Can Ci Pin - - - Chapter 161

Chapter 161 – The Memorial Hall

“Principal!” a young professor cried out.

The old principal who was already near retirement age took a step forward with an unfathomable expression, pulling all the younger staff members behind him. His eyes scanned across the faces of the people holding the guns–he recognized every single one of them.

These biochip humans with guns in their hands right now were the same colleagues who had greeted each other this morning while carrying their breakfast trays in the cafeteria. They were no different from normal people; some were even wittier than others or had a friendlier personality. The principal’s gaze fell on the leader of the group: that was his right-hand staff who had just been promoted to be the director of the general medical department. This was also the man the principal planned on raising to be the next head of the university.

“Director Zhao,” the principal looked at this right-hand man he had been foolishly raising with a sunken heart, saying, “do you not remember how the Second Polytechnic University survived under the cannons of the pirates? Why must you betray us?”

“Sir,” the biochip human Director Zhao responded calmly, the gun still in his hands, “this is not betrayal, it’s a choice. I chose to side with the trailblazers in the history of human evolution; we followed our great master to discover a bright future for mankind, then turned back to invite our fellows to join us in the new world.”

The principal didn’t realize there was such a shameless way of speaking and could almost feel his brain boil in rage. He quickly forced himself to calm down as he calculated how to deal with the situation in his mind, then questioned back: “So does this ‘new world’ you all speak of involve injecting biochips into everyone? In my opinion, you don’t even need to waste so much effort in injecting these chips; all you guys have to do is to destroy humanity and nourish new humans from your own wombs.”

“Principal,” Director Zhao responded earnestly, “perhaps you have a great misunderstanding about us. We’re paving the roads to a new frontier with ragged clothes, our ultimate goal is to let all of humanity live in greater harmony and happiness. You may not accept some of our ideals, but that’s okay; remember, it was also difficult for our ancestors on earth to accept the fact that the earth was not the center of the universe.”

The principal was a man who had lived through war; he knew from his first glance that the Second Galaxy’s government might have already fallen into their hands, so calling the police would be useless. It was unclear what the military was like right now, but judging from the phone call earlier from the Colonel, it was likely that the enemies had already seeped into the active fleets as well.

These biochip humans would undoubtedly lock down the long-distance transfer portals around the Second Galaxy and block off all signals to stop anyone from calling out to other galaxies for help…and behind him was a whole school of unarmed students, a majority of them still minors.

What should he do?

A young teacher suddenly forgot he was still being held at gunpoint after listening to the words from these Freedom Corps pirates and shouted back: “Nonsense!”

This young man of culture glared, face red, somehow able to stop himself from spewing out obscenity. Even while enraged, his words were logical and sensible: “You evil cults, barbarians, and criminals that destroyed the Pledge of Freedom, you guys will never succeed! Even if we die, we won’t die with a dog collar on our necks like you all, who are still living on your knees like cattle to your superiors!”

Director Zhao responded cordially: “The biochip can evolve your body and increase your cognitive abilities; aside from that, it won’t affect your everyday life or your individual choices. Unlike Eden, it won’t intercept your thoughts and emotions. In essence, it does not conflict with the spirit of the Pledge of Freedom. The chip is more like an ID, to call it a ‘dog collar’ seems to be a bit of a stretch.”

“Tsk!” That enraged teacher said, “You all divide people up into clear hierarchies where lower level chips have to obey higher levels without question, and you’re saying this is an ID? This is an ideological prison!”

Director Zhao smiled faintly and lowered his laser gun: “So are you saying ‘freedom’ is absolute freedom? My goodness, you’re also someone that went through higher education, you can’t possibly say such uncultured words–are you saying that you don’t need to listen to the orders of your higher ups if you don’t have a chip? Even if you don’t have a superior, are you not going to obey the laws of society just because you can?”

He didn’t wait for the young professor to rebut and continued: “In the new world, the orders that are given to you by higher levels are like the law. These orders are not made out of his or her own selfish desires, but a command passed down through various levels of chips to build the model of a unified society. We can control the actions of people through chips rather than relying on punishment to perpetuate change; there will no longer be anyone who knowingly breaks the law nor half-hearted compliance from people, and thus no more corrupt law enforcement personnel.”

“That’s plain absurdity!”

“It is not, your thinking is simply too limited, my friend. In your narrow mindset, ‘law’ is a cold and soulless written list that can only be allowed into existence through the consequences of punishment and criminal acts!”

Director Zhao turned back to the principal: “We all know that the reason why mankind can defeat other species and stand on top of the food pyramid is because of our unique social collaboration; this collaboration is rooted in the concept and ideology of fiction that exists in our cognitive thinking. It can be said that the fundamental concept of an ideology is the core component that allows human society to function as a system.”

“From things as great as a person’s faith in life, a governing system, or a religious organization, down to the culture of a given territory or even the admiration of a celebrity…these are all forms of ideologies born from freedom. They’re like flourishing wild grass out in an open field, full of vitality but also uncontrolled; this is because every single one of our brains is an independent entity, so we can always develop new ideas in our minds. Different ideas may clash or become unable to coexist, which will create endless internal conflicts that will gradually grow into hatred. Then, the world will once again be shaken up and collapse–this is the flaw that we’re all born with, the obstacle blocking our way into a higher form of civilization,” Director Zhao said. “We are all defective species.”

