## **Chapter 1: Code in the Rust**
The marks on the hairpin were like a dark, unfathomable door, opening into a deep abyss of mystery.
Chen Mo had not slept all night. At four in the morning, he knocked on Old Zhao's door, carrying the hairpin, the birthday card, and the plastic star. Old Zhao was a regular at the "Memory Workshop," a retired analyst from a materials research institute who always said he remembered a son who died in a lab accident.
"Take a look at this." Chen Mo handed over the hairpin, focusing a flashlight beam on the clasp.
Old Zhao took it, examined it with his naked eye for a moment, then pulled a portable high-powered microscope from a deep drawer. He peered through it, silent for several minutes, his breathing loud in the quiet room.
"This isn't rust," Old Zhao finally spoke, his voice dry. "Nor is it ordinary industrial marking. This is **nano-scale laser etching**, with precision down to the sub-micron level. Do you know what that means?"
Chen Mo shook his head.
"This level of precision is typically used in high-end chip manufacturing, biological sample tracking, or... the management of precision weapon components." Old Zhao pointed at the microscope eyepiece. "Look at this matrix pattern. It's not decoration; it's code. The first few sections denote material type and source classification, the middle is location and date codes, the last few..." He paused. "...look like a set of priority or risk assessment codes."
"Risk assessment?" Chen Mo's heart tightened.
"Yes." Old Zhao adjusted the focus. "See these last few dot clusters. According to a certain internal standard I'm familiar with, this corresponds to 'Low Risk - Observation Retention.' Meaning, the system that scanned this item assessed it as 'low threat, can be retained as an observation sample.'"
"And if... high risk?"
Old Zhao was silent for a beat, then looked up, his eyes behind the lenses complex. "Then it wouldn't be in your hands. High-risk items are either more thoroughly destroyed, or... 'recycled' for other purposes."
Chen Mo felt his mouth go dry. The system didn't just erase; it **assessed**. It was like an invisible net, scanning every corner of the world, deciding not only which memories needed to vanish but also which "evidence" could remain, and for what purpose.
"Can we trace who did this? What kind of equipment can produce it?" Chen Mo pressed.
"Difficult," Old Zhao shook his head. "Very few organizations have this technical capability. Globally, lasers that can produce etching of this precision are mainly held by a handful of top-tier precision instrument companies. But these companies typically only sell to specific clients—large research institutions, the military, and... certain authorized biotech giants."
Biotech. The word made Chen Mo think of the hospital, of Miao Miao's medical records.
"Would hospitals use this technology? For tracking samples, perhaps?"
"Possibly," Old Zhao mused. "High-end medical research institutions, especially those dealing with genetic samples or infectious pathogens, use similar tech to label sample tubes, slides, ensuring traceability and safety classification."
Chen Mo thought of Miao Miao. Of the scar on her knee, stitched at the City Children's Hospital. Of all the missing medical records.
Hospital. System.
"Old Zhao, I need your help," Chen Mo said. "I need to know which institutions in this city are most likely to use this technology."
Old Zhao looked at Chen Mo's bloodshot eyes and sighed. "I'll try. But I must warn you, son, chasing this kind of thing... it's like groping for high-voltage wires in the dark. You don't know when you'll touch one, let alone what the consequence will be."
Chen Mo nodded. "I know. But my daughter might be on the other side of that wire."
## **Chapter 2: Ghosts in Old Files**
For the next three days, Chen Mo buried himself in the yellowing stacks of the Municipal Archives. Using the pretext of writing an amateur article on "The City's Digitalization Process," he requested access to municipal engineering archives from twenty years ago—the key period when the National Health Chip was being promoted.
In the dust-filled archive room, he paged through faded meeting minutes, tender documents, contract copies. Most were dull: server procurement lists, network deployment plans, software licensing agreements...
Until, among a pile of "Security Protocol Addendum" attachments, he saw the document titled: National Health Network Phase 3 Expansion - Data Security and Emergency Response Plan
Three signatories: the City Health Bureau, the primary contractor "Huaxia Digital Technology Co., Ltd.," and a company listed as the "Data Security Architecture Consultant"—
**Prometheus Biotech.**
The contract body was filled with boilerplate: "ensure data integrity," "establish emergency response mechanisms," "safeguard public health security." But in Appendix 7, Clause 3.2, was a line of almost microscopic, easily overlooked print:
"...in the event of a 'Targeted Public Health Incident' as defined in Protocol Annex G, Party A (City Health Bureau) authorizes Party B (Prometheus) to initiate emergency response protocols, utilizing 'Field 7-C' elevated permissions to perform synchronized consistency revisions on relevant data streams, in order to maintain the overall data health of the network..."
Chen Mo read it three times, a chill running down his spine.
Field 7-C permissions. Synchronized consistency revisions. Overall data health of the network.
These cold terms perfectly explained his ordeal: Lin Xiao's and Miao Miao's data had been "revised" out of the "network" to achieve some "overall data health." And was a "Targeted Public Health Incident" what defined them as "data anomalies" needing to be excised?
He turned to Protocol Annex G, looking for the definition of "Targeted Public Health Incident." But that page... was torn out. The tear was old, not recent.
Prometheus Biotech. This name now entered his view formally, laden with ominous meaning.
## **Chapter 3: Cracks in the Alliance**
Chen Mo brought his discovery back to the basement beneath Xiao Yu's grandmother's house—the new secret meeting place for their Saturday afternoons since the "Memory Workshop" disbanded. It temporarily housed all the memory artworks moved from the workshop.
After hearing Chen Mo's account and seeing Old Zhao's analysis of the etchings, a long silence fell over the basement. Only the faint hum of a dim yellow bulb broke the quiet.
"So..." said Sister Li, the woman who remembered the firefighter who saved her, her voice trembling. "The firefighter wasn't burned beyond recognition saving me... he was 'cleaned up'? Because he was exposed to some... 'contamination'? So even my memory had to be corrected?"
"Old Zhao," Xiao Wu, the college student who "fantasized" about having a twin brother, looked at the old man. "Your son's lab accident years ago... if it was also because he was flagged for 'abnormal gene expression'..."
Old Zhao's face turned ashen, his fingers rubbing his son's old wristwatch. "He studied radiation biophysics... it was a minor isotope leak, low-level exposure, and he recovered quickly. The unit said he was transferred to another city, and later... news came of his death from illness. But if his very existence was erased..." He took a deep breath. "Then it might not have been an illness, but a 'disposal.'"
"What are they so afraid of?" Jiang Shuping, Xiao Yu's grandmother, hugged her granddaughter tightly, her voice a mix of anger and fear. "What kind of 'contamination' is so terrifying it requires tearing families apart, making children forget their parents, even wiping people from the face of the earth?"
"I don't know," Chen Mo answered honestly, clutching the photocopy of the security protocol. "But the protocol mentions 'public health events.' Maybe in 'their' eyes, certain genetic information, or the memories associated with it... are themselves a kind of 'virus' that needs to be quarantined, a 'source of infection' on the data level."
"So what does that make us?" Xiao Wu's voice rose, edged with self-mockery. "Infected data packets? Virus-carrying storage units?"
"Very likely," Chen Mo said, looking at the silent handmade artworks on the wall. "We remember people we shouldn't. Our memories are 'redundant data,' 'erroneous information,' needing to be cleaned or overwritten. But now we have these." He held up the etched items. "They left traces. Maybe an oversight, maybe they deemed us insignificant, or maybe... it was intentional. But regardless, we can use these traces to find their source."
"How?" Sister Li asked.
"Start with the medical system," Chen Mo's thoughts crystallized under pressure. "If Miao Miao was flagged for some 'abnormal gene expression,' there must be a starting point—a physical, a blood test, a pediatric check-up. Lin Xiao might have been flagged by association due to close contact. I need to check all their medical records from recent years."
