The green lights inside the cabin flashed faintly, and a low-frequency humming sound came from the control panel.
"Awakening program initiated." Nana's voice rang out calmly, her blue eyes glowing like sparks rekindled. "Energy reserves remain at 82%, life support system is operating normally, and the external environment is stable."
Chen Hao blinked, letting out a muffled murmur. He was curled up in his sleeping bag, his limbs stiff and numb, as if he had been compressed into an entire season. A gentle breeze blew down from the vent above, carrying the dry scent of metal and fabric after drying.
He opened his eyes, and his vision was blurry for a few seconds before it focused.
The surroundings were still the familiar interior of the escape pod: gray-white alloy panels, scattered tool racks, and the airtight door leading to the desolate planet. Outside the window, the sky was pale, and dust and mist hung low in the air, making the world look like a faded old photograph.
"Finally awake..." He propped himself up, the zipper of his sleeping bag stuck on his chest, and he struggled to unzip it. "I slept so much, my bones are practically moldy."
Nana is fully activated, standing still. The optical lens has been slightly adjusted to lock onto Chen Hao's movements. "The dormant cycle has ended precisely without interruption. Ten minutes of basic physical activation training is recommended to alleviate muscle inertia."
"Training my ass." Chen Hao rubbed his temples, slipped on his shoes, walked to the locker, pulled out a bottle of water, and gulped it down. "Right now, I only want to do one thing—build up this lousy base."
He pushed open the hatch, and a blast of cold air hit him. Outside, piles of metal sheets gleamed matte in the morning light, scattered haphazardly among the rubble, like a mess left unattended.
"Let's start with moving building materials," he said, his tone revealing no hesitation, only the urgency that comes after a long break.
Nana stepped forward and scanned the site. "The building materials are distributed within a radius of eight meters, with a total weight of approximately 470 kilograms. If a single person were to move them by hand, it would take more than three hours, reaching the upper limit of physical exertion."
"So?" Chen Hao turned to look at her.
“I suggest we develop a preliminary division of labor plan.” She pointed to the nearest piece of board. “I can handle the transportation of heavy components, and you are responsible for positioning and securing them.”
Chen Hao grinned: "Alright, robot comrade, this time we're really going to be construction site partners."
He bent down to test the weight of a piece of board, took a breath, and straightened up. "But let me make this clear first—don't just leave me exhausted and call it a day."
“My energy can sustain me for seventeen hours,” Nana said calmly. “Your physical limit is currently two hours and nine minutes.”
"...Do you have to be so accurate in your calculations?"
Laughter carried far across the empty wilderness.
The wind whipped up fine sand, which swept past their feet.
Chen Hao took a deep breath, bent down again, and gripped the edge of the board with both hands.
“Come on,” he said. “A new chapter begins.”
Nana didn't move, but stood still as the robotic arm slowly unfolded, its joints emitting a soft hydraulic sound. Her sensors scanned each piece of material, and the data stream rapidly processed internally, generating the shortest path and optimal load-bearing distribution model.
“For the first trip, I’ll be carrying three pieces,” she said. “You just need to clear the way and avoid obstacles interfering with the movement.”
"Clearing the passageway?" Chen Hao patted the dust off his trousers. "You talk as if I'm a cleaner."
“Your physical fitness rating is C-, meaning your load-bearing capacity is insufficient for efficient transportation,” Nana said calmly. “However, light tasks such as clearing debris and marking routes are a good fit for your current condition.”
"So, in your eyes, I'm just a walking signpost?"
More accurately, it is an "auxiliary unit with subjective initiative".
"Wow, this word sounds even worse than being a cleaner."
He muttered something as he squatted down, picked up a fist-sized stone, and tossed it aside. His movements were slow, but he didn't stop. The slanting sunlight cast a crooked shadow, making him look like a clumsy beetle clinging to the ground.
Nana stepped forward, gripped the three outermost metal plates with both arms, and lifted them steadily. Her steps were even, and she landed silently, as if she were carrying not a nearly 150-kilogram inanimate object, but a stack of documents.
"Take the straight line, don't take the long way around," Chen Hao shouted from behind. "I don't want to make two extra trips!"
“My navigation system has an error of less than 0.3 centimeters.” She didn’t even turn her head. “But you, the direction you threw the stone just now was 1.7 meters off the designated clearance area.”
"Who remembers such details? I'm not a ruler."
“You’re a human, not a machine, so you need reminders.” Nana paused. “That’s one of my functions.”
Chen Hao rolled his eyes and continued moving stones. One trip, two trips later, sweat began to bead on his forehead, and his breathing became heavy. He stopped to catch his breath and looked up to see that Nana had already piled the first batch of building materials into the designated area, as neatly as stacked building blocks.
"Your efficiency... it's not like you're working, it's more like you're putting on a show."
“Performances require emotional feedback from the audience.” Nana turned around. “There are no third parties present at the moment, so this does not constitute a performance.”
I was using a metaphor!
“I know.” She blinked. “I just didn’t want you to feel like I was praising you.”
Chen Hao almost choked on his own saliva.
He wiped his face and bent down again to move the next piece of board. This time, he didn't lift it by hand, but tried to drag it. The edge of the metal board scraped against the ground, making a screeching sound.
"It would be great if this thing could have wheels," he said, grinning.
“Okay,” Nana said, “when we have time to cut the steel, make the bearings, design the connection structure, and find the lubricating material.”
