Chen Hao stared at the last green indicator light on the screen, his finger feeling slightly numb. It wasn't from the electricity; it was from being pinched. A thin layer of resin bandage was wrapped around his little finger, faintly smelling of honey. He moved his finger, wincing in pain.
"Could you please let me know in advance next time?" he asked.
Nana stood in front of the terminal, her optical glasses flashing slightly: "I said 'about to disconnect' three times."
"I meant the robotic arm was going to clamp me."
"It didn't give you the instruction to clamp it."
"But it dried out."
“Abnormal behavior has been logged. Root source code is being traced.” She paused for half a second. “I suggest you don’t put your finger in the runtime area.”
"I didn't stretch it out! It bumped into me on its own!"
"The monitoring shows that when you were adjusting the irrigation parameters, your body leaned forward by 37 centimeters, and your right hand was within the range of motion of the robotic arm."
Chen Hao didn't speak, but looked down at his stomach. "It's not my body shape that's to blame, it's the design that's flawed. The machine should avoid people."
"Normally yes."
"This is not the normal situation."
"We are currently in the testing phase."
They both fell silent for a moment. The status bars of the twenty modules on the control panel were neatly arranged, all with green lights on. The only sound in the air was the low-frequency hum of the equipment, like someone softly snoring.
Half an hour ago, they completed the third round of isolation experiments. Energy, water supply, temperature control, aquaculture, agriculture... all systems were disconnected and reconnected, like performing heart bypass surgery. Each time they were disconnected, the rest stabilized. There were no chain reactions, no crashes and restarts.
It can be considered a success.
But Chen Hao felt that something was still not right.
He leaned back in his chair, his shoulder against the corner of the wall, with the resin notebook beside him. The cover read, "Don't forget to water your vegetables," and below it in smaller print, "Don't reach out to fix machines."
He added this himself.
"What's the next test?" he asked.
"Self-healing mechanism trial operation. Target module: Environmental control group b."
"Is it that guy who always acts crazy?"
"Exactly."
Nana brought up the interface and entered a series of commands. A countdown timer popped up in the center of the screen: [Simulated Fault Injection - Starting in 10 seconds].
Chen Hao sat up a little straighter: "This time I really don't need to press any buttons, right?"
"Fully automatic."
"Great, I can rest for a while."
The countdown has reached zero.
A system notification sounded: "[Temperature sensor failure detected. Local repair protocol initiated]".
A few seconds later, the status changed to: [Attempting to reload the driver].
Two seconds later: [Reload failed, requesting assistance from neighboring modules for diagnosis].
Chen Hao glanced at the temperature control module in group C next door. Its indicator light flashed twice and it began transmitting data.
"They have a good team spirit."
Nana didn't reply, staring at the rapidly scrolling log feed.
The next moment, the screen flashed red: [Repair failed, entering a second restart loop].
"Here we go again," Chen Hao sighed.
Sure enough, in less than ten seconds, module B began to restart frantically, its status lights flashing back and forth between red and green, like someone constantly switching a flashlight on and off. The backup power load rapidly increased, and the alarm sounded briefly before being automatically muted.
"It drains the battery too quickly," Chen Hao said.
“There is no circuit breaker mechanism.” Nana immediately switched to the underlying level and manually terminated the repair process. “The system is fixated on invalid operations and no maximum number of attempts has been set.”
"Then let's add a restriction. Try three times, and if it doesn't work, just stay put and don't mess around."
“Adopted.” She quickly drafted the new rule: “Level 1: Local overload; Level 2: Request support; Level 3: Report and isolate.”
After entering the code, she restarted the test.
This time, after two failures, module B proactively entered read-only mode and displayed a yellow warning: [Repair failed, request manual intervention].
Chen Hao laughed: "It has finally learned to admit defeat."
"This is not admitting defeat, it is a rational decision."
"Anyway, the result is the same—it saves electricity."
Nana brought up the visualization interface and added a small light above each module: green for normal operation, yellow for warning, and red for malfunction. The color changes in real time according to the status, making it easy to see where the problem is at a glance.
“It’s much clearer than before.” Chen Hao nodded. “Before, when something happened, all you saw was a red screen, which made people panic.”
"We can now pinpoint the location precisely."
"So, does that mean you won't need to go to the site in person anymore? You can just shout 'Power off' remotely?"
"Theoretically feasible."
"Then wouldn't I be safer?"
"You may still put your hand in places you shouldn't."
"...You hold a grudge."
"I'm just recording the facts."
Chen Hao rolled his eyes and was about to speak when he suddenly noticed that the status bar of the irrigation system flickered slightly.
It's so short, you can barely see it.
He leaned closer to the screen: "That green light, did it blink just now?"
Nana immediately amplified the signal stream: "Module 13, Agricultural Monitoring Subunit, received a non-standard instruction from the historical buffer."
"What do you mean?"
“An old piece of code that was not deregistered was accidentally activated, triggering the robotic arm calibration procedure.”
