"You're distracted, Miss Mosilare."

Lady Mosassi, who was sitting across from her, lowered her head and took a sip of tea, looking at the young girl gently, "Maybe we should change the subject to something more interesting?" ”

"Huh? Ah, I'm sorry, I hope you'll forgive me graciously," Mosilaire blinked, an apologetic smile on his face. "I'm just thinking about something."

"Hmm." Ms. Messasi put down the teacup in her hand and looked at her student with a smile on her face, a hint of mischievous cunning hidden in her eyes.

Perhaps staring at him for a long time, Mosilaire finally pursed his lips, a shy look on his face. "Ah...... You, don't you wonder what I'm bothered by? ”

"A smart girl like you can always get out of those annoying problems." Ms. Mosasi suddenly touched the palm-wood square table in the "Oasis" teahouse, "This table is so beautiful, how much do you think it will cost me to bring it home?" ”

"I guess it took a lot of credits." Mosilaire rested his head on his stacked arms, staring at the tiny needle-like tea leaves floating in the teapot, and the white gas wafting from it, "Wooden furniture is expensive, Professor Messissi. ”

"Yes, it costs a lot of money," Mosasi looked with interest at his crooked face reflected on the smooth tabletop, "but things of real value are always hard to come by, aren't they?" ”

Her eyes suddenly became a little wandering again, "Thankfully, I already have it." ”

"What do you have?" Mosilaire raised her head and looked at Madame Messissi's face with some bewilderment—did she mean the table?

But Madame Messissi only smiled at Mosilere, and it seemed to contain very complex emotions that she could not yet understand.

"You'll understand, my dear Miss Mosilaire."

She blinked to the giant window beside her, and the gorgeous and gorgeous night view of Central City was immediately replaced by a verdant primeval forest that shimmered golden in the sun.

These stereoscopic images collected and projected from the eco-planet in real time are really beautiful, but it seems that only advanced users of edge communication can enjoy this kind of service.

This meant that Ms. Messissi paid a hefty annual fee for her services to Edge Communications – and it seemed that the erudite professor would enjoy it far more than she thought.

"One more thing, I heard you're going to join the army?" Lady Mosassi suddenly remembered something in the dense jungle of life, and withdrew her gaze from the infinite stretch of the ancient trees and twisting vines.

"Yes, Professor Messi." Mosilaire held his head in his hands, but his eyes were fixed on a retro glass lamp embedded in the pure white wall in the room, "Can you tell me more about your adventure?" ”

"It's been a long time, Miss Mosilare, it's been too long," said Madame Mossasi, pouring the cooled tea for Moschelaire, and pouring some hot clear green tea into her little teacup from the clear teapot, "so long that it's no longer suitable for you young people." You should pursue your own story, your own legend. ”

"But even so, joining the army is not a very wise choice, my dear girl, you really should think about it." Madame Mosassi sat back in her soft bamboo chair and stared earnestly at Mosile's still somewhat childish face, as if she wanted to find something in those bright eyes.

But she couldn't find any flaws or wavers in it, and there was only a hesitant determination in Mosilelle's moving eyes—it seemed that she had really made up her mind.

So Professor Mosasi picked up the delicate pink teacup, took a sip of the green tea, which was still slightly bitter, and lowered his eyes, not knowing what he was thinking. It wasn't until the pot of tea was all drunk and the golden sunlight had dimmed that she sighed softly, "Technical support is the best option, Miss Mosilaire. Also, remember to pay. ”

Mosilaire gave a shallow smile at her departing back, "Of course, Professor Messiasi. ”

Bathed in the chirping of birds and the fine sunlight, she took a sip of the tea in her cup, savoring the bland and astringent taste of cold tea, and the sweetness that was born soon.

When Mosilaire walked out of the Life Experience Center, it was only about half past eight in the evening.

The wide road in front of the huge building was unusually bright, but there were only a few pedestrians scattered around, and the various shuttles located 120 meters above her head were terrifyingly numerous, densely forming several torrents of steel that flowed and intertwined.

Leaning against a large OLED wall that was generating light pollution, Mosilaire took the bracelet out of his pocket and called a small shuttle for himself on the tick transport.

A small MK-III single-man hoverplane quickly broke away from its established circular orbit and landed vertically in front of Mosilair, the transparent silver-white fuselage reflecting the gorgeous colors of the surrounding full-coverage advertising wall, and the blurred neon spots formed some bizarre and rising images on its surface.

And before stepping onto the hoverplane, Mosilele remembers turning off its free passenger towing service — she's neither disabled nor an elderly person or child in need of special care — and she prefers to jump into the passenger compartment by herself rather than be gently and methodically carried into the passenger compartment by the towing beam.

While it doesn't make much sense — these metal orbs are never the least surprised — it's the same as this one.

