Chapter 639

For a moment, Adam's heart trembled violently; he seemed to have fallen into a bizarre dream, and everything around him became blurry and distorted.

His thinking seemed to be carried by a torrent, and every particle that made up his body unfolded in two dimensions, rotating and expanding rapidly until it filled the entire universe.

He tried to grasp a trace of reason, only to find himself trapped in an endless maze, every corner filled with infinite light and gorgeous colors.

They seemed to have become tangible entities, constantly squeezing his consciousness, making him unable to breathe and unable to escape.

Time seemed to stand still at this moment, and countless images flashed through Adam's mind.

Just as his consciousness was about to be completely swallowed by this torrent, suddenly, a force grabbed him and pulled him down violently.

In a daze, Adam found himself standing in front of a forest.

Lush and green, like an oil painting.

Subconsciously, Adam intended to tap his temples to relieve the impending migraine.

But he waited for a while, and the migraine didn't come; he didn't feel any anger in his heart, didn't feel any anxiety, just like at Site-41.

He looked up; the sky was a normal azure blue, clouds were flowing in the sky, and a normal sun was obscured by clouds, not that terrifying sun that looked like an eye socket.

"Am I..." Adam couldn't help but feel a little puzzled.

Suddenly, a breeze quietly swept past, carrying the unique freshness and tranquility of the deep forest, and faintly revealing an enticing sweetness of food.

Only then did Adam notice that laughter had been coming from afar, and he hadn't reacted at all.

He turned around, followed the source of the fragrance and sound, and after taking a few steps, found the target.

It was a beautiful big house, with a garden behind it, and tall coniferous forests surrounding a neat lawn.

A circle of chairs was placed on the lawn, and twenty-five men and women were sitting or standing, talking in groups of three or five, holding wine glasses and burgers, their faces filled with relaxed and happy smiles.

By the grill, people were queuing in an orderly manner, looking forward to the food coming out.

On the grill, the food was sizzling, and waves of enticing fragrance mixed with the high-rising white smoke permeated the entire air.

Everything seemed so harmonious and beautiful, as if no ominous thing could disturb this peaceful paradise.

Adam stood in the woods, staring for a long time.

This scene was something he couldn't find even in his dreams; day after day, he was tortured by rage and violence into neurasthenia, and even his dreams were deep red blood, with nowhere to escape.

"How could this be real?" he whispered to himself.

Everything was too beautiful, too abrupt; when the whole world was eroded by 3125, who else could have a barbecue party with laughter?

Why did he have such a hallucination? Why would the hallucination present this scene? What unique meaning does this scene have? Or is there a special risk hidden?

Adam was a little panicked.

He tried to stay calm, his hands subconsciously clenching into fists.

However, in this near-instinctive reaction, Adam noticed a trace of abnormality—his left hand wasn't so empty anymore, with two more fingers of neural feedback.

Adam raised his left hand, his right hand constantly pinching the intact fingers; they were no longer bare wooden stakes, and they had a familiar touch.

He couldn't help but gasp, almost in tears.

At this time, a man walked over, extending his right hand:

"You must be Adam Wheeler."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Bartholomew Hughes."

Dr. Hughes... Adam straightened up, his eyes filled with a little curiosity, looking at this savior who was entrusted with infinite hope.

He was not tall, short and thin, looking about fifty years old, with wild gray hair, and a pair of heavy glasses on the bridge of his nose, like a little old man.

His left hand held a bottle of iced beer, the bottle wet, full of cold condensed droplets.

Adam subconsciously raised his hand and responded to Dr. Hughes's greeting.

After the etiquette, Dr. Hughes introduced:

"I work at the Foundation, responsible for containment architecture, biometrics, etc., handling some strange and bizarre tasks."

Adam: "Dr. Hughes... I'm looking for you."

"Looks like you've found me," Dr. Hughes responded with a smile, "Good job."

"...What is this place?" Adam asked in confusion.

"I don't think you remember either," Dr. Hughes nodded, not surprised.

He turned sideways, looking at the people holding the barbecue party on the lawn.

They were illusory images in memory, just like 3D animation characters, only acting according to the trajectory of memory, without subjective will.

