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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 4: Whispers of the Inceptor and the Thorny Rose
The mouse pointer finally settled on the option labeled “[Online Whispers (Encrypted Channel)]”.
Don’t call me coward; this is called strategic preservation of my limited resources. An offline meeting? I don’t even know if they’re round or flat, human or AI. Just diving in headfirst is no different from volunteering to fill a spot in an organ donation pool. I’d better scout the waters online first; at least through a network cable, I have the option to pull the plug if things go south. This is the survival rule that best suits someone like me—without connections, without gear, relying solely on sheer courage (and instant noodles) to scrape by as a “grassroots detective.”
I clicked confirm. The page transitioned to an extremely minimalist loading screen, featuring only a dimly spinning lighthouse icon and a line of small text below: “Establishing secure connection, please keep Frequency pure…”
Frequency pure? I almost laughed out loud. The only thing my current Frequency could pick up was probably instant noodle seasoning packets and bank collection notices. Yet those few seconds of waiting felt longer than waiting for a court verdict. The studio was eerily quiet; I could even hear my heart racing from anxiety, thumping loudly against my eardrums. Sweat from my palms soaked the mouse, making it sticky. I instinctively clenched my fist, feeling my nails nearly dig into my flesh.
The screen finally flickered, popping up a chat window that was simpler than Windows Notepad. A pure black background with a solitary user in the conversation list; their avatar was a gray, blurry silhouette, and their nickname—“Inceptor.”
Great, this pretentious and dramatic vibe is just perfect.
Before I could gather my thoughts, the other party sent their first message. The font was an emotionless system default, but the content carried an undeniable sense of scrutiny:
Inceptor: Frequency calibrated. Pathfinder, welcome to the Narrow Gate of Thought. I am your Inceptor. Tell me, what made you break free from the gravity of reality and hear the call of the lighthouse?
Here we go! The show has begun!
I took a deep breath, feeling the air charged with static as it filled my lungs. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, initiating what might be the most important “performance” of my career. What kind of act should I put on? Confusion—yes, confusion is essential. Anxiety—extreme anxiety. Dissatisfaction with reality and a desire for revenge but lacking direction, like a headless fly. A touch of cleverness too; otherwise, how did I find this place? But not too confident—I needed to appear easily “guided”… Damn it, isn’t this exactly how I felt when I just lost my job? A true-to-life performance should… hopefully not give me away.
After several edits, I finally twisted a straightforward “Who are you?” into this convoluted mess that made my stomach churn as I typed:
Me: I… I don’t know. Just feel… life is so dull. Like a top being spun by others every day; if it stops, it falls over. Can’t see an end. While aimlessly browsing online, I came across an article from the Lighthouse Society, and it felt like someone was voicing my innermost thoughts. That code… I saw it on an old forum ages ago; someone mysteriously claimed it could open a door no one knew about. So… I gave it a try, and unexpectedly… it really…
I tried to make my tone sound both timid and excited while attributing the code’s origin to an unverifiable “old forum,” leaving myself some room for retreat.
Inceptor: Confusion is the soul's instinctive rejection of low-frequency environments. Your metaphor of the top is interesting, but you overlook that a top can also choose its axis of rotation. That code is a spark scattered by the lighthouse; only those whose hearts burn with discontent can sense its warmth. Your ability to find this place indicates that your soul's Frequency is resonating with the lighthouse.
The rhetoric here is sophisticated! Every sentence revolves around "Frequency" and "soul," sounding mystical, but in reality, it's just a carefully packaged set of PUA (Pick-Up Artist) tactics. They first make you feel unique, then belittle you to nothing. I feel like I'm chatting with an AI chatbot disguised as a philosophical mentor, an upgraded version specifically designed for mental manipulation.
I said, "Frequency... axis... I don't quite understand... I just feel that the pressure in society is too great. It seems like no matter how hard I try, it’s useless; good opportunities are snatched away by others. I don’t want to just drift through life like a... like a cog, used up and thrown away. But I really don’t know what to do."
The Inceptor replied, "Society is a false concept defined by the masses. The 'rules' are fences they have built. The Lighthouse Society is a guiding light for those who refuse to be defined and desire to be the authors of their own lives rather than mere pawns. We do not provide cheap answers; we offer a crucible for sharpening thought and a map for exploring the inner universe."
Listen to that! "Author" and "inner universe"! The terminology they use is more deceptive than the overpriced self-help books I've read! I stifled my urge to scoff and continued to play the role of the gullible lamb.
I asked, "An author... exploring the inner universe... can this really be done? Can someone like me do it?"
The Inceptor responded, "You just used the word 'cog,' which is quite interesting. A cog implies passivity and replaceability. Yet even the smallest cog can influence the entire machine's operation by altering its structure. What you need to clear out is not external obstacles but the garbage information in your 'cognitive cache.' Tell me, Pathfinder, what cognitive barriers do you think need to be 'formatted'?"
"Cognitive cache"? "Format"? This metaphor carries a chilling sense of dehumanization that sends shivers down my spine. They truly are not an ordinary cult. Are they trying to optimize people like computer programs?
I needed to answer carefully, appearing "salvageable" while not revealing too much of my true thoughts.
I said, "The barrier... might be myself. My mind gets stuck sometimes; I can be particularly twisted and prone to self-doubt, always feeling like I'm failing at everything. I’m not very good at interacting with people; I feel out of place and quite lonely. Seeing others thriving makes me feel... suffocated inside, like I'm a total failure."
