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Deus Ex Machina

Deus Ex Machina: Chapter 52

Chapter 52

“Suicide?” Yang Jin asked with confusion upon hearing this. The virtual images from several years ago around them paused. “Are you sure it was suicide? It’s one thing for a person, but a group of people? Could it be they were somehow manipulated?”

Pony replied, “Qianfan set up an investigation team to look into the matter, but the result was indeed suicide.”

“Reason?” Yang Jin asked.

“No reason,” Pony said. “If there has to be a reason, it would be the collapse of their beliefs.”

Shi Yixi didn’t understand Pony’s meaning and quietly asked Yang Jin, “What does that mean? What belief?”

“How would I know?” Yang Jin casually replied, but soon, images flashed through his mind. After a moment of contemplation, he seemed to understand Pony’s point.

He had always thought that the people from the Prometheus Laboratory were madmen. They lacked empathy and were obsessed with their own fields. They were all top-tier geniuses who made extraordinary contributions to the advancement of science, but if you asked each of them about their motives, the number of people who answered “to pursue the truth” would definitely outnumber those who said “for the good of all mankind.”

The more passionate they were about scientific truth, the more indifferent they were to the mundane world.

In the era of genetic advancements, when organizations like religion no longer held sway, if people were still obsessed with something, it was the pursuit of truth. In a way, science had become a “religion”—the most unwavering faith. The eternal light of truth supported humanity’s fragile flame, allowing them to march fearlessly through the darkness, always believing that the other side held the promise of happiness.

But when something a person believes in is shaken, the destruction brought about by the collapse of their faith is more terrifying than anything else.

These Prometheans firmly believed that they held the key to the genetic door, that with a simple turn, it would open. But after the degeneration of Sample 1, the key they held turned into a venomous snake with crimson fangs.

The light of truth became a blood-red hue, and the torch in their hands was extinguished.

Many began to doubt themselves. Something they had believed for so many years was suddenly overturned. The clouds of doubt grew darker, eventually turning into a raging storm that swept through their fragile souls.

If truth was an illusion, then the lives that had been devoted to seeking it became utterly insignificant.

Science made people better, but science also turned people into something less than human.

The strong souls dissipated, and the Prometheans chose to quietly leave this world, to leave the illusion behind.

Death was the only truth.

If I hear the Dao in the morning, it’s enough to die in the evening 1,” Yang Jin asked Shi Yixi, “Have you ever heard this saying?”

Shi Yixi shook his head.

“These are the words that those madmen often say. ‘Dao’ is the cosmic law of truth from ancient Eastern philosophy. This saying means that if you understand the law of truth in the morning, then dying in the evening is acceptable,” Yang Jin said. “They are probably like that, spending every day locked up in the lab, not caring at all about the outside world, and they would never go to the frontlines with us because it’s too dangerous. But, if you tell them that they could exchange their lives for a truth they don’t yet know, maybe they would agree without hesitation.”

Shi Yixi asked with confusion, “Are there really people like that?”

“There are,” Yang Jin said. “Ordinary people live just to survive, but they live to understand.” He paused here, sighed, and continued, “They can dress up grandly and die for the truth. Similarly, they would choose to end their lives if they lost the truth, because they would have nothing left to pursue, and thus, life would have no meaning.”

“Then… what about their families?” Shi Yixi asked. “Don’t they have people or things they can’t bear to part with?”

“No,” Yang Jin shook his head. “They are too heartless. They are… different.”

The image of their environment resumed moving.

The scientists died one by one, and the last failed sample was destroyed. This was the grandest plan in Qianfan’s history, and even in human history. In myths, gods always created the world and humans, but in reality, humans desperately tried to create a new genetic form. This time, it was humans trying to create gods. It had once reached the other shore of truth, but in the final moment, it turned into a mirage.

This was the pain in everyone’s heart, and Qianfan decided to destroy all the plan’s materials, letting time erase all traces.

In this grand and tragic battle, only Guan Jincheng was not defeated. He persisted with his strong will, but since then, his personality became increasingly gloomy. His research shifted to the advanced development of Haiyan, increasing the activation rate of existing potential, and he never left the lab.

“Pretty…” Shi Yixi scratched his hair, hesitating to phrase his words. “Pretty romantic.”

“Hm?” Yang Jin didn’t understand why Shi Yixi said that.

