As the period was drawn, the green light spot in her mind vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
The piercing roar of the engine came to an abrupt halt.
Ahead in the air, the hovering vehicle that had been charging straight towards them suddenly lost power.
In the ensuing silence, everything around seemed to slow down. Pei Ran saw that, due to inertia, the hover car continued to rush towards the platform, but having lost engine power, it couldn’t maintain altitude and arced downward.
Boom—
A loud crash.
The hover car missed the platform and crashed into the building’s exterior wall several meters below the station. Like a stunned bird, the dark blue car flipped and spun uncontrollably, plummeting into the unfathomable depths between the buildings.
Not far away, a small yellow vehicle escaped into the high sky, taking advantage of the chaos to dive between two buildings and disappear. The security bureau’s hover car did not bother with its fallen companion, but instead, with a screech, chased after it.
The long-haired girl pressed her back tightly against the door, stunned for several seconds before she found her voice.
“My… goodness!”
She cautiously moved to the edge of the platform’s railing and peered down.
“Luckily it suddenly stalled, otherwise we’d both be done for.”
She then made a sound of surprise, looked around, and was somewhat puzzled:
“Is this a power outage? Or did that car crash into some wires?”
The neon lights and billboards that had been shining on the building’s exterior walls were now all off, the virtual station sign above the station had disappeared, and even the virtual screen at the building entrance for scanning irises was gone.
It was as if the entire area’s energy supply had been instantly cut off.
The girl sighed, “We’re really lucky.”
It wasn’t just luck.
Pei Ran knew all too well that everything that had happened in that split second, the hover car stalling, the billboards losing power, was likely due to the illusion in her mind.
That strange “stop” character.
The moment the green light finished writing, it was as if a mysterious hand had pressed the pause button on all the energy and power around.
The green light, it seemed like some extraordinary ability, perhaps related to this time’s crossing.
Pei Ran concentrated, trying to summon that green light spot again.
Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found, hiding who knows where.
The long-haired girl didn’t notice anything unusual and bent down. In the rush earlier, the large cardboard box she had been holding in her arms had fallen to the ground, spilling its contents everywhere.
“These are all my things from the company. As soon as I resigned, I had to take everything with me.”
She carefully picked up a potted plant and used her hands to gather the scattered soil, scooping it bit by bit back into the pot. The plant was only about twenty to thirty centimeters tall, with a large cluster of leaves that were glossy green, clearly a cherished item that had been meticulously cared for every day.
Pei Ran also bent down to help her pick up the items and put them back into the large cardboard box.
Besides the greenery, there were various snacks, towels, toothbrushes, and even a pillow and a blanket. It seemed she had turned the company into her home.
As she picked up her things, the long-haired girl glanced at Pei Ran.
“You’re Pei Ran, from the R&D department, right? I’m Ai Xia, from the finance department. You’ve come to me for reimbursements before, but you might not remember.”
Pei Ran didn’t respond.
It seemed the original owner of this body shared her name, also called Pei Ran.
Ai Xia asked, “I saw you at HR this morning, you’re leaving too, right? How come you’re not carrying anything?”
Pei Ran was wearing a black short coat, a gray checkered scarf, and a pair of black leather gloves, looking relaxed and empty-handed, not even carrying a bag, as if ready to run at any moment.
Flashes of memory passed through Pei Ran’s mind, likely from half an hour ago—
The HR at the company pushed a notice towards her, “Pei Ran, your performance has always been good, but unfortunately, your R&D department is going to lay off more than seventy percent…”
Pei Ran sorted through her thoughts.
It seemed the two of them were employees of the same company in this building, both unemployed today, about to head home.
She replied, “Yes. I was laid off.”
Ai Xia seemed to have found a kindred spirit, “It’s all because of those AIs. Of course, the boss prefers to use AIs, who can compete with AIs? They don’t need to eat or sleep, working 24/7, overtime can be done in a flash…”
She lamented, “…those experts keep saying that AI is a revolution, that it can leap productivity and so on, but in my opinion, this thing only allows bosses to use AIs, making huge profits, while ordinary people desperately fight for the remaining jobs, the rich get richer, the poor get poorer…”
She struggled to fold the blanket smaller and stuffed it into the cardboard box, talking to herself, then suddenly realized Pei Ran hadn’t made a sound.
