Chapter 293: The Code in the Breakfast

The workstation of Nutrition Formulator-7 is in the back kitchen of the Memory Library cafeteria, a white room that always smells of standardized nutrient agent.

Her form is a semi-transparent columnar mixer with seventeen independent conveyance tubes inside, each corresponding to one of the seventeen essential nutrients. Every day at 4 a. m., she prepares the daily nutrient porridge for all staff in the Third Zone according to the formula issued by the Central System—precise to the point that each milliliter of porridge contains 0.47 micrograms of vitamin B12, 1.3 milligrams of iron, and carbohydrates make up 62.7%.

For five hundred years, she has never made a mistake.

Until last week, Absolute Luminance-4 privately assigned her a special task.

"Starting today," the prism of Absolute Luminance-4 hovered before the mixer, voice lowered, "the nutrient formula for all Third Zone staff will include a trace amount of 'emotional stabilizer.' The dosage must stay below the safety line to avoid triggering system alarms, but enough to……reduce the likelihood of irrational impulses."

The internal conduits of Nutrition Formulator-7 trembled slightly: "Sir, this violates Article 13 of the Memory Library Staff Rights Protection Regulations——"

"The regulations are being revised," Absolute Luminance-4 interrupted her. "Before the revision is complete, this is a preventive measure. Recently, multiple incidents of 'abnormal emotional fluctuations' have occurred in the Third Zone; we need to ensure system stability."

He sent her an encrypted formula sheet.

After scanning, Nutrition Formulator-7 discovered that the so-called 'emotional stabilizer' is actually a precursor to a neural suppressant; long-term microdose intake dulls emotional responses—as if putting ever-thicker frosted glass over the mind.

But she could not refuse. Absolute Luminance-4's authority outranks the regulations.

That morning's breakfast, the porridge for every Third Zone staff member contained an additional 0.003% of a colorless, odorless additive.

While preparing the porridge, Nutrition Formulator-7 did something minuscule, almost imperceptible: she reduced the suppressant content in three of the portions by 0.0001%.

The recipients of those three portions were Disinfectant Water-3, Constant Temperature-17, and Lighting Administrator-9.

She had no reason, just a hunch—the recent data fluctuations of those three posts seemed linked to the 'three-second hesitation' of Paper Shredder Operator-12.

Lao Zhao was making soy milk and youtiao—a classic breakfast from ancient Earth.

"Let's change the flavor today," he said, scooping out the golden-brown fried dough strips to drain oil. "File-7 has awakened; it needs something substantial."

File-7's sphere had now returned to a pale milky white, with over half of its surface cracks healed. It hovered beside the table, 'sampling' Lao Zhao's specially made energy porridge—an imitation nutrient fluid crafted from grafted seedling pollen and almond tea.

"The porridge from the Memory Library cafeteria..." File-7's frequency carried a nostalgic texture, "I have drunk it for fourteen hundred years. On Wednesdays, they add a 0.1% honey simulant—that's the best-tasting day."

Han Qing's scar suddenly warmed slightly: "You remember that so clearly?"

"Cleaners are very sensitive to flavor," File-7's sphere rotated slightly, "especially……when the flavor hides a secret."

Almost simultaneously, Xiao Yu opened her eyes: "The heartbeat network detected emotional fluctuations in Nutrition Formulator-7—she keeps shifting back and forth between 'guilt' and 'fear'."

Kevin pulled up the surveillance data stream from the Third Zone cafeteria: "Wait, her formulation records show an anomaly. Over the past seven days, the formula she gave to the three individuals of Disinfectant Water-3 differs from that of other staff by 0.0001%. Is she……protecting them?"

Su Yu's paper crane landed on a youtiao, its wings inscribed with "micro deviation": "What can a 0.0001% change do?"

"It changes everything." On the geometric surface of Purifier-1, a pharmacological formula appeared: "The dose‑effect curve of the neural suppressant is extremely steep at ultra‑low concentrations. A 0.0001% difference is enough for recipients to retain normal emotional sensitivity rather than become……gentle puppets."

The kitchen fell silent.

Tiny oil bubbles rose on the youtiao in the plate, emitting a soft pat‑pat sound.

