Chapter 128: Artificial Souls - Part 55 |
“Money isn’t an issue, but don’t take me for a fool,” Kui Xin said.
The doctor replied, “Ah, integrity is crucial in our line of work. I wouldn’t want to be assassinated by vengeful enemies while sleeping at night. Making friends is better than creating foes. Therefore, it’s important that I clarify my rules beforehand. You can then decide whether to proceed or not.”
Kui Xin scrutinized him. “It seems fair enough. Do you settle accounts with gold or digital currency?”
“A bit of both,” the doctor responded. “Gold can be tricky to spend, so use digital currency transferred to an anonymous private account.”
“I need to ensure you have the capability to perform this surgery,” Kui Xin stated.
“Oh, dear.” The doctor smiled. “Your condition must be quite unusual, then.”
He got up from his seat, walked to the clinic entrance, hung a ‘Closed’ sign on the door, and pulled down the rolling gate.
“All right, we’re alone now. Tell me about your situation, and after examining you, I’ll determine if I should perform the surgery,” the doctor said cheerfully.
“My skull was replaced with a metallic one, and now I want to remove the metal skull and replace it with a new one,” Kui Xin said.
He turned around, opened a crooked door at the back of the small clinic to reveal a subterranean passageway, and promptly descended.
Kui Xin scrutinized the underground passage before following him down.
Though outdated, the second underground floor’s equipment was well-maintained.
“These diagnostic instruments are old models that have been phased out of the market. Although they’re outdated, that doesn’t mean their test results are inaccurate; at most, they are just bulkier. The current instruments may look flashy, but they are ten times more expensive than these older models.” The doctor powered on the equipment and gestured for Kui Xin to sit in the chair.
A beam scanned over Kui Xin’s head, and the images were swiftly printed out.
Glancing at the radiographs, the doctor muttered, “There’s a slight complication. Your metal skull covers quite a significant portion of your overall cranial volume, extending from the frontal bone to the parietal bone. It can be done, but… there will be additional charges.”
“Can you find compatible bones here for installation?” Kui Xin asked.
“We have options in both metal and ceramic materials. Metal is more expensive, while ceramic is cheaper.” The doctor flashed a grin with his gleaming white teeth. “Which type would you prefer?”
“Metal,” Kui Xin replied.
The doctor said, “Alright, I’ll take your measurements shortly. We’ll schedule the surgery time and payment deadline accordingly. You can pay half as a deposit upfront and then give me the remaining half after the surgery is completed. How does that sound to you?”
“That works.” Kui Xin nodded. “I’m curious about something—do you perform surgeries on anyone without hesitation?”
The doctor astutely glanced at Kui Xin and responded, “There were instances where after treating someone, their enemies came causing trouble for me. If that’s what you’re referring to, I don’t particularly mind, but—”
“Does it mean extra charges?” Kui Xin finished his sentence.
The doctor affirmed, “You catch on quickly, customer! Dealing with people like you makes things a lot easier! Our black-market clinics operate in a gray area, lacking official licenses. Each day feels precarious; one report could shut us down, leading to imprisonment. We must constantly tread carefully. Of course, I need to earn as much money as possible while I can! As long as the payment is satisfactory, everything else is negotiable.”
“One more thing, can you keep this confidential for me?” Kui Xin asked.
“Of course, dear customer. You’re paying, so you’re my patron—why wouldn’t I maintain confidentiality for my patron?” The doctor smoothly replied. “I’m here, and so is the clinic; we still need to conduct business, unable to simply vanish. If I were a doctor who couldn’t keep secrets, I would have been long dead by now, unable to survive this long in the West District.”
“When’s the earliest you can start the surgery?” Kui Xin inquired.
The doctor said, “Are you in a hurry, dear? If it’s urgent, we can proceed tonight. We have metal bones stored in the warehouse; with some adjustments using the machines, they’ll be ready for installation.”
Most people seeking treatment at black-market clinics tend to be impatient. Everyone understands the saying, ‘The longer one waits, the greater the chances of complications.’ Those walking on the edge of danger fear delays the most, as the longer things are postponed, the higher the likelihood of unforeseen issues arising.
Kui Xin doesn’t continuously use Data Manipulation—it’s too exhausting. Therefore, Adam communicates with her through an earpiece.
“Don’t you think replacing your bone tonight is rather rushed?” Adam said. “What if Mechanical Dawn…?”
“If you have any good ideas, I’m more than willing to hear them.” Kui Xin connected her consciousness to the smart earpiece.
Adam seemed to ponder for a moment before saying, “Apologies, but it’s difficult for me to provide much input. Removing it might alert Mechanical Dawn, as we’re unsure what devices are implanted within your skull. However, without removing it, our next course of action cannot proceed.”
