Oh no! I'm surrounded by female ghosts!

New World, Headquarters of the Anomaly Management Bureau.

Chen Zhiwei held a half-burnt cigarette between his fingers.

The fireworks burned silently until a scalding spark touched her fingertips, bringing her back to her senses with a sharp pain.

Cigarette ash fell in a flurry, shattering completely on the smooth, cold ground.

The sound of shattered cigarette ash and the sound of the door opening rang out simultaneously.

It was Zhou Zhengyang. He dragged his tired steps, but his expression was very excited.

"Dr. Chen, everything is going well so far."

The New World's campaign to eradicate cults went very smoothly, without any unexpected incidents.

"I see."

Chen Zhiwei looked up and asked again, "Is there any difference between the current world and your saved memories?"

Zhou Zhengyang thought carefully for a moment, then shook his head: "Dr. Chen, there are no abnormalities at the moment."

The absence of any abnormality is the biggest abnormality.

They couldn't even find Zhou Zhengyang's memory archives.

But Chen Zhiwei discovered it.

Her thinking was restricted.

At this point, she could only review and deduce what was already known.

It is no longer possible to touch, conceive, or deduce any unknown beyond the framework.

Human thought has acquired a framework.

All thoughts, perceptions, and ideas are locked within this framework.

They can no longer touch anything outside the framework.

Under serious consideration, what remains is no longer a wild imagination, but only a cold reality.

Imagination gives birth to creativity.

Creativity is the sole core driving force for the progress of civilization.

When imagination is locked down and the unknown is erased, all possibilities for the future are wiped out.

Like fish that should have been swimming freely in the boundless ocean, they were ultimately reduced to fish kept in a tank.

The burning sensation in his fingertips lingered, yet Zhou Zhengyang remained standing, reporting on the situation.

Chen Zhiwei looked down at the scattered cigarette ash.

With a gust of wind, the fine ashes vanished without a trace, leaving not even a trace of warmth.

A self-deprecating smile, tinged with utter desolation, curled at the corners of her lips.

"We have already lost."

She once naively believed that she could represent all of humanity in challenging them.

But just a tiny, even laughable, counterattack led to true despair.

It wasn't a defeat.

Humans have never even been qualified to step onto the battlefield.

They don't care, nor do they mind.

"Dr. Chen?"

"What did you lose?"

Zhou Zhengyang's heart tightened, and he quickly said, "The cleanup of the cult is already in its final stages."

Chen Zhiwei didn't speak, but slowly walked to the window.

The sky outside the window was clear and bright, and the streets were orderly.

Pedestrians walked steadily, and vehicles moved in an orderly fashion.

Skyscrapers stand tall, lights begin to twinkle, and everything appears as if in a prosperous and peaceful era.

Today is more orderly and peaceful than any other day in the past.

But beneath this stability lies a stagnant pool, devoid of vitality and no longer flowing.

Chen Zhiwei spoke softly, as if to herself, or as if to tell Zhou Zhengyang, "In our world, there will never be anything new again."

Zhou Zhengyang froze, and subconsciously looked out the window.

His gaze swept across the streets, buildings, and crowds before he cautiously asked, "Dr. Chen, what is this 'newborn thing' you're referring to?"

"Everything on Earth is operating normally right now. I will report any abnormalities to you immediately."

Chen Zhiwei twitched the corners of her mouth, but there was no smile in her eyes.

"Yes, it's running."

"But it's just operating, not growing."

The first day my imagination was locked up.

The new world was free from earth-shattering upheavals, calamities, and the sorrow of countless lives lost.

No one's life has changed at all.

Everyone felt that the world was a better place.

Without unrealistic fantasies, without vague obsessions, without absurd and bizarre delusions, humanity has completely given up "daydreaming".

No one will ever again indulge in daydreams and waste their time, and no one will ever again cling to illusions, be obsessed, or go mad.

