185: Chapter 184 Bomb Disposal, Social Anxiety and the Potato Crisis

Wang Xiaohua's gene bridging surgery was scheduled for 3 AM Cradle time.

This time wasn't chosen for medical reasons, but due to β-2's calculation: "At this time, the energy fluctuations in the Cradle are at a daily low, and external monitoring blind spots are at their maximum, which can reduce the probability of interference by 23%." — Translated into human language: It's harder to get snooped on when working in the middle of the night.

The surgical team was streamlined to the extreme: lead operator Zhou Zhe (because only he had a resonance connection with the mark), monitoring AI β-2, medical consultant Ashes, and a "technical support" that no one expected — Stardust.

"I'll act as a starlight shadowless lamp." Stardust stretched itself into a ring of light hovering above the operating table. The brightness was adjustable, the color temperature selectable, and it even had an ambient lighting mode. "Do you need a romantic pink-purple? It helps to relieve tension."

Zhou Zhe, wearing neuro-surgical gloves, didn't even look up: "Keep it to standard surgical white light. Also, could you stop rotating? It's making me dizzy."

"Tsk, young people don't understand romance." Stardust obediently froze, the light ring stabilizing into a fluorescent tube shape.

Wang Xiaohua lay on the operating table, deep sleep making her look like an exquisite doll. Sixteen electrode patches were attached to the sides of her head, connected to the main control console's screen, which displayed the activity curve of the mark in real-time — currently suppressed by the "Buddhist Shield," like a hibernating snake.

Ashes stood before the vital signs monitor, fingers tapping rapidly on the virtual keyboard to pull up the seventh emergency contingency plan. He had changed into a dark blue medical uniform today, and the scars looked particularly clear under the cold light.

"Final confirmation." β-2's projection appeared beside the operating table, holding a virtual checklist. "Patient consciousness isolation status: stable. Mirror circuit construction completion: 100%. Emergency freezing protocol ready. Nursery rhyme playlist loaded — current track: 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' Variations (Starry Sky Symphony Edition), volume 38 decibels."

Zhou Zhe took a deep breath: "Let's begin."

Step one, establish the bridge.

Zhou Zhe pressed his palm against the surgical interface on Wang Xiaohua's forehead. His consciousness sank, sliding along the preset neural pathways toward the language area where the mark was located. The world turned into a tunnel made of data streams, with countless fragments of images flashing by on both sides — Wang Xiaohua's childhood memories: falling down while learning to walk for the first time, the rainbow slide in kindergarten, the taste of the hot and sour rice noodles her dad made...

Then, that thing appeared at the end of the tunnel.

The mark appeared in the consciousness horizon as an extremely rudimentary geometric structure: an equilateral triangle with a constantly rotating Möbius strip nested inside. A line of text hung from each corner of the triangle, respectively:

[Directive 1: Wait for resonance source]

[Directive 2: Activate protocol channel]

[Directive 3: Upload coordinate data]

Simple, brutal, and completely devoid of aesthetics. It was indeed as Ashes said — "a deliberately simplified program."

"I'm in." Zhou Zhe said on the communication channel, "The structure is simpler than expected, but... there's an indescribable sense of weirdness."

Ashes' voice came through: "Watch the center point of the triangle. Usually, the core security lock of such directive structures is placed there."

Zhou Zhe focused. Sure enough, there was a tiny, almost invisible black dot in the center of the triangle. He touched it gently with his consciousness tentacles —

The black dot suddenly expanded.

It wasn't an explosion, but an unfolding.

Like a crumpled piece of paper suddenly smoothed out, the black dot became a complete, complex, layered rune matrix. A line of small text appeared in the center of the matrix:

[Verification Question: What is the one thing you regret the most?]

Zhou Zhe was stunned.

What kind of security lock was this? A philosophical quiz?

"It wants emotional verification." Stardust's voice rang directly in his consciousness, with a hint of playfulness, "Looks like the designer is a literary youth. Zhou Zhe, answer truthfully — but be careful, your answer might be used to counter-manipulate your emotions."

Zhou Zhe fell silent.

