Puzzle Madness

Chapter 145 Subspecies of Humans (Part 1)
DouDou shouted enthusiastically, but the scattered researchers were all running away with their heads down; it was unclear whether they had even heard him—
Even though they were saying things like "buying time," no one rushed up to stop DouDou; they were all busy darting into the pedestrian street along the beach and disappearing into the cluster of bungalows.

It's obvious they didn't have any emergency plans: a quick scan reveals there aren't even any security personnel with live ammunition nearby; these [orange jumpsuits] at most just have a handgun on their waist.

The dangerous work of studying this monster—what if it suddenly moves? In DouDou's experience, it's not uncommon for a corpse to suddenly rise up and walk on the ground again.

DouDou remembers that there was also a biological laboratory in the Mong Cai branch of Asia-Europe Post, which was equipped with a large number of security personnel: although the final outcome was not very pleasant.

It seems those flowerpots with hands planted at the entrance to the boardwalk are more impressive than they appear—at least the researchers at the Human Cataloging Center are quite confident in them.
[Hey, where did Ai Xi go? Did she get planted in one of those flowerpots?]

He came to his senses and realized he had almost forgotten the important reason for coming to the beach.

Ai Xi was right: it's really inconvenient that one's eyes can't see through things like an X-ray. Perhaps we should think of some ways to enhance our sensory abilities?

However, Ai Xi's distress signals are mostly related to the researchers at these human cataloging centers.

DouDou was still waiting in the same spot for the researchers' fancy tricks—and the waiting time seemed long.

Finally, someone returned and pulled the researcher who had lost half an arm away; the red and black drag marks left on the sand were quickly washed away by the waves.

But DouDou wasn't idle either. He went around to the other side of the giant: that was the direction of its face.

"Wow!"

This face, almost the size of a roller shutter, has absolutely no human features—
The nose area has only a large, bright bronze knob; the square mouth bulges outwards with gaps along the edges, serving as a button.

Where there should have been two eyes, they were joined together into a protruding, rectangular screen—grayish, with only rainwater sliding down, and no images.

Looking at it this way, it looks more like a giant robot:
DouDou reached out and poked it: although it felt cold and damp, those buttons that looked hard and metallic were actually soft and elastic; just like DouDou's own face.

It seems that it's just that the appearance is a bit strange and it looks similar to the equipment.

[Hey, what on earth is this thing? A super robot? A combat mech? Let's name it "Devil Salaryman".]

I was just about to use some force to tear open this grotesque face and see what was inside the giant's head—
No way! If it's really a big robot, it would be such a waste if I broke it; maybe I could even turn it on.

Hmm, let's wait until the researchers bring some subspecies and then ask them; they were just researching it, why haven't they attacked yet?

DouDou looked around; but the surroundings were quiet, and there was still no sign of a surprise attack.

He scratched the back of his head, then suddenly realized what it meant:
It seems those people have no intention of coming back to fight me!
Although they were shouting and yelling things like "Call the catalogers!" and "Release those subspecies!", it seemed that all these researchers were just busy running for their lives.

[Um, you're not actually planning to just leave like this, are you?]

After all, they all seemed to be terrified: fighting is not about rushing to death; if DouDou stayed where he was, there would be no need for a "cataloger" or "subspecies" to cover their retreat.

[I'll come back later; the corpse won't wander off anyway.]

For a moment, he didn't care about the strange giant behind him; without saying a word, DouDou took off after the researchers who had retreated earlier.
-
Similar to when I ran through the pedestrian street: after just passing through a small alley piled with seafood garbage, DouDou saw the researchers—
It's like a fight between neighboring classes in school; they just walk a few steps and consider it a retreat back to headquarters.

Wow, these researchers are really oblivious!

Right in the middle of the pedestrian street intersection stood a makeshift sunshade, its four corners touching the ground. It swayed violently; it was a miracle this humble shelter hadn't been blown away by the fierce wind.

