Chapter 103: Choice
The morning sunlight crossed over City's ruined skyline, spilling down from the pale blue sky, gilding this devastated steel jungle with a thin layer of gold.
Three " " drones swept over the city in a standard delta formation, their search radars beneath their fuselages scanning silent building after silent building.
But not a single was found. Except for and , City had achieved a complete purge.
Inside , the that had once echoed with alarms and gunfire had been quiet for days now — it had been a long time since any new could approach the perimeter wall.
And as and the others brought back and repaired the military production equipment from , the completion of the was now within sight.
On the road from to , a steady stream of ore was being delivered truckload by truckload into the 's , where it was turned into block after block of high-purity metal ingots, then transported to the various next-stage processing workshops.
And on the surface, the once-scattered " " replicating drones had now formed a metal torrent visible to the naked eye.
Like the most efficient scavengers, they devoured every valuable material in the city ruins, then replicated more of their kind within their respective " " mothers.
Now, within the 's actual sphere of control, there were four Mothers, located in , Mine, the of City, and , producing drone swarms in terrifying numbers day and night.
And beneath the city, the led by and others worked in close cooperation with members of the , thoroughly purging the remaining from City's underground transit network and facilities.
At present, apart from the complicated , the entire underground transit network of City had been restored and reconnected.
Everything was moving in a good direction.
***
East of 's living area, .
was enjoying a rare stretch of leisurely time. She sat on a small folding stool with a huge drawing board set up before her, the brush in her hand dancing briskly across it.
This place had originally been an empty lot. But now, it had a name.
" ."
The cause of it all was simple.
A little girl named read a few gardening books and became interested in growing flowers.
So she rounded up a few close little girlfriends, picked up some broken bricks, and built a small flower bed in a corner of the empty lot.
Afterward, at 's prompting, the little girls also wrote a crooked land application:
[We hereby apply to open up a small plot of vacant land for planting flowers. The estimated area is one square meter, and it will not affect the operation of any production facilities.]
found it very interesting, so she approved it.
At the time, she only thought this was the children's momentary playfulness, and that before long, they would give up on their own.
But what happened afterward exceeded her expectations.
That afternoon, the girls used the they had saved for two weeks to exchange for a small bag of pansy seeds and a few tubes of nutrient solution.
They crouched on the ground, carefully burying the seeds in the soil, watering them, and building the flower bed a little higher.
The next day, news of the flower bed spread among the children. Then, after school that day, the little girl Shen also came, bringing the sunflower seeds she had specially exchanged for.
On the third day, came too. He brought cornflower seeds and, along the way, helped carry over more bricks and soil, doubling the flower bed's border.
And then came , , , ...
Gradually, more and more children joined, and the scale of the flower bed kept expanding along with them.
From first submitting a crooked written application to her, to exchanging their hard-saved for flower seeds and nutrient solution, to sticking their little butts in the air as they battled wits with the bugs in the soil — this little flower bed became the children's most devoted after-school activity.
Soon after, passing workers and members would often smile and spend a little of their to buy new flower seeds from the exchange, entrusting the children to plant them.
And so, the flower bed kept growing like a snowball.
From one square meter to five square meters, from five to twenty.
From pansy sprouts poking out of the soil, to all kinds of nameless green seedlings cramming the entire plot, it became a new wonder in the .
Even though not a single plant in the flower bed had bloomed, almost everyone who passed by believed that one day, it would surely be a sea of blossoms.
So, some people began to feel that they didn't have to simply wait around.
A young man who had worked as an illustrator before the disaster hauled over a large drawing board during his lunch break one day and was the first to paint an imagined picture of the flower bed.
In the painting, roses were gorgeous, camellias were vivid, blue-purple cornflowers swayed in the wind, and butterflies danced among the flowers.
The board was then solemnly set up beside the flower bed, and the children gave it their crooked title — " ."
With that painting, they worked even harder.