The thing he regretted most...

Many images flashed through his mind: the senior student he didn't dare to confess to in college due to cowardice, the first project he gave up on after starting work because of insufficient budget, and... the "rest well" he didn't get to say before the divine remains seed went dormant.

But finally, it settled on a simpler scene:

"What I regret most is..." Zhou Zhe said in his consciousness, "Once when my dad was hospitalized, I didn't stay to keep him company because I was rushing to meet a project deadline. Later he got better, but I can never make up for that absence."

No flowery rhetoric, just the most ordinary regret belonging to a wage slave.

The rune matrix went quiet for three seconds.

Then, all the nested structures lit up simultaneously, like a lit-up Christmas tree. The line of text in the center changed to:

[Verification passed. Answer keywords: family, absence, irreversible. Conforms to 'Humanity Baseline Template'.]

[Security lock disengaged. Mirror bridging permitted.]

The triangle began to rotate slowly, and each side extended tiny tentacles of data streams, actively connecting to the mirror circuit established by Zhou Zhe.

"Bridging successful!" β-2 reported in the real world, "The mark has started migrating to the mirror circuit, estimated total transfer time: twelve minutes."

In the surgical pod, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

But Ashes frowned. He stared at the waveform of the mark's migration on the monitoring screen and suddenly said: "Something's wrong. The migration speed is too fast — three times faster than normal. It is... actively cooperating with us?"

Before he finished speaking, a sudden change occurred.

The part of the mark that had already migrated into the mirror circuit suddenly self-replicated.

Not one copy, but thousands.

Countless rudimentary triangles proliferated wildly in the mirror circuit, instantly filling up all data channels. Alarm sounds rang through the surgical pod:

[Warning: Mirror circuit overloaded!]

[Warning: Unknown data stream reverse-invading the main control system!]

[Warning: Camouflage protocol detected — the surface structure of the mark is a decoy, high-order logic bomb hidden inside!]

"It's a trap!" Zhou Zhe wanted to disconnect, but it was too late. His consciousness was entangled by countless triangles, each one asking the same question:

[What is the one thing you regret the most?]

[What is the one thing you regret the most?]

[What is the one thing you regret the most?]

Repetitive, overlapping, resonant.

Zhou Zhe felt his memories being violently stirred, all the scenes of regret, guilt, and missed opportunities were forcibly dragged out and played on a loop in his consciousness. Even more terrifyingly, these questions began to tamper with the answers — his regret about his father earlier was twisted into "You hate your father for dragging down your career," and then this tampered answer in turn reinforced the mark's control.

A vicious cycle.

"He's on the verge of a consciousness collapse!" Ashes rushed to Zhou Zhe's side, fingers operating the medical instrument rapidly, "Prepare for emergency freezing — no, wait, the mark is already bound to his nerves, freezing will kill him along with it!"

Stardust's light band suddenly contracted, condensing into a humanoid shape: "Let me in."

"The risk is too high!" β-2 blocked, "The mark is in a berserk state, any external consciousness might be contaminated as well!"

"Then be more berserk than it." Stardust's starlight eyes were shockingly bright, "Zhou Zhe, can you hear me? Now, fight back in your most 'party b' way!"

Zhou Zhe struggled to focus in the consciousness storm: "What... way?"

"Curse at party a!" Stardust's voice was like a thunderclap, "Think about those requirements that were changed a hundred times! Think about those illogical deadlines! Think about those 'it doesn't feel right' feedback! Pour all your frustration, anger, and 'this job is impossible' emotions into the answer!"

Zhou Zhe paused for 0.1 seconds.

Then, he did it.

When the twenty-three-thousandth triangle asked him "What is the one thing you regret the most," he didn't recall warmth or regret anymore.

He used all his conscious power and roared back:

"The thing I regret most is taking on this shitty project! Unclear requirements, insufficient budget, and tight deadlines! party a is a stupid —"

He didn't finish the last word because all the triangles... froze.

Like a computer crashing, they froze in mid-air.

Then, they began to tremble, twist, and garbled text appeared on their surface:

[Emotional type recognition error...]

