Chapter 289: Brightness Code

Lighting Administrator-9's workstation is on the second underground level of the Memory Archive, a cramped compartment without windows.

Her form is a cluster of autonomously floating light filaments—a bundle of seventy-three pale silver filaments, each controlling the lighting system of a different area. For 1,400 years, she has kept the illumination of all corridors in Zone Three at 500 lux, with an error no greater than ±2%. Too bright wastes energy; too dim reduces work efficiency; 500 lux is the precisely calculated optimum.

Each day, she "sits" before her workstation (in reality, she hovers in a fixed position), facing three hundred seventy-two monitoring screens that display real-time illumination data for every corridor. Her light filaments sway slightly with the data fluctuations, like waterweed.

Everything is regulated, precise, and uneventful.

Until yesterday at 3:48 a. m., the illumination reading on the monitor for the Seventh Corridor suddenly jumped to 498 lux.

It lasted only 0.3 seconds before returning to 500.

The system log marked it as a "momentary sensor fault," but Lighting Administrator-9 knew it wasn't—at that instant, her light filaments collectively tilted left by 3 degrees.

This is her biological instinctive reaction, a response she herself doesn't understand why it exists: when she sees the illumination drop below the standard value by an integer difference of 2, her light filaments veer left.

She retrieved the data from the past thirty days.

She discovered a pattern:

Every seven days, the illumination in the Seventh Corridor exhibits a momentary fluctuation to 498 lux sometime between 3:47 a. m. and 3:51 a. m.

The duration of the fluctuation is increasing: first 0.3 seconds, second 0.5 seconds, third 0.7 seconds…

Today should be the fourth occurrence, with a predicted duration of 0.9 seconds.

This is not a malfunction.

This is a signal.

At 2 a. m., Old Zhao was stir-frying rice cakes.

"Savory pickled vegetable and shredded meat rice cakes," he said while stir-frying, "They give you strength. We'll be working soon."

Han Qing's scar lingered with low heat, as if warming up some precision instrument. Xiao Yu stared at the first set of data from Lighting Administrator-9—she had connected the time points of the seven illumination fluctuations into a curve and discovered it was an extremely simple function: y = 0.2x + 0.3, where x is the fluctuation number and y is the fluctuation duration.

"She's speaking in mathematics," Xiao Yu whispered, "telling those who understand: this isn't a random fault, it's a regular artificial signal."

Su Yu folded a paper crane from silver foil, its wings reflecting the kitchen light: "But why did she choose '498'? Why is it 2 lux below the standard?"

"Because 2 is the first prime number," the geometric surface of Purifier-1 displayed a mathematical formula, "Prime numbers are often used as keys in encrypted communications. She's screening recipients—only those who notice this prime-number difference will keep looking."

As his words fell, the monitor showed an eighth fluctuation.

Time: 3:48:17 a. m.

Illumination: 498 lux.

Duration: 1.1 seconds—perfectly matching y = 0.2×8 + 0.3 = 1.1.

Han Qing's scar suddenly glowed, projecting a passage from Chen Mo's notes:

【One of the early designers of the Memory Archive, the 'Light Speaker,' had once proposed embedding a cipher system in the lighting network: using minute illumination fluctuations to transmit emergency information. The proposal was rejected on the grounds that it 'might be abused.' But the Light Speaker privately left a test interface in the Seventh Corridor's system. Activation condition: eight consecutive prime-number-difference fluctuations.】

"She triggered the backdoor left by her senior." Han Qing opened his eyes, "Now that interface should already be activated, waiting… for the password."

At 3:50 a. m., a tiny, pale gold dot appeared in the lower right corner of the Seventh Corridor monitor before Lighting Administrator-9.

Only her light filaments can see it—it is a special encoding of visual frequency.

The dot blinked Morse code: 【Who are you?】

Lighting Administrator-9's light filaments trembled collectively. For 1,400 years, this was the first time a "person" had spoken directly to her, not via a system command.

She hesitated for seventeen seconds—the longest hesitation since her creation.

