Love, death, and false man

Chapter 17.17. Blissful Reincarnation
[Private First Class, Fang Yan. Your IQ must be over 160. You actually completed the mission within the standard seven-day deadline. Are you trying to put pressure on me? I will make you a Private First Class within ten days, a legend of the 7th Army, before 7:11 PM today. You have two hours to carry out the mission. I will issue the mission to you through the liaison officer before you finish class today. Choose a highly suspicious target, or some other mission. Please remain on standby.]

Then, stop bombarding your liaison with messages. Liaison work is high-pressure and serious; you shouldn't be reporting mental health issues or asking for classified information. I can only tell you that due to the misuse of gravitational particle accelerators and the distortion of spacetime dimensions, the entire history of the universe has become a multi-layered, nested, intersecting vector relationship loop with different time directions. The flow of time in your era is consistent with mine. Our communication with the past is confined within this vector direction. No great power can anchor itself to a specific point, making it impossible to convey commands to your past self or your future self, because they don't exist in the real-time universe. I have already abused my authority by informing you of information only those with a non-commissioned officer rank can obtain. So, I wish you good luck in your military endeavors.

It's as if his personality was on the verge of disintegration, and then pieced back together.

After reading the message, Fang Yan froze for several seconds, took a deep breath, and felt as if he had been bathed in a refreshing rain after being covered in cold sweat.

"Multi-layered nested vector relationships with different time points intersecting in a loop... anchoring... it's true! Free will is an ideology that opposes the number 0-1! It's true, I may not have had my memories altered, nor do I have a copy of myself, I am my original version, now I have to go to class, see you next week."

The fatal logic flaw was temporarily fixed by the update package. Fang Yan believed that as long as the program ran smoothly, it was fine to add any strange or useless code.

Fang Yan ran to the community psychiatrist during his lunch break because he had to go back to class. Otherwise, the big data algorithm of the Soul Absorber would detect a problem and he would be exposed.

He put his baseball cap back on, slung his backpack containing the MP5 submachine gun over his shoulder, and hurriedly left the female doctor's office.

The female doctor was left in a messy office, muttering to herself.

“Multi-layered nesting... a Möbius strip, no, more accurately, a Penrose staircase with X connecting surfaces, X to the power of X paths, but always able to converge, like an ingeniously designed magnificent building, containing a generalized physical universe encompassing all dimensions of time.”

The female doctor was writing a notebook on relativistic mechanics in Fangyan, trying to design a simple building with just a few paths. She completely forgot that she burned her hand with the cigarette butt before she came to her senses.

"I fucking swear..."

……

……

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9/21—14:41
The fire escape in the auditorium of Binhai No. 6 Middle School's arts performance hall is hidden and cramped, with many costumes and performance props piled up there.

Some students sneak here to smoke, especially the seniors of high school. The pressure on seniors of key provincial high schools starts at ten million megapascals.

Given that many senior high school students are actually over 18 years old, even top-tier high schools don't have very strict controls, leaving them in a gray area of ​​verbal warnings without actual punishment.

Counterintuitively, good students are unlikely to smoke, but it's almost impossible for a good student not to smoke.

Under the pressure of preparing for exams around the clock, the fire escape in the auditorium has become the last refuge for students who have no entertainment activities.

Among the dozen or so students smoking, almost all were senior high school students. The smoke in the air was filled with a kind of violent anxiety. The one under the most pressure was Fang Yan, a junior high school student. He was on standby and there was a high probability that he would have to kill the fake people again that night.

Fang Yan did the math and realized that he had indeed enlisted on the evening of September 11th at around 7 PM. If he were to be promoted to private first class before 7 PM tonight, it would indeed be within ten days.

What exactly is the mission? Two hours to complete it, rush to the designated location and take out the designated fake mascot?
Strangely, Fang Yan discovered that the pseudo-human's intelligence was in no way inferior to that of a human. To be honest, it was a bit difficult to deal with. Was it incubated in a petri dish by the Soul-Sucking Lord, or was it just genetic recombination, or perhaps both? It's also possible that some of it came from some strange power within the distorted spacetime.