[Expected answer template: sadness / guilt / nostalgia...]

[Actual input: anger / ranting / workplace resentment...]

[Classification failed... Executing Plan B: Emotional overload self-destruct...]

Boom boom boom boom —

In the consciousness horizon, countless triangles shattered into fragments simultaneously.

It wasn't a physical explosion, but a logical collapse. They couldn't process the emotional input of "party b's Rage," which didn't fit the tragic template, so the safety protocols triggered a self-destruct.

In the mirror circuit, the data stream instantly cleared.

In the real world, the alarms on the monitoring screen extinguished one by one. The imprint migration progress bar dropped from 99% back to 0%, but a line of small text appeared beside it:

[Logic bomb cleared. Original imprint structure restored to safe state (inactive).]

The surgical pod was silent. Only the variations of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" continued to play softly.

Zhou Zhe opened his eyes abruptly, soaked in cold sweat. He looked at Stardust, his lips trembling: "That was..."

"You used workplace resentment to take down a cosmic-level trap." Stardust's starlight body returned to a ribbon of light, its tone full of gratification, "Excellent! This proves my theory—the rage of party b is the strongest weapon against traps set by pretentious youths."

Ashes quickly checked Wang Xiaohua's condition: "Imprint activity has dropped to an all-time low. The structure is intact, but all offensive protocols have been cleared. She is now... safe."

β-2 silently updated the database on the side, adding a new entry:

[Human Special Emotion Type #447: Workplace Resentment.]

[Attack Power Rating: S (Special attack against specific logical structures).]

[Application Suggestion: When encountering philosophical enemies, try triggering this form.]

At the same time, six light-years away from the Cradle.

Inside a Pruning Faction stealth scout ship, the operator looked at the suddenly disconnected signal, their face looking grim.

"The imprint's trap protocol was triggered... but it didn't kill the target; instead, it self-destructed." He turned to look at the black-robed figure behind him, "Sir, the Dragon Kingdom has defensive measures we are unaware of."

The black-robed figure was silent for a moment, their voice cold:

"It's not a defensive measure. It's emotional specialization—their civilization has evolved emotional response patterns we cannot predict. This is more dangerous than a technological breakthrough."

He turned and walked toward the communication room:

"Notify the excavation team at the 'Silent Reciter Ruins' to accelerate progress. We need more 'civilization relics' as test samples. If humans can crack logic bombs by 'scolding party a'... then we will use something older and even more incomprehensible to deal with them."

"For example?"

A low chuckle came from under the black robe:

"For example, the remains of a civilization that has completely lost even the ability to feel 'rage' and is utterly desperate."

Cradle, surgical pod aftermath.

Zhou Zhe was sent to rest, and Wang Xiaohua was transferred to an observation period. Stardust and Ashes remained in the surgical pod to conduct follow-up analysis.

"The designer of the imprint clearly has a stereotypical view of human emotions." Ashes pulled up the structural diagram, "All the response traps it preset were based on the 'sadness-guilt-nostalgia' tragic triangle. It completely failed to anticipate that a civilization would use 'workplace venting' as an emotional defense."

"Because most advanced civilizations no longer need 'workplaces'." Stardust floated to the coffee machine and used starlight to simulate the action of pouring coffee—though it couldn't drink, "They are either highly automated, have directly fused consciousnesses, or are trapped in infinite analysis like the Silent Reciters. Only a civilization like humanity... that still retains the primitive production relations of 'scrambling for a living', would give birth to such fierce 'Power of party b'."

"Is that an advantage or a defect?"

"Both." Stardust took a sip of virtual coffee, "The defect is that you live very tiring lives, and the advantage is... when those old fossils living in the clouds try to make things difficult for you with philosophical questions, you can slap them back and say, 'Cut the crap, send me the requirements document first'."

The corner of Ashes' mouth twitched again. This time the arc was a bit more obvious: "The Executive Court should introduce this kind of training."

