Miles Carter was already regretting his choice. This guy was a nightmare.
Fresh out of college, he had begged and groveled his way into a major media outlet, but two months in, he still hadn't produced a single story anyone cared about. He could feel the danger from the increasingly strange looks from his colleagues and the growing impatience in his editor's voice.
On his way back from yet another fruitless interview, he passed a hospital and witnessed a textbook car accident. He whipped out his camera, and for a moment, he felt like screaming, "Thank God!"
But everything that followed went against his wishes.
The damn cop was a fifty-year-old man who could run like a rabbit, arriving on the scene instantly to maintain order. So much for "Police Missing in Action During Downtown Crash."
The onlookers were equally disappointing. They dispersed the moment the police said a few words. The cab driver obediently put up a warning sign far away. There went his "Chaotic Crowd Obstructs Ambulance for Eight Minutes" angle.
The hospital was completely uncooperative. The medical team arrived in under five minutes, and the lead doctor was drenched in sweat from running. If Miles put a picture like that on the front page, the editor would tear him a new one. "Hospital Neglects Crash Victim at its Doorstep" was off the table.
Even the driver who caused the crash was too damn honest. After mistakenly hitting the gas and driving a distance, he stopped and walked back to cooperate with the police. That killed any chance of a story about a "Hit-and-Run Driver Disappears."
Having wasted so much time at the crash site with nothing to show for it, Miles felt a deep-seated frustration. He silently cursed everyone's ancestors, but then his eyes lit up. He finally found his breakthrough.
While everyone else was focused on the young mother and child on the stretcher, the young man who had saved them quietly walked to the corner of the street. Miles quickly snapped a few photos and followed him.
And that's when he began to regret his choice again and again.
"Sir, excuse me, can I bother you for a moment?" "Sir... what's your name?" "Wait... sir... please wait..."
Miles jogged along, keeping pace with Ethan Cole. With a relentless and indignant tone, he tried again: "Sir... you left right after saving them. Is there a reason why?"
"...Sir, saving a life without seeking a reward is a great deed, but you saw it yourself. Neither the mother and daughter you saved, nor the driver who avoided a major accident, nor the bystanders even cared if you stayed or left..."
"...The decay of modern morality is caused by such selfishness and the indifference of the majority..."
"Sir, your choice shows you are a person of great character. Don't you have anything to say about this bad social trend?"
From the moment Miles caught up, no matter what he said, the young man beside him seemed to be having a conversation with some unknown presence in his mind. His expression kept changing, as if his mind was a million miles away. He gave Miles no answer at all.
After walking two blocks, Miles saw the young man flag down a taxi. He couldn't stand the one-sided silence anymore.
"Sir, no matter what, you just saved two people. Even if you don't want a reward, your clothes are ripped. You should at least get some compensation, right? Besides, you made so many dangerous moves because of a runaway car. Isn't it only right to get a checkup at the hospital?"
"Just nod, and I'll take you to the driver. As long as you agree to cooperate with my report, I guarantee I'll get you a good chunk of cash..."
"Okay, okay, wait a minute... driver, wait up..."
Seeing the young man open the taxi door, Miles quickly took out his wallet. "This is my business card. Please take it. If you change your mind, feel free to call me anytime..."
Miles watched nervously as Ethan Cole, who had finally taken the card, hesitated for a moment before slowly putting it in his pocket.
"Fuck..."
Watching the taxi slowly drive out of sight, Miles spit on the ground. It looked like his stories about "Man Saves Lives, Gets No Compensation for Damaged Clothes" and "Car Crash Hero Gets No Money for Checkup" were dead ends.
"Whatever. What a waste of a good story. I'll just write something plain."
He picked a few photos of the young man leaving, then pulled his laptop out of his bag, sat on the curb, and typed out a long, bolded title: "Good Samaritan Disappears After Saving Mother and Daughter."
"What the hell is wrong with that lunatic?"
After the accident, QA9677 had vanished as suddenly as he'd appeared. After the unbelievable experience and the inhuman torture, Ethan Cole just wanted to go home and sleep, even if it meant being haunted by nightmares.
