The welding torch was still flashing, but Chen Hao's hands didn't stop. He stuffed the third voltage regulator he had just removed into the notch in the circuit board, but the screw got stuck halfway through, his knuckles turned red, and the tape wrapped around his knuckles looked like a rice dumpling.
"Tighten it a little more." Nana stood beside her, her voice as flat as reading an instruction manual. "But I suggest you switch to your other hand. The temperature of your right palm has reached 48 degrees Celsius, which is close to the threshold for second-degree burns."
"It's okay, I'm thick-skinned." He gritted his teeth and screwed the screw all the way in. When he released the wrench, his fingertips brushed against the hot metal casing, and he hissed. "Anyway, I'm not a scientist who makes a living by touch."
Nana didn't reply, but simply retracted the robotic arm half an inch to avoid a flying speck of welding slag.
The lab was filled with modified parts. The electrolytic cell had been raised again, and the cooling pipes were coiled into a spiral outside the reaction chamber. The thin sheet of meteorite iron in the middle was now fixed in place, with several fine marks engraved on its surface—the guide channels that had been painstakingly ground out with a grinding wheel the night before. The air was filled with the smell of burning plastic and oxidized metal, a mixture that sounded like someone had thrown kitchen appliances into a furnace.
Chen Hao wiped his face, leaving a gray line of oil on his forehead. "The problem now isn't that we can't do it, it's that we all have to retire after we've finished." He pointed to several dark gray precipitates on the test tube rack. "These people are more particular than office workers; they have to leave work immediately after they're done."
“Nanoparticle aggregation is a normal physical phenomenon.” Nana pulled up the hologram. “Brownian motion leads to an increased collision frequency. Under no external constraints, the average half-life is three hours and forty-seven minutes.”
"So we need to set rules for them?" He stared at the solution under the faint blue light. "To prevent them from running around?"
"It is theoretically feasible. If a barrier environment can be constructed to restrict the space for free movement, the speed of reunification can be slowed down."
"Barrier...that sounds like a neighborhood fence." He tilted his head and thought for a moment. "We don't have a vacuum chamber or a cryogenic shield, how are we going to do it?"
“Standard quantum confinement synthesis requires -196°C and a vacuum of 10?? Pa.” She paused. “Currently, the cryogenic chamber only reaches -80°C, and the system’s airtightness is insufficient.”
"Then let's not follow the standards." He plopped down on the workbench, his feet dangling on the edge of the old electrical box. "We're not taking a research position exam, why do we have to go through all the procedures?"
He suddenly looked up: "Do you remember when the electricity was turned on just now, that piece of meteorite shook on its own?"
"Current-induced lattice resonance at a frequency of 12.3 kHz lasted for 0.4 seconds."
"When it vibrates, the silver ions in the solution shake along with it." He grinned. "That means the material can transmit signals—so can we use it as a wall?"
"You mean, using crystal vibrations to create a dynamic potential well?"
“Right!” He slapped his thigh. “It moves on its own and doesn’t even need electricity. Let’s add some vibration field around it and turn it into a ‘cage’ so that the particles will obediently line up and deposit inside.”
Nana paused for two seconds, then slightly deflected the optical lens, as if performing rapid internal calculations. "If combined with a periodic pulsed electric field, it is indeed possible to simulate the quantum dot confinement effect. However, precise control of the vibration frequency and the phase difference of the electric field is required."
“You pay your share, I’ll pay mine.” He rolled off the ground and rummaged through a pile of scraps for a few pieces of piezoelectric ceramics. “The leftover scraps from the sonic insect repellent can even generate electricity.”
Ten minutes later, four ceramic plates were adhered to the outer wall of the reaction chamber and connected to a modified signal generator. Chen Hao turned the knob, and the chamber emitted a low-frequency hum, causing water droplets on its surface to bounce.
"Try adjusting the frequency to 8.7GHz," he said.
“That’s the microwave band,” Nana reminded her. “The existing equipment cannot output it stably.”
“Let’s do it step by step.” He disassembled the signal source casing and unhooked two bare wires. “First, we’ll use the intermediate frequency to push it up, and then we’ll use resonance to raise it.”
As he connected the wires, he muttered, "This isn't an experiment, it's a desperate gamble."
On the first startup, the system lasted less than five minutes. The oscilloscope curve spiked, white steam billowed from the cooling pipe interfaces, and the outer wall of the reaction chamber became unbearably hot.
"The heat dissipation is not keeping up." He turned off the power and lifted the insulation to check. "The water cooling circulation is too slow, and the air convection is interfered with by the electromagnetic field."
"I suggest reducing the pulse intensity," Nana said.
“Lowering it won’t be effective.” He shook his head. “It’s either blown up or ruined; there’s no middle ground.”
He squatted on the ground, staring at the circle of blackened solder joints for a long time, then suddenly stood up, walked to the corner, and dragged out a discarded small water pump.
"Was this used for the last dredging?" Nana asked.
“Yes, the power is not high, but it can handle dirty water.” He removed the impeller, cut the water outlet pipe, and connected it to the main cooling system circuit, “to change it to forced circulation, doubling the flow rate.”
After modifying the wiring, he added a layer of foam board to the bottom of the reaction chamber and suspended it on the ventilation frame to reduce heat conduction.
"If it burns again this time, I'll just have to accept my fate and raise rabbits," he said, pressing the start button.
The power indicator light came on, and the ammeter reading slowly increased. The solution began to bubble, and the blue light was more stable than before, without any violent fluctuations.
"The temperature is maintained at 32.6°C," Nana reported. "Cooling efficiency has improved by 58%."
