Chen Hao stared at the waveform on the screen, his fingers aching from typing on the keyboard. The green line for the oxygen supply module was still running, as smoothly as if nothing had happened.
He didn't say anything, but played the abnormal signal again. Zoomed in, and zoomed in some more. The pixels were almost like mosaics.
“This thing…is not noise,” he said in a low voice.
Susan stood to the side, the pen refill she had just replaced snapped in two. She didn't pick it up, but stared at the tiny pulse signal.
"It appears after the capacitor switches, and it's always there," Chen Hao clicked the mouse. "And the timing is very precise, less than half a millisecond off."
Nana's voice came from behind the terminal: "The feedback signals of the seven fault events have been re-marked. Six of them can be confirmed to have the same pattern, only the data is missing when the lighting main controller flashes for the second time."
“There are six of them.” Chen Hao looked up. “The machine isn’t broken, it’s just been frightened.”
Carl leaned against the oscilloscope, his legs feeling uncomfortable, so he shifted his weight to the other foot. "You said they...are afraid of electricity?"
“It’s not that we’re afraid.” Chen Hao picked up a marker and drew a jagged line on the whiteboard. “It’s that we’re giving the wrong rhythm. It’s like dancing and stepping out of step; you immediately panic.”
Susan frowned: "You mean, because the phase wasn't aligned, the device thought the power supply was going to explode and tripped the circuit breaker itself?"
"More or less." Chen Hao switched the log to a side-by-side view. "You see, when normally functioning devices are connected, the phase difference is within 0.02 degrees. The ones that have problems have a minimum of 0.026 and a maximum of 0.034. Such a tiny difference is undetectable by instruments, but some voltage regulator circuits are particularly sensitive and will treat it as an overload."
The lab was silent for a few seconds.
"So," Susan began slowly, "we spent three days working on this because the machine was too 'serious'?"
“Right.” Chen Hao chuckled. “We built a smart power source, only to find that the electrical appliances were too honest and wouldn’t play dead.”
Carl snorted: "So what do we do now? Make all the devices learn to play dumb?"
“No.” Chen Hao turned to Nana. “Could you record the phase of each capacitor switching? Accurate to four decimal places.”
"Yes. Real-time synchronization delay will not exceed 0.001 seconds."
“Okay.” He then asked, “Can you predict the phase of the next handover and inform the devices that are about to connect in advance?”
Nana paused for a moment, and the optical lens rotated slightly.
"Theoretically feasible. A two-way communication protocol needs to be established, and phase calibration handshake needs to be completed before the device is connected."
"Then let's do it." Chen Hao slammed his hand on the table. "Don't let them fight every time they meet."
Susan immediately sat back down at the operating station: "I can rewrite the access control program and add a pre-inspection process. Before the device goes online, it should report its tolerance range, and the system will automatically adjust the output phase."
"Is the cost high?" Carl asked.
“We don’t need to touch the core power supply,” she said. “We just add a layer of scheduling logic, similar to a traffic light. When a car arrives, we first check what type of vehicle it is before deciding whether to let it pass.”
"That's good." Carl breathed a sigh of relief. "If we changed the power supply structure, we would have to start all over again."
Chen Hao walked to the main control panel and opened the master equipment list. Forty-seven units, all marked in red.
"Let's test three first," he said. "One for lighting, one for oxygen supply, and one for data nodes. These are all critical systems; if something goes wrong, no one can cover it up."
"I'll adjust the lighting parameters." Susan had already started typing code.
“I’ll rewrite the access protocol for the oxygen supply system.” Carl moved to another terminal, his movements slow but steady.
Nana's body emitted a slight buzzing sound and began generating a new communication template.
Chen Hao didn't sit down, but paced back and forth checking the progress on both sides. He had a pen cap between his teeth, and his cheeks were puffing out.
Half an hour later, the first version of the calibration program was uploaded.
“The test environment is ready.” Susan looked up. “The virtual load has been connected and is waiting to trigger capacitor switching.”
"Come on." Chen Hao stood in front of the main control screen.
Nana starts the simulation. The blue line slowly climbs, reaches its peak, and the capacitor bank begins to switch.
On the screen, a tiny request signal was sent 0.1 seconds in advance. The power supply responded, fine-tuning the output phase by 0.028 degrees.
