The roar of boulders tumbling into the torrent still echoed in his ears. Chen Hao knelt in the mud, his knees sinking into the soft soil, his hands supporting him on a piece of sheet metal that had been swept askew, panting for breath. The rain didn't stop; instead, it intensified, pelting his back like a swarm of tiny insects lining up to gnaw at his flesh.
He looked up and saw Nana standing on a slightly higher place, the robotic arm slowly retracting the detection module.
"The water flow path is stable," she said. "There is currently no risk of backflow in the chicken coop area."
"That's good." He wiped his face, his voice hoarse as if someone had stepped on his neck. "But I don't even have the strength to lift a finger now. Would you say that counts as a work injury?"
She didn't answer, but instead turned the optical lens towards the insulated box he was clutching tightly in his arms. The screen flashed, and an alarm blared abruptly into the rain.
Internal temperature: 6.3°C
[Exceeded safety threshold!]
Chen Hao looked down and saw that a ring of water droplets had formed around the edge of the box lid, and the ice pack was limp and stuck to the inner wall, like a melting snowman.
"How long has it been?" he muttered. "I haven't even started yet, and you've already betrayed me?"
"The cooling system has suffered from poor circuit contact due to severe vibration." Nana pulled up the data. "The current environment is hot and humid. If no intervention is taken, the temperature will rise above 15°C in two hours."
“With a 48-hour shelf life, we only have a little over 46 hours left.” He slowly got up, his legs shaking like clotheslines in the wind. “Fine, what can I do? I’m the only living incubator that can walk.”
He unbuttoned his soaked coat and wrapped it around the outside of the insulated box. Then he took out the last three half-melted ice packs from his backpack and stuffed them into the inner compartment.
“This operation does not follow standard procedures,” Nana said.
“I know,” he grinned, “but standard procedures don’t teach you how to carry life-saving medicine through a swamp in a downpour. What I’m doing now is ‘unconventional logistics,’ you know? The ultimate challenge in the express delivery industry.”
The SUV was parked on a slope a hundred meters away, with half of its tires stuck in the mud. He staggered over and almost fell headfirst into the driver's seat when he opened the car door.
Nana got into the passenger seat, and the robotic arm automatically connected to the vehicle's system. A few seconds later, the navigation screen appeared, showing a red line that bypassed a large area of water and extended along the high ground formed by the meteorite ore deposits.
“This path…” Chen Hao stared at the screen, “looks even more strained than my life plan.”
“The actual success rate was 72.4%,” she said. “Lower than ideal, but higher than other options.”
"Let's go then." He started the engine. "Anyway, it's not the first time I've risked my life on the odds."
The car wobbled and swayed as it drove up the slope, its chassis scraping against the gravel with a screeching sound. With each bump, the insulated box slammed against his legs, as if reminding him that he was still alive.
Just after rounding a bend, the road suddenly collapsed, and the right front wheel sank into a murky, shallow area of water. The drive wheels spun freely, mud splashed everywhere, and the car tilted slowly to the right.
"Damn it!" Chen Hao slammed on the brakes, and the insulated box slid off his lap and crashed into the car door.
Nana reacted even faster; her robotic arm extended instantly, caught the edge of the box, and forcefully pulled it back.
"The temperature has risen to 7.1°C," she said calmly. "It needs to be cooled down immediately."
"I know, I know!" He unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed open the door, got out of the car, and stepped into the ankle-deep mud.
A shovel was inserted under the wheel, and a few stones were placed underneath. Nana activated the auxiliary lifting program, the robotic arm pressed against the lower edge of the vehicle, and the hydraulic system hummed.
"Give it more power!" he yelled in the rain. "Can you stop keeping the power output stuck at the 'good enough but not enough' setting?"
“Output has reached its limit,” she responded. “I suggest reducing complaints to conserve energy.”
Are you mocking me?
"I'm just stating the facts."
“Every time you say that, I feel like you’re secretly holding a grudge.”
The wheels finally gripped the ground and slowly crawled out of the mud pit. Chen Hao, soaking wet, sat back in the driver's seat and noticed that the insulated box alarm had gone off again.
