This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 625: We are neither the best nor the worst

Chapter 625: Chapter 625: We are neither the best nor the worst

When Chu Guang discovered the communication module overload at Shelter No. 100, his almost reflexive judgment was that a similar situation to that of Shelter No. 79 had occurred—a tomb meant for eternal slumber wandered by restless, lingering spirits.

However, the final outcome was beyond his expectations.

According to information exchanged by players on the forum, the overload of the communication module wasn’t the result of human intervention he had imagined, but rather because the ignition of the fusion reactor had caused the life monitoring module to restart and awaken the slumbering artificial intelligence, leading to the continuation of the "Dome Self-destruct Program" that had been terminated a century and a half ago.

Fortunately, his clever players made use of the clues left by the "Grave Guard" and successfully expanded the detection range of the life monitoring sensors. This prompted the AI Manager to classify the bugs within the refuge as the descendants of the refuge’s residents, thereby halting the Dome Self-destruct Program.

The rest was simple.

Once they repaired the communication module and regained managerial access, then thoroughly purged the mountain of bugs left in the database from the sixty-year contest between "Tree Man" and "Worker Ants," the shelter could return to normal operations.

After two centuries, this refuge was no longer suited to serve as a casting well, at least not until the bugs inside were dealt with; it needed to continue existing as a shelter.

When the time was right, the Alliance would decide anew on the use of this shelter.

Yet, there remained a hint of doubt in Chu Guang’s heart regarding this refuge.

Apart from the supervisor named Klerg, who died in the shelter as a human, where had the other 110 residents, who uploaded their minds onto circuit boards, gone?

He had not found any trace of these 110 residents in the refuge’s database.

They could not have possibly vanished from the shelter into thin air after uploading their minds onto the circuit boards.

As Chu Guang pondered, he suddenly remembered something—when his players first entered Shelter No. 100, Xiao Qi had mentioned that the terminal by the door had a record of being accessed in the year 2190.

was the 61st year of the Wasteland Era.

That year was precisely when the life signals of the last survivor of this refuge—the supervisor named Klerg—disappeared from the shelter...

...

Shelter No. 101.

Days later, Chu Guang paid another visit to Dr. Method, with their meeting still at the same café they previously rendezvoused at.

However, unlike last time, the café, tucked away in a bustling corner of town, was nearly full. Chu Guang only spotted Dr. Method waving at him from a niche near the cabinets in the back of the store, so he walked over.

"This way."

Approaching Dr. Method, Chu Guang pulled out the chair directly opposite him to sit down and got straight to the point.

"Thank you for the password. The legacy of Shelter No. 100 is like sending charcoal in snowy weather for us, especially that plasma engine."

Hearing Chu Guang’s thanks, Dr. Method smiled slightly, picked up the cup of coffee on the table, took a sip, and said in a pleased tone,

"Is that so? I’m glad to have been able to help you. I think the residents of Shelter No. 100 would also be relieved, knowing that someone is continuing the mission they left unfulfilled."

Chu Guang sighed softly.

"We tried to gather the materials using that Black Box to produce a prototype and then disassembled the produced prototype. Unfortunately, our engineers couldn’t fully digest the technology and more so, found no way to produce it beyond the Black Box. We can only design a suitable aircraft around that prototype and battery."

Dr. Method’s face showed no surprise but instead offered comfort to Chu Guang sitting in front of him,

"That’s very normal. With your current conditions, attempting to produce such a thing on your own is a pipe dream. You lack not only the technology itself but also the hardware conditions necessary to materialize it. There’s no need to worry about something you cannot complete. The Black Box is sufficient to help you transition from ’having nothing’ to ’knowing the how and why.’ What you need to do is to tread carefully on the path before you, one step at a time."

As he said this, Dr. Method seemed to remember something else, and added jokingly,

"Of course, there’s also the alternative possibility that until the end, those Black Boxes will remain a mystery to you, transforming from a tool of assistance to an addiction you can’t shake."

"I’ll be vigilant to prevent that from happening."

Chu Guang left that remark hanging for a brief moment, tapped his index finger against his left arm twice, and quickly a holographic interface materialized before him.

Seeing the holographic image Chu Guang pushed in front of him, Dr. Method raised an eyebrow slightly.

"What’s this?"

Chu Guang spoke succinctly.

"It’s not just the Black Box and Administrator’s Log that our residents found in the refuge but also records left by the ’Tree,’ ’Tree Man,’ and ’Worker Ants.’ They attempted to compile the history of Shelter No. 100 over the last sixty-three years."

