novelraw Chapter 47: Sea of Darkness - (47)
Chapter 47: Sea of Darkness - (47)
In the laboratory, researchers embraced each other and exchanged high-fives, celebrating jubilantly. Cheers and expressions of awe filled the space.
With tears welling up in his eyes as well, Dr. Zhao exchanged high-fives and hugs with his assistants, embracing each researcher in turn. He initially intended to hug Kui Xin too, but Night Cicada stretched out an arm to stop him.
“Mind your position,” he reminded Dr. Zhao.
“Oh, oh, oh.” Dr. Zhao, caught up in excitement, didn’t dwell on Night Cicada’s intervention. Instead, he grasped Kui Xin’s hands firmly, shaking them back and forth. “Miss, we’ve succeeded! This is a historic moment, truly monumental!”
Kui Xin replied courteously, shaking hands with him. “Congratulations!”
Amidst the cacophony of voices and the collective joyous emotions, the android lying on the experimental table remained consistently silent.
Its silver-white eyes showed no emotion, merely scanning quietly from left to right and top to bottom before lingering for a long time on each person’s face. It was impossible to comprehend why such expressions appeared on their faces. In reality, it was incapable of making complete facial expressions because its simulated human skin had not yet been installed. At present, it is just a skeleton filled with muscles and organs.
The android stared blankly at everyone without any further movement, as if detached from this world.
After a few seconds, it suddenly let out a laugh.
The laughter was truly abrupt and chilling.The entire laboratory fell silent as soon as the android began to laugh.
Researchers looked at each other, their joyful atmosphere freezing over. They observed the android on the lab table with peculiar and subtle expressions.
The android didn’t stop laughing; it raised its arms, flailing and grasping at the air as if dancing. With each movement, it laughed, “Ha ha… hahahaha…”
Initially, its laughter sounded somewhat stilted and lacking in variation, like an aging speaker struggling to produce sound. However, after laughing for about ten seconds, its laughter became increasingly clear and more akin to that of humans.
“Damn, can we make this thing stop? Its laughter is giving me goosebumps,” Night Cicada couldn’t hold back, sounding exasperated. “What’s wrong with it? Did something short-circuit in its head? Why is it laughing?”
“No, there’s no short circuit. It’s imitating humans,” Kui Xin concluded after observing briefly. “Its hands grabbing at the air mimic the researchers’ actions of clapping, high-fiving, and embracing. The laughter is similarly an imitation.”
“Its movements remind me of zombies from old movies of the past era,” Night Cicada said irritably.
Dr. Zhao vehemently countered with wide eyes, “How can you describe it as resembling a zombie? It’s just as adorable as a human infant learning about this world. Look at its remarkable ability to learn—how intelligent!” He regarded Kui Xin, who could understand the android’s body language, as a kindred spirit. “Young lady, you can get closer and observe it. Isn’t it truly beautiful? As beautiful as nature’s creations, human-made creations aren’t inferior by any means.”
Night Cicada clicked her tongue and said, “Tsk, I can’t comprehend the mindset of science fanatics. Beautiful where? All I see is a skeletal frame grinning at me—it would be perfect for cameo roles in horror movies.”
After a moment, the android stopped smiling and regained its composure. Its waving arms ceased movement, obediently hanging at its sides, but it continued observing the reactions of nearby people, its gaze lingering on different faces.
As Dr. Zhao guided Kui Xin closer, the android twisted its head, seemingly attempting to turn almost 180 degrees to look back at them. However, due to structural limitations, it was unable to complete this motion.
The android’s silvery eyes followed Dr. Zhao and Kui Xin’s movements, and its head adjusted its angle accordingly.
“Its body is ice-cold.” Dr. Zhao stroked the android’s arm, gesturing for Kui Xin to touch it as well.
Kui Xin reached out and felt its limb, noting how its cool, reptilian-like body faintly reflected the laboratory’s lighting.
“Their blood is crucial for maintaining activity; within it, energy that propels their bodily movements is transported,” Dr. Zhao explained, pointing at the exposed veins. “Of course, the blood is also silver-white. We’re accustomed to referring to the substance flowing through their vessels as ‘blood,’ but in reality, android blood is entirely different from human blood—this distinction helps differentiate the two.”
“What is their lifespan?” Kui Xin asked.
“Type II theoretically has a service life of 180 years, provided the body doesn’t deteriorate. It can continue functioning indefinitely,” Dr. Zhao said. “However, Type I materials cannot match this; they have a maximum service life of three or four decades. Compared to Type I, Type II represents comprehensive improvements across the board.”
“It lacks reproductive organs,” Kui Xin observed. “From the initial design, the possibility of them engaging in reproduction was completely ruled out, correct?”
