The static from the loudspeaker still echoed in the corridor, and Chen Hao stood still. Nana turned her camera to him, waiting for him to speak.
He raised his hand and touched his ear, as if trying to dig that crackling sound out of his brain. "That last sentence, never mind," he said. "Dreaming for too long can cause an electric shock."
Nana didn't reply, but simply recorded the broadcast system malfunction in the log.
Chen Hao turned and walked towards the main control area, his pace slower than before. The corridor lights were steady, and the thermometer on the wall showed exactly 18 degrees Celsius. He passed his room; the door was ajar, and inside lay a pile of winter clothes that hadn't been fully packed away. He glanced at it but didn't go in.
He sat down at the control panel and tapped his fingers twice on the table. The screen was still showing the previous screen—a report indicating that supplies had been organized. He clicked exit and brought up the terrain heatmap.
“Alright,” he said. “Spring isn’t something you think about, it’s something you create with your feet. But first, we need to know where to step.”
Nana walked to the main control screen and slightly adjusted the angle of the optical lens. "The current environment is still in the remnants of winter. The ground is thawing unevenly, and there is a risk of water accumulation in some areas. It is recommended that the scope of the first outdoor activity be limited to a safe radius."
"Five kilometers?" Chen Hao asked.
“A radius of three kilometers is safer.” She unfolded the map. “The grassland area surrounding the old farm in the southeast is the preferred area. It has complete vegetation cover, no history of landslides, and plenty of sunshine.”
"Sounds like a travel ad." Chen Hao grinned. "This is the place. We can't go looking for thrills by venturing into a landslide area on our first trip out."
“The system does not support risky behavior,” Nana said.
“I know you’ll warn me about electrolyte imbalance even if I drink half a glass of water too much.” He rested his chin on his hand and looked at the screen. “But… since we’re going out, we can’t just go for a quick trip and come back empty-handed. It has to be something meaningful.”
"you mean?"
“I said I needed some fresh air, you said I needed to collect data.” He turned to face her. “Can we come up with a compromise? Like—a task check-in system?”
Nana accessed the task template library. "You can set target-type activities. For example, sample collection, environmental recording, and route surveying."
"Don't be so rigid." Chen Hao waved his hand. "It sounds like going to work. What I want is to find the first flowering plant, listen to three different bird calls, and take a picture of the strangest landscape."
Nana paused for a second before beginning to analyze the feasibility. "All three tasks can achieve basic ecological observation functions. They also have the characteristics of low participation threshold and high interest, which meets the psychological adjustment needs of the group."
“That’s right.” He slammed his hand on the table. “This is called working easy and pretending to have fun. Nobody loses out.”
She entered the three tasks into the system and marked them as "light adventure mode". "Is a group mechanism needed? I suggest three people per group to ensure a balance between safety and efficiency."
“Okay.” Chen Hao nodded. “Let’s add a bit of ceremony. Give everyone a badge before we set off, to signify the official restart of our outdoor life.”
"What's the badge made of?" Nana asked.
“Any scrap circuit board will do,” he said. “Cut it into small pieces, punch a hole in it, and hang a string on it. We’re dirt poor right now, so the more broken it is, the more meaningful it will be.”
“Idea recorded.” Nana updated the entry, “Handmade numbered badge, material source: stock electronic waste. Tools: metal shears, drill, nylon thread.”
“Perfect.” Chen Hao leaned back in his chair. “Now we have a title and work to do, and we can get everyone moving. People who have been cooped up for too long want to run a couple of laps as soon as they see an open space.”
"We need to be mindful of differences in physical fitness," Nana added. "We recommend that the activity duration not exceed four hours, including rest and replenishment time."
"Then we'll have two hours of hiking, one hour of free exploration, and half an hour for a group picnic," Chen Hao said, counting on his fingers. "We'll leave some buffer time in between so anyone who gets tired can rest; we won't force anyone."
“The pace is reasonable.” Nana generated a preliminary time model. “Based on the current daylight cycle and temperature changes, the best travel window is from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.
“The sun is strongest at noon, and people are most energetic then,” he laughed. “Whoever brings the pot will cook the noodles, and we’ll have a hot meal to celebrate that the earth has finally remembered it should warm up.”
"The Earth's laws of motion are not affected by human emotions," Nana said.
"But it definitely knows we're going crazy," Chen Hao shrugged. "Who can stand not seeing green leaves for three years?"
Nana didn't respond to that. Her camera panned across the draft plan on the screen, and she began to categorize the information.
Chen Hao stared at the document for a while, then suddenly frowned. "Wait, did we forget something?"
Please explain.
“The event is divided into three parts,” he said. “One is exploration, one is sports, and the other is… interaction.”
"The group activities have already been incorporated into the picnic portion."
