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墨書 Inktalez
Reynold felt troubled by Creson's predicament. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't admit that he too had strongly advocated for a return, as it would upset the expedition's proposer; yet he also couldn't encourage Creson to lead everyone into danger. So when Creson's gaze sought his opinion, he could only say, "Personally, I have no preference. After all, I am responsible for everyone's safety, from beginning to end."
He tried hard not to focus on Creson's eyes but still noticed the pallor of his face. Unaware of the tension, Wenke and Fan Qing turned their attention to Creson.
"God, let me take a break," Creson muttered, his fingers digging deep into his hair as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples vigorously, as if there were no nerves in that area.
"I need some time to think about this. Yes, please give me a moment!"
Creson said wearily, avoiding eye contact with anyone as he hurried away.
Watching Creson's retreating figure, Fan Qing couldn't help but whisper, "What's wrong with the First Officer? He seems a bit off. He used to make decisions decisively; today…"
"You've certainly given him a tough problem," Reynold remarked meaningfully. "Let's allow him the quiet to make his own decision; all we need is patience."
Wenke called out nonchalantly, "By the way, are you all going for dinner? The steak today is really good."
However, that day, no one had much appetite aside from watching.
Reynold found himself in a dilemma. He observed another significant fluctuation in Creson's brainwaves. From his perspective, each fluctuation indicated an internal conflict within Creson. At this rate, his nerves would undoubtedly face immense strain. Yet Reynold couldn't fully explain the various aspects of these fluctuations.
Would things have been better if it weren't for Fan Qing's suggestion?
Glancing at the recorded brainwave patterns on the monitor, he was surprised to discover that the fluctuations exhibited two distinct characteristics. Some were completely erratic and chaotic; seeing them felt like witnessing a bloody and tumultuous battle. Others appeared so orderly, as if they were the normal thoughts of a person at work.
He carefully observed these brainwave patterns; the fluctuations showed strong regularity. Reynold was perplexed: such well-structured brainwaves typically only occur when a person is in a meditative state.
He had previously stated that Creson's behavior belonged to the subconscious. He still held onto that assertion. One thing he was certain of was that a person's brain in a meditative state should not be disturbed by external factors; during meditation, one can only perceive information from within. Thus, any external elements must originate from the subconscious mind.
But this remained merely speculation.
So, is it beneficial or harmful?
It's hard to say, Reynold thought as he cradled his head, but at least it disrupted Creson's usual train of thought. From the perspective of commanding the entire ship, it was indeed a harmful thing.
There were too many unknowns.
For the first time, Reynold activated the comprehensive disc system he always carried with him. He had never used it before. Over the next six hours, he immersed himself deeply in it, seeking clarity. He read through all the potentially useful chapters in the book; yes, the knowledge was clear, but when he returned to reality, he felt lost once again.
He resolved to visit Creson again.
"If you insist on asking, I can tell you: several times, in a haze, I could hear a monotonous sound, like a call. But when I woke up, I often forgot what that sound was trying to tell me. Perhaps that sound itself is an illusion?" Creson turned his face away from gazing at the black wilderness and looked at the captain with tired eyes. "However, it has left traces."
"Traces? What do you mean?"
"It has made me understand more profoundly the relationship between humans and nature. Now when I look at the starry sky, I am no longer just satisfied with admiration; I wish to dominate them."
"Dominate? What does that mean?"
"I'm just quoting. I'm not quite sure for now. But I think that as the spirit of all things, humans should be familiar with the world they inhabit, discover the various wonders of nature, and thus dominate these wonders. In doing so, humanity itself creates even greater miracles. Perhaps this is what it has taught me."
Reynold's brain began to feel foggy.
"I know this is hard for you to understand; in fact, I don't fully grasp it myself, yet it's deeply rooted in my mind. I once doubted it, but now I believe."
Reynold felt a surge of emotion. "It? What exactly is it?"
"I can't explain it either."
"Then it's merely a product of your subconscious or imagination!"
"I don't think that's possible." Creson's tone was firm for this one statement. "Because I feel that it possesses wisdom far beyond my own."
"Where does it manifest?"
"At least, it nearly dominates me."
Reynold gazed into Creson's eyes, as if trying to discern everything within. Unfortunately, he could not understand.
"Alright. Let's not talk about that. Let's discuss Fan Qing's suggestion. Are you having a hard time deciding?"
"I used to," Creson replied with a bitter smile, "but not anymore. Soon everyone will know that I have decided to return 48 hours early." With that, Creson gently walked away.
A shiver ran through Reynold; Creson's smile was so heavy, so helpless.
That very night, Reynold saw Creson's decision to return early on the electronic message board in his cabin. He thought that Wenke and Fan Qing must have seen it too. However, faced with this decision, what stirred within Reynold was an even greater sense of tension and unease.
