Don't go to the moon, there are gods on the far side of the moon.

Seven minutes after the backup lights were restored, the first abnormality report came from the hospital's nursing station.

The nurse heard no sound and saw no white light.

She suddenly remembered that she had gone to the end of the corridor five minutes earlier and opened the door for a person wearing an old spacesuit.

That memory is so vivid.

She remembered the soles of her shoes stepping on the freshly mopped floor, the damp, rusty smell of the disinfectant, and the frost on the person's mask. She even remembered asking, "Family member or patient?" The person didn't answer, but simply raised their gloved right hand and pointed inside the door.

But there was no door at the end of the corridor.

There was only a white wall covered with a fire evacuation map. The surveillance footage showed her sitting at the nurses' station the entire time, changing the IV drip slip for bed number three. The on-duty doctor can testify to this, and the time on the IV drip slip can also attest to it.

But her palms were sweaty, and her right hand still felt sore from turning the doorknob.

When she raised her hand in front of the camera, her knuckles remained in a half-clenched position, as if the non-existent brass handle was still stuck in her palm.

"This isn't a normal hallucination." Xu Wangshu stared at the remote screen. "What she received was a memory that had already ended."

Hallucinations occur in the present moment; a person is aware of what they are seeing. Memory, however, carries its own sequence and causality, and it places doubt behind fact. The nurse didn't think she might have opened the door; she only realized the discrepancy after she was certain she had.

Qin Lan immediately stopped the original inquiry form.

The investigator in charge of the live call had just typed the first sentence: Who did you open the door for?

"Delete it," Qin Lan said.

You can't ask, "Who did you open the door for?" This question assumes the door has already been opened and forces the person to fill in the blanks with an object from their memory. Once she starts describing the face behind the mask and the room inside the door, no one can be sure whether those details come from anomalies or from filling in the blanks forced by the question.

Qin Lan changed the question into three parts: when the memory appeared, whether the action was performed in reality, and whether there was an urge to make up for it.

I don't ask the color of the door, I don't ask who's behind it, and I don't ask what that person said.

The hospital's hallway announcements were turned off, and the nurse remained seated to answer. For the first question, she couldn't remember exactly when the abnormality began; she only remembered that by the time she finished writing the IV slip, the door had already been opened. For the second question, she hadn't actually left the nurses' station. For the third question, she paused for a long time.

The nurse looked down at her hands: "I know I didn't go. But I always felt the door wasn't closed properly, and I wanted to go over and close it again."

After saying that, she subconsciously glanced at the end of the corridor.

The camera could only capture the white wall. But her gaze was fixed on something further inside than the wall, as if she were looking at a crack in a door that didn't actually exist.

Xu Wangshu's face darkened.

The outside no longer entices people to open the door. It first inserts the result of "the door has already been opened" into the memory, and then waits for people to fill in the actual action in order to correct that memory.

It's hard for people to tolerate something being just one step away from being done. If you forget to lock the door, you'll go back to check; if you suspect you've touched something dangerous, you'll wash it repeatedly; if you remember a door wasn't closed properly, you'll want to close it completely.

This is not an order.

It was merely disguising its actions as a cleanup effort.

Qin Lan instructed the hospital to add a physical barrier at the entrance to the corridor, but didn't send anyone to check at the end. Any inspection must be based on the actual work order; it's unacceptable to retrace the route from the false memory just to prove it's fake.

Lin Jibai tapped something in the toolbox.

[You can owe it now, don't make it up later.]

Xiaoman asked, "Can memories be lacking?"

[If hospital bills can be waived, why can't fake memories?]

Xu Wangshu ignored his fallacies but wrote "no actions may be performed due to the integrity of memory" into the temporary rules.

Lu Chenggong added an interpretation of the execution: The party concerned can admit that the memory exists, but does not need to make it complete, much less prove that they have the ability to complete it.

"What if you always feel like the door isn't closed?" the nurse asked.

"Let it bloom in your memory," Xu Wangshu said. "You don't need to be responsible for the walls in reality."

The nurse looked at the sentence and slowly straightened her half-clenched right hand. The soreness hadn't disappeared, but she didn't get up.

The second report came from the exhibition hall.

The staff member on duty remembered opening the Buzhou Mountain model display case; in reality, all three seals were intact. In his unusual memory, he used a mechanical key that only the curator possessed and placed a miniature balance lamp inside the model mountain.

The curator is at a centralized observation point 30 kilometers away, and the key is sealed in a transparent evidence bag. Surveillance footage shows that the duty officer kept watch over the closed overhead projector the entire time and did not approach the display cases.

But he could accurately say that the key teeth got stuck twice when the key was inserted into the lock.