“Not entirely. Most of it was for design convenience, as this is a prototype of the Type II bioroid. The primary focus was to validate the feasibility of the Type II concept; achieving activation already counts as a successful experiment. Gender considerations were not taken into account,” Dr. Zhao explained. “For future market releases, we will develop male and female body designs for the androids to cater to different occupations and professions. Currently, our proposed models include combat-type, domestic-helper-type, maintenance-type, and service-type.”
It seemed they had considered various types… Mechanical Dawn’s ambitions were indeed substantial.
Not only did they have ambitious goals, but they also possessed the means, technology, and resources to pursue them.
Kui Xin couldn’t help but wonder, since when did her trash of a father become so impressive? Not only did he gather a group of highly skilled subordinates, but he also managed to expand the company to such a scale.
In the First World, her trash dad initially experienced some success, true enough. However, after those few years, he quickly became overconfident. Due to his arrogance, he dared to form alliances and make risky investments. Ultimately, his greed led to ruin, resulting in a catastrophic loss before he fled abroad with embezzled funds. If he truly had the capability, would he have ended up with such a downfall?
A faint sense of unease surfaced in Kui Xin’s mind. Perhaps it could be that the trash dad in the Second World is simply more formidable than the one in the First World?
Before she could dwell on it further, the icy sensation on her arm brought her thoughts back to reality.
The android mimicked Kui Xin’s gesture, gently stroking her arm.
Kui Xin looked at the android in surprise. After touching her arm, the android extended its hand to softly caress her soft cheek, then withdrew and touched its own cheek repeatedly several times.
“It’s wondering why it is different from you,” Dr. Zhao hypothesized. “Your textures feel distinct; they possess a tactile system.”
“It seems that way,” Kui Xin said. “Confusion, curiosity—do these count as emotions?”
Dr. Zhao pondered for a moment. “The underlying cause that drives the android to exhibit such investigative behavior may not necessarily be emotion; it could be learning awareness. When we designed them, we emphasized their capacity for learning. They think and discern to better serve humans, much like how artificial intelligence can ‘think’ through data analysis.”
“You’re right, everything is uncertain and requires experimentation and observation of data.” Kui Xin stepped back, avoiding the android’s reaching hand.
The android persistently held out its hand towards Kui Xin, showing no intention of lowering it. When it saw Kui Xin move away, it even extended its arm further, attempting to touch her. However, Kui Xin had no intention of letting it do so. The android then shifted its target and began touching Dr. Zhao beside it.
After pondering for a moment, Dr. Zhao also stepped back and positioned himself shoulder to shoulder with Kui Xin.
“Come on, get off the bed, and walk over here!” Dr. Zhao’s eyes sparkled as he muttered under his breath. He remained stationary while demonstratively lifting and stepping his legs, comically illustrating how the android should use its limbs. “Get down from the bed; first step with your left leg, then your right, alternating one foot after another.”
Night Cicada observed and remarked, “You must be a great father.”
“What now?” Dr. Zhao responded, puzzled.
Night Cicada quipped, “You’re acting like a father teaching their child to walk—patiently and expectantly, saying ‘Come here, come quickly to daddy.’ The resemblance is striking.”
Dr. Zhao, unperturbed and cheerful, replied, “Researchers often treat their prized creations like their own children; it’s not an exaggeration at all.”
Perhaps Dr. Zhao’s demonstration had an effect, as the android indeed began moving its legs.
Initially, it sat on the lab table, pedaling its legs. Realizing this wasn’t the correct way to walk, it attempted to stand up but failed several times. Eventually, it accidentally toppled off the lab table, crashing face-first onto the floor with a thud.
Dr. Zhao rushed over hastily, exclaiming, “Oh my goodness! We can’t afford to damage Unit 01—it’s still needed for subsequent experiments.”
With Dr. Zhao’s assistance, the android managed to stand upright. It walked aimlessly, its legs mechanically lifting and swaying with every three steps. As Dr. Zhao had mentioned, they enhanced the android’s learning capabilities, making them remarkably strong. After taking just a dozen or so steps, it quickly grasped the knack for walking, significantly improving its gait.
Dr. Zhao circled around the android, genuinely resembling a father anxiously watching his child take their first steps, fearful of any potential falls or accidents.
“Androids lack social knowledge; surely they can’t be immediately released into the market upon creation?” Kui Xin asked.
Too busy attending to various tasks, Dr. Zhao didn’t have time to respond. Instead, his female assistant nearby said, “Yes, but there is already a solution. Similar to programming artificial intelligence, we can implant some memories and basic common sense in their minds. This way, they operate according to predefined routines.”
