When Chen Hao opened his eyes, the light was still there.
It wasn't the kind of bright light that dazzles your head, nor was it a small light bulb struggling to survive in the darkness; it was an evenly spread green, like the color of leaves just sprouting in spring. He leaned against the fox-shaped wall lamp, his back against the slightly warm metal casing, with the photometer lying beside him, its screen already dark.
He blinked, his throat a little dry. "I'm still alive?"
Nana stood to the side, and the optical glasses flashed. "Vitality signs are stable, sleep duration is thirty-seven minutes."
"That's long enough." He propped himself up and sat up, his neck snapping. "Don't think I was rambling on while I was half asleep."
"Which matter?"
“The bathroom,” he said. “It has a light, a table, and a bed, but it lacks a place to shower. If this keeps up, I’ll become an antique.”
Nana didn't move, but a semi-transparent projection suddenly floated in the air, and a three-dimensional diagram of the base slowly rotated. A red dot moved from the main hall to the northwest corner and stopped in the gap between the storage area and the rest pods.
“This area is closest to the drainage outlet, the wall load-bearing capacity meets the standards, and it is far away from the food processing area.” Her voice was as flat as reading an instruction manual. “The preliminary plan shows a usable area of 3.8 square meters.”
Chen Hao tilted his head and looked at it. "It's not big."
“Enough to complete the basic cleaning process.” She swiped her finger, and several dotted lines appeared in the projection, dividing the area into blocks. “The left side is the shower area, the center is the washbasin, and the right side is reserved for passage.”
"Wait a minute." He raised his hand. "In this picture, does a person have to walk naked through the entire room to get their clothes after taking a shower?"
"The logic holds true."
"That won't work!" He slapped the ground. "I'm not some aloof male protagonist in a cultivation novel who can ride the wind and isn't afraid of catching a cold. We need to be realistic."
Nana paused for two seconds, then said, "I suggest adding a changing room and storage module."
"That's more like it." He nodded. "The closet doesn't need to be big, just big enough to hang two changes of clothes. It's best if it has doors, otherwise all the moisture will be absorbed into the fabric, and wearing it will feel like wearing a wet rag."
“The existing materials are insufficient to support the structure of a standalone furniture piece.” She pulled up the resource list: “0.6 square meters of metal sheet remain, and about 1.2 meters of wood scraps.”
Chen Hao stared at the string of numbers for a while, then suddenly grinned and said, "Wall."
"?"
“Look at the wall.” He gestured with his hand. “Isn’t there a vent groove over there? Insert a wooden board horizontally into it to make a partition, add a baffle at the bottom to prevent water from splashing, and hang a curtain on the outside—that’s it.”
Nana quickly scanned the wall structure. "Feasibility assessment in progress... feasible. Embedding depth meets waterproofing requirements, maximum load-bearing capacity is twelve kilograms."
“More than enough,” he said. “Anyway, I don’t have many clothes, and they weigh less than ten pounds in total.”
“But adipose tissue accounts for 39 percent of body weight,” Nana added.
"Hello!"
"Objective data".
Chen Hao rolled his eyes. "Couldn't you at least pretend to compliment me on my 'well-proportioned figure'?"
"The database does not have a record of the applicable scenarios for this adjective."
"Never mind," he waved his hand. "Keep looking at the diagrams. How big is the shower area?"
The projection angle is switched, and a rectangle measuring one meter by 0.8 is marked on the ground.
“Standard standing shower space,” she said. “The showerhead is pre-positioned at the top center, and the water flow covers an angle of 120 degrees.”
"It's too narrow." He shook his head. "How am I supposed to turn around and scrub my back? Get stuck in the corner and wiggle my butt?"
Nana brought up the ergonomic simulation screen, where a virtual human figure attempted to bend over, raise its arms, and turn around in a narrow area, with red warnings appearing for each of the movements.
“The risk of restricted activities is high,” she admitted.
"See that?" Chen Hao pointed. "I'm not Superman, I have to do yoga to take a shower."
“Expand to 1.2 by 1 meter.” She modified the parameters, “The depth of the washbasin needs to be reduced by 10 centimeters.”
