Pei Ran didn’t bother with him anymore. She deliberately remained silent, and W, understanding the situation, also stayed quiet, as silent as a lump of iron held in one’s hand.
Pei Ran walked through one alley after another, occasionally catching glimpses of patrol drones flying by, though none of them noticed her.
There were also pedestrians on the road, each of them hurrying along.
More and more people were finding ways to cover their mouths. Some, like Pei Ran, had their mouths sealed with tape; others wore masks, and some used large binder clips to clamp their upper and lower lips together. Whether it hurt or not didn’t matter—what mattered was that it made it inconvenient to speak.
People wore expressions of vigilance, refusing to make a sound, constantly observing the state of those around them. They kept a considerable distance from one another, and if anyone got too close, they would quickly dart to the side.
Isolation. Distance. Silence.
After walking for a while, something glowing appeared ahead, illuminating a large section of the sidewalk under the gloomy, overcast sky—
It was a half-person-high virtual screen, filled with text.
Beside the virtual screen stood a man in his fifties or sixties, wearing a neat navy-blue uniform with the words “Federal Bureau of Public Security” printed in white.
He wasn’t wearing a hat, and his thinning, graying hair was slightly disheveled. The lower half of his face was covered by a mask, leaving only his eyes exposed.
A few passersby stopped, keeping a few steps away from him, and communicated with him through their wristband screens.
W spoke in her ear, “It’s a public security officer from the Bureau.”
This was the first time Pei Ran had seen a human from the Bureau since she had crossed over.
W seemed to guess what she was thinking. “The last batch of human field officers in White Harbor City retired or resigned three months ago. Routine patrol duties are now entirely carried out by intelligent patrol robots.”
No wonder this officer’s uniform lacked a chest badge and shoulder insignia.
He was a retired officer who, in these chaotic times, had put on his uniform again and voluntarily stepped forward to maintain order.
Pei Ran: “The Federation doesn’t want to use humans like him, but insists on using those crazy patrol drones?”
W’s tone was objective: “Actually, those intelligent patrol robots performed exceptionally well during the trial phase, almost flawlessly. But this time, they’ve encountered an unprecedented situation. They lack experience and don’t yet understand how to respond. They’re doing their best to keep society functioning normally.”
It was hard to tell whether they were maintaining order or creating chaos.
W continued calmly, “They have incredibly powerful self-learning capabilities. Given some time, they’ll gradually become smarter. Right now, they’ve just been activated and are immediately facing a state of silence, with no guidance from the Bureau. It’s like a newborn baby suddenly being asked to take an advanced mathematics exam alone. It’s normal for them to struggle.”
He was speaking up for his kind. Pei Ran retorted, “A newborn baby? Does your newborn baby carry a gun?”
W fell silent.
It was rare to see a human security officer, and perhaps he wouldn’t be as unreasonable as the robots.
Pei Ran hesitated for a moment, then cautiously moved a little closer to read the words on the virtual screen beside him.
The front part was full of precautions, reminding everyone not to speak, not to send text messages, to stay away immediately if someone made a sound, and to avoid any devices that could produce noise, and so on.
This was followed by a line:
[Please return to your homes, lock your doors and windows, remain calm, and wait for further notice from the Federal Government.]
A passerby was hurriedly typing on their wristband screen:
[Is it safe outside the city? How large is the affected area?]
[Will the Federal Government relocate us to a safe place?]
The old officer typed: [I’m sorry, we don’t know yet. Please go home and wait for further notice. Don’t be afraid. As long as you remain silent, you’ll be safe for now.]
His uniform lent credibility to his words, and the passersby, hearing his advice, dispersed one after another.
The old officer didn’t seem to know much more than Pei Ran, so she didn’t get any closer.
The officer looked up and noticed Pei Ran at a glance.
The girl stood alone at the entrance of the alley, distant and isolated on the dimly lit street as night approached. Her mouth was firmly sealed with tape, and her eyes were filled with detachment and wariness.
