Chapter 992 - This Game Is Too Realistic

**Chapter 992: The Crossroads of Fate** Near the engine room on the lower deck. A holographic orange-yellow caution tape hovered across the corridor, marking off a massive quarantined area. This was the epicenter of the impact incident. A civilian spacecraft, comparable in size to a lifeboat, had collided with the outer shell of the Orpheus-class cruiser, embedding half its body directly into the hull. In the short span of humanity's aerospace history, such a collision was remarkably shocking. What mystified everyone was how this small spacecraft managed to penetrate the deflector shield’s defenses and breach the seemingly impenetrable hull. Fortunately, the damaged area was the gym in the lower deck’s living quarters. At the time, as the ship was preparing to enter hyperspace, recreational facilities were in lockdown, and thus, no one was injured. This unexpected turn of events drew many onlookers. The ship's safety and maintenance department promptly shut down the ventilating system for the damaged region and acted according to safety protocols, insulating the area. Though the actual damage was confined to a small cabin, the safety director decided to quarantine the entire connected area based on the engineering division’s report. At this moment, an engineer donned in a space exoskeleton stood by the isolation zone, operating a tablet. Noticing Luo Yi's approach, an engineer stepped forward to address him. "Hey, this is a controlled area. You need to gear up." Luo Yi hung a respirator around his neck and presented his Division Three ID. "My body modifications allow me to endure low-pressure environments. Is there any risk of a secondary explosion?" The engineer exchanged a glance with a nearby colleague before replying. "That's unlikely. We've already deactivated the offending ship's reactor and chemical batteries." "Alright then, I'll just take a look from outside to assess the situation." Luo Yi patted the engineer’s shoulder and proceeded through the isolation tape to the door marked "Under Repair." The alloy door was tightly sealed, reinforced with folded titanium alloy plates inside and out. A staff member beside him handed over a tablet linked to the repair robots’ cameras. Through the screen, Luo Yi viewed the room’s condition. The gym equipment had been slammed into a corner by a massive impact, and the spaceship’s hull was indented with a crater about 1-2 meters wide. The scene was nothing short of catastrophic. Frowning, Luo Yi thought to himself, this damage seemed improbable for a civilian craft of lifeboat scale. "It's almost as if there was an explosion, right?" The engineer, seeing his expression, shrugged and quipped, "But there wasn't. We found no penetrative warheads on the ship. This is indeed a scientific research civilian ship. The exterior shows evident oxidation marks, suggesting regular atmospheric use." Another staff member chimed in. "In any case, we rescued the occupants immediately. We don’t have the tools aboard to handle other damage, so it’s a job for the starport crew." Nodding, Luo Yi jotted down the information onto a storage chip and queried further. "The child you saved mentioned another person in the research ship, a young girl. Did you find anyone?" The staff at the doorway traded puzzled glances, then looked at him bemusedly. “How is that possible?” "The Division Eight rescue team went in right away; there was only one hibernation pod on the whole ship." "Did he hit his head or something?” Luo Yi didn’t respond immediately. He tapped the screen twice, navigating the repair robot to move closer, directing the camera towards the malformed cockpit. Nothing was there. While pondering, an engineer suddenly spoke. "So, something strange did happen." Luo Yi turned to him. "What do you mean?" The engineer continued. "Some people heard the explosion, and some didn’t." Luo Yi was taken aback. He distinctly recalled hearing it, which was why he rushed to the scene instantly. Yet, indeed some, like his comrade Xiao Yong, only arrived after the alarms went off. Rather peculiarly, the alarms didn’t activate immediately after the explosion, only sounding when reports of damage trickled in from the lower deck and were manually triggered by Division One. That anomaly led to a crowd gathering; usually, if alarms didn’t blare, it indicated no serious issue, spurring curiosity. What remained inexplicable was why some heard the explosion while others didn’t. Reflecting on the scene, Luo Yi noted only dozens were present, relatively few compared to the thousands on the lower deck. "Is there any pattern to it?” "I couldn’t discern any," the engineer shook his head. "I was going to ask if you had any clues." Nearby, a staff member teased. "This should be Division Five's work, right? The war's over; they should be of some use now." "Someone mentioned time travelers." "Haha, if that’s true, we should hurry and buy some personal accidental insurance." "A good deal, will the 'Alliance' pay up?" Laughter erupted. Clearly, no one believed the child’s claims of being from the future — after all, they were all still alive. Just then, the engineer remembered something else. “Oh, there’s one more