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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 10: Subcutaneous Phantom and Synchronized Command
“... issued through the implanted Neural Interface. Maintain receiving status.”
Neural Interface?! Implanted?!
These words pierced my temples like burning needles, instantly igniting the tension in my nerves to a breaking point!
I jolted upright from the chair as if electrocuted, blood rushing to my head, and my vision blurred momentarily before a chilling cold washed over me!
What the hell is this?! When was it implanted?! Where was it implanted?!
I felt like a completely unhinged madman, screaming as I tore at my clothes, rushing to the stained, cracked mirror, eyes wide with bloodshot panic as I frantically examined my body. My arms, neck, behind my ears, scalp, even the soles of my feet... I scratched and dug at every inch of skin with my nails, desperately searching for any suspicious trace—a tiny scar, an imperceptible bump, an oddly colored red spot, or even just a pinprick smaller than a pore!
Nothing! Damn it, there’s nothing!
My skin felt as rough as before, still dull from lack of sleep and nutrition. Apart from a few scabs from where toxic vines had scraped me in the abandoned factory, there were no new or abnormal markings to be found!
But this was more terrifying than finding a clear implant!
The absence of physical evidence meant that the technology they used had surpassed anything I could comprehend! Was it nanobots? Biological probes transmitted through the air? Or had something been injected into me without my knowledge—perhaps when I interacted with Sister Wang or used tools provided by Old K?
No! Wait! I remembered! The abandoned factory! Those thorny vines! Some of the scratches were particularly deep! And... I suddenly looked at the inner side of my left wrist, near my pulse. There was a shallow scratch there that I had accidentally grazed. I pressed down on that area of skin; it seemed... there was an extremely faint sensation of tingling like static electricity that flickered for just a moment? I pressed again but felt nothing. Was it an illusion? Or just a normal reaction as the wound healed? Or... could this be where they implanted the “interface”?
I felt like an extra thrown into a sci-fi horror film, my body no longer my own private property. Beneath my skin lurked an invisible and intangible Subcutaneous Phantom that could receive commands precisely and might even monitor everything about me!
“Maintain receiving status…”
This command echoed in my ears and even in my mind like an unshakeable curse. Every hair on my body stood on end as I instinctively wanted to flee this room, escape any environment that could be monitored. But where could I go? If that thing was truly inside me...
A wave of intense nausea crashed over me as I rushed into the bathroom, leaning over the filthy toilet, retching. My stomach felt like it was being gripped by a hand, spasming without producing anything but the bitter bile that burned my throat.
It’s over. This time, it’s really over.
I slumped onto the cold, damp tiles, feeling that all my previous struggles and calculations, that self-righteous “message in a bottle,” seemed so childish and ridiculous in light of that casually uttered phrase, “Neural Interface has been implanted.” Did they know all along? Were they mocking my naivety through this interface?
Despair enveloped me like icy, viscous seawater, drowning me and robbing me of my last breath.
The next twenty-four hours became the longest, darkest, and most twisted day of my life.
I drifted aimlessly like a soulless husk in this vacuum prison. I dared not sleep or close my eyes, nor think too much about “negative” things—God knows if this thing could not only receive commands but also upload my thoughts.
I felt an unprecedented aversion and fear towards my own body. It seemed as if tiny electric currents were coursing beneath my skin, and a high-pitched buzzing lingered in my head. Especially at that suspicious spot on my left wrist, where a faint tingling would occasionally remind me of its presence. I even began to doubt whether my extreme fear and anxiety on the brink of collapse were magnified or induced by that “interface.”
I had completely turned into a marionette, with even the autonomy of my emotions potentially stripped away. This was more cruel than killing me outright.
I forced myself to act like a machine, consuming small pieces of compressed biscuits and sipping water at regular intervals to maintain the bare minimum of life signs. Like a paranoid person, I replayed every detail from when I took on the case until now—every person I had encountered, every unusual occurrence—trying to pinpoint the exact moment and method of implantation. But the clues were tangled and chaotic, offering no direction.
Time crawled at a torturous pace amidst extreme panic, self-doubt, and an unfamiliarity with my own body.
Finally, just as I felt my sanity was about to snap like a burnt-out light bulb, that strange sensation descended upon me.
Not through any external senses.
It was an experience… indescribable, directly affecting my consciousness.
Like a stream of cold data or rather an undeniable “thought command package,” it was brutally and forcibly “written” into my brain.
The command had been issued. The Frequency Tuning Task was initiated.
This line of information etched itself into my core consciousness like a laser—cold, precise, carrying an inhuman, absolute sense of authority.