“The impact caused the remaining ice to be distributed unevenly,” Nana said after the scan. “The core area has begun to warm up.”
He was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly pulled open his clothes, gathered the ice around the serum bottle into one place, and then lifted the hem of his t-shirt to press the insulated box tightly against his abdomen.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
“Artificial heat conduction.” He grinned. “My belly is thick with fat, so it dissipates heat slowly, making it a perfect temporary refrigerator. Although it’s not very hygienic, it’s better than the virus reviving.”
"Body surface temperature is still higher than the set range."
"Do you have any other ideas? How about you dismantle yourself and give me some coolant to soak in?"
She didn't say anything more, but silently adjusted the direction of the ventilation inside the car, so that the cold air was concentrated above the insulated box.
The latter half of the journey was exceptionally quiet, with only the sound of raindrops hitting the roof and the occasional temperature warning beep. Chen Hao leaned back in his seat, one hand on the suitcase, the other gripping the steering wheel, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“Twelve kilometers to go,” Nana said. “Estimated arrival time: fifty-three minutes.”
“There’s still time.” He yawned. “As long as nothing like a ‘sudden geological change’ or ‘ancient creatures awakening’ happens, I’ll be thankful.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a grove of fallen trees appeared in front of the navigation marker, their thick trunks blocking the entrance haphazardly.
“The chicken coop passageway is completely blocked,” she analyzed. “It would take at least forty-seven minutes to clean it manually.”
"Forty-seven minutes?" He stared wide-eyed. "By the time I finish moving all this wood, Serum will have grown legs and run into the chicken coop by itself."
"Alternative solution: Use the cutting module on the drone wreckage."
"Wasn't that thing already scrapped?"
“The main control system is still in standby mode.” She connected to the wireless signal. “Remote activation will take thirty seconds.”
"Then hurry up!"
Thirty seconds felt like half a century. Finally, after a soft "beep," a small flamethrower popped out of the wreckage and aimed at the base of the main branch.
The flames struggled to ignite in the rain, hissing and crackling, thick smoke mingling with the smell of burning filling the air. The branches gradually turned black and broke, and with a final muffled thud, a gap wide enough for one person to pass through was cleared.
Chen Hao picked up the incubator and rushed inside. Rainwater streamed down his hair and into his neck, and his shoes were soaked, making a squelching sound with every step.
The chicken coop door was ajar; he kicked it open, rushed inside, and headed straight for the control panel. The temperature control chamber was activated, the injection program was loaded, the serum vial was placed into the interface, and the confirmation button was pressed.
The progress bar on the screen slowly advances.
[Virus removal program started]
Estimated completion time: 8 minutes
He slumped down in the corner, leaning against the metal frame, still clutching an empty bottle in his hand, looking as if all his bones had been removed.
"It's done?" he murmured. "It's really... done?"
Nana stood beside the control panel, the optical lens scanning the monitoring data.
“The viral load continues to decline,” she said. “It will enter the irreversible clearance phase in three minutes.”
Chen Hao leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and slowly curled up the corners of his mouth.
The rain outside gradually subsided, and only the soft hum of machinery could be heard inside. A chicken flapped its wings and poked its head out of its cage, tilting its head to look at him.
He opened his eyes, smiled at it, and said, "Dude, you're now a non-toxic person. Congratulations."
A new notification suddenly popped up on the screen:
Clearance rate: 100%
[Result confirmed: Success]
He wanted to stand up to celebrate, but found that his legs wouldn't obey him.
"Nana..." he called out.
"exist."
"Please write this down for me."
"Today, humans and robots have overcome the weather, bad roads, broken cars, and medicine that is about to expire."
"This kind of thing is worth posting on social media."
She didn't respond, but simply rested the robotic arm gently on the edge of the control panel, pointed the camera at the flock of chickens, and continued to monitor them.
Chen Hao leaned against the wall, holding an empty bottle in his hand, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
A chicken jumped off its perch, strolled to his feet, and pecked at his shoelaces.
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