"Sorry, I got distracted for a moment." Talulah shifted her gaze to trace the contours of the Generator once more, confirming there were no unnecessary structures attached to it. She turned quickly and stepped out of the Generator's range.
Buzz—the Generator shut down again.
"It seems the Generator is running a self-check to ensure everything functions properly."
As Talulah walked into the cold wind, she found it refreshingly cool. Meanwhile, one of the infected workers, already accustomed to the warmth of the workstation, couldn't resist hurrying back inside.
"I'm here." Talulah pushed open the door, where she saw four people gathered around a typewriter on the first floor.
Gatling held a sheet of white paper and, noticing their leader had arrived, said, "Food, medical supplies, and shelter categories. Level one: workshop huts."
"Food, medical supplies, and shelter..." Talulah repeated the category names, pondering. Could the conditions really improve further?
Workshop huts were classified as level-one technology, which implied that there were even higher levels of shelter technology. The living conditions for the infected could indeed advance to another stage.
It seemed the Generator's claims were true—its plans to weather the storm far exceeded her expectations.
"I already think the conditions are great," one of the three infected said. They had never understood why anyone would want to flee the Generator. During past unrest, they had stayed at their workstations, paying no attention to the commotion outside.
Escape the Generator? They'd rather die at their workstations.
"Alright, you three have no idea what a sixty-degree temperature drop means," Gatling said with a furrowed brow, looking serious. "That's far scarier than a tax collector."
"Is it really that bad?"
The three infected were curious. Although they'd worked in the station for days and read plenty of data, they couldn't quite grasp how frightening a sixty-degree Celsius drop could be.
"It's terrifying," Gatling said casually.
"Whaaat—"
The three infected let out strange noises, their expressions earning a dark scowl from Gatling. Talulah, still deep in thought, couldn't help but chuckle.
Talulah rolled up the white paper and held it in her hand. Her golden eyes scanned the four individuals, easing the tension. "Alright, just follow the Generator's instructions. It's fine if you don't understand the significance of this sixty-degree drop yet."
"When the storm arrives, they'll understand."
In this short time, Gatling had already accepted the Generator's existence as fact—he just hadn't said it outright. "If they don't understand its importance, they'll never agree to work overtime."
"We're already working overtime, Gatling," one of the infected replied.
Talulah stepped onto the transport platform, followed by the three infected, leaving Gatling behind, muttering to himself—what did they mean by already working overtime?
Wasn't this no different from when he worked as a doctor?
Reaching the top level, Talulah found the required documents as instructed. On the way back down, she opened the first page, which described the origins of these workshop huts.
An engineer named Jenkins had designed the huts, allegedly forging a noble's signature to ensure the design was disseminated.
Talulah had read extensively about the histories of Ursus, Victoria, and even Gaul, yet she had never come across the name Jenkins.
Could it be from an unofficial account?
"A fascinating little story," she remarked. The subsequent pages detailed the hut designs, striking a balance between professional and accessible.
Talulah couldn't help but linger on the diagrams. The counterweight behind her slowly ascended, halting with a soft thud.
In the workstation below, the infected workers glanced up as Talulah stepped off the platform. The sound of triangular rulers clinking together echoed as Gatling prepared the necessary blueprints, waiting for their leader's instructions.
"I've got the documents," Talulah announced, striding to the table and placing them down. With both hands on the tabletop, she scanned the four workers, easing the awkward tension. "Ahem, let's divide the tasks..."
Meanwhile, the workers had grown familiar with the structure of the storage station, no longer requiring Alina to micromanage every detail. She noticed the Generator had been unusually quiet today.
Without Mr. Zhan's voice in her ear, she found herself oddly unaccustomed to the silence.
Having returned from a supply run, Wang Zhan tossed his groceries into the fridge and took a quick nap before settling back at his computer.
The workstation was running smoothly, with no emergencies to handle. The children's shelter was functioning well, and everything around the Generator seemed peaceful.
Maybe he could sleep a little longer?
"Mr. Zhan, are you there?"
"Yes, I'm here. What's up?"
Unable to hold back any longer, Alina spoke up. She wanted to confirm that Wang Zhan was indeed present. "I've distributed the clothes produced by the textile mill to the hunting team first, then to the workers at the collection station... next will be the textile and kitchen staff."
"You've done an excellent job," Wang Zhan replied. He briefly considered that it might be time to clarify Alina's responsibilities, which would not only make things easier for him but also save her the trouble of constantly seeking his approval.
Perhaps then he could enjoy a few more lazy mornings.
On-screen, Alina's lips curled into a smile, clearly pleased by Wang Zhan's praise. "Alina, from now on, I want you to take full charge of distributing living resources."
Granting her authority... it was a reasonable proposal, but wasn't this just because Mr. Zhan found her too bothersome?
Alina nearly stumbled at the thought but quickly reviewed recent events in her mind, concluding that the Generator was truly entrusting her with this responsibility.
Sure, it might have been partly because she had disrupted him—but that was negligible.
"Are you sure I'm capable of making decisions for you?"
"I've observed your efforts these past few days," Wang Zhan said. Without Alina, there would have been countless incidents—fights, injuries, lost children, and other chaos.
"Plus, you're even-tempered, trustworthy, and thoughtful in your decisions," he added, noting her flushed cheeks. Was it the cold weather, or had she stood in the wind too long by the distant storage station?
Either way, she'd have to endure it. Workers weren't stationed at the storage site, so it didn't need to be near the Generator.
"Most importantly, you're fair-minded and ensure everyone's needs are met." This kind of compliment had become second nature to Wang Zhan. If he kept going, he could probably list a dozen more reasons.
But saying too much risked tipping off employees that he was just buttering them up.
Such tactics wouldn't work on seasoned veterans.
"Um..." Alina was a little flustered, her head overheating to the point where she couldn't think straight. Why did she feel so different when Mr. Zhan praised her compared to when others did?
"You're too kind—I've only done what I should," she replied, her voice trailing off.
Wang Zhan grinned. She had taken the bait. "Then the task of distributing living resources is yours."
"If any conflicts arise because of it, you can bring them to me. Alright?"
Alina's dazed mind finally regained some clarity, but she was still distracted as she mulled over what had just happened. She answered reflexively, "Alright, I'll do my best to fulfill the responsibility you've given me."