Genius Club

(This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation)

“Listen, listen, listen!”

The young girl, CC, suddenly stepped back, her face pale with fear.

“There really are ghosts in here!”

“Hey, hold on…”

The bearded man couldn’t help but laugh, albeit awkwardly.

“You weren’t scared of those gun-toting lunatic bandits, nor of the fierce beasts prowling in the jungle, nor even sneaking out at night to steal a gun. But now, you’re trembling just because of some strange crying sound?”

He found it unbelievable.

Those other dangers were far worse than this supposed “ghostly wailing.” Every one of them was a life-or-death scenario, practically invitations to the grave. Yet CC had faced them all without flinching. Now, at the sound of crying, her face was drained of color.

CC looked up, her eyes shaking slightly.

“This crying clearly isn’t normal!”

“Relax, I’m sure it’s not crying.”

The man stroked his beard as he analyzed.

“What kind of hero or ghost cries non-stop for over a hundred years? Forget a hundred years—your father came here just a few months ago. What kind of steel-throated being could keep crying continuously for months?”

“That’s why I’m saying it’s a ghost!” CC, clearly not a materialist, stubbornly insisted on her ghost theory.

The more the man stroked his beard, the more into it he got.

To the point where…

He was actually enjoying it. Shaking his head, he reasoned:

“Even if it were a ghost, crying non-stop for months would tire it out. What kind of ghost has such dull persistence? It’s not a ghost. Stop letting your imagination run wild.”

“…”

Faced with his counterarguments, CC found herself momentarily speechless.

It was a decisive victory for materialism over idealism.

That said, the man’s explanation was both logical and convincing, which helped calm CC down.

Her fear stemmed largely from preconceived notions.

Before this, her father, a highly capable hunter whom she idolized, had claimed there were ghosts here. CC had never doubted him. Thus, at the first sign of crying, her mind leapt straight to ghosts without entertaining other possibilities.

The bearded man, on the other hand, was different.

He hadn’t even considered ghosts as a possibility from the beginning.

It seemed certain faculties—like logic and judgment—didn’t vanish just because of memory loss.

“Hmm…”

Closing his eyes, the man carefully listened to the cries echoing from deep within the research institute ruins.

“Don’t say anything for now. Let me listen closely.”

He noticed the cries followed a distinct pattern, repeating in a consistent rhythm.

This further convinced him it wasn’t human or ghostly wailing.

As they moved closer, the sound became clearer:

“Woo… woo woo…”

“Woo… woo woo…”

“Woo… woo woo…”

Indeed.

It repeated in a steady pattern.

The man tapped the rhythm with his finger against his gun holster:

Tap… tap-tap-tap. Tap… tap-tap-tap. Tap… tap-tap-tap.

“It sounds like an alert tone,” he concluded, opening his eyes.

“A mechanical tone, or perhaps a warning signal—completely devoid of emotion or variation.”

Listening to his thorough analysis, CC lowered her guard and stepped forward, covering one ear to focus.

“Hmm… You’re right. It’s not as scary when you think about it that way. Plus, considering the geography—these towering, jagged mountains all around—it’s nearly impossible for anyone to get in or out of here.”

“Under these circumstances, the chances of someone surviving inside are practically nil.”

The man stepped out and instructed CC to make two more torches. Then, he handed her a few wild fruits.

“Alright, let’s stick to the plan we discussed earlier. If we encounter any unidentified creature, no matter what it looks like, just toss one of these fruits at it,” he explained.

“If the fruit bounces back, I’ll point my gun at it and see if we can communicate. But if the fruit passes right through its body… well, there’s nothing more to say. We’ll turn around and run.”

“Got it!” CC nodded firmly, clutching her makeshift “solid detector” tightly.

With their preparations complete, the duo advanced deeper into the research institute ruins. The man held his pistol in his right hand while CC grasped a wild fruit—a strange name, a strange setup, and a pair always engaging in strange activities.

The research facility wasn’t very large, and many of its passageways had been severed by the jagged, rising mountains. It took them only about ten minutes to thoroughly explore the first floor.

But then, they hit a dead end.

There were no stairs leading to the second floor, nor could they find an access point to the underground levels.

“VV, what now?” CC, now entirely fearless, rubbed the wild fruit in her hands as she pondered.

“The stairs to the second floor must have been crushed or destroyed during the earthquake years ago. If we want to reach the second floor, we’ll have to figure out how to climb from the outside,” she suggested.

“However… judging by the ‘woo… woo woo’ sound, it seems to be coming from underground.”

The bearded man nodded.

“If the sound is traveling up from below, there must be some kind of passageway. Let’s first locate the spot where the sound is loudest and clearest, then look for an entrance to the underground levels nearby.”

Soon, the two arrived at the spot where the sound was loudest.