thing.” Luo Yi lifted his head from his thoughts. "Can you spit it out all at once next time?” “I just remembered…” The engineer glanced at the adjoining rooms and pointed to the far corner. “That’s the canteen in the living quarters. At the time, there were people inside, but they didn't react until our team entered.” Luo Yi was stunned again. His station was farther away, and yet he heard the explosion clearly, whereas those near the epicenter seemed oblivious? “Isn’t that odd? The canteen’s soundproofing isn’t great, people often complained about the noise,” the engineer chuckled, half-serious, “Perhaps we need a proper priest.” “Good point.” Luo Yi nodded, returning the tablet to the staff beside him. He then addressed the engineer earnestly. “This information is crucial. I want to identify who heard the explosion on the lower deck and who didn’t, and map out their actions and locations at the time. This might help resolve our current predicament.” “Great idea,” the engineer snapped his fingers. "Go discuss it with Division Eight; it’s their turf." Division Eight was responsible for the ship's safety and maintenance, essentially the law and order department on the ship, including the safety chief, deputies, and emergency rescue teams. Though the Engineering and Maintenance Division (Division Four) also included “maintenance” in its name, it mainly dealt with equipment upkeep and outer space operations — more technical tasks. The three-thousand-strong spaceship resembled a small spacefaring town, with nearly everyone assigned specific roles. Yet, at times, Luo Yi couldn’t help but gripe about the sheer number of divisions, even for straightforward tasks, it took them a moment to figure out who was in charge. But, fortunately, everyone was dutiful. No one shirked responsibility, even though there were more tasks than people. Luo Yi diligently noted the gathered intel, nodded decisively, and said, “I’ll make sure of it.” ... Division Three, the Weapons and Defense Division, functioned as the quasi-combat wing of the Orpheus-class missile cruiser and also handled emergency response operations. Though typical security issues fell under Division Eight's jurisdiction, grave incidents causing structural damage, threatening the crew’s safety, or implicating potential enemy sabotage warranted Division Three’s involvement. As a professional soldier, Luo Yi moved swiftly. Having inspected the accident site and the torpedo vault, he promptly headed to Division Eight to exchange information and accessed records of facility access control. Using this approach, he could easily trace everyone’s whereabouts during the incident. For the intelligence provided by Division Three, Division Eight showed a considerable degree of seriousness, deploying almost all their security personnel to conduct interviews with all 1,600 crew members on the lower deck. The investigation results surprised everyone. Only about two hundred people heard the explosion, and because the alarms didn't sound, most didn't think much of it. In Division Eight's conference room, a three-dimensional holographic image of the Orpheus-class cruiser’s lower deck hovered above the conference table. Following the combat personnel’s input from Division Three, the areas where people heard the explosion were marked in red, while those where it went unheard were marked in yellow. The light-blue holographic image was almost entirely filled with red and yellow, the winding red resembling a dragon sprawling across the ship's inner body, yet showing no apparent pattern. Interestingly, within a single area, everyone either heard the explosion, or no one did. In other words, there wasn't a mixed possibility between red and yellow. "It seems the issue lies in the spatial distribution," Luo Yi mused as he looked at the map littered with markings. "I think we should focus our inspection on those rooms marked in red." The safety director of Division Eight stood nearby, his bearded face full of a subtle expression. He seemed to have thought of something that sounded too far-fetched but eventually coughed and spoke up. "Do you know what I’m reminded of?" A dozen eyes around the conference table turned to him, and Luo Yi asked on behalf of everyone present. "What is it?" The safety director promptly replied. "Schrödinger’s Cat." Whispers circulated around the table, and some nodded in agreement. Watching the silent Luo Yi, the safety director cautiously continued. "Aren’t we stuck in a hyperspace corridor right now? Coupled with this strange incident... Do you think we might be trapped in a space resembling a quantum realm?" Not one for ambiguous theories, Luo Yi asked seriously. "What exactly is a quantum realm? What’s the precise definition?” The safety director was momentarily stumped, rubbing his stubble with his index finger, he chuckled awkwardly. "I'm basically guessing here. I didn’t study physics... I majored in logistics management." A nearby security officer whistled, teasingly saying, "Looks like no one on this ship is actually in the right field." "Isn't that guy from Division Five technically in the right field?" "On paper, but it's useless." Surprised to find someone else poking fun at Dr. Wu, Luo Yi gave a