CAT Chapter 35: Second Law of Thermodynamics (4)

“I am not biased against them,” the Marshal’s tone softened slightly, “but such a protective measure is necessary. All powerful weapons should have restrictions because accidents can happen every day.”

“But they were your subordinates before they were modified. You have reasons to suspect me, but do you have to be so suspicious of your own soldiers?” Lin Si furrowed his brow. “Then I suggest you see a psychologist.”

Lin Si was someone who often spoke sharply when he was in a bad mood, and the Marshal was now choked by Lin Si’s remark about seeing a psychologist.

But the Marshal also knew that Lin Si was not someone who would easily change his mind, so he couldn’t afford to lose his temper too quickly.

“Until the conspiracy is exposed, no one can be trusted completely,” the Marshal said.

“Mm,” Lin Si looked directly into his eyes. “You’ve always had tight control over the military. Every corner has real-time surveillance, and currently, only the two hundred people from ‘Limitless’ are beyond your control.”

His gaze was cold, and his voice calm, “Do you think the dangerous individual is from Zone 9? Why?”

The Marshal said, “The biggest threat on this ship is you!”

Lin Si smiled faintly and curved his lips, “I’m honored.”

The Marshal, holding the project plan for the chip, said coldly, “No matter what, this function must be implemented. It’s not a request, it’s an order.”

“I have the right to disobey unreasonable orders,” Lin Si retorted.

“One more thing, the Marshal’s signature is needed.” A staff member from Zone 2 smiled as they handed a form to Ling Yi.

“Thank you.” Ling Yi said cheerfully.

He walked up to the Marshal’s office on the top floor of Zone 3, just as he was about to knock, but heard arguing inside.

The Marshal’s office had excellent soundproofing, but Ling Yi’s hearing was exceptional. Additionally, the people inside were speaking loudly, so he could hear the raised voices through the gap in the door. It sounded like the Marshal was angry.

Ling Yi felt it was wrong to listen to him speak when others didn’t know, so he planned to leave for a while. But suddenly, Lin Si’s voice came through the door!

“If you really want to restrict them, you can use another method,” Lin Si’s voice was cold. “But I will never add that function to the chip. No one’s life should be threatened by such suspicion. Please respect their human rights.”

“Human rights only exist in times of peace!” The Marshal raised his voice.

“Are we not in peace right now?”

“We are in a period of development!” The Marshal knocked on the table. “You know well, we have potential dangers! We can’t afford any exploitable flaws!”

“And you,” the Marshal continued, “You, with your paranoia, are the biggest flaw!”

Lin Si seemed to chuckle.

The Marshal’s tone turned serious. “Let me put it another way! Even in times of peace, there are no human rights in the military. Lin Si, you’re too naive.”

He paused before continuing, “You were well-educated, grew up in a protected city, attended school, and never left the lab—You don’t know how cruel war is! To prevent even worse things from happening, we must do some things that are not good.”

“Sorry, Marshal,” Ling Yi heard Lin Si’s voice, calm and distant. “I may not have received the kind of ‘good’ education you’re talking about, but I’ve experienced war. My parents died from direct radiation from thermonuclear weapons. When I was ten, I survived outside the city with the lowest quality gene therapy.”

Ling Yi stared at the door, a little stunned.

This was something Lin Si had never mentioned before.

Lin Si rarely recalled the past, and when he did, it was usually with Zheng Shu or Adelaide, talking about memories from their school days. From those conversations, Ling Yi could piece together bits and pieces of a past full of sunshine and doves.

So Ling Yi thought that was the entirety of Lin Si’s past.

But it seemed that before all that, there was something deeply buried.

He took a slow breath, raised his hand to knock, but hesitated whether to actually do it.

In this moment of hesitation, the Marshal’s voice came again, “I’m sorry.”

The Marshal continued, “You’re sharp, but also completely unreasonable. I can’t understand what you’re holding onto. I only insist on my demands.”

“Then you can understand it as me insisting on opposing you,” Lin Si said coldly, “I disagree. You can have Zheng Shu install a program in the skeleton to disable it instantly, but I won’t implant a chip into someone’s brain.”

The Marshal seemed to realize that communicating with Lin Si was ineffective— in fact, their communication had never been effective.

“I’ll think about it.” He made a slight concession.

After that, there was a long silence in the room.

Ling Yi gently knocked on the door.

“Come in,” the Marshal said.

Ling Yi walked in holding the form. “Good afternoon, Marshal.”

“Mm,” the Marshal’s tone was much softer than before. “Hello, little one.”

“I’m applying for a room in Zone 3. I need your signature,” Ling Yi said, winking at Lin Si and standing in front of the Marshal’s desk.

“They’ve grown up so much,” the Marshal said casually, signing the form. “Done.”

“Thank you, Marshal.” Ling Yi took the form and thanked him.

“If you have no other matters,” Lin Si said lightly, “We’ll leave now.”

The Marshal, flustered, waved them off.

Lin Si walked out of the office with Ling Yi.

Lin Si saw that Ling Yi’s room application had been completed and said, “Let’s go set up your new room?”

Ling Yi nodded.

Ling Yi’s room was arranged in the “Limitless” living area, close to both the Colonel and Svenya. Fortunately, it was a room with a view of the porthole, and as soon as he looked up, he could see the vast starry sea outside.

Nebulas like delicate veils floated in the sea of stars, slowly moving and expanding. The stars were like diamonds scattered throughout, softly shimmering with brilliant light.