She looked up and saw Pei Ran with her hands in her pockets, tilting her head back, squinting her eyes.
A strange thought popped into Ai Xia’s mind—
Could she be… sunbathing?
Ai Xia herself found the thought a bit amusing: with the smog so heavy, the sun’s shadow was almost impossible to find, who would sunbathe in this?
“What are you doing?” Ai Xia asked.
“Nothing,” Pei Ran withdrew her gaze and closed her eyes.
A faint circular halo lingered on her eyelids, slow to fade.
In her original world, Pei Ran had lived in a sunless bunker since birth.
The bunker was a hiding place for humans, built deep underground, connected by mouse-hole-like pipes to settlements. People scurried through the dim tunnels, with only occasional chances to go to the surface. The surface world meant danger, where one could easily lose their life, and not many dared to venture there.
By her reckoning, Pei Ran hadn’t been to the surface or seen the sun for four or five months.
This was a world where one could see the sun every day.
Not only the sun, but there was also wind.
A gentle breeze lifted the strands of hair by her ears, stirred by the airflow from vehicles. A large hover bus came to a stop in front of the platform, and the glass barrier of the platform slid open silently.
The bus had arrived.
The bus was old, streaked with grime, yet it was encircled by dazzling purple light strips. The driver’s panel was lit, but there was no one there.
“My bus is here,” Ai Xia said, “My home is at the terminal of this line, the far west, it takes over an hour to get there… Can I add you? Let’s keep in touch.”
Ai Xia rolled up her sleeve.
On her wrist was a black spiral bracelet about the width of a finger, resembling an elastic hair tie, snugly fitted around her wrist, with a small black hard square fixed on it.
She tapped it, puzzled, “Huh? Is the bracelet broken?”
The surroundings brightened.
The neon signs and virtual station signs lit up together, as if the power had been restored.
At the same time, Ai Xia’s bracelet responded, and a virtual screen popped up, only the size of a book, thin and semi-transparent, like a floating illusion of light and shadow, hovering in the air in front of her.
Ai Xia sighed in relief, “It’s working.”
She tapped a few times and brought the bracelet close to Pei Ran’s wrist.
Pei Ran saw that on her own left wrist, between the edge of her sleeve and her glove, there was a similar black bracelet, half-hidden.
A soft ding sounded, and a small virtual screen appeared out of nowhere in front of Pei Ran:
【Confirm adding contact Ai Xia?】
Pei Ran tapped to confirm.
Only then did Ai Xia hurriedly pick up her cardboard box and step onto the bus. Before boarding, she tilted her head slightly, bringing her eyes close to a virtual screen at the bus entrance that read “Iris Scan.”
“See you next time—”
The bus carried Ai Xia’s trembling farewell as it whooshed up from the ground and drove away.
Not long after it left, another bus pulled up beside the platform, its front displaying “F306.” Pei Ran faintly knew that this should be the bus to take her home.
Mimicking Ai Xia’s actions, she successfully scanned her iris, boarded the bus, and found an empty seat to sit down.
The bus was warm, with heaters blowing hot air. There were quite a few passengers, all looking weary, some succumbing to drowsiness and sleeping in disarray.
Next to her, a middle-aged woman dressed in office attire was nestled in her seat, also dozing with half-closed eyes. Her golden hair was lifeless like straw, her suit wrinkled, whether she had left work early, was laid off like Pei Ran, or was on her way to meet a client.
The advertising screen floating at the front of the bus was brightly colored, looping a commercial for a real estate called “Golden Sunshine.” In the neatly decorated and bright apartment, a family was all smiles, with a cheerful jingle playing in the background:
“This is a wonderful home—”
“Carrying the dreams of you and me—”
“Where my heart is at peace, happiness lasts forever—”
“Bathing together in the golden sunshine—”
Someone lifted their eyelids, glanced at the ad, yawned, and then their eyelids drooped wearily again.