“Not enough.” He shook his head. “We need something we can all do together, not eating or clocking in. It’s that feeling of—hey, we’re still alive together.
"For example?"
"Tug-of-war?" he asked tentatively.
Nana pulled up the relevant data. "Traditional team games help improve team cohesion. Tug-of-war requires moderate physical exertion, is safe, and has low venue requirements. It is suitable for playing on flat grass."
“Then it’s settled.” He laughed. “The losing team in the first competition of spring will have to do the dishes for a week.”
"It needs to be clarified whether the reward and punishment mechanism is feasible," Nana reminded. "Currently, dishwashing is still done manually, and the allocation of manpower needs to be coordinated."
"Just kidding," Chen Hao waved his hand. "The main thing is to make everyone laugh. It's been three years, and many people's faces are almost frozen."
Nana paused for a moment, and the optical lens flickered slightly. "We have listed 'group interaction' as one of the three pillars. We suggest adding non-competitive activity options, such as sitting in a circle to share, impromptu storytelling, and gesture relay, to reduce psychological pressure."
“Okay, more variety is good.” He nodded. “Some people don’t like competitions, but they might be willing to tell a joke. As long as they open their mouths, they’ve won.”
She continued to refine the framework. "Preliminary models have been established for the three components: nature exploration, outdoor activities, and group interactions. Should they be named?"
“Of course.” Chen Hao thought for a moment, “Let’s call it ‘Three Things to Do in Spring’.”
“The name is concise.” Nana confirmed, “The ‘Spring Event Preliminary Concept V1.0’ has been completed. It will enter the detailed stage after approval.”
The document was saved successfully, and a green checkmark appeared on the screen.
Chen Hao didn't close the page in a hurry. He looked at the words "Three Things to Do in Spring" and tapped the desktop a few more times with his fingers.
"What if it rains on the first day we go out?"
"The weather forecast indicates no precipitation for the next 72 hours," Nana replied. "And a backup plan is in place; the activity can be postponed or changed to an indoor simulation."
“I’m not really worried about the rain,” he said. “I’m afraid… people will go out and stand there, not knowing what to do, and not daring to laugh.”
“Adaptation takes time,” Nana said, “but the first step has been taken. The storage room is organized, the equipment is in place, and my mental readiness is increasing.”
"I hope so," he smiled. "I'm not afraid. I'll be the first one to rush into the mud and roll around in it."
"Based on your body mass index and joint load assessment, rolling around is not recommended."
Can't you let me fantasize for a little while?
"Yes," she said, "but caution is needed when implementing it."
He rolled his eyes, about to retort, when footsteps sounded outside the door. Someone was walking down the corridor, slowing down as they passed the control room door.
Then, a face peeked in.
"Are you talking about things outside?"
Chen Hao looked up and saw Old Li, who lived in the East District. He was carrying a pair of old hiking boots with the laces loose.
"I heard there's going to be an event?" Old Li asked. "Can I sign up?"
“Of course.” Chen Hao stood up. “As long as they are alive, we can report them.”
"Then... around when?"
"It's not decided yet," he said. "The plan has just been completed; the next step is preparation."
Old Li nodded and didn't leave. "I was just asking. These past few years, hearing the word 'go abroad' still makes my heart tighten."
“That’s normal,” Chen Hao said. “When the day actually comes, your legs might be shaking even more than yours.”
Old Li smiled, turned and left. Before closing the door, he said, "I'll come as long as it doesn't snow."
The room fell silent.
Chen Hao sat back down and looked at the plan document on the screen. Below the title were three lines of small print:
- Nature Exploration: Searching for Traces of Life's Revival
- Outdoor activities: Reconnecting the body with the earth
- Group Interaction: Rebuilding the Warmth Between People
Nana stood to the side, her optical lens flickering slightly, as if waiting for instructions.
"Do you think..." Chen Hao suddenly spoke up, "that we're sending an invitation to the future?"
Nana did not answer immediately.
Her voice was gentle: "The system cannot predict emotional responses. But data shows that since yesterday, the frequency of spontaneous conversations within the base has increased by 17 percent, and sleep quality has improved by an average of 0.6 hours."
“That’s how it is,” he said with a smile. “We all thought we were waiting for spring, but spring is actually waiting for us too.”
He tapped the screen and moved the document into the pending folder. The green checkmark disappeared, replaced by a yellow clock icon.
The printer buzzed the next second.
A piece of paper was slowly pushed out.
Chen Hao picked it up and glanced at it. It was printed with a summary of the "Three Things to Do in Spring" plan. The corner of the paper was still warm.
He clipped it to the edge of the console and held it in place with a rusty paperclip.
“Once it’s approved, we’ll post it on the bulletin board,” he said. “Let everyone see that we’re not just existing, but planning to live like human beings.”
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