He finally got rid of the nosy reporter and gave the driver his home address, sinking back into the seat. He glanced at the business card the reporter had shoved into his hand, cursed, and reached for the window button.
"Put that away. That monkey might be useful in the future."
Just as he was about to toss the card out the window, QA9677's familiar voice rang in his ear.
Fuck, is he ever going to leave me alone? I wasn't dreaming? This lunatic is real?
"Oh? Looks like you need another reminder... I need a little more soul energy anyway. Ready for another round of the Hell Tour?"
Snap! The familiar sound echoed.
Physical World: One instant. Spiritual World: 18 hours. The hell tour was over.
After personally experiencing a full hour each of the various "processes" described in certain religions, such as having his tongue cut out, eyes gouged, heart sliced open, bones scraped, and being boiled in oil...
"I was wrong! I'm so, so sorry! I'll never do it again... you're the master... you're the boss... whatever you say goes... please, just tell me what to do..."
Back in the real world, Ethan quickly pulled his arm back from the window and put the business card in his pocket. He pleaded in his mind with every obsequious word he could think of.
"Pathetic primal reflex. Pathetic stress tolerance. Fine, it's barely adequate," QA9677's voice echoed. "Alright, your little problem is solved. Now, should we talk about our agreement?"
Whatever you say...
Ethan Cole was fully compliant now.
"Your current abilities are far from what the plan requires. You need to attend some pre-job training based on the Sel Alliance's education system."
I'll study hard...
"The problem is, the first school is a bit far. For the next six days and thirteen hours, you need to prepare a mode of transportation for a little test run before your first official class."
A mode of transportation? Private cars and public transit would be a nightmare in Boston. A bicycle, maybe?
"No, you've misunderstood what 'far' means."
Out of the city? Daily flights would cost too much!
"A bit far means... well, in a unit you can understand, it's about 15 billion light-years from Earth."
FUCK... 15 billion light-years!
Faced with a truly astronomical number, Ethan Cole could only manage his favorite curse word.
And you call this "preparing a mode of transportation"? This is a spaceship! What's the speed of a rocket to the moon?
15 billion light-years...
With his basic knowledge of space, Ethan knew that even if he could get his hands on a vehicle, he and the ship would have disintegrated into atoms and protons by the time they got there.
"You're right. This primitive corner of the universe doesn't have a ready-made vehicle. But just like any monkey on Earth can start a fire with a stick, you just need to prepare the raw materials for your transport. I'll guide you in the assembly. Here's the list."
BRUKER 500MHz superconducting nuclear magnetic resonance machine, DAH rapid moisture analyzer, NY-300S bed unit ozone disinfector, high-frequency digital suspended DRX ray system...
Aren't these all hospital equipment?
"That's right. These are all things you've seen in the past 35 days. Even a monkey starting a fire would choose the right materials. Medical equipment uses some of the best materials on Earth, and it's relatively easy for you to acquire."
Easy to acquire? Medical equipment costs tens or hundreds of thousands! I couldn't get that much money by robbing, drug dealing, or kidnapping... no, not even by selling my liver, kidneys, and body!
Ethan Cole knew instantly that this was a problem he could never solve.
"That's the simplest problem. It can be solved with Earth's material allocation model. The soul energy from your recent spiritual adjustment was for exactly this."
What do you mean?
What... do you... me...
In an instant, Ethan Cole's brain—or spirit, or soul, or some part of him he couldn't comprehend—began to tremble. It wasn't pain, yet it was. It wasn't pleasure, yet it was. It wasn't disappointment, yet it was. It wasn't euphoria, yet it was. It was a sense of profound, intrinsic loss. Something precious was slipping away.
"That's the light of your soul, the fruit of your practice over the past 35 days," QA9677's voice explained in due time. "You can't understand it or use it yet. The spiritual space that solved your little problem earlier, and the energy that's now adjusting the material allocation model, are both this same energy."
That sounds so high-tech... But it solves a problem worth millions? Did he write an AI? Or a world-famous book? Or make a movie that moved humanity?