"It sounds like we'll have to wait until the next life."
"Based on my calculations, if the current rate of resource acquisition is maintained, a simple sled prototype can be completed within eighteen months of an Earth year."
"...I was almost ready to retire here by then."
"You are 23 years old this year, and the average life expectancy is 76 years. Theoretically, you still have plenty of time to participate in the construction."
"Can you please stop using the word 'theoretically' all the time? It sounds like you're subtly saying 'you won't live to see that day.'"
"I had no such intention."
"But your words always veer in that direction."
Nana didn't respond again. She simply walked closer to him, bent down and picked up the stubborn piece of board, then turned and walked towards the storage area.
Chen Hao paused for a moment, then scratched the back of his head. "Hey, are you pitying me?"
“No.” She continued walking. “It’s just that calculations show that it would save me 4 minutes and 17 seconds compared to you continuing to struggle.”
"Ha. So I wasn't being helped, but rather criticized for being too inefficient."
You can understand it as me optimizing the overall progress.
"What a heartwarming answer."
They continued working. The sun rose higher, and the temperature slowly increased. Chen Hao took off his jacket and tied it around his waist, revealing a faded t-shirt underneath. His movements became more and more practiced; although he was still panting heavily, his rhythm had become steady.
Nana made five round trips, transporting all the heavy sheet metal. On her last return trip, she stood in front of Chen Hao, slightly adjusting the focus of the optical lens.
“Next is the assembly stage,” she said. “You need to learn the basic, standardized procedures.”
"Another class?"
"The knowledge base contains a 'Beginner's Guide to Prefabricated Buildings', which is twelve minutes long and supports playback at multiple speeds."
“I wouldn’t remember it even if you played it at double speed,” Chen Hao waved his hand. “Just tell me what the first step is.”
"Confirm the flatness of the foundation."
How do you see it?
Nana ejected a slender probe from her arm interface and inserted it into several locations on the ground. "The current error is within the acceptable range. Next step: lay the underlying support beams."
Which one is the supporting beam?
She pointed to a long U-shaped steel piece. "This one."
"Oh, it looks like an oversized staple."
"It is used to enhance lateral stability and prevent structural distortion."
"I understand, it means we don't want the house to become twisted like a pretzel."
The metaphor is barely valid.
Chen Hao snorted and squatted down to move the steel beam. He had only lifted it halfway when his legs buckled and he almost knelt on the ground.
Nana reached out and supported the other end, easily lifting it up.
“Next time, let me know in advance if you need assistance,” she said.
"I want to see if I can do it."
"Trying is valuable, but excessive persistence can lead to injury or delays in the process."
"Couldn't you just say, 'Not bad, at least you tried'?"
“Your efforts have been recorded.” She paused. “The evaluation is: good motivation, but significant deviation in execution.”
"Thank you."
The two worked together to place the steel beam in place. Nana used the built-in tools to tighten the connection points, her movements as precise as surgery.
“Next step,” she looked up, “install the side frames.”
"Wait a minute." Chen Hao suddenly remembered something. "Did we forget something?"
"for example?"
"I need some shade! The sun is so strong it's giving me a headache. If I keep working like this, I'm afraid I'll get roasted."
“Indeed.” Nana scanned the sky. “The ultraviolet radiation has reached the warning level. I recommend activating a temporary sheltering plan.”
"Do you have a solution?"
"There is a spare solar panel on the top of the life capsule, which can be removed and used as the frame for a sunshade."
"It can be used like that?"
"Originally designed for energy replenishment, its physical properties make it suitable as a shielding structure in non-charging environments."
"Wow, your brain works faster than a wrench."
Nana walked towards the life pod, and a few minutes later removed the lightweight photovoltaic panel and carried it out.
"Where should I put it?" she asked.
"Insert it at the junction of the steel beams, the higher the better," Chen Hao instructed. "And tie it securely with rope."
Nana did as instructed, using the anchor hooks to fix the board at an angle. A shadow immediately fell, like a large, crooked umbrella.
Chen Hao plunged into the shade and let out a long sigh. "This is life."
"This is just a temporary improvement." Nana stood in the sunlight without any intention of avoiding it. "My shell is heat-resistant and doesn't need to be covered."
"You don't understand, for human beings, even a little shade is hope."
“Hope is a subjective feeling.” She looked at him slumped on the ground, “but from a physiological point of view, you have indeed reduced your risk of heatstroke.”
"Can't you just say something to my liking?"
“I can.” She paused. “You look… a little better now.”
"Wow." Chen Hao grinned. "That's the closest thing to gentle words you've ever said."
"I am merely stating the results of my observations."
“Say what you will.” He leaned against the steel beam, looking up at the swaying solar panel. “But seriously… we’ve actually started building it.”
“Yes.” Nana looked down at him. “The first phase of the mission is 63% complete.”
"This is only the beginning, and you're already calculating percentages?"
"Schedule management helps maintain momentum."
"My only motivation right now is to avoid getting sunburned."
He pushed himself up and patted his pants. "Let's go, don't let that little bit of shade delay our business. There are still a lot of boxes waiting to be dressed."
Nana nodded and turned to walk towards the next set of materials.
Chen Hao followed, his steps heavy but without hesitation.
The wind picked up again, swirling sand particles that pelted the metal surface, making a soft, rustling sound.
He bent down and gripped the edge of the board with both hands again.
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