The levitator didn't even make a slight shake or noise, just closed the reinforced fiberglass hatch on the left side, carrying her up smoothly before sliding into a second-class virtual track filled by a new shuttle and a traditional suspension machine.

Sometimes, Mosilare can see some interesting antiques through the gaps of high-speed vehicles through the simulated holographic screen, but these old things that still stubbornly follow the flight dynamics are limited to less than 60 meters. So for a moment's notice, or a little farther away, Mosilaire could only see a bloated body that was struggling to crawl rapidly from view—it was clear that they had long since fallen out of pace, as if they could never keep up with even the oldest hoverplanes and shuttles.

The loud noise they make as they fly low altitudes always makes Mosilele think they're some kind of gasping, terrifying monsters in steel skins, so she doesn't really like the old ones - of course, it's still interesting to see these rugged old vehicles in the middle of a series of beautiful, boring shuttles.

Other than these inconsequential little "accidents", the scene outside the simulated screen is really nothing to see - the second type of virtual road is mostly lined with straight, treated darkened metal walls, with embedded oversized cheap LED screens repeatedly building colorful, fancy and boring fool advertisements.

So Mosileelle has always paid little attention to the landscapes that pass by quickly—most of the time she likes to close her eyes and quietly feel the pulse and breath of this gleaming world being covered and forgotten in her rare leisure—except that she likes to doze off in the comfortable, warm super-fabric chairs while thinking about life.

But today is really different.

There were no signs or warnings on the hoverboard numbered "LrDE-Heather" that Mosilaire was riding, and the virtual operation screen was remotely locked.

Lane 103, which had always been unimpeded, actually stopped flowing and froze smoothly in mid-air.

Some somber sounds came from in front of her, especially in the silence of the streets. Several light "Jiaolong" reconnaissance shuttles slowly emerged from the edge of the glittering corporate building, and the Edelman metal armor covered with a protective force field of A-film shimmered a different kind of cold light purple luster under the colorful neon lights that flickered at night. Behind their pair of beautiful, spewing high-velocity streams of gas, there are more vicious, tough, and indifferent military combat airframes.

All vehicles that happen to be located near Wuma Street and are locked by the artificial intelligence "Deep Blue" Level 2 can now only force their passengers to stay in place with them - and any commands related to the movement of the shuttle and the activation of the hatch cannot be effectively carried out by the passengers inside the locked vehicle, except for a huge emergency - in other words, these shuttles, which are normally more efficient and convenient because of "Deep Blue", are now more like a hovering intelligent tin coffin that can provide beautiful music and comfortable soft chairs.

Oh, you don't have to worry about Miss "Deep Blue" quietly murdering you, the permissions of the Daystar-level intelligent management system are strictly monitored by the military, and you can even submit a detailed exit request to Miss "Deep Blue" in an emergency situation where your life is at stake - as long as you have a good enough reason, you can probably pass the double review of "Deep Blue" and human customer service - that's really human, isn't it?

Because military movements have not occurred frequently on this planet before, military travel that has been common in recent days has probably been used as a display of military authority - military combat units can go from the 1080m military special channel or 3600m special channel, which not only ensures the secrecy of military operations, but also definitely does not disturb ordinary people flying in near-earth orbit.

Mosilaire clasped his hands to his chest and couldn't help but sneer. Then she remembered something and took out a glittering customer commemorative coin from the pocket of her jacket.

The reverse of this coin is laser-engraved with a delicate and simple cluster of purple bamboo plum blossoms, with distinct outlines and full petals flowing in various shades of dreamy pink and purple colors under the pink light of the cabin.

Mosilaire placed his right hand on the commemorative coin, slowly and gently touched the uneven and cold lines of the three-petal flower with his index finger, and then suddenly lost his mind, and subconsciously touched his faintly aching right eye.

Fortunately, these uninvited guests were just a standard Imperial Navy assault squadron, and no matter how slow the reconnaissance plane at the head of Rao was going, it would finally be over in more than ten minutes - she really didn't have the patience to wait any longer.

The virtual orbit of 103, which was still in a state of interruption a moment ago, has restarted the circulation of day after day, and even the foliage that is full of fluttering leaves has regained its vitality and vitality.

It's just that none of the trees that line the streets fit the definition of a creature – whether it's the rough bark of the ravines in the dreamy light or the scattered leaves stirred up by the passing vehicles, they are in fact fakes generated by air projection technology, and they are all supported by specially made lightweight PVC plastic pipes.

It seems that humans have always been very talented in imitation and counterfeiting, which is really interesting.

Mosilaire threw the commemorative coin in his hand upward, looked at its charming highlight color reversed in mid-air, and quickly grabbed it with his left hand as it was pulled by gravity, and then slowly spread out the closed palm.

"Zhumei Biotechnology Co., Ltd."

The obverse of the coin is engraved with only a dignified line, just like what she had just seen in the high-speed spinning, connected image.