Chapter 590

The first dozen or so pages of the calendar were thick, colored paper, with elaborate, colorful illustrations of anime heroines along the edges, including but not limited to Sōryū Asuka, Fu Lilingmeng, Asuna, Tifa, and 2B.

Upon close inspection, one could detect brushstrokes—all the illustrations were hand-drawn!

"Old in body, but young at heart."

Li Cheng couldn't help glancing at the photo of Academician Chen himself on the desk—he wore a suit, his hair was gray, his smile warm and kind, and behind him sat a circle of disciples and students, exuding the aura of an academic titan, utterly unrecognizable as the true old-school otaku he was.

"The constraints of the physical body cannot limit the freedom of the mind—especially after the advent of consciousness upload technology."

Su Nisheng pointed to the background of the photo, where a banner hung reading: "2061 Forum on Brain-Machine Interfaces and Whole-Brain Digital Migration."

Uh… considering this Academician Chen's dual status as an old-school otaku and academic titan, wouldn't he have created a youthful, vibrant avatar for himself when uploading his consciousness?

"Anyway, check the time."

Li Cheng flipped the calendar to the back and said solemnly, "From January 2070 to March 2071, the grid boxes on these months were drawn by Academician Chen himself."

And the length of each grid differed from those before it.

Indeed, each month the grid subtly grew longer—January 2070 showed almost no change.

February: 1.02 times.

March: 1.05 times.

April: 1.09 times.

By March 2071, the grid length had reached 1.4 times.

"What does this mean?"

Hydra asked, puzzled. From the room's furnishings and the image in the photo, Academician Chen was clearly a meticulous, serious man—he wouldn't do something absurd like "flies don't buzz at eggs without cracks, so Dr. Chen decided to file down the seam lines on his own testicles."

The changing length of the calendar grids must have deeper meaning.

A flash of insight struck Li Cheng—he suddenly looked up and said at the same time as Su Nisheng, "Flight speed."

A flash of inspiration struck Li Cheng's mind. He jerked his head up and said at the same moment as Su Nisheng, "Flight speed."

"What?"

Hydra still didn't understand. Li Cheng explained casually, "In special relativity, there's a thought experiment called the twin paradox: two twin brothers, one boards a spaceship for near-light-speed interstellar travel, the other stays on Earth."

When the traveler returns, he finds himself younger than his brother who remained on Earth.

The calendar Academician Chen hand-drew doesn't record time aboard the spaceship—it records the time difference between the spaceship traveling at sub-light speed and Earth."

Hydra understood. "The crew on the ship age slower than humans on Earth."

Hydra understood. "The ship's crew, compared to humans on Earth, age much more slowly."

Li Cheng nodded. "For Academician Chen, his life—from small-town problem-solver to master's, then doctorate, then academician, ascending to the Moon like a firework—was already complete on Earth. In his later years, he joined the interstellar colonization program; with consciousness upload technology, even if his body died, his mind could continue shining in cyberspace—teaching students, offering advice, and so on."

Li Cheng nodded and said: "For Academician Chen, he went from being a small-town exam-cramming kid, grinding his way step by step to a master's, a doctorate, an academician, becoming a leading authority in scholarship, and rocketed to the moon like a string of firecrackers. His life on Earth was already complete, so in his later years he wanted to join the interstellar colonization plan — once consciousness-upload technology was available, even if his body died, his consciousness could keep shining in cyberspace, teaching students, offering advice, and the like.

"I see," Hydra paused, hesitating. "But how does this help us?"

"I see," Hydra paused, then said hesitantly: "But how does that help our situation?"

Li Cheng laughed heartily. "If I must say something, at least consciousness upload technology is real. That noisy kid didn't lie to us."

Hydra put down the photo. Had the situation allowed, he would've already complained: "Bro, we've got one hour left before execution—you're not even worried?"

Focus on the task. Hydra silently stepped two paces forward and, following the smart wristwatch's guidance, began repairing the medical pod and the human scanning equipment.

It wasn't even really repair—he couldn't understand the complex structures and precision components inside after lifting the cover, based on his current recovered memories. He simply followed the cursor's instructions: tighten a bolt here, connect a wire there.

It couldn't really be called repair either. With the memories currently recovered, Hydra couldn't understand at all the complex structures and precision components inside after prying open the cover plate — she just followed the cursor's guidance, tightening a bolt here with a wrench, connecting a wire there.

"This human scanning device seems to be missing a part," Hydra said.

The instrument consisted of four main parts: high-energy ray emitter, omnidirectional six-axis robotic arm, imaging device, and main unit.

The first three were intact, but the main unit's chassis slot clearly lacked a square-shaped component.

The first three were still intact, but in the main unit's cabinet slot, something cube-shaped was clearly missing.

Li Cheng's mind automatically surfaced the relevant information. He pressed the power button—the device powered on, but couldn't run properly.

Meanwhile, the smart wristwatch displayed: all medical room repair tasks completed; proceed elsewhere.

What did this mean? Did the noisy kid cut corners? Or…

Li Cheng had a quiet suspicion in his mind, but his tone remained unchanged, calm as ever. "Let's go to the recreation room."

The recreation room's total area was larger than the medical room and weapons storage combined, divided into several zones: brain-machine gaming room, children's toy room, holographic cinema, and bar.

Logically, with brain-machine interface technology, most human entertainment could occur in virtual worlds—freer, and without consuming physical mass, like alcohol wasted in drinking.

If forced to explain, perhaps not all base personnel had installed brain-machine interfaces?

Children still growing—installing fixed-size interfaces too early would be inappropriate.

"Let's see what games and movies were available by 2070."

Li Cheng rubbed his palms together. The moment he opened the recreation room's main screen interface, he froze.

"Fast & Furious 30? Still Vin Diesel as lead? He's eighty and still riding those old-folks' bumper cars shouting 'We are family.'"

"What's this 'Half-Life 2 Open-World Brain-Machine Interface Ultra HD Remaster'? You updated it this much and still didn't release Half-Life 3?"

"2069 TGA Best Ongoing Support Award: GenshinIm…"

Li Cheng quickly closed the interface, glancing around nervously like a thief.

Hydra and Su Nisheng didn't notice him—one diligently repaired circuits, the other flipped through a leftover children's sketchbook.

One drawing caught Su Nisheng's eye: a cigar-shaped, elongated spaceship with neat segmented structure, enveloped in an elliptical energy shield, and a massive, nautilus-shaped engine at the rear that emitted faint blue particles instead of flames.

Perhaps 2070's art education was exceptionally advanced—this child's drawing rivaled professional artwork, using perspective techniques. From the tiny pilot figure in the cockpit (wearing the same space suit as Li Cheng and others), the ship was roughly 1,000 meters long and 200 meters in diameter.

Before Su Nisheng could ponder further, the recreation room's public address system blared Dir's frantic voice: "Hey, this is Dir—I'm broadcasting from the base security room."

Perhaps art education in 2070 was especially advanced — this child's drawing was professionally on par with a professional artist, employing perspective techniques. From the little driver figure in the cockpit at the bow (wearing the same style of spacesuit as Li Cheng and the others), one could tell the entire ship was roughly 1,000 meters long and 200 meters in diameter.

Before Su Nisheng could think further, a frantic voice crackled through the entertainment room's loudspeaker: "Hey, this is Dir—I'm broadcasting to you from the base security room."

"The God of Laughter has vanished."