Everyone was stunned by his long speech on the spot; it was difficult to tell whether they were convinced by these words or simply thought the man had gone mad. Yet all eyes were wide as they stared at the proud Director Zhao like countless spotlights on a stage.

“The ultimate goal of the biochip is to put a sheath on freedom’s double-edged sword. This will then create a much better and accepting society; if we can stop the internal conflicts among people, technological advancement will accelerate much faster than it does today. I implore you to step out of your stubborn frame of thought and think about it carefully.” Director Zhao persuaded the principal in a calm tone, “Also, for the safety of the school, I suggest you show up as soon as possible to maintain order among the students and calm everyone down as we step into the new world.”

A sudden inspiration flashed within the principal’s mind as he pretended to be hesitant: “You’re starting to convince me a little, but…I can’t guarantee that I will be able to calm the anxious students. If you’re willing to rephrase what you said earlier and repeat it to the children in a clearer and simpler way, perhaps that would be helpful.”

Director Zhao took it as the principal yielding and agreed solemnly: “Of course, we will fully support your work here.”

Even as a biochip human, Director Zhao was still an educator at his core and was dedicated to maintaining a professional work ethic. An inspiring speech came out the moment he opened his mouth, and soon after greeting their superiors, a group of chip carriers set up a temporary stage on campus. The speech didn’t simply address the Second Polytechnic University, it also expanded to the entirety of the Second Galaxy like the spreading of a gospel; Director Zhao proudly explained the ideology and future of the Freedom Corps’ biochip empire in the new world.

Meanwhile, the principal received rather respectful treatment after bowing down at the right time. All of the guns that had been pointed at him earlier were taken away and his office was also returned to him. He was allowed to connect his personal device to the internet to listen to the speech live, and was even served a proper dinner by the chip carriers.

He listened to the propaganda of the pirates while quietly checking the network of the Second Galaxy–as expected, the long-distance signal port was closed down. The Second Galaxy was now fully cut off from the outside world, however…

The principal picked up his teacup and swiftly inputted a long line of secret code behind the cup.

Back when the SIlver Ten was fighting a guerilla warfare with the pirates in the seven galaxies, they all left a little secret in each galaxy: a very simple long-distance communication signal port. It worked like a transfer portal without the hardware that allowed actual people or objects to pass through, but long-distance signals easily could.

This had been built by the Silver Third Squadron many years ago in order to leave an open route, in case these pirate cockroaches fully controlled a certain area and blocked off all the transfer portals, to allow people to at least send out an SOS signal before it was too late.

It had been so many years–would this relic left behind from wartime still work?

The principal didn’t know.

Even if it still worked, the Silver Ten had already passed through the wormhole and settled in the Eighth Galaxy; how long would it even take for them to receive the SOS?

The principal also didn’t know.

But he had no choice; he could only gamble on this.

He finished coding the SOS message and took a deep breath. Once the signal was sent out, chip carriers who were sensitive to human-machine communications would find out in real time. However, they didn’t know where the secret port was connected onto the network of the galaxy nor the signal destination. With the speed of electromagnetic travel, it would be impossible to block off the signal with human power.

“Mister Principal,” Director Zhao’s speech ended while the principal’s mind was elsewhere, “please also share a few words.”

The principal lifted his head to see a lonesome and cold podium before him. He couldn’t see his audience but could feel that all of his anxious students were all looking up and waiting to hear his voice.

“Yes, it’s me, my fellow students.” The principal opened his mouth and sounded out each word with caution, “I was given the opportunity to listen to Director Zhao’s reasoning and ideals before you all. Many things he mentioned were very unique and new perspectives that I’ve never thought of before, so I asked him to share his thoughts with everyone–”

The biochip humans saw that he was surprisingly cooperative and all let out a sigh of relief.

“Our environments and experiences are what differentiate us from each other. The ancients once said ‘hell is other people’; without similar experiences, it would be difficult to understand someone else. The clash of values is inevitable; people are often fighting in real life, debating on the internet, brawling in political activities, and even waging bloody warfare on a large scale. Yet even if these conflicts are endless, it will only allow the side with the loudest voice to win temporarily, not give an answer on what is just or wrong.”

Director Zhao smiled and chimed in on the side: “Even the modern worldview we know of today is continuously being challenged, proven wrong, and rebuilt; justice is non-permanent.”

“But what I want to say is, having different viewpoints or even sets of morals is natural and not at all something to be feared,” the principal continued sternly. His personal device at this time showed that he had successfully connected to the secret port. “What’s truly frightening is the fact that you will be fighting for a certain ‘belief’ for your whole life; yet even on your deathbed, you still don’t know why you believe in this faith nor why you even have such a moral perspective.”

Director Zhao’s expression dropped.

The SOS message had been sent out successfully.

The next moment, the Freedom Corps received an alert while a group of biochip humans knocked down the door and burst into the principal’s office. The framed photo of the twins from the Silver Third Squadron fell to the floor in the commotion.