"Those records were deleted long ago, weren't they?" Old Zhao reminded him. "They'd be gone from the official systems."
"The electronic ones are gone, but there might be marginal backups, or... non-electronic records." Chen Mo remembered someone. "When Miao Miao hurt her knee last year, she got stitches at the City Children's Hospital ER. I remember the nurse on duty that night; she praised Miao Miao for being brave and gave her a sticker. If I go find her, ask in person..."
"Too risky," Jiang Shuping objected immediately. "If the hospital system is also monitored, your inquiry could trigger an alarm, exposing you and possibly endangering that nurse."
"So we can't ask directly," Chen Mo said. "I need a non-suspicious reason to approach someone who might know, or... find records outside the system."
"I have an idea," Xiao Yu spoke up. The twelve-year-old girl had a calmness in her eyes beyond her years. "Uncle Chen, you said Miao Miao hurt her knee at the Children's Hospital. I had asthma when I was little, and spent hours there getting nebulizer treatments. I know there's an old building behind the hospital with a disused archive room for paper medical records. It's been abandoned for years, but maybe not everything was destroyed. The guard, Grandpa Sun... I know him."
Everyone looked at her.
"How do you know him?" her grandmother asked, surprised.
"When I was little and waiting for Mom to get medicine, I got bored and would wander around the back," Xiao Yu explained. "That grandpa was all alone with stacks of old boxes, very lonely. I helped him pick up dropped file folders sometimes; he'd give me candy and tell me stories. After I got better, I stopped going. But last year when I passed by, I still saw him sitting by the door, sunning himself. He should still be there."
Abandoned archive room. Paper records. A corner that might not be connected, existing at the edge of the system.
"It's still a significant risk," Old Zhao pondered. "But if there really are un-digitized old records there, it might be a path. More discreet than directly querying a connected system."
"Xiao Yu and I will go," Chen Mo decided. "We'll pretend she's having a follow-up for her old condition and visiting the old man. Auntie Jiang, can you get us a copy of Xiao Yu's old asthma records as cover?"
Jiang Shuping hesitated, looked at the hope in Xiao Yu's eyes, and finally nodded. "I'll look for them. But you must promise Xiao Yu's safety. Don't let her take any risks."
"I promise with everything I have," Chen Mo said solemnly.
## **Chapter 4: Punctum in the Records**
The old building behind the Children's Hospital was covered in withered vines, a forgotten corner out of sync with the sleek outpatient building in front. Xiao Yu led Chen Mo familiarly around a side door to a rusted iron gate.
It was ajar. Old opera music drifted out from a radio inside. Xiao Yu knocked.
"Who is it?" a hoarse, heavily accented voice called.
"Grandpa Sun, it's me, Xiao Yu." She pushed the door open.
Inside was a room crammed with cardboard boxes and folders, dimly lit, smelling of dust and old, musty paper. A gray-haired, slightly stooped old man looked up from behind a stack of records, squinted for a few seconds, then broke into a delighted smile.
"Xiao Yu? Is that really you? You've grown so tall! Come in, come in!" Grandpa Sun was warm. Seeing Chen Mo, he paused. "And this is...?"
"My uncle," Xiao Yu said naturally, handing over a bag of fruit. "He's with me for my appointment. We thought we'd visit you. You haven't been out sunning yourself lately?"
"Ah, sunning... too busy," Grandpa Sun sighed, gesturing at the mountains of files. "The main building is expanding; this land needs to be cleared. These old relics are supposed to be scanned and archived electronically, but after all these years, it's not done. Now the higher-ups are pushing to clear them out. How can an old man like me manage?"
Chen Mo's heart quickened. He looked at the dusty file folders, some with handwritten dates going back two or three decades. This was indeed a dead zone of the information world, an island not fully submerged by the data wave.
"Grandpa Sun, could you... find my old medical records here?" Xiao Yu asked, following the plan. "My mom said my childhood records might be useful for my treatment now. We'd like a copy."
"What's your full name? Year of birth?" Grandpa Sun shuffled over to a shelf labeled "Pediatric Internal Medicine - 20XX-20XX."
"Jiang Yu, born 20XX."
The old man searched. Chen Mo used the chance to observe. No cameras, no computer terminals, just an old radio and a dim incandescent bulb. The walls were peeling, wires exposed. This place was clearly long forgotten.
"Here, not much, just a few nebulizer records." Grandpa Sun pulled out a thin folder and handed it to Xiao Yu.
Xiao Yu took it, glanced through, and gave Chen Mo a look. Chen Mo stepped forward, casual. "Uncle Sun, my niece had an ER visit here last year too, a knee injury. Wondering if there might be a paper record? We'd like to see the doctor's notes; her knee's been bothering her a bit lately."
"Last year? That should've been digitized long ago. Paper ones usually aren't kept." Grandpa Sun shook his head, sitting back in his worn rattan chair.
"Maybe the ER was too busy and still scribbled a temporary paper record?" Chen Mo persisted. "Name is Chen Miao Miao, four years old, around... May last year, evening."
Grandpa Sun frowned, tapping his knee as if searching his memory. "Chen Miao Miao... sounds familiar. Wait, let me think..." He got up, walked to another corner with newer-looking folders. "Temporary handwritten ER records sometimes pile up before they're entered into the system. Sometimes nurses forget, or the handwriting's too messy for the data entry people... they get left here, unattended... May last year..."
He rummaged, raising dust. Chen Mo's heart was in his throat, his palms sweaty.
"Is this it?" Grandpa Sun pulled out a light blue cardboard file folder, its cover handwritten: "ER Temporary Records - May-June 20XX."
Chen Mo took it, his hands trembling slightly. He flipped through quickly. In the middle, he saw a familiar name. **Chen Miao Miao, Female, 4yo, Laceration left knee, debridement & sutures...** The notes were brief, but at the end was a line in different, slightly sloppier handwriting:
**"Family requested to retain suture sample as keepsake, separately stored in Pediatric Surgery sample cabinet. Note: CBC shows abnormal WBC differential, low lymphocyte count. Reported per internal protocol to Pediatrics Health Dept. and Special Screening Team for follow-up."**
Abnormal CBC. Reported to Special Screening Team for follow-up.
Special Screening Team.
This was it.
"Uncle Sun, what's this 'Special Screening Team' at the end?" Chen Mo pointed, trying to keep his voice steady.
Grandpa Sun leaned close, squinting. "Not sure. Might be some special screening group under Pediatrics Health. Lots of new terms these years. But this part is crossed out a bit..." He scraped his nail over a smudged part after that line. "Originally, it didn't seem to say 'follow-up'... more like 'assessment' or 'intervention'... can't remember clearly, my old eyes are failing."
A chill ran through Chen Mo. "Special Screening Team"—a name that sounded ordinary yet sinister.
"Can I... photocopy this page?" Chen Mo asked.
Grandpa Sun looked at him, then at the quiet Xiao Yu beside him, and sighed, pulling an old photocopier from a drawer. "Go ahead. These are all destined for the shredder sooner or later. But..." He lowered his voice, his eyes both cloudy and knowing. "Girl, your uncle isn't just looking for this because of a knee, is he?"
Chen Mo tensed.
Grandpa Sun waved a hand, looking out the window. "I've sat here almost twenty years, seen a lot. Some kids came for treatment, then never appeared on follow-up lists again. When asked, they'd say transferred, moved away, or... simply say there's no such person. In these piles of paper, there might be many such 'vanished people' buried." He turned back, his gaze at Chen Mo complex. "Son, be careful. Some things, knowing isn't necessarily a blessing. These days... some lines, better not to cross."
Chen Mo nodded gravely. "Thank you, Uncle Sun. We won't cause you any trouble."