“Now that you’ve explained, I understand,” Shi Yixi said. “Maybe all a person needs is to be responsible for themselves. Death seems like a sad thing, but if a person believes it’s the right choice, then others have no right to interfere, right? Because we can never… never know what the person who chose to end their own life was going through. If we can’t empathize, we should stay silent and respect their choice.”

Shi Yixi sometimes spoke in a disjointed manner, as if his brain needed a very complex process to turn his thoughts into words. But this awkwardness made it feel like every word from Shi Yixi was a bit frightening. He had his kindness and justice, but unlike most people, his kindness and justice carried a cold, cruel undertone.

“What if I die?” Yang Jin asked. “Would you be sad?”

“Sad?” Shi Yixi hesitated and asked, “What does it feel like?” He vaguely understood, but he didn’t want Yang Jin to know.

“I don’t know how to describe it,” Yang Jin said, placing his hand on Shi Yixi’s head. “But I hope you never know what it feels like.”

Shi Yixi obediently nodded.

Yang Jin took a deep breath and said to Pony, “So, the explosion at Qianfan is related to Guan Jincheng, right? Guan Jincheng is still alive, and I don’t know if Wan Hong is still alive. So, it seems that the incident with Aurora should also be related to Guan Jincheng, right?”

“Aurora? I don’t know,” Pony said. “But Qianfan is connected to them.”

Shi Yixi asked, “Was Sanctum made the scapegoat?”

“Not a single good person,” Yang Jin shook his head, his expression dark and grim.

He had always been accustomed to a certain pattern and then fell into another blind spot of that pattern. He had been fighting against Sanctum for years, and Sanctum was Qianfan’s greatest enemy. With the entire Qianfan wiped out, Sanctum would naturally benefit the most, so he had no doubt in pointing the finger at Sanctum. Later, a series of troubles led him further down this path. But today, Pony told him that everything was a lie—the ones who had killed his comrades were their most trusted superior officers.

So, what were these innocent souls? Were they sacrifices for some massive benefit? Or sacrifices for madmen?

The saddest thing was that they might have believed those “just” ideals until their deaths.

Yang Jin always mocked the Fire Stealers, but at this moment, he understood that immense sorrow. Because the beliefs were false, the truth was false, everything was false.

He slumped, releasing the tension in his body, and lowered his head. Shi Yixi supported him from behind and softly asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Yang Jin said with a bleak smile. “I’m just a little tired.”

“Then let’s rest here,” Shi Yixi said. “Rest until you feel ready. Or… or we can stay here forever.”

“Little fool, stay here forever? What about the people outside?” Yang Jin said. “More people are going to die. What then? Do you want to be a deserter?”

“If I can use one ounce of strength, I’ll use one ounce. If I have ten ounces of strength, I’ll use all ten,” Shi Yixi said. “But what I can do will always be limited by my abilities. This has nothing to do with whether I’m a deserter or not.” He blinked and asked Yang Jin, “Do you understand what I mean?”

Yang Jin chuckled bitterly. It was always him asking Shi Yixi whether he understood or not, and now this little fool was turning the question around on him. It felt like the sun had risen in the west.

However, he understood. He nodded, mustered up his strength, and forced a smile at Shi Yixi before turning to Pony and asking, “Pony, can you take us out of here?”

“Of course,” Pony said. “I can fulfill any request you make.”

It was an enticing offer, but Yang Jin’s intuition told him that there was no such thing as a free lunch in this world.

“So, what do you want?” Yang Jin asked.

Pony smiled. “What I want is very simple— I want you to do the right thing.”

“The right thing?” Yang Jin raised an eyebrow. “What is the right thing?”

Pony shook her head and didn’t answer Yang Jin’s question. However, her smile was filled with ambiguity. Yang Jin tried to understand what Pony meant, but soon he realized that the thinking of artificial intelligence, in some respects, was far more complicated than theirs. His instinct told him that Pony hadn’t fully explained everything.

“Ten seconds from now, we will leave Universe 3821, and I will temporarily store myself in your bracelet,” Pony said. “Thanks to Mr. Yu. He is a genius.”

Yang Jin really wanted to roll his eyes.

Ten seconds passed quickly. As the countdown hit the final second, he grabbed Shi Yixi’s hand. Shi Yixi stared at him, bewildered. He said, “Don’t get lost.”

Luan Chen, with Zhan Feng, arrived at Sanctum’s secret base near the reservoir. It was a temporary structure set up by Bishop, and Luan Chen also had access to it.

