As soon as Chen Hao stepped inside, the cold air crept up his trouser leg, as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water into it. He didn't stop, nor dared to stop; his left arm was still stiff, and the power module in his right leg throbbed and rattled, like an old tractor about to fall apart.
“There’s an unusual reflection in the rock strata three meters ahead.” Nana’s voice came from the side, the blue light swirling rapidly in her eyes. “The preliminary assessment is that it’s a reflection of liquid inside a closed cavity.”
"You mean...water?" He gasped for breath, shuffling forward while gripping the ice wall. "How could there be anything liquid in this godforsaken place? Won't it freeze into an icicle?"
“Geothermal seepage exists in this area, with local temperatures exceeding 0.6 degrees Celsius, sufficient to maintain a liquid state for short periods.”
"Oh, so he's a natural little warmth-bringer." He grinned. "He's quite considerate."
Nana didn't reply, but simply pushed the projection line forward a bit, drawing a crooked path along the ground. Chen Hao followed, squeezing through a narrow gap, his shoulder getting stuck, the fabric screeching as he pushed through. He cursed, but forced himself through.
The deeper he went, the heavier the air became. The frost on his mask thickened, and he could only barely see any holes under his feet by relying on Nana's faint blue light. He took each step carefully, slipping twice and only managing to avoid falling by grabbing the rock wall with one hand.
"Could your navigation be any brighter?" he complained. "Right now, you look to me like one of those glowing plastic skulls at a night market stall."
“Lighting power is limited by the current energy mix,” she said. “If the brightness is increased, the heating system will be further deloaded.”
"Fine, I'd rather be cold than crash into an ice hole." He paused. "Speaking of which, do all robots have this problem? They always force us to choose between two options in crucial moments?"
"This is a fundamental principle of decision-making logic."
"You're quite self-righteous."
Suddenly, a faintly glowing ice shell appeared ahead, its surface uneven, as if something had pushed it up from below. Nana stopped, pointed the camera at the ground, and after a few seconds of blue light sweeping across it, her voice rose slightly: "Continuous flow signal detected, depth approximately 1.2 meters, flow velocity 3.7 centimeters per second."
"Alive?" Chen Hao leaned closer. "Is something really moving?"
"Non-biologically driven, presumably due to slow replacement caused by underground thermal circulation."
As he squatted down, his right knee buckled, and he almost sat down on the ground. Fortunately, Nana reached out and caught him, and the mechanical arm steadily supported his shoulder.
"Thanks," he said, panting. "Next time, could you give me a heads-up? Like, 'Caution: the ground is slippery, please be careful' or something?"
"You didn't ask."
"I am a human being, not an automated question-and-answer machine."
He pulled out his entrenching tool and tried tapping the ice shell; the sound was dull, like hitting rubber. He tried twice, but it didn't budge.
"This thing is harder than steel bars?" He shook his numb hands. "Shouldn't we change our approach? If we try to force it, we'll probably exhaust ourselves first."
Nana brought up the data interface: "According to the knowledge base records, fluorosilicone-based cooling media often exist below the low-temperature semi-solidified layer. It is recommended to use local heating to soften the surface layer."
"You mean I should hold the propellant suit up to its backside and roast it?"
"The residual heating unit in the legs can be activated to release heat in a directional manner."
Chen Hao glanced down at the panel; the battery level had dropped to 58%, and the red warning box was flashing.
"If this falls again, I'll really become an ice sculpture exhibit," he muttered, but still pressed the heating release button.
He felt a heat rising on the outside of his right calf, not high, but steadily. He placed his entrenching tool on the ice, using the back of the tool to direct the heat. After about two minutes, a dark crack appeared around the edge of the ice.
"That's interesting." He perked up. "Let's do it a little longer."
Nana suddenly warned: "The heating duration has exceeded the safety threshold. The system will be forcibly shut down in fifteen seconds."
"Enough." He pulled out the shovel and stomped on the crack with his heel. With a crack, the ice shell split open, and a dark blue liquid slowly seeped out, like an eye opening from the ground.
“The color matches expectations.” Nana moved closer to the scanner. “Spectral analysis complete. The main component is trifluoropropylsiloxane, with a 90.3% match to the basic components of the standard coolant.”
"So, it works?"
