Chen Hao carried the last log into the shed, his arm went weak, and he almost tripped and fell. He sat down against the coal sack, panting as if he had run ten kilometers. The wind outside had died down, and the snow had stopped; only the sled wheels made a slight creaking sound on the cold ground.
“1,100 kilograms,” Nana reported from the side. “Eighty percent of the fuel has been stored.”
"I'll deal with the rest tomorrow." He waved his hand. "I don't even want to move a finger right now."
Nana didn't speak. The optical lens swept across the mountains of timber and coal sacks, then turned towards the distant forest. She brought up the projector, which displayed a map of the collection route over the past month, with several resource points marked in red.
“The regeneration cycle of fallen trees in the forest is three years,” she said. “We went there seven times in the past two weeks.”
Chen Hao looked up. "What do you mean?"
“It means,” she pointed to one of the spots, “that there are no more dead trees at this point. Next time we’ll have to go further and use more fuel.”
He paused for a moment, "Then...why not just look somewhere else?"
“Okay.” Nana nodded. “But the next usable area is 4 kilometers away, and transportation energy consumption will increase by 35 percent. Moreover, there are only 30% of the shallow lignite reserves left in the mining area. If we continue to mine like this, we will have to go deep into the fault zone in three months.”
Chen Hao sat up straighter. "Fault zone? Doesn't that pose a risk of landslides?"
"yes."
He was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed, "Do you think we're putting out a fire while simultaneously throwing gasoline into it?"
“The analogy makes sense,” Nana said.
He leaned back against the pile of fuel, looking at it for the first time and realizing it didn't resemble spoils of war, but rather a debt he owed. He scratched his head. "I thought that carrying more would make things safer. But now it seems the more I carry, the harder it gets later."
“There is a contradiction between short-term reserves and long-term sustainability.” Nana pulled up a set of data, “If the current model is maintained, all easily accessible resources will be depleted within two years, and the base will enter a high-risk collection phase.”
The scene switches to a simulated scenario: a person is dragging a sled across a wasteland, with nothing in the distance and only frozen ground and gravel underfoot.
Chen Hao stared at it for a long time, "So... we can't just take it and not keep anything?"
"correct."
He sighed. "Do you have a solution? We can't just let everyone freeze, can we?"
“Yes.” Nana opened the knowledge base interface. “A rotation mining mechanism can be established, regions can be divided, mining frequency can be limited, and a resource replenishment process can be initiated at the same time.”
"Sounds like clocking in at work." He grinned. "But... well, it's better than running yourself ragged later."
They returned to the control room; the heating was on, but Chen Hao still felt cold. He rubbed his hands together and leaned closer to the screen. "What do you suggest?"
Nana outlined a plan: the forest would be divided into three zones for rotation, with only one zone open for logging each quarter; shallow mining areas would be backfilled and marked with recovery periods; agricultural waste would no longer be burned but instead composted to support the planting sheds.
"That saves trouble," Chen Hao nodded. "Anyway, rotten vegetable leaves are just sitting there anyway."
"In addition, I suggest establishing a resource usage registration system," she added. "Each time fuel, tools, and consumables are collected, the purpose and quantity should be recorded to avoid waste."
Chen Hao frowned. "Isn't this just like managing money? Who wants to submit expense reports every day?"
“It can simplify the process,” Nana said. “For example, we can use color labels to categorize uses—red for essential survival, yellow for daily consumption, and green for alternatives.”
"Oh." He thought for a moment, "Then boiling water is red, warming myself by the fire is yellow, and cooking instant noodles with an egg is green?"
"Reasonable."
He laughed out loud, "You really know how to divide things."
“The system needs clear rules,” she said. “Chaos leads to resource waste.”
Chen Hao leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. "But just setting rules won't get anyone to read them. You write a ten-page report, and everyone just glances at it and throws it away."
"There is indeed a problem with the efficiency of dissemination."
“We need something eye-catching.” He stood up, pulled out a box of colored pencils and a large sheet of paper, and said, “Let’s make a poster.”
Nana watched him draw; the lines were crooked and the characters were of varying sizes. He drew a fat man carrying a saw, next to a square-headed robot holding a pickaxe, and below it read: "Save a little today, so you can have fire tomorrow!"
