♫
I feel like the morning fell Like the bottom's falling out…
The music from the toy store's glider echoes through the space, and the clerk enthusiastically pitches as he hits the pause button:
"This is one of our hottest rental models - the Superpower Series Toy Glider. Not only does it have a higher load-bearing capacity than a standard glider, but it also features passenger glide, entertainment, and cruise modes. I highly recommend trying out the entertainment mode; it's very popular and guarantees an unforgettable experience. If returned in pristine condition, I'll offer you a special price of just 3 Dobos, the same as the regular children's model. Consider it our little contribution to the Patrol Team, hehe. After all, the superhero theme never goes out of style, whether you're a hero or a villain, whether it's wall-crawling or invisibility…"
The clerk's words linger in Lean's ears like a haunting melody.
Standing on the beach, Lean wishes he could truly vanish, even if just for a short while.
He dreads to think what has happened in the containment area. His brain feels hammered by the prolonged nine minutes, each second draining away his hopes, reminding him how his future is becoming more blurred and distant.
With this precious little time, he decides to first clarify that his actions have no connection with the team, driven purely by the compulsion of his "healer" profession. He fears being misunderstood and labeled with "Disorder Syndrome."
His gaze falls on the black sandy beach, his thoughts becoming more complex. The pen-like sound wave capturer and the dim badge-shaped panoramic mapper were supposed to be key to his plan. But now, they lie abandoned at the feet of the One-Eye 12s, at risk of being crushed at any moment. If the plan had gone smoothly, they should be inside the containment area, transmitting risk visuals and warning signals to the Patrol Team. But now, the plan is only half completed, with the real key still lying on the beach.
In 14 seconds, the One-Eye 12s from the containment area will find him, bringing scrutiny from the Tenth District Patrol Team, perhaps even accusations.
I, at twenty-three, just nine months and eleven days since awakening, am about to face a grim fate of being recycled for violating order.
Lean closes his eyes, lost in introspection.
His heart is torn. What should he do? Should he step forward and explain everything? A proactive approach might earn him some understanding. With this thought, a glimmer of hope sparks within him. Optimistically, he's not just any mass-produced model, like those household units from Olm Company. He possesses unique skills; maybe some department still needs him. So, should he turn himself in early to show sincerity, or wait until the commotion subsides? Waiting until the crowd disperses could at least avoid more chaos…
Outside the containment area, the lively drama that just unfolded with the glider and lo-ol rushing into the area has abruptly ceased. The chasing One-Eye 12s halt, signifying the end of their duty as the targets have entered the containment area – the troublesome mess now handed over to the internals. They return to their regular monitoring and patrol state, as if nothing happened.
Lean's thoughts continue to wrestle as he takes heavy steps towards the containment area. Just then, a familiar silhouette emerges on the walls of the area, catching his eye - it's lo-ol.
Suspended mid-air, lo-ol is clamped between two One-Eye 12s, dragged out like a piece of cargo. Its loose coat, trailing behind, is stained with black sand. It looks as if lo-ol, along with the coat, is about to be sent to the 'cleaner,' destined to be dismantled into tiny fragments in the recycling chamber.
Lean's thoughts churn as he quickens his pace.
Before he gets closer, two more One-Eye 12s emerge from the wall, their metallic surfaces reflecting a cold gleam. They don't have the toy glider, which unsettles Lean. He watches as they converse silently with the One-Eye 12s outside the containment area, then, all of their gazes turn uniformly towards him.
Lean consciously raises his hands to his chest, forcing a stiff smile on his face.
Even though he knows the One-Eye 12s can't interpret the expression, he still tries to present a good posture.
·
The scene inside the containment area slightly startles Lean.
In his imagination, this place should have been set up by the Ecological Security and Order Bureau as a closely monitored fortress of order, with walls packed with dense devices, flickering with 3D images and data streams. But the reality is vastly different from his expectations. The area is empty and silent, the only movement coming from a group of One-Eye 12s silently transporting sealed boxes, paying no heed to his presence.
"Fu fu... fu... fu..."
Intermittent groans emit from the gel crystal partition at the far end of the containment area.
Lean can't help but turn his head, his gaze peering through the semi-transparent hemispherical partition. Although his view is limited, he can still catch glimpses of the scene inside through the passing One-Eye 12s: the infected creature, covered in white bandages, lies prostrate on the sand, gasping weakly. Its half-closed eye is obscured by dense indigo-green lines, radiating an unspeakable despair.
Lean's heart churns with a cold tide; he is too late.
The sight before him is worse than he feared. All the reasons and justifications he had prepared for his actions lose their significance in front of the weakened GenShell, appearing pale and feeble.
He watches the One-Eye 12s busily operating around it. They are extracting two completely different types of biominerals from sealed boxes, apparently planning to transfer them to the interior of the gel crystal partition.
Lean's expression darkens, filled with intense unease. He mutters to himself: Wait, what are they trying to do? They're not really planning to use that crude method to forcibly extract the Yodao, are they? He can't believe what he's seeing. Although that method can quickly remove the Yodao, the trauma it causes to the infected organism's body is terribly frightening, with a huge cost. Considering the giant creature's current condition... such treatment would not only strip away much of its life but also severely damage its nest pouch.
His hands instinctively stretch forward, his body involuntarily leaning towards the partition.
Suddenly, an electric shock hits his black gloves, sending him stumbling back several steps, his arms numbing.
At that moment, he realizes he's locked in the central gel crystal compartment of the containment area, beside the drained and damaged glider. Outside the partition, two One-Eye 12s stand guard attentively.
Lean frantically gestures towards the direction of the semi-circular partition, shouting, "Danger! Danger!"
The two One-Eye 12s seem confused by his exaggerated gestures and moving lips. Their "eyes" scan him back and forth, seemingly trying to interpret his mime-like actions.
Lean suddenly realizes that his voice can't penetrate the compartment's barrier. Frustrated and ignoring the numbness in his arms, he quickly picks up the glider and uses its sharp wing edge to scratch something hastily in the sand. After finishing, he first points to the ground and then towards the nearby gel crystal partition, gesturing urgently to the two One-Eye 12s. He tries to convey his intentions in this simple and direct manner, hoping they can understand and stop the current dangerous actions.
The two One-Eye 12s observe silently for a moment. They lean forward slowly, scrutinizing the thing on the ground — a series of twisted, abstract scratches resembling reptilian tracks. They nod slightly, seemingly engaging in a silent conversation.
One seems to grasp his intent and suddenly looks up at Lean.
Lean looks at it with hope, watching the flickering data in its "eye" on the top of its head, hoping it has understood his intentions.
To his surprise, one One-Eye 12 awkwardly adjusts its mechanical palm to imitate a thumbs-up gesture, followed by the other One-Eye 12 catching on and beginning to clap in a stiff manner. At first, the clapping sounds awkward and slow, but gradually it becomes smoother and faster, as if eagerly praising his "artistic creation."
Lean can't help but give a bitter smile.