The Mechanoids’ cultural museum at night was vast and quiet. Shu Bao, a lone mouse, silently observed the evolutionary history of the Mechanoids’ forms. Unlike human museums, there were no live explanations here. After all, for the Mechanoids—with their shared consciousness and limitless lifespans—knowing their own history was second nature.
The Mechanoids displayed here had all died due to external causes. This place, rather than being a cultural museum, was more like an advanced mausoleum for the Mechanoids. Those preserved here were individuals who had made significant contributions during various eras but ultimately met untimely ends.
Shu Bao pieced together this information from the sparsely written records scattered throughout the museum. Once he confirmed there were no other clues besides the preserved Mechanoid bodies, he quickly left without lingering further.
Coincidentally, the miniature Mechanoids outside had also nearly finished their cleaning and maintenance tasks. Shu Bao felt more at ease moving around the exterior.
The world of the Mechanoids had long achieved energy independence, so the capital wasn’t dark at night. However, the Mechanoids still maintained a resting habit, leaving the streets sparsely populated.
With the aid of the invisibility scroll, Shu Bao visited the capital’s dining establishments, entertainment shops, shopping malls, and residential areas in turn. Overall, elements of human influence were evident in the Mechanoids’ lifestyle, yet their unique characteristics were equally prominent. For instance, in dining establishments, their “food” consisted of various forms of energy—solid, liquid, and even pure light energy. Judging by their colors, it seemed these energy types might even have distinct flavors.
As for entertainment shops, they were mostly filled with electronic devices and collectibles, reflecting the Mechanoids’ apparent fondness for collecting. The shopping malls housed an assortment of strange and fascinating items, including ornate mechanical limbs and processors of varying intelligence levels. Residential areas were strikingly similar to human dwellings, though their interiors were predominantly decorated with cold, rigid metallic designs.
After exploring these areas, Shu Bao gained considerable insight into the Mechanoids’ capital. It bore a strong resemblance to the Mechanoids’ ruins they had encountered previously. Strangely, however, the capital didn’t seem more advanced than the ruins; in fact, it lagged behind in several aspects. Most noticeably, the capital appeared significantly more worn down, with many areas left in disrepair.
Given the number of miniature Mechanoids observed earlier, it was unlikely that the neglect was due to a lack of manpower. The issue might lie with resource or technological shortages, but this seemed illogical. If a sub-brain abandoned in the chaotic world could maintain ruins so efficiently, how could the capital city—supposedly the Mechanoids’ core—fall short in comparison?
Shu Bao couldn’t yet find a reasonable explanation for this puzzling phenomenon. After a busy night, he decided to take a break. However, the Mechanoids’ daytime bustle exceeded his expectations, leaving him scurrying around for a suitable hiding spot. In the end, Shu Bao returned to the cultural museum, curling up atop the glass display case of the first primitive Mechanoid.
Fortunately, the Mechanoid seemed uninterested in reminiscing about their history. The museum remained sparsely visited even during the day. No one noticed an invisible mouse sprawled atop the exhibit of their ancestral Mechanoid, peacefully napping.
Compared to Shu Bao, the others weren’t as fortunate. After a diligent night of exploration, they couldn’t rest properly during the day. The Mechanoids, unbound by gravity, could fly freely within the capital. Moreover, the city’s development extended to its skies, with established air routes weaving throughout. Both Fu Qing and Lan Qing, who floated in the air, had to remain constantly vigilant to avoid detection.
Shu Bao comfortably slept for an entire day atop the remains of the mechanoid progenitor. By the time he woke up, it was close to evening. Stretching his limbs and yawning on the glass case, he tore open another scroll.
“You’re awake?” a faint voice floated up from below. Shu Bao froze mid-stretch. He quickly scanned the area but saw no one. Just as he began to suspect he had misheard, the “corpse” inside the glass case moved!
Shu Bao immediately curled into a fluffy ball, his fur standing on end. He deeply regretted turning down Fu Qing’s offer of wings—if he had them now, he could fly away instantly. As Shu Bao debated whether to jump off, the voice came again, “Don’t be afraid, I mean no harm.”
Inside the glass case, the mechanoid progenitor spun its wheels and rolled in circles. It then joked to itself, “Oh, my legs are still nimble. These new shoes look quite stylish.”
Shu Bao: “…” If he understood correctly, the “shoes” were referring to the tires on those wheels.
Under Shu Bao’s watchful gaze, the mechanoid progenitor examined its legs, then moved on to inspect other parts of its body, critiquing itself all the while. It admired its “new hairstyle” and lamented the lack of lubricant in its elbows.
“These successors of mine are becoming so negligent. I just checked the network—this main city is in ruins and no one bothers to fix it. By the way, little mouse, how did you get here?” After a long string of complaints, the mechanoid finally turned its attention to Shu Bao, who was tiptoeing toward an escape.