resigned expression. "I'm planning to consult him soon... about your so-called quantum space." The safety director coughed awkwardly. "That name? I just made it up. But it’s the idea you should ask about." Despite the levity, they all respected Dr. Wu’s academic excellence. In his technical knowledge and degrees, everyone still placed a great deal of trust. After the meeting, Luo Yi hurried over to Division Five, only to find Dr. Wu wasn’t there. Instead, he encountered an intern who informed him that Dr. Wu had wandered off for a drink again. The Scientific and Technical Division had too little work and was essentially a sidelined department, so those working there tended to have laid-back personalities and were accustomed to laziness. With no other choice, Luo Yi contacted friends in Division Eight, eventually tracking down the inebriated Dr. Wu at a bar in a corner of the mid-deck. Watching Wu Xinghuan slumped over the bar counter, Luo Yi sighed and took a seat beside him, glancing at the biomechanical robotic bartender. "Two lemon waters." "Would you like them iced or at room temperature?" "One iced and one room temperature.” "Certainly, sir." The robotic bartender replied warmly, and shortly after, two glasses, each with a slice of lemon, were placed on the table. Pushing the warm glass towards Dr. Wu, Luo Yi picked up his own, sipped the icy water, and contemplated. From the standard time start at 8 AM until now, after work hours, he’d been busy for nearly ten hours without eating a bite. However, that wasn’t solely due to being busy; he just didn’t have the appetite. As he watched Wu Xinghuan reach for the glass, Luo Yi casually commented. "Drinking during work hours, is that appropriate?" "It doesn't matter..." Wu Xinghuan took a sip, frowned at the lack of alcohol, and noted the warmth. Seeing his indifferent attitude, Luo Yi raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Weren’t you talking about a new physics discovery, saying we’d remember you... the you who couldn't part with a bottle?” At this comment, Wu Xinghuan chuckled self-deprecatingly, swirling the lemon water, his dazed gaze falling on the liquor cabinet ahead. "It’s all irrelevant now... No one will remember us. I didn’t discover any new physics, nor did the old structure collapse. It’s even more solid. We're still in our cage, merely that hamster that stops on the wheel." Clearly drunk, Luo Yi couldn’t fathom his ramblings, though he gathered that Wu seemed to dismiss his previous conclusions. "So... do you now believe that kid isn’t a time traveler anymore?” "Does it really matter?" Wu Xinghuan shook his head and took another sip. Frowning deeply, Luo Yi earnestly locked eyes with Wu Xinghuan. "Listen, you’re our only hope of understanding what's happening. We need to know. I’m not aware of the setbacks in your research, but right now, at least, I need you to pull yourself together!" This statement seemed to have some effect, as Wu Xinghuan looked up, eyes staring straight into his. “Let’s hypothesize something.” Luo Yi watched him, indicating with his gaze for him to continue. Placing the glass on the counter, Wu Xinghuan pinched two seeds out of the lemon slice and tossed them in. Watching the seeds sink, he slowly began. "Imagine there’s a video game, with a substantial number of people... let’s say 10 billion." Luo Yi furrowed his brow. "And then?” Wu Xinghuan continued. "Our eyes have limits, of course, as do lenses. Let’s say this lens can only see 100 million people, compatible with supporting 100 million on screen." Before Luo Yi could ask, Wu Xinghuan hurried on. "So, here’s the question, the 9.9 billion outside this lens, where are they?” Thoroughly puzzled by the question, Luo Yi paused, his expression perplexed as he answered. "Obviously, they’re outside the lens.” "Smart!" Wu Xinghuan raised a thumb, grinning, “But you’ve only scratched the surface... The truth is, they exist in a quantum state.” "You know they're there, the mainframe recognizes their existence, and even their names are recorded. However, within the program, they aren't directly generated, are they? Or rather, they’re cached, only rendered when the lens swings over, and we see them." "This was how games of the old era were produced cost-effectively, limiting the perspective to a specific range and cleverly utilizing scene loading, a few textures could craft an entire planet." "I kind of understand what you're getting at," Luo Yi said, furrowing his brow. "But what does this have to do with our current situation?" Wu Xinghuan didn’t answer directly, instead, spilling the glass over the counter. Seeing Luo Yi’s baffled expression, Wu Xinghuan began speaking slowly. "An explosion occurred off-lens, and it’s not only real; you’ve seen the casualties, the fallout, the aftermath... But did the explosion truly happen?" “Do you even need to ask?” Luo Yi, utterly bemused, replied. "You yourself said the explosion actually occurred.” "I’m the mainframe; I’m the storyteller. It’s me who narrated the explosion to you," Wu Xinghuan laughed while intently catching his gaze. "But what you should understand is that before shifting the lens over, the explosion effects, the screams, and whatever someone