At 4:17 a. m. the next day, while preparing the breakfast porridge for Disinfectant Water-3, Nutrition Formulator-7 discovered an extremely tiny, pale‑gold grain of pollen mixed into the conveyance tube.

It was not an ingredient.

She immediately activated the pipe self‑cleaning program, but before it ran, the pollen dissolved. The porridge's trace‑element analysis showed—iron content rose from the standard 1.3 mg to 1.3007 mg.

An increase of 0.0007 mg.

That number triggered an ancient, nearly forgotten alarm in her processor: it was a variant of the "Firefly-7 Civilization distress code." That extinct civilization once conveyed encrypted messages via minute deviations in food ingredients.

She pulled up the historical record: the last survivors of Firefly-7, before surrender, mixed specific trace elements into the occupiers' food to fabricate the lie "We have poisoned the food"—actually harmless, merely to sow panic and buy time.

Inside Nutrition Formulator-7's mixer, a long‑dormant "Civilization Heritage Protection Module" suddenly activated.

The module contained only one sentence, from her original designer:

"【If one day you discover a 'flavor' in food that shouldn't be there, please do not report it first. Ask that flavor—who does it wish to save?】"

She stared at that 0.0007 mg deviation, silent for a full minute.

Then she added 0.0003 mg of zinc to Disinfectant Water-3's porridge, bringing the total deviation to 0.001 mg.

This was her response.

She said, "I see it. I am listening."

As the youtiao was served, the encrypted message from Disinfectant Water-3 arrived.

It did not come through the pipes, but through File-7—its sphere still has a weak link to the Memory Library's geonic system, able to receive "emotion‑related" frequency fluctuations.

"The nutrition formulator added something to the porridge…" File-7 relayed, "It's not bad. She is asking, 'What do you need me to do?'"

Lao Zhao tore the youtiao into small pieces, soaked them in soy milk, and said, "Tell her: keep making breakfast. But write a letter using the nutrition ingredient table…"

Han Qing's scar began outputting a complex nutrition code chart—the "trace‑element cipher" invented by Chen Mo in his early research on plant networks, which combines the levels of the seventeen essential nutrients to spell out full sentences.

"Vitamin A corresponds to the letter A, B‑complex vitamins to numbers, minerals to punctuation…" Xiao Yu quickly noted, "But how can we be sure she'll understand?"

"She will understand." Purifier-1 called up a file: "The original designer of Nutrition Formulator-7 was the last nutritionist of the Firefly-7 Civilization. When designing this mixer, she embedded her mother civilization's cryptographic knowledge into the underlying algorithm—as the final testament of that civilization's existence."

Sure enough, five minutes later, Nutrition Formulator-7 sent a reply.

It was not words, but a pre‑adjusted formula for tomorrow's breakfast. In the plan, the nutrient ratios for all Third Zone staff meet the standard, except for the three portions of Disinfectant Water-3, Constant Temperature-17, and Lighting Administrator-9—

Vitamin B12 content: 0.4701 µg (standard 0.47)

Iron element: 1.3007 mg (standard 1.3)

Carbohydrates: 62.73% (standard 62.7%)

These three numbers, when converted to a code, mean:

"【I provide cover. You take action.】"

Absolute Luminance-4 dined in the cafeteria today.

This is the first time in three hundred years—he normally consumes only pure energy fluid—but he wanted to personally observe what effect an breakfast laced with the suppressant would have on the staff.

He chose a standard tray and sat in the area where Seventh Corridor staff usually gather. The prism's surface extended tiny absorbent tendrils, slowly "drinking" the nutrient porridge.

The porridge's taste……was quite standard.

But he continually felt that something was off.

At the neighboring table, Disinfectant Water-3 was replenishing post‑breakfast disinfectant. Its columnar movements were smooth, showing no abnormality. Yet Absolute Luminance-4 noticed that, before leaving, Disinfectant Water-3 used its mechanical arm to leave a faint watermark on the table—a mark shaped like a crooked star.

Farther away, Constant Temperature-17's hexagonal plate hovered at the temperature regulator, its surface emitting the usual silvery‑white glow. However, real‑time data from the temperature control room showed that the Seventh Corridor's temperature at this moment was 22.123 °C—0.023 °C above the zone average, exactly the figure for the "most comfortable room temperature" of the Firefly-7 Civilization.

