The alarm only lasted for three seconds before stopping.
When the red light went out, Chen Hao was still standing there, holding a mop. He looked down at the floor; the water stains had been wiped clean, and a few gray marks remained where his shoes had left their mark.
“Wild animals,” Nana said. “They are similar in size to rabbits on Earth, and their heat source movement has deviated from the fence and is moving away.”
"You scared me!" Chen Hao put the mop against the wall. "I thought aliens were coming to check our garbage sorting."
Susan didn't laugh, but her shoulders relaxed slightly. Carl closed the monitor window, sat back in his chair, and tapped the table lightly with his knuckles.
“Let’s continue from where we left off.” Chen Hao pulled out a chair and sat down, taking out a notebook from his bag. The cover was crumpled, the edges were curled, and the pages were marked with red pen as if a dog had chewed them.
He turned to the middle page, cleared his throat, and said, "We've argued enough. Now it's time to get things moving."
Nana's optical module turned towards him, and the blue light stabilized.
"Divide it into sections first." Chen Hao tapped the notebook with his pen. "Work schedule, resources, behavior, supervision, special clauses. Five sections, seventeen articles."
He would say one item, and Nana would write it down. His voice was flat and even, without any inflection, like he was reciting a list of dishes.
"The fixed rest times are from 7:00 to 9:00, 12:00 to 1:00, and 18:00 to 20:00 every day. These times are not allowed to be used for non-urgent tasks."
Basic supplies are distributed per person, including food, water, and electricity. Additional resources are based on contribution points.
"Littering, damaging equipment, and misusing materials will result in a warning for the first offense and a 48-hour access ban for the second offense."
"Violation determinations require the joint opinion of two or more administrators. Nana is only responsible for recording and reporting to the police; she does not directly impose penalties."
"One day a month is a free exploration day, with no restrictions on the content and no check-in required. However, a 100-word summary must be submitted afterward to complete the task."
"If you encounter a life-saving situation, take action first and then provide explanations later; this is not considered a violation of the rules."
As soon as the words were spoken, the projector lit up. The title appeared: "Basic Operating Rules of the Base (Draft)".
The seventeen regulations are neatly arranged, each followed by a line of smaller print that reads, "Based on: Discussion Records of the 828 Meeting."
Susan stared at the screen for half a minute before speaking: "The third one, 'Contribution Points'."
"how?"
"It says 'calculated based on a weighted average of task risks and outcomes'."
"yes."
“What constitutes an achievement?” she said. “Who determines an achievement? Does the photo you took yesterday count as an achievement, or does Carl’s data analysis count?”
Chen Hao opened his mouth, "This... isn't there a points pool?"
“That’s the problem.” Susan leaned forward. “If points become the standard for measuring everything, everyone will choose tasks that are easy to generate data. Nobody wants to do the dirty work or the hard work.”
Carl nodded: "For example, cleaning the filter in the purification chamber takes three hours and produces no data. Does that count as a contribution?"
"It counts!" Chen Hao slammed his hand on the notebook. "Of course it counts! This kind of thing must be counted!"
“Then you need to change the clause,” Susan said. “The current clause is too vague and easy for people to exploit.”
Chen Hao turned to look at Nana: "Did you hear me? Change it."
Nana flashed a blue light: "Modification suggestion marked. Suggestion to add: Include routine maintenance tasks in the basic contribution list, which should be registered and confirmed daily by the rotating administrator."
"Add it." Chen Hao circled it in his notebook. "Just say—regular participation in public affairs maintenance will earn one basic point per day."
“There are also penalties.” Carl pointed to the fifth point, “If the ecological protection red line is triggered, access will be locked for 48 hours. Are there any exceptions?”
"What do you mean?"
“For example, when I’m moving equipment, I accidentally scratch the mycelium on the ground outside the fence,” Carl said. “It wasn’t intentional, but the system still alarms. Can the penalty be reduced in this situation?”
"That can't be right," Chen Hao scratched his head. "If everyone makes excuses, wouldn't the rules be rendered useless?"
“It’s not a question of whether to abolish it or not,” Susan interjected. “It’s a question of whether the system should retain a bit of humanity.”
The meeting room fell silent for a few seconds.
Chen Hao looked down at his notebook, and the tip of his pen poked a small hole in the paper.
“Okay,” he said. “Add one sentence: If a violation is caused without malicious intent, the penalty may be reduced or waived after deliberation by three or more rotating administrators.”
Nana immediately updated the document. A new line of text appeared below the fifth item on the screen.
"Next." Chen Hao turned the page. "The briefing for the Day of Freedom of Exploration."
“It has to be paid,” Susan said.
"Must?" Chen Hao looked up. "I said it's voluntary."
“Voluntary is no substitute for non-voluntary,” she said. “If it’s not mandatory, some people will just treat it as a holiday and sleep in. Even if you give them freedom, you have to give them some feedback.”
"I have something to say!" Chen Hao retorted. "Last time I went to the East District to collect samples, I found fluorescent veins on the roots of the night-blooming jasmine. What else could that be but inspiration?"
"So, did you write it?"
"...I forgot."
Susan sneered: "That's why we have to force people to leave a record."