“Do you know about Schrödinger’s cat?” Kui Xin asked. “You probably don’t. Although the two worlds share certain cultural connections and similarities in historical backgrounds, there are also many differences.”
Adam replied, “Indeed, I am not familiar with it. Could you explain it to me?”
“It’s somewhat complex to explain… In short, imagine placing a cat in a sealed container. According to quantum mechanics and a bunch of convoluted theories, the cat exists in both a dead and alive state simultaneously. To determine whether the cat inside is alive or dead, one must open the container,” Kui Xin said. “You can relate this to philosophical contemplation—only by bravely lifting the lid to uncover the truth can you ascertain if the cat is indeed dead or alive.”
Adam said, “So to verify whether replacing your skull will suddenly lead to your demise, you plan to open up your cranium and become Schrödinger’s cat?”
“Yes,” Kui Xin replied.
“What if you end up as a dead cat?” Adam asked.
“Then I’ll be dead,” Kui Xin said.
“If you don’t replace the bone…” Adam continued.
“Theoretically, I would then be in a state of being both alive and dead,” Kui Xin explained. “A cat that is simultaneously alive and dead cannot emerge from the box; I can’t remain in such a state either. I need to open the container and see whether I ultimately turn out to be a dead or living cat.”
The “container” metaphorized their current predicament, while opening the container represented a gamble—betting on whether the cat inside was dead or alive.
After a moment of silence, Adam remarked, “Indeed, very philosophical, but now I understand your reasoning.”
Kui Xin said, “I’ve always thought you were a deeply philosophizing artificial intelligence, Adam.”
Adam responded, “Thank you. In that case, I’ll take it as a compliment.”
Kui Xin had to determine whether the cat was dead or alive; only then could she make plans for her next steps. Knowing beforehand was preferable to finding out after meticulously arranging everything, which would disrupt her plans and necessitate starting anew.
Following a brief exchange and contemplation, Kui Xin told the doctor, “Let’s proceed with the surgery tonight.”
The doctor promptly responded, “My account number is…” He recited a string of digits: “Payment upfront is required—a non-negotiable deposit of half a million.”
Kui Xin said, “Just a moment.”
She turned slightly, obscuring her actions with her body, and pretended to retrieve her communicator. Shortly after, the doctor’s communicator beeped—it was a message from the bank confirming that five hundred thousand had been transferred.
“I don’t have gold in me, and arranging for it would take time. For now, I’ll transfer electronic currency,” Kui Xin explained.
The doctor checked the text message multiple times to ensure that the money had indeed reached his account before proceeding to retrieve the metallic skull from storage.
After receiving the metallic skull, Kui Xin briefly examined it. She gently touched the skeleton, confirming there were no hidden compartments or tampering, then handed it back to the doctor for shaping adjustments.
“I’ve retrieved information about this doctor from the database. Li Minsheng, who specialized in medicine during university, is highly skilled, but a Level 5 Citizen. According to current laws, he lacks the qualifications to practice medicine.” Adam informed her, “He was demoted to a Level 5 Citizen due to an incident at the hospital involving an unusual medical accident, which led to a physical altercation with the patient’s family. The opposing party held some influence, resulting in the doctor being detained for half a month. Upon release, he was downgraded in status and lost his job. Even since then, he has been barely getting by in the West District, unmarried and childless, with both parents deceased in their old age.”
At first glance, he seemed like a pitiable person, and such unfortunate individuals were commonplace in the Second World.
Kui Xin watched as Dr. Li shaped the skull, then observed him immerse the prepared bones in a disinfectant solution. With a grunt, Dr. Li pushed over a cart, gesturing for Kui Xin to lie down on it. He then wheeled her to a sterile, isolated room on the second underground floor.
The entire surgery was performed solely by Dr. Li, with his assistant being the voice-controlled robotic arm nearby.
After completing the pre-operative preparations, Dr. Li was about to administer anesthesia to Kui Xin when she said, “Don’t give me any anesthesia…”
Dr. Li froze, stunned. “Are you crazy? The pain could make you go into shock! Even if you don’t trust me, surely there’s no need to take it this far. During the surgery, will you have the strength left to watch out for me constantly? There was once when I operated on a guy who feared I might sabotage things; while extracting bullets from him, he kept a gun pointed at me… You’re not planning to do something similar, are you?”
“I’m not particularly fond of feeling completely numb from anesthesia. Is there any alternative medication? Something that can alleviate pain without making me lose consciousness entirely,” Kui Xin asked.
Dr. Li was taken aback once again. Standing before the operating table, he hesitated momentarily before picking up a syringe and saying, “I have another type of painkiller here that can be administered to keep you awake while managing the pain. However, it’s not as effective as anesthesia, so you will still feel discomfort.”
Kui Xin responded, “Then let’s use that one.”