In fact, he had simply copied and pasted the content discussed by the players on the forum, omitting some subjective evaluations while leaving the more objective parts.

Dr. Method, clearly interested, extended his index finger and dragged the holographic screen closer, flipping through a couple of pages.

"...Interesting."

He looked up at Chu Guang and said with an amused tone,

"...So in the end, to the eyes of the Tree Man, Worker Ants who would rather turn themselves into bugs to escape didn’t truly become bugs, nor did they really escape the refuge. Even that poor soul who lived until the end in the lower levels, the ’foolish one who would tear down his house just to get out,’ actually ended up saving the refuge he hated so much by allowing the bugs to consume him."

"This is just too ironic," he said.

"I think if Klerg were still alive, he’d be beside himself with laughter, and might even mock that poor sap—had they not chosen to hide in the cold-storage rooms rather than destroy the refuge, Shelter 100 would not have ended up like this. A bunch of lowly insects, even doing something insignificant at the end of their lives is not enough for them to atone for their sins!"

As he said this, he slightly raised his voice, as though he wasn’t having a private conversation, but speaking to someone sitting in the noisy cafe.

Or perhaps voicing someone’s inner thoughts.

Chu Guang noticed someone sitting not too far away clench their fist on the table, then slowly relax it.

Considering the amused expression on Method’s face, Chu Guang was certain of his guess, this guy had seen that Klerg.

Through the terminal at the entrance.

After a moment of contemplation, he shared his own opinion.

"My view is different from yours. To me, an outsider, whether Tree Man or Worker Ant, they are all residents of Shelter 100. Some of them sought power and wanted to turn the shelter into a permanent prison while others were willing to destroy the entire shelter for freedom."

"They resorted to the most extreme and deadliest means against each other in the conflict, turning the rules originally set for their protection into tools of persecution. That is, to me, the reason they ultimately marched towards destruction."

"In fact, everything they did was in accordance with the rules of their time, whether it was hiding their life signs to trigger the dome’s self-destruct mechanism, or exploiting a bug in the system to overload the reactor and cut the power. Unfathomable deaths, no one thought to fix these longstanding safety hazards, but instead kept them like nuclear bombs to be used against others."

"Typically, residents of the refuge wouldn’t collectively crawl into cold storage, nor would the fusion reactor overload. They performed operations the designer never foresaw, resulting in tens of thousands of deaths and a shutdown that lasted over a century."

He paused for a moment, and seeing Method gesture for him to continue, Chu Guang spoke on with the tone of casual conversation.

"That guy who claimed to be the Grave Guard actually realized in the end that they were all a part of the refuge, both themselves and those high and mighty overseers. Tree Man didn’t descend from a non-existent tree; he was born from among them. And their demise is not the foolishness of any one person, but a responsibility that all bear."

"From the perspective of an outsider, I think his actions at the very end of his life are enough to atone for himself. Shelter No. 404 will take over the torch from their hands, carrying on with their memories, continuing forward to fulfill the mission they momentarily forgot."

As he said this, Chu Guang’s face bore a hint of regret.

Although the refuge was saved.

It clearly wasn’t the perfect ending.

He paused, then continued.

"...Of course, if that Tree Man who lived until the end had taken a moment in the 61st year of the Wasteland Era, to go down to the very bottom of the shelter and spend a few minutes understanding what had happened there, perhaps it wouldn’t take us more than a hundred years later to close the book on their grudges."

The answer had already been written.

Copying it was not a difficult task.

Even in a language barrier that required a translator, players from the Alliance still managed to decipher the testament left behind by the last surviving "Worker Ant," using the clues they had and making educated guesses. With the last key he made with his life, they shut down the systemic error that could have collapsed the entire shelter.

Just then, a choked voice came from a nearby table.

"Klerg... that guy definitely wouldn’t mock him... if he knew what that person had done."

The words seemed to be squeezed out through clenched teeth.

Chu Guang looked in the direction of the voice, only to see a man in a gray jacket, his back to them, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

It wasn’t just him.

Others were the same.

Intermittent sobs drifted from another direction.

"I remember that kid... became a supervisor in ’53, still in his early twenties."

"He loved that place more than anyone, and I remember him saying... after everything was over, he wanted to open a museum in the refuge, to tell stories of the past to the young folks of the New People’s Alliance."

"Damn... why didn’t that guy come to find me! Why not use my body? I had already decided to give up the flesh! Just take mine and use it!"

At some point, the previously lively cafe had lost its cheerful ambiance, faces filled with blank despair, unspeakable sadness, and eyes closed with regret.

