The rain had just stopped, but the base's ventilation system was still humming. Chen Hao tossed his wet hair back, splashing water droplets onto the wall and leaving a small, dark stain.

He plopped down on the sofa in the living area, sinking halfway into it. "I declare that from now on, I'm not human anymore, I'm a battery—and a battery that's almost out of power."

Susan took off her coat and draped it over the back of the chair; her knuckles were still a little stiff. She didn't say anything, just rubbed her wrists.

Carl crouched in the corner, inspecting his equipment bag, unzipping and zipping it up again. Nana stood in the doorway, her terminal screen lit up, a data stream flashing by.

“The surveillance footage shows that in the past three hours, seven groups of people attempted to create interactive installations in the workshop area,” she suddenly said. “The motivation points to the description of the ‘technology experience zone’ in the festival poster.”

Chen Hao looked up: "Who did this?"

“Two interns in the maintenance team made a small, rotating light bulb out of a discarded motor,” Nana said, pulling up the screen. “And the logistics department put together a button box that makes an old-fashioned alarm sound when pressed.”

Susan glanced at the screen, and her lips twitched slightly. "It actually looks pretty convincing."

"Isn't this great?" Chen Hao sat up straight. "Everyone's having fun on their own, shouldn't we strike while the iron is hot?"

"How do we fight?" Carl zipped up his backpack. "Don't tell me we're getting extra work."

“Let’s hold a pre-festival event,” Chen Hao gestured with his hand. “We’ll hold a small exhibition the afternoon before the cultural festival. I’ve already thought of a name for it—'Our First Invention'.”

The air went still for a second.

"What are you planning to exhibit?" Susan asked. "A bunch of rattling sheet metal?"

“Yeah, right.” Chen Hao grinned. “Who says culture has to be highbrow? We’re not holding a press conference; we’re trying to get people to participate, watch, and laugh.”

Nana quickly entered the command, the projector started, and a flowchart appeared on the wall.

"It can be divided into three sections: turning waste into toys, light and shadow games, and a sound lab," she said. "All materials will be made from existing scraps, without the need for additional supplies. The time will be limited to two hours, and volunteers will take turns hosting."

Carl frowned: "Doesn't this conflict with the formal preparations?"

“No,” Nana replied. “The booth will be set up in the east corridor of the main hall, away from the main stage setup area. We can allocate staff who are off duty in the evening, so it won’t affect tomorrow’s schedule.”

Susan stared at the projection for a while, then suddenly stood up: "I'll go get some labels and make a uniform identification that participants can stick on their clothes."

"You're really going to do it?" Chen Hao was stunned.

“We can’t just have a bunch of people draw a circle on their chests as a symbol.” She walked to the door and turned back. “The color should be bright, so people can see it at a glance.”

After she left, Carl stood up as well. "I can spare half a day to help with the setup, but on one condition—no main power line needed, all equipment must have its own batteries or be connected to temporary interfaces."

"Deal." Chen Hao gave a thumbs up.

Nana immediately updated the plan, drawing up a regional allocation map on the terminal. Chen Hao then rummaged through his toolbox, pulling out an old motor, some wires, and a piece of plastic.

"I'll make a sample first," he said.

Ten minutes later, a crooked robot head appeared on the table. A motor drove a wire, causing its "face" to sway from side to side. Its eyes were two red LED lights that blinked.

"What's it called?" Nana asked.

"Let's call it Little Red," Chen Hao patted it. "Even though it's ugly, it's alive."

As soon as he finished speaking, Xiao Hong's light flickered a few times and then suddenly stopped moving.

"Out of power." Chen Hao shrugged. "It's dead."

Nana reached into the battery compartment, removed the battery, and replaced it with a new one. The light came on again, and the head started shaking again.

"Resurrection successful," she said.

Chen Hao laughed: "Look, we can even save the dying. Isn't that the significance of technology?"

As they were talking, footsteps sounded outside the door. Two young workers walked in, carrying a modified metal box that had been used as a speaker.

"I heard they buy exhibits here?" one of them asked. "We made them. Press a button and it plays a recording."

"What did you record?" Chen Hao asked, taking the box.

"It's my mom's singing voice from back then." The person was a little embarrassed. "It's been saved on my phone for a long time, and I can still hear it clearly when I play it now."

Chen Hao pressed the button. A hoarse singing voice came from the speaker, intermittent but with a clear melody.

No one spoke inside.

"Is this okay?" the man asked. "It's too tacky."

"Okay." Chen Hao placed the box on the table. "Put it here, in the center."

More people came in one after another. Some brought small nightlights made of photoresistors that would automatically turn on when the light was dim; others made a hand-cranked generator that could turn a small fan.

Nana opened the registration form and entered the information one by one.

"Currently, there are nineteen people registered to participate in the exhibition," she said. "We expect to have more than sixty attendees."

“More than I expected.” Carl stood against the wall. “Looks like everyone’s been holding back for a while.”

“Normally, when it comes to repairing pipes or replacing parts, nobody has the chance to do these things,” Chen Hao said. “Now that we have a title, we can do it openly and legitimately.”

The loudspeaker suddenly came on; it was the base's routine announcement time.

Chen Hao casually took the microphone jack and connected it directly to the system.