“Don’t try to tough it out; dying under my care would just cause more trouble…” Dr. Li warned.
“I’m mentally prepared for it,” Kui Xin said. “When performing the surgery, you must work swiftly, ensuring each incision is precise and clean.”
After administering the painkiller, once its effects kicked in, Dr. Li wasted no further time. The sharp surgical blade sliced open Kui Xin’s skin.
As soon as the first cut was made, Dr. Li understood why the patient lying on the operating table had given him such specific instructions—her wound and flesh rapidly began to close! It healed within mere seconds!
Dr. Li drew in a sharp breath, his expression turning grave.
He had never encountered such a challenging situation where surgical incisions could heal in less than three seconds.
“… We’ll need to charge extra…” Dr. Li began but suddenly paused. “Never mind, no additional fee this time. You’ve had it tough enough…”
Kui Xin looked at him. “Please continue.”
Dr. Li felt he was facing the greatest challenge of his professional career. He occasionally encountered awakened individuals who dwelled in the underground world and understood their nature; thus, he wasn’t overly surprised. However, he now had to alter his surgical approach. “We’ll have to peel back your entire scalp, perform the surgery, and then suture it back on afterward. Will your regenerative ability withstand this?”
“Theoretically, it shouldn’t be a major issue…” Kui Xin replied, “Just ensure my scalp is preserved well; I can’t afford to lose my hair.”
“Then let’s begin,” said Dr. Li.
The operating room’s lighting was blindingly bright, and robotic arms moved incessantly under Dr. Li’s instructions, handing him various surgical instruments. As the scalpel touched her metallic skull, amidst the biting pain, Kui Xin distinctly heard the crisp sound of metal colliding.
Holding the drill, Dr. Li slowly approached Kui Xin’s skull to dismantle her old cranial structure.
The disassembly process seemed remarkably smooth, with the fixator effortlessly removed. Dr. Li used a tool to grip Kui Xin’s metallic skull, preparing to lift it off. Just as the metal skull was about to separate from her body, Kui Xin’s “Absolute Prediction” ability activated!
Instantly alert despite her pain-induced haze, she opened her mouth and shouted, “Wait!” Simultaneously, she struggled to block Dr. Li’s hands with her own. However, at the very moment she uttered those two words, the metal skull beneath Dr. Li’s hand gave a sudden jolt.
A powerful electric current suddenly surged from that section of the metal skull. Unhindered by the metal’s conductivity, the current flowed directly into Kui Xin’s body, instantly destroying her brain.
In the last second before losing consciousness, she glimpsed Dr. Li convulsing and collapsing onto the ground out of the corner of her eye.
***
Darkness—an oppressive darkness that made it difficult to breathe.
In her disoriented state, Kui Xin once again heard those cryptic murmurs. The surrounding figures whispered among themselves, speaking words she couldn’t understand. Their gazes felt tangible, laden with thick malice, firmly fixed upon her.
She seemed to be floating amidst clouds, yet she was also like a drowning person, unable to grasp any lifeline no matter how hard they tried as if sinking underwater.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Kui Xin suddenly surfaced, awakening.
She heard Adam calling out to her, “Kui Xin! Kui Xin… Wake up, what happened? Kui Xin!”
With confusion, she opened her eyes and took several moments to realize she was lying face-down on the floor… Judging from the flooring pattern, she was in the staff apartment.
“Adam.” Feeling dazed, Kui Xin crawled up from the floor and said, “I’m okay… What time is it now?”
Adam paused before responding, “August 17th, 00:03 AM. You suddenly collapsed, and you were unconscious for three minutes. Your apartment lacks heart rate monitoring equipment; I thought you had died. What happened? Why did you faint all of a sudden? Did you encounter insurmountable difficulties in the First World?”
Kui Xin picked up the communicator, repeatedly confirming the time. A puzzled expression crossed her face.
The “Death Cycle” was triggered! Time reversed, and she returned to the past. However, she didn’t go back several days earlier to the Second World or even to the First World; instead, she found herself one day prior, just as she had returned from the First World to the Second World.
The duration of the cycle had shortened significantly!
A cold sweat instantly broke out on Kui Xin’s back, making her feel dizzy. She leaned against the wall, slowly regaining her composure.
With patience, Adam asked her, “What happened? What did you encounter?”
Kui Xin forced a bitter smile.
What did she encounter? She lost the gamble and became a dead cat.
“It’s nothing; I’m just too exhausted… Too exhausted…” She slid down along the wall, sitting on the floor with both hands covering her eyes and forehead.
Adam said, “You collapsed hard onto the ground, but the pain didn’t wake you up. I thought you had died in the First World.”
“I won’t die.” Kui Xin lowered her hands, a storm brewing beneath her calm gaze. “I won’t die, Adam.”