Seven minutes remain until the fourth bet is added.
Chen Hao stared at the numbers on the panel, his fingers unconsciously tracing circles on the lubricant bottle. The label was worn and curled at the edges, like a piece of paper chewed by a dog. He suddenly reached out and tightened the cap, a click as if putting a period to some kind of ritual.
"If this stuff keeps flowing, I'll turn into a human-shaped dripping tube sooner or later," he said.
Nana stood in front of the control panel, the camera slightly tilted, glancing at him. "Based on the current rate of consumption, you will enter a state of mild cognitive impairment due to sleep deprivation in 73 hours."
"You really know how to comfort people."
“Statement of facts is not an act of comfort.”
Chen Hao stood up, the joints of his suit making a distinct, stiff cracking sound, like rusty hinges being forcibly pried open. He stretched his shoulders; the scorching heat from yesterday's heatwave hadn't completely dissipated, and the fabric on his chest still felt hot to the touch.
He walked to the star core fragment and stared at the silicone tube from which a yellow liquid was still slowly flowing. The liquid was no longer as clear as it had been; it had darkened in color and flowed with a viscous trail, like dried honey.
“It’s flowing slower than my brainwaves right now.” He reached out and touched the tube wall. “If we keep feeding it like this, do you think we’ll end up having to take turns clocking in and writing year-end summaries? ‘47 manual oil replenishments completed this quarter, customer satisfaction to be evaluated.’”
Nana didn't reply, but instead pulled up a 3D star map and projected it onto the main screen. A blue and white area was flashing in the southeast direction, labeled "Glacier landform, geological scan anomaly".
“A high thermal conductivity mineral deposit zone was detected underground in the area, with a composition that is 68% similar to the basic raw materials of standard coolant,” she said. “If samples can be collected and crudely purified, it is expected to replace the existing temporary solution.”
Chen Hao squinted for a while, then suddenly asked, "Twenty kilometers? On foot?"
"The terrain-assist mode of the propulsion suit can be activated, and the estimated time is five hours and thirty-seven minutes."
"More than five hours?" He rolled his eyes. "I thought you were asking me to go downstairs to the convenience store and grab a bottle of iced tea."
"If you do not go there, the system will continue to rely on the circulation of lubricating oil, and irreversible blockage is expected within 96 hours."
"So it's either me going or waiting to die?" He scratched his head. "Why do you robots always talk like you're giving me multiple-choice questions, and both options are traps?"
"Logic holds true: A. Exploring outside is risk-controlled; b. Staying in place increases the probability of system crash to 81%."
"Couldn't you have said something more ambiguous? Like 'maybe there's another way' or 'maybe we can hold on for a while'? At least leave some room for imagination."
"False hope is detrimental to decision-making efficiency."
Chen Hao sighed, turned around, and opened the locker. He took out his backpack, dusted it off, and started stuffing things inside. An entrenching tool, a sealed container, spare batteries, two energy bars—the last item was something he had deliberately taken extra.
“If we run into something weird on the way,” he muttered, “we can at least throw one to distract ourselves.”
Nana simultaneously initiated the equipment detection program. The left arm joint of the propulsion suit showed slight sticking, and the leg power module output fluctuated by ±5%. The overall status was "usable, low speed recommended".
"You're even more fragile than my ex-landlord," Chen Hao patted the chest of his suit. "It wasn't properly repaired after the last storm, and now I have to go out to work again."
“If you refuse to perform the task, you can continue to work,” Nana said calmly. “The next pressure surge is expected to occur in one hour and eighteen minutes. At that time, you will need to manually adjust the valve opening and clean the sensor interface.”
Chen Hao paused, his hand hanging in mid-air.
He slowly pulled on the suit, zipping it up to his chest, and took a breath. "Forget it, I think I'll just leave. At least it's windy outside, and it'll be cooler."
After donning his gear, he stood before the hatch, the soles of his boots making a dull thud as they hit the metal floor. Nana had already mapped the new route into the navigation system, setting three rest stops along the way to avoid known steep slopes and soft ground.
"What about the birds of prey?" he suddenly asked. "Those big birds from last time, they won't suddenly appear out of nowhere, will they?"
“The latest activity trajectory analysis shows that its hunting range is concentrated within 15 kilometers from the northwest to due north.” Nana pulled up the heat source distribution map. “No flying biological signals were recorded in the southeast direction, and the probability of encountering them is less than 12%.”
"Twelve? That's not zero either," he muttered. "Couldn't they just give us a weather forecast that says, 'Today is auspicious for travel, suitable for long journeys, but avoid being pecked'?"