All the sci-fi tropes about how aliens make money flashed through Ethan's mind.
"Money is just a string of numbers in a bank. It's so primitive it's practically an open door. Why waste time on unnecessary steps?"
A dark premonition rose in Ethan's mind.
A few seconds later, Ding-ding-ding... ding-ding-ding... ding-ding-ding... The taxi was filled with the sound of incoming text messages.
Ethan slowly took out his phone.
"...Your card ending in 5018 received ¥8,198,612.17 on the 20th at 14:31. Balance: ¥8,198,325.48."
"...Your card ending in 4244 received ¥6,587,412.68 on the 20th at 14:32. Balance: ¥6,587,821.58."
"...Your card ending in 3167 received ¥9,654,785.25 on the 20th at 14:35. Balance: ¥9,658,745.26."
...
FUCK... THIS IS ILLEGAL! THIS IS ILLEGAL! THIS IS SO FUCKING ILLEGAL!
Eight consecutive messages, eight different bank cards. Each showing an income of at least six million, with an average of eight million. As if struck by lightning, Ethan stared at the seven-digit numbers on his screen. His jaw dropped, and he froze, motionless, in the back of the taxi.
"The calculation was a little off. There are seven other cards at home that don't send SMS notifications for deposits. The total should be ¥125,879,635.57." QA9677 added. "Don't worry. The material allocation adjustment for the entire Earth is very small, and the amount is minimal. Worst-case scenario, the banks will notice in 13 days and 8 hours. The investigation will start at least 57 days and 21 hours from now."
QA9677's explanation didn't comfort Ethan at all. His mind, now almost blank, had only one thought: ¥120 million...
How many death sentences would that be?
Ethan sat in the back of the taxi, dazed, his lips trembling, until QA9677's voice echoed in his mind.
"Looks like you need to calm down again. How about a trip to hell?"
18 hours! Hell tour!
Ethan shivered, instantly snapping out of his deep-seated fear of the law.
Right! I've already toured hell! What kind of death haven't I experienced hundreds of times? What if the police catch me? Will they really execute me for a few hours? What the hell do I have to be afraid of now?!
"Good. Keep that cooperative mindset. Here's your supplier and your first passenger. Let's get to work."
A business card and a video of a slightly pudgy middle-aged man suddenly appeared in Ethan Cole's mind. The video was extremely clear. The man walked through a crowded parking lot, taking out his key and approaching an Audi with its lights flashing. Ethan recognized the scene immediately—he'd seen it while leaving a hospital after yet another failed attempt to seek help over the past 35 days.
So I've been a walking surveillance camera since then...
Ethan looked at the business card. Name: Jonathan Fields Occupation: Pharmaceutical Sales Representative Company: SierraMed Devices Inc. (based in Denver, Colorado) Contact: (312) 555-XXXX
Pharmaceutical sales rep? Ethan understood what QA9677 meant by "supplier." But "the first passenger of the vehicle"... what did that mean?
"Based on the information stored in your brain, the quality of Earth's industrial products is not very reliable. And sales people are even less so."
That's true. Anyone living in the information age sees news of quality scandals and unethical sales practices every morning.
Wait... quality control?
Connecting his new mission with the absurd idea of building a spaceship out of medical equipment, a terrifying image flashed through Ethan's mind: A mad scientist in a dark, filthy room, throwing down his tools and staggering into a crude, shoddy "time machine." He pulls a lever, and the machine starts to spark and catch fire.
"It's not that serious. Primitive spatial jumps have very low material requirements. We can also do a full scan after assembly to eliminate any issues. Even in the worst-case scenario—a total failure midway through a jump—there's enough time to re-anchor. But both a full scan and a re-anchor consume a lot of energy, and in this backward backwater universe, both the Light of the Soul and soul energy are hard to replenish. We need to be as thrifty as possible. Anyway, this place is full of monkeys, and there are no annoying 'Wild Civilization Protection Laws.' We can just grab one and use them as a test pilot."
15 hours later. SierraMed Devices Inc. warehouse.