The principal sat unmoved behind his desk: “The third level of freedom is the right to choose; you can choose and make a decision on what you like or dislike, and even how you want to live. The second level of freedom is the freedom of thought; thoughts can pass through spacetime, which can be either good or evil depending on your mood. The first level of freedom is the ability to stay with yourself and be true to yourself at all times; even if your thoughts were to be imprisoned temporarily, you will be able to wake up one day and reflect on everything through a conversation with yourself…”

This last line didn’t even get the chance to be broadcasted. Once the biochip humans discovered they had been fooled, they immediately cut off his connection and took him into custody.

The old principal didn’t have the power to rebel and was dragged out of his office like a dead cat. He stared into the eyes of his kidnappers: “…..You have the right to know why you are angry, anxious, filled with hatred, jealous; you have…”

His voice was cut off abruptly as a hand grabbed his throat while an opium biochip was injected to his nape without hesitation.

His body immediately reacted to the chip; the old principal’s whole body spasmed as he curled up into a ball, sounds of distress coming from his throat. Five minutes later, he dropped to the ground and stopped moving.

A chip carrier walked up and turned him over, noticing that the principal’s pupils were already dilating, indicating that the biochip that had been injected had lost its effect.

“He’s dead?”

When a chip was injected into the body, it would quickly take over the body like a parasite finding a host and controlling the individual. There was a 1% chance the host might die during this process; those that died were all people that had steely rejected the chip before, where their strong consciousness took over their bodies and used the body’s last strength to destroy the biochip.

“What now? We can’t pull the message back now,” a biochip human whispered to Director Zhao, “it was passed through an unknown terminal. It would be difficult to locate the receiving end now that he’s dead.”

“Don’t worry,” Director Zhao said, “I’ve already reported to the higher ups earlier. According to their analysis, it’s very likely that the receiving end is the Silver Ten; they’re in the Eighth Galaxy right now and are blocked off by the wormhole, they won’t receive this message in a hundred years.”

The message ‘that won’t be received in a hundred years’ travelled at near light-speed into the opened signal port and then was sent off to a further direction. It passed through heavy blockage within the galaxy and arrived in the First Galaxy about ten hours later…into Poisson Young’s personal device.

Wolto.

The central area of the capital planet was simply rebuilt on the ruins of the old site, so it was not much different from the time when Lin Jingheng had left, many years ago. Lu Bixing followed their lead and passed by the Union’s Parliament building.

“After Commander Lu Xin passed, this area was locked down and returned to the Military Council,” Lee explained. “Normally they would completely take down the old buildings and split up the land to others as they remodel it into something else, but Woolf didn’t let them touch the place. It used to simply be under indefinite lockdown, but after Commander Lu Xin’s reputation was reestablished and the Union reclaimed Wolto, I assumed they also remodeled this place–look.”

A few security robots patrolled the front door to the mansion. There was a stone statue of Lu Xin by the front gates that was decorated with plenty of fresh flowers by his foot, indicating all the respects paid during his memorial service.

Lee: “That place next to the statue might be the reception, it looks like they turned this place into a memorial hall open to the public.”

Thankfully, the memorial hall’s security wasn’t particularly heavy. Engineer 001 didn’t drop the ball this time and successfully stopped the few security robots as he let Zhanlu control the surveillance inside the yard.

“Alright, we can go…Jingheng?”

Lin Jingheng pulled himself back to reality and responded lightly as he quickly pulled back his unfocused gaze.

He hadn’t returned to this place for as long as how old Lu Bixing was right now.

The technology of rebuilding and recreating something in modern times was so advanced that they could recreate virtually anything with the proper references. Lu Xin’s home was identical to the place in Lin Jingheng’s memories; even those tree branches that looked as if they had been chewed on by a dog were exactly the same. He took a step inside and almost had a delusion—he felt as if he was still in the Black Orchid Academy, busy as a bee and reluctantly returning back for a few days during vacation.

Lu Bixing held his arm and asked: “What happened?”

“Auntie…your mom, she would always pick me up over here,” Lin Jingheng said quietly, “no matter how late it was.”

Lu Bixing was taken aback for a moment and then followed his gaze: there was a small room inside the large entrance hallway that was decorated with a simple desk and chair. There was a small tea set resting on the desk, the floor covered with a soft carpet flooring.

“There was one time I came home very late, I’d already told her before that she didn’t need to wait for me. But when I came back, I saw that room was still lit; she had a jacket over her pajamas as she worked on her new class curriculum while she waited for me to return.”

Bayer thoughtfully asked Zhanlu to turn on the light inside that little room.

Ever since Lu Bixing learned that his ‘mother’ had been a fabricated tale by Monoeyed Hawk, his impression of a ‘mother’ had been a blurry image in his mind. Even after seeing a photo of Madam Lu on Zhanlu’s database, he still found it difficult to connect himself to her.

But Lin Jingheng was like a key to his unknown past; within a short instant through those mundane words, that strange woman living inside the photo finally materialized as a real person in Lu Bixing’s heart.