It seems, as he had guessed—

The 110 residents who uploaded their minds to the "Great Tree" did not rest eternally in Shelter 100, but in the 61st year of the Wasteland Era, someone took them from that now hopeless shelter.

That person was Method.

He created a comprehensive technology recycling system for the Post-War Reconstruction Committee Technical Department, almost devoting his entire life to it. Disappointed, he left the Grand Canyon in the 45th year of the Wasteland Era, heading south on a path radically different from the Academy.

Shelter 101 was obviously not the first shelter he visited; the access records left at the terminal outside the main gate of Shelter 100 over a hundred years ago were left by him!

Meeting Chu Guang’s inquiring gaze, Method did not offer any explanation. He simply sipped his coffee lightly, just as Chu Guang had done when he first entered.

Then, he uttered a meaningful sentence.

"What do you think is the best ending for them?"

Chu Guang pondered for a moment before speaking.

"Every part fulfills its original function."

Method asked, "What do you mean?"

Chu Guang replied concisely,

"It’s just as it sounds. ’Tree’ as the Manager, supervising is supervising, and residents are residents. They actually got off to a pretty decent start, and the situation in other shelters may have started off much worse than theirs. However, in practice, they completely deviated from their original conception. Those residents closest to the Tree have become the ’Tree People, dependent on the Tree, while those farthest from the Tree have become something no longer human."

"Everyone playing their role, huh? You’re talking about the most ideal situation, but actually operationalizing it might be an entirely different story," Dr. Method said with a light smile as he set down his coffee cup. "Like the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, believe it or not, it was the best method at the time. Never before had so many people of different statuses dedicated themselves completely and unreservedly to the same cause. Without it, this planet might have ’died’ by now. Even so, it only lasted for 45 years."

Chu Guang stated plainly,

"I know, the worst choices are the easiest ones to make while the best choices are always the most difficult. Therefore, we will not become them."

Dr. Method raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Then what kind are you?"

As he stood up from the coffee table,

Chu Guang, sensing it was time to leave, glanced at the remaining residents of Shelter No. 100 who were inconsolable yesterday and answered Dr. Method’s question,

"We fall in between."

"Neither the best nor the worst."

...

The excavation work at Shelter No. 100 had concluded, and twenty-two Black Boxes had been sequentially recovered from within the shelter. Along with these were numerous mechanical devices also transported out.

Shelter No. 100 left behind an impressive technological inheritance, particularly including the "Buprestis" engineering armor series of construction devices, which are more suitable for working in complex terrains than the commonly used "KV" and "Miner" series exoskeletons by the Alliance. They could even completely forgo scaffolding and other auxiliary equipment, climbing and working on nearly vertical construction surfaces.

Since the original supervisors of No.100 had planned to spend their lives underground, for a long time, the shelter focused on the question of "how to transform the environment to be more habitable using limited resources and space."

In addition to that were the creatures called Crunchy.

Their genetic origin seems to be the buprestid beetle, but their DNA had been so transformed that not even their mothers would recognize them. They could very well be treated as an entirely new species.

Their shed shells are a quality source of chitin material, suitable for producing ballistic panels made from composite materials for exoskeletons, and also for the production of carbon-based integrated circuits.

The database in Shelter No. 100 contains all the experimental data on these chitin materials as well as the complete industrial applications.

According to that information, the Alliance could treat the chitin materials stockpiled in the shelter’s atrium as if they were ores.

Considering that over six million insects were active there, the place would likely serve as a biological mine for the Alliance for a lengthy period.

Meanwhile, an ecological impact analysis on the "Crunchy" was concurrently underway.

According to the Alliance’s biologists, due to the unique ecosystem of West State City, including the Mutated Water Frog, Battleship Shrimp, and even Crack Claw Crab, all these creatures are natural predators of "Crunchy," therefore this species had not spread to the Wasteland outside West State City like the Claw of Death.

However, precisely because of this, "Crunchy" that have survived in harsh environments have become more aggressive than they were a hundred years ago, and the stingers hidden in their abdomens have become even sharper.

At the moment, the Biological Institute of the Alliance, taking into account the suggestions from Shelter No. 404, officially named the "Crunchy" found in the Wasteland Era of the year 213 as Ghost-faced Insect and began further exploration into the biological technology contained within and the industrial value of their shells.

In short, the novel gadgets recovered from Shelter No. 100 were enough to keep the various research institutions and production units of the Alliance busy for an entire year.

Shelter No. 100 camp.