But the children soon discovered a problem: the flowers in the painting didn't include all the species already planted in the flower bed.
"There are no sunflowers in the painting!" pointed at the board discontentedly.
"There are no wild roses either!"
"I planted daisies, and those aren't up there either!"
So another sister who knew how to paint smiled and added three sunflowers and a clump of daisies.
Later on, as the flower species grew more numerous and the flower bed grew larger, a single drawing board was no longer enough to hold the painting.
Someone started it, and the wall beside the flower bed became the new canvas.
From time to time, passersby with a bit of painting skill would stop during work breaks, look at the ever-lengthening "list of flower species and quantities needed" that the children had posted, then crouch down to add a few strokes.
The children themselves refused to fall behind. The number of kids paying serious attention in art class skyrocketed. 's pansies still hadn't bloomed, but the pansies she painted herself already covered the whole wall.
Gradually, that wall was completely filled with all kinds of gorgeous flowers, turning into a colorful, lively, grand mural.
Roses climbed from the base of the wall to its top, sunflowers stretched from the left side to the right, and dotted in between were narcissus, lily of the valley, wisteria, peach blossoms, and a few strange flowers no one could identify — probably some child's original creations.
Perhaps even the children who first built the flower bed's boundary with stones never imagined that, later on, the flower bed would grow this big.
Or even that, before the real flowers bloomed, the flowers in people's hearts would bloom first on the wall.
***
At this very moment, sat in a corner of the flower bed, painting imagined flowers on the new drawing board she had set up before her.
" ." In the middle of painting, suddenly called out.
[Something up?] 's voice immediately rang out, a hint of haste in it.
"Nothing much, just a routine report," said without looking up, continuing to outline the shape of a butterfly iris. " and the others have brought the military production line back from , and the damaged equipment has been fully repaired. Full production at the is expected as early as tomorrow."
[Oh, got it.] 's voice sounded relieved.
looked up curiously at the surveillance camera in the corner. "What's wrong? It feels like you've been speaking faster lately."
[Nothing. It's just that the probability of something unexpected happening around here has been a bit high lately. When the comms go off, it feels like a mission trigger.] 's electronic voice sounded somewhat helpless. [Habitual thinking — I thought something had happened on your end again.]
"You really have it rough!" clicked her tongue.
[Not at all. I don't have a concept of fatigue, and as the grows, this kind of thing will only become more frequent. I expected it.] paused, then added in a slightly exaggerated tone, [After all, this must be the fate of a top-tier AI.]
"Ha!" shook her head. "I don't really understand how you AIs think."
[Nice painting!] 's attention shifted to the drawing board.
At this moment, the patch of blue-purple irises beneath 's brush was already taking shape, dotted with a few fluttering butterflies. The brushwork was exquisite, utterly lifelike.
"Of course! I specially took a refresher course in painting at the Personnel !" raised her chin proudly. Then, thinking of something, she added with a smile, "Come to think of it, it's pretty incredible. Ever since Muxue, , and the others started this flower garden, the number of people signing up for horticulture and art classes at the has gone way up. Even though everyone knows it won't help them transfer to the , they're still happy to spend their time and to learn a bit on their own."
[But that's a good thing too, isn't it?] 's voice carried approval. [Giving people a more convenient path to learn skills that were hard to master before — that's one of the meanings of the 's existence.]
Ever since the Personnel had opened, it could be said to have become the liveliest area in the .
Unlike the , which served children primarily, this place gave adult survivors the opportunity to efficiently master skills in specific fields.
Thanks to its highly efficient education and training processes, and its training strategy of minute-precise analysis and timely adjustment for each individual, the facility had rapidly cultivated a large number of professionals with a certain level of expertise for the , and they quickly became the backbone of the 's further development.
And as the 's population expanded, talent in every trade continued to increase. The that had hung there for so long had long since been declared complete.
[ I: Mastery of a Craft — Completed]
[Establish at least three mature vocational training systems (combat, production, research), and have one hundred survivors pass the assessment and obtain (100/100).]