Everyone's thinking is rooted in a predetermined framework of reality; they are clear-headed, rational, and restrained, almost perfectly.

Students no longer seek answers outside the textbook, assuming that all knowledge is established truth.

The teacher no longer extended his imagination beyond the classics, adhering firmly to the established system and daring not to deviate even slightly.

A formula is a formula, a theorem is a theorem, history follows a predetermined path, and science yields fixed conclusions.

No one is curious about the end of the universe, and no one speculates about the origin of the rules.

Everyone accurately absorbs the knowledge left by their predecessors, applies it skillfully, and replicates it mechanically, without the slightest error, year after year.

The world's tolerance for error has been infinitely increased, and there are no more pointless disputes.

Because the root of the conflict is always the "unknown possibility".

When all possibilities are completely erased, and everyone's understanding is highly unified, there will be no more disagreements in the world, only a deathly silence of harmony.

This kind of gentle, imperceptible cage is the most deadly.

Like the resilient poplar in the desert, it can withstand barrenness and drought, and take root tenaciously in desperate situations.

But when it tries its best to deepen its root system, it can't find even a drop of water.

How long can it last?

Civilization withers away on its own without external destruction.

Without needing to look to the future, Chen Zhiwei had already seen the inevitable ending.

Human civilization does not collapse dramatically, but rather disappears silently.

The first things to die are all the tenderness and romance in the world.

There are no new stories in the literary world.

When a writer picks up his pen, all he can think of are the plot frameworks that have survived for thousands of years.

Love, hate, passion, joy, sorrow, and separation have long been predetermined.

They cannot conceive of characters outside the framework, cannot weave plots that have never existed before, and cannot write about destinies that transcend the mundane world.

All new books are just a patchwork of old stories, and all the words are a replica of past experiences.

There are no more stunning new works, no more novel insights that touch people's hearts.

When an artist picks up their brush, they only have the existing colors and composition in mind.

The shapes of mountains, rivers, lakes, and seas are captured in time, and the light and shadow of the sun, moon, and stars are solidified.

They could not paint landscapes they had never seen before, nor could they depict artistic conceptions that transcended reality; the magnificent fantasy they had imagined had completely vanished.

Paintings in the world began to repeat themselves.

The landscapes are all the same, the flowers and birds are unchanging; there is no longer any soul or ingenuity that belongs to the creator.

When musicians compose music, all that's left in your ears are the existing melodies and rhythms.

Whether melodious or passionate, soothing or tragic, all musical styles have long been defined by our predecessors, and all musical combinations have long been exhausted.

No one can create entirely new melodies, and no one can compose emotions that have never been expressed before.

The new songs are all remixes of old tunes; there are no new melodies that transcend the years.

Romance has faded, and warmth has withered.

The warmth and vibrancy of everyday life are gradually being swallowed up by cold, rigid order.

Then, technology and civilization slowly died out.

Humans can still repair old technologies, refine existing equipment, and optimize established systems.

They can make existing technologies more refined, more perfect, and more stable, but they can no longer break through any barrier.

The formulas of our predecessors can be repeatedly verified, but no further derivations can be obtained.

Existing theories can be repeatedly improved, but they can never reach entirely new fields.

The space team repeatedly optimized the speed and range of the spacecraft, but could never come up with a completely new propulsion mode.

Biologists study the gene sequences of existing species day and night, yet they can never break through the known barriers to life.

Physicists exhaust their computing power to deduce existing laws, yet they can never touch the unknown rules of the universe.

All scientific research has become nothing more than stagnant polishing.

There were no breakthroughs, no innovations, and no miracles.

The gears of civilization's progress have come to a complete halt.

Zhou Zhengyang couldn't understand the deep sorrow in Chen Zhiwei's eyes.

But a sense of panic slowly crept up his spine.

Because the way Chen Zhiwei looked at him was like looking at a corpse, or at lines of cold data.

"Old Zhou, our imagination has vanished."

