Puzzle Madness

Chapter 158 Rain Rust (1)

A stormy night rain can wash everything clean.

Not long ago, there was enough blood here to fill an entire reservoir; but now, there is not a trace of red left on the dilapidated wooden walkway.

Whether the ritual of completing the circle has been finished or interrupted, DouDou doesn't know.

He felt it was similar to installing a game on a terminal using several floppy disks; previously, when he was installing Planescape: Torment on the school terminal, the computer teacher strode into the classroom, startling him so much that he quickly ejected the 3.5-inch floppy disk.
Not only did the installation fail, but the terminal also crashed.

There may be no difference between ritual and procedure; even the so-called "ritual" may just be a hoax. DouDou's classmate behind him often claims to be fluent in seven languages, but in reality, he fails his English exams.

DouDou didn't forget to rummage through those [stones of thought], hoping to find some information about "heart ether" or "thought waves"; but she found nothing.

It seems the researchers weren't taking their work very seriously. I found quite a few photos, though. There were pictures of them with members of the opposite sex, glamorous island scenery, and mostly small, blue-background employee photos.

The only difference was a strange group photo that had fallen to the ground; it was unclear whose head it had come from.
Dozens of people, dressed neatly in NBC protective suits, held beer bottles and sodas in one hand and small cakes in the other. They seemed to be in a large office—the ceiling was decorated with colorful ribbons, and colorful scraps of paper were scattered all over the floor.

A banner hangs in the center of the picture, but the words on it are covered with black strips, and only the strokes can be vaguely seen. Most people are dressed in orange, except for the one in the center who is dressed in bright red, with a hand holding up his index finger on his face.

He stood ramrod straight, his mask smeared with cake frosting; his limbs conveyed a sense of bewilderment.

DouDou recognized it at a glance; it was a group photo of the catalogers and researchers.

Aside from the cataloger who was the main character, everyone's poses were funny and quirky. Some people were mimicking Ultraman firing beams, some were doing somersaults halfway through, and some were even upside down with afterimages, as if they were about to fall over the next moment before the photo was taken.

Even through the photos, you can feel that strange sense of joy.

Interestingly, there's a line of small printed text in the lower right corner, which is quite verbose: "[19960602-Circular Agreement-Human Cataloging Center-Cataloger No. 2 and Research Support Group-Training Graduation Party Commemorative Memory]".

The string of suffixes made DouDou dizzy and lightheaded.

Hmm, this number... is it June 2nd, 1996? That's about three months ago. I don't understand, why take a group photo if they're not even showing their faces? And what's this "circular agreement"?

DouDou looked at it over and over again several times, and finally carefully put it into her schoolbag and clipped it with her textbook.
-
Tropical Cyclone [Willy] brought torrential rain to Mong Cai City this night—
Many people experienced auditory hallucinations. In severe cases, it sounded like a wedding or funeral, or a series of banging and clanging sounds in their heads.

The auditory hallucination phenomenon is particularly common in the coastal tea valley area, and it is often accompanied by symptoms of migraines and tinnitus.

"What's in the sea?": Some people say that.

Many others believe that this reflects the sincere dedication of the more than 100,000 students in Mong Cai to their studies, a dedication so profound that it even reached the ears of the heavens; or perhaps that Mazu, Bodhisattva, or some other powerful deity sent down a tropical storm so that the students would stay home and study diligently after school.

The reason, of course, is the content of the auditory hallucination.

Although the typhoon clearly came first, followed by the strange group auditory hallucinations...
As for the chronological order, or the reversal of cause and effect, minor logical fallacies are not very important. The idea that a thirst for knowledge transcends the limitations of time and space is no longer a particularly strange tale in Mong Cai.
-
But that night, DouDou was still unsure whether his words had gotten out, or whether they had given the rest of the group, such as the Eurasian Post, the Internet Promoters, and the Human Catalog Center, a warning.

He did have the idea of ​​keeping the cataloger and using him as a private radio station, but that's like growing flowers—if you know you can't keep them alive, it's best not to.