I have to donate to a church after this deal. Jonathan Fields couldn't think of any other reason for his good fortune.
He had been a pharmaceutical sales representative for nearly a decade and knew how dark the industry was. Because of that, even in his wildest dreams, he had never imagined a deal like this.
The client's several different behaviors had completely changed his understanding of the business:
The Client Who Came to Him: He was considering which client to take out for a drink when he got a call from a stranger who wanted to buy a large amount of medical equipment. If the meeting wasn't at a well-known hotel, he would have missed this miracle.The Newbie: When he saw the client at the hotel, the man's office worker clothes almost made him turn and leave. Luckily, the hotel had just served a clearly expensive dish.The Absolute Fraud: Just as he was about to eat and leave, the client dropped a massive order worth 70 million yuan. This only deepened Jonathan's suspicion. Anyone in the industry knew that an order of this magnitude was completely out of his company's and his own reach.The One Who Made Him Look Bad: The next morning, as he was still sleeping, his boss's phone had been ringing non-stop. He finally found a moment to explain his suspicions about the client, but the boss cut him off: "He paid in cash! Cash! He already paid a 30% deposit! A scam? You want me to believe this is a scam?! Please, teach me how to get scammed like that!"The Real Big Shot: Jonathan rushed to the office, embarrassed. His boss, who was always calm and well-dressed, was now wearing a tie that didn't match his shirt and two different-colored socks. He was carefully pouring tea and greeting the client. When the client was looking through the inventory list, the boss leaned in and whispered that the deposit alone was more than the company's total revenue last year—30 million yuan!The Perfect Client: No doctors, no engineers, no on-site operations, no after-sales service needed. He didn't even have to wine and dine them like he did for other hospital department heads. The only request was simple home delivery.
This was the most perfect client in the world!
"Mr. Fields..." The client's voice broke his happy thoughts. "Can you guarantee the quality of this analyzer?"
"Guaranteed! Absolutely guaranteed!" Jonathan eagerly approached Ethan Cole. "It's a world-leader. We can get you reports from medical research institutes and official evaluations within half a month."
"That's not what I mean..."
"Right, right, I get it..." Jonathan patted his chest with a knowing smile. "I've already spoken with the general manager. You are our most valued client. These documents are free, and we guarantee they are legitimate! They will pass any inspection from your hospital or higher authorities!"
"Stop all that nonsense. I'm talking about the real quality!"
This guy is so difficult. He's so vague and doesn't want to leave a single loophole!
"Don't worry, Mr. Cole..." Jonathan looked around and whispered. "The analyzer doesn't have direct contact with patients, and the results are mostly for reference. There will be no medical disputes, I promise! It definitely won't kill anyone!"
"If..." Jonathan carefully observed Ethan's expression, trying to figure out what he was thinking. "If you can lower your standards a bit, we can connect you with products from other manufacturers... of course, the quality is still guaranteed. We can still provide reports and evaluations, just a different brand..."
Jonathan lowered his voice even more. "The price can be discounted by 30%..."
"Never mind. This one is fine."
Two hours later, in another partner's warehouse, a similar conversation took place.
"Alright, Mr. Fields. Can you guarantee the quality of this X-ray machine?"
"Absolutely guaranteed! This company has very deep connections. No matter who comes to investigate, just drop a name..."
"Never mind..." The client waved his hand, seemingly helpless, and took out his bank card. "This one is fine."
Five hours later, at a company the boss had urgently contacted.
In a much more high-end warehouse, Ethan Cole gently touched an instrument and asked Jonathan Fields the same question for the umpteenth time: "Mr. Fields... can you guarantee the quality of this analyzer?"
"Don't you worry!" Jonathan couldn't figure out the client's true intentions, but he had already made several successful transactions. Hearing the familiar question, he leaned lazily against a pillar and waved his hand confidently, surrounded by the admiring gazes of the temporary staff. "Absolutely guaranteed!"
After swiping the card, arranging logistics, and shipping... two days had passed.