Looking at the machines that piled up like small hills in the warehouse, I Max Black couldn’t help but let out a sigh of emotion.

"Is there not even one normal shelter on this wasteland?"

The scientific research team needed to appraise the value of these graverobbing props, and then calculate the rewards gained by the Storm Corps in this operation.

This work would take several days.

Although the passwords and coordinates of the shelters were provided for the mission, what they did was merely the easy work of prying off the coffin boards, but the credit for saving the shelters was still attributed to them, and the final Silver coin and Contribution Points rewards were unlikely to disappoint.

As for the commander of the Corps, Brother Spring Water, he also credited the players who ventured deep into the dungeon with great merit.

Hearing the complaints from Brother I Max Black, Spring Water laughed with a "hehe."

"Is it possible that normal shelters simply don’t need us to grave-rob because they’ve already completed their original plans over the past two centuries, either joining the survivor settlements on the surface or becoming settlements themselves?"

Setting aside the bizarre stuff from the Enlightenment Society, Giant Stone City has been continuously joined by Blue Jackets after fifty years of the Wasteland Era.

Apart from that, the origins of corporations are also shelters, and they were single-digit numbered ones.

Not to mention the Alliance itself, which has revived a number of shelters that were originally failing.

"Survivor’s bias, huh?"

I Max Black sighed, his gaze suddenly falling on the metal sphere riding a machine spider beside him, and he couldn’t help but continue with a chuckle.

"So why did you come out too?"

Bell, mounted on the back of the machine spider, rolled its head in discontent.

"You’re asking me? I want to ask you! Didn’t we agree that I was to be a guide in the museum? So, where exactly is the Alliance’s museum, and how long do I have to stay in this godforsaken place?"

I Max Black looked at it with a weird expression.

Let this guy be a museum guide...

Could they really sell tickets?

At that moment, footsteps sounded from outside the door.

The two people and one AI in the room almost simultaneously looked toward the door to see a stranger standing there.

It wasn’t just him; behind him trailed a large, sparse group of people, about a hundred in number.

They were wearing blue jackets, but their skin was a glossless gray, like mannequins left in old, dusty display windows.

Without a doubt, they were bionic people.

However, it was as if they had made the features of the bionic people deliberately obvious, to the point of being abrupt. They all had bald heads, and even their facial features were just perfunctory outlines.

It was exactly how Frost and Solar Eclipse looked when they first arrived at the Alliance.

Looking at the man standing at the door, I Max Black hesitated for a moment before blurting out a question.

"Who are you?"

"My name is... Gugel," the man seemed to need some time to remember his own name and placed his hand over his chest in a slight bow, "We are survivors from Shelter No. 100."

I Max Black was momentarily baffled, Spring Water Commander was too, their faces simultaneously showing a look of surprise.

As for Bell, it was staring at the man with wide eyes.

"Gugel?! It’s you? You... actually came back? Strange. My master said the cowards all died, and he was about to die as well, so why are you alive again!?"

Watching Bell babbling ceaselessly, Gugel’s abstract features showed a touch of sadness as he sighed lightly, as if unwilling to recall too much, and turned to look at I Max Black and Spring Water Commander.

"The people of this camp told me I could find you here, and through you, find that Manager."

The Spring Water Commander steadied herself, her expression odd as she asked,

"What is it... that you want with him?"

"We wish to see him once again," the man called Gugel paused for a moment, his tone sincere as he continued,

"We originally planned to rest eternally in Shelter No. 101, but that place can no longer house our restless, guilty souls."

"So we thought, instead of spending our remaining time in penance, why not fulfill the unachieved wishes of our comrades who died because of us."

"If you’re planning to rebuild the Wasteland, our knowledge should prove somewhat useful. It may alleviate a bit of the torment in our hearts."

"We hope he will take us in!"

Spring Water opened her mouth to say something, but a clear voice suddenly carried from not far outside the door.

"The Alliance is not a charity; we do not take in just anyone."

Everyone turned toward the source of the voice.

There, in the sunlight, stood an azure power armor, smiling as it looked at the crowd gathered at the warehouse entrance.

"But—"

As Spring Water had anticipated, there was a twist in his next words.

"...anyone who sincerely wishes to end the Wasteland and is determined to contribute their strength towards it of their own volition is welcome to join us!"

"Whether they are alive or already deceased."

Chu Guang extended his right hand, his expression subtly moved by the sight of Gugel.

"Welcome, survivors of Shelter No. 100."

"Tell me what work you are best at, and then we can begin!"

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