Chapter 1: A Life Like Garbage
PS: This book unfolds its world gradually through the protagonist's eyes. If it's not to your taste, kindly take a right turn when you head out. Thank you.
"I never imagined that in my previous life I'd exist like a blade of grass—and now, in this life, I've become nothing but trash." Clad in blue pajamas, Yang Bo stood before a vast, floor-to-ceiling window, gazing up at the starry sky.
Above the glittering expanse of stars, a brilliant circular ring shone brightly—dazzling both day and night. That was the spaceport, hovering over 30,000 kilometers above the planet. Beneath the ring, a long, shimmering reflection marked the presence of the space elevator that connected the ground to the port.
In his previous life, Yang Bo had been as insignificant as a blade of grass. At school, he was trampled by bullies; when he went out to work, factory supervisors kept him underfoot; even when he managed to buy a house, it turned out to be a half-finished building—and he dared not protest, for fear of severe repercussions. A cascade of misfortunes had left him feeling utterly stifled, and after bidding farewell to his parents, he finally gave up.
But who would have guessed that, upon opening his eyes in this new life, he'd found himself in a civilization of astounding technological advancement—a world that had already conquered entire galaxies. Humans now wielded weapons capable of obliterating planets, even stars; colossal warships stretched hundreds of kilometers in length; and mechas on the ground could break the sound barrier by more than ten times. All it took wasn't years of study but a single bio-chip to grant you access to all of humanity's current knowledge.
Yet none of this affected Yang Bo personally. His new body didn't even come with a clear identity—he had no known parents. He was merely a "factory baby," produced when his father paid a fee to have him created through advanced technology, while his mother remained a mystery. They said it was all "confidential."
In this world, humanity itself had undergone a dramatic transformation. People were gradually divided into two groups: Citizens and Residents. Citizens were those who successfully received the gene injections, granting them the freedom to travel throughout the interstellar federation. Residents, on the other hand, were the unfortunate ones for whom the gene injections had failed. These individuals were doomed to remain within their own cities—the failed gene meant they couldn't integrate a bio-chip and thus couldn't master the languages of multiple star systems. Their bodies couldn't withstand the punishing speeds of underground vacuum tunnels—reaching tens of thousands of kilometers per hour—nor could they handle the rapid ascent of space elevators, the onslaught of cosmic particles during interstellar travel, space radiation, or even the tremendous energy shock of a spaceship's spatial jump.
So, under the guise of protection, Residents were confined to a single city where they didn't have to work. They could obtain an unlimited supply of sufficient food from food banks, play games, wander freely, and enjoy free housing and living supplies. However, they were stripped of the right to procreate. Even if you wished to share a home with a partner, you'd be advised to purchase a robot to solve all your problems. And should you attempt to defy this rule by having children, the authorities would take necessary measures… Though, they'd never realize just how expensive it was to buy a beautiful female robot.
They would even offer you constant advice: after two hours of gaming, they'd suggest you log off for twenty minutes; if you stayed indoors all day, they'd advise you to step outside; and once a month, they'd recommend that you volunteer to interact with others and make friends. Every aspect of your health—your weight, heartbeat, breathing, and pulse—was monitored via a smart wristwatch, which then dispensed tailored advice. If you ignored these suggestions, a psychologist would be dispatched to assess you, and if you failed that evaluation, you'd be taken to a designated institution for free recuperation. By the end of the year, the politicians would present flawless reports on their care for the vulnerable—all backed by impeccable data. Without a smart wristwatch, however, you wouldn't be allowed through any door, into any elevator, or aboard any mode of transport—not even what was called your own home.
As for factory babies, that was permitted. The specialized factories had the technology to ensure your offspring would be healthy, and if you didn't wish to raise them, they would send these children to welfare institutions. Yang Bo's previous self had grown up in such an institution—a childhood full of innocent joy, a carefree youth, and as an adult, he even managed to get his own apartment and home.
"Maybe being a pig wouldn't be so bad after all… though I wonder what kind of person the previous resident—no, pig—was." Despite his myriad thoughts, Yang Bo ultimately found himself powerless to change his fate.
In this high-tech age, an individual's strength was minuscule. If Yang Bo were to jump off a building right now, drone police would arrive within thirty seconds and neutralize him immediately—after all, such an act might endanger others. Every piece of information you received was strictly controlled by your status, and his citizen rating was a dismal F. "Since I'm here now, I might as well enjoy it," he thought. Though he longed to visit the spaceport, Yang Bo had no choice but to accept reality—no matter how much anger or helplessness churned within him.
"And besides, the original owner died in a rather strange manner…" With biannual medical checkups and the support of a smart wristwatch that enforced a strict schedule, what were the chances that the original owner might have died suddenly?
Thud! In a roughly twenty-five-square-meter living room furnished with a sofa, a coffee table, simple yet tasteful decor, and a virtual image projector, a goldfish suddenly leapt out of its aquarium.
"Master, your goldfish has jumped out of the tank. According to Article 482 of the Federal Animal Protection Law, if a pet dies due to its owner's negligence, your eligibility to adopt future pets will be suspended," a cutesy voice announced from within the room.
"Understood," Yang Bo replied immediately.
He went to retrieve his goldfish, but having only recently taken over this body, he failed to notice the carpet on the floor. He tripped, fell, and suddenly felt a chill spread through his hand.
Swimming +1!
A stray message flashed through his mind, halting him in confusion as he prepared to get up. Was this some kind of perk for a time traveler? Or did it mean that the original owner's gene injection hadn't failed after all—that his abilities were simply shrouded in mystery? After all, the mightiest gene warriors could wield incredible powers, controlling elemental particles and even transforming their bodies into metal, among other abilities.
"Master, based on the chip data in your pet, the goldfish is now dead. The video has already been submitted to the court, which will evaluate your actions. Please use the #16 eco-bag to collect the goldfish's corpse and await further instructions."
Yang Bo took a deep breath and stood up, wincing as his legs ached. Yet the smart system remained indifferent—it cared only about the goldfish. This, he realized, was the priority hierarchy at work.
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Here, even trash disposal had its own standards. Without a smart bio-chip or wristwatch, an individual wouldn't know which type of waste required which eco-bag. One mistake, and you'd face all manner of penalties…
"Master, you're holding the #18 eco-bag, which is designated for electronic waste. The #16 eco-bag is located in the third box to your left. It is advised that you clean your room within the next 16 hours—microbial populations are on the verge of an explosive growth—and you should use cleaning agent #2 to curb bacterial proliferation and ensure a supply of fresh air," the intelligent speaker intoned once more.
"Congratulations, Master. The video of the goldfish's death has been submitted, and based on the footage, you are not held responsible for this incident. The court recommends that you undergo free psychological counseling when you next adopt a pet."
"Thank you!" Yang Bo sighed deeply, forced to express his gratitude.
"Master, the robot for retrieving the goldfish has arrived. It is advised that—"
Yang Bo exhaled sharply. Tomorrow he would search for a job—he had to work, even if it meant selling his life just to afford a house. According to the law, a purchased house was considered one's personal territory, whereas the current dwellings were government property, subject to constant surveillance.
"I still need to find some time to verify whether these so-called time traveler benefits are real," he muttered to himself.
"Master, it is advised that you clean up the goldfish's blood while wearing gloves, using #5 absorbent cotton. The used cotton should be disposed of in an #8 trash bag, and the gloves in a #2 trash bag. It is also recommended that you wash your hands thoroughly afterwards…"
(End of Chapter)