There were no difficult requests, no demands for reports or evaluations, and no attempts to accept bribes from other companies. By all accounts, this transaction was a perfect, dream-like experience.
And yet, as he got into the transport vehicle with the client and received the high commission in his company account, Jonathan Fields felt that something was not quite right. He glanced at the client and felt a strange pity in his eyes.
He couldn't shake the feeling of unease.
Three days later. Boston suburbs, warehouse.
The workers carefully moved the machines from the truck onto the cart Ethan had prepared, pushing them one by one to the warehouse door.
"Alright, Mr. Cole, this is the last one, the last item on the list."
Different from the usual quick payment, perhaps because it was the last batch of instruments, Ethan stood beside the cart and slowly checked the equipment.
Only after Jonathan paid the moving fee and watched the truck slowly drive away did Ethan look up and transfer the money with his phone. "Yes, this is it."
Relieved, Jonathan, who had been worried about a glitch with this last batch, said, "That's great, Mr. Cole. It was a pleasure doing business with you. When you have more business, remember me!"
"No problem, if Mr. Fields is willing."
"Oh, you're too kind..." Jonathan didn't even check the text message for the payment. Seeing Ethan extend his hand, he quickly took it with both hands. "Mr. Cole, you are a man of your word. I'm honored to call you a friend! Whenever you need help, just give me a call. I'll be there."
"Actually, there is something I need help with."
"Oh?" Jonathan's eyes lit up. He was eager to get closer to a big client like Ethan. "Just name it. I can't brag about much, but if you need something done in Boston, I have some connections. Even outside the city, as long as there's enough time, I can find someone."
"No, that's not it," Ethan shook his head. "I've troubled you enough these past few days. But you've probably figured out that I'm an amateur when it comes to medical equipment. And you've been curious about why I need these machines..."
Jonathan was a bit awkward, realizing Ethan had noticed his curiosity. "Haha... not at all... Mr. Cole, you're overthinking it..."
"I wish I was kidding. Honestly, I'm unlucky enough as it is. I really don't want to drag you down, but I have no other choice. Let's just say... a... someone invested some money in me to build an instrument. Thanks to your help, I have the raw materials ready. The problem is, I'm still missing a test subject..."
"A test subject?" Having been in the pharmaceutical industry for so long, the term "test subject" made Jonathan shiver.
That's when he realized that Ethan had been holding his hand for a little too long.
"Haha, Mr. Cole, you're joking. Test subjects are easy to find. For a few hundred or a thousand, you can find them on every street corner..."
Jonathan laughed and tried to pull his hand away, but a sudden force pulled on his right arm as if it were caught in an iron clamp and pulled by a crane. Jonathan was involuntarily dragged toward the warehouse door.
Holy shit, he's so strong!
Jonathan tensed his legs with all his might, but he couldn't slow himself down even by a step. He suddenly realized the young man beside him had incredible strength.
He stumbled, being dragged into the warehouse, where he saw expensive medical equipment stacked chaotically. Ethan dragged him toward a chair by the window. Its legs were welded to the floor. There was a roll of tape and some long ropes on it.
Gulp... Seeing such a complete kidnapping setup, Jonathan Fields swallowed hard. He tried to force a smile. "Mr. Cole, please stop joking... I made a big deal thanks to you. The company has arranged a celebratory dinner at a hotel. If you have time, we can go together? We'll make it for dinner."
"Mr. Cole, we can talk about this..."
His hands were tied.
"Look, I did my best for you these past few days. There's no need to make things so ugly..."
His feet were tied.
"I admit, a few instruments were a bit overpriced, but you can't blame me. You know how every company is looking for a bigger profit... or I can pay you back the difference privately..."
His mouth was taped shut.
What kind of lunatic is this?
Jonathan struggled for a bit, found it useless, and quickly calmed down.
Tied securely to the chair, Jonathan wasn't too worried. He figured some rich man had been scammed and was just using the "test subject" talk to scare him. Having been in this industry for years, Jonathan knew how rich people thought. He expected to be beaten, cursed, and abused. But killing? No rich person would get involved in a murder case for this little amount of money.
