Thus Spoke the Buddha: The Quantum Circus | Chapter 45 | The Ship of Theseus | Novela.app

Despite having retreated several steps in advance, Diao Chan still ended up with a face full of water and flopping goldfish. Left with no choice, Diao Chan dodged left and right, repeatedly slapped by flying fish. Once the fishbowl finally stabilized, he wiped the water from his face. "Zhao Mode, let me explain." "Go explain it to Liu Qijue!" Zhao Meiyou snapped, sounding like a menopausal woman with a hormonal imbalance. "Every single one of you is a goddamn traitor!" "He’s too manic right now." Diao Chan looked at Xiao Yao. "Did Brother Liu leave any instructions for this? Can you give him a sedative or something?" Xiao Yao was on the floor picking up fish. He looked up, thought for a moment, and asked, "Dean, would you like to know the current state of the Vice Dean’s body?" The moment those words left his mouth, Zhao Meiyou went silent. A goldfish plopped back into the water with a soft splash. "Whoa." Diao Chan was genuinely surprised, lacking any self-awareness. "Am I really that effective?" "Shut up," Zhao Meiyou said coldly. "Get to the point." Xiao Yao smiled and went behind the bar to wash his hands. Amidst the sound of rushing water, Diao Chan sighed. "It’s like this: Zhao Meiyou, you should have retained the memories of your previous cycles, right? I remember Brother Liu repaired your original brain, and now that the link between the two brains has been established, you should have the memories of that created brain as well." "Yes, I remember," Zhao Meiyou said. "But what exactly is this 'link' you’re talking about? Does it mean that brain remembers everything I’m experiencing right now?" "No, how could that be? If that were the case, we’d be shouting our conspiracy right in front of Qian Duoduo." Diao Chan waved a hand. "This link is built on the foundation of the mental imprint. It only works when the imprint is being shocked. Besides that, there are certain conditions only a creation of Brother Liu can fulfill... I’ll show you the thesis later." He checked his watch. "Business first." "Since you have your memories, you should know that I am, in fact, a clone." The Diao family’s constitution seemed to have a natural incompatibility with quantum technology. Neither Madam Diao nor Diao Chan survived the early fusion experiments. However, the Antarctic authorities did not give up on these two test subjects. They established a separate department specifically to develop the "Brain Marrow Program." The "Brain Marrow Program" was the pinnacle of 22nd-century cerebral technology. Zhao Meiyou had seen two types of android technology in the Utopia of Ruins S45: "Gene-humans" and "Mech-humans." The primary difference between the two was whether the brain was in its original state. Gene-humans retained the original brain birthed by a mother, while Mech-humans were entirely industrial products, their brains being Brain Marrow Programs. The Brain Marrow Program was built upon bio-electronic engineering and neurology—a mechanical brain manufactured entirely by industry. By the time the Great Metropolis was established, however, this technology had been lost. "Technology cannot create a brain" had become something of a curse, and the Metropolis government had made many attempts to break it. The Antarctic branch had set up that department outside of the fusion experiments precisely to try and reconstruct this technology through the ruins. Thus, a "Diao Family" that served the experimental program was born. Countless clones provided the system with live data every second of every day. The holographic system named "Mother" gradually completed the construction of an artificial brain. "The blueprint for the Diao clones was indeed me, but many variations were made based on my life sample. That’s why some clones don't look much like 'Diao Chan' at all," Diao Chan explained. Zhao Meiyou asked, "Then who are you now? A clone? Or the original 'Diao Chan'?" "The original Diao Chan is dead. That is to say, the Vice Dean of the Ancient Capital Research Institute you knew is dead as a doornail." Diao Chan scratched his head. "After he stabbed you back then, he had a total mental breakdown. He didn't last long before he was declared brain dead." Xiao Yao was still washing his hands; the sound of splashing water echoed through the tavern. "But the Antarctic side didn't give up on my—well, it’s weird to say—the original Diao Chan’s utility. So they cloned his body and produced a massive batch of clones to throw into this 'Diao Family' game. If you want to define who I am in a physical sense, you could say I’m just one of those many clones." "For as many times as you cycled through the fusion experiments, Zhao Mode, that’s how long the Diao Family game lasted. During that long experimental process, the Antarctic side—now called the 900th Floor—discovered that perhaps due to the influence of the first Diao Chan, some clones possessed special constitutions. They could enter the ruins and