"Brother Li, Xiaomeng should be very familiar with firearms, why don't you let him teach me how to assemble and disassemble guns. ”

Carrying a boxy bag and walking on the street will not attract so much attention.

Li Yi didn't open his eyes, just waved his hand and said, "It's almost pinched, you can teach him." ”

Xiao Meng bowed slightly and promised "yes".

Guan Ke kept staring at Xiao Meng. The moment she lowered her head slightly, the Guan Ke could clearly see through her skin, and more metallic luster reflected it. Her skeleton is prominent, and it is still very different from that of a human.

At this point, his doubts about whether Xiaomeng is a robot have been answered, and he is now 100% sure that Xiaomeng is not a human.

Even though this fact had been in his mind all along, he couldn't believe how machines could think and act so similarly to humans.

Xiao Meng picked up the gun in the hand of the customs officer, and casually placed it on the table next to him, and his slender ten fingers were like flying, and after a series of dense clicks, * had become countless parts.

Humans are amazing creatures. Stupid in some ways, stupid in some ways. The internal struggle of a small group can be staged into a thrilling power struggle drama. This is where humans are smart. The manifestation of stupidity lies in the possessiveness of human beings. They want to label everything they see. What's more, they will tighten their grip on their things to prevent them from disappearing.

Since the day Xiaomeng was born, she has been someone else's private property. Like the doll's teddy bear, she is also a doll to coax the owner to be happy. What makes this doll different is that her thinking, behavior, has become close to that of a human.

The humans who created her say he was too lonely. Since he was caught in the base, no one has spoken to him for more than ten days. Dark, cold, empty rooms can drive people crazy. The "doctors" in white coats stared at him with the same eyes as they studied ancient fossils, and when they were no longer looking at him, they moved through the corridors outside like the ghosts of the Middle European Centuries depicted in fairy tales, ghostly and lifeless.

The young creator tries to talk to the ghost in the white coat, but they ignore it. They were just studying something on their own, and they were completely treating the young man as an object, an object that could be dissected at any time.

Gradually, the young man looked into their eyes with some fear. No one wants to die, let alone such a young life, to die in the darkness of the base.

In three months, the white coat had countless blood draws in the young man's body, and on average, almost twice a day. The young man's arms and buttocks were covered with dense needle holes, which looked like a large honeycomb.

They were obsessed with studying his blood, as if they had no intention of dissecting him. The young man's psyche breathed a sigh of relief, at least the little life was still there.

Man can never be satisfied. After knowing that he would not die in the hands of those white coats in the short term, the endless loneliness became another big problem for him.

With no one to talk to him, he spoke to the floor himself, to the glass wall that surrounded him, to the only chair, to himself.

His actions finally caught the attention of the white coat. They no longer looked at him like they were looking at a rare object, but like they were looking at a madman.

Young people are happy, because madmen always belong to the category of human beings. He chattered like a sparrow to the white coats, hoping that they would have more sympathy for the madmen they saw as madmen.

The young man was disappointed again, and even though he had upgraded from an object to a madman, no one spoke to him. People were terrified even to take a breath in front of him.

He looked at their expressions, studied their demeanor, and finally understood that even if he upgraded from a madman to a beautiful woman who turned all beings upside down, no one would talk to him. This group of white coats is not a leader, but an executor, and above them, there are obviously people who call the shots.

Apparently, the lab coats were given an order not to talk to the creatures that lived inside the glass house. If this prohibition is violated, you can draw some conclusions from the frightened eyes of the white coats, either death or life is worse than death. Young people believe that the latter is more deterrent than the former.

He came to the conclusion that don't think of these lab coats as your kind, they're just machines that act on orders.

The young man talked to the objects around him for half a month, but after all, he still felt lonely and bored. They are dead creatures after all, without heads, without mouths, and will not respond to any of your words. Maybe they won't even listen, so what's the point of talking about it themselves?

He didn't know how much time had passed, because he couldn't see the change of the sun, and there was no clock in the glass house. The time can only be estimated from the three meals delivered by the staff every day.