With that in mind, Jonathan began to retrace the deal in his mind. Where did it go wrong? Did he get caught overpricing? Was the refurbished equipment exposed? Was their price-gouging too obvious?
Fuck, I just made my first five million. How much will I have to spit back out?
No matter what, this deal can't be for nothing! If I don't get beaten, I'll keep half a million. If I get beaten badly, I'll demand to keep a million!
Jonathan vowed to himself as he watched Ethan Cole use a cart to bring the instruments into the warehouse one by one. He closed the door, then pushed a foreign-made nuclear magnetic resonance machine into the middle of the room.
And that's when Jonathan's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
In the middle of the warehouse, Ethan skillfully used various screwdrivers, wrenches, and pliers to dismantle the poor NMR machine. When he came across parts that were particularly secure and required special tools, he simply picked up a hammer and smashed the connections.
After extracting a small iron box and two coils from the unidentifiable pile of wreckage, Ethan kicked and shoved the pieces away.
Holy shit, eight million... gone in less than five minutes?!
From the moment Ethan took out the hammer until the NMR machine became a pile of junk, Jonathan's mouth remained wide open under the tape.
He didn't know how much time had passed until Ethan pushed an 11-million-yuan linear accelerator over and raised his hammer again.
Jonathan finally realized that he had stumbled into a problem that couldn't be solved with money.
Four days later. Boston suburbs, warehouse.
"Hey... hey... wake up..."
Jonathan Fields slowly opened his eyes, feeling groggy. Ethan Cole stopped slapping his face.
"Want something to eat?"
"Where am I?" Jonathan looked around, saw he was not in his bedroom, and tried to stand up, only to be pulled back down by the ropes.
He came to his senses two seconds later.
"Mr. Cole, please, please let me go..."
"I was wrong, I shouldn't have scammed you! I shouldn't have ripped you off! I'll give everything back to you!"
"If you want, just say the word, and I'll go to the company with you to sue them and get all your money back!"
"Please, you've tied me up for a day and a night. Aren't you over it? Please, just let me go. I promise I won't say a word!"
No matter what Jonathan promised, pleaded, or howled, Ethan just listened. When Jonathan finally stopped, Ethan took a bun from a 300,000-yuan medical refrigerator and asked, "Want something to eat? It's very fresh. Have one?"
"Fuck! That's my bun!"
"Damn it! I'm warning you, I'm not a nobody! My company must have reported this to the police. Have you heard of A-plus, the Boston gangster? He's a good friend of mine!"
"If you're smart, you'll..."
A bun was shoved into Jonathan's mouth.
Five days later. Boston suburbs, warehouse.
During a break from eating the buns Ethan fed him, Jonathan's pleas were filled with tears.
This was normal. Not everyone gets to be tied up in a remote warehouse, watching a monster who doesn't need to sleep for two days straight carelessly dismantle millions of dollars worth of expensive instruments and assemble them into a series of bizarre, terrifying machines.
The most terrifying one, placed in the center, looked exactly like an electric chair from a TV show.
"Mr. Cole, look, I'm 40 years old, fat and ugly, and I have high blood pressure. I'm definitely not a good test subject..."
"Our general manager is perfect! He's only 30, and he runs every morning and plays soccer every week... It was him! He told me to rip you off and steal your order! Find him! Find him!..."
"Or what about that pretty little girl who ate with us last time? She just turned 19. She's great at yoga and has a fantastic body! Let me go, no, no, just let me down, let me make a call, and I promise I'll get her here..."
"And... and..."
Another bun was shoved into Jonathan's mouth.
Six days and thirteen hours later. Solar system, Earth, United States, Boston suburbs, warehouse.
After being tied up for three full days, Jonathan Fields, who was starting to fall into intermittent unconsciousness, was woken up by a slap to the face.
He slowly opened his heavy eyelids and saw Ethan Cole, empty-handed for the first time, standing in front of him. In the warehouse, over 70 million yuan worth of high-precision medical equipment had been completely demolished. Five peculiar-looking devices, assembled from the parts of these instruments, stood neatly in the only clean space in the chaotic warehouse.
