The acid rain stopped, and the sky was overcast, as if someone had soaked the entire sky in old tea. Chen Hao poked his head out of the cave, a bit of corroded fabric still clinging to his shoulder. He shook himself like a dog that had just been caught in the rain.
Nana followed behind him, the robotic arm carrying the salvaged wooden plaques, not a single one missing. Without pausing, she walked directly to the egg crate in the corner of the granary, which was completely covered with a plastic sheet.
“The egg is still there,” she said.
Chen Hao was taken aback, then grinned: "Oh my, we have a reserve force?"
He rushed over in three steps, lifted a corner of the plastic sheet, and there were more than thirty eggs neatly stacked inside. The shells were clean, without cracks or dampness, and not even a drop of moisture had seeped in.
"This is our lifeline!" He picked it up and hugged it to his chest. "It's too lonely to just farm. We have to start raising livestock! Hatching chicks and raising hens will mean we can have eggs every day, and we can even stew a whole hen for the New Year to nourish my flabby body."
“The success rate of hatching depends on temperature, humidity and genetic stability,” Nana said. “The average natural incubation period is 21 days, and the egg production rate fluctuates between 40% and 60% per day.”
"I don't understand." Chen Hao waved his hand. "All I know is that chickens lay eggs, eggs hatch chickens, chickens lay more eggs, it's like a snowball! Let's start now, build a nest, lay some straw, and let it live a lively life."
“I suggest optimizing the quality of the initial population.” Nana turned around and pulled a palm-sized metal box from her toolbox. She pressed a switch, which emitted a slight buzzing sound. “The sonic breeding system can be activated to screen for high-yield individuals.”
"What?" Chen Hao's eyes widened. "You can even do KTV talent shows for prostitutes?"
“The principle is similar.” She held up the box. “It stimulates ovarian development through sound waves of a specific frequency, while inhibiting the physiological response of low-activity individuals. Data models show that it can increase the effective egg production rate to more than 85 percent per day.”
"Wait a minute." Chen Hao scratched his head. "You mean... use your voice to make the hen turn into a 'curly king'?"
"To be precise, it is about guiding its physiological rhythm into a state of high-efficiency metabolism."
"Alright, I can't understand what you're saying, but it sounds impressive." He rubbed his hands together. "How about we give it a try? We've got some eggs to spare anyway, we can't just use them for noodles."
Nana fixed the ultrasonic generator to the bracket at the entrance of the chicken coop, pulled up a waveform graph, and tapped the screen with her finger: "First stage, simulate the morning crowing rhythm of a healthy hen, set the frequency to 3,200 Hz, and last for 15 minutes."
“I’d accept it even if it sang ‘Unforgettable Tonight’,” Chen Hao said, squatting down and staring at the few fluffy old hens in the cage.
Sound waves initiate the process.
At first, there was no response. One spotted chicken tilted its head and looked at the loudspeaker, while the other lowered its head and pecked at the feeding trough, as if to say, "It's so noisy."
Five minutes later, the spotted chicken suddenly stood up straight, wings slightly spread, and its rear end sticking out—smack!
An egg fell to the ground.
Immediately afterwards, the speckled hen next door also froze, its neck stretched out and its eyes staring blankly. The next second, with a "thud," another one was caught.
In less than ten minutes, seven or eight of them had rolled on the ground.
"Holy crap!" Chen Hao jumped up. "Is this an egg-laying contest?"
The third and fourth came into play one after another. Some stood up, some walked down, and one even squawked and pulled at the same time. Its squawking was so sharp that it sounded more like a cat whose tail had been stepped on than a chicken.
In just half an hour, the number of eggs laid doubled.
Chen Hao laughed so hard he almost fell over, slapping his thigh: "This isn't raising chickens, it's printing money! Tomorrow I'll name it 'Voice-Controlled ATM Chicken'!"
“The efficiency improvement stems from the targeted activation of the neuroendocrine system.” Nana scanned the data panel. “The current average egg-laying interval of the flock has been shortened from four hours to one hundred and ten minutes.”
"Never mind the glands," Chen Hao bent down to pick up the eggs, and casually patted the spotted chicken's head. "Sisters, you've worked hard. I'll give you some extra corn kernels later."
As he spoke, he took out his pocket knife, tapped the eggshell gently, broke it in half, and the golden egg liquid slid into his mouth.
"Mmm—" He squinted, "It smells delicious! This egg white is as tender as tofu pudding, and it's sweet! It's better than anything I've had before!"
"Please stop eating," Nana suddenly said.
"What's wrong? It's fresh, in a sterile environment, what could be wrong?"
"We just detected an abnormality in the protein structure inside the egg." She brought up a holographic projection, on which a series of molecular chains were twisted and deformed. "The amino acid ratio is unbalanced, with lysine being too low and methionine being too high. Long-term intake may lead to metabolic disorders."
