Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 25 The Graveyard of Data
He cannot use data to defend his choice, because the biggest, counter-evidence is the very existence of the small boat.

"Probability..." Xiao Zhou's electronic voice seemed to have a very subtle, mocking undertone, "My death is your... update, A Zhe?"

"……Why……"

On the screen, Xiaozhou's image "took" a step forward, its face distorted and twitched due to signal interference, but the emptiness and pain in its eyes pierced through everything between virtual and reality:

"...It was me who died..."

"...You're the one who survived..."

“…Ah Zhe…why…”

Every word was like a cold chisel, driving deep into A Zhe's soul.

Xiao Zhou's image suddenly raised its hand, pointing beyond the screen, pointing at A Zhe:
"...You paid for your ticket with my life...Ah Zhe..."

"...Are you alive and well now...?"

"...Look at me...answer me...!"

The last sentence is almost an overlay of countless voices: the voice of the small boat, the voice of the swallowed wanderers, and the roar of all the painful data.

"what!!!"

A Zhe's screams and cries of utter mental collapse.

The technologically rational world he believed in and relied on for survival collapsed in the face of the "error code" written with his best friend's life, revealing the abyss of nihilism beneath.

At that very moment, the emotional energy vacuum caused by A Zhe's breakdown, and the absolute stillness that Xiao Zhou experienced after completing the "audit," created the perfect opportunity for Xu Yan!
"Now!" Xu Yan completely connected his will with the mixed runes and the camera!

Chen Zhiwei chanted a soul-soothing incantation, and the soul-suppressing bell emitted an unprecedentedly clear sound, forcefully creating a space in this digital hell.

Just then, Ah Zhe gasped sharply, as if something had pierced his eyeballs, and he almost knelt down.

"They...they are reading me!"

Veins bulged on his forehead as he stared at the surging sea of ​​data, his voice sharp and almost distorted, "Those remnants aren't being contained, they're... re-remembering me!"

In just a few seconds, his reaction seemed to interrupt the entire ceremony, abruptly halting the oppressive rhythm.

Xu Yan's heart tightened. He realized that if he hesitated, even A Zhe might be taken away.

He issued an edict, which served both as a prayer for the deceased and as a warning:
"Form disperses into code, meaning vanishes into flow, and all things ultimately return to nothingness!"

"But the scars, the pain, the questions here cannot be erased!"

"Now, let data serve as your coffin, silence as your tomb, grant you peace, and seal this evidence!"

"Guide! Archive!"

It was as if an invisible dam had been suddenly breached!

This is not a simple technical operation, but a kind of "etiquette" in the digital age.

It is to give dignity to the deceased, to respect the fact that they "existed," and to prevent history from being distorted and tragedies from being erased.

The massive, roaring data storm let out a deafening wail, a mixture of relief and resentment, and finally, like a flood that had found its way back to the abyss, it was frantically sucked into the massive, silent offline tape library deep inside the laboratory!

The hum of the high-speed robotic arm drowned out all other noise, writing endless pain and shattered consciousness into countless black, cold magnetic tapes, sealing them away forever.

The mechanical hum was the final requiem.

On the screen, Xiaozhou's questioning image began to fade, and her eyes, filled with pain and confusion, took one last "look" at the world before slowly closing.

A clean, innocent, yet incredibly distant smile appeared for a fleeting moment.

Xu Yan stared blankly.

It was as if those memories, all that pain and struggle, had finally found eternal silence and fallen into a deep slumber.

He slowly straightened up, feeling an unprecedented sense of exhaustion, as if his spirit and body had been completely hollowed out.

Behind him, Ah Zhe's voice rang out again after a long time, unusually dry, as if every word had been uttered with all his might:

"……it's over?"

"Mmm," Xu Yan replied wearily. "...Thank you."

He pulled a tightly sealed black chip, about the size of a fingernail, from the inside pocket of his coat. Without explanation, hesitation, or even any extra movement, he simply flicked it with his finger.

The chip traced a faint arc and landed precisely at Xu Yan's feet.

“Just insert the encrypted terminal card slot.” A-Zhe’s voice was dry, like sandpaper scraping. “...It’s not the complete ‘soul archiving and stripping’...it’s the early part of the project…the basic theory and enhancement framework for ‘consciousness anchors’…”

He paused, as if he had exhausted all his strength to utter each word.

"...Perhaps...it can help you...to nail it a little more firmly before you completely lose your way."

After saying that, he didn't linger, and didn't even wait for Xu Yan's response.

He walked quickly and disappeared into the dimly lit passage without looking back, as if staying even a second longer would suffocate him.

Xu Yan bent down and picked up the cold chip.

It is small, yet surprisingly heavy.

This is not a generous gift; it is more like a bloodstained confession from the abyss, a twisted indulgence.

It is the only thing that A Zhe could dig out from the ruins of his own collapsed faith, perhaps still carrying a trace of "humanity".

It couldn't save the small boat, but perhaps... it could help Xu Yan avoid becoming the next one.

Chen Zhiwei stepped forward, looking worriedly at Xu Yan and the chip in his hand.

Xu Yan silently gripped the chip tightly, its cold edge digging into his palm.

This newly completed data graveyard marks the end of the previous tragedy.

They witnessed a tragedy born of ambition and paranoia, and held the quietest funeral for one of its most painful fragments.

This kind of death is more shocking and nihilistic than any ghostly attack.

Just as he was about to turn and leave—

"Di."

The indicator light on the bottommost tape suddenly flashed.

The eerie green light was particularly glaring in the deathly silence.

Immediately afterwards, the green light suddenly jumped and quickly turned into an ominous, blinding scarlet red!
On the main control screen, garbled characters scrolled wildly, finally freezing into two perfectly clear Chinese characters:

"remember."

The deathly silence of the data backup center was left behind, but it lingered like an invisible data residue, clinging to the depths of consciousness, continuously releasing cold, inhuman low-frequency noise.

Returning to the "Forgotten Photo Studio," the warm glow of the ever-burning lamp seemed unable to completely dispel the chill originating from the digital abyss.

Xu Yan stood under the red light in the dark room and slowly pulled open his collar.

In the mirror, the bluish-black handprint on his right shoulder was clearer and deeper than yesterday, the five fingers twisted and grotesque, as if slowly taking root downwards, trying to lock him firmly into this skin.

The touch of the fingertips is a chilling sensation that pierces the soul, accompanied by a subtle, new kind of gnawing feeling that originates from within.

It was no longer purely cold and gloomy, but rather possessed a certain precise and efficient digital characteristic, as if countless tiny codes were synchronously parsing and assimilating his life signals.

It's evolving.

They use the pain of swallowing data as nourishment to accelerate their adaptation to this era.

This clearly confirms Azhe's crazy "quenching" theory.

This also reaffirms the cruel logic of Xu Yan's survival:

He must constantly seek out more powerful and unique "feed," actively throwing himself into more dangerous supernatural events, not to defeat them, but merely to feed the gradually awakening beast on his shoulder, in order to delay his eventual complete being devoured.

This is a race against despair, and the only direction he runs is a deeper, darker abyss.

　Today is the Ghost Festival, and those who watch Xu Yan exorcise ghosts in the middle of the night are truly brave.
　　
　
(End of this chapter)