They left the archive room as dusk approached. Chen Mo clutched the page, still warm from the copier, feeling its immense weight, its searing heat.
Abnormal blood test. Reported to Special Screening Team.
Miao Miao, what secret is hidden in your little body that makes "them" go to such lengths, erasing you from the world completely?
## **Chapter 5: Phantom of the Special Screening Team**
The term "Special Screening Team" sent faint ripples through Old Zhao's old network of contacts in the medical system. After much effort, he reached a retired former official from the Health Commission. After repeated assurances of confidentiality, the person revealed a near-rumor:
About five or six years ago, an informal "Special Child Health Screening Liaison Group" was indeed formed within the health system. Nominally, it was for early detection and intervention of rare genetic diseases and immune deficiencies, led by pediatrics departments of several major hospitals and coordinated by the City Child Health Center. The odd thing was, this group didn't interface directly with patients or parents. It only received cases of "specific indicator abnormalities" reported by hospitals, then issued notices "recommending referral to cooperating units for in-depth examination." The destinations and outcomes of these referrals were often unknown to the reporting hospitals.
"My old colleague said the children and families who were transferred often lost contact afterward, with no follow-up records in their files, as if... they entered a black hole," Old Zhao said over the phone, his voice low. "Stranger still, about three or four years ago, this group suddenly vanished from internal directories and procedural documents, as if it never existed. When asked, higher-ups just said 'phase-specific work concluded, organizational adjustment.'"
"Three or four years ago?" Chen Mo calculated. That was around when Miao Miao was born. "And the 'specific indicator abnormalities' they screened for, what were they?"
"My colleague didn't know the details, only that it involved some unconventional gene expression profile fragments, specific metabolite indicators, and... abnormal ratios of immune cell subsets. Not items checked in ordinary pediatric exams." Old Zhao paused. "But the key point, from what he occasionally heard, was that the thresholds and screening models for these indicators were based on an 'risk assessment algorithm' provided externally. And the provider of the algorithm..."
"Prometheus," Chen Mo said the name.
"Most likely. But there's no formal documentation to prove it."
The trail led back to Prometheus. But how to approach this inscrutable multinational giant? Chen Mo remembered the contact person for Party B in the security protocol appendix: A. Stratton.
They started with public information. Prometheus Biotech, registered in Switzerland, had hundreds of R&D centers and partnerships worldwide. Main businesses covered cutting-edge gene editing, neurodegenerative disease research, aging intervention, and "public health solutions." Founder and CEO: Alexander Stratton, American-British, 70, mysterious background, few public reports, known as a workaholic, unmarried, childless, often in labs.
"Look at this," Xiao Wu pointed at an article on a fringe tech blog pulled up on the screen. "Five years ago, Prometheus participated in a multi-national military-funded project on 'Rapid Intervention and Memory Consolidation for Soldier PTSD.' They reportedly used... non-invasive neural interfaces and targeted memory modulation tech."
"Neural interfaces. Memory modulation." Chen Mo repeated the terms. "Connected to the National Health Chip?"
"Theoretically, any implanted or wearable bio-monitoring device with two-way data transmission and specific frequency stimulation capability can be a basic neural interface," Xiao Wu pushed up his glasses. "If the chip is advanced enough, it could not only monitor your physiological data but also... receive instructions to make fine adjustments or interventions on specific neural activity."
Memory intervention. The very nightmare Chen Mo experienced.
They needed an entry point, a weak link in Prometheus's local operations. Public info showed Prometheus had a "Regional Biological Sample Logistics & Quality Control Center" in the city, nominally providing cold-chain transport and quality testing services for special biological materials like stem cells and tissue samples to partner hospitals.
Late at night, Chen Mo and Xiao Wu drove to the outskirts of this logistics center. It was a gray, windowless building deep in an industrial park, seemingly low-key but heavily secured: high walls, barbed wire, full-coverage camera arrays, vehicle scanners at the entrance.
"This doesn't look like a normal logistics center," Xiao Wu whispered. "More like..."
"More like a prison or military installation," Chen Mo finished. They parked in distant shadows, observing with binoculars. Few vehicles entered or left, but each was thoroughly inspected.
"No way in. Forcing it would be suicide," Xiao Wu shook his head.
As Chen Mo was about to speak, the burner phone in his pocket—a cheap new one bought for security—vibrated. A text from an unknown number, with just one line:
"What you seek is not there. Go to Old Port Area, Warehouse 3, east-side ventilation duct. Code: Daedalus."
Chen Mo and Xiao Wu exchanged a look, seeing mutual shock and wariness.
"A trap?" Xiao Wu asked.
"Unknown," Chen Mo stared at the text. Daedalus—the Greek mythic craftsman who built the Labyrinth for King Minos, later escaped with his son Icarus using wings of feathers and wax. Icarus flew too close to the sun, the wax melted, and he fell.
A guide? A warning? Or bait for a trap?
"Go?" Xiao Wu asked.
Chen Mo was silent for a few seconds, looking at the forbidding building in the distance, then at the photo of Miao Miao's birthday card on his phone. "We have no other leads. We go, but we double our caution."
## **Chapter 6: Labyrinth Guide**
Old Port Area Warehouse 3 was a derelict structure from last century, overgrown with weeds. The east-side ventilation duct was rusted, its entrance sealed with rusted wire mesh and a faded "Danger - Keep Out" sign.
The code "Daedalus" didn't correspond to a number pad, but to a brick that looked identical to the others. Chen Mo pushed it gently; it recessed, and a section of wall beside it slid open silently, revealing a dark, narrow space barely large enough for one person to crouch through.
No light inside. Chen Mo turned on a small flashlight. The beam illuminated a cubic-meter space. On the ground was a black waterproof sealed bag.
Inside the bag were three items:
1. A hand-drawn, quite professional map of the old port warehouse layout, with one warehouse (B-7) circled in red.
2. A plain black USB drive with no markings.
3. A printed note: "B-7 is Prometheus's local data relay and backup node. USB contains custom backdoor program. Insert into any internal terminal; it will auto-camouflage and download recent operation logs. Caution: they change system encryption keys every 72 hours. Next key rotation: tomorrow, 23:00 sharp."
The text was standard print, unidentifiable.
"An... inside man?" Xiao Wu sounded incredulous. "Someone inside Prometheus helping us?"
"Or a deeper trap," Chen Mo picked up the USB drive, cold and light. "Leading us to B-7 to catch us red-handed, or... to show us what they want us to see."
"Do we still go?"
Chen Mo looked at the map and USB, then thought of Miao Miao, of the record with "Special Screening Team." "We have no choice. But we need a plan, an exit strategy."
"We scout tonight. We go in tomorrow at 22:00, before the key rotation".
## **Chapter 7: Breach**
Warehouse B-7 looked no different from the other derelict structures from the outside. But Chen Mo noticed fresh, regular tire tracks in the dust at the entrance, like from electric carts.
They moved two hours before the scheduled key rotation. Following the map, they entered through a hidden ventilation duct half-obscured by debris. Inside, the duct was surprisingly clean, no dust or cobwebs, the air carrying a faint hint of circulated air—proof it was still in use.
The duct ended in a maintenance room. They pried open the grate and dropped silently inside. The interior view stole their breath: the derelict exterior concealed a high-tech data center. Rows of black server racks hummed with a low, constant drone, blue-green LEDs blinking rhythmically in the dimness. The temperature was noticeably cooler, the air dry. In a distant glass booth, two security-guard types were slouched in chairs, seemingly dozing.
"The map says the log server is at Rack C-12," Xiao Wu whispered.
They moved like shadows between the aisles of racks. Found the target. The rack door had an electronic lock. Chen Mo inserted the USB drive into a port beside the door that looked like a debug interface.
