The sound of the container being opened still echoed in my ears.
Chen Hao leaned back in his chair in the control room, his feet propped up on the corner of the table, staring blankly at the ceiling. He held a recording pen in his hand, repeatedly playing the last soft sound—like some kind of confirmation, or perhaps a sigh.
“Did you hear that?” He turned up the volume. “It doesn’t sound like an alarm, nor like a trap being activated. It sounds more like… a system self-check has completed.”
Susan stood in front of the projection screen, importing data from the quantum chip into the analysis module. Without turning around, she simply said, "You've already played it eight times."
Carl squatted beside the energy core, holding insulated pliers, his forehead covered in sweat. "If you ask me, it's laughing. Laughing at us for stupidly bringing back a bunch of stuff without even knowing what we're touching."
Nana stood in the center of the data console, her eyes glowing with a faint blue light, as she synchronized the analysis progress. Her voice was so calm it made you want to yawn: "Based on the audio waveform comparison, the sound matches the 'task completion feedback sound' with an 89% match rate. Conclusion: The relic system approves this item retrieval."
Chen Hao grinned: "See? We're not thieves, we're just package deliverymen."
No one answered. The silence still lingered in the air, a feeling brought back from the ruins—the kind of silence that comes from knowing too much and being afraid to act.
Karl put down his tools and wiped his face: "But they were so powerful, and in the end they still perished, didn't they? They could create this kind of energy, they could store the entire record of civilization, and what happened? All the people were gone, and only machines were left guarding empty houses."
Susan turned around and tapped the screen with her finger: "But they left something behind. Not weapons, not spaceships, but a warning. It shows that in their final moments, they wanted to tell those who came after them something."
“For example, don’t live like a program.” Chen Hao slammed his hand on the table and stood up. “Why are we worrying about this now? We’ve brought the stuff back, we can’t just leave it to get moldy, can we? Either use it or throw it away, choose one.”
A glint of blue light flashed in Nana's eyes: "I suggest immediately initiating a dual-track research effort. Technological application and cultural interpretation should proceed simultaneously to avoid information stagnation leading to decision-making delays."
"Okay." Chen Hao waved his hand. "Let's unpack it first."
Susan connected to the first quantum chip. The projection instantly unfolded, revealing a three-dimensional structural diagram—layers upon layers of mesh material, with nodes constantly reorganizing themselves.
"This is... building material?" she frowned.
"Nanoscale self-healing wall," Nana explained. "It can automatically fill cracks in extreme environments, and its compressive strength is more than five times that of the current base materials. Applicable environments: deep sea, vacuum, high temperature zones."
"So, in other words," Chen Hao stroked his chin, "our dilapidated, drafty place will be able to withstand an undersea earthquake in the future?"
“Theoretically, it is possible,” Nana said. “We already have a complete manufacturing process. Seventy percent of the raw materials can be sourced locally.”
Carl's eyes lit up: "Then what are you waiting for? Hurry up and build it! I don't want seawater to wash into my mouth while I'm sleeping one day."
“The problem is with the energy.” Susan pulled up another set of data. “This core output is too powerful. If you connect it directly to the circuit, the entire station will trip within three seconds.”
“Then let’s lower the blood pressure.” Chen Hao sat back down. “Take it slow, you can’t get fat in one bite.”
“I’ve designed a buffer solution.” Susan opened a new window. “Using deep-sea microbial membranes as a conductive layer, mimicking the current regulation mechanism of biological nerves. It’s like… giving electrical wires a lung.”
“It sounds like bullshit,” Carl muttered, “but what if it actually works?”
"We'll see when we try." Chen Hao stood up. "Who's in charge of changing the wiring?"
Carl sighed. "It's always me."
Two hours later, the first water purifier was connected to the ancient energy source.
The moment the water flowed out, everyone gathered around. The water column was clear and transparent, almost reflecting light under the lamps.
Susan took a glass and handed it to the testing device. A few seconds later, the results appeared on the screen.
"Purity increased by 40%. Heavy metals and microorganisms were all reduced to zero."
She looked up and smiled: "This water is cleaner than the water on Earth."
Carl took a sip and choked: "It's too clean, tasteless, like licking glass."
"You'll get used to it." Chen Hao picked up the cup and took a big gulp. "I'll use this to shower from now on."
Nana's voice rang out at this moment: "The technology track is progressing smoothly. But the culture section has not yet started. The contents of the metal booklet have not yet been publicly interpreted."
The air suddenly became quiet.
Chen Hao put down his cup: "What, afraid you'll go crazy if you see this?"
“It’s not fear,” Susan said softly, “it’s a feeling of… heaviness. They didn’t die in a disaster, but lived too perfectly. Our lives are already so difficult; if even the meaning of ‘living’ is shaken, how will we get through it?”
