8: Chapter 8 The Beginning of the Plan

5:00 PM.

The fluorescent lights in the interrogation room emitted a faint hum of electric current, sounding like a fly that would never fly away.

Chen Mu kept his eyes closed. The collar of his grey-green jacket rubbed against the back of his neck, making him feel itchy.

In the corner of his vision, numbers were ticking upward.

[Current fear value: 1409]

Ten minutes ago, the fear value had begun to climb by dozens and hundreds at a time.

He did a quick calculation in his head.

The Times Square incident had given him a peak fear value of just over a hundred thousand.

Back then, at Manhattan's busiest intersection, he had sabotaged a fountain and made the water form a line of text sixty feet in the night sky, crashing down in front of hundreds of cell phones and going viral on social media.

But now, he had arranged a non-existent alien fleet at the edge of the Solar System. They were arrayed in formation within the darkness of the Kuiper Belt, constantly decelerating as they advanced toward Earth's orbit.

Observatories all over the world were watching them; governments all over the world were holding meetings because of them.

Yet the growth of the fear value was still inferior to that of the Times Square incident.

By headcount, the people who currently knew about the alien fleet should include heads of state, Secretaries of Defense, generals, intelligence directors, astronomers, and military analysts—totaling no more than a few thousand people.

However, the audience for the Times Square incident had been in the hundreds of thousands.

This proved that in the system's algorithm, the fear of a few thousand of the most powerful people on Earth and the shock of tens of millions of ordinary people were treated exactly the same.

The system didn't care about your status; it only cared about whether you were startled.

Everyone is equal before fear—this was perhaps the only fair thing in this shitty world.

The numbers were still jumping, but it was far from enough. He had spent a hundred thousand to rent the illusion, but it would only last 24 hours.

If governments forcibly blocked the news and suppressed the matter before time ran out, then his expenditure of fear value would essentially be for nothing. His entire plan would go bankrupt, and he would have to start all over again.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Chen Mu opened his eyes.

Thompson walked in holding a cup of coffee, followed by Maya, whose expression looked somewhat weary.

Thompson pulled out a chair and sat down, placing the coffee on the table. "Hey, buddy, are you more awake now? Can you tell us how you sabotaged the fountain yet?"

Chen Mu's stomach growled.

The rumble sounded exceptionally loud in the quiet interrogation room. He hadn't eaten for nearly fourteen hours; his last meal had been a relief meal at a church.

Thompson glanced down at Chen Mu's stomach, then looked up at his face and smiled with satisfaction. Clearly, as a veteran cop, he believed his strategy was working.

Chen Mu remained expressionless. "I've already said everything I need to say. I came to Blue Star to negotiate with you. Please call for your species' decision-makers."

His stomach growled again.

Thompson took a sip of his coffee. "It seems even aliens need to eat."

He put down the paper cup and leaned back against the chair. "Buddy, the sooner you confess, the sooner we can get off work. You'll also get to enjoy your dinner in prison sooner. The meatloaf in prison might taste bad, but at least it's warm."

Chen Mu looked at him with a calm gaze. "Ignorant human, I hope that in another twenty-four hours, you will still be able to say those words."

Thompson shrugged. "Then let's just keep wasting time here."

He raised his coffee cup in a toasting gesture. "I'm not hungry, anyway."

Maya hadn't spoken the whole time. She sat next to Thompson with her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze moving back and forth between Chen Mu and the one-way glass.

Although she was a rookie, she had seen plenty of suspects, but Chen Mu's behavior was far too calm—it was as if he truly believed he was an alien.

In reality, this was Chen Mu's strategy. After all, this plan would likely face many psychological experts on Blue Star in the future.

Therefore, to maintain his composure, he had specifically rented F-rank Micro-expression Control to ensure no one could read any information from his face.

[Item Name: Micro-expression Control (F-rank)]

[Theme: Alien Invasion]

[Basic Ability: Grants the host complete control over human micro-expressions.]

[Allows the forty-three facial muscles to be presented in any combination under any circumstances, accurately conveying or hiding any emotion.]

[Price: 10,000 fear value for permanent purchase, 1,000 fear value for a single rental.]

"Thompson," Maya spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"Are we taking this too far? If the internal affairs department finds out..."

Thompson waved his hand, not letting her finish. "Maya, I've seen plenty of vagrants like this."

He put down his coffee cup and turned to look at her. "Don't worry, nobody cares if he lives or dies. Let him confess early so you can go home and be with your family, right? Isn't it your sister's birthday today?"

Maya's expression shifted slightly. Her fifteen-year-old sister's birthday was indeed today. She had promised to be home by 7:00 PM, and the cake—her sister's favorite strawberry flavor—had already been ordered.

But now she was still sitting in an interrogation room, questioning a vagrant about why he sabotaged a fountain.

Her phone vibrated.

Maya pulled her phone from her pocket. On the screen was a push notification: A person you follow has posted a tweet.

She didn't follow many people, but the President was one of them—not because she supported him, but for work purposes.

The NYPD required all detectives to follow high-level government social media accounts to stay informed about developments that might affect public safety.

She clicked on President Trump's tweet and read it twice carefully. "President Trump says that an unknown presence from a distant galaxy is approaching our planet."

She turned the phone toward Thompson. "Look."

Thompson took the phone, glanced at it, then handed it back to Maya and took another sip of his coffee.

"He's full of shit."

He set the paper cup down on the table with a thud. "He's definitely changing the subject because of the recent stuff in the Middle East. The thing I regret most in my life is voting for him just for a thousand-dollar bonus."

Maya didn't put the phone away. She looked at the lines of text on the screen, then looked at Chen Mu.

Chen Mu was also looking at her, but his expression remained unchanged.

"But this is a national address," Maya's voice held a hint of uncertainty. "No matter how unreliable President Trump is, he wouldn't joke about this, would he?"

Thompson gave a cold laugh. "There's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

He swirled his coffee cup. "Hasn't that old bastard given us enough 'firsts' already? The first president who was a reality show host. The first to fire a cabinet member via Twitter. The first to suggest throwing a nuke into a hurricane. The first..."

"Enough,"

Maya interrupted him. She looked at the phone screen, then at Chen Mu, and then she made a decision. "Let's get him something to eat."

She tucked her phone back into her pocket. "Even if he's not an alien, letting someone go hungry is ultimately a violation of humanitarianism."

Thompson spread his hands. "Suit yourself. The cafeteria is closed now, so you'll have to pay out of your own pocket to feed him."

Maya stood up and walked over to Chen Mu, maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far. Chen Mu could even smell the scent of laundry detergent on her.

Maya said gently, "Sir, what would you like to eat?"