A screen lit up, lines of code scrolling fast. A progress bar appeared: 1%...5%...10%... The backdoor was bypassing verification.
Suddenly, a faint, almost inaudible buzz came from the ceiling. Then, red warning lights began to rotate and flash!
"Detected! We triggered a silent alarm!" Xiao Wu hissed.
The guards in the booth snapped awake instantly, grabbing walkie-talkies and reaching for batons and stun guns.
Chen Mo stared at the progress bar: 45%...50%... Log data was downloading.
"Give me thirty more seconds!" Chen Mo gritted his teeth.
The guards charged. Xiao Wu grabbed a discarded metal pipe nearby, blocking the aisle. "Hurry!"
Progress: 70%...80%... Data stream surging.
A younger guard lunged at Chen Mo. Xiao Wu intercepted him with the pipe; they grappled, crashing into a rack with a loud bang.
90%...95%...
The older guard drew his stun gun; blue arcs crackled as he aimed at Xiao Wu.
99%...100%!
"Download complete!" Chen Mo yanked out the USB drive.
Almost simultaneously, the stun gun fired. Xiao Wu grunted, his body convulsing violently before collapsing. Chen Mo dragged him up, staggering toward the ventilation duct entrance.
"Halt!" The guards closed in, a baton striking Chen Mo's back—searing pain.
Chen Mo shoved Xiao Wu into the duct and scrambled in after him. Footsteps and shouts pursued. They crawled frantically through the narrow, winding duct; the sounds behind gradually faded.
After what felt like an eternity, they emerged from another outlet far from the warehouse area. Xiao Wu was semi-conscious, his arm dislocated, face pale. Chen Mo's back burned, but he clutched the USB drive tightly.
They didn't dare linger, hailed a late-night taxi to an address far from their destination, changed cabs twice, confirmed no tail, and finally returned to Jiang Shuping's basement.
## **Chapter 8: Truth in the Logs**
Under the basement light, Sister Li, with practiced skill, reset Xiao Wu's dislocated arm, making him break out in a cold sweat. Chen Mo's back was bruised but otherwise okay.
They plugged the USB drive into the isolated laptop Old Zhao brought. It contained one file: an encrypted log archive. Using the temporary key provided on the note (the "inside man" clearly knew they'd act tonight), they extracted it.
The system operation logs for the past thirty days appeared on the screen, cold and stark.
At first glance, Chen Mo felt his blood freeze.
**[DateTime] 07-15 03:14:22**
**Command Source: Prometheus Central Server (Node: Zurich-Main)**
**Target Chip Group: Sector-04 (East Asia), District-11 (This City)**
**Operation Type: Memory Suppression Protocol - Deep Silent Mode Initiation**
**Target Individual IDs: 1147 (Lin Xiao), 1148 (Chen Miao Miao)**
**Associated Individual ID: 1029 (Chen Mo) — Marked as 'Observation Group - Continuous Monitoring'**
**Execution Status: Success. Social relationship data stream revision complete. Physical trace cleanup order issued.**
**[DateTime] 07-15 03:15:01**
**Command Source: Local Automated Management Unit**
**Operation Type: Environment Cleanup Protocol Initiation**
**Target: Physical trace erasure. Priority: High.**
**Execution Unit: Automated Domestic Service Robot Network (Access Protocol: P-BioSafe-Home v3.2)**
**Status: Completion 99.73%. Residual Item Detection: 3. Risk Assessment: Low. Marked, transferred to 'Archive' for processing.**
Chen Mo's hands shook. He saw his and his family's IDs. He wasn't just a victim; he was **Observation Group**—the system was continuously monitoring his reactions! And the "residual items" were marked and sent to the "Archive," explaining the etchings on the card and hairpin!
He scrolled further, his stomach churning.
**[DateTime] 07-22 14:30:55**
**Command Source: Local Screening Server**
**Operation Type: New Screening Target Added**
**Target Individual ID: 2011 (Zhao Jianguo) - Trait: Naturally occurring gene repair abnormality post-radiation exposure (Potential Rating: B+)**
**Source: City Third Hospital Pediatrics, blood sample screening (Project Codename: Phoenix Preliminary Screen)**
**Status: Marked, pending family and social network assessment.**
Zhao Jianguo. Old Zhao's son! Not dead from illness, but "marked"! From a routine blood screen, for so-called "gene repair abnormality"!
**[DateTime] 08-01 09:10:33**
**Command Source: Central Server (Highest Priority Directive)**
**Operation Type: Protocol G - Emergency Expansion**
**Content: Erosion rate of energy barrier on western sector of Safe Zone has increased 37% beyond projections. Estimated full failure window shortened to 62 years (original estimate: 89 years). 'Ember Protocol' priority elevated to maximum. Screening criteria expanded: age lower limit adjusted to 3, upper limit to 70. Potential rating threshold lowered to C+.**
**Authorization: Prometheus Board & [Insufficient clearance to display partner]**
Safe Zone. Energy barrier erosion. Ember Protocol. 62 years.
These alien terms stabbed into Chen Mo's brain like ice picks, bringing a new, vaster terror.
"Safe Zone..." Xiao Wu murmured, forgetting his pain. "What Safe Zone? Energy barrier? This... this doesn't sound like it's about our world."
Chen Mo didn't know. But he understood one thing: this was far more than a company illegally screening genes or experimenting with memory. It involved a larger, darker truth about the very fabric of human existence.
The logs continued. The last entry:
**[DateTime] 08-10 23:59:01**
**Command Source: Local Monitoring AI**
**Operation Type: Risk Assessment Report**
**Target: Informal Memory Survivor Group (self-titled 'Memory Workshop')**
**Risk Assessment: Medium. Potential spread risk. Recommended action: Divide, monitor, execute secondary memory suppression or physical isolation on core members if necessary.**
**Execution Status: Monitoring active. Behavior pattern analysis report for core member Chen Mo uploaded.**
They were watching. Had been watching. Analyzing. Assessing. They knew about the "Memory Workshop," knew everyone's movements.
A deep chill settled over the basement. They thought they were hidden resisters, but they had been swimming in a transparent tank all along.
# **Chapter 9: Warning and Photographs**
The next afternoon, a parcel with no shipping information was left outside Jiang Shuping's door. The recipient: Chen Mo.
Inside were two photographs, no text.
The first: Miao Miao in a bright, softly colored room, sitting around a low table with several other children her age, doing crafts. She looked healthy, even... with a faint smile, intently gluing a sequin. The background had bookshelves, toys, like an activity room in a high-end kindergarten or care facility.
The second: Lin Xiao in what looked like a laboratory or observation room, wearing a light-colored blouse, standing before a large screen displaying scrolling data and charts. Her expression was focused, brows slightly furrowed—her habitual look when pondering complex problems. She looked a bit thinner, but her mental state seemed stable.
On the back of each photo, a printed line:
Miao Miao's: "She is adapting. She is growing in a secure environment."
Lin Xiao's: "She is working. She is contributing to an important cause."
A separate handwritten note, elegant and cold:
"Mr. Chen,
You have gone too far.
Your family is safe and well. They are participating in a great undertaking concerning the future.
Cease your futile digging. Memory can sometimes be a dangerous burden; forgetting can be a merciful gift.
Some truths are better left unknown.
— Someone concerned for your future"
No signature.
Chen Mo stared at the photos, heart pounding, a mix of immense relief at seeing his loved ones alive and suffocating dread at being utterly controlled. Miao Miao had grown a little, her hair styled differently. Lin Xiao was thinner, but her eyes were still clear.
This was what the other side wanted him to see: Your family is in our hands, they're fine, don't cause trouble, or else...
But Chen Mo forced himself to calm down, examining the photos in detail with a magnifying glass.
