219: Chapter 218 Five Thousand Years in a Dream, The Secret Language of the Hive and the Eternal Question of Hot and Sour Noodles
The Legacy of Meaning Digitalization Center, originally a large data server room, had now been transformed into a strange space where light and rhythm intertwined.
Three hundred and sixty quantum servers were arranged in a circular array. Atop each server hovered a specialized 'Meaning Rune Generator'—a small device combining Emotional Poetics Technology with the resonance principles of green soil. It could convert input cultural materials into basic 'Meaning Runes' available for Zhou Zhe's 'Rhythmic Weaving.'
Zhou Zhe sat on a semi-transparent platform in the center of the array, his Poem Markings operating at full capacity. Silver-white light spots flowed like a galaxy, establishing subtle 'Rhythmic Links' with the three hundred and sixty rune generators around him. His task was to take the legacy of meaning accumulated over five thousand years of human civilization—from the 'Classic of Poetry' to 'The Three-Body Problem,' from the Terracotta Army to the Potato Museum design drafts, from the Pythagorean theorem to quantum entanglement equations, from 'Before my bed a pool of light' to Great Strength's 'Truth Chili Sauce' recipe—and 'perceive,' 'analyze,' and guide the rune generators to encode them into basic 'Meaning Runes' for storage in the underlying database of the 'Civilization Meaning Archive.'
This was an unprecedented task, vast as the sea.
"'Classic of Poetry,' three hundred and five pieces; two hundred and seventeen completed," Beta-2's report echoed in Zhou Zhe's consciousness. "The average complexity of the 'Meaning Runes' generated per piece is level 7.3 (out of 10). Pieces like 'Guan Ju' and 'Jian Jia' reached level 9.1 due to their extremely high layers of emotion and density of imagery. It is recommended to prioritize high-complexity materials to enrich the 'texture' of the rune library."
Zhou Zhe nodded slightly and locked his consciousness onto the next piece—'Li Sao.' As he touched this magnificent poem from twenty-three hundred years ago, its splendid imagination, surging emotions, and profound philosophy caused his Poem Markings to vibrate violently. He felt as if he had fallen into a vast galaxy woven of fragrant herbs, beautiful women, myths, and tragic indignation. Every line of the poem was an independent star, and his job was to find the 'Rhythmic Connections' between these stars and weave them into a complete 'Meaning Star Map.'
Time became blurred in his perception. When he finally converted 'Li Sao' into a set of 'Meaning Runes' with a complexity as high as 9.8, six hours of real time had passed. He opened his eyes, his body soaked in sweat, but the silver-white light in his eyes seemed to have deepened a bit more.
"Rest," Lin Shen's voice came through the communicator, brook no argument. "The 'Hub' needs to operate, but the 'Hub' also needs maintenance."
Zhou Zhe wanted to say something, but his body was more honest than his consciousness—as soon as he stood up, he stumbled and was caught by medical staff who had been waiting.
"I... can still hold on," he muttered.
"We know you can hold on," Lin Shen's voice softened slightly. "But we need you to hold on for fifty years, not five days. Go to sleep. Continue tomorrow."
Mars orbit, 'Kunlun' Station.
A more subtle and dangerous experiment was underway—the first pilot of the Collective Subconscious Resonance Network.
Pilot subjects: All members of the Mars engineering team (87 people in total). Pilot method: Utilizing the green soil experimental module of the 'Kunlun' Station, with Zhou Zhe's remote assistance, an attempt was made to construct a station-wide, ultra-low-intensity 'Collective Subconscious Resonance Layer.' The goal was not to control or read thoughts, but to allow the outermost layers of everyone's subconscious to produce a weak 'resonance' under the premise of being 'voluntary and informed,' in order to enhance the group's 'synergy efficiency of the sense of meaning' when facing long-term isolation and pressure.
To put it simply, it was a glimmering version of letting everyone 'dream the same dream.'
Before the pilot, everyone signed an informed consent form thirty pages thick and had the right to withdraw at any time. Beta-2's monitoring system ran throughout the process, ensuring any abnormality could be immediately interrupted.
The pilot took place during sleep hours. Once all participants entered REM sleep, Zhou Zhe remotely activated an extremely gentle 'Resonance Pulse.'
The effect was subtle yet astonishing.
The next morning in the cafeteria, people discussed last night's dreams in small groups. One engineer said he dreamed of watching the stars with his grandfather as a child, and his grandfather pointed at the Milky Way and said, 'Maybe someone is there.' A female doctor said she dreamed of running in a golden wheat field, the rustling of the wheat sounding exactly like the breathing of the Cradle. A young operator blushed and refused to speak, only admitting after being pressed by companions that he dreamed of growing an apple tree on Mars, but the apples on the tree were all shaped like potatoes.
"That's not collective subconscious; that's collective 'having weird dreams,'" someone joked.
But Beta-2's data showed that during the period the resonance pulse was active, the brainwaves of the 87 people did indeed show a weak 'synchronous oscillation' phenomenon, especially in brain regions related to 'sense of belonging,' 'sense of security,' and 'meaning of existence.' More notably, the group's work efficiency this morning increased by 12% compared to the baseline, while the 'Sense of Meaning Index' (based on emotional fluctuations and focus during work) increased by 17%.