"It is feasible to extract it."
Chen Hao grinned: "Haven't we struck gold? Now we have hope of fixing that broken machine."
As he was about to open the sealed container, his hand reached into his backpack, but his fingertips froze—it was too cold, and his fingers wouldn't obey him.
"Troublesome." He breathed on it and rubbed it, but still couldn't feel anything. "Could you... help me get the jar?"
Nana took out a sealed jar and handed it to him. He trembled as he unscrewed the lid, squatted down, aimed it at the crack, and slowly tilted the jar. Blue liquid flowed into the jar, slowly but steadily.
"Fill it to two-thirds full," Nana said. "Leave room for expansion to prevent it from cracking due to low-temperature contraction."
"You're quite knowledgeable about common sense," he said as he drank. "Unlike some people who only know how to report data."
"I'm just avoiding sample loss."
As they were talking, the right leg heating module suddenly went out with a "click," and an alarm popped up: [Insufficient power, non-core functions have been disabled].
“I knew it.” He gritted his teeth. “Every time we’re doing something good, I have to cut off the power to you halfway through.”
"The system prioritizes life support."
"You're talking as if I'm not important."
After filling the jar, he immediately tightened the lid, held it to his chest to test the temperature; it was icy cold to the touch, but not frozen.
"What do we do now? Take it back?"
“I have activated the built-in temperature-controlled chamber.” Nana took the jar, a panel on her chest slid open, and the sealed jar was put inside. “It can maintain an environment of five degrees Celsius.”
"You were hiding this all along?" He looked up at her. "You should have said so earlier. I thought you were some kind of GPS navigator with lights on."
"Function activation must meet the contextual requirements."
Why do you robots always speak in such a roundabout way?
He tried to stand up, but his knees weren't strong enough, and he swayed before managing to brace himself against the wall. Nana reached out and put her hand on his arm; the pressure wasn't strong, but it was enough to keep him steady.
“The return route has been updated,” she said. “It avoids the previously identified crack area, reducing the risk of slipping.”
“Alright, whatever you say.” He took a deep breath. “But I have to say, we were really lucky this time. If we had dug out a bunch of mud, let’s see how you explain ‘abnormal thermal conductivity’.”
"Data doesn't lie."
"But it won't tell you how deep the pit is."
The two began to walk back. They had managed to walk on their own on the way up, but now their strength was almost completely drained, and Chen Hao was basically being half-dragged and half-supported by Nana. Every step was heavy, the soles of their shoes scraping against the ice, as if they were being slowly gnawed away by the ice.
He fell once halfway through, unable to move his left arm. When he fell, he had no way to cushion the fall, and it was only thanks to Nana's timely arm that he didn't land face down.
"Thanks," he said, panting. "I don't even understand how I fall anymore."
"It is recommended to adjust the distribution of the center of gravity."
"I'd like to make the changes, but the question is, which part of the meat will listen to me?"
He got up again and kept walking. The wind blew from behind, making the fabric of his suit rattle as if it were about to burst. A layer of condensation formed on the inside of his mask, and his exhaled breath was churned into a cloud of mist by the fan.
When we finally saw the exit, the dim light of day shone in, like someone had turned on a dim lamp in the distance.
"You're out?" He squinted at it. "I thought I was going to be trapped in this crevice for the rest of my life."
“It’s still 16 kilometers to the rescue capsule,” Nana said. “The estimated walking time is four hours and seventeen minutes.”
"It's going to take this long again?" He rolled his eyes. "Can you stop giving me these numbers all the time? It's exhausting to hear."
"This is an objective fact."
"Objective my foot! Can't you just say 'soon' or 'not far off'?"
"That would not be in line with data accuracy."
"You really are..." He opened his mouth, but in the end only managed to utter, "Fine, I can't argue with you."
They stepped out of the crevice, their feet crunching crisply on the hardened ground. Chen Hao glanced back at the dark entrance, which resembled a closed mouth.
"I hope I never see this place again," he said.
Nana didn't respond, but simply re-projected the navigation line, the red dotted line stretching along the ground into the distance.
Chen Hao looked down at his still trembling hands, then touched his backpack to make sure the entrenching tool was still there.
He took the next step, his right leg trembling slightly, but he didn't stop.
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