At this point, only he and the cataloger were left alive on the entire street; the cataloger looked like he was barely clinging to life.

Fortunately, due to flood prevention and control considerations, the municipal government had arranged for coastal businesses to close and fishing boats to return to port early on; otherwise, a chaotic fight on the beach could have resulted in countless deaths and injuries.

However, the cataloger seemed better off dying. His body was bent backward, and it was unclear which part of his spine was broken; his arms were twisted and crooked, like a bitten toothpick; but his tenacity was unexpected.

In the end, DouDou grabbed the cataloger by the back of his collar and took him to Mong Cai City Hospital—unexpectedly, the emergency room was bustling with activity:
Some were hit by falling utility poles, others were hit on the head by flowerpots falling from upstairs; and many more were drinking at food stalls in the rain during the typhoon, and then they would fight each other in the wind and rain until their heads were bleeding and their heads were wrapped in bandages like white mushrooms.

However, those who are still able to move around are only slightly injured. For some reason, there seem to be more seriously injured people; the indicator lights outside the emergency operating room are all on.

Some even bore several knife wounds, looking like gourds of blood—this was even rarer; fights were common in Mong Cai, but most were decided by fists and feet; real fights involving knives and guns were rare. Of course, Dou Dou didn't forget to eavesdrop on conversations between patients and their families—he found this to be his most efficient way of gathering information. Perhaps because of his youth, or simply because of the crowded and talkative environment, people didn't hold back in their conversations.

"He could not be saved despite all efforts. He suffered more than a dozen stab wounds; the hospital did its best."

"Epileptic seizure? Auditory hallucinations."

"Let's wait for the police to arrive. There are several injured people. Knife wounds? Or were they strangled to death?"

"Impossible. I'll listen too."

The patient kept insisting on going to school.

Scattered fragments of words:

It seems that many people have heard DouDou's mental broadcast through the cataloger, but most people's attention is still focused on some strange series of attacks.

For this reason, people didn't pay much attention to the catalogers' unusual attire.

But even after listening to everyone, DouDou still couldn't figure it out.

Oh dear, Mong Cai is really not a peaceful place.

DouDou patted the cataloger for a long time, trying to find some money—not to knock him down and plunder his money; but mainly to pay for the medical bills of the masked man who was on the verge of death.

Seemingly to prevent dust or liquid from getting in, this protective suit doesn't even have any pockets; naturally, there's no wallet either.

Oh dear! What should we do? Oh well, we've already delivered it all; he'll be lucky in the end.

After a moment's thought, DouDou left him at the hospital's emergency room entrance and then sneaked away: it was absolutely impossible for DouDou to pay for the medical expenses first; not to mention that he only had a few coins stuffed in the corner of his schoolbag, which was enough for the bus fare.

We can't exactly use the provincial library's library card as collateral, can we? Anyway, the name "[Human Cataloging Center]" sounds like it has a lot of funding, so it's unlikely that the catalogers would be short of medical supplies.

Perhaps it's because the cataloger of the [Ritual of the Circle] is more vibrant than he appears.

Before leaving, due to a sudden inspiration and a lingering curiosity—
DouDou then put her hand into the round hole in the cataloger's mask.

But this time, he touched the nose and mouth, which were covered with dried, scabbed blood, and the lips were broken in two like a cleft lip: the cataloger no longer seemed to be a liquid-filled sac, but had become a human again.

So DouDou poked herself between the broken teeth on the back of her head.

Unexpectedly, the fingertips felt firm and dry, almost like the texture of thick canvas or wet leather; they even tightened and relaxed rhythmically with the rise and fall of the heartbeat.

It was the dura mater inside the skull. All those sand-like foreign objects had vanished without a trace.

What's going on? Looks like I'm not really a punching bag after all.

It seems that his body returned to normal after the so-called [circle ritual] was stopped; I just don't know if there will be any aftereffects or anything?

Oh dear, I don't have time for that! I still have things to finish!

That's the last important thing to do tonight: go check on Ai Xi.

(End of this chapter)