The old officer thought for a moment, then quickly typed a line on his wristband screen. He adjusted the virtual screen, enlarged it, and turned it toward Pei Ran.
[No matter how difficult things are now, no matter how bad the situation seems, it will definitely pass. Hang in there.]
Pei Ran silently looked at the words.
Another passerby approached, an elderly person carrying a large bag in one hand and holding the hand of a child no more than two or three years old in the other.
Pei Ran nodded at the officer, then turned and continued walking.
After walking some distance, a faint sound seemed to come from behind:
“Ah, be careful…”
Pei Ran turned her head.
Perhaps the child had tripped on the edge of the sidewalk. The elderly person had instinctively spoken the words, but immediately realized their mistake. They stood frozen in place, holding the child’s hand. The child, confused, looked up at the elderly person, wondering why they had suddenly stopped.
The officer, who was nearby, didn’t hesitate and rushed toward the child.
Bang.
The people on the sidewalk were gone, replaced by three splashes of blood.
The officer’s wristband flew off, hitting something, and the virtual screen filled with words went dark. In the shadow of the building, the sidewalk sank into darkness, like the end of an era.
Pei Ran turned and continued walking.
“How large is the affected area?”
W, as a safety agent, might know something.
“The entire Federation,” W replied. “Land, sea, everywhere.”
There was no escape.
Pei Ran fell silent for a moment before asking again, “So what’s the cause?”
W answered, “We don’t fully understand it yet, and it’s classified. I’m sorry, Pei Ran, I can’t tell you.”
Pei Ran had found the right path, and by the time it was completely dark, she finally made it safely back to Fantasy Wing Tower.
The building, immersed in silence, stood like a towering monster, but there were still faint lights shining from some of the apartment windows.
After a day like this, some people were still alive.
The lobby was dark, and Pei Ran turned into the stairwell. There were no windows in the stairwell, making it pitch black, so dark that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
W, who had been silent the entire way, let out a soft “Hmm?” at this moment.
“According to federal fire safety regulations,” he said, “emergency exits must have sufficient lighting. Even during a power outage, there should be emergency backup power to keep the lights on.”
Pei Ran replied, “The lights were on during the day. Maybe they’re broken now. Can you see?”
“Of course,” W said. “My camera has night vision capabilities, so I can see the environment clearly even in these lighting conditions.”
Pei Ran didn’t turn on her wristband’s light. Instead, she relied on her senses, quietly and silently making her way up the pitch-black stairwell.
The steps were all the same height, and the number of steps per floor was consistent. Despite the darkness, Pei Ran walked faster and faster.
W couldn’t help but ask, “Aren’t you going to turn on your wristband light?”
“No need,” Pei Ran said. “You can see, can’t you? Are you afraid of the dark?”
W paused for a moment. “I’m an artificial intelligence. I don’t have emotional reactions, so I don’t feel fear—but aren’t you afraid of the dark? I thought humans were naturally afraid of the dark.”
Pei Ran was silent for a while, climbing a few more steps before finally answering.
“Not everyone. I once read a book.”
She had been mostly silent the entire way, but now she seemed willing to talk. W listened quietly.
“In the world of that book, adults often had to go out to gather supplies and would temporarily leave children under five in places like daycare centers. Once, a cave where one of these daycare centers was located was discovered by enemies…”
“…The power was cut off, and the cave was plunged into darkness, with only the enemies’ searchlights sweeping back and forth. In the end, all thirty-five children in the daycare center died.”
She said, “Only one survived because she hid in the darkest corner and didn’t make a sound from start to finish.”
W, trying to keep the conversation going, asked, “What’s the name of the book you mentioned?”
Pei Ran replied indifferently, “I forgot.”
Floor by floor, Pei Ran silently counted the levels in her mind until she finally reached the twenty-first floor.
She stood by the fire door, catching her breath, then gently pushed it open a crack.
The hallway lights were also off, plunging the space into complete darkness. Pei Ran judged the distance by feel and quietly made her way to her apartment door.
“You really have night vision and can see in the dark?” Pei Ran suddenly asked again.
