As soon as the console's notification tone stopped, Nana moved. She swiped her finger across the panel, bringing up the data stream interface, where lines of green characters scrolled rapidly.
"The external signal has been disconnected, confirming it was a mistaken connection," she said. "All collected data has been synchronized and analysis can begin."
Chen Hao was yawning in his chair when he heard this, and immediately sat up straight. "Wait, get to the point first—are those things edible?"
Susan rolled her eyes. "Is there anything else in your head besides food?"
"I can pretend, but I'm too lazy to pretend." Chen Hao scratched his head. "I'm lazy; I need someone to push me to move."
Carl stood with his arms crossed beside the projector, staring at the piece of ore they had just seen. "Have the spectral data for the vines come out yet? I'd like to see if we can use it in night vision equipment."
"Loading." Nana clicked the confirm button, and the wall projection flashed, switching to the category directory: Land Crab, Glowing Vines, Underground Fungal Community.
“We’ll go in order,” she said, “starting with the first species.”
The scene shifts, and a small, blue-gray creature appears on the screen, its six legs tucked under its body, slowly crawling over a rock.
“This is a land crab,” Nana said. “It is about eight centimeters long, has a hard shell, moves quickly over short distances, and its main food source is moss and humus.”
Chen Hao leaned closer to take a look. "This thing has a shell thicker than iron; you really can't bite into it if you don't have strong teeth."
“But its poop is useful.” Susan opened her notebook. “I noticed at the scene that the fungi grew much faster where it went.”
Nana played a video. In the video, on the seventh day after the land crabs were introduced into a barren area of soil, tiny white mycelium began to appear.
“Experimental data show that microbial activity increased by 47%,” she said. “The rate of organic matter decomposition increased by nearly half.”
"So, in other words," Chen Hao stroked his chin, "if we raise a bunch of these things, we can make the vegetable garden fertile?"
“Theoretically feasible.” Nana nodded. “They don’t require a complicated breeding environment, are cold- and moisture-resistant, and their breeding cycle is estimated to be twenty to thirty days.”
“The base’s current fertilizer inventory is only enough to last for two months,” Susan said. “If we can use this kind of biological fertilizer to replace chemical fertilizer, it will be more stable in the long run.”
"Then let's try catching a few." Chen Hao slammed his hand on the table. "Anyway, there are plenty of cracks in the rocks on the island, let them squeeze in."
“I recommend establishing enclosed breeding areas,” Nana added, “to prevent unknown interactions with other species.”
"Okay, whatever you say." Chen Hao waved his hand. "Next."
The screen switched, and a video of a dark cave appeared. Vines clung to the rock wall, the backs of their leaves gleaming with a faint blue-green light.
“These are glowing vines,” Nana said. “They glow when stimulated by vibration or changes in humidity, lasting for an average of four minutes, with a recovery period of about two hours.”
“We relied entirely on it for lighting in the cave,” Chen Hao interjected. “It’s energy-efficient and waterproof.”
Karl stared at the spectrum graph. "What's the energy conversion efficiency?"
“It’s 1.8 times the average level of existing bio-light sources,” Nana replied, “and it doesn’t require external energy supply, relying solely on the metabolism of symbiotic bacteria to maintain its energy.”
“It works better than a flashlight,” Carl said in a low voice, “and it won’t attract bugs.”
“The problem is that there are too few plants,” Susan frowned. “The success rate of transplanting whole plants is low, and broken branches are prone to failure.”
“It doesn’t necessarily have to survive.” Nana pulled up a gene fragment comparison diagram. “Fluorescent bacteria can be isolated and cultured, and in the future, they may be able to be implanted into other plants.”
"You mean..." Chen Hao's eyes lit up, "to turn cabbages into streetlights?"
“The technical approach is feasible,” Nana said. “If successful, it can be used for the base’s perimeter nighttime lighting system, reducing power consumption.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Carl nodded. “Especially on the cordon side, it’s dark there, so someone has to patrol.”
"Then let's make a trial planting plan," Chen Hao said. "Let's start by using a few pots of soil as a control experiment."
“I will prepare the culture medium.” Susan closed her notebook. “We’ll begin once the first batch of strains is purified.”
The scene shifts again, this time to a series of underground profile images. A complex network of mycelium is distributed in the soil layers three to eight meters deep, like an invisible net.
“Finally, there’s the underground fungal community,” Nana said. “It’s widely distributed and forms symbiotic relationships with specific tree roots. Most notably, it has responsive characteristics.”
She released two sensor recordings. The first disturbance occurred five meters to the east, and thirty minutes later, the mycelial activity on the west side, seven meters away, showed synchronous fluctuations.
