Chen Hao touched the drop of yellowish-green liquid and immediately withdrew his finger. He looked down and saw the liquid dripping down the battery casing, forming a small puddle on the ground, making a hissing sound.
"This thing is still leaking!" He jumped back a step, his voice rising, "Nana! Cut the power!"
Before she could finish speaking, the red light on the main control panel flashed, and the power was cut off. Nana's robotic arm quickly turned to the leak point, the optical lens swept across the crack, and the data stream rolled rapidly in her field of vision.
“The seal has failed, and the honey coating has cracked,” she said. “It needs to be sealed immediately.”
Chen Hao grabbed a strip of resin from the edge of the workbench and squatted down to apply it to the crack. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the suddenness of the previous action. As he applied the resin, he muttered to himself, "Is this battery for generating electricity or for growing mushrooms? It leaks every day."
Nana didn't reply. Instead, she brought up the tool module, clamped the other end of the wire, and re-secured the connector. Her movements were as steady as a clockwork mechanism, and it clicked shut.
"It's fixed." Chen Hao clapped his hands. "Shouldn't there be any problems now?"
"It's stable for now," Nana said. "I suggest increasing the thickness of the insulation layer."
"Add it if you want, honey's free anyway." He casually smeared another layer, a thick brown gel covering the joint. "Now even ants can't crawl in."
The two exchanged a glance, and Chen Hao grinned: "One more time?"
Nana nodded. She pressed the start button, the green light came on, and the voltage reading slowly rose. A slight hum came from the solar panel, and current began to flow into the battery pack.
"Done?" Chen Hao took half a step forward.
Before he could finish speaking, a burst of sparks suddenly erupted from the positive terminal of the battery pack. The flames shot up and ignited a dry cloth nearby, sending black smoke billowing half a meter high.
"Damn it!" Chen Hao grabbed the sand bucket at his feet and rushed over, overturning it. The sand did spill out, but at the wrong angle; half of it landed on the equipment's casing, and the other half fell to the ground. He was choked by the smoke, bent over, coughed twice, and couldn't even open his eyes.
"The fire source is not covered." Nana's voice was unusually calm. "Get out of the way."
She turned and walked to the goat milk separator, connecting the robotic arm to the control valve. A few seconds later, the spray nozzle hissed, and high-pressure water mist sprayed out, precisely covering the area on fire. Three seconds later, the fire was extinguished. Only a wisp of white smoke remained, drifting from the bottom of the equipment.
Chen Hao was still coughing, one hand on his knee and the other waving away cigarette smoke: "You should have done this sooner... cough cough... you almost turned me into a piece of cured meat."
“There was no fire emergency plan before.” Nana retracted the robotic arm. “The system has now been updated with emergency protocols.”
"You even know how to update?" He straightened up, patted the dust off his clothes, and noticed a burn hole in the cuff. "Damn it, I bought this when I was at my thinnest."
“Damaged clothing doesn’t affect functionality.” Nana walked back to the main control panel. “But the circuitry needs to be retested.”
A bunch of warning lights were on the panel. Overheating, chip read/write errors, controller logic malfunction. Chen Hao stared at them for a long time, but couldn't recognize a single word.
"What do we do now?" he asked.
"Slow cooling, then low voltage activation." Nana pulled up the flowchart. "You're in charge of adjusting the transformer output, and I'll monitor the internal status."
"I don't understand electricity."
"Do as I say."
Chen Hao sighed and gripped the voltage adjustment knob. Nana called out a number, and he turned it a little, his movements as slow as unscrewing a bottle cap. The voltage slowly rose from 0.5 volts to 1.2, then to 2.4. With each increase, several more lights on the main control screen illuminated.
When the voltage reached 3.6 volts, the green light finally stayed on.
"System restored," Nana said.
"Hey." Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief and slumped into his chair. "I thought I was going to have to switch careers and sell barbecue skewers."
"The energy management agreement needs to be updated accordingly." Nana has already started the process: "Set solar power priority, intelligent battery replenishment, and add overload warning."
"Set it however you like," he waved his hand. "Just make sure it doesn't smoke anymore."
A few minutes later, the new program loaded. The drip pump started, the temperature control light came on, and the milking machine began to work rhythmically. One piece of equipment after another started operating throughout the facility, their sounds blending together.
Hearing the noise, Chen Hao suddenly laughed: "Now I can really sleep in."
“Human resources can be reduced by 62 percent,” Nana said.
"I knew you could calculate this."
"This is an objective result."
"Can't you say something more polite? Like 'You've worked hard' or 'Take a rest'?"
"No such dialogue template found".
"Apply for a new one".
"Insufficient priority".
Chen Hao rolled his eyes, too lazy to argue. He stood up, walked around the battery pack to make sure there were no more leaks. Then he looked up at the solar panel array on the roof, the sunlight reflecting off it.
"How long can our system last?" he asked.
"Theoretically, it can run at full load for 72 hours," Nana replied. "The actual range depends on the light intensity and load variations."
"That means it can last for three days."
"Provided there are no unexpected malfunctions."
"Can't you just give me a straight answer?"
"I only provide accurate information."
Chen Hao shook his head and sat back down at the control panel. All the data on the screen was stable: temperature, voltage, and overall performance were consistent. As he looked at the screen, his eyelids grew heavy.
“I’m going to take a nap,” he said. “If it catches fire again, remember to splash water on me.”
"Extinguishing fires takes priority over waking users."
"You really don't show any mercy."
He closed his eyes and started snoring within two minutes.
Nana stood still, her optical mirror scanning the system's operating status. Suddenly, her robotic arm moved slightly, pointing towards the bottom of the battery pack.
There was a patch of honey-coated paint with a raised edge, and tiny cracks were spreading. A drop of liquid slowly seeped out, moving down the metal casing.
When the drop of liquid was still twenty centimeters away from Chen Hao's shoe tip, it fell and hit the ground with a soft "plop".
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