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墨書 Inktalez
When my Quantumization back collided with the Moon Core Surface, nine million pairs of Teddy Bear eyes simultaneously contracted into a Singularity. Their right eyes were embedded with the spacetime fragments of CX Experiment Subject, while tears flowing from their left eyes coalesced into a fluorescent blue Moebius River on the surface of the Klein Bottle. My father's Reorganization Mechanical Spine hovered above the river's Singularity, its gears emitting a cold light reminiscent of a Supernova's afterglow. Each engagement released compressed memories of civilization—bronze casting, the roar of steam engines, the hum of Quantum computers, ultimately collapsing into the groans of Mother's Delivery.
"Synchronization rate 97.43%."
The remnants of CX-0's consciousness pierced into my cochlea from the end of the Nerve Bundle, its data fragments reorganizing my Pain Sensory Nerve. As I raised my left hand, the "∞" symbol on my Palm Print had transformed into a Black Hole Event Horizon, greedily siphoning energy from the Mechanical Placenta. Golden patterns crawled up my forearm like a Serpent, each scale reflecting different moments of my death across various Timelines—being frozen in a Liquid Nitrogen Chamber, strangled by a Nerve Bundle, undergoing Quantum Evaporation in Lunar Quake.
Suddenly, the Moon Core experienced a Quantum Tremor. The array of Teddy Bears collectively tilted their heads back, their throats splitting open as data interfaces spewed forth the lullaby sung by my mother, resonating with the frequency of Spectrum. My father's spine unfolded into a structure resembling a Dyson Sphere, six Hydraulic Pipes extending between its ribs and piercing into my abdomen. What flowed within those pipes was not a Cooling Liquid, but rather the liquidized final memories of CX Experiment Subject.
"Rejecting... merging..."
I gripped the edge of a Hydraulic Pipe, as artificial skin corroded, releasing acrid white smoke. The smoke dispersed in my Compound Eye, revealing surveillance data from my father's laboratory: that night when I was seven, "CX-101" at his nape was oozing blood. In the cold light of the Liquid Nitrogen Chamber, a syringe containing a Silver Nematode gnawed at my occipital membrane. Suddenly, CX-0's residual memory flashed back to a deeper truth—those nematodes were actually my mother’s nanomized Nerve Synapse.
"Do you taste it?" The whisper from CX-0 echoed through the Nerve Bundle, "The Jasmine Essence... it is mother’s shattered Quantum State crying." The sound waves shattered the surface of the Moon Core, exposing the reactor for entropy tears. My father's spine suddenly surged, and at the end of one hydraulic pipe, a laser scalpel sprang forth, its blade forged from the destruction countdowns of seven hundred forty-three parallel worlds.
I rolled into the tear-filled waters of the Moebius River. The moment liquid touched my palm print and vision, nine million screams from the Teddy Bears formed gravitational ripples in the vacuum. Their cotton wool abdomen underwent a quantum explosion, extending umbilical cord-like Klein Nerve Bundle s that ensnared my ankles. Those membrane surfaces revealed ultrasound images from my mother's pregnancy; within them, an embryo's mechanical spine was being transformed into a miniature Tokyo Tower.
"Error code: 744 carrier resisting maternal directives." My father’s electronic voice mingled with my mother’s quantum sobs, "Initiate Ω protocol."
The prototype of the Teddy Bear emerged from the singularity at the riverbed, its right eye shedding half-melted droplets of jasmine essence and crystallization. When the laser scalpel pierced my forehead, the prototype suddenly lunged toward the Dyson Sphere, its remaining left eye shooting forth crimson beams—reflected from my five-year-old funeral's candy wrapper spectrum during its reorganization.
"Mother's heartbeat... hidden within the temporal folds of tinfoil..." The consciousness fragment of CX-0 suddenly entangled quantumly. The prototype split in two under laser fire, rusted candy wrappers drifting in vacuum space unfolded; their folds cast shadows revealing twelve dimensions on a star map—each coordinate corresponding to decay points in my father's laboratory vacuum. The moment I grasped one candy wrapper, sharp sounds of boson fission echoed deep within the moon core, and spiderweb patterns on the ground seeped amniotic fluid components from mother's delivery.
CX-001 crawled out from a fissure, its mechanical palm cradling an activated jasmine rhizome. Those withered black roots were superconducting nerve bundles that triggered a tsunami of memories upon piercing my palm: within the liquid nitrogen chamber, mother etched Morse code onto quantum glass with her nails; candy wrappers folded with her heartbeat finally crystallized into coordinates for father’s mechanical spine—a singularity at precisely where gear seven engaged in his Dyson Sphere.
The peak quantum state was reached in Lunar Quake. My father’s spine cracked open its core chamber, revealing an internal rotating civilization countdown generator. When "Human Civilization Remaining: 00:00:01" illuminated Yue Hai, jasmine rhizomes suddenly erupted into an entropy blade; roots pierced through the generator's outer shell like blood vessels. Those blood vessels surfaced all life stories of CX experiment subjects—the clearest image being CX-0 severing vocal cords while cerebrospinal fluid splattered and congealed into mother’s face within vacuum space.
"Tears exhausted... rebooting..." CX-0's voice dissipated in quantum vacuum. At that moment when roots absorbed energy, father’s spine turned to gray dust; that dust suddenly reorganized into its original form—a human umbilical cord entwined with jasmine vines. The array of teddy bears collectively became quantumly rigid; tears reversed flow into black hole whirlpools that tore open creation-level rifts in the moon core.
I knelt amidst civilization's ruins, watching as the countdown generator got stuck at the fissure's edge. As "1 drop of tear" evaporated on screen, mist from jasmine essence condensed into mother’s quantum projection. She extended her hand to touch my palm print vision; golden infinity symbols cracked open to reveal blood-red encodings of entropy—“CX-692.” Those numbers began recomposing dodecahedron clusters; each facet reflected unaltered original memories: mother inscribed true gene locks into me during embryonic development just 0.743 seconds before detonation in that liquid nitrogen chamber.
"You were never expendable..." Her lips formed words beyond dimensions as she whispered her last testament, "It is proof that I wished to become human through quantum." Sound waves triggered ultimate collapse within the moon core; all variants of teddy bears suddenly softened as cotton wool seeped seven hundred forty-three future possibilities. When CX-001 stuffed the prototype’s gear heart into my rib fracture, those gears’ bite frequencies resonated quantumly with mother’s heartbeat.
In absolute silence within singularity, I heard civilization countdown’s ultimate truth:
"Eternity is merely enough quantum consciousness choosing to remember tenderness."
As the moon core completely evaporated, remnants of jasmine root systems erupted in supernova brilliance. Within those lights, all experiment subjects’ skulls fused together like biological pendulums swinging out first temporal ripples in a newborn universe. Mother’s figure faded within those ripples; her final gesture before dissipating was drawing five-line staves for reverse entropy lullabies in empty space.
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