The switching is complete, and the voltage curve transitions smoothly without jitter or jumps.
"It's safe now," Susan said softly.
"Run one more round." Chen Hao stared at the timeline. "Ten times in a row."
Ten times later, the system remained stable.
“It can be put into live testing,” Carl said.
Chen Hao nodded: "Let's get the real thing."
They chose an emergency light in the corridor of Zone B. The circuit is independent and will not affect the main network.
Susan brought the modification module over, and Chen Hao personally connected the wires. His hands were trembling slightly, not from nervousness, but from hunger.
"Have something to eat," Carl said, glancing at him.
"Let's wait until the light comes on." Chen Hao tightened the last screw. "I'm afraid if it goes out, I won't even have time to cry."
The module is installed and the power is connected.
Three seconds left in the countdown.
start up.
The blue light climbs along the circuit, the light strip gradually brightens, and then remains steadily lit. There is no flickering or strobe.
On the oscilloscope, the waveform is as flat as if it were drawn with a ruler.
"Done?" Susan stared at the reading.
“No police were called,” Carl added.
“That means it’s done.” Chen Hao plopped down on the ground. “I haven’t slept well for three days, just to see this.”
Susan bent down to check the interface temperature and handed the notebook to Carl.
"The first batch will be ten units," she said, "with priority given to life support systems."
"Are we got enough materials?" Karl flipped through the inventory list.
"That's enough." Chen Hao got up. "If it's not enough, I'll dismantle something else. Anyway, now that we know where the root of the problem is, we're not afraid it won't be cured."
Nana suddenly spoke up: "A new problem has been detected."
Everyone paused.
"Speak," Chen Hao said, his tone unchanged.
“Three devices have already sent phase calibration requests spontaneously without human intervention. This includes the temperature control auxiliary unit, which has not yet been modified.”
"They've become smarter?" Susan was stunned.
“It’s not about learning,” Chen Hao said, stroking his chin. “It’s that those who survived have learned their lesson. Anyone who’s been electrocuted once knows how to dodge.”
"Does that mean..." Susan hesitated for a moment, "that we don't need to modify them one by one? We can let them adapt on their own?"
"We can't afford to gamble," Chen Hao shook his head. "Who knows if it will simply stop working next time? If we take the initiative to change it, at least we'll know when it will be usable."
“That’s true.” She nodded. “Then let’s continue.”
Chen Hao opened the central control interface, found the list of items to be modified, and checked them one by one.
“Let’s fix these ten first.” He circled the targets. “Susan will handle the program distribution, Carl will monitor the data feedback, and Nana will continuously monitor the overall status. I…”
He paused for a moment, then said, "I'm going to cook some instant noodles. I'll also think about how to explain to the construction team why we need to tear down the wall to bury the wiring again."
No one laughed.
But their eyes changed.
The previous heaviness remains, but there's something new underneath.
Like light leaking through a crack.
Ten minutes later, Chen Hao returned with a bowl of instant noodles, steam rising from them.
"The construction team has arrived," he said. "I've already said that this isn't about fixing a malfunction, it's about upgrading the user experience. Have them follow the new blueprints."
Susan took the design drawings and glanced at them: "Did you add a signal synchronization line in the mezzanine?"
"Hmm." He took a sip of his noodles. "Since we're going to change it, let's make it thorough. From now on, all devices will need to establish a handshake before powering on. That'll save us from all the trouble every day."
Is the budget sufficient?
"Even if it's not enough, we have to keep going." He chewed on a flatbread. "Life is more valuable than money."
Carl suddenly looked up: "That backup energy storage tank in Sector C was originally connected to a secondary capacitor. Should we also add a calibration module to it?"
"Add them." Chen Hao wiped his mouth. "Every single one of them, including 'Little Blue,' is indispensable."
Susan began compiling the component list, while Nana simultaneously generated the wiring plan.
Chen Hao stood in front of the main control panel, looking at the status bar of the first successfully modified lighting unit.
Green, stable, and continuously operating.
He reached out and tapped the screen.
"Don't scare me next time."
As soon as he finished speaking, the lamp suddenly flickered.
Everyone looked up.
It's not flickering, it's just slight fluctuations in brightness, like breathing.
Then it returned to normal.
"A coincidence?" Susan asked.
"Check it out." Chen Hao stared at the screen. "See if it was... that sent me a message."
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