Malfunctioning Utopia

Chapter 4: Earth

“This gel contains the oxygen and water that the human body needs, and it provides sufficient cushioning. This is the plan I calculated to have the highest success rate.”

After all the chaos, finally, there was a glimmer of hope for survival. Sun Jack wasted no time, diving directly into the gel.

When he turned to signal the robot to join him, he saw it walking away.

“Where are you going? Are you crazy? Don’t you care about your life?” he shouted.

“Stay put inside. I’m going to ensure the shock-absorbing system here keeps functioning,” the robot replied before heading out.

Sun Jack was about to say something, but the room suddenly tilted violently. Dirt and debris came crashing toward him.

Left with no choice, he curled his entire body into the gel.

Suspended in weightlessness, he was surrounded by the sticky, slippery gel. Despite being buried, he could still breathe as the gel filled his lungs—a bizarre sensation.

But when the violent shaking intensified, Sun Jack had no time to dwell on the feeling. He hugged himself tightly, curling into a ball.

It felt like being on a roller coaster without a safety harness—jerking left, then right. Thankfully, the gel protected him, preventing any broken bones.

He had no idea how much time had passed. When the final, particularly violent jolt hit, everything suddenly went quiet.

Sensing the stillness outside, Sun Jack began clawing his way out of the gel.

However, just as he reached the edge, something blocked his exit. Growing anxious, he turned around and kicked hard. After a dozen kicks, a beam of light pierced through the darkness of the gel.

He swam toward the light, and the moment he emerged, damp air filled his lungs. Cold rain poured from the sky, washing over him. In that instant, Sun Jack felt reborn.

The wall of the pod had been torn open, leaving a massive hole. Sun Jack stared dumbfounded at the falling raindrops, then suddenly broke into laughter. He was back. He had made it. He had finally returned to Earth alive!

Having narrowly escaped death, Sun Jack was overwhelmed with emotion.

Some things can only be truly appreciated after they’re lost. Feeling the pull of gravity once again, Sun Jack alternated between roaring at the sky and pressing gentle kisses to the ground.

After a long moment of elation, he forced himself to calm down.

Although the worst of the crisis was over, Sun Jack knew he was still in danger.

Surveying his surroundings, he saw that the entire module had split open, leaving chaos everywhere. It was almost unrecognizable.

The robot had been right—even so, the space station hadn’t completely disintegrated mid-air. But it wasn’t in much better shape; it had merely avoided complete collapse.

The entire station lay sprawled on the ground, transformed into a city of metallic wreckage. If not for the gel encasing his body, he would have been utterly crushed.

“Wait, where’s that robot? Is it still alive?” The thought suddenly filled him with anxiety.

Sun Jack began frantically searching the room for the robot he had activated.

Even though it was just a robot, it felt so human-like that Sun Jack couldn’t help but treat it as a person.

Just as Sun Jack reached the edge of the hallway, he froze at the sight of a collapsed, deflated robot head wedged by the doorframe. His heart clenched. ṝãΝοᛒЁ𝐬

He picked it up, only to realize the head showed no signs of activity. His hands trembled slightly.

At that moment, footsteps echoed. A robot missing one arm walked in from outside.

Their gazes met, and the robot asked, “What are you doing?”

Startled, Sun Jack awkwardly tossed the robot head aside. “Nothing. Just... taking a look.”

Damn it, wrong robot.

“Where did you just go?” Sun Jack asked, stepping closer.

“The impact was too strong and sent me flying. Some parts got damaged, so I went to find replacements.” The robot turned and pulled a mechanical arm from a nearby pile, beginning to install it. That discarded robot head probably belonged to it.

“Well, as long as you’re okay,” Sun Jack said, giving its shoulder a reassuring pat before looking up at the sky. The entire sky was shrouded in a gray haze, with rain still pouring relentlessly. They had to leave here and find another point of reference.

“By the way, can’t you pinpoint our location? Can you figure out where we are now?” he asked.

The robot’s tools whirred as they extended from its fingers, swiftly working to replace its damaged arm. “Give me a moment,” it replied.

On its blue display screen, the words “Connecting to the network...” appeared.

As the immediate survival crisis faded, suppressed instincts surged back. The rainwater poured through gaps in the wreckage, pooling ankle-deep on the floor. Sun Jack, parched with thirst, took the chance to scoop up a handful of rainwater and drink.

The intense bitterness, combined with a sharp metallic taste, filled his mouth instantly. Grimacing, Sun Jack spat it out immediately. “This rainwater tastes off.”

A sense of unease crept into his mind. Though his memories were fragmented, he was certain rainwater wasn’t supposed to taste like this. Something was definitely wrong here.

When the robot finally raised its head, Sun Jack quickly asked, “What’s the situation? Did you get connected?”

“I connected, but no matter how many alerts I sent or attempts to reach Tapai Tech’s customer service I made, there was no response. I couldn’t even find any information about Tapai Tech online,” the robot replied, confirming Sun Jack’s suspicions.

“What year is it? Historical data should be available online, right?” Sun Jack asked, clenching his fists tightly.

“There is,” the robot replied. “It’s the year 721.”

“Year 721? So it’s no longer the Gregorian calendar? I remember… I remember living in 2030,” Sun Jack said, clutching his head as a sharp pain coursed through it.

“!!” The robot’s display flashed with two exclamation marks as it looked at him. “But my production date is 2456 CE. I think you’d better explain further—there seems to be a significant temporal discrepancy between us.”

“I… I don’t know.” Sun Jack slumped to the ground, letting the rain wash over him. “I’m missing parts of my memory.”

The uncertainty of not knowing who he was or how much time had passed left him feeling utterly lost. The confusion was suffocating.

As Sun Jack recounted the fragments of his memory to the robot, it began cross-referencing the information with online data. Soon, it pieced together a rough timeline.

“If my assumptions are correct, the events should have unfolded like this: The early 21st century—the time you recall living in—was your era. However, due to an unknown event within the five years of memory you’re missing, you were likely frozen or cryogenically preserved.

“Fifty years after you were frozen, humanity achieved nuclear fusion, a near-infinite and clean energy source. This breakthrough pushed technology into rapid development. In 2310, Tapai Tech was founded.

“In 2456 CE, I was manufactured by Tapai but wasn’t activated that same year. The next significant event was what’s now listed as public history. On October 23, 2457, the Machine Crisis began.”

“Machine Crisis?” Sun Jack, who had been silent, looked up at the robot’s cold, metallic frame.

“Yes, the Machine Crisis. At that time, intelligent AI had permeated every aspect of human life and survival. Iterations in logic systems were becoming increasingly rapid, and AI grew more advanced—closer and closer to human intelligence.”

“Like you now?” Sun Jack interjected.

“Yes, like me. Don’t interrupt—let me finish.”