He noticed: In both photos, Lin Xiao and Miao Miao wore the same **silver, roughly one-centimeter-wide metal wristband** on their wrists. No screen, no buttons, minimalist design, like a medical or monitoring bracelet.
In the background of the photos, some wall insignias were deliberately blurred, but their outlines were recognizable: a **double helix encircling a simplified globe**—the Prometheus corporate logo.
In the corner of Miao Miao's photo, on a blurred cabinet door, was a partially obscured label with faintly visible words:
"...Adaptation Center ... Ember Project ... Sector Seven ..."
Ember Project. Sector Seven.
This was the "Ember Protocol" from the logs! Miao Miao was part of it, part of the "Ember"!
The photos were both a reassurance and a warning: We have your family's status at our fingertips, and we have your actions. Know your limits.
# **Chapter 10: The Voice of the Insider**
Chen Mo dialed the number that sent the "Daedalus" text. It rang three times, then connected.
Silence. Only faint static.
"Who are you?" Chen Mo asked, voice low.
"Someone who, like you, lost someone important," the voice replied, mechanically flat, processed to hide gender and age. "Someone who saw the truth of the 'Ember.'"
"Why are you helping us? And warning us?"
"Because they are making a mistake, and a growing one," the voice said. "The original intent of the 'Ember Project' might have been to address a crisis, but its current direction... is breeding monsters. Or rather, creating a new species they can fully control, not saving humanity."
"What is the Ember Project? What are the Safe Zone, the energy barrier?"
"Do you want the officially promoted version, or the bloody truth?"
"The truth."
A barely audible sigh came through the line, heavy even through the filter. "About eighty years ago, the so-called 'Seven-Day Dusk' global conflict erupted. Not a traditional nuclear war, but a more... subtle environmental weapon. The world wasn't instantly destroyed, but the global ecosystem and fundamental physical environment underwent irreversible mutation. This continent we're on, along with parts of the oceans, was relatively isolated and protected by a residual 'energy barrier' we still don't fully understand. This is the 'Safe Zone.' Outside the barrier... is hell. Radiation, drastically altered atmospheric composition, anomalous magnetic fields, and... life forms beyond our imagination."
Chen Mo felt dizzy, instinctively rejecting this science-fiction-sounding premise.
"The barrier is decaying, being eroded, slowly but steadily. According to the latest models, we have at most sixty-two years before it fails completely, exposing the Safe Zone to the external environment. At that point, current human civilization cannot survive." The voice paused. "The 'Ember Project' aims to screen and cultivate new human genetic templates capable of adapting to, even surviving and reproducing in, the harsh external environment before the barrier fails. Your daughter, through a routine childhood blood test, was found to possess an exceedingly rare 'potential for highly efficient gene self-repair and adaptive mutation induced under low-dose radiation environments.' She is... a core sample, with a high codename and potential rating."
"Sample..." Chen Mo repeated the word, sickened.
"Your wife, due to her direct genetic link to the core sample, as well as her own exceptional logical ability, organizational skills, and psychological resilience, was assessed and selected as an internal coordinator for the project. They are not victims or prisoners in the traditional sense, Mr. Chen. In official records and their own cognition, they are 'contributors' and 'participants' who voluntarily joined a noble cause—at least, that was true before the memory interventions."
"And the memory erasure? Why make the whole world forget them?"
"To minimize social upheaval and the risk of exposure," the voice said, calmly cruel. "If the public knew the Safe Zone was collapsing, that governments were secretly conducting mass genetic modification and human experiments, it would cause global panic and riots, dooming the project. So, the 'cleanest' approach is to have these 'contributors' and their families 'quietly disappear' from the social fabric. The background permissions and neural modulation functions of the National Health Chip allow for targeted, precise memory suppression and social relationship data revision."
"We." Chen Mo caught the word. "You said 'we.' You are, or were, inside Prometheus."
A long silence, only static.
"Was," the voice finally admitted, with a hint of bitterness. "I was a core member of the early genetic architecture team for the 'Ember Project,' chief gene sequence designer. Until... five years ago, they took my eight-year-old daughter, citing 'need to optimize control group data.' She showed no special genetic potential. She was just an ordinary child..."
The voice wavered for the first time, a suppressed pain and hatred audible even through the filter.
"Control group?"
"Some experiments need baseline comparisons," the voice returned to its icy tone, colder now. "Survival data, psychological breakdown thresholds, physiological failure processes of ordinary children—no genetic interventions—in simulated external environment test chambers... are the most valuable 'baseline data.' She... didn't survive the third round of stress tests."
Chen Mo was speechless, feeling grief and anger for this stranger, and deeper fear for his own family.
"I am now a ghost haunting the edges of the system, a traitor," the voice said. "I remain inside, gaining access, to gather evidence, wait for the right moment... to one day destroy this twisted project utterly, or at least change its inhumane direction."
"What do you need from me?"
"Keep investigating, but more discreetly, more cleverly," the voice said. "Next time, they might not send photos. The B-7 warehouse data was just a local node log, the tip of the iceberg. The real core, the main testing ground and future base for the 'Ember Project,' is in the 'Arks.'"
"Arks?"
"Large-scale underground eco-cities secretly built by Prometheus and the forces behind it, within the Safe Zone. They are the primary living areas, experimental grounds, and... seed vaults for the future civilization of genetically modified individuals. Your family is likely in one of these 'Arks.'"
"Where? How do we get in?"
"I don't know the exact coordinates of all 'Arks'; that's top secret. But fragmented intel I've acquired points north, deep underground in the old industrial zone. There's a backup entrance and logistics channel to an 'Ark' near this city."
The voice paused, serious. "Lastly, beware of Alexander Stratton. He is not merely a businessman or scientist. He is a true believer, convinced he is executing a divine duty. For the 'Ember Project,' he would sacrifice anyone, including himself. He sees emotion as a weakness, individuals as resources. Don't try to understand or appeal to him; it's useless."
The call ended.
Chen Mo held the hot phone, standing in the dim basement. The information flooded over him. Safe Zone, barrier, Ember, Arks, Stratton... A dark tapestry of a scale far beyond his imagination was unfolding.
His family had become a piece in this vast, cruel plan.
# **Chapter 11: The Call of the North**
Chen Mo shared the conversation with the group. This time, even the usually cautious Old Zhao decided to join—his son Zhao Jianguo might be alive, maybe in an "Ark." He had to know.
They began planning the expedition north to the old industrial zone. The risk was immense, but there was no choice.
The night before the journey, Chen Mo went alone to the ruins of the "Memory Workshop." It was rubble now, bulldozer tracks clear.
He stood there a long time in the night wind. Then, he took the butterfly hairpin from his inner pocket and placed it gently on a relatively intact brick, weighting it with a half-broken piece.
"I will find the answers," he whispered to the void. "I will bring you home. No matter what."
A soft footstep behind him. He turned. It was Xiao Yu, wrapped in an adult's old coat, looking even smaller.
"Uncle Chen, you're going to find Miao Miao and Auntie Xiao now, aren't you?" she asked, eyes bright in the moonlight.
"Yes."
"Take me," Xiao Yu's tone was not a request, but a statement.
"No, Xiao Yu, it's too dangerous. The situation is unknown, there might be—"
"Grandpa is there," Xiao Yu interrupted softly but firmly. "I know. I've been having the same dream these nights: He's deep, deep underground, where there are many soft lights, not like sunlight. He's in a big room doing woodwork, many tools around, but he always stops and looks toward the door, as if waiting for someone. I know he's waiting for me."
Chen Mo looked at this twelve-year-old girl who had experienced too much strangeness and loss, realizing she might be the one among them with the purest, most unshakable conviction. Her "knowing" wasn't based on logic, but on a deeper, more direct connection.
"Your grandmother won't agree. It's too dangerous."
