The suddenly withdrawn Shu Bao and Tesla, who was busy dismantling and reconstructing the auxiliary brain, left the group no choice but to further postpone their departure from the Chaotic World.
With little else to do, T33674 continued decrypting the data they had obtained. Meanwhile, Yu Lingqi astonishingly requested the 70-million-word historical material on the Mechanoids from T33674 and began poring over it, determined to find inconsistencies and disprove the history recorded by the Mechanoids.
On the other hand, Fu Qing devoted himself to guarding the curled-up ball of fur that was Shu Bao. Although he didn’t understand the sudden withdrawal, his instincts as a fellow cultivator told him how critical it was to ensure Shu Bao wasn’t disturbed.
As Shu Bao remained unresponsive, the spatial tears outside gradually stabilized, and the horrifying wails that had penetrated the soundproofing of the mechanical structures ceased. This brought some relief to everyone.
After nearly ten days, Tesla had completed the reconstruction of the dismantled sub-brain. The rebuilt sub-brain was no longer shaped like a large brain but was now a smooth silver metallic sphere about the size of a fist. However, its interior revealed a complex and unique world when the sphere unfolded.
T33674 remained highly vigilant toward this metallic sphere, as he discovered that it was essentially a rebooted sub-brain. The difference, however, was that this sub-brain had an independent thought module and no longer identified itself as part of the Mechanoids.
Upon learning this, T33674 tried probing the sphere for secrets about the mechanical race, but the sphere explained that the Mechanoids’ secrecy mechanisms were highly advanced. Now that it no longer considered itself a part of the Mechanoids, it was stripped of such knowledge.
Though disappointed by this response, T33674 found it unsurprising. Extracting the core secrets of the Mechanoids wasn’t easy and would require continued effort on his part. He once again immersed himself in his work.
Over time, the metallic sphere became the most talkative presence in the villa. It seemed fully aware of its purpose and took a keen interest in its equally spherical, furry master. Unfortunately, no matter how it approached, the two-antennaed man nearby would always kick it away.
Though it never succeeded, the sphere never gave up. Its daily activities alternated between its persistent approaches, wandering around the city, initiating one-sided conversations with the villa’s residents, and occasionally pestering Yu Lingqi.
After days of relentless reading, Yu Lingqi developed heavy dark circles under his eyes. Though ten days wasn’t enough to finish the entirety of the Mechanoids’ history, he confidently declared that he had identified inconsistencies in their records.
Whenever the chatty metallic sphere overheard such remarks, it would rush over to spectate, ask questions, and inevitably spark a debate.
Every debate ended in Yu Lingqi’s defeat. After all, despite its diminutive size, the metallic sphere was still a supercomputer, holding the knowledge of the entire city and even the heritage of the Mechanoids.
As a self-proclaimed lazy “salted fish”, Yu Lingqi had no chance of winning against a supercomputer in a debate.
That day, Yu Lingqi once again found new evidence in the records and was in the midst of a heated debate with the metallic sphere. The others were long used to their antics and didn’t bother to intervene.
“Here! Look at this! In the 1,877th instance of humanity developing into a modern civilization, humans went extinct due to a global supervolcanic eruption—this is exactly what the Mechanoids’ history records state! But then there are mentions of wars and humans afterward. Isn’t this an obvious contradiction?”
The metallic sphere, delighted to have a conversation partner, spun in midair. “Because new humans were born, of course! And there were also humans who survived by escaping during those wars and disasters. While human bodies are fragile, their survival capabilities are extraordinary.”
“Fine, even if that’s the case, in this universe we also have the beast race, the Zerg race, and various other highly intelligent species. None of them has caused the universe’s destruction!”
“That’s because humans have much shorter lifespans. The Mechanoids have existed since the dawn of the universe, but human civilizations rarely last more than 100,000 years before collapsing. For the Mechanoids, 100,000 years is like ten minutes. It’s a matter of perspective—like a single cell in a human body, unable to grasp the timespan full human experiences.”
Yu Lingqi scoffed. “That’s an awful analogy. I’m not some cell.”
“Oh?” The metallic sphere glowed briefly. “Then how can you be sure that the universe itself isn’t some kind of gigantic organism? According to human theories, the Big Bang resembles the rapid development of a fertilized egg, the universe’s expansion mirrors its growth, stars are its newly formed cells, and the universe’s destruction is its death.”
Yu Lingqi froze. “…We’re debating, not telling horror stories! I’m not a cell, end of discussion!”
“Sure, sure. Maybe your planet is a single cell, with the atmosphere acting as the cell membrane, and you’re just a carrier of energy—”
“Ahhhh! Shut up! Tesla! Why did you give it such a talkative personality?!” Yu Lingqi’s hair practically stood on end as he imagined himself ceasing to exist—or worse, becoming a cancer cell.
Tesla’s calm voice broke through the tension, stating matter-of-factly, “That wasn’t my design. It developed that attribute on its own. It’s an independent entity with its own personality and preferences.”
Yu Lingqi fell silent, his face darkening. Somehow, that explanation was even more terrifying—after all, fully autonomous artificial intelligence was a taboo in this universe.