Night Cicada turned to Kui Xin and suggested, “Let’s go. There is no need to disturb them further. If you’re interested in other experimental projects, I can show you around. What’s there to see in those silvery-white skeletal frames?”
“Hmm.” Kui Xin glanced at the android briefly before following Night Cicada away.
For the first time, the organization Mechanical Dawn revealed its mysterious veil to Kui Xin, naturally piquing her curiosity to observe more and gain deeper insights.
“You rarely paid attention to these projects and experiments before. Why the sudden interest now?” Night Cicada casually asked.
“I engage when I’m interested; if not, then I don’t bother,” Kui Xin replied, feigning nonchalance.
“True enough,” Night Cicada agreed. “How about we visit the exoskeleton armor department? I heard they’ve been experimenting with new models recently.”
“Sounds good,” Kui Xin said.
Leaving the elevator, they walked along the glass tunnel and entered another fully enclosed metal corridor.
After passing through five consecutive gates, a room marked “High-Risk Equipment Laboratory” came into view at the end of the corridor.
Night Cicada tapped the display screen next to the metal gate, and a researcher’s face appeared.
“Dr. Qiu.” Night Cicada nodded towards the female researcher on the screen. “Is it possible to come in for a visit now?”
“Wait ten minutes.” Without any further ado, Dr. Qiu promptly ended the communication.
Night Cicada turned to Kui Xin and shrugged. “Scientists tend to be proud and often have peculiar quirks. Dr. Qiu dislikes idle talk, so even the boss would receive the same treatment.”
“I can see that,” Kui Xin said. “They are also genuinely dedicated individuals, deeply immersed in their research.”
“That’s right,” Night Cicada affirmed.
Ten minutes later, the gate promptly opened. Dr. Qiu, clad in a white lab coat with arms crossed, bluntly stated, “You have twenty minutes for your visit. When I say twenty minutes, it’s not meant for you to linger exactly until then; leave early if possible.”
“Understood.” Night Cicada entered as if accustomed to this routine.
Kui Xin stepped into the high-risk equipment laboratory. Through thick blast-resistant glass, she could see researchers wearing masks and operating machines for welding tasks. In front of her lay a robotic hand, meticulously assembled from thousands of thin metal pieces resembling a human hand’s precision mechanics.
Molten metal splashed, emitting dazzling sparks that were intensely bright, causing discomfort to the eyes.
Only after Kui Xin put on a shading visor did her eyes feel significantly more comfortable.
Dr. Qiu’s assistant began explaining to Kui Xin, “This is our latest model of enhanced exoskeleton armor. The purpose of such armor is to augment combat capabilities for individuals without installed mechanical prosthetics.”
He picked up a fully assembled piece of exoskeleton armor from the experimental bench. The armor appeared predominantly black, with a special coating that made it seem capable of absorbing light. Contrary to expectations, its design looked neither cumbersome nor heavy but rather sleek and agile.
“This is the right arm exoskeleton armor, capable of self-adjusting to fit the wearer’s arm shape,” the assistant said. “Please try it on.”
Kui Xin lifted her right arm and, with the assistant’s help, put on the exoskeleton armor.
As soon as she inserted her arm, the mechanical structure of the exoskeleton armor automatically adjusted and locked securely around it without feeling constrictive or suffocating. The metal plates at the elbow, along with the forearm and upper arm, underwent fine adjustments for length and stretch, enveloping her entire arm. The metal was also snugly adhered to her skin at the finger positions, with slight protrusions at the knuckles, suggesting additional striking damage when hitting someone with this apparatus.
The metallic shell of the exoskeleton armor was much thinner than Kui Xin had expected. After putting it on, her arm only appeared slightly bulkier, and pulling down her sleeve nearly concealed it entirely.
The assistant asked, “Could you share your experience using it?”
“Lightweight and slim,” Kui Xin said. “It’s somewhat beyond my expectations.”
A proud expression crossed the assistant’s face. “Yes! Compared to other cumbersome models of exoskeleton armor, the greatest advantage of this one is its combination of lightness and thinness while maintaining power! We used lightweight alloys and minimized connecting components as much as possible, ensuring flexibility. Just developing the design plans took two years.”
He guided Kui Xin to a small room adjacent to the laboratory. “This is a mini-testing area where you can give it a try. Theoretically, it should at least double your strength. If all body parts are equipped with exoskeleton armor, it could increase your strength by approximately twofold. However, we cannot test the full armor yet; it’s not fully assembled.”
In the testing room, there was a boxing strength tester—a customized version with significantly higher strength and force limits compared to standard models.
Kui Xin approached the strength tester, clenched her right fist, and struck it forcefully.
With a thud, the numbers on the strength tester quickly jumped, reaching 500 pounds before finally settling at 537 pounds.