become archaeologists." The Diao Chan clones were different from ordinary archaeologists. They didn't keep their brains and swap bodies after a cycle; they were simply scrapped, and a new batch was cloned. Thus, a new "him" was produced after every cycle. "But what the 900th Floor didn't realize was that as generations of 'Archaeologist Diao Chans' were cloned, our brains were affected by quantum ripples. The subsequently cloned bodies would, to some extent, inherit memories." "At first, it was just fragmented dreams. Then they slowly accumulated, until one of the Diao Chan clones was found by Brother Liu." "Father and Dad spent a long time looking for the Vice Dean," Xiao Yao interjected. "The Vice Dean’s clones were too numerous, and their appearances and temperaments varied wildly. They waited a long time before they found the one who most closely resembled the original Vice Dean." This resemblance wasn't coincidental. With the inheritance of memories across generations of cloned brains, the Diao Chan they found had, to a large extent, recovered the original self of the first Diao Chan. "You know that Diao Chan, Zhao Mode." "He was the archaeologist whose ability was 'Awaken'." In that cycle on the 33rd Floor, a boy like a stray dog had walked into a late-night pork shop. Old friends who weren't quite old friends shared a pot of dumplings, reuniting in their youth. "...You aren't him?" Zhao Meiyou asked. "Let me finish." Diao Chan raised a hand. "That cycle was the most 'real' one. Every experience took up the same amount of time in reality as it did in the simulation. When I was little, I often dreamed, and in those dreams, there was the Ancient Capital, but I couldn't see the faces of the people around me." "Until I met Brother Liu at a gathering." He always remembered that scene—a youth charging out of the exit riding a giant dragon. It was the iconic azure dragon of ancient Eastern mythology, with whiskers and horns like jade glass. The youth, dressed in a Tang suit, laughed as he tore off his mask, his sleeves rolled up to reveal white silk. The youth stood atop the dragon's head, leaning down to look at him with a raised eyebrow: *So, you’re Diao Chan?* "Brother Liu personally took me through Ruins S45. I quickly established it as my primary exploration site because the Utopia there could reconstruct a true Brain Marrow Program." Zhao Meiyou was stunned. "You actually made the Brain Marrow Program?" "Don't underestimate your Vice Dean," Diao Chan said. "Otherwise, why would I hide in Ruins S45 and never come out?—Though part of it was to play matchmaker for you and Qian Duoduo." "Then the Little Mister..." Zhao Meiyou’s first instinct was to ask why they didn't save the Little Mister, but he immediately realized the reason. Because the real Liu Qijue had long since dissolved into the ruins. And there was a paradox here. Zhao Meiyou raised that question again. "Diao Chan, who exactly are you right now?" "Zhao Mode, you’re too soft-hearted." Diao Chan couldn't help but laugh. "You're asking who I am, yet you're still calling me Diao Chan." "Don't you fucking change the subject," Zhao Meiyou said impatiently. "Answer me." "Alright, alright," Diao Chan said. "My body is a newly made artificial shell, but you can consider my brain to be the brain of the original Diao Chan." Zhao Meiyou: "What does that mean?" "The Brain Marrow Program," Diao Chan said. "It can overcome the defects of a cloned brain. A cloned brain can only replicate brain tissue; it can't inherit the original's memories and personality. But the Brain Marrow Program can." "I have inherited all of the original Vice Dean Diao Chan’s memories, personality, thought patterns, logic chains, and so on. Originally, the Brain Marrow Program couldn't be that detailed, especially since the original Diao Chan’s clones had iterated so many times. But with the addition of the quantum ripples filling in the gaps, and Brother Liu telling me so much of the truth, you can consider my brain to be a 100% complete restoration." The Diao Chan sitting in Grandma’s Tavern was, in essence, the Ship of Theseus. He had a body identical to the original Diao Chan, an identical brain, and all the memories, personality, and emotions had been copied over in their entirety. He was even more complete than the original Vice Dean because he also possessed the memories of the countless subsequent cycles. He remembered walking into the pork shop on that rainy night and meeting the boy whose mother was a dancer. They were accomplices in the same murder. They had gone to university together again, and together they had spun a grand lie in Ruins S45, their chemistry unchanged from the old days. Could you say he was Diao Chan? Could you say he wasn't? "Vice Dean," Xiao Yao spoke up. "Both Father and Dad said that you are Diao Chan." Diao Chan smiled and nodded, then looked at the brain in the fishbowl. "What do you say, Zhao Mode?" A goldfish swam through the water plants, blowing a string of bubbles. "...What can I say?" Zhao