The faint light of dawn struggled to penetrate the thick, composite filters of the Ark's dome, laced with rare metal filaments. A thin, pale beam of light slanted across the center of the central data hub—the control room, codenamed the "Pillar of Creation." Within this beam, countless holographic data stream particles, smaller than dust particles, silently sank and collided, reflecting a cold, illusory glimmer, like ancient mosquitoes struggling in solidified amber.
Lin Mo stood before the console, his back straight, like a javelin thrust into scorched earth. His fingertips hovered over the slightly warm holographic touchscreen, his gaze fixed on the dense stream of light dots cascading before him, representing the status of the access nodes of various parties under the Data Sharing Convention.
Three months.
It has been exactly three months since the negotiation deep in the ruins of Volume 5, which almost extinguished the last spark of civilization, and since the various forces, at the shaky negotiating table, pressed the seal of consensus representing compromise and fragility with their fingers stained with gunpowder and the blood of their own soldiers, and signed the "Data Sharing Convention" with every word weighing a heavy weight.
Three months ago, the shadow of ruins weighed heavy and suffocating. The remaining city-states and settlements, like frightened birds, operated independently on isolated islands cut off from information, wary of one another and even hostile. Resources, weapons, living space... everything was rapidly depleted in the struggle. The cloud of despair crushed countless people and gave rise to twisted ambitions.
In the end, it was the negotiation centered on the "Ark" base and codenamed "Rebirth of the Ruins." After being on the verge of complete collapse countless times and countless days and nights of quarrels, threats, compromises, and even brief exchanges of fire, a consensus was barely reached: instead of sinking together in mutual suspicion and blockade, it would be better to try to share the most precious and scarce "new blood" in the ruins world - data.
The vast information repositories left over from the past have long since been shattered by disaster and the erosion of time, like pearls scattered in a vast sea of sand. Acquiring new data is as difficult as breathing in a vacuum. Exploration, repair, communications, energy distribution, even the most basic necessities of survival—everything depends on data streams. Without data, reconstruction is empty talk, and rebirth is a distant dream.
The core of the Convention lies in the data-sharing platform, spearheaded by Ark and encompassing all signatory parties. Like a vast, invisible life-support system, it connects the isolated islands of data held by each party with fragile network pipelines. What is shared is the "new blood" that each party cherishes as life; what is exchanged is a glimmer of hope for survival.
The core of the platform is the hub before Lin Mo, called the "Pillar of Creation." Its name carries the deepest hope, the hope that it can become the spark that ignites new life in the ruins.
However, at this moment, the flame of hope is as weak as a candle in the wind.
At the edge of the console's massive light curtain, the circular energy bar, symbolizing the platform's overall "health," was visible at a pace where the bright blue, representing abundance and vitality, was being devoured and consumed by a palpable grayish-white, a symbol of exhaustion and decay. The grayish-white spread within the circular bar like a plague, and each flicker was accompanied by a low, almost imperceptible, yet piercing humming sound.
That was the alarm cry of the continuously declining water level in the core data pool of the entire platform.
"The water level in the shared pool has dropped another 0.7 percentage points." Su Mu's voice sounded beside Lin Mo, as cold as a stone thrown into an icy lake, breaking the suffocating silence in the main control hall where only the hum of machines could be heard.
She approached, her steps light, yet each one carried an indescribable heaviness. She stopped beside Lin Mo, not looking at him, her gaze fixed on the energy ring, which was constantly being eroded by the grayish-white hue. Her dark blue uniform, representing a technical director, outlined a slightly flimsy yet remarkably tough silhouette. Pinned to her cuff was a small lily brooch, fashioned from discarded circuit boards, which shone dimly in the pale light. It was the last item her mother had left behind. On the morning before the disaster, her mother had smiled and said she was going to the research institute to deal with a "small problem," and she never returned.
Lin Mo's gaze struggled to move from the energy ring to the profile of Su Mu. The lines of her face were still as delicate as the finest oriental porcelain in a bygone museum, but now, they were covered in fine cracks invisible to the naked eye. Dark shadows lay beneath her eyes, like lingering clouds of haze. Ever since the platform officially launched, and especially with the increasing frequency of water level alarms, she had practically been pinned to this place. The exhaustion that sank to her bones threatened to seep through her taut skin.
"It's the same old problem?" Lin Mo said, his voice a little hoarse, and he could even hear the suppressed anxiety in it. He reached out, his fingertips tracing the air, and pulled up several of the latest resource scheduling reports. A holographic projection unfolded before him, complex charts and data streams flashing, like a diagnosis of a terminal illness.
"Yeah." Su Mu's response was brief and affirmative, tinged with a near-numbing exhaustion. "From all sides...mainly Anvil City and Quicksand Collection, data uploads have shrunk again. The density of valid information points in their submitted exploration reports is 15% lower than last week. The so-called 'precise positioning of large mineral veins' submitted by Anvil City, after cross-verification, the data coordinate error rate exceeds the warning line by three times. It's simply a pile of worthless garbage coordinates." She tilted her head slightly, her eyes finally meeting Lin Mo's briefly. Her usually clear and calm eyes now surged with uncontrollable anger and a deep sense of powerlessness. "They're fooling us, Lin Mo. They're using filtered, even deliberately fabricated, low-quality data in exchange for the most core high-precision environmental data and restoration blueprints in our shared pool, which have been repeatedly purified and calibrated by the Ark technical team."
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