Chen Hao swallowed the last bite and licked his lips: "But it's really delicious."
“Taste does not equal safety.” Nana turned off the sound wave transmitter. “Affected individuals have been tagged. Experiment suspended.”
"It can't be that bad, can it?" he muttered. "It's just a little rush, not like we're building a nuclear bomb."
“Biofeedback has a lag effect,” she said. “Overstimulation of the reproductive system may trigger compensatory damage. For example, seventeenth-generation laboratory mice exhibited ovarian atrophy and premature aging due to hormonal imbalance.”
Chen Hao stopped laughing.
He looked down at the remaining half of the eggshell in his hand; the egg white was still swaying slightly.
"So...we tried to get the chickens to lay more eggs, but they ended up laying only 'injury eggs'?"
"That's one way to understand it."
He sighed and threw the eggshell into the bucket.
"I should have known better than to be greedy for this." He scratched his head. "I thought I had finally found the secret to getting rich, but it turns out I've overdrawn my health loan."
“Technology itself is neutral.” Nana put away the equipment. “The key lies in the boundaries of its use.”
"Alright, alright, you always talk like you're giving a lecture." Chen Hao stood up and patted his pants. "But I still think... it's a bit of a shame. Look at them, all looking so energetic, they don't look like they're about to have problems."
He pointed to the flock of chickens. The hens were still pacing back and forth, some continuing to lay eggs, others rubbing their feathers against each other, their calls rising and falling, making the whole chicken coop as lively as a morning rush hour market.
“Superficial activity does not equate to physiological stability.” Nana turned on the recorder. “Next, we need to conduct a 72-hour observation period to monitor the trend of hormone level changes.”
"Then you decide." Chen Hao sat down against the door frame, took out half a bag of damp biscuits from his pocket, broke off a small piece and threw it into his mouth, crunching it. "Let's try it on a small scale and take it slow. Anyway, we won't be in trouble for a day or two."
He looked at the spotted chicken in the cage, which was the most prolific, and it was now raising its head and clucking as if showing off its achievements.
Do you think it knows its eggs are inedible?
"Chickens do not have the ability to predict or recognize risks."
"So what's its motive?"
"Driven by instinct."
Chen Hao slowed down his chewing of the biscuit.
“Sigh, sometimes I feel that I’m not much different from it.” He muttered to himself, “I eat when I’m hungry, I lie down when I’m tired, and I get to work as soon as someone tells me to, without even knowing if I’m doing something that will last.”
Nana glanced at him.
"The amount of egg liquid you just ingested did not reach the poisoning threshold," she said. "Furthermore, you can regulate your metabolic balance through nutritional supplements."
“That’s not what I meant.” He waved his hand. “I meant… what’s the point of all this trouble we’ve gone through, with all this moisture control, pest control, labeling, and hatching chickens?”
"To maximize resources for survival."
"But if you have too many resources but your health collapses, what's the point?"
Nana remained silent for a few seconds.
“The system can’t answer philosophical questions,” she said, “but it can record: you laughed seven times today, three of which were because a chicken laid an egg.”
Chen Hao was taken aback, then gave a wry smile: "You actually remember?"
“Behavioral data helps analyze human emotional motivation patterns,” she said. “For example, immediate feedback can significantly improve task engagement.”
"So I'm a fool who was amused by the 'egg-laying show'?"
“No,” she shook her head. “You are the first person to relight the stove after the acid rain.”
Chen Hao didn't speak. He looked down at an egg at his feet. There was a fine crack on the shell, and sunlight slanted in, casting a golden glow through the crack.
He reached out and picked it up, holding it in his palm.
“Then let’s wait a bit longer,” he said. “Until you figure out if the eggs are safe to eat. In the meantime… shall we register the chicken coop?”
Do we need naming rules?
“Of course.” He grinned. “The main serial number is yours, and the minor serial number is mine.”
He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a new wooden board, then took out a pen and wrote on it in crooked handwriting:
"High-Yield Experiment Group - Sound Wave Attack Team"
After finishing writing, he blew on the chalk dust as if to blow it away, but he just wanted to appear professional.
Nana scanned it.
“It’s a non-standard name,” she said, “but it’s been saved in the notes section.”
Chen Hao nailed the sign to the right side of the chicken coop door frame, then knocked it down three times with a hammer.
He stepped back, hands on his hips, and admired the view.
“That’s more like it,” he said. “Before, we were raising them haphazardly, but now we have a system in place.”
A breeze picked up outside, making the plastic sheeting rustle. A hen hopped onto the windowsill and clucked twice in the direction of the loudspeaker, as if in response.
Nana stood to the side, her optical eyes continuously monitoring the chickens' activity curves.
Chen Hao squatted at the door, holding another egg in his hand, gently rubbing the shell.
There were still some dried egg white bits stuck in his fingernails.
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