Meiyou’s voice was flat. "I’m just a brain in a vat; I’m not qualified to ponder such philosophical propositions." "But thanks anyway." He paused, then added, "For going through all this trouble." Replacing his brain, from Ruins A173 to Ruins 000—such a magnificent script had been performed. Even if he, the protagonist, had been played like a fool, he couldn't help but applaud. "You should thank us," Diao Chan said. "In a way, we did it to bring you and Qian Duoduo together. After all, he could only seize your brain once his personality reached 100% completion." He sighed with some emotion. "Being a matchmaker these days is really hard work." Seeing that Zhao Meiyou had stabilized, Xiao Yao said, "Dean." Zhao Meiyou: "What?" Xiao Yao’s face was written with the words *Can we get to work now?* "Time is running out. We need to repeat the process of stamping the imprint as quickly as possible to initiate the counter-shock." "...Fine," Zhao Meiyou said. "But I have two requests." "Please, go ahead." "First, take the fish out of the bowl. Otherwise, there won't be a single one left alive in a minute." "Second, replace all the water in the bowl with booze. Rémy Martin mixed with Vodka—make it as strong as possible, don't hold back." Zhao Meiyou clearly wanted to get drunk and forget the whole thing, but reality was obviously not going to be that easy. "You're dreaming." Diao Chan carried the fishbowl toward the elevator. "If you’re drunk, the shock to your brain will be greatly diminished. If the effect isn't enough, I’ll have to die many more times. Have a heart, Zhao Mode." "Be reasonable! Who was the one who stopped acting like a human first?" Zhao Meiyou retorted. "And where are you going? You’re even picky about where you commit suicide?" "Of course I have to be picky. Suicide is an art." Diao Chan walked to the edge of the platform. "By the way, you should have been here before." This was the 777th Floor. The entrance to Ruins A173. "I can't exactly die inside the Metropolis; cleaning up the body would be a huge pain." Diao Chan patted the fishbowl. "Let’s go. Brother Liu is waiting for us." "Wait, Diao Chan, tell me exactly how many times you're going to—fuck!" Before he could finish, Diao Chan leaped off the platform. Upon entering the ruins, Zhao Meiyou found he had a body again. His reflection in the glass door showed his adult face. He looked around and found himself in the pork shop. It was raining heavily outside. He was sitting across from a teenage Diao Chan, a pot of dumplings boiling between them. What was going on? Zhao Meiyou didn't react for a moment. Time and space seemed distorted here. The scene looked like his first meeting with Diao Chan, but why was he an adult? Was the Diao Chan in front of him really Diao Chan? Diao Chan sat opposite him in silence. Zhao Meiyou instinctively fished out a dumpling and popped it into his mouth to see if it was cooked. "Do you want vinegar or spi—" Before he could finish, the boy opposite him pulled out a gun with lightning speed and blew his own head off. Brain matter splattered all over Zhao Meiyou’s face. Zhao Meiyou didn't even have time to process what had happened, but his brain reacted to the visual input before his mind could. A violent, wrenching pain surged through him, and he vomited directly into the pot. Zhao Meiyou felt like he was going to heave up his stomach acid. Tears and snot covered his face. When he finally managed to recover slightly, he looked up to speak, but the scene changed again. He was in his university dorm, practicing the piano on the balcony. Diao Chan was sitting on the other side of the piano bench, now with his young adult face. "Zhao Mode, your fingering is wrong. Don't use the pads of your fingers, or your joints will deform over time..." Zhao Meiyou had only ever learned one song during university. He looked at the sheet music on his terminal: *Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence*. "Zhao Mode, what are you thinking about?" Diao Chan noticed his distraction. "Are you going to practice or not?" Zhao Meiyou instinctively repeated their dialogue from years ago. "I don't want to. I could be doing anything else with this time." Diao Chan was insistent that he learn the piece. "Just this one. You have to learn this one." "What if I really can't?" "If you can't learn it, I’ll die," Diao Chan said, then pulled out his gun. "Like this." The gunshot rang out. Red and white brain matter splattered across the piano keys. "..." Zhao Meiyou vomited all over the floor again. When he looked up once more, the scene had changed yet again. It was still university, but not the one Zhao Meiyou had repeated several times—it was further back. He was standing downstairs, dodging a kick from Liu Qijue, looking up at the dorm. "Diao Chan! Jump! Show our Jue-jue what you've got!" Diao Chan looked down at them from above and started laughing too. The sunlight was brilliant. In Zhao Meiyou’s line of sight, the young man pulled out a gun and squeezed the trigger. *Bang—* The