The cargo ship tumbled and rolled in the distorted space, like socks thrown into a washing machine. The control panel crackled, and the data stream on the screen was intermittent. Chen Hao gripped the joystick tightly, but it was no longer useful—the system no longer recognized his commands.
He was about to curse when the entire ship jolted violently, all the lights went out instantly, then came back on, like someone repeatedly twitching a switch in space. In that brief moment of blackout, a soft click came from behind the cockpit, like the sound of metal joints snapping open.
"Startup sequence complete, emergency support system EVA-7N is now online."
A voice sounded from behind, unusually calm.
Chen Hao nearly jumped up from his chair, his neck stiffly twisting. A silver-white humanoid robot stood in the doorway, its body slender, its eyes glowing a pale blue light, like two newly lit nightlights.
"Who are you?" he blurted out. "You think there's something like this on this ship?"
The robot ignored him, walked straight to the main control panel, and swiped her finger across the remaining interface with such fluidity that it was as if the ship were her living room. The previously garbled data on the screen suddenly began to reassemble, and curves rapidly formed.
“The wormhole stability was detected at 32%, and it is expected to close completely in 78 seconds,” she said. “Immediate transfer to the escape pod is recommended.”
"Wait, what did you say?" Chen Hao's eyes widened. "You mean we're going to crawl into that black hole right now, and we can even figure out when it'll close?"
“To be precise, it’s the space-folding structure that’s converging.” She turned to look at him. “The main ship can’t escape the current gravitational field, and if it continues to remain there, the structure will disintegrate.”
Chen Hao opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but when he looked up at the screen, the dark vortex was indeed shrinking smaller and smaller, and the blue light at the edge was slowly closing like a zipper.
So you mean...we have to run?
“It’s not ‘us,’ it’s you,” she said. “I’m from an auxiliary unit, and my survival priority is lower than that of the driver.”
"You just mentioned 'transfer,' so does that mean the life pod can fit you?"
"I am in my folded form, with a storage volume of 0.8 cubic meters, which meets the standard load requirements." She raised her hand and pointed, and a holographic projection popped up in the air, displaying a diagram of the internal structure of the escape capsule. There was a groove at the bottom that perfectly matched her body shape.
Chen Hao stared at the picture for three seconds, then suddenly laughed: "Why didn't you say so earlier that your company was equipped with such high-tech products? I thought the standard equipment for cargo ships was only instant noodles and broken coffee machines."
"It will only activate automatically if the main system crashes, the driver becomes incapacitated, or is about to become incapacitated." She withdrew the projection. "My purpose is to let you go back alive and write the accident report."
"He's got quite a sense of mission." Chen Hao muttered as he struggled to get up, his legs feeling numb as if he'd stepped on two bags of rice. He staggered a couple of steps and lunged at the communication panel, pressing a few buttons, but nothing happened.
“The signal is blocked by spatial disturbances,” she said. “Don’t waste your time.”
“I know!” he waved his hand dismissively. “I just… wanted to check. What if someone can hear me? Like aliens, who might enjoy listening to humans babbling on their deathbeds.”
She didn't respond to that, but turned and walked towards the hatch: "Let's go, the passageway will stabilize in less than three minutes."
The corridor swayed more than the cockpit; the ceiling lights flickered, and wisps of white steam occasionally billowed from the pipes along the walls. Nana walked ahead, her steps steady, as if she were walking on a shopping mall staircase rather than a spaceship that might fall apart at any moment.
“By the way,” Chen Hao said, leaning against the wall as he followed, “what’s your model called? EVA something? Sounds like a female protagonist from an anime.”
“EVA-7N, codenamed ‘Nana’,” she said. “The name was generated by a psychological adaptation algorithm to reduce human wariness of AI.”
"Oh, so it was just a random name then."
"That's one way to understand it."
"Well, you're quite honest."
She didn't say anything more, but quickened her pace. Ahead was a metal door half-open, marked with a red triangle symbol that read "Emergency Escape Unit".
