Are you human?

The boy was sitting on the bookshelf, and the books on the upper two floors had just been cleared to the floor by him, and the vacant space was just enough for him to dangle his feet.

The speed of turning the pages was a bit slow, his brows were slightly frowned, and his fingers were slowly slid across the pages line by line, making rustling sounds, and he was also chanting words, as if it was a bit difficult to read the words.

"Alice... well, Alice, she..."

"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo..."

"Stop arguing."

"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo."

The mechanical bird persisted in popping up six times before it remained silent. The boy glanced at the source of the sound unhappily, then lowered his head, not knowing where he had just read.

He sat quietly for a while, his hair drooping, his feet unwilling to shake, the book was spread out on his lap, the sun was shining on half of the book, and the yellowed pages and slightly curled corners could be seen.

As if lifeless, he remained motionless until the wooden ceiling shook and a few crumbs fell from his black hair before he raised his head.

"Understood, sir." He jumped off the bookshelf, and because he couldn't stand firmly, he sat on the ground, waved his hand, and knocked over the folded books again, "I'm already working on it."

No one answered, as if the movement just now was an illusion.

The boy took a step forward, the floor creaked and the foot was retracted, he twisted his ankle, bent down to take off the small leather shoe, and threw it aside.

He tiptoed towards the kitchen. The hot water had actually boiled for a while, but he deliberately ignored it, picked out a set of cups from the cupboard, and casually brewed tea bags, doing whatever he wanted shaking his head.

——Until the hot water splashed on his arm, he was so frightened that he threw the kettle, and the hot water dripped all over the ground, he jumped to avoid it.

That piece of skin quickly became red and swollen, with tingling pain, which made him a little uncomfortable, but he bit his lip and squinted at it, as if he was observing something strange.

But nothing happened, it just turned red and left a little water stain.

He felt a little bored, and suddenly thought of something, and moved his mouth there.

Well, it's a little cold, so it's the feeling of burns.

The water on the ground had lost the high temperature just now. He didn't know how much heat the lid of the teapot could lock, so he quickly picked up the tray and went upstairs.

The door of the only room on the second floor is half-closed, and through the exposed gap, you can see a lot of machines glowing green. Colorful threads are intertwined together, seemingly random, but in fact they are precisely connected.

On a whim, the boy put the afternoon tea by the door, leaned on the door frame and poked his head inside.

"Scallion, what are you doing?"

The electronic voice came from nowhere, it was hoarse and weird, and the boy named Congcong took a step back in fright, and pretended to pick up the tray.

"Sir, I brought the afternoon tea."

"It's a quarter past six."

"Next time, sir, next time I will definitely keep the time." He paused, "I'm studying hard, human books are so difficult to understand."

Congcong drew circles on the ground with her feet, the carpet was scratched and then smoothed back.

"Put it at the door."

The door closed in front of him, Congcong tilted his head, put down the afternoon tea, walked down the steps, and slid down the handrail restlessly after only two steps.

He reached the bottom with a whimper, but he was still unskilled, and fell on the soft cushion under the stairs again.

Hiss, my butt hurts.

Congcong rubbed her tailbone and wanted to get up, moved her buttocks and lay lazily on the soft cushion, lifted her two straight thin legs, and touched the red rope of her right ankle with her left foot.

With the sunlight, he could see the blue blood vessels under the skin, winding and winding all over his body.

He is a highly simulated robot.

To what extent is it simulated?It’s just that sometimes even he himself thinks that he is a real person. He will be in pain, tired, hungry, lazy, and bored. He also has a heart with a stable beating frequency. My husband warned him that this place is like his Like the gate of life, if it stops, he will "die".

Yes, a fragile object like him is called a robot.

Human beings like Mr. are creatures higher than him. They can rewrite their own DNA codes, store and retrieve memories, and replace unsatisfactory organs and nerves.

They are human beings, and they can live as long as they want.

The bells on the red rope made a slight clanging sound, which echoed in the empty room.

Congcong closed her eyes and thought, but this is not too important. After all, there are only two "people" left in this world, he and her husband. The passage of time is long and indifferent to them. No one threatens their lives. As long as the husband still wants to fix himself.

And he will serve Mr. for the rest of his life until he gets tired and dies, that is the end of his life.

However, the husband said that if one day he gave him a name, not something that he chose casually, but something like his name, he would be free.

Sir...what's your name?

Congcong recalled the day when he was first activated, the mechanical arm handed out a piece of parchment, with three unfamiliar characters written on it, the horrible hoarse voice was accompanied by an unpleasant electric sound, the person who taught him those three characters pronunciation.

"Fu, Lian, Yu."

While he was reading along, he touched the mechanical arm secretly, the cold touch made people shiver.

Because he didn't follow along with the reading, the mechanical arm stopped and seemed to be staring at him, making his palms sweat.

