A wave of nausea washed over her, and she bent over, retching, but nothing came out. Cold sweat soaked her back.
This is not paradise!
This is a massive, cold data slaughterhouse! The consciousness of those whose data is uploaded is simply raw material sent to the assembly line to be cut and slaughtered!
The dazzling prosperity beyond the clouds is sustained by the distorted echoes produced when countless fragments of consciousness are repeatedly squeezed and tormented!
She raised her head and gazed into the depths of this cold hell. Her gaze passed over the pipes flowing with streams of painful data, over the roaring giant cooling fans, and landed on the colossal, mountain-like structures in the distance, radiating an ominous red light.
Core logic module? Or... processing center?
Is the true nature of the "other shore" for managers right there?
Just then, a powerful, invisible force suddenly seized Jiang Chan!
"Unauthorized access to the deep maintenance channel detected..."
"A forced eviction is underway..."
A cold, synthesized electronic voice echoed in her mind.
Buzz! The surrounding scenery began to distort and fade rapidly! The cold, agonizing backstage space receded like a receding tide! The light in front of me began to recombine, and a blinding white light surged forth.
The last thing Jiang Chan saw was that in the darkness in the distance, among those huge, mountain-like red modules, the red light on the surface of one of the modules suddenly flickered rapidly and irregularly, accompanied by an exceptionally sharp and piercing collective wail!
The next second, the world spun around.
The blinding light enveloped everything once more. The sound of the waves became clear again.
Jiang Chan found herself kneeling on the soft sand of "Azure Shore," her hands sinking deep into the sand, her body trembling uncontrollably, her back icy cold. The sun was still warm, and the waves were still gently lapping at the shore.
It's breathtakingly perfect.
She slowly raised her head, gazing at the clear sky of this false paradise. In her eyes, there remained a deep-seated fear and coldness, but even more so, a burning, almost destructive rage and resolve.
She saw only the tip of the iceberg of the truth. And this truth was a thousand times more terrifying than the deepest nightmare.
Jiang Chan knelt on the soft white sand, her fingers sinking deep into the cold grains. The waves gently lapped at the shore, their rhythmic sound almost suffocating.
The cold sweat on his back hadn't dried completely, clinging to the smooth virtual skin. The strong, metallic taste in his throat—not real blood, but the nausea from the lingering pain and resonance on a conscious level—was impossible to swallow.
The backstage space. A cold, steel jungle. The acrid smell of ozone and burning. And the endless wails from countless fragments of consciousness...
She slowly raised her head. The sun was shining brightly, and the sky was an unnatural blue. Everything was perfect, like the most exquisite shop window display. But this perfection, in her eyes now, was just a thin layer of blood plasma plastered on a huge, filthy wound.
"Heaven?" Jiang Chan looked at her hands, which were simulated flawlessly, and dug her fingertips into her palms, but felt no pain. "Heh."
She needs evidence. Conclusive evidence that cannot be "corrected" or "reset." Memories in her head alone are not enough.
Jiang Chan forced herself to stand up, brushing away imaginary sand from her hands. She suppressed the fear and anger on her face, smoothing it out forcefully. She took a deep breath and forced a stiff smile.
From this moment forward, she must become the most perfect resident of "Paradise"—a newcomer who deeply believes in the "other side" and is obsessed with ultimate pleasure.
She began to "live" like a real resident.
She customized a luxurious rooftop garden, lay on a suspended chair, looked down at the ever-changing sea of clouds, and held a perfectly-tasting virtual drink that could never be finished.
She walked into the liveliest social salon, a standardized, cheerful smile on her face, and talked with her vacant-eyed "neighbors" about the blessings of the "other side," about the wonderful experience of yesterday's virtual interstellar travel, and about what new and interesting things she had created today.
“What a perfect experience, isn’t it?” she smiled at a woman who was showing off her newly “created” singing bioluminescent jellyfish.
“Of course! Praise be to the other side! Eternal happiness is right here!” the woman replied immediately, her tone enthusiastic, but her eyes seemed veiled in mist.
During each conversation, Jiang Chan observed carefully. She noticed the "residents" whose smiles were too perfect. She touched their limbs intentionally or unintentionally; their skin felt perfect and the temperature was just right, but there were no subtle pulses or temperature changes that life should have.
She quickly discovered a potential breakthrough: a middle-aged man in an old suit, his hair meticulously combed. He sat alone in a floating chair in the corner of the salon, holding a cup of virtual coffee. His eyes weren't empty like the others'; instead, they held a very subtle... bewilderment? As if he were trying to remember something.
Jiang Chan walked over with her cup, sat down on the empty chair next to him, and gave him a friendly smile: "Good afternoon. How's the coffee here? I feel like something's missing."
The man seemed to be startled awake, turning his head sharply. Seeing Jiang Chan, he forced a smile: "Ah, good afternoon. The coffee… very good, very good." He took a sip, "Perfect taste."
“It’s perfect.” Jiang Chan said, leaning forward slightly, her voice low, with a hint of tentative confusion, “It’s just… sometimes I suddenly think of the coffee I used to drink in real life, that bitter taste was quite unique, don’t you think?”
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