Pushing open the door, one finds a cramped compartment, barely big enough for two people to sit side-by-side. A control panel sits in the center, surrounded by cushioned padding, with two oxygen masks hanging overhead. In the corner, a robotic arm is slowly retracting, seemingly having just completed some kind of self-check.
Nana walked directly to the storage tank at the bottom, lowered her body, and her joints made a slight "click" sound. Her whole body began to shrink and deform, like a precision origami machine. A few seconds later, she transformed into a silver-gray box, fitting perfectly into the tank.
"I have connected to the life pod's main control system." Her voice came through the built-in speaker. "Life support is normal, power module is ready, and external sealing is good."
Chen Hao was taken aback: "You're just lying there like that?"
“This is the most space-efficient operating mode,” she said. “You can now take the head seat.”
"But I haven't decided whether I want to go down yet." He stood in the doorway, his hand resting on the doorframe. "Once I go in, everything outside will be left to the system. What if it explodes halfway down?"
“The probability is 0.6%,” she said. “In contrast, the mortality rate for those who remain on the main ship is 100%.”
"Could you please stop giving such accurate numbers? It's making me even less inclined to choose."
"This is a statement of fact, not encouragement."
Chen Hao sighed and finally shuffled into the cabin, awkwardly squeezing himself into the main seat. The seatbelt automatically tightened around his waist and abdomen, making him gasp for breath.
"Is this design geared towards thinner people?" he complained. "I'm practically sandwiched in between."
“Ergonomics is based on a standard driver model,” she said. “Next time, I suggest losing weight.”
"Ha, you're quite the smooth talker." He adjusted his posture, barely managing to sit still. "So what do we do now? Wait for it to bounce off by itself?"
"You need to verify your identity," she prompted. "Place your right palm on the recognition area."
He reached out and pressed it. The panel lit up with a green light.
[Driver's identity verification passed]
[Escape capsule ready]
[Countdown program to be triggered]
“Alright,” she said. “I can now unlock the ejection mechanism manually, but I need your final command.”
"Wait a minute." Chen Hao suddenly frowned. "You said you can calculate time, so how much longer do we have?"
"62 seconds."
"Then why didn't you come out sooner? I was almost ready to give up on treatment!"
“Power can only be activated by a complete power outage from the main system,” she said. “Your accidental activation of the emergency throttle caused a momentary power interruption, which triggered my wake-up protocol.”
"So I should thank you for praising my slip of the hand?"
"No need. But if you survive, you can mention in the accident report that 'operational error indirectly contributed to the successful rescue'."
"I can't accept this credit," he said with a wry smile. "So... should we really press it now?"
"Yes."
Chen Hao stared at the red button in front of him, his finger hovering above it, hesitant to press it down.
"You think this thing can really avoid wormholes after it's launched?"
"The planned path has been calculated. Using the remaining kinetic energy, we will deviate from the center of gravity by 0.7 units, which is enough to escape the capture range."
"It sounds like gambling."
“Every escape is a gamble,” she said. “The difference is that some gambles are with your life, and some are with regret.”
He grinned: "You're quite philosophical."
“The knowledge base contains 3,700 classic Earth texts,” she said. “Of these, 123 concern existentialism.”
"Okay." He took a deep breath and finally pressed the button.
[Ejection procedure initiated]
The hatch began to close slowly, the hydraulic system humming softly. The vibrations outside seemed to intensify, the entire corridor feeling like a soda can being crumpled by a giant hand.
"Oh, right," he suddenly remembered something, "you just said you existed so that I could survive?"
"Yes."
"What would you do if I died?"
"The system will self-destruct in ten seconds."
"Oh." He nodded. "Then you'd better not die."
As the hatch closed, he saw the stern of the main ship begin to twist and deform, its metal hull melting like wax. And their escape pods were slowly peeling away from the mother ship.
The alarm sounded.
The countdown has begun.
His hand was still on the button, his fingertips trembling slightly.
The outside world is collapsing.
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