Since she was initiating the conversation, W immediately replied, “Of course I do. I can see very clearly. Night and day make no difference to me.”
“Good. Once I open the door, be ready to attack.”
Without waiting for his response, Pei Ran had already unwrapped the scarf covering the metal sphere and began counting down: “Three, two, one!”
She pressed her left index finger on the fingerprint lock, quickly pulled the door open, and with her right mechanical hand, she shoved the metal sphere through the gap into the apartment.
The sphere went in, but she herself stayed hidden outside the door.
W: “…”
Inside the apartment, lights flashed abruptly, and flames erupted, illuminating the space like daylight. The sound of clashing and banging filled the air, chaotic and intense.
In less than a second, with two loud explosions, the chaos ended.
W spoke up, addressing the person who had unceremoniously hidden outside the door: “You can come in now.”
Pei Ran cautiously pushed the door open and peeked inside.
W had already turned on the sphere’s built-in light. The coat rack by the door was smashed, shoes were scattered everywhere, and parts of something were strewn across the floor and the table by the window. Among the debris were fragments of navy-blue shells, unmistakably from patrol drones.
Pei Ran had to admit that W, this AI, was incredibly powerful, tirelessly obedient, and extremely useful.
W said, exasperated, “You knew there were intelligent patrol robots hiding in the apartment?”
Pei Ran hummed in acknowledgment. “When I was downstairs, I noticed one of my windows was open. Didn’t you see it?”
W paused. “I didn’t access the building’s structural plans, so I didn’t know which window was yours.”
He added, “There were three patrol robots. Two were taken care of, and one escaped.”
The patrol drones, which usually operated in pairs, had appeared in an odd number this time. Pei Ran guessed blindly, “Could it be that relative of yours again?”
W was silent for a moment before replying, “Yes. CT122.”
Pei Ran gritted her teeth. “Didn’t someone say that if its energy block was hit, it could only fly another hundred meters at most?”
W couldn’t refute this. “I don’t know how it managed it either. It seems to have found a way to repair itself, and it was hiding at the back near the window. As soon as it realized we were prepared, it fired and escaped the moment it entered.”
It was unbelievably cunning.
Pei Ran wasn’t entirely reassured. She carried the metal sphere and carefully inspected the entire apartment.
“They actually managed to find my place.”
And then they arrived ahead of time, lying in wait inside the apartment to ambush her.
“Theoretically, they shouldn’t be able to,” W replied. “They’re patrol robots responsible for the downtown area. Their internal databases only contain information on residents from that region, so they shouldn’t recognize you. Plus, with the network down, they can’t connect to the Bureau’s database to look up your information…”
He paused, “So the only explanation is that CT122 managed to contact the patrol robots responsible for this area, transmitted your facial data to them, and found your home address.”
Pei Ran realized something. “Are you saying these drones can communicate with each other? How do they transmit information? Won’t they explode? Or does the Bureau have some special communication signal?”
“No, the Bureau uses civilian signals too, which are also restricted right now.”
W said, “I suspect that CT122 has figured out the rule that making noise causes self-destruction and has learned to add effective information to images to communicate with other patrol robots.”
Pei Ran was surprised. “That smart?”
W said calmly, “They’re artificial intelligence, not artificial stupidity.”
Pei Ran scoffed. “If they understand that making noise causes them to self-destruct, then they should know that their companions weren’t killed by me. They were the ones who kept blabbering and brought it on themselves.”
W patiently explained, “Pei Ran, think about it carefully. The other robots did self-destruct because they made noise, but CT122 is different. It saw us directly attack its companion. You’d better hope it hasn’t sent your facial data to other patrol robots in the city.”
Pei Ran shivered.
What he said was entirely possible.
The escaped CT122, hand in hand with other drones, came to her home to ambush her, only to be attacked again, further solidifying her “assault on an officer” charge.
If it managed to send her facial data to all the patrol drones in the city, she would become a Level L16 wanted criminal in all of White Harbor City—an enemy of all “drones.”
Pei Ran cursed, “Artificial stupidity.”
W: “…”