For example, now, they were still talking, but it was just for show; the content was intermittent, rarely with coherent sentences.

More content was simply lip-syncing, repeating syllables with no information, playing the role of living people.

Naturally, they wouldn't react to Adam's appearance, nor would they notice that Dr. Hughes had left his seat.

In fact, if Adam walked further away, he would find that only this small area was "real."

The further away from here, the higher the degree of distortion, and some places were just textures, just like games often do.

"This is where we first met. At that time, the time was short, and we only said a few words to each other, and I can't remember what I said to you at that time..."

"...Actually, I don't have any impression of you either, just a vague general idea... no offense."

"But I remember this barbecue, I clearly remember seeing you at this barbecue."

"So, I think this is a relatively consensual scene, convenient for us to start subsequent conversations."

Adam tried hard to recall, but whether it was this scene or the people around him, they were all strangers to him.

He stared quietly at the relaxed and happy barbecue party, and after a few minutes, he shifted his gaze back to Dr. Hughes:

"Is this your memory?"

Dr. Hughes nodded: "Yes, come over, let's talk."

Dr. Hughes led Adam across the lawn and chose a pair of chairs in the sun.

Dr. Hughes rested his elbows on his knees, pondered for a moment, and then told Adam.

"Adam, you don't know what you are looking for. It is something called the 'Seed of the Anti-Meme'."

"Unfortunately, you are not the right candidate."

"If you really possessed it, you would naturally know; it's impossible not to know."

"You would feel shocked by it, driven by the high-level ideals it represents, making you full of motivation every morning when you wake up."

"I thought it was what guided you here, but now it seems not."

Adam fell silent. He maintained his original posture, considering it motionless, and only muttered after a dozen seconds:

"Sorry... I didn't know I was supposed to bring an idea to find you."

"You couldn't have known," Dr. Hughes responded almost immediately, perhaps to comfort, perhaps not.

He leaned back in his chair, changed to a relaxed posture, put the cold beer on his lap, feeling the rare coolness, and the human body.

"Outside this bunker, no one knows this, including the former me, until I was locked inside, did I figure this out."

"Such situations are common in the Foundation—we build plans, and then accidents happen, and the plans fall apart."

"Under huge pressure, we are often forced to stimulate unexpected creativity."

Adam took a deep breath and nodded, indicating that he understood what Dr. Hughes meant.

"Okay, then where is the thing you mentioned?"

"I hope it's not too far away; I don't want to walk back to Site-41 again."

"But if it's really at Site-41, I can only make another trip, as long as you can wait that long."

While speaking, he straightened his back, seemingly to prove his determination, or seemingly to convince himself.

"You can't do it." Dr. Hughes shook his head.

"Even if things were that simple, even if I had a place where I could take you directly to get it—like ordering takeout—you couldn't carry an idea in that way."

"You have never possessed such ability, because you have never believed in, and have never truly needed this idea—you are not the right candidate."

Adam listened to Dr. Hughes's argument, his face showing a helpless expression:

"...Then what can we do?"

This is like a company employee who has worked hard to make a plan and submitted the report to the superior, hoping to get a "we can win."

The result is the superior saying: "This plan won't work."

Does he have to travel the world, collect survivors one by one, spend decades, bring the assembled Demon King strategy hero team back to Site-167, and then have Dr. Hughes judge their thinking.

—If he hasn't died of old age by then.

Dr. Hughes's gaze turned to the barbecue party, meaningfully staring at a woman in the crowd.

She was facing away from them, talking cordially with the people waiting for food, clearly the focus of the crowd's attention.

Adam followed Dr. Hughes's gaze and whispered her name: "Marion..."

"She possesses such ability," Dr. Hughes affirmed.

"To be precise, she is not the only one."

"In this world, there are infinitely variable possibility phase spaces, and the different ideas mastered by millions of people can all come in handy."

"And she was once one of them."

"Once was..." Adam repeated.

"Yeah. She died."

Dr. Hughes turned to stare at Adam, hesitated for a moment, and then took a sip of beer, seemingly looking for the right words.

He is not a medical doctor and does not have anything that can be called a "clinical attitude."