“It’s worth it,” he said. “Washing hands is okay, but taking a shower is not.”
After the washbasin was repositioned, the overall layout felt more spacious. Nana also added ventilation direction markers, with blue arrows pointing diagonally upwards from above the shower area.
"Moisture diversion paths have been planned to prevent accumulation near the top circuitry."
"Smart." Chen Hao rarely praised you like that. "If you ever go on strike, I'll dismantle you and use you as an encyclopedia."
"My knowledge base cannot run offline."
"Give it a try, you can even light a fire to keep warm."
"Overheating can lead to data corruption."
"Oh, you're quite afraid of dying."
"I am a robot."
"Yes, I have an iron heart and lungs made of steel, but I just don't understand what it means to 'I want to take a nice hot bath'."
Nana was silent for a moment, but then a new window suddenly popped up on the projector: an abstract of the annual survey report on the satisfaction of civilian sanitary facilities.
"Data shows that users' emotions peak when the two indicators of 'independent space' and 'reasonable traffic flow' are met," she said. "It's not just about water temperature."
Chen Hao was taken aback. "You actually remember this?"
"All human behavioral needs are categorized and analyzed."
He smiled slightly, said nothing, and looked down at the small, square room projected onto the screen. The light shone on his face, casting a crooked shadow on the floor.
After a few seconds, he reached out and pointed in the air, "Could you make a hole under the sink?"
"use?"
"Put a soap dish in there," he said. "Otherwise, you have to shake your hands for ages after washing them, and the floor will be covered in watermarks."
“A pull-out tray can be installed,” Nana responded. “It’s made of non-slip material and easy to remove for cleaning.”
“That works too.” He nodded. “Add a small hook to hang towels.”
"Already marked".
They revised it little by little like this. Every time Nana came up with an idea, she would adjust the model. Sometimes she would say "there is not enough material," and he would try a different approach; sometimes he would try to save time, and she would bring out data to prove why it wouldn't work.
In the final draft, the entire functional area was divided into five parts: shower, washbasin, changing room, storage, and ventilation vents. Each area was marked, even the slope of the floor tiles was indicated as a percentage.
“The drainage slope is one percent,” she said, “to ensure that the water flow rate is not less than 0.3 meters per second.”
"It sounds like a college entrance exam math question," he muttered.
"This is the minimum effective value."
"Alright then." He stretched, his bones cracking. "At least it looks like a proper bathroom now."
Nana turned off the projector, the light filtering into the interface on her back. She turned to look at him. "The next step is the facility selection phase. Shall we begin now?"
Chen Hao didn't answer immediately. He leaned against the wall lamp, his palm touching the old strip of cloth on his chest; the edges were already a bit rough.
He looked down for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Do you think... we're taking this a little too seriously?"
"?"
“I mean,” he looked up, “that’s just the two of us living in this crappy base. We have to calculate the precision for even a simple light, and we have to draw up plans and make arguments to build a bathroom. If other people knew, they’d probably think we’re crazy.”
“The act of construction itself is meaningful,” she said. “You once said that when it’s bright, it’s warm.”
He paused for a moment, then laughed. "Did I say that?"
"You said this while lying on the ground after the 387th energy restart experiment."
"I was burning up with fever back then, so you can't believe what they say."
“But I wrote it down.”
Chen Hao looked at her; the optical mirror reflected the light in the room, making it as clean as a lake.
He didn't refute anymore, but slowly stood up, walked to the spot where the projection had just appeared, and drew a circle in the air with his hand.
"This is it," he said. "We'll start work tomorrow."
Nana nodded. "Materials preparation will take six hours, so I suggest starting the construction process at seven in the morning."
"Whatever." He yawned. "Right now, I just want to lie down."
He turned to leave, but then stopped in his tracks.
"Oh, right," he turned around, "once the bathroom is ready, who's the first to use it?"
Nana replied quickly, "According to the principle of prioritizing usage needs, you should be the one to test it first."
Why?
"Because you sweat 41 percent more than the average."
Chen Hao opened his mouth, but only managed to utter two words:
"That's excessive."
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