Here, the “woo… woo woo” noise became unmistakably clear. On closer listening, it didn’t resemble crying at all but instead sounded more like a mechanical tone: “Doo—doo doo doo—”

“It must be a machine of some sort,” CC remarked.

Their efforts paid off.

In the dim, crisscrossing pathways of the ruins, they discovered a crack in the floor. This fissure connected to an underground space, allowing them to pass through and reach the first basement level.

“Shall we go in?” CC looked at the bearded man.

“Let’s toss a torch down first.”

The man threw a torch into the crack and carefully observed the surroundings.

Nothing unusual. It was just ruins.

The torch continued to burn brightly, showing no signs of extinguishing or dimming, which indicated that the underground space wasn’t entirely sealed off. The air quality was decent, and the flickering flames revealed the presence of airflow.

In summary, it was safe to proceed.

Thud. Thud.

Both of them were nimble, easily making their way through the crack and into the basement.

The moment they landed, the “doo doo doo” sound became significantly louder.

“See? I told you—it’s obviously not crying,” the man said with a grin.

“Doo—doo doo doo—probably, as you mentioned, some kind of mechanical alarm or malfunction sound. Since this is a research facility, it’s not surprising that some equipment might still be operational. At least… it’s more realistic for a machine to run for over a hundred years than for someone to cry continuously for a century.”

“The only thing I don’t quite understand,” he added, “is that this place seems entirely cut off from external power. So where has the electricity been coming from for all these years?”

“Micro nuclear batteries.”

CC responded without hesitation.

“The equipment in this facility likely runs on micro nuclear batteries as a backup energy source—or perhaps they were powered by such batteries from the start. These batteries can provide energy for hundreds of years without any issues.”

“Huh?”

The man turned his head, blinking in surprise.

“What’s that?”

“Micro nuclear batteries,” CC repeated.

“I don’t know exactly what they are either. They’re rarely seen in Brooklyn. I only heard about them from the elders and adults—supposedly, they’re batteries with nearly infinite energy.”

“Something like that actually exists?”

The man was astonished but also skeptical.

“From what you’re saying, they’re rare in Brooklyn. Does that mean they’re common elsewhere? Why is that?”

“Given our current level of technology, it’s impossible to manufacture something so advanced anymore. So, where are these micro nuclear batteries from?”

“They’re dug up from underground, of course.”

CC smiled slightly, her crescent-shaped eyes gleaming as she looked at him.

“Just like you—they’re all found underground.”

“But remember what I told you before? Brooklyn was once the private property of a super-rich individual and completely uninhabited. If no one lived here, how could there possibly be micro nuclear batteries?”

“After all… this type of micro nuclear battery is primarily used in cars, household appliances, and electronic products. It can only be mined in densely populated areas, which is why it’s so rare here in Brooklyn.”

“Oh.”

The man suddenly understood.

“So, that’s the reason life in Brooklyn lags far behind other places, and its development level is much lower too.”

“Exactly.”

CC held up her torch, looking around as she answered.

“The outside world is vast. We don’t know exactly what it’s like, but it should be far more developed than Brooklyn.”

“If we had knowledge, energy, and leadership, perhaps Brooklyn could also thrive. Unfortunately… we have none of that. We live a life that’s practically primitive.”

” Above Brooklyn, planes sometimes fly over, circling endlessly. No one knows what they’re searching for; surely, they must come from a highly advanced place. ”

“Planes?”

The man furrowed his brows.

“You mean those airborne vehicles? In this backward and dilapidated era, there are still planes? How is that possible?”

“That’s unclear.”

CC shrugged and glanced back at the man.

“As I said, the world is big. Who knows what’s going on in places far away?”

“Maybe some cities survived the Super Catastrophe of 2504. Perhaps those planes are relics of the old era, still functional due to their superior craftsmanship.”

“Of course, there’s also the possibility that in a distant place, a completely intact city can still manufacture planes. But… that has nothing to do with us. Whatever life they’re leading out there doesn’t affect us.”

“That’s true.”

The man agreed with CC’s words, pushing open a decayed door as they continued deeper into the ruins of the research facility .

The farther they went, the louder the beep-beep-beep sound grew, confirming they were heading in the right direction.

“Speaking of those planes, what on earth are they looking for?”

The man’s curiosity lingered.

“Since they often come here, they must have a specific purpose, right?”

“That, I don’t know.”

CC admitted her ignorance, shaking her head.

“I heard from the village elders that these planes started appearing right after the Super Catastrophe of 2504. Shortly after the disaster, planes began circling the Brooklyn area, staying for a long time before leaving.”

“Since then, planes have occasionally flown over to circle. They come almost every year… no one knows where they come from, and no one knows what they’re searching for.”

“Alright then.”

Seeing CC knew nothing more, the man refrained from asking further.

He was simply astonished by the technological disparity of this era.

Some regions lived primitively, akin to a slave society, while others had planes and infinite energy.

It was hard to imagine such stark contrasts could exist on the same planet.