"The artistic expression needs improvement," she commented.
“But it’s understandable!” he said proudly. “Anyone can understand it.”
He added, "Indiscriminate mining will leave you penniless; only rotational mining can ensure a continuous supply of charcoal!"
“The grammatical structure is loose,” Nana said, “but the message is conveyed effectively.”
“That works.” He slapped the poster on the wall. “Put it on the door, and everyone who comes in will have to take a look.”
Nana entered the "Resource Rotation Mining Guidelines" into the main control system and set it to be automatically pushed out the next morning. She pulled up the monitoring screen; the storage area was quiet, and the fuel was neatly stacked.
"Do you think anyone will listen?" Chen Hao asked.
“Uncertain,” she said. “Human behavior is more driven by short-term interests.”
“But we have to give it a try.” He picked up a red pen and wrote another line of large characters on the paper: “Saving is not being stingy, it’s leaving a way out for the future.”
He drew an arrow pointing to himself, saying, "See, this is what you call down-to-earth propaganda."
After scanning the last piece of data, Nana said, "It has been synchronized to all terminals. The rules will take effect at 6 a.m. tomorrow."
Chen Hao yawned, his eyes feeling a little sore. He stared at the schedule on the screen and suddenly said, "I used to think that living was just about getting through each day. Now I realize that just getting through isn't enough; you also have to find a way to make sure that one day doesn't affect the next."
“Cognitive upgrade,” Nana said.
"Don't make it sound so mysterious." He waved his hand. "I just think... we're moving so much coal not so that it will all be burned up right away, but so that if we really run out of coal one day, we can hold on for a while."
He paused for a moment, then said, "It's like saving money. Even if you save a little, it's better than having nothing at all."
Nana looked at him and said, “Changes in emotional indicators: anxiety decreased, sense of responsibility increased. This is judged as a positive psychological shift.”
"You still remember this?" he laughed. "Then shouldn't you give me an award certificate?"
This function module is not available.
"Tsk." He curled his lip. "Too rigid."
Neither of them spoke again. The lights in the control room were dim, and the data stream on the screen scrolled slowly. Chen Hao was still clutching the red pen in his hand, the cap bearing teeth marks.
It was completely dark outside, and the wind had picked up again, rattling against the window frame. He remembered how his hands had gone numb from the cold while carrying coal during the day, how the sled had almost overturned on the ice, and how he had told himself, "I'll just live one day at a time."
He doesn't want to say that anymore.
He stood up, walked to the wall, and pressed the poster down to make it stick more firmly.
"I have to say a few words at the meeting tomorrow," he said.
Do I need to prepare any content?
“No need.” He shook his head. “I told you, don’t think these things fall from the sky. They are finite; once they’re used up, they’re gone. If we save a little now, it’s not to wrong ourselves, but to leave an opportunity for future generations.”
“'The people of the future'?” Nana repeated.
“Yes.” He nodded. “What if new people come in the future? We can’t let them walk in and see an empty warehouse.”
Nana slightly adjusted the focus of her optical lens, revealing the crudely printed poster. She didn't respond, but simply set the reminder time for the rotation plan to 6:00 AM daily.
Chen Hao sat back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He felt tired, but his mind was clear. This clarity wasn't because he'd had enough sleep, but because he finally realized that some things couldn't be left unattended indefinitely.
Looking at the numbers flashing on the screen, he suddenly said, "Let's stop calling it 'data collection mission' from now on."
"Change the name?"
“It’s called… Recycling Day,” he said. “It sounds like going to collect your own stuff, not stealing from others.”
“Semantic optimization in progress.” Nana entered the new name. “Schedule updated: Next retrieval date is set for fourteen days from now, target area—B area forest.”
Chen Hao nodded. "Okay. I'll lead the team then."
"Your physical exhaustion rating last time was C."
"I'm not going to risk my life this time," he laughed. "I'll just stand here and give orders, and also keep an eye on who's slacking off."
Nana archived the last rule. The console beeped softly, indicating that the system update was complete.
Chen Hao stared at the line of text "Resource rotation mining plan has been activated" for a long time.
He picked up a pen and wrote another line of small characters on the paper, hiding it on the back of the poster:
"Don't let the future hate us now."
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