Chapter 992

"Hiss—" "Stelle" gasped.

Ms. Marion's attitude toward Mr. Adam was not at all like a wife toward a husband; it was completely like treating a stranger.

No matter how you look at it, Adam, who alone retained that memory, is a bit pitiful. His loved one is like a stranger, his familiar "daily life" collapses in an instant, but no one knows why this happened.

The lethality of antimemetics in this regard is really strong.

"Is it because she is worried that 3125 will affect Mr. Adam?" Tingyun guessed.

These strange departments of the Foundation study the world that is most beyond the cognition of "normalcy."

If "Thaumaturgy Theory" and "Reality Theory" have traces to follow, "Narrative Theory" is the study of the world of gods from a human perspective.

To which theory's branch do the concepts of meme and antimeme belong?

Tingyun quietly glanced at Bai Xuan. The faint smile that had always been on the corner of his mouth had disappeared, replaced by a rare serious expression.

Is he substituting himself into Mr. Adam's perspective? Tingyun guessed with reason.

This kind of blow is no less than hearing that a lover was involved in an accident and is separated by life and death.

However, there is still hope hidden in the sadness and loss. At least Marion still has the day when her memory recovers. After the war with 3125 ends, the lovers will meet again.

She thought so, her tail behind her curled up quietly, sweeping the back of Bai Xuan's hand, and when the latter cast a glance, she showed a shallow smile.

March 7th, who was next to her, saw this scene and exchanged a look with "Stelle," completing the communication.

……

Besides that.

There is also the daily cycle of driving home, then sinking into a dream, and then driving to work.

That huge and hostile building complex standing there, filled with drug treatment, containment measures……

She is in it, carrying out long-term work that challenges physiological limits.

Calculating in running, never stopping in calculation, even in dreams, she is often awakened by countless creepy nightmares, with fresh memories, clear enough to make one's heart palpitate.

And this is all, nothing else is left.

Like a black hole, vast and unfathomable.

"You don't remember anything, do you? Not a bit left?" Adam said softly.

"Every time you push open the door at night, you look very tired, and I worry every day whether you will collapse."

"This job has never been easy, but the past few years have been particularly difficult because you are trying hard to pursue a crucial breakthrough."

"When I asked about this, you explained to me that you couldn't reveal the specific work content to me, saying it would cost me my life."

"I naturally didn't believe it at first, and I still don't believe it now, and I still hate your job. It's simply a nightmare."

"I believe in your choice, so I didn't continue to ask."

"However, I can feel from the sound of your knuckles when you grip the steering wheel, from the topics you avoid, and from the frowns when you sleep deeply that you are participating in a war."

"You keep losing subordinates, you are about to achieve results, and you are determined to win this battle."

"So, I fry eggs for you in the morning, play the violin for you at night, and work with you to guard three-tenths of the normalcy in life."

"It's not that you can't face it independently; if it were really necessary, you would definitely be able to conquer the universe alone."

"I just want you to know that you don't have to always fight alone."

Speaking of this, Adam took off his glasses from the bridge of his nose, put them on the table, covered his face with both hands, and kept scratching his hair. The hair set with gel was as messy as a bird's nest.

Adam cleared his throat and continued:

"Our relationship didn't start with love at first sight, but it warmed up very quickly."

"At first, our resonance stemmed from music, appreciating Bach and Mendelssohn together; we had the same taste in the choice of tobacco, and were equally disdainful of 'The X-Files'."

"You and I like the same kind of coffee and fine wine, and then we traveled together, embarked on a bird-watching trip, and watched the Perseid meteor shower together."

"We are both obsessed with Bruce Lee's martial arts, watched 'Law & Order' and 'Jeopardy!' together, and flipped through piles of books together."

"Although most of the time I was the one reading alone, because you almost had no spare time."

He gently pinched the bridge of his nose, secretly thinking:

Any couple can find many common points, but a few years of getting along doesn't mean anything.

What is the most unique and representative thing?

"We are of one mind," he continued, "more tacit than anyone else."

"I travel abroad, you work overseas, even if we are separated for two months, we can always instantly pick up the conversation that was interrupted last time."

Speaking of this, Adam took a deep breath, looked at his wife who no longer recognized him, with the love that had been deposited and fermented for so many years, full of rich wine fragrance.

He had also worried that if they reached their old age and Marion suffered from Alzheimer's disease, how should he accompany her to recall the past bit by bit.

It's just that he didn't expect this day to come so quickly, so violently, without any sign. He hadn't prepared to welcome and face it.

"You will understand all this, very soon, just need an opportunity."

Marion understood everything Adam described to some extent.

Although it still seemed distant and hazy, she vaguely perceived it.

——Why this memory could occupy a place in her life, why it could be so closely embedded in the depths of her soul.

But this moving marriage counseling ended here.

Adam uttered a crucial word.

Marion couldn't turn a blind eye to that word. She forced herself to put aside other complicated thoughts for the time being and grabbed this clue tightly.

"What 'war'?" Marion asked eagerly.

Adam became increasingly confused:

"My God, Marion, I'm talking about that war. I don't know how else to explain it clearly."

"What war? How many people?"

"I don't know," Adam responded helplessly, "I only know some names. You don't mention them anymore, and every time I mention them, you ignore me."

"I know there must be some hidden story, but I have no way of knowing the details? But you shouldn't not know, right?"

Marion reasoned quickly in her heart.

It was entirely possible that she participated in it and even achieved victory, but had no impression of it—she might have deleted the memory herself, or some conflict affected this part of the content.

This was not the first time this had happened.

Adam, whose mind was as thick as whale fat, was also entirely possible to have stood on the edge of the conflict, vaguely feeling it.

And the department—it was so short of manpower.

The people around her were disappearing!

"And if—" she started, but stopped halfway through, as if her thought had been stolen by Amon.

What happened? Why did my thinking suddenly stop? Thoughts flashed in Marion's mind, and she found the topic again.