At this moment, β-2's projection suddenly flickered: "Emergency notice: The logistics department reports an abnormal loss in the cafeteria's potato inventory. In the past twenty-four hours, 1.5 tons of the 3-ton reserve of potatoes have disappeared. Monitoring has detected no signs of theft."

Stardust and Ashes exchanged a look.

"Potatoes... grew legs and ran away?" Stardust tilted its head.

"The probability is very low." β-2 pulled up the surveillance footage, "But what's even stranger is that the missing potatoes are all of the same variety—'Dragon Kingdom Red-Skinned Potato', while other ingredients remain untouched. Additionally, the eighth-floor plant laboratory reports that their experimental potato plants have also shown abnormal growth, at thirty times the normal rate."

Ashes frowned: "Take me to see it."

Eighth-floor plant laboratory.

The scene before them stunned everyone.

In the experimental tanks, the potato plants had grown into... a forest.

It wasn't a metaphor; it was a real forest. Potato vines covered the entire laboratory's walls and ceiling, with tubers hanging like lanterns, each the size of a watermelon. Even more eerie was that fine, silver patterns appeared on the surface of these potatoes—identical to the resonance network patterns of the Cradle's ecology.

"They... are resonating with the Cradle network." β-2 concluded after scanning, "The potato plants inadvertently connected to the edge nodes of the green soil ecosystem, gaining excessive growth energy. And those missing reserve potatoes were attracted by this resonance and spontaneously 'rolled' over to join the collective."

Stardust floated to a watermelon-sized potato and poked it with a starlight finger: "So, the first internal crisis we face is... a potato uprising?"

The laboratory manager, a young researcher, was on the verge of tears: "We tried to cut off the energy, but the potato roots have already penetrated the circulation system. Forcibly removing them might damage the Cradle's ecological balance."

Ashes crouched down and picked up a small piece of fallen silver potato skin: "These patterns... I've seen them."

"Where?"

"In the Executive Court's archives." Ashes stood up, his expression grave, "Three thousand years ago, a plant symbiotic civilization called the 'mother of abundance' once used similar technology to transform an entire planet into a living ecosystem. They were eventually ruled an 'ecological hazard' by the Covenant Network due to over-expansion and were subjected to civilization isolation."

He looked at the frantically growing potatoes: "This might be the technological remnants of the 'mother of abundance', which contaminated your potato gene pool through some method. But why is it erupting only now?"

Stardust suddenly clapped its hands (starlight splattered): "I remember now! The core of the green soil ecological network was optimized with the help of the divine remains seed. And that child, the divine remains... seemed to have a good relationship with the 'mother of abundance' when it was alive. It might have unconsciously mixed in its old friend's technical preferences during the optimization."

"So this is a 'gift' from the divine remains?" Zhou Zhe appeared at the doorway at some point, his face still a bit pale, but his eyes bright, "An inheritance... that knows how to farm?"

"It's more like it stuffed the user manual for 'how to be friends with plants' into the underlying code of the ecological network." Stardust put a hand to its forehead, "Now the potatoes think they are the masters of the Cradle and are planning to start renovations."

β-2: "Do you need to draft 'Potato Control Regulations'? I can draft them."

Chu Yunshen's voice came through the communication channel, sounding tired: "Forget the regulations for now—the cafeteria chef just complained that the remaining potatoes have started peeling themselves and jumping into the soup pot, demanding 'labor rights protection'. How should we respond?"

Everyone was silent.

Then, Stardust was the first to laugh out loud.

Then Zhou Zhe, and then Ashes—although he only let his shoulders shake.

Finally, even β-2's projection simulated the action of "covering its mouth to laugh".

"Is this the daily life of cohabiting with human civilization?" Ashes shook his head, the scar stretching with his smile, "One second dismantling a cosmic-level logic bomb, the next second mediating a labor dispute for potatoes."

Stardust floated toward the door, its starlight dragging out a cheerful trail:

"Let's go, to the cafeteria. Let us talk properly about salary and benefits with these self-aware potatoes."

"After all—"

He turned back, his eyes like stars:

"In the eyes of a party b civilization, even if party a is a potato, it still has to sit down and align the requirements."