Defeated once again in the debate, Yu Lingqi slumped in dejection. Just as he was gathering himself for another round, the furry little bundle, which had been dormant for days, stirred awake. The metallic sphere was quicker than anyone else, darting over in a flash.
The others quickly gathered around as well. Fu Qing leaned in with concern. “What happened? Why did you suddenly enter a meditative state? Did you encounter some kind of trouble?”
Shu Bao nodded honestly. “Yes, it was a problem I couldn’t resolve.”
“Tell us about it,” Fu Qing offered. As a loyal teammate, the butterfly wouldn’t shirk his duty.
But Shu Bao shook his head. “No, even if I explained it, you wouldn’t understand. Worse, it might lead to irreversible consequences.”
Fu Qing’s antennae curled tightly together in apprehension. Shu Bao, noticing, blinked and added, “By the way, do you know about this food called Da Da Bubble Gum? Your antennae kind of look like it!” As he spoke, the mouse nearly started drooling.
Fu Qing froze. Though he had no idea what bubble gum was, he instinctively felt his antennae were in danger.
“Observation, correct?” Tesla asked calmly.
Shu Bao’s eyes lit up. As expected of his favorite genius—Tesla was incredibly perceptive and frighteningly composed. The mouse nodded vigorously. “Exactly, observation!”
T33674 understood immediately. “Oh, so it’s observation!”
Shu Bao, T33674, and Tesla exchanged glances, nodded at one another, and silently confirmed their mutual understanding.
The metallic sphere flickered twice and flew into the center of the trio. “I know too! I know too! It’s observation!”
Yu Lingqi, his head full of question marks, rubbed his dark eye circles and asked Fu Qing, who had remained silent nearby. “Did you understand what they meant? Or did I miss something while I was reading?”
Fu Qing didn’t respond immediately. After a moment of thought, he nodded. “Yes, it’s observation.”
Yu Lingqi: “…”
In the end, his overwhelming curiosity drove him to approach Shu Bao directly for answers. However, Shu Bao simply replied that it was better if he didn’t know. Unwilling to give up, Yu Lingqi secretly sought out the metallic sphere, which had since bonded with its new owner and received the name Yinzhu.
Yinzhu didn’t refuse, claiming it could explain the matter.
For the first time, Yu Lingqi thought the sphere wasn’t so bad. He patted it and couldn’t help but ask, “Is it really okay to tell me? Shu Bao seemed unwilling to talk about it.”
“It’s fine. Based on my observations and analysis over time, I’ve determined your intelligence is limited. Even if you know the truth, it won’t cause any harm. Just make sure you don’t share this with highly intelligent individuals, like Tesla,” Yinzhu replied.
Yu Lingqi: “…” Why did he have to ask that extra question?
Afterward, Yinzhu began explaining the relationship between consciousness and reality, as well as the connections between the microscopic and macroscopic worlds. Yu Lingqi struggled to follow, feeling completely lost. The only part he remembered was the conclusion: the chaotic world emerged because humanity observed dark matter.
When the explanation ended, Yinzhu flickered twice. “See? Nothing happened. Don’t worry; you won’t cause any harm.”
Yu Lingqi felt mocked. Frustrated, he stormed off to confront Shu Bao again, demanding to know what “observation” meant.
The fluffy little mouse asked in response, “During the time I was in seclusion, did you eat well and practice running diligently?”
Yu Lingqi: “…” Not really. He’d been completely engrossed in reading. For some reason, he felt a bit guilty. Hugging the pile of food Shu Bao handed him, he sheepishly wandered away.
Left behind, Shu Bao sighed. “Not knowing can be a blessing. Constantly controlling one’s consciousness is exhausting for a mouse!”
In truth, when T33674 mentioned the warnings, Shu Bao had instinctively thought of the concept of observing dark matter. It was akin to Schrödinger’s cat: when the box remained unopened, the cat inside was in a chaotic superposition of being both alive and dead.
However, once someone opened the box or used any observational method to examine it, the cat’s superposition collapsed into one definitive state—alive or dead.
Dark matter functioned similarly. When unobserved, it existed in a chaotic state, omnipresent throughout the universe. In a sense, dark matter was the universe itself.
But humanity’s curiosity, coupled with the inevitable trajectory of their development, led them to “observe” dark matter. This act of observation caused dark matter to collapse—transforming it into either the chaotic world or the material reality.
Once this observation is initiated, the collapse becomes irreversible. As long as humanity exists, this act of observation will persist indefinitely. Of course, “observation” here doesn’t necessarily mean direct visual perception; it can also manifest as comprehension, awareness, reasoning, or validation.
At the moment Shu Bao speculated about it, they inadvertently became an observer, triggering a frenzied expansion of the surrounding chaotic world. The mouse immediately shut down all five senses and spiritual consciousness, entering a state of no self and no thought. It took a prolonged period of adjustment to regain control over their own mind.
For most humans, however, this is exceedingly difficult. It’s akin to telling a person afraid of ghosts not to be scared or to avoid thinking about them—this command often backfires, with the brain obsessively fixating on the forbidden thought.
If this secret were to be exposed or broadcasted through a live-streaming system, thousands or even millions of humans could become observers. This would accelerate the chaotic universe’s collapse, potentially leading to a similar collapse in the current universe as well.