"I must decipher its meaning!"
The strongest thought in Reynold's mind upon returning to his cabin was the secret of breaking boundaries. Although it was somewhat unethical, it was indeed necessary.
His gaze lingered on the brainwave patterns, unwilling to leave.
"Perhaps even Creson himself might not fully understand what has happened, so I must investigate personally to uncover the truth. But where should I start?"
Reynold knew well that this would be extremely difficult.
The medical field had never had a reliable means of probing the complex inner world through brainwaves (in fact, was there even a need?).
While medicine could determine a person's basic emotions based on the patterns of brainwaves and other physiological characteristics, it was ultimately limited and vague. How could one exhaustively analyze it?
In other words, it was fundamentally impossible to analyze and judge a person's thoughts based solely on the waveform characteristics of brainwaves. The number of characteristic values was astronomical, with many subtle differences; even fuzzy recognition technology could not completely separate them.
"But now I can only try my luck." Reynold searched for a breakthrough to translate brainwaves into a language understandable by others. He took note of the actual environment.
Clearly, his focus was on those regular brainwaves.
His primary assumption was that Creson's thinking in this state was extremely simple. Even if hallucinations occurred, they were likely to be just simple flashes or basic shapes; even if auditory hallucinations emerged, they would probably be monotonous and vague sounds. As long as this was the case, the problem could be significantly simplified.
Reynold's fingers flew across the keyboard of his personal computer.
In the large cabin, only the monotonous sound of keystrokes flowed rapidly.
"I need a program," Reynold calmly typed. Driven by his unique position and psychological motivations, he was eager to understand what exactly was affecting Creson's nerves and how it was doing so. He was determined to use a special method to probe into that unique way of thinking. This time, he was essentially playing a supporting role as captain, but he knew this was only temporary; once this mission was completed, they would regain their memories and he would once again become the true captain.
Now, Reynold had retrieved the brainwave database he had previously contributed to from the computer. The recorded brainwave characteristics were astonishing numbers. However, even so, the corresponding content of the brainwaves was extremely limited.
Reynold tirelessly tapped away at the keyboard, tirelessly establishing connections with the database, tirelessly feeding brainwave curves into the computer… This was even more troublesome than creating something from scratch.
When he finally had everything ready and the computer began to whir wildly, Wenke burst into his cabin like a lion, shouting at him:
"Captain, something's happened to Creson!"
Wenke was right.
Something had indeed happened to Creson, to be precise, he had fallen ill.
Fan Qing stood guard beside Falk, wearing a tight protective suit in an isolation room where no one was allowed inside. The newly arrived Reynold and Tlat could only watch anxiously from outside through the glass.
Seeing this made Reynold anxious; he quickly searched for a protective suit and donned it as fast as possible. Then he hurried into the disinfection area, lifting his arms like a puppet and spinning around a few times as blue and white mist sprayed over him. Once the mist dissipated, he impatiently walked over to Fan Qing.
"What’s going on?! Fan Qing."
"I'm not sure yet; but it doesn't look good. Creson seems to have contracted a virus."
Reynold was taken aback; he felt this came too suddenly. Creson's gaze was already somewhat disordered, his spirit scattered, with his cheeks pale and seemingly covered by a layer of harsh frost. His curled-up body trembled violently from time to time, despite the cabin being as warm as spring.
"I don't know how Falk ended up in the Sampling Chamber," Fan Qing began before Captain Reynold could ask. "This morning, I caught a small-scale comet with a diameter of at least three meters using the collector. At that time, I was alone conducting sampling and analysis, so I didn't pay attention to anything else, and the comet blocked my view. When I discovered the First Officer, he was already unconscious on the floor. I quickly brought him here and called Wenke to get you. I didn’t notice when Creson entered the Sampling Chamber, and he wasn’t even wearing a protective suit. I can hardly imagine."
"Cold? The cold shouldn't be that severe..." Reynold muttered to himself.
"It’s not the cold," Fan Qing paused, opening a small freezer beside her and taking out a glass container filled with something crystalline. "Because I found this in his hand."
A comet? Reynold's eyes widened. The ice crystals from those comets sparkled like tiny diamonds, clear and exquisite.
A chill rose from the depths of Reynold's heart.
"You mean he came into contact with the comet? He touched the material of the Ice Comet without any protection?"
Fan Qing nodded. "So, I sent him to the isolation room."
Reynold glanced back at Creson: Brother, you actually came into contact with the Ice Comet.
A scene flashed in his mind: Creson stood before the comet with a reluctant expression, reaching out to grasp its ice crystals.
Some shattered ice crystals scattered across the floor, and along with them, Creson slowly slipped away while holding onto his beloved treasure...
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