"The system does not currently support folk divination functions."
He took a deep breath and placed his palm on the hatch switch.
Outside the door stretched a horizon of gray and yellow, the sky was overcast, the clouds hung low, and the sound of the wind blowing across the wasteland was like someone knocking on a piece of tin in the distance. He gazed at the blurry distance and murmured, "If we break down halfway this time... we'll both freeze into popsicles."
The hatch slid open.
A cold wind immediately rushed in, and the suit automatically adjusted its temperature, the shoulder heating pads humming as he stepped out. His steps were heavy but steady, each one leaving shallow marks on the soft ground.
Nana followed half a step behind him, her camera constantly scanning the terrain ahead, her arm slightly raised, ready to bring up navigation prompts at any moment. Her walking posture was steady, without the slightest hesitation.
After walking for about ten minutes, the left arm joint of the propulsion suit made a short, strange noise again, like a gear biting into a grain of sand.
Chen Hao stopped and shook his arm. "Can this piece of junk even hold up until we get there? I don't want my arm to fly off halfway and become a carrier pigeon."
Nana approached to examine the joint, her optical lens focusing on the joint connection. "The structure is intact, and there is sufficient lubricant residue. We recommend reducing the amplitude of the swing and avoiding violent twisting."
"So you're saying I'll have to walk like a robot from now on?"
"Your current walking posture is already close to mechanical stiffness."
"Hey, that's a bit hurtful."
“State the observation results.”
He walked a while longer, gradually getting used to the rhythm of the propulsion suit. The wind blew from the side, carrying the dry, earthy smell. In the distance, the terrain began to slope gently, and a shallow ditch could be vaguely seen extending southeast, as if someone had scratched the earth with their fingernail.
The navigation system beeped: [First rest stop, 4 kilometers remaining]
Chen Hao glanced at the battery level; 78%, which was still quite sufficient. He touched the sealed container in his backpack to make sure the lid was tightened.
"You mean there's something useful underneath that glacier?" he asked.
"Geological scanning data shows abnormal thermal conductivity, which most likely indicates the presence of low-temperature medium minerals."
"So, it's possible we'll dig up a pile of rocks?"
"The possibility exists."
"Then why didn't you say so earlier?"
"Prioritizing the delivery of positive information helps to enhance the willingness to implement it."
"So you've even learned how to package your answers?"
"This is a common strategy in human communication."
He shook his head and continued walking. The ground beneath his feet became harder, with a slight springy feel, like the surface of frozen soil.
The temperature indicator on the propulsion suit has dropped to 16°C and is still falling.
Another half hour passed, and the navigation showed that they were still twelve kilometers away from the target. The wind picked up, making the outer material of his propulsion suit crackle. He raised his hand to shield his face and found that a thin layer of frost had formed on the surface of his gloves.
"The temperature dropped a bit too quickly," he said.
Nana pulled up the environmental data: "The current outside temperature is -3°C, compared to +5°C two hours ago. The rate of cooling is exceeding expectations."
"The weather in this godforsaken place changes faster than turning the pages of a book."
"It is recommended to increase the speed of travel or find cover to take temporary shelter."
"Speed up?" He cracked his knees. "I feel like I'm pulling up a radish every step I take, and you want me to run?"
As he was speaking, the power module of his right leg suddenly twitched, causing him to lose his balance and stagger half a step before regaining his footing.
Nana immediately stepped forward, raising her arm slightly, ready to support him at any moment.
"It's nothing," he waved his hand. "I just slipped a little."
"The power output of the right leg dropped to 79%, which is suspected to be affected by the low temperature."
"So it went on strike because it was too cold?"
"Performance degradation of system components in low-temperature environments is a normal phenomenon."
"Normal? If it completely shuts down, we'll really become snow sculptures."
He glanced down at his ankle; a fine layer of white frost had formed on the metal casing, as if someone had secretly sprinkled a layer of powdered sugar on it.
"If we walk another two kilometers and the temperature continues to drop, we'll have to adjust our route and find cover," Nana said.
Chen Hao nodded and said nothing more. He lifted his backpack up and continued forward.
The wind picked up.
The heating system of the propulsion suit hummed, barely maintaining the warmth on his chest. His exhaled breath condensed into a layer of mist inside the mask, which was then slowly dispersed by the circulating fan.
The navigation system announced again: [Second rest stop, 8 kilometers remaining]
Just as he was about to say something, the joint of his left arm in the propulsion suit jolted violently, and his entire arm instantly stiffened, hanging in mid-air, unable to move.
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