Only Pei Ran sat upright, silently scanning the entire carriage.
It was wonderful.
Transportation flew freely under the sun, not shot down by artillery fire. Everyone in the carriage was healthy, no one missing limbs, all living safely.
And it was likely that in half an hour, they would still be living safely.
Tomorrow, next month, even next year, they could continue to live safely.
This was a safe new world, a beautiful dream home, better than all the dreams Pei Ran had since birth.
In this beautiful world, the free bus weaved through the gray steel jungle shimmering with neon lights, finding gaps to jump up and down, speeding forward, soon arriving at the next stop. It was a major stop, and many people boarded, filling the narrow carriage.
Just as the bus left the station, it suddenly braked sharply, hovering in mid-air.
Sleepy heads banged against the backs of the seats in front, standing passengers scrambled to grab the handrails, and the carriage was filled with curses. Many looked out the windows, somewhat puzzled.
“This isn’t a bus stop, why are we stopping here?”
The bus door suddenly opened, and a rush of cold air poured into the carriage, cutting through the stuffy human smell inside.
What entered with the cold wind was not a person, but a floating sphere.
It was silver all over, about the size of a basketball, gliding smoothly and silently into the carriage.
The cursing stopped abruptly.
The silver sphere bore several white characters: DOD.
A man sitting behind Pei Ran muttered under his breath, “It’s a federal security agent.”
The term “agent” acted like a switch, triggering fragments of memories left by the original owner in Pei Ran’s mind.
An “agent” was not a person but an artificial intelligence, or AI, specialized in a certain field.
It was said that not long ago, the Federal Department of Defense and Security had officially launched a new AI to take full responsibility for handling and coordinating all defense and security affairs of the federation, replacing human experts.
It seemed that this was the one before them.
This thing looked completely non-human, bearing no relation to the “human” aspect of the term “agent.”
In the center of the metal sphere was a black part, like an eye of unfathomable depth, slightly rotating, coldly scanning each passenger in the carriage.
It floated in mid-air, quietly moving slowly forward along the aisle, and people consciously squeezed themselves flatter to make space for it. No one dared to meet its gaze, everyone averted their eyes and lowered their heads.
The metal sphere came closer and stopped less than a meter away from Pei Ran.
The “eye” turned slightly.
The woman sitting next to Pei Ran turned pale, her fingers instinctively tightening around the old handbag on her lap.
A red dot flashed above the “eye” of the sphere.
A gunshot rang out.
A few drops of liquid splashed onto Pei Ran’s cheek. (TL: Damn, give this protagonist a break)
The head of the woman next to her seemed to lose support instantly, her neck slumped weakly, and her hand, which had been clutching like a chicken’s claw, relaxed.
Pei Ran wiped her face, the fingertips of her black leather gloves damp, a faint smell of blood reaching her nose.
The passengers in the carriage were stunned for a moment, then erupted into screams.
The black eye on the metal sphere moved slightly again, this time turning towards Pei Ran.
Pei Ran did not scream or move; she knew it was “looking” at her.
The black eye, like an oversized pupil, seemed unfocused yet capable of seeing everything.
It stared at Pei Ran, lingering longer on her than on anyone else, even longer than on the woman it had just shot.
Pei Ran also stared back at it, motionless.
Its shooting position should be at a small dot one centimeter above the “eye.”
The attack speed was too fast; it was almost impossible to dodge.
Being precisely targeted by it was akin to being in an execution stance.
She could only bet that it wouldn’t shoot her without reason.
Pei Ran focused intently on the small dot, her entire body tense, quickly assessing the likelihood of it launching an attack.
A few seconds later, the “eye” suddenly turned away.
A calm and indifferent male voice emanated from the metal sphere: “Please do not panic, passengers. The federal security agent is conducting routine work.”
It referred to just having killed a person as “conducting routine work.”
The voice paused, then continued, “I can assure you, every law-abiding citizen is absolutely safe.”
—
TL: Guess who?
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