"Attention everyone," he said into the microphone, "at 3 p.m. the day before the cultural festival, in the east corridor of the main hall, there will be a new event—'Our First Invention'."

He paused.

"Whether you know how to make it or have done it before, as long as you bring something that makes a sound, lights up, and moves, it's considered a success. Basic materials will be provided on-site, and you can assemble it on the spot. There will be no competitions or scores; it's just for exhibition."

He smiled.

"Culture is not an exhibit in a glass case, but the little thought in everyone's heart that they want to try. Tomorrow afternoon, let's light it up together."

The broadcast ended, and the room was quiet for a few seconds.

Then, Nana's terminal vibrated.

A message popped up: The workshop has applied to extend its opening hours until 10 p.m.

The second item followed: The logistics team requested five meters of insulating tape, thirty miniature motors, and a batch of scrap circuit boards.

“They’ve started preparing,” Nana said.

"So fast?" Chen Hao looked at the screen.

“The third point,” Nana continued, “is that the maintenance team asked if they could borrow a spare speaker for amplifying the sound in the exhibition area.”

"Approved." Chen Hao waved his hand. "All approved."

Susan returned then, carrying a stack of colorful paper scraps. She sat down at the table and began cutting out round stickers, writing numbers in the center.

"Numbers one through fifty," she said. "We'll make this much for now, and add more if needed."

Carl flipped through tomorrow's schedule, his finger lingering on a few names for a moment, then he picked up a pen, crossed out the two people working the night shift, and changed them to "support the pre-show setup".

“I’ve coordinated it,” he said. “The two-hour shifts won’t affect the main storyline’s progress.”

Nana updates the materials list in real time, and the remaining resource statistics pop up on the screen.

“We currently have plenty of spare parts available,” she said. “We have 62 percent of motors in stock, 45 percent of LED chips in stock, and enough wire length to support 37 separate projects.”

Chen Hao leaned back in his chair, looking at the growing number of gadgets on the table. Xiao Hong was still shaking her head; next to her was a light-up cardboard box and a simple bouncing device made from a bottle cap and a spring.

"Do you think a genius might emerge from among these people?" he asked.

“Probability exists,” Nana said. “According to historical data, 23.7 percent of major technological innovations originated from accidental attempts by individuals without professional backgrounds.”

“That’s possible,” Chen Hao smiled. “Maybe tomorrow afternoon, the next world-changing invention will be born here.”

“It could be the next piece of trash clogging the vent,” Carl said.

“That’s meaningful trash too.” Chen Hao picked up Xiao Hong and held it up in front of him. “Look how hard it tries to live.”

It was dinnertime, and the cafeteria started serving food. But no one touched it.

The workshop lights were always on. Through the glass wall, you could see people welding around tables and others squatting on the floor adjusting circuits.

Nana brought up the live feed and zoomed in on a corner. A child-like figure was tiptoeing, placing a small wooden box into a display case, a nervous yet proud expression on his face.

“That’s Engineer Li’s daughter,” Susan said. “She’s only eight years old.”

"What did she do?" Chen Hao asked.

“A crying baby,” Susan said softly. “If you press its belly, it will make a baby cry and blink its eyes.”

"...That's amazing." Chen Hao couldn't find any other words to say.

Nana added this item to the display catalog, number eighteen.

As night deepened, the setup of the main hall was nearing completion. Three long tables were set up side by side, each adorned with colorful signs made by Susan. Each booth had a numbered plaque that read "Welcome to Touch."

"All that's missing tomorrow is the host," Chen Hao said.

“I’ll do it,” Susan said. “Anyway, the art creation part hasn’t started yet, so I have some free time.”

"You?" Chen Hao exclaimed in surprise, "Don't you think this is too simple?"

"Simplicity is key," she said. "The simpler something is, the easier it is for people to remember."

Carl nodded: "I can hold out for half an hour, as long as you don't let me tell jokes."

"Where's Nana?" Chen Hao asked, looking at her.

“I can handle the opening remarks and technical support,” she said. “In addition, I have submitted a timed reminder to the broadcasting system to announce the event every hour.”

Chen Hao stood in the center of the exhibition hall, looking around.

On the table were those rough but earnest works, their shadows cast by the light shining on them.

“This feeling,” he said softly, “is more reassuring than winning a battle.”

Susan was putting on the last label when her hand suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong?" Chen Hao asked.

“I want to go out for a while,” she said.

"Now?"

"I'll be back before sunrise tomorrow morning." She put the label in her pocket. "I want to go outside and have a look around."

“Outside?” Karl frowned. “The wind erosion zone isn’t completely stable yet.”

“I won’t go far,” she said. “Just that gentle slope to the west of the base. I looked at the star map last night, and the terrain there… is quite interesting.”

No one spoke.

“I was just looking for some inspiration,” she added.

"Are you alone?" Chen Hao asked.

"Um."

"Then you should at least bring a communicator."

She nodded and turned to walk towards the changing area.

Chen Hao watched her retreating figure, then glanced at the small inventions on the table awaiting tomorrow.

Nana is checking the power outlets at the last booth.

"Do you think she can find what she wants?" Chen Hao asked.

“I’m not sure,” Nana said, “but the way humans get inspiration is never within the scope of data prediction.”