Chapter 47

Chapter 47: Sea Without Light Part 47

The researchers in the laboratory hugged and high-fived each other in celebration, with exclamations and praises filling the space.

Dr. Zhao, too, embraced his assistant jubilantly, shaking hands with one researcher after another. He wanted to hug Kui Xin, but Yechan extended his arm to block him.

“Watch your status,” he reminded.

“Oh oh oh.” Dr. Zhao was in high spirits and did not argue with Yechan. He held Kui Xin’s hand back and forth and shook it, “Miss, we succeeded! This historic moment—how meaningful!”

“Congratulations.” Kui Xin cordially shook his hand.

Despite the various voices and the joyous atmosphere among everyone, the bioroid on the experiment table remained silent.

With no emotions in its silver eyes, it simply observed from left to right, top to bottom, and then studied each face for a long time. It didn’t understand why such expressions appeared on people’s faces; in fact, it couldn’t make complete expressions because its bioroid skin had yet to be installed. It was just a skeleton filled with muscles and organs.

The bioroid looked lifelessly at everyone around it, with no other actions, as if it were disconnected from this world.

After a few seconds, it suddenly laughed.

That laugh was abrupt and eerie.

In the instant the bioroid laughed, the entire laboratory fell silent.

The researchers exchanged glances, the joyful atmosphere freezing. They watched the bioroid on the experiment with strange and subtle eyes.

The bioroid continued laughing, raising its arms and moving its hands to grab the air, laughing along the way, “Haha… Hahaha…”

At first, its laughter was somewhat jerky and lacking in pitch, like an aged circuit’s audio system, unable to project a clear sound. But after laughing for about ten seconds, its laughter became clearer and more human-like.

“Damn, can’t we stop this thing? I get goosebumps,” Yechan broke down saying, “What’s wrong with it? Did the head short-circuit? Why is it laughing?”

“It’s not short-circuited, it’s imitating humans,” Kui Xin concluded after observing for a while, “It grabbing the air is mimicking the researchers’ clapping, slapping, and hugging. Its laughter is also imitative.”

“Sits like a zombie from an old movie,” Yechan said irritably.

Dr. Zhao refuted fiercely, “How can you call it a zombie? It’s adorable like a newborn human child. It’s learning about the world; look at its learning power, how clever it is!” He considered Kui Xin as someone who could interpret the bioroid’s body language, “Miss, come closer and observe it. Isn’t it beautiful? Just like nature’s creation… human creations aren’t far from natural ones.”

Yechan clicked her tongue, “I don’t understand mad scientists—where’s the beauty? All I see is a skeletal frame laughing at me. It’s suitable for horror movies.”

After a moment, the bioroid stopped laughing. It returned to silence, its waving arms dropping to its sides. However, it still observed everyone’s reactions, its gaze wandering between different faces.

When Dr. Zhao led Kui Xin closer to it, it turned its head almost to look back, but its body structure prevented it from turning fully.

The bioroid’s silver eyes followed Dr. Zhao and Kui Xin as they moved. Its head turned accordingly with theirs.

“Icy cold touch,” Dr. Zhao touched the bioroid’s arm and invited Kui Xin to feel it too.

Kui Xin reached out and touched the bioroid, feeling the cold texture of the simulated organism slightly reflecting the light of the laboratory.

“Its blood is the key for its operations. Blood transports the energy driving its movements,” Dr. Zhao pointed to the exposed vessels, “Certainly, the blood is silver too. We refer to the fluid in the vessels as blood, but actually, bioroid blood is entirely different from human blood, at least for classification purposes.”

“How long does their lifespan last?” Kui Xin asked.

“Theoretically, Type II can serve for up to 180 years if the body doesn’t age,” replied Dr. Zhao, “Type I can last at most 30-40 years due to material limitations. Type II is全面提升 compared to Type I.”

“It has no reproductive organs,” Kui Xin added, “Is that because from the start, it was designed to prevent them from reproducing?”

“Not entirely. Mostly for design convenience, this being the first prototype of the second-generation bioroids. It was primarily to verify the feasibility of the Type II plan; once activated, deemed successful without considering gender,” replied Dr. Zhao, “If we put it into markets later, we’ll have male and female models to cater to different jobs and professions. Current designs include combat types, housekeeping types, maintenance types, service types…”

Indeed, all these types were considered… The ambition of the Mechanical Dawn was vast.

Not only ambitions, but also the means, technology, and resources to implement those ambitions.

Kui Xin couldn’t help thinking about how impressive her father, whom she had always regarded as trash, had become. He’d gathered a team of outstanding subordinates and expanded the company to an unprecedented scale.

Her trash father from the First World started off well, but after a few years, he got carried away, investing recklessly and ultimately losing everything. If he truly had talent, would he have ended up so disastrously?

