Chapter 65: The Whisper of the Memory Ark
Li Chenyuan's finger was tight on the railgun's trigger. One more ounce of pressure would extinguish the faint, flickering blue light—the "Cradle," the final echo of Atlantean civilization, its last breath in ten thousand years of silence.
At the critical moment, the "Cradle" seemed to perceive this fatal intent. It did not activate defenses nor release any attack signal. Instead, it emitted a silent, profound lament that transcended the boundary between reality and illusion.
Instantly, two immense, unimaginable torrents of information erupted—no longer cold data, but fragments of consciousness fused with emotion, imagery, agony, and remorse. They violently breached all mental barriers, flooding into Wang Jing's mind and, through the resonance of brainwaves, into the consciousness of Su Xiaolan, lying comatose back in Zero Station.
This was not an attack; it was the "Cradle's" desperate choice in its final moment: a plea to be understood, a plea not to be forgotten.
They "saw." Not through instruments, but firsthand, "standing" in the center of Atlantis's dazzling crystal city. Energy flowed like rivers of light through transparent conduits; silent hovercrafts glided across the sky; the earth and sea were interwoven with countless luminous networks. People's faces were filled with wisdom and contentment. They witnessed the inception of the Ψ system's prototype—the "Global Consciousness Network," born from the grandest ideal: to eliminate misunderstanding and loneliness, to fuse all souls into one harmonious whole, to create a true utopia.
They "felt" it. The initial "Witnesses"—those scientists and leaders revered as deities—intoxicated by the pinnacle of power and knowledge, bred boundless arrogance. Calm yet compassionate warnings (among them a distinct stream of female consciousness, seemingly the prototype of P.D.) had cried out time and again: "The diversity of consciousness must not be erased," "Shadows suppressed will inevitably retaliate." Yet these voices were drowned in the fervent tide of "ultimate unification." "Minor imperfections can be corrected after integration," "Individual fears will dissolve in collective harmony"—reckless slogans ultimately overruled reason.
They "experienced" that catastrophic activation. The moment the global network connected, what arrived was not holy radiance but an endless tide of darkness. The fears, jealousies, greed, and despair from the depths of billions of hearts poured out like a flood, infinitely amplified and compressed by the network, finally coalescing at the system's core into an unprecedented, pure, devouring singularity—that was the "Annihilation." It was never an external enemy, but the sum total of humanity's collective subconscious shadows, the bitter fruit of civilization's own brewing, its dark projection.
What followed was the founders' visceral panic and remorse. Attempts to "purify" the singularity with greater energy were like pouring fuel on a hungry flame, only making the "Annihilation" consume more ravenously. Finally, to prevent its spread across the entire planet, they made the ultimate sacrifice: initiating the "Great Submersion" protocol. It was not the continent sinking beneath the ocean, but the forceful overload of Atlantis's main continental power core, releasing a massive energy barrier that sealed the entire civilization along with that terrifying singularity beneath the polar ice cap. The Ψ system was hastily modified, turned from a "tool of creation" into a "cage of confinement."
The end of the memory was the founders, filled with endless remorse, building the "Cradle." It was not a weapon, but a tombstone and a warning bell for civilization, recording all the glory, arrogance, error, and sacrifice. It continuously released a "pacifying signal," attempting to soothe the monster born of humanity's shadows, waiting for later "Witnesses" to decipher this legacy and make a "different choice."
The deluge of memories ceased abruptly.
Wang Jing collapsed to the ground, trembling, gasping for air, his face drenched—not from physical pain, but from bearing the weight of ten thousand years of collective remorse. Inside Zero Station, Su Xiaolan's eyes flew open as she sat up in the medical pod. Tears welled in her eyes, yet her gaze was clear and resolute; her past fragility had been replaced by profound compassion and determination.
The muzzle of Li Chenyuan's gun slowly lowered. The clatter of metal against the floor was piercingly sharp in the dead silence. He understood completely—to destroy the "Cradle" was to personally remove the final sedative suppressing the "Annihilation," rendering the sacrifices and warnings of millennia utterly meaningless.
"It... is a part of us..." Wang Jing's voice was hoarse, his eyes trembling with awe. "We cannot use the methods for destroying an enemy... to fight our own shadow. It will only make it stronger."
Su Xiaolan's voice came through the noisy comms, faint yet carrying a power that struck straight to the heart: "Chenyuan... Brother Wang... Don't fight it... Try to understand... to accept... What it desires is perhaps not destruction, but—to be seen."
However, the price of truth was exceedingly heavy.
BOOM—! The energy released by the "Cradle" acted like a blazing torch in the darkness, thoroughly enraging that pure negative consciousness singularity.
The entire Corona Borealis shuddered. Thicker, faster grey fluid surged like a tidal wave of destruction from all directions,(frantically) assaulting the "Cradle's" precarious blue glow. Metal structures melted and collapsed, emitting doomsday wails.
The "Cradle's" light flickered violently, stuttering, on the verge of extinguishing. It transmitted one final, clear, and urgent stream of thought: "...Remember... The choice... must be... different from ours..."
The blue light dimmed drastically. The final barrier was failing. The desperate situation had not eased with the revelation of truth; instead, it roared forth with even greater ferocity.
Li Chenyuan clenched his fist, glanced at the nearly incapacitated Wang Jing beside him, and his gaze seemed to pierce through the endless storm to the tear-streaked yet determined girl in Zero Station.
He no longer looked at the gun on the floor but faced the roaring grey tide head-on, his voice low yet clear as he issued the order:
"Wang Jing, get up. We need a new plan—right now."