"She already has," Xiao Yu said. "I told her. She said if Grandpa is really there, if he was really taken, not left on his own... she wants me to bring him back. And..." She looked down, kicking a pebble. "She said you'll be alone, need someone to remind you to eat on time, to cover yourself at night. You always forget to take care of yourself."
Chen Mo was stunned, his eyes warming. He crouched to her eye level. "Xiao Yu, if you come with me, you might see terrible things, face danger, maybe even... not come back."
"I'm not afraid," Xiao Yu looked up, her gaze clear and fearless. "Grandpa said fear doesn't solve problems. And if Miao Miao is there, she must be scared too. She's younger than me; she needs someone with her."
Chen Mo could refuse no longer. He nodded, extending a hand. "Alright. We go together. But you must promise me to follow all instructions, no acting on your own."
Xiao Yu nodded firmly, her small hand gripping his. "I promise."
# **Chapter 12: Deep in the Old Industrial Zone**
The northern old industrial zone was the city's utterly forgotten corner. The skeletal remains of last century's huge smelting plants, chemical factories, and machinery plants stood like giant carcasses. Weeds choked the cracked concrete, obscuring roads.
According to the "insider's" vague clues, the entrance should be near the site of the third smelting plant, close to a derelict cooling tower. The five of them (Chen Mo, Xiao Yu, Xiao Wu, Sister Li, Old Zhao) searched the desolate complex for two full days like an expedition, finding nothing. The vast space and complex structures were daunting.
On the evening of the third day, as they prepared to withdraw and regroup, Xiao Yu tugged Chen Mo's sleeve, pointing toward a row of low, seemingly ordinary red-brick warehouse buildings.
"Uncle Chen, look over there... that window."
Chen Mo looked. The row of single-story warehouses had windows boarded up. But on one window, one board's color and grain differed slightly from the rest, its edges unnaturally straight, not like hand-nailed wood.
They moved closer. It was a metal plate imitating wood grain, with fine seams. Chen Mo pressed it—it gave slightly inward with a near-silent *beep*, like an electronic recognition sound.
Immediately, a section of brick wall beside it slid open soundlessly, revealing a gap just wide enough to sidle through. Beyond it, concrete stairs descended into darkness, leading to a thick, unmarked gray metal door. On the door, only a discreet retinal scanner.
"Biometric. We can't get in," Xiao Wu whispered.
As Chen Mo was about to speak, the scanner lit up with a soft blue light, a thin beam scanning the empty space before the door. Then, a soft *click*. The door opened.
"Someone... opened it for us?" Sister Li looked around warily.
"Or it's an invitation," Old Zhao said gravely.
Inside was a spacious elevator cab with matte metal walls. They entered. The doors closed, and it began a smooth descent. The display flashed numbers: -10, -20, -30... finally stopping at -50.
The doors opened again.
# **Chapter 13: A Glimpse of the Ark**
The sight that met them stole their breath, leaving them speechless with shock.
They stood on a vast, circular glass observation platform about fifty meters above the floor, overlooking a... thriving underground city.
The dome was a huge curved screen simulating a blue sky with clouds, even casting simulated sunlight. The city was orderly, with streets, plazas, parks, neatly arranged residential and public buildings. A winding artificial river ran through it, crossed by small arched bridges. Lush vegetation, even small groves and lawns.
People walked, cycled, sat on park benches; children played on a playground. Everyone wore similar, soft-colored casual clothes, their expressions calm, serene.
It looked like a meticulously crafted, perfect utopia, an ideal community.
But Chen Mo noticed anomalies immediately:
1. Everyone wore the familiar silver narrow wristband.
2. Their movements, walking pace, even facial expressions seemed too... placid, lacking the subtle urgency, irritation, surprise, or boredom of normal life.
3. The air carried a faint scent, like hospital antiseptic mixed with ozone, detectable despite the ventilation.
4. The whole space was eerily quiet, missing the background hum of a city—no wind, no distant murmur of traffic or crowds, only the low drone of circulation systems.
"Welcome to Ark One, auxiliary observation level."
A gentle female voice came from behind. Chen Mo turned to see a woman in her forties, wearing a light gray suit, with an ID badge: **Ark Ecology Management Dept. - Director Zhou**. She wore a professional smile, but her eyes scanned each of them sharply, lingering a moment longer on Chen Mo and Xiao Yu.
"Mr. Chen Mo, young Jiang Yu, and everyone... we've been expecting you," Director Zhou's smile didn't waver. "The journey must have been tiring. Would you like to rest first, or go directly to meet those you seek?"
So direct, so matter-of-fact. As if their arrival was anticipated, even permitted.
Xiao Yu gripped Chen Mo's hand, looking up. "Is my grandpa here?"
"Of course. Mr. Jiang Feng is an excellent instructor in our woodworking studio, very popular with the children," Director Zhou looked at Xiao Yu, her smile deepening slightly. "He often speaks of you, Xiao Yu. Calls you his 'Little Raindrop.'"
Xiao Yu's eyes brightened instantly, leaning forward slightly.
Chen Mo put a hand on her shoulder, addressing Director Zhou. "My wife Lin Xiao, my daughter Chen Miao Miao?"
"Dr. Lin Xiao is in the Gene Compatibility Research Department. Chen Miao Miao... ah, Sample 7, is in the Child Adaptation and Learning Center," Director Zhou made a gesture of invitation. "They are in their work/study periods. However, since you're here, we can arrange a meeting. This way."
She led them from the observation deck into a bright, pristine corridor. Walls a soft beige, floor spotless. Occasionally, people in similar uniforms passed, giving them calm, slightly curious glances, but no one approached.
Everything was orderly. Everything was under control.
Chen Mo's unease grew heavier. This wasn't like breaching an enemy camp; it felt like being "invited into the trap."
# **Chapter 14: Reunion and Strangeness**
They were led to a simple but comfortable small meeting room with a sofa, coffee table, potted plant. Director Zhou asked them to wait and left.
Minutes later, the door opened. Lin Xiao walked in.
She wore a white lab coat over a light blue blouse, hair neatly tied back, no makeup, looking somewhat tired but with clear eyes. Seeing Chen Mo, she paused mid-step, a flicker of confusion crossing her face, then resuming calm composure. She sat on the opposite sofa, posture proper but distant.
"Hello. Director Zhou said you are... my former family?" Lin Xiao spoke, voice steady, no emotion.
Chen Mo's heart felt like a sledgehammer hit, struggling to breathe. "Xiao Xiao, it's me. Chen Mo."
"I have heard of you," Lin Xiao nodded, tone like discussing an academic topic. "System records indicate we were once married and had a daughter. But I apologize, the related memory data has been suppressed per security protocol. This is to ensure the psychological stability and task focus of 'Ember Project' participants."
Project. She used the word so naturally.
"Miao Miao?" Chen Mo's voice was hoarse, dry.
"Sample 7 is currently in the Child Adaptation Center. Her gene stability tests and adaptive learning progress are excellent," Lin Xiao's tone remained flat, like a report. "She will soon enter the next phase of 'multi-gene sequence fusion adaptability' experiments, a key step in the project."
"Fusion experiments? What fusion?"
"Directed, controlled fusion of selected advantageous environmental adaptation gene sequences with the baseline human genome, cultivating the next generation of 'Adaptants' with stronger survival capabilities," Lin Xiao explained as if stating common knowledge. "This is one of the core aspects of the 'Ember Project.' Sample 7 is one of the few individuals showing high tolerance and stable expression potential for multi-gene superposition. She is valuable."
Sample. Valuable. She referred to her own daughter as a sample, described her as "valuable."
Chen Mo felt nauseous and dizzy. Memories could be suppressed, but what about basic maternal instinct? Was that erased too?
