"Resonance Anomaly Warning!"

A piercing alarm suddenly rang out in the dim memory room, and the circulating red light made these department dignitaries with evil intentions look like ghosts.

"What's going on?" The commissar yawned in the sore light that pierced his eyes, and pointed to the nerve resonance console, "I just implore you to turn off the alarm first, otherwise my photosensitive epilepsy will definitely have a seizure." ”

"But the physical examination report says that you don't have photosensitive epilepsy at all, Comrade Political Commissar." Katyusha raised her hand and twisted half a turn on a beautiful red knob on her right-hand side, and the noisy alarm suddenly stopped, and the previously dimly lit operation room began to brighten, except for a mess of snowflakes that could not be seen in the high-definition display used to play retrospective memories.

"Vital signs are waning—" Katyusha, who was the operator, injected her with some experimental drugs as planned, but she couldn't stop more and more bright red blood from seeping out of her nose and gradually crawling like an earthworm all over Mosilaire's quiet, gentle face.

"Eighty percent of them are going to fail again."

"I guess so."

Unabashed schadenfreude laughter rang out in the control room.

"She still hasn't quit the nerve resonance?" The young director stared at Mosilaire's face from the probe of the resonance chamber, "Isn't it useful to even emphasize safety words like this?" ”

"I think so." "This is the eighth time, you'd better show us something that shows us something that shows the value of your work, and don't perform this senseless human tragedy in front of me every time like this - the money is not from the sky, and our patience is limited." ”

"Uh—we'll do better next time—" The commissar's beard shook twice, and he touched the brim of his hat in embarrassment, "I promise you." ”

"That's for the best." He looked at Mosilaire, who was about to die of weakness, looked down and thought for a moment, then turned and left the stuffy room with his followers and men.

As soon as the man started, the crowd, who had already felt bored, pushed and shoved to get out through the narrow iron door of the control room. Their solemn expressions, which had been solemn at first, relaxed as if their faces had changed dramatically as the man left, and their brows fluttered and they began to talk to each other about trivial and inconsequential gossip, as if they didn't care at all about what would happen to this fragile life in front of them—it had nothing to do with them anyway.

"Failure is the mother of success." A major with a funny mustache patted the commissar on the shoulder as he left, and squeezed his eyes a few times at the dejected old commissar comrade, "Of course, it can also be infertile." ”

"Hahahaha——!"

"Oh my god, Kataivsky, you're a genius!"

"Whoa—Coke killed me—ha!"

This subtle humor made the audience laugh before they had time to get out, and the room was filled with a cheerful heat for the first time.

"Phew——!" When only he and Katyusha were left in the control room, he couldn't help but spat on the ground and the yellow-spitting old commissar screamed and scolded: "Some skinny dogs who don't have long eyes, old cucumbers that have been pickled too much!" ”

"The short-sighted, slippery, ugly boar skin, the most smelly sock that fell into the gutter!"

"She's dead—" Katyusha interrupted his clumsy scolding with a blank face, calling up a list of Mosiliel's vital signs and pointing to him, "regular nerve signal activity will cease completely within 10 minutes." ”

"Dead is dead." Comrade Political Commissar hastily glanced at the dizzyingly detailed physical signs and stopped paying attention, and only thought about venting so bitterly in his heart, which was really painful!

"I'll leave work earlier today, and I'll leave the corpse to you to dispose of—" He refreshedly spat out the stuffy air that had accumulated in his chest, and took out the manual control key to the organic waste disposal room from his obviously enlarged trouser pocket and threw it to Katyusha, "You know, tonight is my wedding anniversary with my wife, and I don't want to be splashed with fairy juice by that tigress after being late like last time." ”

"I remember your wedding anniversary better than you, Comrade Political Commissar, after all, I booked your annual commemorative restaurant." Katyusha, who stood up, reached out and steadily caught the retro mechanical key he threw into the air, and there was still no expression on her delicate face, "I wish you and your wife a happy meal." ”

"I didn't find 'pleasure' on your face." He took off his hat and touched the sweat oozing from his bare skull, "Why is it so hot today, Katyusha?" ”

"The air conditioner in Area C has been broken for several days, Comrade Political Commissar, I have already found someone to fix it." She lifted her glasses and answered his questions succinctly.

"These moths who don't get paid." The old commissar raised his thick eyebrows like a caterpillar, and couldn't wait to get out of the stuffy room.

"Oh, yes!" As soon as he walked out of the small door of the control room, he suddenly stuck into his head: "I have one more thing to explain." ”

"Please." Katyusha, who sat back on the operating table, turned off all the sensing equipment of the cylindrical resonator at this time, and her face was still as calm as ever.

"Let that fool of Vakilian stop eating shit tomato hot sauce next time with the Truth Badge that I spent a lot of money on to imitate, the real Truth Badge will only take the nutrient solution provided by the special line, and the Truth Badge that must be kept properly will never be stained - do a full set of tricks, don't find a flaw in her!"

"Of course, Comrade Political Commissar." Her eyes deepened imperceptibly, "Never." ”

——————

"Buzz ——!"

A crystal clear shuttle flew overhead, whistling a soft, peaceful breeze from the long alley filled with garbage.

She walked aimlessly along the black wall that surrounded her, but the pavement beneath her feet was not very smooth, so that the potholes were filled with a lot of flowing and soft brilliance.

She didn't want her shiny but fragile dreams to be crushed by her stained shoes, so she always jumped reverently and fearfully, hiding from the sins and temptations that had gone deep into her bones in the psychedelic night.

"Miss, you are a kind-hearted person. Good people will be rewarded. The old beggar shoved the soft bread she had given him into his mouth, and muttered with his shriveled lips repeating the blessing he could only give: "A good man will be rewarded...... Good people will be rewarded......"

She pursed her lips and smiled starkly under the brim of her face-covering hat, her thin figure trying to continue in the direction of the wind.

"Miss, what's your name?" The old beggar's cloudy eyes were filled with a small hope and longing, and he struggled to prop up his upper body and stop her light steps.

"I don't have a name." Her voice was gentle and clean, like the bright water that had sunk some small leaves at the bottom in autumn.

But the old beggar is also stubborn, stubbornly like a reef isolated by the sea that has been washed thousands of times.

"Everyone has a name, miss." His unkempt beard shone in the dim streetlight, "I just want to repay you later, miss." I will never tell anyone about it, I swear by my head. ”

She stood in the darkness and pondered for a moment, then looked up at the heavenly dome that had been shattered by the Great Tower—it was clear and clear, but it looked much shrunken than it had been when she had been a child.

But the still bustling, brilliant neon lights never stopped.

A giant hologram array on a nearby building is playing an old but classic old-time sci-fi movie — her favorite.

"My name?" She closed her eyes in the colorful glimmer that hit her face, and breathed in the throbbing and freedom of the warm wind. "My name is Mosilele, Mosilele Silverwing."