The First Superhuman: Rebuilding Civilization from the Moon

Chapter 191: The Memory Weapon



Chapter 191: The Memory Weapon

Peter remained silent for a long time after the door clicked shut, eventually letting out a heavy sigh.

The women who used to throw themselves at him back on Earth were absolutely nothing compared to Chloe.

It was hard to describe. The difference wasn’t physical; it was entirely about her inner qualities. Chloe was attractive, probably a solid 7 out of 10 in Peter’s book, definitely above average but she couldn’t compare to the stunning supermodels he had dated in his past life.

Yet, she possessed an intellectual beauty, a genuine resonance on a spiritual level. Every word she spoke seemed to touch his heart, as if they inherently understood one another. It was a comforting warmth.

The women from his past couldn’t provide that. Sure, they were beautiful and had incredible bodies, but that was just raw physical passion. After the thrill of the revelry faded, he always entered a state of post-nut clarity, not wanting to touch a hair on their heads, sinking instead into a boundless void of emptiness and loneliness.

But this time felt different. Physical attraction was always fleeting; intellectual and spiritual attraction was lasting.

Peter stared blankly at the wall for a long time before vigorously shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

I can think about romance later. First, I need to figure out how to survive my own life.

He realized his situation was rapidly deteriorating. His actual knowledge didn’t qualify him to be a "Great Scientist" by any stretch of the imagination. If he continued to fake it, he was bound to be exposed eventually.

He constantly lectured his two slacker friends, Will and Dylan, to study hard and improve themselves, but in reality, he was still the same lazy bum who hated opening a textbook. Being constantly worshipped as a genius had certainly inflated his ego, but he knew perfectly well that *he* hadn’t invented the room-temperature superconductor.

If this charade continued, the truth would come out. If even a junior materials scientist cornered him to discuss the theoretical equations of the superconductor, the jig would be up. He knew absolutely nothing!

Peter suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

I have to study

, he resolved. Even if I have to cram until my brain bleeds! In this new society, whether it was finding a career or a partner, you were a complete loser without intellect and scientific knowledge. That was the harsh reality of the Federation. It was a simple but cruel meritocracy. The other citizens adapted quickly because they were the cream of the crop, originally selected as the elite crew for the Lunar Base. But for an ordinary rich kid like Peter, the learning curve was a vertical cliff.

Back on Earth, society had been much more complex and forgiving of incompetence. Even an ignorant playboy could rule the world as long as he had daddy’s money, political connections, or sheer dumb luck.

But things were vastly different now.

Peter couldn’t definitively say which social system was better. Selfishly, he felt more suited to the old world where his wealth shielded him from his own uselessness. But objectively, the Federation’s simplified, intellect-driven culture was far superior for technological advancement and humanity’s survival in the dark forest of space.

Regardless, there was nothing he could do to change the rules of the game. He had to adapt.

Peter sat down at his desk, patiently flipping through the heavy stack of medical documents Dr. Chloe had left behind. Gradually, his brows furrowed.

He realized that his current symptoms perfectly mirrored clinical dissociative identity disorder. No wonder the psychiatric experts had misdiagnosed him. According to human psychology, it was entirely possible for two separate alter-egos to possess distinct memories, experiences, and even separate skills. Furthermore, these two entities could converse and communicate internally.

Based on the clinical literature, it perfectly described his situation with Black. For the first time, Peter began to seriously doubt his own sanity.

Was "Black" not an actual alien parasite at all? Was it simply a splintered personality created when his brain was overloaded with a massive data dump?

A massive data dump? Peter strained his mind, vaguely recalling the incident that started it all. He remembered standing in the Light Lake Supercomputing Center, staring through the reinforced glass at the strange metal sphere Jason had retrieved from the Martian ruins.

In that exact instant, it had felt as if a torrential flood of alien data had forcefully breached his mind like a turbulent sea. Yet, to this day, he couldn’t consciously access any of that information!

Could that quarantined data package have manifested as an alternate personality, namely, Black?

The more Peter thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. The concept of an ethereal "alien soul possession" was pure fantasy and fictional, but the concept of digitally transmitting and implanting neural memories actually had a basis in hard science.

It was physically impossible for a biological alien, which had been incinerated by a nuclear warhead thousands of miles away, to magically teleport its consciousness into his skull. They lived in an era of science. Peter didn’t believe in ghosts, astral projection, or demonic possession.

The only logical explanation... was weaponized memory manipulation!

If that metal sphere acted as a wireless neural transmitter capable of overwriting human memories, then everything made terrifying sense!

At the time, the metal sphere had attempted to wipe Peter’s original neural pathways and inject Black’s alien memories into the blank slate. If it had fully succeeded, the extraterrestrial pilot of the Martian spacecraft would have been successfully "resurrected" in a form unimaginable to humanity.

The biological body would remain human, but the emotions, thought processes, and memories driving it would belong entirely to the alien entity!

Is that even a true resurrection? Peter thought, breaking out in a cold sweat.

To human philosophy, that kind of immortality was utterly meaningless. It was just a copy-paste of data! If Peter died, and a scientist cloned his body from a stray cell, then uploaded a digital backup of his memories into the clone... would the original Peter actually come back to life?

Of course not. The original Peter would still be dead. The clone would just be a perfect replica, convinced it was him.

But while that form of data-resurrection seemed meaningless to him, it might be perfectly acceptable to an advanced alien civilization. Who knew how they perceived consciousness?

Or worse... this wasn’t just a survival mechanism. This was a cognitive weapon. A viral method of reproduction and conquest!

Peter’s heart hammered violently against his ribs. He felt like he had just uncovered a horrifying, universe-shattering truth.

Thank God I won the mental tug-of-war, he thought. His dominant personality had survived the initial overwrite, relegating the alien data to a secondary persona.

But what if the metal sphere was still active? What if it could continue transmitting and altering memories? Wouldn’t the entire human race be overwritten?!

The moment the horrific realization clicked, Peter leaped out of his chair, a cold sweat drenching his clothes.

He was terrified. The more he thought about it, the more horrifying the implications became. He had to warn Jason immediately! At this moment, Captain Jason was the only person he could rely on. Peter vividly remembered that Jason possessed that blazing, sun-like mental resilience; he was the only one immune to the cognitive overwrite, and the only person Peter could completely trust.

Think about it: if every human on the ship had their memories and cognitive processes overwritten by alien data, would they still be human?

Of course not!

If the population was massively infected, the Federation would be silently, bloodlessly conquered from within, transformed into a puppet empire for a dead alien race.

A violent chill ran down Peter’s spine. Humanity was still so incredibly naive. You can’t just pick up alien artifacts and bring them aboard the ship!


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