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

At 02:49, 237 people in the space city already remembered opening a door.

No two people remember the same door.

The hospital nurse remembered that there was an extra ward at the end of the corridor. The door number was blank, but there was a regular beeping of an electrocardiogram monitor inside. She even remembered that when she pushed the door open, the hinges were heavier than usual, and her palm slid across the brass handle.

But that corridor has been enclosed by walls since the hospital was built, and there is only a ventilation shaft behind the walls.

The security guard at the exhibition hall remembered there was a staircase behind the model display case. The steps led downwards, and the handrails were covered in dust. When he reached the seventh step, he looked back and saw the case door slowly closing behind him.

In reality, the model cabinet is fixed to the wall, and you can't even put a hand inside from behind.

The maintenance team in the western suburbs remembered that under the manhole cover was a duty room with a yellow light on. Chen Rui could recall that a piece was missing from the edge of the lampshade, and there was a half-eaten cup of tea on the table with an old work order under the cup. When Zhou Jianguo asked him for the work order number, he immediately rattled off a string of numbers, only to realize afterward that it was the employee ID number he received on his first day of work.

The location, material, and opening method of the doors are all different.

All they remember is time.

03: 17.

The time that was clearly not yet here has already passed in those memories.

Some people said they checked the clock when they opened the door; some remembered that the door lock clicked open just as the radio announced the time; and some people didn't even look at any clock, yet could recite those four numbers without hesitation, as if 03:17 wasn't a time, but a nail pressed into their memory.

Qin Lan ordered all reports to be broken down and registered separately. The location column should only record the actual coordinates, and abnormal scenes should be listed separately; "remembered it happened" should not be written as "it happened before"; and no one should ask what is behind the door unless the person involved voluntarily states it.

Xu Wangshu added another point: First ask what your body wants to do.

Of the 237 records, 194 people responded that they wanted to confirm.

The first person to run into trouble was a subway night shift electrician.

He firmly believed that he had opened the tunnel side door at 03:17 AM and let in a woman wearing a raincoat. The woman didn't look up; water dripped continuously from her soaked sleeves. As she passed by him, she said thank you, her voice very soft, as if through a pane of glass.

But the subway has stopped running, the tunnel is dry, and it hasn't rained tonight.

"So this must be fake," the electrician told his colleague.

He spoke as he passed through the equipment room and headed towards the tunnel entrance. His steps were slow, his expression clear, and he even repeated the temporary rules along the way. He wasn't trying to let anyone in; he just wanted to check the lock on the side door to prove it had never been opened.

His colleague stopped him at the yellow safety line.

"I won't open it, I'll just take a look at the lock."

Why bring a key when checking a lock?

The electrician bowed his head.

A bunch of keys was already in his right hand, the tips of the keys peeking out from between his fingers. The outermost key was the key to the tunnel side door.

He stared at his hands, the certainty on his face slowly fading: "When did I take it?"

The surveillance footage showed that before leaving the duty room, he first turned off the computer, then grabbed a flashlight, and when he reached the door, he took two steps back and retrieved the key from the panel. His movements were as natural as a daily shift change, without any pauses or unusual commands intruding into the equipment.

"I remember I was there to check the lock," he murmured.

"Did you think that way before you even got the keys?" Xu Wangshu asked through the earpiece.

The electrician remained silent for a long time.

He couldn't tell the difference.

The outside world didn't control his body. It simply gave him an error that had to be verified. The more responsible a person is, the more they hate having contradictions in their records, and the more likely they are to take the appropriate tools and go to the door themselves.

If the door is still locked, he will go closer to check; if there is an old scratch on the lock, he will recall the resistance when the key turned; if a colleague asks again, "Do you want to try it?", every subsequent step can be interpreted as caution.

The door doesn't need to tempt anyone to open it.

It only needs to make "uncertainty" unbearable for a serious person.

Xu Wangshu added the following rules: The examiner must not carry any tools that appear in the memory, must not go to the corresponding location alone, and the physical condition should be checked first by a third party who does not know the content of the memory.

Qin Lan circled "unknown memory content" again.

"It's not about replacing his memories with someone else," she said. "Third-party organizations only accept the items to be inspected, not descriptions of abnormalities. If you're checking a door hinge, check the door hinge; if you're checking a seal, check the seal. You're not allowed to expand the inspection to cover specific details."

The subway authorities temporarily replaced the electrician with a new team they had never met before. The new team only received three tasks: verify the door magnetic records, photograph the latch position, and measure the dust accumulation on the door frame. The key was sealed in the original duty room, and the inspectors used a telephoto lens through the security bars.

