335: Chapter 335 A Person Who Does Not Exist

"Five million one hundred thousand."

Davis's voice was flat, but those sitting next to him could see his hand on the table—the veins on the back of his hand were bulging.

"Yes," Michael Chen said. "Among them, active-duty military movements account for about 2.8 million. We deduced this through Great Xia's public data on military district rotations. Approximately one million veterans were re-enlisted; this part started two years ago—we noticed it then but didn't take it to heart. The rest are veteran workers with extensive experience being recruited."

"Workers?" Davis repeated the word, his tone filled with disbelief.

"Yes."

"This might just be a cover for conscription."

"Yes."

Davis stood up.

He walked to the main screen and looked at the pie chart.

Then he turned around and looked at the thirteen people in the conference room.

"We have this data now," he said. "Now, I need someone to answer a question."

He didn't raise his voice, but every word sounded like it was being hammered out.

"1.84 billion tons of supplies, 5.1 million people—where did they all go?"

No one spoke.

"On the satellite imagery of W-4473, what is the base's footprint?" Davis asked.

An analyst beside him flipped through a document. "About 270 square kilometers."

"270 square kilometers," Davis said. "The largest military base in Eagle Sauce territory, Fort Benning, is 730 square kilometers. 1.84 billion tons of supplies dropped into a place less than half the size of Fort Benning—tell me, what should it look like?"

"It should be... packed full," the analyst said.

"It should be piled into mountains," Davis said. "Supplies piled high. People in vast crowds. But what does our satellite imagery show?"

He switched the screen.

A fresh satellite image of base W-4473 appeared on the main screen.

The outline of the base was visible in the image—an area enclosed by walls, containing building complexes, roads, tarmacs, and warehouses.

But—

"The ground looks very clean," Michael Chen said. "No traces of piled-up supplies."

"The personnel density is also wrong," Davis said. "Satellite infrared imagery shows that the total number of personnel heat signatures inside the base was about 400,000 at its peak. 400,000 people—it can't even accommodate the full transport volume of any single batch among the 5.1 million."

"So—"

"So, after these supplies and personnel entered the base, they vanished," Davis said.

Someone in the conference room gasped.

"Vanished," Davis repeated. "1.84 billion tons of supplies, 5.1 million people, entered a 270-square-kilometer area and then vanished from our satellites."

"That's impossible," a female analyst sitting in the back row said. "Matter doesn't just vanish into thin air. Unless—"

She stopped.

"Unless what?" Davis asked.

"Unless they were moved to a place we can't see."

"For example?"

"Underground," the female analyst said. "A massive underground facility. Deep-earth bunkers—our satellites can't penetrate rock layers beyond a certain depth."

"Possible," Davis said. "But we've done geological assessments. The geological structure of the W-4473 region doesn't support large-scale underground facilities—the water table is too high, and the rock layers are unstable. Maybe a small command post could be built, but it wouldn't fit 1.84 billion tons of supplies and five million people."

The female analyst fell silent.

"Any other hypotheses?" Davis asked.

Someone whispered, "Transfer by sea. They're repackaging the supplies from W-4473 and shipping them elsewhere."

"The data doesn't support that," Michael Chen said. "The logistics lines entering W-4473 are one-way. All convoys go in; none come out. The same goes for the railways—the special trains heading to W-4473 all return empty."

"Then they really have vanished," the female analyst said.

The conference room was silent for a long time.

Davis returned to his seat and sat down.

"Everyone," he said. "The situation we're facing is this: a country has, over the past year, poured enough supplies to build twenty ultra-large strategic bases and a population equivalent to that of a small nation into a place that doesn't seem large enough, and then those supplies and personnel vanished from our sight."

"We don't know where they are."

"We don't know what they're doing."

"We don't even know if 'they' can still be described as 'supplies and personnel'—because with investment carried out at this speed, scale, and level of secrecy, the traditional concept of 'base construction' can no longer explain the phenomenon before us."

He paused.

"And I need to submit an analytical report to the National Security Council within forty-eight hours, telling them what happened."

At that moment, there was a knock on the conference room door.

A young man in a suit walked in and handed Davis an encrypted file.

Davis opened it and took a look.

His brow furrowed, then deepened.

"What's the situation?" Michael Chen asked.

Davis handed him the file.

Michael Chen glanced at it.

The document was a fresh intelligence briefing—in the past seventy-two hours, Great Xia's veteran affairs System and the 'Genetic Disease Treatment Program Office' had simultaneously issued new notices.

A preliminary estimate of the number of personnel involved.

Seven million.

All movements are expected to be completed within three months.

Michael Chen put the document down.

"Davis," he said. "Damn it! They're planning to conscript another seven million!"

"I saw."

"If these seven million are finished being conscripted, the total number of people they've mobilized will reach thirteen million."

"I know," Davis said.

"They've picked up the pace," Michael Chen said. "So they're racing against time to do something."

"What thing?"

Someone at the far end of the conference room asked.

No one answered.

Because no one knew.

Davis looked at the satellite image of W-4473 on the screen—that quiet, not particularly large, seemingly unremarkable base.

1.84 billion tons of supplies.

5.1 million people.

And then the next batch of seven million.

What are they doing?

What on earth are they doing?

What on earth do they want to do?

Davis took a deep breath.

"Meeting adjourned," he said. "Everyone back to your posts. I need a revised comprehensive assessment within twenty-four hours. Michael, you stay."

After everyone had left, Davis and Michael Chen sat in the empty conference room.

The satellite image on the screen was still glowing.

"Your thoughts?" Davis asked.

Michael Chen thought for a long time.

"I have a hypothesis," he said. "It's very half-baked; I don't even quite believe it myself. But besides this hypothesis, I can't think of any other explanation that can account for all the data simultaneously."

"Speak."

"They've mastered a technology we don't understand at all," Michael Chen said. "This technology allows them to transport supplies and personnel to a place we can't see. Not underground, not overseas, not any geographical location our satellites can cover."

"A... different place."

"Yes."

Davis looked at him.

"Do you know how this hypothesis will be viewed at the Standing Committee Meeting?"

"I know."

"They'll think you're crazy."

"I know."

Davis was silent for a while.

Then he stood up, walked to the main screen, and closed all the charts and data one by one, leaving only the satellite image of W-4473 in the center.

"But Davis," Michael Chen said behind him, "there's one more thing."

Davis turned around.

"Su Mingyuan," Michael Chen said. "Over the past six months, we've attempted 273 times to retrieve information about him through various channels. Birthday, place of origin, family members, education, social relationships—any information at all."

"The result?"

"Zero," Michael Chen said. "His information hasn't been deleted—'deleted' would imply leaving traces of deletion. His information has simply never existed. It's as if he appeared out of thin air."

"A person who doesn't exist," Davis said.

"Yes, a person who doesn't exist now," Michael Chen said, "but who certainly existed in the past."