"Goodness, it finally doesn't look like a jet engine anymore." He breathed a sigh of relief and leaned closer to the observation window to look inside.
The meteorite fragment trembled slightly in the electric field, its surface rippling with concentric waves, as if flicked by an unseen hand. Silver ions moved slowly along the gaps in the crystal lattice, accumulating at specific locations.
“The deposition pattern matches the prediction.” Nana’s voice was slightly trembling. “Local energy level splitting characteristics were detected, indicating the initial formation of a quantum dot structure.”
"So..." his eyes lit up, "we're really going to make a makeshift quantum trap?"
“It is not yet fully formed, but a finite barrier has been created.” She pulled up the data stream: “The particle activity range has shrunk by 63%, and the aggregation rate has dropped to 9.2% per hour.”
"So that means I can live a few more hours?" he grinned. "Enough for me to get some sleep."
Before he could finish speaking, the alarm went off.
“Abnormal physiological signals have appeared in section B of the chicken coop.” Nana switched the screen. “The heart rate fluctuations of three medicated individuals exceeded the safety threshold, and one of them experienced a brief convulsion.”
Chen Hao's face darkened: "Is there a problem with the dosage?"
“There are two possibilities,” she analyzed. “First, the initial batch of compound preparations may be unevenly distributed, and differences in activity may lead to absorption deviations; second, the sustained-release procedure may have a delayed response, resulting in excessive intake per unit time.”
“That means it still needs to be modified.” He grabbed his toolbox and headed for the door.
“You don’t need to adjust it yourself,” Nana stopped him. “I can calibrate the titration pump remotely.”
“You don’t know these chickens.” He waved his hand. “I remember how much they eat and what color their droppings are. No matter how precise the machine is, it’s not as reliable as me taking a look.”
When he rushed into the chicken coop, several antibody-bearing chickens were huddled in a corner, their feathers ruffled and their breathing rapid. He squatted down and checked the color of their beaks and the temperature of their claws one by one, finally identifying one with a slightly swollen abdomen.
“This enema was overdose.” He took out a syringe and drew out a little crop fluid. “The concentration is too high; the pump must have malfunctioned.”
He went back to the lab and rewrote the program, breaking down the 0.5 ml per hour dose into six micro-releases, each ten minutes apart, and added a pressure feedback mechanism to immediately stop administration once eating was detected as having stopped.
"And now?" he asked.
“It’s running normally,” Nana confirmed. “The physiological indicators are returning to baseline.”
He leaned against the wall to catch his breath, only to realize that the back of his shirt was completely soaked.
Back in front of the reaction chamber, he stared at the blue light for a long time, then suddenly said, "We can't rely on manual firefighting every time."
"You want to automate?"
“Yes.” He opened the drawer and pulled out a bunch of relays and timer switches. “Since people can’t watch over them 24 hours a day, let the machines do it themselves.”
He began to reorganize the circuit, connecting three voltage regulator modules in parallel to the feedback loop, and using the conductivity of meteorite iron to create a self-excited oscillation device. Whenever the voltage increases, the change in the crystal's own resistance triggers a current interruption, resulting in intermittent power supply.
"This way, we can control the temperature and maintain the frequency," he explained while welding. "It's like putting an automatic throttle on the generator."
During the second trial run, the system worked continuously for two hours without overheating or going out of control.
"The average particle size is 7.4 nanometers." According to Nana's scanning results, "The activity retention rate has exceeded 70% for the first time, and the six-hour stability test has been passed."
Chen Hao stared at the curve on the screen and slowly smiled: "This time... we should be able to hold out until dawn."
He slumped into an old chair in the corner, welding torch still clutched in his hand, the edge of the tape wrapped around his right hand already turning black. A pale blue liquid slowly flowed from the reaction chamber in front of him, like melting night sky dripping into a test tube.
Nana stood in front of the control panel, the optical lens constantly refreshing the data, and the robotic arm finely adjusted the angle of the cooling valve to maintain the system's low-power operation.
"I suggest continuing to observe," she said.
"Hmm." He nodded with his eyes closed, then opened them again. "You tell me... wouldn't you say we've invented something?"
"Not yet named."
"How about calling it 'Meteorite One'?" he yawned. "It sounds like a tractor."
He reached out to take off his goggles, but stopped abruptly just as his fingers touched the frame.
Inside the reaction chamber, the previously steady blue light flickered slightly, followed by a very short spike on the oscilloscope curve that vanished in an instant.
"Was that just now...?" He sat up straight.
Nana has already retrieved the waveform record.
“The peak of the energy fluctuation occurred at 117 seconds.” She spoke faster, “The frequency was 8.702 GHz, and the duration was 0.003 seconds, which perfectly matched the resonant frequency of the piezoelectric field.”
"It resonated on its own?" Chen Hao stared wide-eyed.
“It’s not a passive response.” She stared at the data. “It’s an active feedback—the system is generating synchronous oscillations without any external input.”
He stood up abruptly, ignoring the pain in his hand, and grabbed the notebook.
“One more time,” he said.
"The risks remain."
“I know.” He put the welding torch back into the holder, “but this time, I want to see just how far it can go.”
He reset the parameters, lengthened the pulse interval, gradually increased the current, and stared intently at the center of the reaction chamber.
The blue light shone again, and the solution rippled.
The meteorite fragment vibrated gently, and the frequency gradually increased.
When the voltage reaches the critical value, a very faint fluorescent layer suddenly appears inside the cabin, spreading in a ring shape, as if some kind of signal is being transmitted outward.
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