The results showed no abnormalities.

The electrician's first reaction after hearing this was not relief.

"Where's the woman in the raincoat?"

As soon as he said it, he shut his mouth.

The third party was unaware of the woman in the raincoat. This item was not included in the actual inspection.

Xu Wangshu told him to write the question verbatim in the error log, without answering or deleting it. The electrician's right hand was still trembling slightly as he held the pen. He wrote on the paper: "I remember she went in. There is currently no physical evidence. This matter will not be dealt with for the time being."

Only after writing the last period did he take a step back.

The nuclear coverage in the western suburbs is even slower.

Zhou Jianguo told Chen Rui to stay in the repair truck and rolled up the window halfway to prevent him from seeing what was happening near the manhole cover. He himself didn't approach the manhole, but instead pulled up yesterday's closing photos and real-time high-resolution footage, aligning them one by one on the screen.

The positions of the six bolts remained unchanged.

The white mark left by the wrench next to the bolt on the east side still points towards the two o'clock position. The seal is intact, and the serial numbers are consecutive. A thin layer of dust has accumulated around the edge of the manhole cover. There are no shoe prints or crescent-shaped scratches left after the metal was lifted.

Zhou Jianguo then asked the unsuspecting duty officer to check the pressure curve. 03:17 had not yet arrived, and there had been no fluctuations caused by the activation in the past twelve hours.

"It's not open," he said.

Chen Rui sat in the car, his hands pressed against his knees: "But I remember there was a yellow light down there."

Remember that.

"Master, what if the lamp is real?"

Zhou Jianguo turned off the live feed to prevent him from continuing to search for evidence in the pixels.

"Then let it stay lit in your head for now; you don't need to pay the electricity bill."

Chen Rui forced a smile and asked, "Where's that work order?"

"Put your cup down first. Don't go down to get it."

More third-party reviews are underway.

The hospital logistics staff only checked the temperature of the corridor walls and the architectural plans, unaware that the nurses remembered the wards. The exhibition hall structural engineer only checked the fixing bolts of the model cabinets, unaware that there was a staircase behind them. The subway maintenance team only checked the door locks; no one looked for a woman who had never been in the rain for the electrician.

They don't know what the person involved remembers; they only examine what reality has left behind.

Fake memories are suspended.

It's not about deleting. The harder you try to forget, the more vivid the memories become.

It's not about forcing someone to admit they're crazy. The nurse could indeed feel the soreness in her wrist after pushing the door open, and Chen Rui did indeed remember the color of the yellow light falling on the rim of the cup. Feelings can be recorded, fear can be acknowledged, and shame and doubt can all be left on paper.

It's just that we don't fill that memory with the reality we've created.

Don't go through it again, don't use the same tools, don't stand in the same spot you remember. Let it stay in your mind, like a work order with an incorrect address—put it on hold, don't send anyone.

At 02:58, Wen Qingyue took the physical access key and walked towards Tianheng's underground authorization vault.

It was a gray-black key block that could not be copied remotely; only she and the board's monitor could activate it. The surveillance footage showed her avoiding the nearest elevator after leaving her office, descending two floors via the emergency exit, and then traversing an unconnected internal corridor.

She remembered that she had already canceled the last batch of old employee contracts there.

Her memory was crystal clear. She remembered the cold air conditioning in the authorization room, the blinding blue light from the terminal after it was turned on, and how she meticulously reviewed the compensation terms page by page before finally pressing the cancel button. Those contracts should have been dealt with anyway; some still contained provisions left by Wen Zhao during his temporary tenure, including lifelong confidentiality, unconditional access, and the transfer of liability for any incidents.

The wrong path led to the correct result.

Therefore, it is harder to refuse than a door that obviously does not exist.

Wen Zhaolin called out to her through the remote screen: "Is your decision to go in now yours, or is that memory making the decision for you?"

Wen Qingyue stopped in front of the elevator.

The indicator light was flashing upwards from the second basement level. With each flash, the memory of what had "been completed" became clearer in her mind, as if as long as the door opened, she could return to that outcome and make up for the correction that had been delayed for many years.

"The result is correct," she said.

Wen Zhaolin looked at her, and after two seconds replied, "I used to say the same thing back then."

There was no explanation, nor was there any attempt to persuade her to believe anyone.

This statement carries more weight than an order.

Wen Qingyue looked at the access key in her hand. She suddenly realized that she didn't remember when she took it out of the safe, only that taking the key was a necessary step. Just like the subway electrician who couldn't remember the moment he decided to bring the key.

The elevator has arrived.