The researchers who had fled in fright after being startled by DouDou seemed to have regrouped here.
The surrounding area was filled with bungalows, shops, and restaurants, making it more suitable as a temporary shelter. The sunshade, however, was drafty, allowing the heavy rain to pour in at an angle and only providing slight protection from the rain directly overhead.
It's just sitting there so openly, as if it's eager for more people to see it.

Under the canopy, some people were urgently stopping the bleeding and bandaging the wounds of the unfortunate researcher; others were dismantling—using crowbars to open crates, carefully carrying out the goods, and hurriedly processing them.

A bustling, busy scene unfolded. However, the guards DouDou had imagined were nowhere to be seen; everyone was dressed in NBC protective gear, and it was impossible to distinguish between the so-called "subspecies" and the "catalogers."

But there were even more flowerpots here—those planted with human hands—as if they were used as roadblocks, arranged in rows and rows, surrounding the canopy in the very center.

These are longer and have more joints than the arms seen at the entrance to the pedestrian street: they have no sleeves or clothing; but each arm has more than two joints.

These swaying, twisting postures are rarely seen. Yet they dance incessantly—their movements more violent than the wind.

Their multi-jointed structure makes their "sign language" more frenetic and richer; it's like a combination of breakdancing and robotic dance: the speed is astonishing, even the rain curtain is split open by them, splashing out clumps of water.

The researchers just called it a "flower patch"—but judging from the height of this batch, it could almost be called a "tree".

What exactly are the effects of these things? They didn't even bring security guards; these researchers seem really confident in this [flower patch].

Are they carnivorous plants that automatically hunt for prey? Or are they moving, living surveillance devices? Or are they artificially bred zombies?
DouDou hesitated for a moment before: whether to continue dealing with the researchers at the Human Cataloging Center or to go find AiXi; but now the choice is self-evident.

If you don't see all these strange things, you might get so curious that you get a heart attack and pass out.

Seeing the bustling activity under the sunshade, DouDou felt less anxious.

He slowed his pace and approached along the wooden walkway of the pedestrian street; he made no attempt to conceal himself.

DouDou held her hand up to her eyes, shielding them from the rain. As she got closer, she could see the strange objects the researchers were taking out of crates beside them:

First, there were large, round, shiny spheres, their material indiscernible but seemingly metallic; each about 1.5 meters in diameter. There were two openings on the bottom left and right sides, from which human hands and feet extended.

She wore long socks on her feet and gloves on her hands; every movement she made splashed water, making a slapping sound.

There were several of these [round balls], moving back and forth around the researcher like little dogs; they looked quite docile. Their limbs varied in thickness and the density of their fur.

Besides these "metal ball dogs," the researchers also found thick boards covered with squares in the crates: some looked like sticky rat traps covered with pests, while others resembled surface-to-air missile launchers.

But in each cell, there is an empty space and a long tongue.

The front of the long tongue is not a flat, round arc, but a rectangle with sharp corners—it looks as if someone cut off the very front with scissors.

The tongues drooped down, saliva dripping down; they lacked any of the vitality of those round balls.

DouDou was about to squint to see if there were any other strange things:

Inside the rain shelter, someone suddenly looked up and stared at DouDou—standing out conspicuously among a busy and chaotic crowd.

He or she, like the other researchers, wore a full-body NBC protective suit:
But its color was a vibrant crimson—and it was surrounded by the crowd at the very center.

He's coming/He's coming/He's coming/He's coming!
Suddenly, DouDou seemed to "hear" something:
It was a series of whispers, one after another, with multiple voices singing in chorus, softly echoing—but perfectly clear, completely undisturbed by the violent rain.

It's more like thoughts suddenly appearing in your mind that don't originate from yourself.

Could it be...?

DouDou suddenly raised her hands and covered both ears, shutting out the patter of the rain.

[Did he see me? /Yellow raincoat/Why is he so slow? /Is it really him?/Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!]
The "sound" continued to come. The content had changed, but the volume remained the same.

(End of this chapter)