[Mission evaluation: Average.]
[ gained: 5,000.]
[Unlocked: " " individual exoskeleton Ă—10, blueprint Ă—1.]
[Current : 78,529.]
The newly unlocked " " exoskeleton used a lightweight frame structure design. Its whole body was matte black, its structure clean and rugged.
Unlike the full-coverage heavy style of the " " armor, the " " was more like a precise metal skeleton, closely fitting the wearer's limbs and torso.
A flat power core module sat on the back, small hydraulic assistors were fitted at the limb joints, and the chest and shoulder armor were detachable modular protective plates.
While it lacked the sci-fi performance of the " ," its advantage lay in the low technical threshold and greatly reduced material requirements — perfectly matching 's need for mass production.
In 's blueprint, every member of the future should be equipped with at least one set of " " exoskeleton, an externally mounted " " shield generator, an in hand, and a man-portable air-defense missile launcher on their back.
In his view, that was what a doomsday soldier ought to look like.
However, mass production of the " " shield generator was still a difficult problem. He could only hope that and the others would soon "attain enlightenment" and conquer this hurdle.
"True," 's words interrupted 's reverie, and then her tone grew somewhat tense. "But, , how do you plan to arrange for those people from ?"
Hearing this, snapped back to reality and finally understood what the woman before the camera was truly worried about.
The nearly five thousand survivors from , due to their large numbers and widespread psychological problems, were currently still temporarily housed in a camp on the outskirts of .
Only a small number of the most severe cases had been transferred to the 's for further examination and attempts at treatment.
The good news was that the had proven very effective. After treatment, more than three thousand people's cognitive levels had basically returned to normal.
But the problem lay with the remaining thousand-plus people. Their recovery had generally been very limited, and some even remained in a state where their response to external stimuli was still at the level of a young child.
[What are your thoughts?] asked in return.
"Those who have recovered can be integrated into the in batches after the final round of checks at 's place," said. "They can fill the labor gaps in various positions very well."
[Fine. You'll still be in charge of coordinating that.] 's voice was calm and unruffled. [It'll be hard on you. With the suddenly taking in this many people, it's no small workload for you either.]
"I'm fine, actually. With your assistance, my workload isn't too heavy." shook her head, her tone turning grave. "The crux of the problem is... those remaining thousand-plus unrecovered people."
She paused to organize her thoughts.
"Those who recovered relatively better can be assigned suitable positions and participate in some simple production work under supervision. As for those with severe conditions... they'll be housed together centrally, with personnel arranged to look after them in shifts."
Through the surveillance camera beside the flower bed, quietly "watched" the 's base administrator.
The brush in her hand had stopped. Her shoulders were slightly tense.
It seemed she was well aware of what she was saying — what it meant, in such extraordinary times, to voluntarily propose that the take on the extra burden of more than a thousand people with almost no productive capacity.
But she had still said it.
[Why?] 's voice betrayed no emotion. [Their experiences deserve sympathy, but that isn't the responsibility of anyone at the . In extraordinary times, perhaps it is necessary.]
At these words, clenched the brush in her hand. After taking a deep breath, she spoke again: "Because... we are human."
"I've done the calculations. With the 's current material reserves and rate of expansion, we are fully capable of absorbing them. If it truly comes down to it, providing basic support at living standards would be enough."
She raised her head again, looking straight at the camera before her.
"I think that when you have the ability, you should do as much as you can... This is a matter concerning the most fundamental meaning of civilization. If your goal is to rebuild civilization, then—"
[I understand your compassion. I truly do treasure this emotion of humanity,] interrupted her. [But do you think you can take responsibility for the possible adverse consequences of this decision?]
"I..." fell silent.
She knew very well that she couldn't bear this responsibility. No one could.
But she still said, word by word: "I know I can't bear it. But I stand by my opinion. They are our compatriots, and human lives should never be a simple arithmetic problem."