witnessed before dying were not actually generated within my program, were they?” "Perhaps when the explosion took place, someone was flipping the bird at you, beyond the game itself. I bet you'd gasp in disbelief if you saw it, as some NPC had not only gained self-awareness but also broke the fourth wall... However, you wouldn’t see it because when you shifted the lens over, not even the corpse might be traceable." Luo Yi stared at him dumbstruck, as a vague understanding began to form. "Event horizon," Wu Xinghuan slowly articulated, continuing, "We refer to the spacetime boundary of an event, just at the cusp of being observable, as the 'event horizon.' In this exaggerated example, the edge of your camera lens is what I'm referring to as the horizon." "For us sitting here, trapped in the hyperspace corridor, we are just beyond this 'event horizon.' The same goes for that misguided kid; we're all trapped in a black box impervious to outside observation. Our ending is a foregone conclusion to him, while his fate is irrelevant to us because, regardless of what he tells us or what the future holds, in his timeline, we are already dead." Here, Wu Xinghuan laughed at himself. "The universe is far crueler than we imagine, isn't it? By this theory, whatever we do now is meaningless. Even if we engrave our legendary stories on these walls, they will be erased like everything else meant to be forgotten." "Perhaps in history, we've encountered countless time travelers... but without exception, like that NPC outside the camera's view flipping off the player, no one knew they broke the fourth wall. When the god looking down on us finally takes notice, they've already been completely erased. The reason being precisely what we've observed... because we've never heard of this time traveler." Luo Yi found himself holding his breath, finally speaking after some time. "But... how did we get here?" Was it merely due to hyperspace travel? Since the war began, they'd undertaken countless hyperspace journeys, and never had any ship encountered such a situation... Wait. It's possible it wasn't that they hadn’t encountered such occurrences. A bead of cold sweat trailed across Luo Yi's forehead, eventually dropping onto the bar counter. Perhaps it had happened; they just didn’t know. Just like how no one knows what happens after death, whether there's reincarnation or a place called heaven. What they left for the external world—or within the "horizon"—was just one piece of information. Undeniable death. "How did we get here? Haha, only God knows how we ended up in this mess." Wu Xinghuan laughed, noticing that Luo Yi seemed to have had some revelation, and continued slowly, "This sort of thing doesn't matter at all. Perhaps a big bang killed us all in an instant, only we're unaware..." As he said this, he hiccuped, drunkenly gazing at Luo Yi and enunciated. "Why did I say you're doing something meaningless? Because what that kid said is true! We might already have... no, not might, we certainly have!" "We are already dead!" "And you and I here... are but ghosts." The area around the bar stood silent. Only the delicate sound of the biomechanical robot polishing glasses filled the air. Luo Yi sat there, staring at Wu Xinghuan for a long time, before turning to the robotic bartender. “... Two 'Springs of Life.'” The biomechanical bartender replied in a gentle voice. "I wouldn’t recommend drinking on duty, especially not strong cocktails." "But you served him." Luo Yi gestured to Wu Xinghuan beside him. A troubled expression momentarily crossed the bartender's face. "But he said he’s from Division Five, and you all say Division Five doesn't have to work..." Luo Yi's brow twitched slightly, yet he maintained an even demeanor and replied. "I ordered it for him." This rationale seemed to satisfy the bartender, and two crystal-clear glasses of strong liquor were soon placed on the bar. Luo Yi pushed one towards Dr. Wu, then sprinkled some salt into his own glass. "Everything you said is just speculation. I could suggest that we're actually on different timelines... like the parallel universe theory." Wu Xinghuan shrugged. "You don't really understand what the parallel universe theory is. If you did, you'd know it's not much different from what I’ve said. The fate of this portion of space-time is predetermined, almost inevitably so." "I believe there is a difference. The difference is that I am still breathing; my heart still beats. At least for now, I am alive," Luo Yi gazed steadily into his eyes and continued with deliberate emphasis, "Living people should do what living people do, and leave matters of the dead to those alive." "However, I must apologize for my previous bias. You've done more than anyone here, perhaps far more." In front of a surprised Dr. Wu, Luo Yi drained his glass of strong liquor, braced himself on the table, and stood up. "I still have things I can do, though it may seem meaningless to you, but I refuse to give up." Just as he was about to leave, the sound of clapping came from the entrance to the bar. All three, including the bartender, turned towards the door to see their captain standing there. "Good day, Captain," smiled the bartender as it greeted. Wu