A vague sense of discomfort crept into her heart… perhaps the trash father from the Second World was indeed more formidable than the ones from the First World?

Without further thought, the cool sensation in Kui Xin’s arm brought her back to reality.

The bioroid was following Kui Xin’s lead, reaching out to stroke her arm.

Kui Xin stared in surprise at the bioroid, which after touching Kui Xin’s arm, gently touched her soft cheek before pulling back. It repeated the action several times, touching itself and then the hand.

“Is it confused about why it’s different from you?” Dr. Zhao speculated, “Your touch is distinct. It has a tactile system.”

“It does seem to be,” Kui Xin replied, “Curiosity or confusion, is this a form of emotion?”

Dr. Zhao pondered, “The fundamental reason for such behavior might not necessarily be an emotion. It could be a learning consciousness. We enhanced their learning consciousness during design to serve humans better, similar to how AI ‘thinks’ through data.”

“Correct. Everything is uncertain, requiring experimentation and observational data.”

Kui Xin stepped back, dodging the bioroid as it stretched out towards her. The bioroid, undeterred, stretched further to try and touch her. Seeing she avoided it, it shifted its attention to Dr. Zhao standing beside Kui Xin.

Dr. Zhao stepped back too, standing side-by-side with Kui Xin.

“Come, stand up and walk over here!” Dr. Zhao’s eyes lit up as he mumbled instructions, pacing back and forth to demonstrate how to use the legs. “Stand up, first move your left leg, then your right leg, walking step-by-step.”

Watching Yechan commented, “You must be a good father.”

“What nonsense is this?” Dr. Zhao replied confused.

Yechan continued, “You’re teaching like a father guiding his child, patiently urging, ‘Come on, come closer.’ The scene feels vivid.”

Dr. Zhao chuckled unperturbed, “Researchers treat their prized works just like their children, it’s not exaggerated.”

Maybe the demonstration worked, as the bioroid began trying to move its legs.

First, it sat on the experiment table and kicked its legs, then realized it was doing it wrong and tried to stand up five or six times, falling onto its face with a loud thud onto the floor.

Dr. Zhao hurried over, “Oh no, this prototype can’t break down. We need it for further experiments.”

Helped by Dr. Zhao, the bioroid stood upright, walking aimlessly, mechanically lifting its legs and swaying. After just a dozen steps, it mastered walking, maintaining a much steadier posture.

Dr. Zhao circled the bioroid like a doting father, worried it might trip or fall.

“When creating bioroids, do they lack social awareness? Are they not ready to be put on the market immediately?” Kui Xin questioned.

Dr. Zhao was busy assisting, his aide replied, “No, we already have solutions. We can implant memories and basic knowledge in their brains, like programming for AI, making them run according to the program.”

“Let’s leave them alone,” Yechan said to Kui Xin, “There’s nothing interesting about a white-boned frame. If you’re interested in the experiment projects, I can show you something else.”

“Mm,” Kui Xin glanced at the bioroid and followed Yechan.

Thus, the enigmatic veil of the Mechanical Dawn organization was unveiled before Kui Xin, who naturally wanted to see and learn more.

“Why are you suddenly keen on these projects now after rarely having anything to do with them?” Yechan casually asked.

“Only when interested will I get involved. If not, I won’t,” Kui Xin replied offhandedly.

“Exactly,” Yechan said, “Why not visit the exoskeleton armor department? We’ve heard there’s a new model under experimental development.”

“Alright,” Kui Xin agreed.

They proceeded through a glass tunnel and entered an enclosed metal corridor. After passing through five gates, they approached a room marked “Dangerous Equipment Laboratory”.

Yechan tapped the screen beside the metal gate, revealing a researcher’s face on the screen.

“Dr. Qiu,” Yechan nodded to the woman on display, “Can we enter to tour now?”

“Wait ten minutes,” Dr. Qiu spoke directly, ending the call without hesitation.

Yechan turned to Kui Xin, shrugging, “Scientists are often arrogant and tend to be peculiar. Dr. Qiu dislikes trivial talk; even the boss gets no special treatment.”

“Understood,” Kui Xin responded, “Their dedication to research is pure.”

“True,” said Yechan.

Ten minutes later, the gate unlocked exactly on time. Dr. Qiu, dressed in a lab coat with arms crossed, sternly stated, “You have twenty minutes to tour. Don’t think you need to stay until the very end to use your time. The sooner you leave, the better.”

“Got it,” Yechan walked in nonchalantly.

Entering the hazardous equipment laboratory, thick blast-resistant glass allowed Kui Xin to see researchers clad in masks manipulating machinery for welding. Before her rested a mechanical hand composed of thousands of precision-fitted metal plates, resembling a human hand.

Melting metal splashed, sparkling flames intense and blinding, causing sharp pain to eyes.

Taking on protective goggles, Kui Xin found her eyes significantly relieved from the searing light.