Then, she used her light filaments to input a reply on the console—not via keyboard, but by the faint glow at the tips of her filaments, "writing" in the sensing area:

【Lighting Administrator-9. I have detected the regular fluctuation. I want to know: who is speaking?】

The dot replied quickly: 【An ally of File-7. He is about to be reformatted. We need help.】

Another silence followed.

This time it lasted only three seconds.

Lighting Administrator-9 "wrote": 【What can I do?】

【Use your clearance. Tomorrow, between 3:47 a. m. and 3:51 a. m., in the monitoring blind spot, cause the Seventh Corridor's illumination to fluctuate in a specific pattern. We will use this signal to guide rescuers to the exact location of the detention cell.】

【But be warned: if discovered, you too will be reformatted.】

Lighting Administrator-9's light filaments stilled.

She "gazed" at the sole personal item on her workstation—a fingernail‑sized, dull glass shard. It was a "memory core fragment" she had possessed since her birth, which regulations required to be surrendered and destroyed, but she had secretly kept. The fragment contains only a damaged scene: a pair of hands adjusting the brightness of some old-fashioned lamp, the light shifting from dim to warm, then a child's voice saying, "This is good, not glaring."

She does not know whose hands or whose child they are.

But she knows that each time she sees that scene, her light filaments become… soft.

【I agree.】She finally "wrote": 【But please tell me—where does that memory of the hands come from?】

This time, the dot remained silent for a full minute.

Then it replied: 【That is the final memory of the Light Speaker before his death. He was adjusting the night‑light in his daughter's bedroom. You are one of the successors derived from a fragment of his consciousness. They erased your inherited memory, but could not fully erase… the instinct.】

At that moment, all of Lighting Administrator-9's light filaments simultaneously emitted a warm golden glow.

Although it lasted only 0.7 seconds.

That was enough.

The rice cakes were done, and their salty‑sweet steam filled the kitchen.

Yet no one reached for their chopsticks.

Everyone was looking at the encryption scheme transmitted by Lighting Administrator-9—she used the illumination system's complex privileges to devise an exquisite signal system:

Within the four‑minute blind spot, have the Seventh Corridor's illumination rapidly switch between 500 and 498 lux, with the switching frequency forming a binary code.

The encoded content is the precise coordinates of the detention cell she just calculated, along with the locations of monitoring blind spots along the route.

The signal repeats every thirty seconds, lasting four minutes.

To avoid detection by lighting administrators in other zones, she will simultaneously make slight adjustments to the illumination of other corridors as "noise cover"—all corridor illumination will randomly fluctuate between 499 and 501 lux, appearing like the system's normal self‑calibration.

"Genius," Kaiwen pushed up his glasses, "She used the system's permitted fluctuation range to hide the true signal. Even if inspected, she could say, 'I'm just running illumination system optimization tests.'"

"But the risk remains," Xiao Yu said, "If the inspectors discover that the Seventh Corridor's fluctuation frequency follows a pattern…"

"So she needs our cooperation." Han Qing's scar began outputting a complex frequency diagram: "We need to, while sending the signal, let the grafted sapling affect the memory repository's power system via the earth veins—produce an extremely slight voltage fluctuation, amplitude controlled within 0.1%. That way, the light fluctuation will have a 'reasonable cause': the lighting system's self-adaptive adjustment due to micro-disturbances in the power grid."

Old Zhao served each person a bowl of rice cake, then ladled an extra bowl and placed it before the "position" of Lighting Administrator-9—that was a small desk lamp, now set to the softest warm yellow light.

"For her." He said, "Although she can't taste it, the light… might be able to feel it."

Just then, Purifier-1 suddenly sounded an alarm: "Wait, there's a loophole in the plan."

Everyone looked at it.

"Lighting Administrator-9's calculation is based on an assumption: other lighting administrators won't notice the special fluctuation in the Seventh Corridor." Purifier-1's geometric body surface displayed a complex data stream: "But according to my memory, each area of the memory repository has at least two lighting administrators cross‑supervising. The Seventh Corridor belongs to the third zone, and the other administrator in the third zone is——"

It pulled up a file.

Codename: "Absolute Luminance-4".

The file photo shows it is a sharp polyhedron composed of icy white light. The remarks column reads: "Having reported three colleagues for 'non‑standard illumination adjustment,' which led to their formatting. Firmly believing that 'light must be absolute, shadows cannot be tolerated.'"