The investigator wanted him to point out the location of the glitch on the spot, but Qin Lan stopped him.

"It won't happen again," she said. "The seals are verified by two people who haven't handled the report contents, and the staff on duty don't go near the model cabinet."

The verification results came back quickly: the three seals were numbered consecutively, the edges were not warped, and the pressure inside the cabinet remained unchanged. The evidence was mutually conclusive, except for that memory that was knocking on the door from the outside.

The third one came from the western suburbs.

Chen Rui remembered that Zhou Jianguo asked him to lift the XJ-0717 manhole cover about a finger's width and smell if there was a burnt smell underneath.

He remembered it very clearly. Zhou Jianguo held a wrench in his left hand and pressed his right hand to his waist, cursing the old well for skimping on sealant. When the well cover was lifted, a gust of cold air blew out from the gap, like someone breathing down from below.

Zhou Jianguo immediately berated him: "I must be out of my mind to let you use your nose to inspect the well."

"Master, so I didn't do it?"

"Look at the bolts, look at the work order, look at the wrench in my hand. Don't look at that movie in your head."

Chen Rui looked down. The four limit bolts on the manhole cover were all pressed against the newly painted lines, showing no signs of being turned. Zhou Jianguo's wrench had an anti-tamper tag on it, and he hadn't touched the bolts either.

However, a burnt smell did remain in Chen Rui's nasal cavity.

Zhou Jianguo handed him a clean gauze: "Smell this."

"It has no taste."

"Then make a note of it; don't try to cure your nose with a manhole cover."

Qin Lan changed this sentence to a formal reminder: Memories can be recorded, but are not used as evidence of behavior on their own; when abnormal memories of "having already done" appear, do not repeat them, do not reproduce them, and do not go to the location of the memory.

Reports began pouring in from all the nodes.

The security guard on the roof of the Tianheng Tower remembers re-hanging a spare weighing light, but the warehouse inventory, door sensor, and photos of the light fixture all prove it's still in its original position. The recorder at the lunar far-side lighthouse remembers approving an unnecessary light path, but the authorization column is unsigned. A keeper at the old weather tower remembers someone telling him to press his ear against the tower wall, but in reality, his safety rope never left the seat buckle.

Each memory borrows from the actions that the person involved is most familiar with.

There were no grand divine pronouncements, no unfamiliar incantations. It was just opening doors, hanging lights, signing documents, and checking things—simple tasks that even night shift workers knew how to do with their eyes closed.

Xu Wangshu arranged the reports according to the type of action. He didn't care what people remembered when he found the anomaly; he only cared whether those memories could leave an unfinished story.

The door wasn't closed properly.

The light needs to be powered on one more time.

The manhole cover was only lifted about an inch; we should check again to see if there's anything underneath.

"It's creating a sense of incompleteness," Lu Chenggong said.

"No." Xu Wangshu looked at the screen. "It's already begun. As long as people acknowledge that the first step happened, the second step will seem reasonable."

Wen Zhaolin sent a self-criticism from the review panel. He remembered that he had signed his name on the back of the authorization letter from the old Heavenly Court, but there was no such page in the actual archives.

Qin Lan did not ask who the name was, but only replied: "No searching for missing pages, no filling in the blanks from memory, and we will keep an eye on you."

Wen Zhaolin replied with "confirm" after half a minute.

Xiaoman sat by the toolbox, putting the original repair code manuscript of Lin Wangchuan back into the moisture-proof bag. She had just sealed it when she suddenly stopped.

She remembered that her father's hand had reached out again.

Not the hand that was hidden behind the metal shadow when she connected at twenty-seven seconds, but the one that had just emerged from the bottom of the toolbox, warm and rough, with an unnaturally bent index finger. That hand grasped hers and slowly wrote the character "open" in her palm.

That touch felt more real than a hospital nurse's doorknob.

She even remembered that after her father finished writing, he rubbed her wrist with his thumb, just like when he taught her to recognize maintenance symbols when she was a child.

Xiaoman lowered her head. Her palms were clean, with only red marks from her fingernails digging in.

After checking the records, Xu Wangshu wrote: "The remaining passage has been closed for seventeen minutes."

"But I remember his hands were warm," Xiaoman said.

"Remembering is not the same as having happened."

"What if it really is him?"

Xu Wangshu didn't comfort her with "absolutely not." Lin Wangchuan only had brief periods of consciousness left, and no one had the right to rule out any possibility.

"If it really is him, we still need to verify it," she said. "The last maintenance code your father left behind was for temporary support only, prohibiting prolonged standing. He wouldn't ask you to substitute 'missing you' for that permission."