Chen Zhiwei pointed to his forehead: "I can deduce the current situation based on known logic, but I cannot predict future changes or devise a way to transcend the current situation."

"I can't think of anything new."

"My brain is locked."

Zhou Zhengyang's pupils suddenly contracted.

He didn't have Chen Zhiwei's foresight regarding what would happen if his imagination disappeared.

All he could do now was suppress his panic and try to comfort Chen Zhiwei.

"Dr. Chen, it's just that your imagination has disappeared."

"The accumulation of our civilization over thousands of years is enough to support our development for a very, very long time."

"Is a long time meaningful?" Chen Zhiwei interrupted him.

Her tone carried a melancholic clarity.

"With water, food, and a safe environment, fish in a fish tank can live a peaceful life."

"But it will never know the vastness of the sea, the surging of the rivers, or the myriad ways of living in the world."

"We are, right now, like those fish in that tank, do you understand?"

"Day and night alternate, the sun and moon revolve, time continues to flow forward, but everything in the world is slowly solidifying."

"From today onwards, there will be no more entirely new and creative products on the market. All products will be iterative replicas of classic styles, monotonous, uniform, and orderly."

"Tomorrow, human entertainment will be completely stagnant. No one will invent new games or create new pastimes. Everyone will be repeating the entertainment patterns of their ancestors, day after day, without any novelty."

"A month later, even human emotions began to become unified."

"No one experiences absurd joy, no one feels delicate melancholy, no one has obsessive love, and no one harbors pure aspirations."

"All emotions are predetermined, standardized, and controllable, eliminating all abrupt, unknown, and vivid edges."

"We will become more and more rational, more and more restrained, and also more and more numb and cold."

"Children have lost their innate innocence; they no longer imagine mythical beasts while looking at clouds, nor fantasize about distant places while gazing at starlight, nor create fantastical fairy tales."

"From birth, they live within a predetermined framework, learn predetermined knowledge, accept predetermined rules, and grow into a predetermined form."

"Generation after generation, people are replicating the same life trajectory."

"Time has not stopped, but our human civilization is dead."

The vision of the future described by Chen Zhiwei made Zhou Zhengyang tremble all over and feel cold in his hands and feet.

That's not a fictional idea.

Because after losing her imagination, everything Chen Zhiwei described became the predetermined ending.

It will not change in any way, nor will it be an exception.

It will surely arrive as Chen Zhiwei predicted.

Chen Zhiwei lit another cigarette.

She took a deep breath, her hoarse voice carrying an endless desolation.

"Once upon a time, dreams were the exit from reality, and fantasy was the retreat of civilization."

"Human beings have broken free from ignorance through imagination, explored the unknown through fantasy, and broken free from constraints through absurdity, step by step emerging from barbarism, moving towards a new life, and arriving at the prosperous age we enjoy today."

Looking out at the bustling world, Zhou Zhengyang whispered the most desperate question.

"Dr. Chen, is there... any other way?"

The room fell into dead silence.

The entire world was locked down, everyone's thoughts were imprisoned, and even Zhou Zhengyang's memory archives could not detect anything amiss.

She had no choice.

She was simply able to see the decaying core beneath this world.

Silence was Chen Zhiwei's only answer.

Silence was Zhou Zhengyang's ultimate despair.

The sun will rise as usual tomorrow, shining its light on the world and illuminating the vast land.

Unbeknownst to anyone, their brilliant and boundless future had already quietly come to an end in an instant, unnoticed by anyone.

The new world outside the window is still brightly lit and bustling with traffic.

People were busy as usual, shopping, watching TV shows, and posting on social media.

Peaceful times and tranquility prevail.

Chen Zhiwei picked up the notebook she carried with her.

She had originally left Su Ming with a third short story.

But now, even she herself can't understand it anymore.

There was only one thing she could do.

He picked up a pen and wrote in his notebook.

[2020: Fish in the Tank]

We are still alive.

But we are no longer human.

[Recorder: Chen Zhiwei]