Xinghuan awkwardly tried to hide the glass behind him, sliding off the stool. Because standing behind the captain was his cousin, Wu Mengke. He felt the piercing gaze fixated on him, despite being utterly inebriated. "Well said." Zhao Tianhe lowered his hands and nodded toward the robotic bartender, then looked at the two in front of the bar with a smile. "That’s the spirit a Union fighter should have—never giving up until the very end." "You flatter me..." Luo Yi replied nervously while performing a military salute. Zhao Tianhe returned the salute casually and then addressed the figure unsteadily trying to stand straight, smiling all the while. "Dr. Wu, I noticed you used the word 'almost' when discussing 'our fate is predetermined.'" "It’s just that..." Wu Xinghuan muttered awkwardly, avoiding Wu Mengke's sharp gaze, as he scratched his nose. Zhao Tianhe maintained his smile, saying, "So there’s a possibility of change, right?” Wu Xinghuan was momentarily taken aback. Before he could speak, the captain paused and then continued. “Like... keeping the predetermined future unchanged, and only altering what's unknown." Wu Xinghuan replied with a bitter smile. "How could that be possible..." Zhao Tianhe looked at him, stating, “The Gemini is a sister ship to the Orpheus. We share the same design blueprint." Wu Xinghuan looked quizzically at the captain. "You mean..." With straightforward logic, Zhao Tianhe explained, "The ship that collided with us lacks deep space travel capability. We reasonably speculate the incident occurred near Earth... at least somewhere with accessible means via propulsion engines." Wu Xinghuan glanced at Luo Yi, who nodded in agreement, and softly said, "It seems... so." Unmindful of this small interaction, Zhao Tianhe continued, “And we are in the hyperspace corridor. From my understanding, a hyperspace corridor doesn’t have endpoints in classical space but only in terms of time... Am I right?” “Not precisely, but close enough. We can't calculate our distance relative to two massive celestial bodies... Wait, do you mean—" Mid-sentence, Wu Xinghuan's eyes widened, staring at the captain in astonishment. Zhao Tianhe shared his hypothesis. “Could it be that this time traveler claiming to have boarded the Orpheus doesn’t actually know if they’re on the Orpheus or the Gemini?” Luo Yi furrowed his brow, questioning, "But hasn’t the Gemini already returned—" Zhao Tianhe raised a hand, interrupting him. “They were sunk, and it was we who sank them.” An uneasy silence settled over the bar. Luo Yi and Wu Xinghuan froze, with the former instinctively looking toward Wu Mengke behind Zhao Tianhe—the executive officer of the starship. Her face was expressionless, showing no hint of surprise. It was clear the captain wasn’t fabricating. Luo Yi’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared incredulously at Zhao Tianhe, this superior he once respected immensely. “...Why?” Zhao Tianhe looked at the young soldier, sighing slowly, his voice tinged with complexity as he replied. “Because... we had no other choice.” "You… killed them..." Wu Xinghuan stared blankly at his cousin, forcing out the last part of his sentence in a trembling voice, "...three thousand people?" His eyes fixed intensely on her, but this time it was she who looked away, avoiding her brother’s gaze. Zhao Tianhe gently cleared his throat, breaking the oppressive tension hanging in the air. "We had to stop the Astral Navy's crime, and as for the specific process...everything is documented in the black box. Once we return to the space station at the Lagrange Point, I will submit myself for arrest and explain my actions to the military tribunal. Moreover, this was my decision alone, unlinked to any of you." "In short, there's a deeper conspiracy behind this 'incident.' I don't want my honor to be tainted, but we had to make a choice. If we didn’t act, not only would we die, but many others would too, including countless survivors who barely scraped through these last three years..." Luo Yi stood in a daze, unable to fathom or accept this hastily provided explanation from his respected captain. The Gemini was a sister ship to the Orpheus, and the crews often rotated. There were many aboard whom he knew personally. But now his most esteemed commander was telling him... those people were dead. And they were the killers. And it happened without the majority even knowing the truth... Wu Xinghuan took a deep breath, attempting to distance himself mentally from this devastating news. He did glimpse a sliver of hope— Whispering to himself in a voice only he could hear. "There are two cats in the box…only one is dead, the other's fate remains unknown." "We've seen the person who opened the box, but the one who opened it only saw a dead cat…as long as they die, we are alive." Luo Yi couldn’t understand what he was muttering and was too mentally strained to care. Watching the young man lost in despair, a weariness—never before shown—etched onto Zhao Tianhe's slightly aged face, he slowly began to speak. "I'll explain later about the Gemini and the orders from the Lagrange Point space station, but for now, let's focus on solving our immediate problem." ... (To be continued)