Xiaoman closed her eyes and let that warmth linger in her mind for a while. She neither denied it nor chased after it.

Then she personally marked it: No real evidence, no further contact will be made.

Lin Jibai's weak voice came from the toolbox: "Old Lin's handwriting is so ugly, he wouldn't just write 'open.' He would write 'Open wrong, start over.'"

Xiaoman's nose tingled: "Can't you say something nice?"

"Yes," Lin Jibai said, catching his breath. "Your handwriting is better than his."

"It wasn't any better."

This brief argument brought back the sound of breathing in the control room. Xu Wangshu, however, did not relax. She froze all non-essential work orders and compared the "completed items" of the past thirty minutes with the physical records item by item.

Electronic signatures can be compromised, and verbal testimonies can be influenced by memory. So they reverted to the most basic method: checking seals, counting bolts, verifying paper numbers, and asking each other if they actually saw the action take place.

The rule was condensed into a single sentence and sent to all monitoring points.

Memories can be processed later, but actual actions must wait for confirmation.

After the transmission was completed, the main control cabin remained quiet for about ten seconds.

没有新的敲门感，也没有新的异常报告。系统时钟稳定跳动，02:45:57，02:45:58，02:45:59。

02: 46.

At that moment, a completed task appeared on everyone's terminal simultaneously.

There were no pop-ups, no submission prompts, and no sign of the submitter. It was as if it had been lying in everyone's schedule for a long time, only to be remembered by them all at this moment.

[03:17, Door entry confirmation completed.]

Current time: 02:46.

Qin Lan stared at the line of text: "It's starting to write the future as a memory."

Seven minutes after the backup lights were restored, the first abnormality report came from the hospital's nursing station.

The nurse heard no sound and saw no white light.

She suddenly remembered that she had gone to the end of the corridor five minutes earlier and opened the door for a person wearing an old spacesuit.

But there was no door at the end of the corridor.

The surveillance footage shows her sitting at the nurses' station the entire time, changing the IV drip slip for bed number three. The on-duty doctor can testify to this, and the time recorded on the IV drip slip can also serve as evidence.

But her palms were sweaty, and her right hand still felt sore from turning the doorknob.

"This isn't a normal hallucination." Xu Wangshu stared at the remote screen. "What she received was a memory that had already ended."

Qin Lan immediately stopped the original inquiry form.

You shouldn't ask, "Who did you open the door for?" This question assumes the door has already been opened and forces the person to fill in a blank with an object from their memory.

She changed the question into three parts: when the memory appeared, whether the action was performed in reality, and whether there was an urge to repeat it.

The nurse looked down at her hands: "I know I didn't go. But I always felt the door wasn't closed properly, and I wanted to go over and close it again."

Xu Wangshu's face darkened.

The outside no longer entices people to open the door. It first inserts the result of "the door has already been opened" into the memory, and then waits for people to fill in the actual action in order to correct that memory.

Lin Jibai tapped something in the toolbox.

[You can owe it now, don't make it up later.]

Xiaoman asked, "Can memories be lacking?"

[If hospital bills can be waived, why can't fake memories?]

Xu Wangshu ignored his fallacies but wrote "no actions may be performed due to the integrity of memory" into the temporary rules.

The second report came from the exhibition hall. The staff member on duty remembered opening the Buzhou Mountain model display case, and in reality, all three seals were intact.

The third one came from the western suburbs. Chen Rui remembered Zhou Jianguo asking him to lift the XJ-0717 manhole cover about an inch wide and smell it to see if there was a burnt smell underneath.

Zhou Jianguo immediately berated him: "I must be out of my mind to let you use your nose to inspect the well."

"Master, so I didn't do it?"

"Look at the bolts, look at the work order, look at the wrench in my hand. Don't look at that movie in your head."

Qin Lan changed this sentence to a formal reminder: Memories can be recorded, but are not used as evidence of behavior on their own; when abnormal memories of "having already done" appear, do not repeat them, do not reproduce them, and do not go to the location of the memory.

Xiaoman suddenly remembered that her father's hand had reached out again and written the character "开" (open) in her palm.

She lowered her head. Her palms were clean, with only red marks from her fingernails digging in.

After checking the records, Xu Wangshu wrote: "The remaining passage has been closed for seventeen minutes."

Xiaoman personally noted: No further contact will be made without actual evidence.

Lin Jibai's weak voice came from the toolbox: "Old Lin's handwriting is so ugly, he wouldn't just write 'open.' He would write 'Open wrong, start over.'"

At that moment, a completed task appeared on everyone's terminal simultaneously.

[03:17, Door entry confirmation completed.]

Current time: 02:46.

Qin Lan stared at the line of text: "It's starting to write the future as a memory."