"That's why it suddenly moved?"
"yes."
"Why is this code still here?"
"It was used for 3D projection debugging in Chapter 384 and was not removed afterwards. It has been lying dormant for a long time due to the failure of the compatibility layer filter."
Chen Hao frowned: "So, what we thought we had completely deleted is actually still hiding in the background?"
"precise."
"Will other modules have the same thing?"
"Scanning in progress."
A few minutes later, the system listed seven potential remnant points, distributed across the communication, lighting, and aquaculture control systems.
"Are they all from the old antique era?" Chen Hao asked.
"yes."
"Then why don't you hurry up and clean it up?"
"Each feature dependency needs to be verified individually to avoid accidentally deleting critical services."
"You almost caused all the cucumbers to die of thirst last time you deleted data. Have you learned your lesson now?"
"Lessons learned."
Chen Hao snorted, picked up a pen and wrote in his notebook: "Clean up junk files regularly, don't wait for them to rebel on their own."
After finishing writing, he looked up and asked, "What's next?"
"Establish an automated auditing mechanism. All modules will perform daily self-checks and compare against trusted source mirror libraries. An alert will be issued immediately upon detecting any anomalies."
"It sounds like antivirus software."
"The essence is the same."
"What about the key? Now that the modules are separate, who has the final say?"
"The main control console remains the node with the highest authority."
“But I just saw you couldn’t even switch a light, it was stuck for ages.”
"Because the authorization chain is broken. The old system relied on single authentication and could not adapt to a distributed structure."
"So what are you planning to do? You can't expect me to sign off on each one, can you?"
"No need. We use a dual-verification mechanism: human operation + AI signature, for double verification."
"That sounds complicated."
"Only one-time binding is required, and subsequent synchronization will be automatic."
"Alright. But I think we need to add a rule."
"Please speak."
“Each module comes with its own unique ID at the factory. Every time it is modified, a record must be kept. Anyone who tries to impersonate someone else can be identified immediately.”
Nana paused for two seconds: "This solution is superior to the current concept. Adopt it and name it the 'Honeycomb Trust Model'."
"The name is too fancy. Just call it 'Anti-Impersonation Law'."
"The naming does not affect the functionality."
"Of course it won't affect anything, but it sounds reassuring."
Nana began restructuring the authentication process. A new partition was created in the quantum storage specifically to store the basic identity information of each module. It is automatically checked every morning at midnight, and if any discrepancies are found, the system is immediately locked and reported.
The entire process lasted forty minutes.
After completing that, she started a new round of stress tests.
All twenty modules were disconnected, restarted, and reconnected in sequence. Communication delays, power fluctuations, data loss... all sorts of extreme situations were simulated.
All results were passed.
The green light is stable, the data flows smoothly, and there is no human intervention.
Chen Hao looked at the screen and breathed a sigh of relief: "Finally done."
"The situation is initially stable, but continued monitoring is still required."
“I know you never say ‘absolutely no problem’.”
"Because there is no such thing as absolute safety."
“That’s why I’m tired.” He rubbed his temples. “Every time I feel relieved, you say, ‘There are still hidden dangers.’”
"This is my duty."
"It's also my nightmare."
He stood up, supporting himself on the table; his legs were still a little weak. The aftereffects of the electric shock hadn't completely disappeared; his right foot dragged behind his left when he walked.
He walked over to the tool rack, grabbed a pair of insulated pliers, and then put them back.
"No need," he said. "I'll just call you if I need anything fixed in the future."
"Can."
"I should learn some new things too. I can't always rely on you to cover for me."
"Welcome to learn."
"Let's start by understanding these lights." He pointed to the status panel above his head. "Green means you're okay, yellow means be careful, red... run!"
"The red ones need to be dealt with, no need to run away."
"What if it explodes again?"
"We will issue early warnings."
"I hope so."
He walked back to the console, sat down, and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
A notification pops up in the bottom right corner of the screen: [Self-healing system deployment complete] [Modular architecture running normally]
He stared at it for a few seconds, then suddenly asked, "Tell me, what's the point of all this tearing it down and reassembling it, reassembling it and modifying it?"
Nana turned to look at him.
"Isn't it to prevent the system from dying too?" she replied.
"But all this trouble, isn't it all just to live a simpler life?"
"It has not yet been achieved."
"When will that be possible?"
"When all modules can run autonomously without human intervention."
How far is that?
"uncertain."
Chen Hao smiled and said, "Let's leave it at that for now. At least there was no power outage, no fire, and no one was electrocuted today."
"No one got stuck."
"That last one doesn't count?"
"Minor contact, not meeting the criteria for an accident."
"It's easy for you to say that when you're not in the situation."
Nana did not respond, but simply loaded the next round of load test parameters into the system.
A countdown window slowly appeared: [72-Hour Continuous Run Test - Coming Soon]
Chen Hao looked at the words and slowly tucked his injured finger into his sleeve.
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