He stopped talking to himself, and he gave up calculating what day it was based on the number of deliveries.

Endless nothingness devoured him, and loneliness grew like weeds in his heart. Young people feel like they're going to be transformed from a human being into a lifeless stone.

He's going crazy.

Those white coats weren't of their kind, and there were no ones around him.

There is no way to express his feelings. Lonely dark, hollow weeds grew all over his ribcage, gradually filling his head.

It is better to choose death than to continue to live in this eternal boring glass house.

As soon as the thought came to him, he turned into a fierce lion and slammed his head against the glass wall.

The expressions of the white coats outside were still indifferent, but there were still some differences. Several young white coats had their mouths open in an O-shape, and they were about to scream. But they didn't scream. Their expressions quickly returned to indifference.

The superiors once said that when you enter here, you should not have human emotions.

The young lab coats didn't understand why at first, but when they saw some of their colleagues become part of the glass house, they began to understand that here, you don't need to know why, you just need absolute obedience.

The young man's body slowly slid down the glass wall, and the whole world slowly plunged into darkness. He was about to be liberated, and even if he couldn't go to Western Elysium, it was better than staying in this glass cage.

Unfortunately, the glass walls weren't as hard as he thought they would be. He didn't die. When he opened his eyes, he found himself still in the glass house, sitting in the only chair. Unlike before, his head was wrapped in a layer of white gauze.

The young man looked around blankly, not knowing why.

Soon, he found a note on the ground.

The young man bent down and picked up the note.

The note read, "What do you want?"

What do I want? I want freedom, can you give it to me? I don't want to stay in this rotten, grave-like place, can you give it to me? I want to leave here forever and indulge in the glittering lights of life, can you say yes?

The young man roared at the note.

He wanted to tear the note into countless pieces and stuff it in the mouth of some bastard and force him to swallow it.

Just then, he saw something next to the original note. A pencil. A sharpened pencil.

If you put the tip of a pencil in your neck, you might be able to pierce the main artery. Blood gushes like a spring, and it won't be long before you can wander into another world. The young man thought.

But the idea came up only once. Only those who are on the verge of death can understand the true horror of death. He'd died once and didn't want to die again. And it was the kind of painful death that he couldn't bear.

He finally understood what the pencil was really for. Pencils are used for writing, for conveying information.

Or rather, the managers here are compromising with him in disguise. The people at the top didn't want him to die, and he still had a lot of value.

The young man bit the end of the eraser, thought about it, and wrote a crooked line on the paper:

I want to build a robot. I hope that the material I mentioned, you can all provide me.

At the next delivery time, the note was handed out.

At the next delivery time, a new note was handed in, with only three words on it:

No problem.

From then on, the young man stopped talking to the air, to the dead. His glass house is full of all kinds of parts and components, and all kinds of precious materials. The room, which had been empty, immediately became full.

It seems that suicide is still very beneficial. The young man thought a little self-deprecatingly.

The days to come will no longer be lonely. The young man leaned over a pile of machine parts, thinking and fiddling for a while. There was also a large desk in his glass room, on which were stacked with four or five stacks of white paper. More than two dozen thin sheets of paper floated on the ground, all full of calculations.

Young people don't care about all the sounds of the outside world. He tossed and turned between the intricate parts on the floor and the large desk. Sometimes he sat at a large table and wrote down one equation after another with a pencil on a blank piece of paper, and sometimes he would crouch down and look at the strange things on the floor and think.

Preparations were made for half a year, and the young people began to assemble them in full. In this process, he still has to calculate from time to time to make sure that a certain parameter can achieve the effect he wants.

The second phase of work took a lot of time. The young man comes up with an idea, calculates, and practices, and then encounters an unbreakable problem, he overturns this idea and thinks of another idea.

The young man doesn't know how much time has passed, because he has no time left to count the number of deliveries.

Or a moment later, or a hundred years later. The intelligent robot in its original form was finally born. She is the first-generation version of Xiaomeng.