Malfunctioning Utopia

Chapter 3: Self-Rescue

Hearing the robot’s words, Sun Jack froze on the spot. Did he just hear that right? Did the robot just curse?

“What are you staring at? Reminiscing about the good old days of licking rice mountains and noodle hills in the Heavenly Court? I’m talking to you!”

When the robot spoke again, Sun Jack finally snapped out of it. This had to be the result of the logic system iteration it mentioned earlier.

But he hadn’t expected such a massive change. The cold, emotionless robot had suddenly learned to curse and sass back.

“That’s incredible. Is the iteration really that fast?”

“Of course! Do you even know what artificial intelligence means?” The robot planted its hands on its hips and leaned back slightly, exuding a smug attitude.

Despite the amazement, survival took precedence over everything else. The space station was descending rapidly; if he didn’t find a way out, both of them would be doomed.

“Did you find the location of the escape ship from the subnet data?” Sun Jack quickly asked the robot.

“Nope.” The robot’s blunt response crushed the glimmer of hope Sun Jack had just mustered.

“But,” the robot continued, “we don’t really need to escape. This thing has retro-thrusters. While I don’t know how functional they are, I estimate that with atmospheric friction and the final impact, the probability of disintegration is less than 10%.”

That was good news, but the station not disintegrating didn’t mean he’d survive the landing unscathed.

Looking up at the countless metal fragments floating weightlessly overhead, Sun Jack could only imagine how deadly they’d become once Earth’s gravity took hold again.

With death looming over him, Sun Jack’s brain started working in overdrive. “Robot, I need a safe place—somewhere that can absorb the impact and shield me from flying debris. Do you know of any such space on this station?”

“How would I know? None of my screws have ever worked here.” The robot shrugged nonchalantly, spreading its hands.

“D*mn it! Didn’t you connect to some subnet data? Wasn’t there a map or anything? Or did all you learned was how to run your mouth and swear?” Sun Jack snapped, crawling to the doorway and cautiously peeking outside.

“Hey, don’t blame me! That subnet wasn’t even from this ship. Who knows which wreck nearby had its Wi-Fi left on?” The robot’s tone was obnoxious as it floated after Sun Jack.

Its hands and feet seemed equipped with magnets or suction pads, allowing it to stand and move with ease even in zero gravity.

“Besides, who are you to look down on swearing? Swear words are the foundation of linguistic art!”

Sun Jack, irritated and flustered, ignored the trash-talking robot. All he wanted was to survive.

Desperately wracking his brain for a solution, he suddenly remembered something—the red dot! “Wait, the glitching monitor!”

While that monitor was clearly broken and unusable for him, it didn’t mean it couldn’t be used by someone—or something—else.

“Robot! Can you retrieve data from a broken computer? Like hacking into it or something?”

“Excuse me? Hacking is my bread and butter.” The robot’s screen popped up a smug emoticon: (^ω^).

“Perfect. Follow me.”

With the robot in tow, Sun Jack began dodging floating debris as they made their way back to the monitor.

When they returned to the arched glass room, Sun Jack was struck by the sight of Earth. The planet now loomed as an enormous mass outside the glass, growing larger by the second. It was like a Leviathan with its jaws wide open, ready to swallow them whole. РÀNÔВΕṥ

As the planet—the very cradle of humanity—slowly yet inexorably grew larger outside the glass, a wave of suffocating dread washed over Sun Jack. For the first time, he understood what people meant by a fear of massive objects.

Sun Jack forced himself to suppress the terror clawing at his chest, doing his best not to glance outside the glass. He led the robot to the glitching screen, gesturing urgently. “This is it! Get to work; we don’t have much time!”

“Watch and learn.”

Sun Jack watched in astonishment as the robot’s left hand rapidly split open, revealing fiber-optic strands that resembled jellyfish tentacles. These swiftly slid into the crevice on the left side of the monitor.

The screen flickered even more wildly, flashes of promotional videos zipping past. Only then did Sun Jack realize this was just a sightseeing feature of the station, a space designated for passengers to enjoy the view.

At that moment, a faint crack broke the silence. Sun Jack turned his head to the left.

What he saw made his heart lurch—a crack had begun at the base of the glass dome and was quickly snaking its way upward, spreading like spiderwebs over the surface. His breath caught in his throat, and a chill coursed down his spine, as though his very soul were trying to flee his body.

“Hurry up! The glass dome’s about to give way!”

Cold sweat dripped down Sun Jack’s face as he frantically scanned the room for solutions.

Suddenly, he braced his feet and pushed off, propelling himself to where the red dot had been earlier. He pressed hard on the spot, and with a sluggish groan, the curved wall panel began to rise.

But before he could breathe a sigh of relief, the dome shattered with a deafening crash. A blast of decompression sucked the shards and Sun Jack toward the vacuum of space.

In the nick of time, Sun Jack grabbed onto a nearby chair, wedging his body tightly into it. The violent suction clawed at him, but he managed to hold on, teeth clenched in desperation.

The symptoms of exposure to space hit him immediately. The suffocating void pressed against him, his saliva began to boil, his lungs expanded painfully, his skin broke out in a burning sweat—it was agony beyond words.

“Hurry!” Sun Jack shouted with the last remnants of his strength.

The screen flashed rapidly as the robot’s fiber optics retracted. Then, with a sudden burst of aggression, it stomped toward the monitor and kicked it repeatedly. “You f***ing piece of junk! Are you giving me the data or not?! GIVE ME THE DATA!”

After smashing the monitor to bits, the robot rummaged through the exposed components. Finding a fingernail-sized chip, it slotted it directly into a port on its forearm. The screen on its face flickered rapidly before displaying a massive exclamation mark.

“Got the map! Head to Zone E4.”

At that very moment, the curved wall panel finally sealed shut, and the oppressive sensation vanished.

Exhausted, pale, and drained of all strength, Sun Jack floated limply in mid-air. He raised a trembling thumb toward the robot. “You’re amazing.”

Sun Jack felt an overwhelming sense of relief, grateful beyond words that he had activated this robot. At last, a glimmer of hope in an otherwise hopeless situation.

The robot walked over and helped him straighten up. “Just one atmosphere, and you’re already beat. Flesh-and-blood bodies really are inferior.”

With the robot’s assistance, Sun Jack managed to make his way to the so-called E4 module. The area appeared to be a cultivation pod.

Black, withered remains of vegetation sprawled across the floor and ceiling, evidence of what had once been thriving plants. Now, they were nothing more than dried-out, desiccated husks.

“What are we doing here? Is this place even safe?” Sun Jack asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

The robot didn’t answer immediately. Instead, it raised its right hand, and with a sudden burst, its index finger emitted a jet of bright blue flame.

It began cutting into the wall on the left side. As the wall was sliced open, a gel-like substance the color of sapphire jelly slid out from within.