The heating module on the left arm of the propulsion suit emitted a low hum, its interface glowing slightly red, like a piece of iron just pulled from a fire. Chen Hao stared at that dim light, his fingers still on the control panel, his arm trembling slightly—not from fear, but from exhaustion.
That run just now almost made my lungs pop out.
“The heat source is stable.” Nana stood beside her, her eyes gleaming blue. “We can start heating the container.”
Chen Hao rummaged through his toolbox and pulled out a flat metal box, originally intended for screwdriver bits, which had now become his "pot." He stuffed a few red wild berries inside and carefully secured it to the heating vent of his propulsion suit. The berries' hard skins slowly seeped out a little moisture under the high temperature, like sweat.
"Temperature 85 degrees, for six minutes," Nana announced. "More than 90 minutes will destroy the nutrients, and less than five minutes will result in incomplete toxin degradation."
"You're making this sound like a recipe," Chen Hao grinned. "Could you add a 'simmer' option next time?"
“This isn’t kitchen equipment.” She paused. “Although you are indeed cooking right now.”
The first fruit had been cooking for seven minutes. Chen Hao was sweating profusely, not from the heat, but from hunger. He reached out to scoop it out, but the alarm went off the moment his fingers touched the box.
"High Temperature Warning." The system notification sounded cold and impersonal. "Contact surface temperature exceeds the limit. Do not operate with bare hands."
"Oh, my life is so miserable." He withdrew his hand and shook it. "Who designed this lousy system that doesn't let people eat earlier?"
“Safety protocols take precedence over the need to eat.” Nana pulled out an insulating cloth pad—a tattered bag she had previously used to wrap the thrusters, which she was now reusing. “Let it cool down naturally in five minutes.”
"I might starve to death in five minutes." Chen Hao stared at the darker-colored fruit in the box, swallowed hard, and said, "I don't care if it's poisonous or not right now. I'll collapse if I don't eat it soon."
"The current mortality rate is 0.3%," Nana said. "If one forces the consumption of hot fruit, the probability of digestive tract damage rises to 17%, which in turn increases the risk of infection, raising the overall mortality rate to 6.8%."
"You're really good at calculating." He rolled his eyes. "Can't you say something more encouraging? Like, 'Brother, can you handle this?'"
“I have no brothers,” she said, then added, “and no motivational program.”
The fruit finally cooled. Nana picked one up with her mechanical fingers, broke it in half, and found the flesh inside to be pale yellow, with a wisp of steam rising from it. She took out a miniature probe, inserted it into the core, and scanned it several times with blue light.
"Toxin residue is 0.27%, which is below the safety threshold." She nodded. "It's safe to try."
Chen Hao rubbed his hands together: "It's finally my turn."
He took the other half and took a small bite.
The sweet and sour flavor exploded in his mouth, like a mixture of hawthorn and ripe grapes, with a lingering honey sweetness. His eyes widened, his cheeks puffed out, and he chewed with extra force.
"Holy crap... this stuff is a hundred times better than compressed biscuits!" He took another big bite. "If only I'd known, I wouldn't have to eat that pile of chalk dust every day!"
“Compressed foods contain balanced nutrients,” Nana cautioned. “This fruit only provides carbohydrates and trace amounts of vitamin C.”
"Then tell me, do people live for nutrition or for the pleasure of eating?" he retorted vaguely. "I'm very happy right now, living happily, don't you understand?"
He ate half of it in one go, then stuffed the other half into his pocket, saying he'd keep it as a snack. His hands were sticky with juice, so he wiped it on his pants, leaving a dark red stain.
"I suggest cleaning it," Nana said, handing over a wet wipe. "Residual sugar might attract insects."
“There isn’t even a mosquito here, where would any insects come from?” Chen Hao waved his hand. “Look outside, not a breath of wind blows, it’s as quiet as a funeral home rest area.”
“A quiet environment does not mean there is no life activity.” She put away the probe. “According to sound wave monitoring, small reptiles move around the cabin at night.”
"That's a rat, isn't it?" He yawned. "Feel free to eat my dander, I'll give you plenty."
For the next half hour, they repeated the process: heating, cooling, testing, and recording. Two per batch, no more, no less. Chen Hao was responsible for keeping an eye on the time, occasionally sneaking a bite; the more he ate, the more he enjoyed it, even starting to comment on the differences in taste.
"This batch is a bit sour, like it's been sitting out for too long." He chewed on the third batch of produce. "The last batch was sweet, this batch is astringent, is it because the trees were planted in different locations?"
“Differences in fruit ripeness.” Nana pulled up a data chart. “The south side receives more sunlight, resulting in higher sugar accumulation.”
