Chen Hao pushed open the door; the conference room lights were already on. He didn't speak, but placed the data panel on the table; the screen was still showing the last frame from when the exercise was interrupted.
Susan followed behind, clutching a notebook. Carl limped last, his right leg stiff, his weight shifted to the left as he walked. Nana was the last to enter, the door closing softly.
"That fall just now wasn't an accident, it was inevitable," Chen Hao said, his back to them.
No one responded.
He swiped his finger, and the projector lit up, displaying a log screenshot divided into three sections: excessive smoke release, main control signal crosstalk, and personnel route deviation. The three red lines intersected, pointing to the same time point—3:17:48.
“We can handle each of these three problems individually,” Chen Hao said. “But if they all explode together, we have no choice but to call it a day.”
Carl sat in the chair and rubbed his knees: "The equipment broke down first, and my misstep was just a consequence."
Susan turned a page of her notebook: "But if you hadn't gone astray, you wouldn't have ended up in the ditch."
“I can’t see anything.” Carl looked up. “The smoke is too thick; I can’t even see the ground.”
Nana walked to the projector and brought up a new list. Five fault nodes were arranged in order, each followed by supporting data.
“The fault isn’t with people,” she said. “It’s at the system’s breakpoint.”
She selected the first option: high coupling of the main control program. The originally independent earthquake, flood, and strong wind modules were written as a linked sequence; one trigger causes a full-chain response. This is why the alarm switches to flood mode earlier.
The second issue is the poor adaptability of the sensor. The humidity sensor is affected by dew at night, misjudging the environment as dry and automatically increasing the smoke output.
The third point concerns personnel response. The average response time for the four personnel was 3.7 seconds, with 1.8 seconds spent on verifying the authenticity of the instructions.
The fourth issue is the lack of visual guidance on-site. There are no markings or directional signs, making it easy for people to lose their sense of direction in the confusion.
The fifth issue is the lack of flexibility in the contingency plans. Everyone waits for orders; no one makes proactive judgments.
“We rely too much on the word ‘start’,” Chen Hao chimed in. “But disasters don’t give commands.”
Susan closed her notebook: "So what about next time? Guessing?"
"It's not a guess," Chen Hao shook his head, "it's to practice reaction time."
“Now I’m asking you,” he suddenly turned to Karl, “if you were outside right now, and it suddenly got dark and the wind picked up, what would be the first thing you do?”
Carl was taken aback: "Find a place to hide?"
“It’s too slow,” Chen Hao said. “The wind hasn’t arrived yet, but the clouds are pressing down and there’s dust on the ground. These are signals. You need to move before it comes.”
Susan frowned: "But we can't just hide under the table every time we see leaves blowing in the wind, can we?"
“Therefore, there needs to be a tiered system,” Nana interjected. “I suggest establishing a three-tiered response mechanism. The first tier is automatically triggered by the system, the second tier is confirmed by manual broadcasting, and the third tier is guided by on-site hand signals. Three layers of protection will prevent misjudgment and loss of contact.”
Chen Hao nodded: "It's settled then."
The pace of the meeting quickened.
The problems can be divided into two categories: those that can be changed technically, and those that require human practice.
The technical aspects were handed over to Nana. She was to rewrite the control logic, separating the originally bundled modules into independent units. From now on, earthquakes would be earthquakes, and floods would be floods; neither would involve the other.
On-site signage also needs to be added. Fluorescent strips should be placed on the ground, and emergency symbols should be placed at key intersections, with uniform colors and fixed locations.
The training methods also need to change.
"The group competition starts tomorrow," Chen Hao said. "Two people per group, disaster cards will be randomly distributed, and we'll act it out on the spot. We won't go through the whole process, only the first five seconds of reaction will be tested."
Carl gave a wry smile: "You want to drive us to the brink of nervous breakdown."
“Nerve tension and neurasthenia are not the same thing.” Chen Hao looked at him. “One is about being alive, the other is about breaking down.”
Susan asked, "What about the rehearsal time? Will we be notified in advance like we are today?"
“No,” Chen Hao said. “Next time, I won’t tell you in advance what I’m going to be tested for, or when it will start.”
The room was quiet for a few seconds.
Carl leaned back in his chair and said, "You're launching a surprise attack."
“The real world is all about surprise attacks,” Chen Hao said. “You think you’re ready, but it’s just that it’s not your turn yet.”
Nana began typing in the new program structure. Code scrolled across the screen as she typed, simultaneously uploading it to the terminal for backup.
Susan and Carl took out paper and pens and began listing the training points. Susan was in charge of designing the disaster scenarios, while Carl drew a sketch of the site markings.
Time passed little by little.
The sky outside the window had darkened, and only the indicator lights on the projector and a few other devices were on inside.
Chen Hao stood by the table, holding a newly printed training schedule. He stared at the last line: "Random Trigger – No Announcement".
"Don't sleep too soundly tonight," he said.
Susan looked up: "Are you serious?"
“Of course.” Chen Hao handed her the paper. “It could be in the middle of the night, or it could be during lunch. I’ll start it whenever I feel the time is right.”
Carl sighed. "Then I'll have to put the shoes by the bed first."
“It’s not just about shoes,” Chen Hao said. “You have to keep your head up too.”
Nana closed the terminal and glanced at the time: 7:23 PM.
"The system reconstruction is expected to take six hours," she said. "A test link will be automatically pushed out upon completion."
"I want the signs installed by 8 a.m. tomorrow," Chen Hao said, looking at Karl.
“I’m working overtime tonight,” Carl shrugged. “I won’t be able to sleep well anyway.”
Susan tidied her notes and stood up: "I'll go reclassify the disaster cards and sort them by frequency of occurrence and difficulty of response."
"Don't make it too complicated," Chen Hao cautioned. "What we need is instinctive reaction, not a quiz competition."
“Understood,” she said. “We will only select the three most common combinations: earthquake + power outage, flood + communication disruption, and strong winds + injuries.”
Everyone packed their things.
Chen Hao didn't move. He stood beside the conference table, tapping his fingers on the surface.
“There’s one more thing,” he said.
The three stopped what they were doing.
“Today’s failure wasn’t because anyone did anything wrong,” he said, looking at them. “It’s because we thought the process would stop everything. But now we know it doesn’t.”
"So from now on, no one is allowed to wait for orders." He looked at each person one by one. "If you see something is wrong, take action first. I'll take the blame if you're wrong, but not taking action is a violation."
No one spoke.
After a few seconds, Nana nodded gently.
Susan clamped the notebook tighter.
Carl grinned: "Fine, I'm practically a pro at drills anyway."
Chen Hao finally sat down, opened a drawer, took out a red pen, and added a new item to the bottom of the list of questions hanging on the wall:
Sixth: Eliminate the mindset of waiting.
He drew a circle and flattened the entire list.
Meeting adjourned.
The four people got up and left the meeting room.
The corridor lights were dim and yellow, and the sound of footsteps gradually faded away.
Chen Hao was the last to come out and turned off the lights as he did so.
He stood at the door without leaving, and glanced back at the list on the wall.
The red lettering is clearly visible.
He took out his phone and turned on the timer.
A random time was set.
Scope: Within 24 hours.
Press Confirm.
Put the phone back in my pocket.
He turned and walked towards the duty room.
With his right hand in his pocket, his fingertips touched the edge of the phone screen that was still on.
A gust of wind blew in from the ventilation vent at the end of the corridor, causing a newly posted training schedule to flutter on the bulletin board.
The corner of the paper was flipped up, revealing a few words handwritten on the back:
**Ready at any time.**
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