CAT Chapter 40: Endless Cycle (2)

Lin Si didn’t speak again, and the Marshal remained silent for a while before finally saying, “Let’s head back.”

Lucia received the order, and the spaceship smoothly turned around, gradually moving away from the massive void that had been annihilated by the antimatter weapon in the dust.

After a while, Mr. Lambert went to find the Colonel to discuss some practical issues with the device and left the control room.

The Marshal looked out the window and spoke, “I still don’t understand why you insist on disagreeing.”

“I just think we should have a bottom line,” Lin Si replied.

“You said the same thing before,” the Marshal continued. “Over a decade ago, another group of scientists aboard the spaceship already developed a method of integrating human tissue and machinery… There was no need to create a whole new project like the neural chip project, but it was also rejected during a discussion.”

Lin Si said, “I didn’t know about that.”

The Marshal replied, “You weren’t thawed back then.”

“Human tissue?” Lin Si thought for a moment. “Are you talking about live tissue?”

“The bodies in Zone 9 sometimes die,” the Marshal said. “I’ve seen the experiment plan. If you combine some tissue with machinery, it would have some very miraculous effects. In the end, that group made some results, but unfortunately, it was opposed by too many people, and it was never put into use.”

“If it were me, I would oppose it as well,” Lin Si said. “If this technology developed further, it would eventually face huge ethical issues.”

The Marshal sneered, “So you don’t think your genetic modification project faces the same issues?”

“I don’t think they are the same in nature,” Lin Si said. “You seem regretful that that project was shelved, but you are still firmly against my genetic modification project.”

“I don’t think they are the same either,” the Marshal said coldly. “Once your modified bodies grow in number, they’ll form groups. If someone leads them, it could breed separatism. But we can freely control machines, no matter whether they contain human tissue or not.”

The atmosphere between the two of them, which had softened for a few minutes, immediately became tense again.

But it seemed like neither of them cared enough to argue about the nature of “Limitless” technology anymore—such arguments never led anywhere and only resulted in sarcasm.

“You want your army to progress, but at the same time, you reject their progress out of suspicion,” Lin Si frowned and said faintly. “Sometimes, I think you’re being contradictory, and there must be some hidden reason behind this contradiction.”

“You should see a psychologist,” the Marshal responded coldly.

Lin Si narrowed his eyes and looked at the Marshal.

The Marshal must have been prepared for potential dangers aboard the spaceship, but why was he so wary of his own soldiers? Was it because he believed the threat came from Zone 3? Why?

But if that were the case, he wouldn’t receive any information from the Marshal—military forces always kept secrets.

Lin Si shifted the topic and brought up an unexpected question.

“Marshal, I’ve always had one question,” Lin Si said. “Why is Ling Yi on the spaceship?”

The Marshal looked at him deeply for a moment and then replied, “Ling Ning volunteered to leave the spaceship to accompany his wife, giving up the spot for their son. Our friendship has lasted over 20 years, so I couldn’t refuse.”

“Mr. Ling and Ye Selin gave up two spots,” Lin Si said flatly, though with a hint of pressure in his tone. “But Ling Jing didn’t come.”

“The launch time was tight! It was already difficult to find Ling Yi and get him onto the ship,” the Marshal’s voice rose slightly. “And you think your spot came out of nowhere?”

“I believe it did,” Lin Si looked directly at the Marshal, refusing to back down. “Did I voluntarily board the spaceship?”

“When will you finally understand what it means to put the greater good first?” The Marshal’s tone became almost severe.

“I’ll never understand,” Lin Si’s chest rose and fell with emotion. “At that time, there were still 500 million people alive on Earth. What exactly was the ‘greater good’ then?”

“Even if we survive this disaster, Earth is no longer a place where humanity can live. We must leave!” the Marshal said.

“Our current planet is also not suitable for human life. Why don’t you advocate for leaving?” Lin Si replied. “—So you’re contradicting yourself. You take two different attitudes toward two similar situations, and that’s strange.”

He paused for a moment before continuing, “I don’t know if your decision is right or wrong… I just can’t accept that, knowing the vaccine will be completed soon, we couldn’t stay on Earth a little longer. Why not leave some hope for Earth? I know the wormhole activity that day was perfect for a jump, but…”

His tone wasn’t as aggressive as it was at the start, and it softened somewhat, even becoming momentarily speechless. After a pause, he continued, “… Is it really that hard to wait a few more years?”

He stared into the Marshal’s eyes and asked the question again.

At that moment, in the Marshal’s eyes, he saw his own reflection—this reflection overlapping with the young doctor from when the Voyager first launched.