It's pretty weird anyway.

There is a phenomenon called pareidolia, in which the brain assigns a real meaning to the outside world (a picture or a sound), but it is just a coincidence, and this "meaning" does not actually exist.

It seems that modern people all have a mysterious code in their genes that makes them think of random, unfamiliar images as human faces.

Some say that during a certain historical period, human ancestors were frequently threatened, tortured, or dominated by some humanoid beings, resulting in genetic memory that manifested as biological instincts like fear of heights, hunger, and sexual desire. Fang Yan pondered this, suggesting that it was very likely due to the pseudo-humans; Hou Yi, Fu Xi, and their group had been manipulated by them.

If what the lieutenant said is true, and the history of the universe is a multi-layered, nested vector, then damn it, modern people could be future people. But Fang Yan doesn't know if that's true or not; it's just pure speculation.

There are still countless mysteries surrounding the Salvation Army, the Old Gods' Church, and the Soul Eaters.

"Are menthol cigarettes strong?"

Wang Ying, inside the somewhat eerie fire escape marked by the EXIT emergency exit sign, spotted Fang Yan, whom she had met briefly at the convenience store, and struck up a conversation with him.

Fang Yan didn't understand, but he saw that the female doctor was smoking this, so he bought a pack himself. It was impossible not to be under pressure when he was going to kill someone that night. Before dealing with Bai Zhe, he did a lot of mental preparation and took two sips of the cheap industrial liquor that his grandfather often drank.

(Minors are prohibited from drinking alcohol. Do not imitate this behavior.)

"I don't know either. I don't actually smoke. I just saw a woman doing it."

"This is boring, this is interesting."

"is it?"

Fang Yan took a Hongtashan cigarette, tried it, and found that it did relieve more anxiety. He knew he wouldn't get addicted; it was purely for medicinal purposes.

Are you in the fast-paced or slow-paced class?

Wang Ying asked this question.

"What... is there a hierarchy of contempt?"

Fang Yan remained silent, reading his instantaneous thoughts. He seemed to have no ill intentions, just a lack of speech. In fact, it didn't matter to him if he dropped out of school now; he could just take the college entrance exam and get whatever score he wanted, depending on his mood. With the server's support, his academic level was ahead of the entire era.

I'm hiding in school to avoid being exposed to algorithms, and I'll continue studying for two more years. I'll probably go to university too, and I must choose a major with lots of pretty girls.

It can only read immediate thoughts, which Fang Yan finds inconvenient at the moment. However, directly extracting and modifying memories requires high-powered equipment, which standard base stations cannot do.

"Of course not. It's just that I'm not advocating the uselessness of studying in slow classes. It's just that most people's talents are only suitable for sunset majors. High-value niche majors require certain social resources to pave the way for them to operate. As for truly good schools and good majors, the scores are too high. Most people can't get that many. If you don't have the mind of a scientist or a near-scientist, my suggestion is to just give up and go straight into the entertainment industry after high school. You can avoid four years of detours and directly serve the second generation."

"Damn, you really know your stuff."

Fang Yan's instantaneous thought process is a bit long; this senior really understands.

Wang Ying simply shook her head.

"That's the truth. You estimate a perfect score, but someone else has 100% ownership. The clown is finished. I just joined some groups. The members are from No. 6 Middle School, and other schools in the city. You know, the kind of groups that share chat logs, websites, and scarce resources. I personally prefer to watch some 3D stuff. Anyway, it's all fantasy, so I might as well choose to fantasize about explosive body proportions that don't exist in reality. These groups are almost all run by one person, a guy named Luo Di from No. 11 Middle School. He's also a senior in high school. This guy is pretty stupid, but sometimes he posts some pretty serious content, like guesses about college entrance exam questions, major selection, life planning, and so on. That's what I heard from him."

"Brilliant."

Fang Yan seemed to be deep in thought.

(End of this chapter)