The vent stopped blowing, the crystal on the table flashed, and blue light swept across the wall.
Chen Hao didn't move, his hand still shielding his eyes. The light was much brighter than before, as if he had suddenly opened his eyes from a deep sleep.
He lowered his hand, stared at the sampling bag for a long time, then suddenly turned and walked to the control panel, took out yesterday's logbook, and flipped through the pages one by one. The paper made a rustling sound. Susan looked up at him; Carl was tightening the last screw, and Nana's lens slightly turned, pointing at him.
"What are you planning to do now?" Carl asked.
Chen Hao didn't answer, his finger hovering over a line of text. It was a sentence he had jotted down last night: "After the bright light goes out, the recovery time is about twelve seconds."
He stared at the words, but an earlier event flashed through his mind—the incomplete report that Nana had pulled from a tattered book in the base's archives. At the time, everyone only noticed the 29 degrees north latitude and the high-pressure, low-temperature zone, but one sentence was overlooked: "Under specific temperature and pressure conditions, silicon-based composites can enter a resonance state."
He couldn't explain why he suddenly thought of this now. Perhaps it was because the light he had just seen was so unusual, as if it were a response to something.
He jumped up and slammed his hand on the table: "We've gone the wrong way."
All three of them looked at him.
“It’s not a battery, nor is it fuel.” Chen Hao brought up the projector and enlarged the old text. “We’ve always used it as a power source, but it’s not something to be drained dry. It needs to be ‘awakened’.”
"What do you mean?" Susan asked.
“When do you see it glow? Not when it’s powered on, but when the environment changes.” Chen Hao listed them one by one, “It flashes spontaneously in the wild, goes out briefly after being exposed to strong light, and now it suddenly brightens again—it’s reacting, but it only reacts to specific stimuli.”
Carl frowned: "So you're going to put it in the oven?"
"Pretty much." Chen Hao nodded. "Nana, can you still find the original model of that report? What conditions are theoretically required to activate that material?"
Nana accessed the database, and a set of data quickly appeared on the screen. "The theoretical model with the highest matching degree is deep crustal phase change material. Recommended experimental environment: temperature 80 degrees Celsius plus or minus 5 degrees, air pressure increased to 1.8 times the standard atmosphere."
"High temperature and high pressure?" Susan frowned. "We're using a backup module right now, and its heat dissipation can't last long anyway."
“I know,” Chen Hao nodded, “but we have to try. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck here forever.”
Karl shook his head: "Last time it was the voltage regulator module that exploded. What if the reaction chamber can't withstand it this time? The entire laboratory might lose power."
“There are definitely risks,” Chen Hao admitted. “But we don’t even know if it can output stably right now. We won’t get any results in three years just by observing.”
“Let’s try it on a small scale first,” Susan said. “Trigger it with the lowest power pulse and monitor for ten minutes. Stop immediately if any abnormality is detected.”
Carl glanced at her, then at Chen Hao, and finally sighed: "Alright, but I have to reinforce the seals and connect temporary cooling pipes."
"I'll go move the cold storage tanks." Chen Hao grinned. "You were right, these things have a bad temper and need to be taken care of."
The four immediately split up and took action.
Susan checked the spectrometer filter to confirm the stability of the readings under thermal interference; Carl disassembled the side panel of the reaction chamber, replaced the pressure gasket, and connected the conduit; Nana adjusted the environmental control system and preset the temperature and pressure curve; Chen Hao carefully transferred the crystals in the sampling bag into a new container.
“Don’t blame me for not warning you,” Carl said as he tightened the screws. “If it explodes again, the next repairmen will all have to wear blast helmets.”
"Then wear one more." Chen Hao put the container inside the cabin. "Anyway, you have a big head."
The equipment started up one after another, and the humming sound returned. This time, instead of directly connecting to the power supply, the system was first heated and pressurized. The curve on the display screen slowly climbed, and when the temperature reached sixty degrees Celsius, the coolant circulation fluctuated, and the alarm sounded briefly.
"The heat dissipation can't keep up." Karl immediately switched to manual mode, opened the bypass valve, and introduced the refrigerant into the secondary pipe.
"The filter is offset by 0.3 degrees." Susan adjusted the angle. "The spectrum is now usable."