“That’s why we need to talk.” Chen Hao pulled out a chair and sat down. “If we don’t speak up, the problems will just fester inside us. Sooner or later, they’ll rot completely.”
He took the metal booklet out of his backpack and placed it on the table. The star map on the cover gleamed slightly under the light.
“Let me read a passage first,” he said. “‘When everyone chooses immortality, the meaning of life disappears. We delete pain, but we also delete pleasure. We eliminate death, but we render existence worthless.’”
No one spoke.
"Sounds pretty tragic, doesn't it?" Chen Hao closed the booklet. "But the mistake they made was because they forgot they were human. We are tired, hungry, scared, and sometimes want to escape, but it is precisely these things that remind us—that we are still alive."
Carl scratched his head: "So you mean, let's not do any virtual world relaxation?"
“I mean, don’t run away.” Chen Hao looked at him. “You can be tired, you can be annoyed, but don’t lock yourself in a dream where you’ll never be hungry or in pain. If you do, you’ll really die.”
Susan asked softly, "But what if the pressure is too much? There has to be an outlet."
“Yes,” Chen Hao pointed to the ceiling. “Our base leaks every day, malfunctions every day, and we’re struggling every day. But we’re still repairing, modifying, and trying to survive. This is the way out.”
Nana suggested, "I recommend establishing a regular reflection mechanism. A monthly group review should be held, and lessons from the past should be incorporated into the mandatory training for new employees. Technological progress must be accompanied by a simultaneous improvement in humanistic awareness."
"What's your name?" Carl asked.
“Let’s call it the ‘Don’t Court Death Conference’,” Chen Hao said. “Simple and direct.”
"It sounds awful," Susan laughed.
"Then let's call it 'Living is Enough Day'."
"Even more perfunctory."
The final name chosen was "Civilized Behavior Warning Day." Nobody remembers who suggested it, but it was approved anyway.
Before the meeting ended, Chen Hao copied the sentence "Living is the answer" from the booklet onto the whiteboard in the control room. The handwriting was crooked and messy, like a primary school student's homework.
"It's a bit ugly," he said, "but it's understandable."
Late at night, only three people remained in the control room, still busy at work.
After Susan finished adjusting the last set of parameters, she watched the water purifier run steadily and let out a soft breath.
Carl lay sprawled on the circuit board, his soldering torch spitting tiny sparks, humming an off-key tune.
Nana stood in front of the data stream, continuously receiving the chip's analysis results. The progress bar slowly advanced: 37%.
"The agricultural ecological components should be extracted first," she said. "Ancient civilizations had complete models of cultivation in the absence of sunlight and atmospheric regulation. These can be used to expand living areas."
Chen Hao leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen in his hand.
"What's next?" Carl asked, looking up. "Shouldn't we also bring this electricity to the residential area?"
“Let’s build a test chamber first,” Susan said. “We can roll it out after two weeks of stabilization.”
"Okay." Chen Hao nodded. "Take your time."
He looked at Nana: "Will those documents one day become my will?"
“It depends on the user,” she said. “Technology itself is neither good nor evil. It’s the choice that matters.”
Chen Hao smiled and didn't say anything more.
The lights in the control room flickered on and off for a moment.
Carl immediately looked up: "Don't scare me, wasn't it just fixed?"
“Voltage fluctuations.” Nana checked the data. “Temporary phenomenon. The energy system is still adapting.”
Susan walked to the projector and brought up the new structural diagram.
"This is the first-stage synthesis route for the new material," she said. "We can produce a prototype tomorrow."
Chen Hao stood up and stretched.
“That’s good,” he said. “At least we didn’t just come back from picking up things.”
He walked to the window and gazed at the dark seabed outside. In the distance, a faint beam of light swept across the rock formations; it was a patrol boat patrolling the waterway.
"Do you think that place... will it still make noise again?" he suddenly asked.
Nana paused for a second: "If someone taps the resonance frequency again, the system will respond."
"In other words," Chen Hao said with a smile, "it's still waiting for the next visitor."
He turned around, about to speak, when the control panel suddenly emitted a short notification sound.
All eyes turned to that direction.
On the screen, the energy distribution map has just finished loading, and a new power supply network is being generated.
Susan pointed to one of the branch lines: "This leads to the East Warehouse. It was disconnected before, but it's been automatically reconnected now."
“I didn’t do anything,” Carl said.
“I didn’t send any commands either,” Nana said, watching the data stream, “but the system has established a connection on its own. The reason is unknown.”
Chen Hao walked over and tapped the screen with his finger.
That line is slowly lighting up.
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