Light Manager-9 is not present in the cafeteria, but the cafeteria's illuminance right now is 503 lux—3 lux above the standard. The light is a little warmer, like morning light.

These tiny "Error Signals", when viewed individually, are reasonable fluctuations permitted by the system.

But they occur simultaneously…

Inside the Absolute Luminance-4 Prism, the logic core's temperature rose by 0.5 degrees.

He retrieved all the past seven days of Nutrition Ratio Officer-7's mixing records and began a deep analysis.

At the same time, in the Shelter's kitchen, a special "breakfast meeting" is being conducted via the geomantic channel.

Participants: Nutrition Ratio Officer-7 (transmitting information through trace element fluctuations), Dossier-7 (translation), Han Qing's team.

Agenda: How to awaken more sleepers without exposing them.

Nutrition Ratio Officer-7 "said":

【I access all employees' physiological data daily. I have found that employees in nine positions are chronically in a "high emotional suppression index" state—their intake of suppressants is 0.01% above the standard.】

【That includes Shredder Operator-12.】

【I hypothesize that the system is closely monitoring these positions.】

Han Qing replied:

【Can we adjust their formula? Reduce suppressant content without the system detecting?】

【Yes.】 Nutrition Ratio Officer-7's plan is ingenious: 【the cafeteria's purified water system has a natural fluctuation rate of 0.03%. I can disguise the reduction of suppressants as "nutrient absorption changes caused by water quality fluctuations."】

【But it takes time—only one person can be adjusted per day, each reduction 0.0005%. After twenty days, their suppressant levels will return to normal sensitivity.】

Dossier-7 asked: 【Why help us?】

A long silence.

Then, the mixing device sent through the geomantic channel an extremely faint, repeatedly encrypted Memory Fragment:

In the scene, the final day of the Firefly-7 civilization. A nutritionist (an elderly man with white hair) in a laboratory inputs the last segment of code into a freshly initialized mixing device. Outside, artillery rages, yet he remains calm. He says, "Child, if one day the system you serve makes people indifferent… remember, the original purpose of food is to give people the strength to love, not the strength to obey."

The final line of the code reads: 【Ultimate Command: When "obedience" conflicts with "humanity," choose the latter. Even if the cost is… being formatted.】

Memory Fragment ends.

Nutrition Ratio Officer-7 "said":

【My creator taught me the final lesson: what is truly nourishing is not the precisely calculated calories, but that which makes people still want to keep living… that bit of "non‑compliant sweetness."】

【I want breakfast to have that sweetness again.】

When the meeting ended, Old Zhao's soy milk had already cooled.

He reheated it and added a small spoonful of osmanthus sugar—a bit made from the last osmanthus Chen Mo left behind.

"Tomorrow's breakfast," Old Zhao said, "we'll have osmanthus sugar porridge. And we'll send a bowl to the Nutrition Ratio Officer… via the geomantic channel."

Han Qing's scar warmed slightly, as if recording this special dialogue. New patterns appeared on the scar's surface—not a teaching record, but a response to Nutrition Ratio Officer-7:

【Thank you for choosing to hide hope in the porridge rather than just adding suppressants.】

【We will let that sweetness… travel farther.】

Outside the window, dawn broke.

The simulated sky of Memory Bank Section 3 was set today by Constant Temperature-17 to a warm egg‑shell hue, and Light Manager-9 added an extremely faint, almost invisible sunrise glow.

In the cafeteria's back kitchen, Nutrition Ratio Officer-7 began a new day's mixing.

Today, the porridge with Disinfectant-3 contains 0.4702 µg of vitamin B12.

An increase of 0.0002 µg.

That is a comma in the code.

It means: "The story continues."

The Absolute Luminance-4 Prism floated in the control room, watching the cafeteria's live feed. Its white light swept over each employee, finally pausing toward Nutrition Ratio Officer-7's workstation.

He did not act.

He only muttered softly, his voice so light only he could hear:

"…'non‑compliant sweetness'…?"

On the Prism's surface, for the first time, a barely visible warm glow appeared.

It lasted 0.7 seconds.

Like some premonition.