An assistant explained to Kui Xin, “This is our latest enhanced exoskeleton armor. Its function is to enhance fighting ability for individuals without mechanized limbs.”

He retrieved a fully assembled exoskeleton armor from the testing stand. The armor overall appeared black, with a unique coating that seemed to absorb light. The design appeared lightweight and flexible despite its bulkiness.

“This is the right-arm segment of the armor, adjustable to fit the user’s arm shape,” the assistant said, “Please try it on.”

Kui Xin lifted her right arm to assist her in putting on the exoskeleton armor.

As soon as her arm went inside, the mechanical structure automatically adjusted, firmly securing itself, yet without causing discomfort. Elbow joints and upper forearm metal plates adjusted for optimal fit around her arm, with fingers fitting snugly against her skin, joints minutely protruding, capable of inflicting enhanced strike damage.

The thickness of armor proved thinner than Kui Xin expected; with it on, her arm only appeared slightly bulkier, barely noticeable when sleeves were pulled down.

“Share your impression of wearing it,” the assistant asked.

“Grip feels thin and light,” Kui Xin said with a slight surprise.

A proud expression appeared on the assistant’s face, “Yes! Unlike bulky previous models, this armor maintains both strength and thinness. We used lightweight alloys for flexibility, minimizing connection components, taking two years merely in designing blueprints.”

He led Kui Xin to a smaller chamber beside the lab, “This is a test facility. You can test its capabilities. Theoretically, it will double your physical power. If equipped comprehensively, it might enhance to threefold. Currently, full assembly is in progress.”

Inside the test chamber stood a specialized force-measuring punching device.

Kui Xin approached and punched the device with her right fist.

The measuring device’s numbers jumped swiftly, instantly climbing to 500, stabilizing at 537 lbs.

The assistant gasped, “Amazing! You’re a real heavyweight! With this, winning a lightweight women’s boxing championship should be a piece of cake.”

Without the extra power given by the exoskeleton, Kui Xin’s inherent strength was still strong, ensuring effective enhancement.

Yechan glanced at the displayed reading, “You seemed reserved, Miss.”

“It was just a trial. No need to push limits,” Kui Xin dismissed it with a shake of her hand.

Yechan replied, “What else do you want to see? I’ll show you.”

“Come, let’s keep moving…”

Kui Xin stripped off the exoskeleton armor…

In a dimly lit oppressive room, the sole illumination came from a floating light orb emitting a faint blue light.

“…”

“No, she has no doubts. You can rest assured.”

“…”

“Yes, I’m surprised too. This was beyond expectations…”

“…”

“Everything is proceeding as planned, but why the sudden change in thought? Was it because of her? Arbitrarily altering plans might harm us.”

“…”

“Alright, understood. I will follow your instructions.”

“…”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t ask, but why? Why her? Why my daughter…” The man asked the glowing orb earnestly, tilting forward from the edge of the table in urgency and confusion.

The blue light orb pulsated, interrupting his words.

“…”

“Fine, I’ll stop asking.” Closing his eyes, the man took a deep breath, “I’ll take care of my tasks.”

The blue orb dimmed, extinguishing the light.

Seconds later, the room lights flickered on, dispelling darkness with artificial luminescence.

“Ding-ding!”

The man answered his communication: “Hello?”

“Boss, finished what needed to be done for the lady. She toured some areas. Want to see her again or let her go?” Yechan inquired.

Kui Hai Dong tugged impatiently on his tie, “Let that rebellious girl leave.”

“Uhm…” Yechan hesitated, “Alright, I’ll send her off.”

Yechan ended the communication, and suddenly the blue orb lit up in front of Kui Hai Dong, alarming him nearly causing him to choke. In haste, he responded, “Your command?”

“Put on a hidden earpiece,” the orb commanded with text appearing on it, “Summon her here. Whatever I say, repeat verbatim without additional questions.”

Kui Hai Dong bowed repeatedly, “Understood.”

From his watch, he extracted a concealed earpiece, placing it in his ear and then rubbed his face. He pulled out a small mirror from a desk drawer to tidy his appearance, running a comb through his hair, sitting back at his desk in a grand leader-like demeanor.

“Yechan,” Kui Hai Dong made a call, “Bring my daughter over.”

Yechan paused, “?!”

“He just brought Miss home,” the man reported back.

“Fetch her again. Remember something was left unsaid,” urged Kui Hai Dong.

“Understood, contacting her now.” Yechan replied and soon dialed.

“You informed Lady that she’d return, she seems unwilling. She wouldn’t come unless ordered,” she stated.

“Fine. Return her then,” sighed Kui Hai Dong, exasperated.

After receiving the instruction via hidden earphone, he responded, “Alright, bringing her back over.”

“Night Cicada,” Kui Hai Dong made the call again.