When he woke up in the morning, Belus found himself asleep on the couch the night before.

The data device glowed faintly reddish in his hand, and he felt a breeze blowing, as if the data machine was waiting for him to wake up and give him a surprise.

A surprise indeed. Belus stared at the last line of the graph in a daze.

"Good girl." He muttered to himself, a glint in his eyes.

He quickly re-encrypted the data device. It's a daily habit for him, and doing it will make Bellus feel safe for the day.

"Foley, I have something important to tell you, tonight, you come to my house tonight."

Belus dialed his classmate's phone, and the voice on the other end of the phone was weak.

"Didn't you sleep well? Foley, are you listening. ”

"Yes, hell, Belus, I think I've got a problem, but damn I can't see it at all."

"The problem likes to wear a mask and hide behind a wall."

"That's right, they even play spy games with you."

"Spy game, haha, do you suspect that Samel has a lover?"

"How do you know?"

"People who get married are a little nervous."

Berus laughed on the phone, and Representative Foley didn't feel any sarcasm, but a little sad.

"People who get married are sick." Representative repeats, "Only after marriage." He hurriedly added.

"So it's good to be single, isn't it? Ephia is smarter, afraid that you will marry her, so she will slip away early. ”

"You really like to expose other people's scars."

"I'm telling the truth."

"Then I'm afraid you won't be so happy to hear the next news."

"What's the news, you've seen a ghost?"

"You just saw the ghost, Ephia is not dead, and she is alive and well, she is now John's teacher."

"What... Are you sure that person is Ephia? ”

"What are these words? Could she have twins, and if there were two of her kind of women who were not beautiful and neurotic, it would be one more man to suffer. ”

"Okay, don't pretend, you can see that you can't forget her, what's the matter, maybe if she was looking for you, you would have promised to rush over immediately."

The conversation became more and more pleasant, and Belus was right, and Foley leaned back on the table, without any intention of ending the conversation.

Belus doesn't seem to have either.

"To be honest, I couldn't believe it when I saw her in the last bookstore a while ago, and even this feeling of disbelief is kind of, you know, maybe it doesn't sound good to say."

"It's kind of like hell."

"Yes, but I don't like the horrors, but I think of the cat in Pet Cemetery, which is really Stephen King's scariest thing."

"That's because people are afraid of their families dying."

"No, I think people are more afraid that they're not dead."

"It's like you're not afraid of death. I felt a chill run through my back. ”

Belus let out a "hiss" tremble, followed by a burst of laughter, this time mocking.

"I'll tell you the truth, a person who should be dead, but standing alive in front of you, this is the most terrible thing, you have no way to judge whether he is him, whether that person is the person you know."

"Because you don't know his purpose."

"That's right, we all act according to the purpose, and if we don't know the goal, how can we deal with another person?"

"Predictive purpose."

"So, how would you predict, how would you predict someone you don't think should exist."

"People are born out of an instinct to protect themselves."

"A resurrected cat, covered with the smell of dirt, a resurrected man..."

"Okay, you go out and bask in the sun, or you'll be the one who is insane."

"Well, I mean, I really think that Ephia never existed, in my mind I thought she didn't exist anymore, but she appeared in the bookstore that day and suddenly disappeared, and I thought it was a bad omen, full of bad things."

"You're too nervous, but I have to say, what you're saying is most likely true, and that pet cemetery may really exist."

"What..."

"But, of course it's not like that, you know horror and sci-fi are always different."

"Efia said something completely illogical."

"What?"

"Horror is the truth with the fake, and science fiction is the truth with the truth."

"She really doesn't have any logic."

Both men laughed, and it was a pleasant chat, and after walking out the house, Foley relived the conversation.

Later, he was convinced that this was the last time in his quiet life that he would talk to another person on the phone so easily. It was a happy time that can never be returned to.

Representative Foley picked up his car at the office, processed some mail, drank half a cup of coffee at 3 p.m., and drove east to the Belouss home.

Along the way, he made a number of decisions that made the road spacious and comfortable, with driverless cars speeding past him, police orders to stop driverless cars and no passengers, and empty cars occupying lanes to ease traffic congestion.

But even if it is captured by surveillance, it is nothing more than some fines, and it can be paid with a delay.

It was as if the cars were transporting ghosts from one place to another. There was nothing in the carriage, but as they raced past Forlì, Foley felt that something could be going on in there.

The beginning and end of the path are part of the story, they are actually happening, maybe a drug deal, a soul trade, and the devil knows what.

Although he built these machines that were becoming more and more human-like, Foley didn't like them from the bottom of his bones, and although he was familiar with Asimov's robot series, the more familiar he was, the more he couldn't believe that the future would be so peaceful, what if it was human wishful thinking?

But if it is really human wishful thinking, then it may be the best choice for human beings to go to the future, who is not wishful thinking, human beings are wishful thinking to evolve to the present.

This kind of problem can only be discussed, and there is no result. At least Asimov gave some choice to believe in a future in which robots and humans coexist.

Who knows, when science fiction is no longer a child, hiding in the corner of the kitchen and watching the back of his mother cooking, fantasizing about the private theater of the future; When science fiction merges with reality in too much of a hurry, who can predict the future.

It's really messing with it. He remembered Ephia's illogical theories, women were always like this, thinking that they were esoteric, and saying difficult sentences, as if they were a philosopher after reading a few philosophy books.

As he watched the ghost car pass by the window through the glass, Forlì remembered this sentence again, and this was the second time he thought of it today.

It had been a casual teaser before, but now it made him feel as if the ghosts were passing around him, and there were countless pupilless eyes watching him all around him, not just him, they were watching everyone but themselves.