Immediately, more fragments of information surged in like a waterfall, crashing against my fragile understanding:
[Objective: Newly appointed Pathfinder, codename “Cicada.” Current status: Cognitive Redundancy, Frequency unstable.]
[Location: South City, Galaxy Shopping Center, third floor, outdoor café.]
[Time: Tomorrow afternoon from 14:00 to 14:30.]
[Contact method: Carry the designated token (a 1998 edition one-yuan coin with a plum blossom design, featuring a small scratch on the back), and place it in the upper left corner of the café table. Wait for the target to actively recognize and make contact.]
[Task core: “Frequency Tuning.” Observe the target's behavior and speech, assess the nature and degree of their “redundancy.” Guide them through non-coercive conversation, attempting to pull their thought Frequency back to the “Lighthouse” reference frame. Any form of physical coercion or direct commands is strictly prohibited.]
[Reminder: You are a “Calibration Node,” as well as an “observation sample.” Your behavior patterns, stress responses, and deviations in executing commands are all within the evaluation scope. Remain calm and follow the guidelines. Any deviation could lead to unpredictable consequences.]
The flow of information abruptly ceased.
My brain felt as if it had been formatted, leaving a blank slate filled only with a buzzing echo.
Cicada? It’s definitely her! Xiao Ya!
Galaxy Shopping Center? The busiest place around! What do they want? A public execution? Or are they using the crowd as cover for surveillance?
A 1998 plum blossom one-yuan coin? And it must have a small scratch on the back? This token is way too specific! Where am I supposed to find that?! Isn’t this a test in itself?
My task... "Frequency Tuning"? "Reverting to the Baseline Reference Frame"? It sounds so grand, but isn't it just asking me to brainwash Xiao Ya?! To become a mental executioner?! To turn me into a cog in their disgusting machine?!
And what about that "detailed guidance strategy will be delivered in real-time"? Damn it! My mind will be like a live broadcast, constantly filled with that ghostly voice telling me what expressions to use and what tone to adopt?!
Am I really... am I really becoming an actor controlled remotely by someone else's brainwaves?!
A wave of nausea and immense humiliation surged up my throat, and I quickly covered my mouth, gagging.
No! Absolutely not! I can't do this! I can't hurt Xiao Ya! I can't become a tool for these perverts!
But... the line in the instructions that said "any deviation may lead to unpredictable consequences" pierced through me like an ice pick. If I refuse or mess up, what will they do to me? More importantly, what will they do to Xiao Ya? Will she suffer even harsher "calibration" because of my "non-cooperation"?
This is a dead end! A meticulously designed trap forcing me to gamble my soul!
Going along with it means aiding their cruelty, feeling guilty, and possibly exposing my backup plan completely.
Not going means standing by while others suffer and could accelerate both my and Xiao Ya's destruction.
What should I do?! What on earth should I do?!
I collapsed onto the ground, my hands buried in my hair, feeling utterly torn apart.
But... amidst this boundless despair, a faint, almost insane thought suddenly flickered in my mind.
The instructions stated, "Guide through non-coercive dialogue," and "any form of physical coercion or direct orders is strictly prohibited." Does this mean that on the level of "language," I still have a tiny bit... of space to maneuver?
"Detailed guidance strategy will be delivered in real-time"... this means my brain will be quite "busy." If... if I could find a way in the gaps between those overwhelming commands or while executing them, to convey some completely opposite message through subtle expressions, glances, or even some minuscule detail that might resonate only between me and Xiao Ya?
Risk? It was beyond imagination! That damned "Neural Interface" hung over my brain like a guillotine, ready to catch any hint of "cognitive bias" in an instant.
But! This was the only way to possibly reach Xiao Ya, to convey a signal of "I am on your side," and perhaps even find a glimmer of hope for a breakthrough!
I couldn't follow their script completely! Even if I had to dance with shackles, I would create my own rhythm!
I suddenly stood up, walked to the window, and yanked open the curtain that resembled a shroud!
Blinding sunlight flooded in, illuminating the dust in the room and revealing the bloodshot state of my eyes.
Outside, the city continued its noisy existence, vibrant and unyielding.
Yet my world had already plunged into an abyss.
Tomorrow at 2 PM, Galaxy Shopping Center, third-floor outdoor café.
Frequency Tuning. Codename "Cicada."
Xiao Ya, if it's you, wait for me.
I don't know if I can save you, but I swear I will not be the knife that harms you.
Even if it means being shattered to pieces, I will take a bite out of these bastards!
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