After setting up his belongings and making the bed, Ling Yi turned off the light and climbed under the covers.

“Sleeping here tonight?” Lin Si asked.

“You sleep here too,” Ling Yi said.

Lin Si hummed.

Ling Yi gazed at the starry sea, hundreds of light-years away, the starlight shining faintly through the porthole, feeling light as though he were sleeping in the starry sea.

He felt Lin Si come over and wrap his arm around him.

Lin Si noticed he hadn’t spoken for a long time and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I heard you talking to the Marshal today,” Ling Yi thought for a moment and then spoke.

“Hmm,” Lin Si said, “The Marshal always has some unrealistic ideas.”

“I also heard you mention things from the past…” Ling Yi’s voice was somewhat subdued. “The war, your parents, those things…”

“It’s fake,” Lin Si said. “Otherwise, how would I deal with the Marshal?”

Ling Yi doubted, “Really?”

“Hmm… I obviously couldn’t have been without a good education,” Lin Si continued. “My family was decent, so my childhood was pretty happy. Later, the war happened unexpectedly… My parents did die in the war. There was a time when it was quite hard for me, out there in the wilderness— but it got better after that.”

But Ling Yi already knew from books and other people’s accounts what the state of Earth had been like at that time.

Frequent wars were occurring all over the world, thermonuclear weapons were taking countless lives every day, and the scarce resources couldn’t support anything outside of a few giant cities. Outside the cities, there was no electricity, no clean water, and the soil could not grow crops— not only because of heavy contamination in the soil, but because thick clouds of dust blocked the sunlight. The seedlings, pale from lack of light, were so weak they could only survive for a few hours.

Even more frightening was radiation pollution— apart from a few cities with adequate protection measures, other places were more or less affected. However, the cumulative radiation dust, day after day, could be deadly.

In just a few decades, Earth’s population had been reduced from billions to hundreds of millions.

Lin Si’s tone was very casual, but Ling Yi knew that the war, death, and leaving the cities couldn’t possibly be as lighthearted as Lin Si made them seem!

— He suddenly felt very sad. Why, after Lin Si had experienced all of these cruel things, had he only come to be by his side now?

“Lin Si.” He called softly.

“Hmm?” Lin Si responded.

“When will I become better?” He gazed at the distant stars. “How much do I have to grow in order to protect you?”

Lin Si asked, “Aren’t you protecting me now?”

“No…” Ling Yi tried to organize his words, “It’s that kind of protection… When you’re sad, I want to be by your side, share some of your sadness, or make you feel better.”

He thought for a moment before seriously complaining, “But I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know where to learn, and I don’t know how to comfort you because I’ve never seen those things, I can’t even remember them, and you won’t let me know about those bad things.”

“Because what you need to do now is to grow up well, and I’ll protect you,” Lin Si’s voice carried a soft, warm tone. “Bethy once said, you can’t plant lilies on an asphalt road, so there are many things I haven’t taught you. I hope you understand.”

“I understand.” Ling Yi said.

— He knew, no matter what, Lin Si was always good to him.

But, but—

“But you’re not like that.” He suddenly said this.

“Hmm?” Lin Si responded.

“You weren’t protected as you grew up, and you went through painful things, but you’re still so good, you haven’t turned bad at all.”

“Hmm…” Lin Si answered. “Are you saying I’m the lily on the asphalt road?”

“No.” Ling Yi shook his head.

Compared to Lin Si’s past, whether it was before he grew up or the later virus incident, the asphalt road seemed too beautiful. What was it? It wasn’t an asphalt road at all. It was clearly a swamp mixed with blood.

And Lin Si, of course, was not some pure white lily.

“You’re a rose…” Ling Yi said.

“…Why?” Lin Si asked.

“I read a fairytale yesterday,” Ling Yi said seriously, “The rose in it was beautiful because it was dyed red with the fresh blood of a heart.”

“Blood doesn’t dye petals in chemistry,” Lin Si replied coldly.

Ling Yi snorted, hugged Lin Si’s waist, and buried his head in his chest, preparing to sleep.

He dreamt.

He rarely dreamt.

But for some reason, today was different.

Ling Yi looked around. He was standing in a pile of ruins, the sky was very gloomy, with a large mass of gray clouds overhead, and the air was polluted.

He felt that something was waiting for him in the depths of the ruins, so he began to run, first lightly jogging, then eventually sprinting. The debris from buildings was rough and sharp, but he didn’t feel any pain.

He kept running, running, and then, suddenly, something deep inside him was touched, and he saw a figure standing on the distant horizon.

It was thin, wearing white, and staring up at the cloudy sky.

At that moment, Ling Yi suddenly felt an overwhelming pain and loneliness.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

I’m late… I’m sorry, I…

The latter part of the sentence stuck in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, like he had reached the edge of his vocabulary.

I…

Lin Si felt Ling Yi’s arms around him suddenly tighten. He looked at Ling Yi’s sleeping face under the light of the stars, confirming he was only dreaming, and gently patted his back to comfort him.

After Ling Yi calmed down, Lin Si looked up at the starry sky outside the porthole.

A vast nebula was accumulating in the center, beautiful yet silent.

Sometimes, Lin Si would feel that after all these years, he was still like he was ten years ago, standing in the ruins, looking up at the cloudy sky.

The only difference was, perhaps, that now, he had a warm little one in his arms to rely on.