The pilot was a preliminary success. Although still far from a true 'Collective Subconscious Resonance Network,' it at least proved that the direction was correct.
Hive peripheral monitoring outpost, 'shadow vessel' scout ship.
Zhao Yan and Ashes had been on watch for four consecutive days. After completing that 'blink,' the Hive's 'Eye' had returned to a state of silent staring, with no further abnormalities. But Ashes insisted that the 83% of unknown signal patterns recorded during the 'blink' must be analyzed—even if only partially.
"It is communicating in a 'language' we cannot understand," Ashes' eyes were as dark as an abyss. "This language might not be based on information, but on 'states of existence'—just as your potato fields use 'chorus' to express existence, the Hive is using the 'manner' of the 'blink' rather than its 'content' to convey information."
"The 'manner' of the blink?" Zhao Yan frowned.
"Duration. Frequency. Offset angle. The shape of the accompanying energy consumption curve." Ashes pulled up a series of complex data charts. "These 'meta-parameters' might be the real 'information.' Just like human language, the same sentence spoken with different tones has a completely different meaning."
After four days and nights of analysis, they finally extracted a set of minimalist, preliminarily interpretable 'information fragments' from the 'meta-parameters' of that 'blink':
[Receipt confirmed.]
[Awaiting instructions.]
[Target (Mars Potato Field) status: Abnormal. Indigestible. Learning in progress.]
[Request: Extend observation period.]
[Request: Maintain silence before 'Pre-audit' begins.]
Zhao Yan's breath hitched. "It's... reporting to the Reapers? Requesting an 'extended observation period'? 'Awaiting instructions'?"
Ashes was silent for a long time before saying in a raspy voice, "The Hive might not be a 'weapon' or 'servant' of the Reapers. It's more like a... 'scout' or 'pre-observation station.' Its task is to understand the nature, weaknesses, and 'value' of the target civilization before the Reapers arrive. Our previous battle with it, in its view, was not a 'war' but 'data collection.' Its 'learning' is not tactical adjustment, but... 'due diligence.'"
"So, when the Reapers arrive, they will already know us inside out?" Zhao Yan felt a wave of powerlessness.
"Not necessarily," Ashes shook his head. "'Learning' is two-way. We are also learning about it. More importantly, our 'abnormalities'—the things it cannot digest and must 'extend observation' for—might be the biggest variables in the Reapers' 'Pre-audit.' The more they 'understand' us, the more they will find that we do not fit any known 'civilization classification' of theirs."
Cafeteria.
At dinner time, the room was noisy. The mashed potatoes had been replaced by a new item called 'Galaxy Fried Rice'—seasoned with simulated Earth ingredients and a few 'Stardust' elements, the rice grains were distinct, and the side dishes were improved vegetables from the green soil experimental zone. It was said that when eating it, one could vaguely feel 'starlight blooming on the tip of the tongue.'
In the queue, two young researchers spoke in low voices.
"Do you think that in 50 years, we'll still be able to line up for food here?"
"I don't know. Maybe on Mars, maybe on another planet."
"I mean, will we... still be alive?"
Silence for a few seconds. The other voice spoke, with a hint of uncertainty but more stubbornness:
"I don't know. But even if we aren't, the taste of this fried rice should still be around, right? Beta-2 definitely backed up Great Strength's recipe. People 50 years from now will still be able to eat it."
"Then when they eat it, will they think of us?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. But when they eat it, they'll think it's delicious. They'll temporarily forget their troubles. They'll... well... 'exist' for a little while. That's enough, isn't it?"
The line moved forward slowly. The two stopped talking, focusing intently on the steaming plates of 'Galaxy Fried Rice' in the window.
Great Strength heard this conversation in the kitchen. His stir-frying motion paused for a moment, then continued. He decided that tomorrow he would develop a new dish called 'Fifty-Year Aged Hot and Sour Rice Noodles Pre-research Version.' Although there was no aging yet, he could first mix a 'taste one hopes to still eat 50 years from now.'
Beta-2's camera recorded all of this. In its log, a new line of data was added:
[Observation Subject: Human group. Phenomenon: When facing a civilization-level threat, individuals can still discuss the taste of food 50 years in the future and gain a weak but real 'sense of confirmation of existence' from it. Conclusion: This phenomenon fits the theoretical model of 'micro-meaning resisting nothingness.' Record archived.]
Late at night, Zhou Zhe woke from a brief sleep, the pinch of Mars commemorative soil on his chest feeling slightly warm. He walked to the window, looking into the depths of the starry sky.
The Hive's 'Eye' was still staring. In the further darkness, the Reapers were on their way.
But he was no longer just afraid. He knew that the meaning of five thousand years of civilization was being encoded into light; the dreams of eighty-seven people had just rippled with their first resonance; hidden in the Hive's 'secret language' was a request for 'extended observation'; the aroma of fried rice from the cafeteria was curling up, drifting into the conversation of two young researchers.
He gently stroked the soil on his chest, the silver-white Poem Markings flowing quietly in the night.
"Fifty years," he said softly. "It's enough."