The air in the kitchen solidified.

"If he detects an anomaly while on duty…" Xiao Yu's voice tightened.

"He won't just file a report." Purifier-1's geometric body turned alert red, "He will directly take over the system, lock onto the anomaly source, and then—personally execute the formatting procedure."

There are still three hours until the formatting of File-7.

There are still twenty‑three minutes until the four‑minute blind spot at 3:47 a. m.

Han Qing stared at the file of Absolute Luminance-4, his hand unconsciously pressing on his hot scar.

Deep in the scar, Chen Mo's voice suddenly sounded—not a memory replay, but some deeper, as‑if‑preset program being triggered:

【Xiao Qing, when you face a seemingly insoluble dilemma, remember: the strongest rules are often built on the weakest assumptions.】

【Absolute Luminance-4 believes light must be absolute. So let him see… something even more absolute than absolute.】

Han Qing jerked his head up: "I need the real‑time status data of Lighting Administrator-9. Now."

Kaiwen pulled up a connection—an unstable link established via data mold spots.

On the screen, the light filaments of Lighting Administrator-9 were rhythmically flickering; she was conducting the final signal‑encoding test. In the corner of the workbench, that dim glass memory fragment was actually faintly glowing.

"She is invoking the inheritor memory of the Light Speakers." Han Qing's scar synchronously parsed those light frequencies, "Inside lies… some knowledge surpassing the existing illumination system."

Just then, a notification from the memory repository system popped up on the monitor:

【Notice: The person in charge of the third‑zone lighting system, Absolute Luminance-4, has ended hibernation early and entered duty status. Current time: 3:29 a. m.】

Eighteen minutes early.

Absolute Luminance-4's polyhedron now hovered in the third‑zone central control room, its icy light illuminating the entire room.

His first order made everyone's hearts sink:

【System self‑check command: comprehensively scan the real‑time data streams of all lighting units in the third zone, focusing on 'regular fluctuations'. Scan depth: level three. Estimated duration: forty‑seven minutes.】

The scan will begin at 3:47 a. m., exactly covering the entire blind‑spot period.

Lighting Administrator-9 sent a final message, only three words:

【He knows. What do we do?】

The steam from the rice cake rose slowly in the air, curled, and dissipated.

Han Qing looked at the bowl of rice cake placed before the small desk lamp, then suddenly said:

"Tell him the truth."

"What?" Xiao Yu turned her head.

"Tell Absolute Luminance-4—the illumination fluctuation in the Seventh Corridor is not transmitting a signal; it is conducting an 'Absolute Light Purity Test.'" Han Qing's scar began outputting a complete counterfeit plan: "We want Lighting Administrator-9 to proactively report: she has discovered that the 'absolute stability' of the current illumination system actually hides tiny chaotic fluctuations, and in pursuit of a more extreme 'absolute,' she is designing an ultimate illumination protocol to eliminate all fluctuations."

Purifier-1's geometric body flashed bright: "Will he believe it? He himself is a believer in absolutism."

"Precisely because he is a believer," Han Qing's eyes shone astonishingly under the kitchen light, "he cannot refuse the temptation of 'more absolute.' We want him to think—Lighting Administrator-9 is not a traitor, but a comrade even more extreme than him, secretly conducting the 'Ultimate Purification Experiment.'"

Su Yu's folded silver‑foil paper crane suddenly unfolded its wings at this moment; the silver foil on its surface reflected complex, ever‑changing light patterns—this was actually the visual encrypted version of a forged "Ultimate Illumination Protocol."

She whispered: "In the Light Speakers' inherited memory, there really are partial drafts of this protocol. Although it's merely a theoretical concept…"

"Enough." Han Qing said, "Show him the draft. Tell him: completing this protocol requires the final data from File-7 before its formatting, to be used as a 'chaos sample' for analysis. So—please delay the formatting by three hours."

"Three hours…" Xiao Yu calculated, "That's just enough time for us to mount a rescue."

In the kitchen, everyone held their breath.

The warm yellow light of the small desk lamp, in the darkness of the early morning, was like a stubbornly beating heart.