Even after all these years, he still couldn’t forgive the spaceship, nor could he forgive himself.

And once again, this question went unanswered.

The Marshal’s lips moved, but in the end, he only said one sentence:,“The situation at the time was very complicated, and we didn’t make the most perfect decision.”

Lin Si shook his head. “You’ve always been hiding something. What else is there that I don’t know?”

The Marshal didn’t answer, but patted him on the shoulder. “Get some rest.”

**

Ling Yi, Svenya, Adelaide, and a few engineers were playing Texas Hold’em, and surprisingly, Tang Ning, who had just returned from Zone 1, joined them. The game originated hundreds of years ago in the American West, and it’s a game that tests participants’ psychological fortitude and strategic ability. It’s hard to win using just probability or mathematical models, but even so, Tang Ning had a better chance of winning. Adelaide was second, after all, his expertise as a psychologist came in handy for this kind of game.

So, when Zheng Shu entered the room, after witnessing a large-scale brawl last time, he now found himself in the middle of a large-scale offline gambling scene.

Zheng Shu, “…”

He joined the table.

“Set an example! Boss, where’s your example?” the engineer shouted.

“I think it’s necessary for you to experience how unpleasant these games can get,” Zheng Shu’s smile sent a shiver down their spines. “Then, you’ll focus on your work.”

Zheng Shu was right.

After a few rounds, more than half of the chips in the pot somehow ended up in Zheng Shu’s hands.

Adelaide folded three times in a row and sighed, “When we were younger, we tried a bit of everything, even this. Zheng-ge has never lost at this kind of thing.”

Ling Yi, curious, asked, “Does Lin Si play too?”

“He plays,” Adelaide replied, “but he never actually participates in the game.”

Ling Yi asked, “So how does he play?”

Before Adelaide could answer, the door opened again, and Lin Si had returned.

He glanced around the room, then looked carefully at the chips in the pot.

“No-limit?” He raised an eyebrow. “You guys are good at this.”

“Come on,” Adelaide waved excitedly at him.

Lin Si hummed, raised his knuckles, and tapped the light switch three times. Immediately, the room’s lighting dimmed by three levels, becoming slightly darker.

He walked over to the engineer, who had lost the last round and was now assigned to deal the cards. Lin Si said indifferently, “I’ll deal.”

The engineer, feeling pardoned, happily sat back down by the table.

The dim light gave Lin Si’s white shirt an ambiguous sheen, and the silver bracelet on his wrist reflected a glint, further adding to the effect. Despite this, his expression remained as impassive as ever, his demeanor cold, with only the swift movements of his hands dazzling the others.

Ling Yi couldn’t take his eyes off Lin Si’s elegant fingers as they shuffled the cards with such ease.

Adelaide, comfortably leaning back in the semi-dark room, sighed in contentment, “This is the feeling—when Lin Si shuffles the cards, it’s like you’re sitting in the highest-class casino in Las Vegas, ready to bet anything at any moment.”

Lin Si raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s your bet?”

“Sweetener.” Adelaide, suddenly lacking in confidence, added, “We don’t actually have money to bet.”

It was the latest creation from Zone 2—powders that made nutrient solutions taste better, with flavors like grape, tomato, and so on.

Because the nutrient solution was so unpleasant, these powders were in high demand.

“So, boss, let us have a bit of that,” the young engineer shouted. “Why do you need so much sweetener?”

Zheng Shu thought for a moment. “I could give some to Tang Ning… I remember you like strawberries, right?”

Tang Ning didn’t respond.

An artificial intelligence named Vivian, dressed in a red princess gown, appeared out of nowhere and said, “Tang Ning likes grapes!”

Zheng Shu smiled apologetically. “I must have remembered wrong.”

Adelaide cleverly changed the subject and casually asked, “LingLing, what flavor do you like?”

“I don’t know…” Ling Yi thought for a moment. “They all taste good.”

“You’re so easy to please, little cutie,” Adelaide praised Ling Yi.

Svenya chimed in, “But LingLing lost a lot earlier. Lin, I think you need to teach him how to play a good hand.”

“Mm,” Lin Si replied indifferently, “It doesn’t matter if he loses. I can make sweetener in my lab, any flavor you want.”

“Is that so!” Svenya exclaimed jealously.

Ling Yi just smiled without saying anything.

—So, as long as Lin Si was around, there was nothing to fear.

Lin Si looked at Ling Yi’s bright, smiling eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Adelaide’s gaze moved between Lin Si and Ling Yi, intrigued, and clicked his tongue.