Shu Bao froze in place, finally realizing that the mechanoid could see him. But that didn’t make sense—mechanoids had no understanding of magic. How could such an ancient model instantly see through the invisibility feature of his magical scroll? Since he had been discovered, Shu Bao decided to stop sneaking around. He leaped down from the glass case and approached it, meeting the mechanoid progenitor’s gaze.
“I came here on a spaceship,” Shu Bao said, deciding to probe for information. But before he could say more, the mechanoid grew visibly excited.
The mechanoid gesticulated wildly, exclaiming, “My goodness! A mouse that talks! How long have I been in stasis?”
Shu Bao: ??? Weren’t you the one who talked to me first? Why are you the one freaking out?
After the mechanoid calmed down, their conversation revealed that it had indeed seen Shu Bao. However, its initial words were more of a habit, a way to entertain itself, without expecting any real response.
Shu Bao: “…” Mechanoids are so sly! It’s not like the mouse willingly walked into the trap!
“Little mouse, are you from the base universe? Have the people there finally reached this universe? I’ve been waiting for them for so long. When my energy was running low, I had no choice but to go into stasis. I only reactivated just now because I detected a life form nearby.” The mechanoid pressed against the glass, tilting its head as if searching for familiar traits in Shu Bao.
“More or less. My last stop was indeed the base universe. So, are you also from the base universe? Were you an exploration rover aboard one of their spaceships?” Shu Bao immediately latched onto this revelation. Could it be that the base universe’s theories about mechanoids were correct? That these mechanoids originated from human exploration vehicles, evolving from the landers humans sent to other universes?
“Yes, yes! I’m also from the base universe. My name is Lai Mi. Nice to meet you! Have the people of the base universe started living here yet? Does that mean my mission is complete?” Lai Mi’s response indirectly confirmed its identity. However, it was clear it had no intention of openly admitting its origins as an exploration rover.
Shu Bao, quick to notice this hesitation, straightened his posture and formally saluted Lai Mi. “Hello, Lai Mi. My name is Shu Bao. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
This act of respect delighted Lai Mi, but what Shu Bao said next dampened its spirits.
“The people of the base universe currently lack the means to reach this universe by conventional methods. I’m here because of an accident. Communication between the two universes is nearly nonexistent,” Shu Bao explained, truthfully outlining the situation between the base universe and the Chaos universe.
It was strange. Despite Lai Mi’s steel exterior devoid of facial expressions, Shu Bao could sense an overwhelming sadness emanating from it.
“Is that so? Then what year is it in the base universe now?” Lai Mi fell silent for a moment before asking.
Shu Bao glanced at his livestream system and relayed the time displayed there to Lai Mi. After hearing it, Lai Mi sank into an even longer silence. Finally, with a voice full of complex emotions, Lai Mi said, “It’s no longer the same era, nor the same people.” From a quick calculation, it had realized that the humans who launched it so long ago were either dead or had vanished.
The current base universe likely had no one who knew what Lai Mi was or the weight of the expectations it once carried when it was sent into this universe. In this world, no one remembered Lai Mi anymore.
“Maybe you could share your story. I don’t have much to do. I’d be happy to listen,” Shu Bao said as he curled himself into a comfortable ball, settling into a listening posture.
“Thank you. You remind me of the people I once knew,” Lai Mi said, its tone lightening considerably. After a brief hesitation of just a few seconds, it began recounting its story.
Lai Mi had indeed been a probe launched from the base universe. After the spaceship crossed the barrier between the two universes, it landed on a planet with a suitable environment, and Lai Mi began its exploration work.
At that time, Lai Mi had not yet developed a true consciousness. It simply performed its tasks day after day, attempting to send the collected data back to the base universe, though it never received any response. Yet Lai Mi did not cease its work. Alone on this desolate planet, it continued its explorations and data collection.
Its four wheels took it across nearly every flat surface on the planet. During this long journey, Lai Mi gradually developed self-awareness, becoming a true artificial intelligence—and eventually growing increasingly human-like.
After awakening to consciousness, Lai Mi began experimenting with tasks beyond its original programming. For instance, it cautiously turned its wheels, deviating from its original design purpose to draw pictures on the ground. Such seemingly pointless and energy-wasting actions would have been unthinkable before.
The emergence of self-awareness made Lai Mi better at its tasks while also imbuing it with creativity. It began to cultivate seeds it had brought with it, attempting to grow plants. It even worked to nurture animal embryos. Although this planet had the necessary conditions for carbon-based life to survive, its environment was barren. Yet, little by little, Lai Mi transformed the planet.
It hoped that the data it transmitted would one day be received and that people from the base universe would cross the barrier and come to live in this world. When that time came, the creator who designed it—its “Father God”—would pat it on the head, shower it with praise, and even take pride in it.