The temperature continued to rise, to seventy, seventy-five, seventy-eight… and finally stabilized at eighty degrees. The air pressure simultaneously reached 1.8 times the normal level.
The crystals inside the chamber remained still, their surfaces tinged with a faint blue.
"What's next?" Susan asked.
“Try a low-frequency pulse.” Chen Hao pressed the switch on the signal generator and input a set of slowly fluctuating waveforms, “like a wake-up call.”
The first pulse lasted for ten seconds, with no response.
The second round, with a 30-second interval, had its intensity slightly adjusted.
Just as the third round started, the blue light suddenly trembled.
“There’s a change!” Susan stared at the screen. “The emission frequency has increased from 6.8 Hz to 7.2 Hz, and it’s stabilizing.”
Chen Hao remained silent and continued to maintain the pulse output.
A minute passed, and the blue light changed from flickering to a continuous glow, like a lit filament. The energy reading on the display screen began to rise slowly, from 0.5 to 1.2, then to 2.3, and finally stabilized at 4.7.
“It… has stabilized,” Susan said softly.
"It's still rising!" Karl stood up, staring at the chart. "No sign of it dropping!"
Nana simultaneously collected data and generated a preliminary curve. "The energy output remained stable for five consecutive minutes, and no reverse pulses or corrosive byproducts were detected."
Chen Hao let out a long sigh and plopped down in a chair: "It's done."
"Not entirely successful." Susan looked at the overheating warning message. "The backup module is nearing its overload limit and can only last for another forty minutes at most."
"That's enough." Chen Hao shook his head with a smile. "As long as they're willing to give it to us, we can find a way to raise the price gradually."
Carl didn't laugh, but he didn't object either. After checking the seal, he said in a low voice, "The heating module is severely aged; it needs to be replaced next time."
"Write it into the improvement list." Chen Hao picked up his pen and wrote the first line in his notebook: "755 days, 10:17 a.m., first stable energy extraction achieved, output value 4.7 units, lasting for more than five minutes."
Susan took the pen and added observation details. Nana began organizing the background data stream, preparing to generate a complete model.
The atmosphere in the lab had changed. It was no longer the anxious frustration of relentlessly pushing forward, nor the helpless silence, but rather a sense of steady progress.
Chen Hao leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He hadn't slept well that night, but he didn't feel tired at all.
"If I had known it was this easy, I should have gone to graduate school during college," he said.
“You failed three subjects.” Susan said without looking up.
"That's because you're not allowed to copy from the book during exams," Chen Hao argued confidently. "Aren't we still finding ways to cheat by looking up information these days?"
Nana suddenly spoke up: "We've found a new clue."
Everyone looked over.
“When comparing historical data, a similar record was identified.” Her voice was steady. “Three years ago, the base conducted a high-energy material stability test. Project E-7 was terminated midway, with the reason listed as ‘uncontrollable resonance risk’.”
“E-7?” Carl frowned. “I’ve heard of that project. The person in charge was Dr. Lane, who disappeared during the evacuation.”
"What is the test subject?" Chen Hao asked.
"Unknown silicon-based composite mineral, originating from 29 degrees north latitude."
The air went still for a moment.
“So,” Susan began slowly, “this isn’t the first time it’s been discovered?”
“This isn’t the first time they’ve failed.” Karl looked at the reaction chamber. “They probably got to this point back then, and then something went wrong.”
Chen Hao stared at the display screen; the value remained stable at 4.7.
“That means we know a bit more than they do,” he said. “They didn’t know it’s sensitive to strong light, nor did they know it requires a combination of temperature and pressure. Every step we take now is new.”
“But it could also be a repeat of the same mistakes,” Carl said in a low voice.
“Then let’s slow down.” Chen Hao stood up. “Let’s stop here for today, let the machine rest for a bit, and let us catch our breath. We’ll do another round tomorrow, with some variables, and see if it can still hold up.”
Susan closed her notebook, a tired smile on her face. Carl began disassembling the cooling pipes, his movements much more efficient than in the morning. Nana continued running the analysis program, the screen displaying a constantly updating stream of data.
Chen Hao walked to the window. Outside, the sky was gray and the wasteland stretched out quietly.
He glanced back at the reaction chamber; the blue light was still on, as stable as a living heart.
"Hey," he said to the cabin, "don't throw a tantrum tomorrow."
No one answered, but the light flickered slightly, as if it had understood.
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