The doors slid open to both sides, revealing an empty interior. The cold white light illuminated the metal carriage, identical to the one she remembered taking before entering the authorized warehouse.

She didn't go in.

Wen Qingyue took a half step back, put the access key into the transparent evidence bag in the emergency cabinet by the wall, and sealed it in front of the inspector. She then asked the other party to open a new agenda item, only writing "disposal of old contracts", without mentioning the underground authorization vault, and without using the revocation order she remembered.

She told the recording terminal: "I have an urge to take the correct action, so execution is temporarily suspended. The old contract will be handled separately, and the memory-specified path will not be used."

After saying that, she stood there until the elevator doors closed again.

After 02:59, the growth rate of abnormal reports began to decline.

It's not that false memories have stopped appearing, but rather that more and more people are learning to distinguish between "I remember" and "I need to do." On the main control room's large screen, a gray status has appeared next to the red alert: Recorded, not reproduced.

The gray lines lit up one after another, like the human world temporarily accepting that some things can remain unresolved.

At 03:09, the same person appears for the first time in all the false memories.

The first to report it was a hospital nurse. She said there used to be a staff member standing by the door of the empty ward, but she forgot to mention it when she asked earlier. She only remembered that the person's clothes were also gray when she saw the gray status bar.

Next was the exhibition hall security guard. He remembered that someone had held the model display case for him before he went down the stairs.

Chen Rui's face turned pale. He said that the half-cup of tea under the yellow light wasn't untouched; someone had been sitting behind the table the whole time, but he just couldn't remember that face.

The subway electrician finally spoke: "After the woman in the raincoat went in, he helped me close the door."

The four people were dozens of kilometers apart and did not know each other's memories beforehand, yet their descriptions overlapped at the same minute.

The person was wearing a gray duty uniform, without any organization markings. The name tag had no name, no photo, and no department.

Only number: zero.

He stood by each door, his posture so natural it seemed he had been working there for years. Some remembered him taking the keys, some remembered him holding the door open for them, and some only remembered how exhausted they were after opening the door, and how he patted their shoulder.

Then, he said the same thing to everyone.

"Don't worry, I'll cover your shift."

At 02:49, 237 people in the space city already remembered opening a door.

No two people remember the same door.

The hospital nurses remember there was an extra ward at the end of the corridor; the exhibition hall security guards remember there was a staircase behind the model display case; the western suburbs maintenance team remembers there was a duty room with a yellow light on under the manhole cover.

All they remember is time.

03: 17.

The first to encounter the problem was a subway night shift electrician. He firmly believed that he had opened the tunnel side door at 03:17 AM and let in a woman wearing a raincoat. To prove that his memory was false, he took the key and walked towards the door, ready to verify on-site.

His colleague stopped him at the safety line.

"I won't open it, I'll just take a look at the lock."

Why bring a key when checking a lock?

The electrician looked down and realized that the key was already in his hand.

The outside didn't control the body. It simply gave him an error that had to be verified. The more serious a person is, the more likely they are to walk to the door themselves.

Xu Wangshu added the following rules: The examiner must not carry any tools that appear in the memory, must not go to the corresponding location alone, and the physical condition should be checked first by a third party who does not know the content of the memory.

Zhou Jianguo told Chen Rui to stay in the car and didn't go near the manhole cover himself. He simply aligned yesterday's photos with the live feed. The six bolts were in the same position, the seal was intact, and there were no footprints in the dust.

"It's not open," he said.

Chen Rui was still uneasy: "But I remember there was a yellow light down there."

"Then let it stay lit in your head for now; you don't need to pay the electricity bill."

More third-party reviews are underway. They don't know what the person involved remembers; they only examine what reality has left behind.

Fake memories are suspended.

It's not about deleting, nor is it about forcing people to believe they're crazy. It's simply about not filling that memory with the footsteps of reality.

At 02:58, Wen Qingyue took the physical access key and headed towards Tianheng's underground authorization vault. She remembered that she had already revoked the last batch of old employee contracts there.

Wen Zhaolin asked through the remote screen, "Is your decision to go in now yours, or is that memory making the decision for you?"

"The result is correct."

"I used to say the same thing."

Wen Qingyue stopped in front of the elevator and put the access key into a transparent bag.

"I feel compelled to take the correct action, therefore execution is temporarily suspended. The old contract will be handled separately, and the memory-specified path will not be used."

At 03:09, the same person appears for the first time in all the false memories.

The man was wearing a gray duty uniform, and his name tag had no name, only a number: zero.

He stood by each door and said to everyone, "Don't worry, I'll take your shift."