Carl said, "I'll compromise. The briefing can be short, but it must be submitted. The system will archive it automatically, without scoring, just recording it."
“But we have to give people a chance to breathe,” Chen Hao insisted. “What if one day my mind goes blank and I can’t write a hundred words?”
“Writing ‘Nothing to show for today’ counts,” Susan said. “At least it proves you thought about it.”
"Doesn't this force people to fabricate evidence?"
"At least it's better than doing nothing." She looked at him. "You're the administrator; if you lead the way in not paying, what will others think?"
Chen Hao grinned: "I'm testing the flexibility of the system."
“The system isn’t for you to play around with,” she said.
The two stared at each other for a few seconds, neither backing down.
"Never mind." Chen Hao lowered his head and wrote in his notebook, "Let's not decide on this for now. Mark it 'Under Discussion'."
Nana automatically added a new page at the end of the document: [Items to be decided].
Article 1: Is the submission of the Free Exploration Day Briefing mandatory?
Article 2: Method for allocating maintenance responsibilities in public areas.
Article 3: Temporary Access Approval Process for Outsiders.
"That's all for now." Chen Hao closed his notebook. "Any other questions?"
Susan shook her head.
Carl flipped through two pages of the PDF, his finger stopping at the twelfth item: "The oversight mechanism states that Nana is responsible for recording the entire process."
"right."
“But she’s also part of the system,” Carl said. “What if the administrator breaks the rules themselves, like secretly using the centrifuge in the middle of the night and then deleting the logs?”
“It can’t be deleted,” Nana replied. “All operations are backed up independently, and the deletion action itself is recorded.”
“That’s true in theory,” Carl said. “But what if someone understands the underlying system and can bypass the verification?”
Chen Hao was stunned: "You really dare to think that way."
“I’m just saying it’s a possibility,” Carl said. “Even the most robust systems have loopholes.”
“Then let’s add an extra layer of security.” Chen Hao picked up his pen. “All operations of critical equipment must be performed with dual authentication. One person swiping their ID card is not enough; two people must be present at the same time.”
"Including administrators?" Susan asked.
“Especially administrators,” Chen Hao laughed. “I myself can’t have special privileges.”
Nana updated the document again. A new line was added at the end of section 12: **Activation of high-risk equipment requires confirmation from two authorized personnel.**
"Is there anything else?" Chen Hao looked around.
No one spoke.
The document on the projector has now been fully displayed. It consists of five chapters, seventeen main text sections, four explanatory notes, and three items pending discussion.
Below the title, a line of smaller print appeared: "Draft Rules V1.0".
"Nana," Chen Hao said, "Save this."
“Completed,” she said. “The file has been locked to read-only mode, allowing only comments and revision suggestions to be submitted.”
Chen Hao stretched, his shoulder making a cracking sound. He rubbed his neck and looked out the window.
The sky was getting darker. The clouds hung low, and the wind whistled through the metal facade.
"We're having a big meeting tomorrow," he said. "This version will be the basis for our discussions."
Susan put the notebook into her bag, stopping halfway through zipping it up.
"Are you really going to start by doing it yourself?"
"Otherwise what?" Chen Hao laughed. "He stayed up all night last night, so he's banned from the lab for twelve hours today. I've already set up a reminder."
Aren't you afraid people will think you're just putting on a show?
“I’m afraid,” he said. “But I’m even more afraid that the rules will become just a piece of paper.”
Carl scoffed: "At least you're more reliable now than you were last week."
"Thanks," Chen Hao rolled his eyes. "I thought you were going to praise my improvement."
“Progress is a fact,” Carl said, “but don’t expect me to affirm you every time.”
Nana suddenly spoke up: "A heat source has been detected again outside the west fence."
Everyone was stunned.
"Is it the same one as before?" Chen Hao asked.
“No,” Nana said. “It’s larger and moves faster. It’s about 180 meters from our current location and is moving in a southeast direction.”
The projection changes its view. In the infrared image, an orange-red dot of light moves slowly through the bushes, but its path is straight.
“It doesn’t look like an animal,” Susan said softly.
“It doesn’t seem like an accidental touch either.” Carl stood up. “It’s moving in a straight line.”
Chen Hao stared at the screen, his hand slowly tightening its grip on the pen.
“Nana,” he said, “check all external heat source records for the last three days.”
"Comparing them in progress."
The optical module flickers faster. The data stream scrolls.
Three seconds later, trajectory graphs of three time points pop up side by side on the screen.
The first one was at 2:07 PM today. It was a heat source the size of a rabbit that lingered outside the fence for twenty seconds before leaving.
The second one was at 11:46 pm last night, in the same location, at the same angle of movement.
The third one was at 3:22 AM the day before yesterday, along a route that almost overlapped.
“It wasn’t just once,” Nana said. “In the past 48 hours, a total of seven similar heat sources were recorded passing by the edge of the west fence. Each time, the heat source stayed for no more than 35 seconds.”
Silence fell over the meeting room.
Chen Hao looked down at his notebook, where the four characters "Freedom Exploration Day" written in red ink had been scratched by his fingernails.
He picked up his pen and wrote two words in the blank space beside him:
**track**.
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