The assistant gasped in shock, “Oh my god! You truly are a reincarnation of a boxing champion! Surely you’d win any lightweight women’s boxing competition, wouldn’t you?”
Even without considering the enhancement from the exoskeleton armor, Kui Xin’s inherent strength was formidable. With a strong base, the boost provided by the exoskeleton would naturally be significant.
Night Cicada glanced at the numbers on the strength tester and said, “You held back too much, Miss.”
“Just trying it out is enough; it’s not a real test of limits.” Kui Xin shook her hand to alleviate any strain.
Night Cicada asked, “What else would you like to see? I’ll take you there.”
“Let’s explore as we walk.” Kui Xin removed her exoskeleton armor.
In the dim and oppressive room, the only light source was a pale blue, glowing orb hovering above the table.
“…”
“No, she has no suspicions at all; you can be assured of that.”
“…”
“Yes, I’m quite surprised, too; it’s unexpected…”
“…”
“The plan is proceeding systematically, so why have you suddenly changed your mind? Is it because of her? Haphazardly altering the plan might not be in our best interest.”
“…”
“All right, I understand. I will follow your instructions.”
“…”
“My apologies; I know I shouldn’t ask, but why?” The man leaned forward from his seat at the edge of the table, facing the blue glowing orb with urgency and confusion. “Why her? Why my daugh—”
The pale blue orb flickered, interrupting the man’s unfinished words.
“…”
“Fine, I won’t question further.” The man closed his eyes and said, “I’ll carry out my part as instructed.”
The pale blue orb on the table was extinguished.
A few seconds later, the room’s lights illuminated, driving away the darkness with an artificial glow.
“Beeep—”
The man answered the communication, “Hello?”
“Boss, after taking care of business with the young miss, I also accompanied her to visit a few projects. Do you wish to see her again, or should she leave directly?” Night Cicada asked.
Wei Haidong tugged at his suit tie, impatiently saying, “Let that disobedient girl get lost immediately.”
“Ah, well…” Night Cicada hesitated, then replied, “Alright, I’ll escort her back.”
Just as Night Cicada’s communication ended, the blue orb on Wei Haidong’s desk suddenly lit up again, nearly causing him to choke from fright. Hastily, he asked, “What instructions do you have?”
“Put on the concealed earpiece.” Several lines of text appeared on the blue orb. “Call her over here, and whatever I say, repeat it to her without asking any questions or adding extra words.”
Wei Haidong nodded subserviently. “Yes, sir.”
He retrieved a small, hidden earpiece from his watch and inserted it into his ear. Then, rubbing his face, he opened the desk drawer, took out a mirror, and checked his appearance, combing his hair neatly before assuming the authoritative demeanor of a big boss behind the table.
“Night Cicada,” Wei Haidong initiated a call, “bring my daughter here.”
“…?” Night Cicada responded, momentarily puzzled. “Boss, I just escorted the young Miss home moments ago.”
“Bring her back. I suddenly remembered something I hadn’t told her,” Wei Haidong said.
“Alright, I’ll contact her right away,” Night Cicada responded.
Shortly after, Night Cicada called back on the communicator.
“Boss, Miss Kui said she’d only return if you personally asked her to come back. Otherwise, it would be too damaging to her dignity, and she refuses under any circumstances,” he explained. “Miss Wei’s strikes pack quite a punch; I might not win against her in hand-to-hand combat. If she doesn’t want to return, I certainly can’t team up with Silver Mask to forcibly bring her here, can I? That kid, Silver Mask, seems very reluctant.”
Wei Haidong fell silent for a moment.
His expression darkened as he was about to issue a stern command, but then the pale blue orb displayed: “Forget it, next time.”
The orb promptly went dark.
“Sigh.” Wei Haidong rubbed his forehead, feeling drained. He resignedly said, “Fine, let her stay out there this time.”
“Understood, boss.” Night Cicada ended the communication.
Silence returned to the room.
Wei Haidong sighed wearily, rising from his seat and walking towards the wall on the right side of the room.
As he approached, the wall silently parted, revealing a hidden door. Behind it lay rows upon rows of glass display cases. Some contained mechanical armor, others housed advanced prosthetics, and some showcased lifelike replicas of limbs such as arms and legs… It resembled a peculiar collection gallery.
Wei Haidong moved to the farthest glass display case and looked down at its contents.
Inside was a human body, distinct from the Type II bioroid’s form. This body clearly had flesh and blood, with lifelike coloring akin to that of a genuine human.
Its eyes were tightly closed, and its heartbeat was silent, resembling that of a corpse. The head suffered severe damage, yet the remaining facial features bore an uncanny resemblance to Kui Xin’s.
On the display case’s label, there was a single line of text: “Type I Android, Prototype.”