"Xiao Xiao, look at this." He almost tremblingly placed the carefully preserved birthday card on the coffee table before her.
Lin Xiao glanced down, her expression unchanged, not even a flicker of her lashes. "A child's drawing. And?"
"Miao Miao drew this. A birthday gift for all three of us. She wrote the name wrong, scribbled over it," Chen Mo pointed at the scribble, voice choking. "See this fingerprint, pink, from ink she had on her hand... remember? That day we did crafts with her..."
Lin Xiao's gaze rested on the card for a few seconds, then lifted to meet Chen Mo's, her eyes chillingly calm. "An interesting artifact. But it holds no associative memory for me. The memory suppression protocol is physical, irreversible, Mr. Chen. Accept reality. Miao Miao has a more important mission here. She may become key to humanity's future survival. Personal emotions and memories are insignificant in the face of species survival."
"At what cost?" Chen Mo stood abruptly, voice rising. "At the cost of losing family, memory, humanity? She's so young! You're treating her like a lab animal!"
"Humanity is a luxury of a specific environment," Lin Xiao also stood, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "When an entire species faces extinction, individual sentiment must yield to collective survival. Don't you understand? The Safe Zone is collapsing. Outside is a dead zone. The 'Ember Project' is our only hope. And I chose to be part of that hope, and to guide my daughter to be part of it. It is the rational choice."
She walked to the door, paused without turning:
"You may see Sample 7. But adjust your expectations. She is no longer the daughter from your memory. She is 'Ember.'"
The door closed. Dead silence in the room.
Chen Mo staggered, grabbing the sofa back to steady himself. The dream of reunion shattered completely against this utterly alien reality.
# **Chapter 15: Miao Miao and Number 7**
Under Director Zhou's "arrangement," Chen Mo was permitted to visit the Child Adaptation Center alone to see Miao Miao. The others were "invited" to tour other public areas of the Ark.
The Adaptation Center looked like a high-end kindergarten or international school. Bright colors, soft padding, abundant teaching aids and toys. Children engaged in various activities under teachers' guidance: building blocks, painting, story time, simple science experiments.
Miao Miao was in a corner by a window, building a complex block structure alone. She had grown a little, hair cut in a neat bob, wearing the same light blue jumpsuit as the others. Seeing Chen Mo approach with staff, she stopped, tilted her head, studying him for a few seconds with pure curiosity—no familiarity, no fear.
"Miao Miao?" Chen Mo crouched, level with her, his heart a tight, painful knot.
"I am Number 7," the little girl corrected, voice clear, enunciated. "Who are you? A visitor?"
Number 7. A number replacing a name.
Chen Mo took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat, and pulled out the crooked unicorn carving made by Xiao Yu. "A friend made this for you. She thought you'd like it."
Miao Miao took it, examined it carefully, running a finger over the rough wood grain. Her eyes lit up a bit. "A unicorn. I like its shape. But the color is wrong. It should be pink, with a rainbow mane." She stated objectively, like critiquing an object.
"You used to have a pink unicorn plushie, on your bedside," Chen Mo whispered, careful not to show too much emotion. "You called it 'Rainbow.'"
Miao Miao stared at the carving, brow furrowing slightly, as if trying to access some faint, distant impression. After a few seconds, she shook her head and handed it back. "Thank you. But I don't need toys now. I have 'Gene Fundamentals Cognition' class. Goodbye."
She put down her blocks, stood up, nodded to a young female teacher approaching, and walked toward the classroom, steps steady, without looking back.
Chen Mo froze, clutching the cold wooden carving. The world seemed to crumble and collapse silently around him. His daughter, his lively, giggling, thunder-fearing, pink-unicorn-loving little girl, had become a polite, calm, unfamiliar little entity called "Number 7."
Not just memories erased; parts of her personality seemed "pruned" or reshaped.
# **Chapter 16: Shadows of the Underground City**
That night, they were housed in the Ark's "Visitor Quarters." Rooms clean and comfortable, private bath, but no external communication devices, and the windows were fake, displaying fixed landscape images.
The group secretly gathered in Chen Mo's room. Everyone looked grim.
"This place is too eerie," Xiao Wu whispered. "Perfect on the surface, but terrifying when you think about it. Everyone is too... normal. Unnaturally so. And did you notice? No dates, times on any screen or sign."
"I peeked at some room numbers," Sister Li said. "All codes, like 'Residential-B7-42,' 'Learning-A3-15.' No names, just numbers and function zones."
"I tried talking to two people 'strolling' in the park," Old Zhao said with a bitter smile. "They were polite, but their answers were hollow, like programmed responses. Asked how they felt about here: 'Very good, very peaceful.' Asked about the outside world: 'Don't know much, this is our world.'"
Xiao Yu looked down, fiddling with her clothes. "I saw Grandpa... in the woodworking studio. He's still doing woodwork, teaching some older kids. He saw me... seemed to recognize me, but not. He smiled, called me 'Little Raindrop,' but then asked, 'Are you a new trainee?' Director Zhou said his memory suppression is deeper, due to age, lower neural plasticity... But I think Grandpa's eyes... look a bit empty."
Chen Mo forced himself to analyze calmly. "The Ark is the execution base for the 'Ember Project.' They conduct genetic experiments here, and social experiments—creating a new social model stripped of 'unstable emotional factors,' highly ordered and controllable. Lin Xiao, Miao Miao, Old Zhao's son... they're likely part of this model."
"What do we do?" Xiao Wu asked. "Try to take them by force? Impossible. Layers of security, we don't even know our way around."
"And they might not want to leave," Sister Li sighed. "Lin Xiao clearly believes in the project. Miao Miao... doesn't remember you."
Chen Mo was silent. Suddenly, a hidden speaker in the room crackled to life with Director Zhou's voice, gentle but firm:
"Dear visitors, please rest well. Tomorrow morning, we will arrange a brief meeting with members of the Ark Management Committee to address some of your questions. Please observe rest hours and do not leave the guest quarters unescorted. Good night."
The broadcast ended. A gentle form of house arrest and warning.
Late night, Chen Mo couldn't sleep. He stood by the fake window, looking at the eternal "night view." His phone had no signal here.
Suddenly, a vibration in his pocket—the burner phone for contacting the "insider"! He distinctly remembered being asked to "temporarily deposit" all electronics before entering the Ark; he'd hidden this one in his shoe sole.
He ducked into the bathroom, turned it on. A new message:
"D exposed, captured. I am his emergency backup contact, codename E. Your meeting in the Ark is an authorized 'observation window.' Stratton wants to see the 'memory anchor' effect on the samples. Be cautious, all conversations and actions are recorded and analyzed. Do not attempt escape; success probability zero. Only opportunity: Stratton himself. He inspects the core system in Central Control every 72 hours. Next time: tomorrow 22:30. Control room in central spire top level. Requires dual biometric + dynamic code. Code changes every 30 seconds."
"How do I get the code?" Chen Mo typed quickly.
"Stratton's implanted chip has highest clearance, can generate temporary access codes. Requires physical contact with his personal terminal (silver wristband), verification within 3 seconds. Only way to lift specific individual memory suppression, access core database, even... disrupt parts of Ark systems. Extremely dangerous. Your choice. —E"
The message included a rough schematic of the central spire's layout.
Chen Mo stared. Confront Stratton directly? Steal highest access? It sounded suicidal.
But it was the only opportunity the "insider" pointed to. The only chance to possibly awaken Lin Xiao and Miao Miao's memories, even learn more about the "Ember Project."
He replied: "How to approach him? Control room is heavily guarded."