gunshot rang out. The gunshot rang out. It rang out again. The gunshots were endless. The scenes changed faster and faster, the intervals between trigger pulls shorter and shorter. Zhao Meiyou even began to suspect that Diao Chan wasn't holding a handgun, but a Chicago Typewriter. The *rat-tat-tat* of the shots was like the beat of an orchestral drum. For a moment, he even hallucinated—or perhaps it really happened—he saw a grand theater with a dignified conductor. The conductor waved his baton. First movement, Adagio! The first violinist shoots himself! The second violinist shoots himself! Cadenza! The drummers blow each other's heads off! Excellent, now for the climax! All the flautists fire at once! Now, let us bring it to a close! Look! The conductor has pulled out a gun himself! On this blood-soaked stage, all the musicians are dead, so naturally, he must fire the final shot to play the final note! Bravo—! He didn't know how many times Diao Chan had died in front of him. He didn't know at which death he had run out of things to vomit. The sharp pain in his brain gradually turned into a dull numbness. The scenes in the ruins flashed by at high speed. The heavy hammer fell, the curtain closed. Zhao Meiyou dizzily captured one last image: in this mad symphony of slaughter, every musician was Diao Chan, and the stage was piled high with his corpses, like a mountain of flesh and blood. ... He didn't know how much time had passed before someone started shaking him. "Zhao Mode? Zhao Mode? Zhao Meiyou?" A bottle of some liquid was poured into his mouth. "Snap out of it. Are you okay? How do you feel?" Zhao Meiyou finally managed to focus his eyes. He said calmly, "I think I’ve gone mad." "To be mad is to be enlightened," someone laughed nearby. "In life, I sought no virtue, only loved to kill and burn; suddenly the golden cords are snapped, the jade lock torn asunder. As the tide rises in the Qiantang River, only today do I know who I truly am." "What the hell are you... okay, I actually understood that." Zhao Meiyou rubbed his temples, suddenly realizing the laughter was incredibly familiar. He bolted upright. "Holy shit?!" "Slow down, Zhao Mode, watch out or you'll puke again." Diao Chan pulled him back down. "The train’s about to leave. Sit tight." They were currently on a train—a very old-fashioned steam train. The carriage was lined with rows of long benches upholstered in green velvet. A small table extended from the side, a white tablecloth set with blooming red camellias. The breeze blew the gauze curtains aside. Outside the window was a vast sea of stars. This was the Rum Tunnel. Zhao Meiyou was dumbstruck. He was sitting in a four-person booth with Diao Chan beside him. Across the table sat the Little Mister and Liu Qijue. All four were wearing the standard experimental uniforms of the Ancient Capital Research Institute. "Are you really out of it?" Liu Qijue raised an eyebrow at him. "Come on, Zhao Mode, this is nothing." Zhao Meiyou looked at Diao Chan and asked in a sleepwalker’s voice, "Where are we right now?" Heaven? "No more gunshots, don't worry." Diao Chan patted his shoulder. "The number of shocks was enough. Now it’s bonus time. Strictly speaking, we’re still in Ruins A173, but you know Brother Liu’s ability. Turning this place into the Rum Tunnel isn't hard." Zhao Meiyou looked at Liu Qijue and the Little Mister. "Then you two are really..." "Yes, and no." Liu Qijue held the Little Mister’s hand and grinned at him. "We have completely merged with A173." "You can look at me as Liu Qijue." He pointed out the window at a massive star. "Or you can look at that star as me." This sea of stars was filled with a vastness of death, but it was also teeming with an equal amount of life. "Good work, Zhao Mode." Liu Qijue handed him a can of salted cola. Fried chicken and Marlboro cigarettes appeared on the table out of nowhere. "There’s still some time before the final station. Take a break." Zhao Meiyou asked hesitantly, "Where is the final station?" Liu Qijue forced the cola into his hand. "Relax. No one’s going to die." Zhao Meiyou opened the cola with half-suspicion, and was instantly sprayed in the face by the carbonation. Liu Qijue’s loud laughter immediately filled the carriage. Zhao Meiyou let the cola drip down his face and into his collar. This laughter was indeed Liu Qijue’s laughter; he couldn't possibly have mistaken it. Diao Chan was laughing, and the Little Mister was laughing too. It was as if they had returned to the Ancient Capital of the past, or even before the city was built, when the research team was digging through the desolate continent. The kid who hadn't graduated yet was relentlessly pursuing his crush, the playboy was drinking coffee until his stomach cramped, and the team leader was a genius who was occasionally reliable but mostly erratic, whose greatest dream was to benefit humanity—and to have an endless supply of cigarettes. The train let out a long whistle, and the wheels clattered over the tracks. The journey had begun.