“Long time no see, Derek,” Luan Chen said with his hands behind his back, walking through the hall with his head held high and a constant smile on his face. “I didn’t expect you to fix up this control room so well. So, how’s the gravitational wave radio transmitter? Is it still functional?”

Derek was Bishop’s name. He was young, slightly hunched, with messy silver short hair, and his pale face appeared even paler under the light of the screen. His dark circles made him look gaunt, and his cheeks were slightly sunken due to his thinness.

He looked like a nervous, sickly person.

“It’s no trouble,” Derek said. “Did Checker send you?”

“Yes,” Luan Chen smiled. “Checker told you not to do anything meaningless.”

“Did Checker really say that?” Derek asked suspiciously. “No, you’re lying. He’s not like that.”

Luan Chen smiled. “You’re the one lying to yourself.”

Derek’s gaze shifted over Luan Chen and landed on Zhan Feng behind him. He frowned slightly, stumbling over to Zhan Feng and asking, “What happened to you? How did you end up like this?”

Zhan Feng had not yet responded when Luan Chen coldly said, “My people don’t need you asking around, do they?”

Derek replied, “Then don’t worry about what I do. Luan Chen, I just want to try…”

“Try?” Luan Chen laughed. “Meaningless attempts are just a waste of time. What are you trying to do with that gravitational wave radio transmitter? In this empty universe, no one is going to come and save you.”

“But I trust humans even less,” Derek said. “Humans are the most greedy and selfish creatures, blindly arrogant, full of self-righteousness. A species like that is just terrible. I would rather keep hoping for the distant universe than waste any more patience on such a vile species.”

Luan Chen asked, “Then what are you?”

“Don’t I also get tired of myself?” Derek said. “If it weren’t for my physical condition, I would rather fully mechanize this body.”

No matter how extreme Derek’s words were, Luan Chen still smiled. Derek, disgusted, said, “I hate your smile. You have almost every loathsome human trait I despise.”

“Is that so? Thanks for the compliment,” Luan Chen replied. “However, what kind of person I am seems irrelevant to this matter. Derek, I suggest you don’t activate that device. That was also Checker’s intention. In this long battle, we have unshakable confidence and determination. Qianfan has already been destroyed, the star markers have evolved to a higher level, and the Intercontinental Alliance’s mess has yet to be cleaned up. Are you sure you want to introduce an uncertain factor at this time? The universe is vast. Haven’t humans explored those even farther places? If you send out a signal, even if there are more advanced civilizations, how long do you think it will take them to find you? Can you be sure we’re in the same space-time dimension? By that time, our world might have already become a rich and colorful multiverse. Are you… sure?”

“Don’t lie to me!” Derek, enraged by Luan Chen’s words, shakily approached the console and began operating it. Meanwhile, a large group of mechanical forces, armed with weapons, surged into the room.

“What are you doing?!” Zhan Feng shouted, drawing his weapons.

“Calm down,” Luan Chen said to Zhan Feng, pressing his hand down. He pulled up an image from the terminal—there was a pitch-black humanoid figure emitting a strange sound.

The voice said, “Derek, stop everything you are doing.”

“You should know what this is,” Luan Chen said. “This is a communication that can only be activated with Checker’s authorization. I’m not lying to you.”

Derek hesitated for a moment, his movements halting. He muttered to himself, “Why does he never stand on my side… I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“He’s not against you,” Luan Chen signaled Zhan Feng with a glance. Zhan Feng quietly repositioned himself when Derek wasn’t looking. Luan Chen continued speaking to Derek, “You’re not doing anything wrong, it’s just… maybe it’s not the right time.”

“I…” Derek was about to say something when the hesitation in his eyes vanished. The mechanized troops’ firepower locked onto Zhan Feng. Derek snarled, “This is what needs to be done now! And you—none of you are qualified!”

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Translator Notes
  1. “朝闻道,夕死可矣” is a sentence from the literary work 《The Analects of Confucius》 (Lunyu), specifically from the fourth chapter, Li Ren (The Virtue of Ren). In the phrase “朝闻道,夕死可矣,” the term “道” (dao) refers to the universal principles or laws of the cosmos, the “Way” of the universe, as explained in the famous line “道可道,非常道” (The Dao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Dao). It is not meant in the common understanding as simply hearing a piece of wisdom or truth in the morning and being ready to die by evening. Instead, it signifies that understanding the fundamental truth of the universe is so valuable that one can die peacefully after gaining such insight. It is comparable to saying “die for the truth or a just cause”.[]
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