Beep—beep-beep-beep—

Beep—beep-beep-beep—

The mechanical sound grew closer and louder, almost piercingly loud at this distance.

Ahead of them lay what seemed to be a machine room , and the grating alarm sound was emanating from within.

“Finally, we’ve found the source.”

The man pointed to a sealed metal door ahead.

Under the torchlight, the door gleamed as if brand new, radiating a faint silver glow, untouched by time.

Made of exceptionally durable material, the door seemed nearly indestructible.

But…

The severe geological upheaval from the Super Catastrophe had torn through the research facility, causing structural deformation.

The gleaming silver door remained intact, but the adjacent wall had collapsed, leaving a large hole. The eerie wailing—actually a mechanical alarm—was coming from the other side of the hole.

“Let’s go take a look.”

The bearded man gestured toward the dark hole, faint red and green lights flickering within.

“Since it’s confirmed to be mechanical sounds, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Mm-hmm.”

CC had long accepted the reality, tucking her wild fruits into her pocket and following the man into the abandoned machine room.

Inside…

Everything in the room sparkled.

The machinery appeared to be made of the same sturdy, gleaming material as the silver door, withstanding the passage of centuries without a single scratch.

It was this durability that had kept the machines operational for so long.

“Is this… a timer?”

The man scanned the room, noticing walls covered in red and green letters that constantly changed. Closer inspection labels revealed in English: days, hours, minutes, and seconds.

The complexity of the numbers overwhelmed him, so he decided to look at something else.

The man stepped into the center of the room.

There, he saw a sealed sphere—a solid, opaque structure. When he tapped on it, it was evident how sturdy it was. Nothing inside could be discerned.

Beneath the enormous sphere lay numerous cables, as thick as an arm, radiating outward to the surrounding walls. Each cable connected to a monitor, creating an image akin to a giant octopus stretching its limbs.

The man bent down and counted the cables. “20… 21… 22,” he muttered under his breath.

At the same time, CC, who was counting the monitors on the walls, finished as well. “VV, there are 22 monitors here on the walls. Each monitor displays a constantly changing string of numbers. Among them, 21 numbers are green, and only one is red.”

The man raised his head to look at the overwhelming display of green numbers, their rapid changes making his eyes blur.

These 21 rows of green numbers were indeed timers. Though they each showed slight variations, the difference was minimal, and all were steadily counting upward.

For instance, the timer on the monitor labeled “1” displayed:

40932 days, 07 hours, 32 minutes, 41 seconds.

After a blink, the numbers shifted to 40932 days, 07 hours, 32 minutes, 42 seconds.

Meanwhile, the timer on monitor “2” was slightly behind, showing:

40932 days, 07 hours, 16 minutes, 11 seconds.

Although slower, it was still ticking upward, second by second.

The man mentally calculated. “The year is 2616 now. Forty thousand days is roughly 112 years. This means these timers began counting from the year…”

“2504.”

He squinted his eyes. “How coincidental. It’s the exact year of the Super Catastrophe. Could there be some special significance?”

“That doesn’t make sense, VV,” CC said, spinning in place to examine the seemingly random timers. “If these timers started from the year of the catastrophe, shouldn’t they all show the same time? But look—every green timer is different, and the time discrepancies have no discernible pattern.”

“What’s even more baffling is… why are all 21 green timers counting up, while the only red timer here is counting down?”

The man and CC turned their heads simultaneously.

There it was: a single red timer on their right.

Unlike the green timers, the red numbers were much smaller—and they were decreasing. It displayed:

2925 days, 11 hours, 54 minutes, 33 seconds.

Then, 2925 days, 11 hours, 54 minutes, 32 seconds.

And then, 2925 days, 11 hours, 54 minutes, 31 seconds.

…

The red numbers, pulsing like a heartbeat, ticked downward second by second.

Moreover, the persistent alarm sound—a “beep… beep-beep-beep”—was emanating from this very monitor.

This was the source of the eerie crying-like noise.

It was unsettling. Out of 22 timers, why was this one counting down?

The cold red glow of the numbers added an inexplicable tension to the room, a creeping sense of urgency.

The man stroked his beard, feeling a growing unease. “If the ascending timers started with the Super Catastrophe in 2504, then the countdown timer… could it be counting down to a future date?”

“Let’s calculate, CC. Based on today’s date displayed on the electronic clock, we can figure out the exact date when this red timer will reach zero.”

The man picked up a piece of paper from the floor. However, it disintegrated into fragments as soon as he touched it, rendering it unusable.

With no other option, he grabbed a sharp stone and began performing calculations on the wall.

Fortunately, his memory loss hadn’t affected his basic skills. His addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division were still precise and fluid.

Line by line, his calculations filled the wall. Finally, he arrived at the answer.

The man took a step back, inspecting the result written on the wall:

“The red countdown will reach zero on—”

2624, August 29th, 00:42:00.

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation