and eating air."

With a click, the new terminal clicked into place. He breathed a sigh of relief and was about to call it a day when he noticed the indicator light was still off.

"Want to try turning on the power?" He looked up at Nana.

She nodded and remotely triggered the self-test program.

The light on the main control panel flickered, stayed on for half a second, and then went out.

Immediately afterwards, the entire cabin shook slightly, as if it had been kicked from below.

“Poor grounding.” Nana frowned—if robots could be considered to be frowning. “Insufficient grounding depth, excessive resistance.”

"So we still have to dig?" Chen Hao looked at his shoes soaking in water. "I'm wearing a propulsion suit, not rain boots."

“No digging is needed,” she said. “Just reinsert the metal stakes into the mud at least fifty centimeters.”

He snorted, walked over, and pulled out the stake. It was covered in mud and as heavy as an iron rod. He gritted his teeth, planted it in a patch of soft soil nearby, and pressed down hard. Once, twice, until half of it was sunk in.

"Is it deep enough?" he asked, panting heavily.

“It meets the standards in theory,” she said. “Try turning on the power again.”

This time, the lights held steady.

The main control panel screen slowly lit up, the power bar jumped a few times, and finally stopped at 10%. The cabin was dimly lit again, and the data stream started scrolling again, albeit at a pace as slow as an elderly person taking a walk.

"It's alive." Chen Hao plopped down in the mud, too lazy to get up. "Our equipment is tougher than a cockroach."

"The system is back online." Nana put away the protective shield. "However, the probability of thunderstorms in the area has risen to 87%. We recommend that you move to a sheltered place immediately."

"Where is there any shelter?" He wiped the rain from his face, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. "This godforsaken place is nothing but rocks and mud."

“There’s a rock structure 300 meters to the northwest.” She raised her arm and pointed into the distance. “Contour analysis suggests it might be a natural cave.”

Chen Hao looked in the direction she pointed. The rain was too thick to see clearly, but he could vaguely make out a few protruding rocky hills, which looked like crouching giant beasts under the gray sky.

Just as he was about to speak, a bolt of lightning struck down, hitting a high slope not far away.

In the instant the blinding light exploded, he saw clearly—

At the bottom of that rocky hill, there was indeed a dark gap, as if something had gnawed at it.

“It really is a hole,” he murmured.

"It has rain protection." Nana had already started walking forward. "It is recommended to keep the movement speed below 1.2 meters per second to avoid overexertion."

"You've planned quite meticulously." He struggled to his feet, and the power assist system in his right leg clicked again, this time louder.

He ignored it and dragged his feet to catch up.

Rainwater streamed down his neck and into his clothes, making him shiver. His tool bag hung heavily on his left shoulder, the magnetic wrench inside constantly bumping against his ribs with each step.

He had walked less than fifty meters when he suddenly stopped.

"Nana".

"Um?"

"You know... if we really die here, what if someone finds us? Like, hundreds of years later, a group of archaeologists dig up this cabin, point to our bones and say, 'Look, this is a record of the Last Supper of ancient humans'?"

“The probability is less than three in a thousand,” she said. “There are no traces of civilization here, and the probability of future exploration is extremely low.”

"So that means if we die, no one will know?"

"Unless someone actively searches for it."

He chuckled twice, his voice trembling slightly amidst the sound of rain.

"That's pretty tragic. I've never been famous in my life, and even when I died, there wasn't a trending topic."

Nana didn't reply, but just kept walking forward, the blue light in her eyes piercing through the rain like two small lamps that would never go out.

Chen Hao looked down at his hands; his fingernails were full of dirt, and his palms were blistered. He remembered eating fruit just half an hour ago, and felt that was the pinnacle of his life.

Looking back now, I was so naive.

They walked a little further, and the ground became increasingly sloping, with loose stones appearing under their feet. The sensors on their propulsion suits indicated that the slope had reached fifteen degrees and suggested adjusting their center of gravity.

"How much further?" he asked.

"One hundred and eighty meters remaining."

"You mean this cave... could it already be inhabited by something else? Like one of those giant spiders that spray acid?"

No large biological activity signals were detected.

"What if the power goes out, like we just did?"

"Then remember to bring a flashlight when you go in."

"I didn't bring it."

"You can use a heating module for lighting."

"Then won't I go hungry again?"

They chatted intermittently, their steps never faltering. The rain didn't lessen; instead, it intensified, pounding loudly on the ground.

Finally, they approached the rocky hill.

The opening was larger than it appeared from a distance, with jagged edges, like a wound violently torn open. It was pitch black inside, its depth impossible to discern.

Chen Hao stood outside the cave, panting, his right leg almost giving way.

"Do you really want to go in?" he asked.

Nana nodded, and the blue light swept across the rock surface at the cave entrance.

Just then, a soft sound came from the back of the propulsion suit.

It looks like something is broken.