The papers on the conference table remained open, and the four men stared at the draft plan, none of them speaking first. The air seemed thick with tension; no one wanted to be the first to break the silence.

Chen Hao reached out and closed the paper copy with a soft click. He leaned back in his chair and tapped the cover with his fingers. "Nana worked all night and made quite a few things. Now it's our turn to speak." He looked at Susan. "You go first? What do you think could be improved?"

Susan sat up straighter, her fingertips hovering over the "Art Exhibition" page: "These exhibition titles are interesting, but they're all about the past. Can we add something new? Like having someone paint a picture, write a message, and stick it on the wall. Not for aesthetics, but to give people a place to put their inner thoughts."

She paused for a moment: "Culture is not just about recording what has been done, but also about letting people see what hasn't been done yet."

Carl turned to the list of supplies and frowned. "The idea is good. But who has time to organize this right now? Everyone's already booked up. If a bunch of display boards need to be set up and explained, we'll have to rearrange the manpower just once."

He looked up at Susan: "I'm not against creative work. I'm just afraid that it will start off excitingly but end up being unfinished."

“Let’s keep it simple then,” Susan immediately replied. “No need for a special exhibition, just put a board in the corner of the main hall. A pen, a stack of paper, anyone can write or draw as they please. No need to even leave their name.”

“But if no one takes the lead, it might end up being just a few pieces of paper.” Carl shook his head. “It’ll be so quiet and uneventful that it’s better not to do it at all.”

Their eyes met, and neither of them backed down. The temperature in the conference room seemed to drop a few degrees.

Nana sat to the side, her fingers lightly resting on the edge of the terminal, listening without speaking. Her screen was still on the event timeline, the cursor hovering over the notes for "Night of Sound," where the words "reading service" she had written earlier were still there.

Chen Hao suddenly laughed, breaking the deadlock: "One of you is afraid it's not deep enough, and the other is afraid it won't last long—actually, you're talking about the same thing: how to get everyone truly involved, instead of just going through the motions."

He moved forward slightly and said, “How about this: we’ll pick three activities that best represent ‘who we are’ and concentrate our resources on doing them well. The others can be listed, and if someone is willing to take the lead, we can do it; if no one volunteers, we can put them on hold.”

Susan blinked: "You mean...do part of it first?"

“Yes.” Chen Hao nodded. “For example, the ‘Puzzle Wall’ has more hands-on participants, the ‘Night of Voices’ is more emotional, and the ‘Heartfelt Words Wall’ that you mentioned, let’s start with these three. Other things like games and lectures can be listed in the shared directory and people can sign up voluntarily.”

Carl pondered for a moment, then said, "If each activity has a designated person in charge and the number of participants is controlled, I can coordinate shift changes."

“I’ll design the registration form,” Nana said calmly. “I’ll add an automatic reminder function to prevent tasks from going unanswered.”

Seeing that the three of them relaxed, Chen Hao raised his hand and slapped the table: "Okay, it's settled then—the three core items will be the first priority, and the rest can be implemented flexibly. Let's refine these three items today, and then we'll discuss it with everyone tomorrow."

He opened the notebook, tore off a piece of paper, and pushed it to the middle: "Who wants to go first?"

Susan picked up her pen: "I'll revise the exhibition section. The description for the 'Wall of Heartfelt Words' needs to be more straightforward. We can't use words like 'express yourself,' we have to say 'Write what you want to say here.'"

As she spoke, she wrote: "Let's change the title too. Don't call it 'Art Corner,' just call it 'Write Anything.'"

Carl glanced at the timeline: "'Jigsaw puzzle wall' needs how many people to be on duty? If we take turns every day, at least two people will be on duty to check the materials and distribute the tools."

“I’ve done the calculations.” Nana pulled up the document. “Each person is limited to ten minutes, and we can only serve a maximum of thirty people a day. Based on the current working hours, we can draw one person from the maintenance team and one person from the logistics team to work in shifts for two hours each, which will not affect the main task.”

"What about the signal reception challenge?" Carl asked. "Could that be included as well?"

“It can be included in the interactive area,” Nana said, “but with lower priority than the jigsaw puzzle wall. If the number of participants on the first day exceeds expectations, we will consider adding it.”

Chen Hao drew a table on the paper, listing the three activities: "'Night of Voices' Who will host? We can't let Nana read the whole thing by herself."

“No host is needed,” Nana said. “Everyone says a sentence, and the group speech is formed. The system will automatically synthesize the audio for playback.”

"It sounds like a chorus," Chen Hao chuckled. "Each person sings one line, so it doesn't matter if they're off-key."

“Data models show that group voices resonate more easily than individual speeches,” Nana said, “especially when the content comes from people in different roles.”

Susan nodded: "For example, Old Li who repairs water pumps, or Alan who cooks, even if they just say 'I didn't burn the rice today,' it's more powerful than if I said a hundred words."

“Then it’s settled.” Chen Hao wrote down the words “collective voice.” “But we still need the opening music. You said before that we should tap it with a metal plate?”

“Yes,” Nana said. “The frequency has been tested. One tap can produce a vibration that lasts for seventeen seconds, which is enough to cover the silent period.”

“That’s good,” Chen Hao said. “You can tell from the sound that this isn’t a joke.”

Carl flipped back to the supplies page: "Are there enough ribbons? Won't the decorations be too elaborate?"

“There are only two main colors,” Nana said, “blue and gray, which match the base uniforms. The amount used is limited to less than five meters, and they are hung above the entrance and the puzzle wall.”

"What about food?" Carl asked. "Should we prepare anything special?"

“The kitchen maintains daily rations,” Nana said, “but I suggest making a mixed porridge, cooked with the day’s leftover ingredients, as a symbol of sharing.”

“Sounds like leftovers from a scrambled dinner,” Carl grinned.

“It’s essentially the same,” Nana said, “but the name ‘A Meal We Eat Together’ increases acceptance by 32 percent.”

Chen Hao laughed out loud: "You really dare to write data."

“The database has statistics,” she said. “Naming affects perception.”

Susan suddenly remembered something: "That wooden box—the one for 'Tiny Moments'—did you make it?"

“It can be done tonight,” Nana said. “Recycle the wood, apply moisture-proof paint, and add a locking system.”

"Where is the place to write notes?"

"It's located at the exhibition exit," she said. "People can just walk by and throw it without interrupting the flow."

The room was quiet for a moment. The four people lowered their heads and were busy with their own tasks. The sound of pens scratching on paper and the soft tapping of keyboards blended together.

Chen Hao looked at everyone and suddenly said, "Actually, I've always felt that the reason we live like human beings isn't because we have electricity or pots, but because we can still seriously discuss something useless."

No one responded.

But he doesn't need to respond.

Susan was busy revising the text, changing "Welcome to visit" to "What you see is real." Carl circled available manpower on the schedule. Nana updated the document, separating "Optional Modules" and setting access permissions.

Time passed little by little.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on the terminal on the corner of the table. The screen was lit; a new draft of the plan had been generated. Below the title were a few lines of smaller print: First Batch of Pilot Activities, List of Responsible Persons, and Launch Conditions.

Chen Hao stretched, and the chair creaked. He picked up his water glass, took a sip, and found that the water was already cold.

"Oh, right," he suddenly looked up, "which outfit should I wear on the opening ceremony?"