I painted myself as someone with high intelligence but low emotional intelligence, sensitive and fragile inside, craving recognition yet somewhat socially anxious. This type of person should be their favorite kind of "potential stock"—with some foundation, easy to control, and offering a sense of achievement when transformed.
The Inceptor said, "Self-doubt is the rust of rigid thinking. Loneliness arises from not being connected to the right network. The worldly 'thriving' is merely frantic activity driven by desire. Members of the Lighthouse Society pursue bandwidth in thought and dimensional elevation in consciousness. Here, you will connect to a brand new, high-frequency resonance network. You will no longer be lonely."
More talk about "network," "bandwidth," and "dimensional elevation"... These people are definitely connected to technology in some way, and it's not just any technology. I pushed down my wariness and began probing back.
I asked, "Lighthouse Society... sounds impressive. What kind of people are in it? What do you all usually talk about? I saw there are offline gatherings... um... is that safe? Will it...?"
I deliberately asked with hesitation and concern to fit the normal reaction of a newcomer.
The Inceptor replied, "Members of the Lighthouse Society come from various fields; their only commonality is their refusal to be part of the 'silent majority.' We share insights that penetrate through information fog and provide thinking tools for constructing personal core algorithms. Online, there are encrypted channels with different permissions and specialized discussion groups. Offline gatherings are higher-level 'energy field connections,' accessible only through mental refinement as a Lightkeeper. As for safety... Pathfinder, true safety comes from one's own strength rather than the kindness of the environment. When your cognition is sufficient to master reality, anywhere can be safe."
Circling around, yet still not speaking the truth. All these lofty-sounding but hollow concepts. "Energy field docking"? I almost thought I had entered some kind of cultivation channel.
Me: So… if someone feels it's not suitable midway and wants to withdraw, is that possible?
As I asked this question, I stared intently at the screen, my heart racing in my throat.
Inceptor: …Withdraw? Heh. Pathfinder, your question is quite interesting. The Lighthouse never forces anyone. But… why would a soul that longs for light and has already touched the doorknob want to turn back into darkness and fog? The door only opens inward. Don't you think?
His response was casual, even laced with a hint of amusement, but I felt a chill run down my spine. It sounded reasonable at first, but upon closer inspection, the implication of "you can't leave even if you want to" was glaringly obvious!
Inceptor: It seems your inner “Firewall” is still quite robust. That's fine; old programs are always hard to uninstall. It requires some… external commands.
Me: External commands?
Inceptor: Yes. Some small mental challenges or information verification tasks. They will help you break inertia and activate your dormant potential. It's like… overclocking your mental CPU.
Information verification? Here it comes again. I forced myself to stay calm.
Me: What kind of challenges? I'm… I'm afraid I won't do well.
Inceptor: The fact that you can pass the “Frequency verification” indicates that your “hardware configuration” is not low. Trust in the guidance of the Lighthouse, but more importantly, trust in your own untapped computational power. By the way…
He suddenly changed his tone to one that seemed casual, but all the hairs on my body stood on end!
Inceptor: Speaking of which, we have indeed welcomed a very special New Pathfinder recently. She’s quite similar to you, having accessed through a rather… well… deeply rooted code. Very young, yet her mind is as sharp as a blade, possessing an almost burning curiosity for certain ‘digital legacies’ left by her father. Today's youth are truly… astonishing and concerning at the same time.
My heart felt like it was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, nearly stopping altogether! Blood surged to my head and then quickly receded, leaving behind a cold numbness.
Young! Special code! Father’s digital legacy! Burning curiosity!
Who else could it be but Xiao Ya?!
"Where is she?! What have you done to her?!" The words exploded in my throat like a bomb, but I bit down hard on my tongue, the rusty taste of blood spreading through my mouth.
Calm down! Li Mo! Stay calm! This is definitely a test! He knows something! He might even know that I came for this girl!
I felt my fingers trembling, cold sweat trickling down my temples. I forced myself to take a deep breath, then another, and with all my strength, I controlled my shaking fingers to type a line of text on the keyboard. I deleted and revised it repeatedly, trying to mimic a tone that was both envious and slightly self-deprecating:
Me: Oh? Is that so? It seems there are quite a few people who are unwilling to accept their fate like me. She must be a genius, right? Impressive.
I even added a smiley face emoji, even though all I wanted to do was smash the computer.
Inceptor: Hehe, a genius is an unrefined gem, possibly also a firework destined for self-destruction. With immense potential, but too deep an obsession can easily burn oneself and disrupt the stability of the "network." However, being able to sense the existence of a lighthouse amidst the thick fog is itself a rare gift. Pathfinder, you possess this gift as well. Are you ready to embrace your first "Mind Refinement Task"? It will help you gain a clearer understanding of yourself and give you... the opportunity to glimpse higher-dimensional landscapes.
He avoided my probing questions about that girl and redirected the conversation back to the so-called "task."
How much does he really know? Is that girl truly Xiao Ya? Is she safe now, or has she already fallen under the control of this sinister organization? Where will this so-called "task" lead me?
I felt like I was making a deal with the devil, each step potentially leading to my doom.
On the other side of the screen, that cold Inceptor was like a spider spreading its web in the darkness, quietly and patiently waiting for me, the moth drawn into its trap.
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