"Sorry to have put you through so much. Get up, everything is ready."
Seeing that Jonathan had opened his eyes, Ethan untied the ropes that had bound him for over 70 hours and helped him up.
"No! Don't!"
Seeing himself being led toward the "electric chair," Jonathan mustered all his remaining strength. "Let me go! Let me go!"
"Don't be afraid... just relax..." This level of resistance couldn't faze Ethan. "Don't be afraid... it just looks like an electric chair, but it's not. Don't be afraid, don't move. Look, the wires aren't even connected yet."
The reassurance seemed to work a little. Jonathan's struggles lessened. "Really? You promise I'll be okay?"
"Yes, I promise... well, I promise... maybe... probably... if something happens, it won't be too painful... I think?"
"Let me go! Let me go! Let me..."
Amidst his terrified howls, Jonathan was moved from one chair to another and was once again tied up, hands and feet bound, mouth taped shut.
"Excellent, just in time."
After placing Jonathan in the "test pilot" seat, QA9677's voice sounded in Ethan Cole's mind: "Now, meet your daily commute."
"On the far left is the Primitive Micro-Energy Scavenger, next to it is the Primitive Micro-Energy Container, then the Primitive Micro-Field Inducer, and on the far right is the Primitive Micro-Jump Gate Generator."
"One absorbs energy, one stores it, one stabilizes the field, and one generates the gate to send you to school."
You're fucking done with the introduction?!
"Of course. With your current knowledge, this is the limit of your brain's understanding."
"Now, open the scavenger."
Ethan walked to the machine on the far left and slowly reached for the only lever. His fingers trembled, and he couldn't bring himself to do it. It's meant to absorb energy for a spatial jump... even as a normal college student, Ethan knew that anything involving time and space also involved things like light speed, mass, and the Big Bang...
Will it explode if I pull it? And the energy for a spatial jump must be enormous, right? Will it cause a city-wide blackout? Will it fry all the appliances?
"No, Earth's primitive grid is too unstable. It's not a suitable energy source. The Primitive Micro-Energy Scavenger absorbs energy from high-energy cosmic rays and particles. A short jump of 15 billion light-years for a small mass of under 200 kilograms will take less than two minutes for the scavenger to complete its task. It will have no effect on Earth."
Really?
Ethan raised his hand, lowered it, raised it again, lowered it again. He couldn't make up his mind.
"Oh? Looks like you need to reconsider?"
A trip to hell...
NO! NO! I'm good!
Ethan quickly pulled the lever.
The scene before him instantly changed. All objects in the warehouse were covered in a purple light. Jonathan Fields, tied to the "electric chair" and facing the window, his eyes wide and struggling to their limits.
Following Jonathan's terrified gaze, Ethan slowly turned his head.
The next moment, as if in a trance, Ethan's feet moved toward the window. Outside the window, from top to bottom, near to far, from the ground to the sky, everything was bathed in purple light.
Unconsciously, Ethan looked up. The sun had lost its former brilliance and its usual arrogance. It had become a soft, purple ball of light. A completely unfamiliar, purple sun!
Fuck!
Ethan ran from the window, stumbling and crawling to the center of the warehouse. He threw himself at the scavenger's lever.
His reaction was pointless. The lever had already flipped back up before he even reached it. The purple light that had filled the warehouse—and the world—vanished.
"Good. The first step was smooth. The energy for the jump has been collected," QA9677's voice said with satisfaction. "Now, give our lovely energy container some time to convert. The jump will happen in two hours."
And you said this would have "no effect"?!
Unable to control his emotions, Ethan shouted for the first time in his conversations with QA9677.
"That's right, no effect. The sun is still there, and so is the sunlight. The color just changed a little because the scavenger absorbed the infrared and some of the near-red visible light particles."
Oh no, oh no, oh no. How wide was the absorption range? How many people saw it? Not the whole city of Boston, right?
"No, the range isn't just Boston," QA9677's sneering voice answered his question. "...It's the entire solar system."