"Then next time you can order me to go south to pick them." He licked his fingers. "Don't make me go through all that trouble climbing over a bunch of rotten rocks only to end up with a sour fruit."
“The energy collection plan will not be launched for the time being,” she said. “There is 12.4% energy remaining, and 3.1% has been consumed in the heating process.”
Chen Hao was taken aback: "So fast?"
“The power supply is not designed for continuous heating,” she said, pointing to the control panel. “It is recommended to use an external heat source in the future.”
"Solar energy?" He stroked his chin. "You want me to use a magnifying glass to roast fruit?"
“A reflector can be used to focus sunlight.” She pulled up a diagram. “A simple device can achieve preheating.”
"It sounds like a survival livestream." He shook his head. "If I were to make a video, the title would have to be 'How a Fat Guy Cooks Rice with Scrap Metal.'"
“Audiences may be more concerned with survival efficiency,” she said.
“Nobody likes to see efficiency.” He leaned against the bulkhead and patted his stomach. “Everyone loves to see unlucky guys like me mess things up. Like when I almost got caught by an alien eagle and made into midnight snack.”
As he spoke, he looked down at his right leg in the propellant suit, where there was a slight deformity from when he hit a rock. He walked with a slight limp, but it didn't prevent him from sitting and eating.
The cabin fell silent. The wind outside was light, occasionally making a rattling sound on the metal hull, like someone gently knocking on the door. Chen Hao squinted, holding the last cooked fruit in his hand, not in a hurry to eat it.
"You mean... we can eat this every day from now on?" he suddenly asked.
“If energy is allocated properly, twelve can be processed per day,” Nana replied, “enough to make up for part of the heat deficit.”
“Twelve…” he counted on his fingers, “Three for breakfast, three for lunch, four for dinner, and the remaining two for afternoon tea.”
“I don’t recommend consuming it all at once,” she interrupted. “Fructose takes time to metabolize.”
"Can't you let me daydream for a bit?" he sighed. "It's been so long since I've thought about what to eat tomorrow. Before, it was always 'Can I survive until tomorrow?'"
“You are also likely to live to see tomorrow,” she said. “The probability is 4.3% higher than yesterday.”
"Thank you for giving me the confidence to be accurate to the decimal point." He smiled and took a bite of the fruit, a little juice dripping down the corner of his mouth, which he didn't bother to wipe away.
Suddenly, the propulsion suit emitted a short beeping sound.
Chen Hao looked down and saw that the energy bar had jumped from 12.4% to 11.9%.
"What's going on?" He patted his arm. "Another electrical leak?"
"The heating module is not completely shut off." Nana reached out and adjusted the interface. "Power has been cut off."
As soon as she finished speaking, the lights on the control panel flickered for a moment.
It's so short, you can hardly tell.
But both of them looked over.
The lights returned to normal, and the data stream on the screen continued to scroll, as if nothing had happened.
“Voltage fluctuation.” Nana approached the main control panel and swiped her finger across the interface. “Amplitude 0.7 volts, below the warning line.”
"So, the strike isn't completely over yet?" Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought it was going to be pitch black again."
“System stability is declining.” She pulled up the energy log. “The backup battery charging efficiency has decreased by 18%, the cause is under investigation.”
"Another new problem?" He rubbed his temples. "Can't I just have a peaceful hot meal?"
“You didn’t eat a hot meal,” she corrected. “It was cooked wild fruit, and it wasn’t paired with any staple food or protein source.”
“I’ve had a spiritual feast,” he muttered. “You wouldn’t understand.”
He stood up, intending to find some other tools in the cabinet to see if he could fix the circuit. He had only taken two steps when the right leg of his propulsion suit clicked, and the power assist system flashed a yellow light.
"Right leg power unit load abnormal." The system prompted.
"Not again?" He leaned against the wall. "Is your equipment reaching the end of its service life and collectively going on strike?"
"Service life is within limits." Nana came over and scanned the joints. "Insufficient joint lubrication; we recommend adding maintenance fluid."
"Where is the liquid?"
"Third compartment of the repair kit."
Chen Hao bent down to rummage through the air, but when he exerted force, a stinging sensation ran down the back of his suit, like a short circuit causing a spark. He abruptly straightened up, his hand hitting the lamp holder above his head.
The light flickered again.
This time it took longer than before.
Two full seconds.
In the darkness, only the blue light in Nana's eyes remained lit.
She looked up at the ceiling and said calmly, "The peak power load occurred within three minutes of the heating operation, and it repeated three times."
Chen Hao didn't speak, staring at the lamp as it lit up again.
He opened his mouth, about to say something—
The main control panel screen suddenly went black.
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