361: Choices before the Genesis Engine

Sunlight shone into the control room, casting light onto the metal walls.

Dust drifted in the light.

The vehicle model was parked; the last wisp of white smoke rose from its hood before it stalled.

Chen Wang stood before the console, pulling his hand back from the vehicle, his fingers covered in dust and dried blood.

He didn't wipe it off, instead looking down at his hands before walking to the center of a circle of low metal chairs.

His knees cracked as he sat down.

Su Ling leaned against the wall, her left hand pressing firmly against her left shoulder, her fingers white from the pressure.

She didn't sit, nor did she stand straight, but leaned her back against the broken control panel, her breathing steadier than before.

Lin Wei knelt before the terminal, her glasses sliding down to the bridge of her nose, clutching one end of a data cable.

Su Wan sat beside the medical pod tubes with the monitor on her lap, the lines on the screen jumping erratically.

Amy Chen sat cross-legged on an overturned control panel, rolling a coin back and forth in her hand.

Star Pupil lay on the floor with her eyes closed, the mechanical parrot "broadcaster" blinking its red light, like a heartbeat.

No one spoke.

The sunlight slowly shifted to the edge of the console.

Chen Wang raised a hand to block the light and spoke: "The problem now isn't whether we can start it, but how to use it."

Lin Wei looked up, closed her notebook, her voice slightly hoarse: "If the operation is wrong, could there be a reverse freeze?"

"I've checked the energy backflow data, and the reactor temperature is beyond the safe range."

After speaking, she placed the notebook on her lap and tapped the cover twice with her right hand.

Su Wan continued: "The medical pod also has issues."

"The moss in culture dish number three has grown four times its size in ten minutes."

"This isn't natural growth; it's been forcibly activated."

"I'm worried that this isn't just repair, but possibly the beginning of some kind of chain reaction."

She looked at the monitor, not looking up.

Chen Wang nodded, stood up, walked to the edge of the console, placed his hands on the table, and leaned forward.

Outside the window, the ice sheet cracked, and sunlight shone on the melting ice, making it glisten.

He said: "After running for so many years, we finally have a chance to let the world return to what it was."

"I suggest running the genesis engine at full power; the goal isn't just to save a small area, but to restart the entire Earth's ecosystem."

Su Ling frowned, her voice low: "What if the restart fails?"

She stared at Chen Wang: "We have sunlight now, we have water, we can still survive."

"But if the engine goes out of control, even this bit of safety will be gone."

After finishing, her left hand pressed against her old shoulder injury again, her fingers gripping tighter.

Amy Chen stopped the coin and looked up at Chen Wang: "The SP and energy core are almost gone."

"This startup has already exhausted our reserves."

"We don't have a second chance."

She paused: "Have you calculated it?"

"Running at full power will drain all resources."

"If we're wrong, we'll have nothing left."

Lin Wei took off her glasses, wiped the lenses with her sleeve, and put them back on: "Technically it can be done, but the system might not be stable."

"The previous purification was based on baseline parameters; no one knows what will happen after pressurization."

She pointed to the screen: "For example, this—the output value of the C-zone energy core has fluctuations, a cycle every 0.7 seconds; although it's still within range, it has never appeared before."

Chen Wang turned his head and asked: "How much of a difference?"

"Less than three percent."

Lin Wei's hand hovered over the touchpad, not clicking: "It could be vibration interference, or it could be system latency."

"But right now, it's the only one of the six cores doing this; it's like... its heartbeat is different."

Star Pupil suddenly opened her eyes.

She didn't move, her lips moving slightly: "The energy flow... it's not right."

Her right hand slowly lifted and rested on her forehead, as if feeling something: "Six frequencies, one of them skipped, like it's stuck."

The room suddenly went quiet.

Sunlight shone on her face, the shadows of her eyelashes trembling slightly.

The mechanical parrot blinked its red light, paused, and blinked again, the rhythm matching her speech.

Lin Wei immediately brought up the system interface and zoomed in on the energy spectrum.

Six lines were side by side, and one of them indeed had a small fluctuation.

She watched for a few seconds, her voice softening: "She's right."

"The output of the C-zone energy core drops 0.6% every 0.7 seconds, then recovers."

"Although it doesn't affect the present, this lack of synchronization... shouldn't exist."

Su Wan watched the monitor, her brow furrowing tighter and tighter.

She didn't speak, tapping her fingers slowly on the edge of the instrument.

Amy Chen put the coin into her pocket and looked up at Chen Wang: "What does this mean?"

Chen Wang didn't answer.

He stared at the fluctuating line, his left hand brushing over the burn scar on his left arm.

His work uniform sleeve had several holes burned into it, and the exposed skin was still oozing blood.

He remembered how he got this scar—ten years ago, while repairing a truck, oil leaked, sparks flew in, and the pain made him drop to his knees.

But the truck was fixed, and he survived.

Parts don't lie, but systems do.

"Is it outside interference?" he asked.

Lin Wei shook her head: "The shielding layer is intact, and the electromagnetic environment is stable."

"If it were outside influence, the other cores would also change."

"But it's only this one."

"Then it's an internal problem," Su Ling said, her voice cold. "Either the core is broken, or the control program is faulty."

Amy Chen said in a low voice: "We can't afford any mistakes right now."

Chen Wang was still bracing himself against the table, leaning forward, his eyes never leaving that line.

Sunlight shone on his back, casting a long shadow on the floor.

He could hear his own breathing, and the sound of the ice sheet cracking in the distance.

The vehicle was still there, an old companion that had accompanied him through the black tide and crashed through cannon fire, now also parked here, waiting for the next order.

But this time, it wasn't about charging forward; it was about deciding which way to go.

"So," he finally spoke, his voice not loud, but everyone heard it clearly, "we have two things now."

"First, whether to restart the ecosystem at full power; second, whether the fluctuation in the C-zone core is a danger signal."

No one responded.

Su Ling looked at him, her eyes filled with doubt, yet also waiting for an answer.

Lin Wei's hand still hovered over the touchpad, not daring to click.

Su Wan looked down at the monitor, her lips moving, but no words came out.

Amy Chen reached into her pocket again, the coin rolling once over her fingertips.

Star Pupil closed her eyes, her right hand still on her forehead, and the mechanical parrot's red light blinked slower, its rhythm changing, as if responding to something unseen.

Chen Wang looked up out the window.

The sunlight continued to advance, the ice cracking deeper.

The wind blew in through the cracks, a little damp, a little warm.

He knew how precious this feeling was.

He also knew that some decisions, once made, could not be undone.

"I need an answer," he said, "now."