“The delay is 2.1 seconds,” she said. “The error is no more than 0.05 seconds.”
“It’s not random,” Susan immediately replied. “The frequency is too consistent.”
"So?" Chen Hao shrugged. "We're going to use mushrooms to send WeChat messages?"
“We cannot rule out the possibility of information transmission at present,” Nana said. “This stability is close to the neural signal transmission pattern, which I have named the ‘bioneural simulation hypothesis’.”
"It sounds like a sci-fi movie," Chen Hao grinned. "But I like it."
“The key issue is that there aren’t enough samples,” Susan pointed out. “Another container fell into the sea on the day of the storm, and now it’s only half full.”
“The damaged parts must be repaired,” Nana said. “I suggest applying to establish an isolation and cultivation chamber for long-term observation.”
“This project must be given priority,” Susan said firmly. “If we can truly achieve cross-regional biocommunication, its significance will far exceed that of agriculture or lighting.”
"Where's the money?" Chen Hao asked. "Where are the materials? Where's the manpower? We don't have that many resources to experiment recklessly."
"So I did a grading assessment." Nana opened a new document, and the title "Comprehensive Value Assessment Report of New Species" appeared.
“It’s divided into three levels,” she said: “short-term practicality, medium-term expansion, and long-term strategy.”
Projection switching:
1. Short-term: Trial planting of luminescent vines for cave and passageway lighting;
2. Mid-term: Farming land crabs improves soil and alleviates fertilizer crisis;
3. Long-term: Establish a fungal laboratory to study the potential of signaling networks.
“All three directions have been listed,” Nana said. “Please vote to decide their priority.”
"Can't we just go all in?" Chen Hao muttered.
“Resources are limited,” Susan said. “We can only choose one main direction.”
“I support the fungal project,” Susan raised her hand. “It’s the only technological breakthrough that could potentially change the way we live.”
“I agree,” Carl said. “Existing communication systems are too fragile and crumble when there is a power outage. A live network would be much more reliable.”
"You two are really thinking ahead," Chen Hao sighed. "But we're almost starving, and you're still researching mushrooms for communication?"
“Lighting and soil improvement are also solutions,” Nana cautioned, “but they are optimizations within existing technological frameworks, while fungal networks may represent a completely new paradigm.”
"Does it mean—either keep patching things up, or take a big gamble?"
"correct."
The meeting room fell silent for a few seconds.
“I’m just like Susan,” Carl said. “I’m betting big.”
“Count me in,” Susan said.
Nana looked at Chen Hao.
"Sigh." He leaned back in his chair. "You two scientists and a robot teamed up to fool me. How could I say no?"
“You can refuse,” Nana said.
“But I don’t want to be the one holding everyone back.” Chen Hao sat up straight. “Alright, let’s get the fungus project started. But let’s make it clear, if I don’t see any progress within three months, I’ll turn it into a mushroom soup pot.”
"Deal." Susan smiled.
"What do we need to do next?" Carl asked.
“First, repair the sample containers,” Nana said. “Second, build a constant temperature and humidity incubation chamber; third, design a disturbance-response monitoring system.”
"Has the materials list been prepared?"
“Generation is underway.” Nana’s control panel reads, “Expected consumables include a sealed glass cover, a temperature control module, a micro-sensor array… a total of seventeen items.”
“Some of them you have to look in the old warehouse,” Susan said. “No one has cleaned that place in a long time.”
“I’ll go,” Carl stood up. “And while I’m at it, I’ll see if there are any usable metal racks.”
"Don't touch anything rusty," Chen Hao warned. "Last time you brought a shelf back, and it leaked oil in the middle of the night, making the whole tool shed smell."
“Got it.” Karl picked up the ore and put it in his pocket. “Check the composition of this stuff on the way.”
After the door closed, only three people remained in the room.
Nana continued compiling the report. "I will upload the preliminary plan to the main database and wait for the approval process to begin."
"Do you really think it can work?" Chen Hao suddenly asked.
“I don’t know.” Nana looked at him. “But all major discoveries were initially considered impossible.”
"That's quite philosophical," Chen Hao chuckled. "So, should you be saying something like 'human potential is limitless' now?"
“I don’t want to say things against my conscience,” Nana said. “I’m just making judgments based on the data.”
"You're really honest." Chen Hao stretched. "Alright, I should go to sleep too. I still have to keep an eye on them moving the soil tomorrow."
He stood up, stretched his arms and legs, and stopped at the door.
"Oh, right." He turned around, "Remember to let me know when the incubation chamber is built."
"Why?"
“If I actually get online,” he blinked, “I want to try sending the first message.”
What is the content?
“I just said—” He opened his mouth.
"Hello?"
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