The name was difficult to read and remember, so he called him "Sir", putting a distance between the two of them in a well-mannered manner.

The sun has already started to go west, and Congcong no longer thinks about it. A carp stood up and ran outside barefoot. There are small flowers and green onions he planted outside, and there is a piece of wet and soft land. You can roll around on it.

There is a dark window directly above the land, which is the husband's room. He can't see what it looks like, and he doesn't want to see it. It's just a bunch of boring machines anyway.

He ran around with a large watering pot, watering the flowers and green onions. The two plants were not very harmonious together, but what did it matter, anyway, the husband didn't care about him, he could do whatever he wanted.

The wind lifted the hair on his forehead, his eyes were bent, and he smiled comfortably.

The water droplets mixed with the mud made his feet dirty, but made his skin whiter. He suddenly stopped and thought about a strange question.

—— Isn’t sir mechanized? Why do you still have afternoon tea?Would the parts break down faster if he drank the tea?

He looked up and realized that he was actually a real robot. Seeing that there was still a pot of water in his hand, he tilted his head and poured it on his own head.

The stream of water coming out of the shower head was small, but enough to wet his hair and make him unable to open his eyes. His short-sleeved shorts were also soaked, and the white cloth stuck to his body, covering his waist, buttocks, There is also the bright red on the chest, which is showing through.

The young man didn't know what it means to be ashamed. Instead, he went to connect the water pipe, held the mouth of the water pipe with his hand, and made it rain for himself. He accidentally drank a few sips.

The water had no taste, but it tasted better than the tea he had secretly drank before, and worse than the sparkling water that his husband forbade him to drink.

After playing for a while, he got tired and lay down on the bench in the garden, basking in the scarlet sunset.

There is no wind, no sound, the world is too quiet, but he is carefree.

There was muffled laughter from the window on the second floor, but the room was well insulated and the people below couldn't hear it.

The man's line of sight outlines the body of the young man on the bench inch by inch, and he has a panoramic view of the beautiful scenery. He takes a sip of tea, and the cup is put back on the cup holder, making a brisk jingle sound.

A message box appeared in front of him, it was a social account with the nickname "Cong Cong found out that I am not a little robot today", and then published a new blog post, only two simple words, no.

With a whoosh, the news was sent out, and there were 6000 million page views in an instant, and the comment data increased wildly.

He hummed from his nasal cavity, and with a wave of his hand, the dialog box disappeared.

In this highly informatized era, artificial intelligence will filter the content that may be of interest to the individual, and update it in the individual terminal in real time, and such an account with no beginning and no end, has [-] million fans, and more than [-] million fans. One out of every [-] people is paying close attention to when this little fool named "Scallion" will know that he is not a robot.

It's unnervingly boring.

While enjoying the pleasant time of afternoon tea, the machine over there made an annoying commotion and smoke burst into the sky. Fu Lianyu rolled his eyes and smashed the cup in his hand. Instead of extinguishing it, another machine went into the air. The water was poured, the automatic fire extinguisher was triggered, there was a lot of foam, and errors were displayed on a series of computers.

— Failed again.

In fact, it's not that he doesn't want to get out of this room, it's just that he is too broken, and he doesn't want Congcong to see him like this before he is completely repaired.

Arms and legs are missing, the only skin is almost completely necrotic, unable to walk freely, even the vocal cords are completely destroyed, the so-called afternoon tea is just a bad restorative, he got a big one from the black market Heap barely prevented his body from further deteriorating.

He also gave him a reason to let Congcong go upstairs every day.

He raised his finger with difficulty and tapped on the window glass, pretending that he was touching the other party, ignoring the mess behind him, and manipulating the mechanical arm to bring a glass jar.

There is a blue butterfly in the jar. Small animals, even in the market outside, are mostly made of electronics, and this one is the one he bought before he fled here with Congcong. Small gift, the real deal.

He reluctantly hooked the corner of his mouth, opened the bottle cap, and let the butterfly fly out.

Congcong was still dozing off, but suddenly caught something flying past his eyes, he stood on the chair in surprise, stretched out his hand to flap the blue butterfly with wings, and fell into the mud in excitement.

He got up with his hands on his hands and tried to stretch his arms, but the butterfly flew higher and higher, flickering in the setting sun.

gone.

He wasn't sad either, he just got up and ran back to the house.

From Fu Lianyu's height, he could still see the butterfly fluttering its wings, looking for a way out, but it flew farther and farther. After a flutter of the wings, a small flame rose from the tip of the wings, and it burned up in an instant.

And Congcong ran out wearing big blue curtains, imitating butterflies flopping around in the garden, giggling, and walking lightly.

The setting sun sank, and the surroundings became dark. Fu Lianyu looked away and said in a deep voice, "It's getting dark."

The little blue butterfly flew back.

In this world, there are only him and Cong Cong, two people.