Minutes later, the reply: "Tomorrow 22:25, 10-second blind spot in surveillance loop for outer control room corridor (system self-check). A preset flaw. Only 10 seconds. After that, alarms throughout Ark. Once you have access, decide immediately how to use it: 1. Lift only your family's suppression. 2. Attempt download of 'Ember' core data. 3. Both (may not have time). Different choices, different consequences. If 2 or 3, be ready for pursuit from entire Ark. —E"
A choice. Again. But this one could determine life or death directly.
Chen Mo turned off the phone, hid it. He looked at his tired, determined face in the mirror.
There was no way back.
# **Chapter 17: The Ten-Second Blind Spot**
The next day, they were "scheduled" to tour the Ark's agricultural zone, water recycling, education center—all showcased as gleaming, hopeful. But Chen Mo was distracted, rehearsing the night's plan in his head.
The evening "meeting" was more of a briefing. Several committee members (including Director Zhou) reiterated the "great significance" and "urgency" of the "Ember Project," emphasized the "voluntary" and "important" role of participants (including Lin Xiao and Miao Miao), and subtly suggested Chen Mo and the others should "comply with the greater good," "accept their loved ones becoming heroes," even consider "staying to contribute."
Chen Mo remained silent throughout, only asking at the end: "Will Mr. Stratton be in the Ark? I'd like to thank him in person for 'taking care' of my family."
Director Zhou's eyes flickered, smiling. "Dr. Stratton is very busy, not often on the front lines. But he is deeply committed to the project. Perhaps an opportunity will arise."
At 22:20, Chen Mo excused himself, citing chest tightness, wanting to walk alone. He left the guest quarters (not prevented, as if they thought he had nowhere to go in the Ark). Using E's map, he avoided main corridors, using ventilation ducts and service ladders, moving painfully toward the central spire.
22:24, he infiltrated the spire's ground floor. Security was tighter here, but patrols had fixed routes. He hid in shadows, heart pounding.
22:25 exactly. The indicator lights on corridor cameras went dark for a second, then relit. According to E, for the next 10 seconds, the feed would loop previous footage showing no anomaly.
Now!
Chen Mo darted into the stairwell, racing upward. Control room on the top floor. No elevator. No cameras in the stairwell, but each floor had a secured door. Fortunately, E seemed to have pre-disabled them; all were unlocked.
22:28, he reached the top-floor corridor, panting. The heavy metal door to the control room was at the end. Two fully armed guards stood outside.
Chen Mo pressed against the wall around the corner, sweat soaking his back. A frontal assault was suicide.
22:29:50. Just as despair was rising, both guards' earpieces seemed to receive a command simultaneously. They exchanged a look, then turned and walked away from the door toward the stairwell! E's diversion? Or Stratton's arrangement?
No time to think. Chen Mo sprinted for the control room door. Retinal and palm scanners, dynamic code keypad. Time: 22:30:01.
The door opened. Stratton seemed to have just finished scanning, about to enter.
Chen Mo lunged from the side, aiming straight for the silver terminal on Stratton's right wrist!
Stratton reacted with startling speed for a man over seventy, sidestepping while pressing something on the band. A piercing alarm instantly blared through the corridor!
But Chen Mo's left hand had caught Stratton's wrist; his right hand brought out a prepared data cable with a special connector (provided by E) and jammed it into a hidden port on the band's side!
"Fool!" Stratton snarled, striking at Chen Mo's neck with his free hand.
Chen Mo took the blow, vision blurring, but his fingers clenched on the band. Connection successful! The band's screen lit up, displaying a rapidly changing code.
"Verification complete. Temporary highest clearance granted. Duration: 60 seconds." A cold electronic voice.
Summoning strength, Chen Mo twisted the band's screen toward the scanner by the control room door.
"Biometric + dynamic code verified. Welcome, Dr. Stratton." The door slid open.
Chen Mo dragged the struggling Stratton inside, manually locking the door behind them (a temporary barrier). The control room was a dizzying ring of screens showing live feeds from every corner of the Ark, dense data streams, and... deeper system interfaces.
"What do you think you're doing?" Stratton broke free, straightening his collar, looking at Chen Mo with icy contempt, more annoyed than panicked, like dealing with a naughty child. "You think temporary access changes anything?"
Chen Mo ignored him, scanning the console. He found the "Memory Suppression Management" module. Opened it, searched: Lin Xiao (ID 1147), Chen Miao Miao (Number 7, ID 1148).
Found the "Suppression Lift" option. Required confirmation.
He clicked without hesitation.
"Memory suppression lift command issued. Full awakening time estimated 12-24 hours, varies by individual neural state. Note: Awakening process may involve severe psychological discomfort and cognitive conflict." System prompt.
Step one done.
Less than forty seconds left.
Chen Mo looked at Stratton. "Where's the access point for the 'Ember Project' core database?"
Stratton sneered. "You think I'd tell you? Even if you got the data, you couldn't take it. The Ark is locked down. You have nowhere to go."
"Tell me!" Chen Mo stepped closer, eyes bloodshot.
Stratton looked at him, then smiled strangely—a mix of weariness and... pity? "You remind me of myself, young, reckless for loved ones. But boy, you can't save them. Can't save anyone. The truth is darker, more hopeless than you imagine."
He suddenly walked to the console himself, inputting a long string, pulling up a deep-layer interface labeled "Ember Core - Civilization Backup Vault." "It's here. But needs my bio-key again to access the underlying data. Your temporary clearance isn't enough."
Twenty seconds left.
Violent pounding and shouts from outside the door.
Chen Mo looked from Stratton to the enticing, dangerous portal on screen. He could try to take Stratton by force (nearly impossible), or...
He made a decision. He quickly executed not an attempt to download the massive core data (no time), but a command mentioned in E's info, of the highest priority: **"Initiate physical isolation and read-only lock protocol for core database."**
This protocol was for extreme external threats. Once activated, the database would sever all external network connections, become read-only, rejecting any modification, deletion, or upload commands until the highest clearance holder personally unlocked it. Simultaneously, the database's physical coordinates (if previously hidden) would broadcast once to all high-level nodes in the system—a fail-safe to prevent total loss from single-point failure.
"What are you doing?!" Stratton showed genuine anger for the first time, lunging to stop him, but too late.
"Protocol initiated. Coordinates broadcast. Lock duration: 72 hours." System prompt.
Chen Mo's goal was simple: He couldn't take the data, but he could "freeze" it temporarily, preventing the Ark from erasing or tampering with core evidence. And that coordinate broadcast... might reach E, or other potential resisters.
Time up. Temporary access expired. The band disconnected automatically.
The control room door burst open. Armed guards swarmed in, weapons trained on Chen Mo.
Stratton, breathing heavily, waved them off from shooting immediately. He stared at Chen Mo, expression complex. "Smarter than I thought. And dumber. Do you know the consequence of initiating that protocol?"
Chen Mo was forced to the floor, cheek against cold metal, but looked up at Stratton. "What consequence?"
"It sends a highest-level security alert to all 'Arks,' and to... our 'partners' above," Stratton said slowly. "They will deem this Ark severely compromised, or infiltrated by hostile forces. What follows may not be just pursuit. They might initiate... a cleansing protocol."
His quiet words froze Chen Mo's blood.
"And the family you so want to protect," Stratton leaned down, whispering near his ear with cruel calm, "might be labeled 'unstable factors,' cleansed along with you."
Chen Mo's pupils contracted sharply.
"Take him away. Isolation cell," Stratton straightened, cold again. "Notify the committee, initiate Ark One's secondary emergency status. Also... prepare re-evaluation protocols for Sample 7 and associated individuals."
As Chen Mo was dragged away, his last sight was Stratton's back, standing before the console, watching the flood of alerts on the screen.
He had gambled on himself, and likely on the safety of Lin Xiao and Miao Miao.
The outcome of the gamble remained unknown.
To read subsequent chapters, visit the link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/memory-archives-147545186?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link