《Invading another world》 Lost Fortune
Veteran Gamers Advice
¡¾Advice from the Veterans¡¿
¡¾Please keep the following points in mind to increase your chances of surviving your first ''crossing''.¡¿
¡¾First, do not trust ***.¡¿
¡¾Second, the number of times you can create a character is crucial. Make every effort to collect them.¡¿
¡¾Third, do not attempt to trust any native of the Smith World, especially do not reveal your identity as an occupier to anyone.¡¿
¡¾Fourth, do not try to befriend any players in the Smith World. There are traitors among the crowd, and compatriots from other worlds are not true compatriots.¡¿
¡¾Fifth.¡¿
¡¾You and I are deeply trapped in the hell of cause and effect. Please temporarily abandon the goodness that has settled in compulsory education.¡¿
¡¾Lie as much and as cautiously as possible.¡¿
¡¾That world does not need good moral character.¡¿
......
Harper sat cross-legged in an empty white space, a cracked phone in his hand displayed an app.
The app was called "Smith Game", its icon was a blue-skinned, blond man making a ghost face.
Upon entering the app, Harper automatically received the ID number 18146.
¡¾You are the 18146th guest of Smith¡¿
The strange voice''s words still lingered in his mind.
18146......
What kind of number was that?
But the top left corner of the app displayed the current "online number" as 9127.
Harper instinctively felt something was wrong.
He was now in a pure white space, unable to do anything.
The strange voice that had brought him here had disappeared without leaving any guidance.
Out of helplessness, Harper could only open the app to browse.
The Smith Game app resembled a game player community, with four main sections: ¡¾Home¡¿, ¡¾Forum¡¿, ¡¾Product Page¡¿, and ¡¾Me¡¿.
Although the design was simple, almost purely text-based, as if it was casually put together, it was well-featured.
Harper quickly figured out how to operate the app.
¡¾Home¡¿ was more like a "system-dedicated announcement platform" where he could see some important notifications.
For instance, when the ¡¾World Alternation¡¿ would start, or who became the ¡¾Slayer¡¿ after the end of the last ¡¾Occupation Period¡¿.
In short, many of the words were incomprehensible to Harper, but he could roughly guess their meanings.
The ¡¾Forum¡¿ was much more straightforward. It was a speaking channel exclusively for occupiers.
In the pinned post on the forum, Harper saw the text at the beginning of this chapter.
The poster was called "Hannibal", with an ID number of 621. His profile picture frame was green - Harper researched a bit and found that a green profile picture frame indicated that the person was currently online, or in other words, still alive.
Judging by the number of digits in the ID number, this person had been online for quite a long time and was an old player. Of course, Harper would selectively believe what he said.
Harper''s gaze wandered through this text, with a few points needing special attention.
Firstly, what was the censored word in the first point?
For a three-letter word, Harper didn''t think it was hard to guess - Smith.
This sentence was of high importance, placed first in order.
If it was not to trust Smith, then Harper''s current situation was definitely not safe, and it was very likely that he had escaped from the dragon''s den only to enter the tiger''s den.
Secondly, what was the ¡¾number of times you can create a character¡¿, and how to collect it?
This point was easy to solve.
Also in the pinned post, there was a newbie guide post that explained a large number of specialized terms that appeared in the ¡¾Smith Game¡¿.
- It did start to feel a bit like a game now.
Harper found the explanation in the post.
¡¾Number of times you can create a character¡¿was, in layman''s terms, the character''s life in the game.
Character dies - deduct 1 point from the ¡¾number of times you can create a character¡¿- character starts the occupier''s life again - game continues.
Character dies - no ¡¾number of times you can create a character¡¿- unable to restart - player dies.
Harper''s premonition was correct, his current situation was not safe at all.
This was a gamble with life as the stake.
No wonder "Hannibal" said that one needed to make every effort to collect the number of times you can create a character.
The third and fourth points in the post were easy to understand, but the fifth point...
What was the hell of cause and effect?
Harper knew about the law of cause and effect, that everything that happens has a necessary cause.
Did this mean that his arrival in this pure white space, his participation in the so-called ¡¾Smith Game¡¿, was not accidental, but inevitable?
He pondered.
He told himself silently in his heart.
So his mind went back in time, and he caught the turning point of his life.
The young man he met on the day of the college entrance examination was definitely a problem.
No, perhaps his entire lucky life was a problem.
Harper rubbed his temples, opened his eyes, and continued to read.
There were not many products for sale on the ¡¾Product Page¡¿, the empty page only had two purchasable products.
Number of times you can create a character, Smith Coins*14999.
Skill loot box, Smith Coins*500.
Skills must be an important attribute, so by inference, nearly 15,000 Smith Coins must be a fortune.
After taking a look, Harper finally clicked on ¡¾Me¡¿.
¡¾Me¡¿ was a personal attribute page.
As a "new player", Harper''s personal attribute page was quite clean.
......
ID: 18146
Forum Nickname: None
Name: Harper
Inherent Talent: Luck (Lost), Clear Mind
Skills: None
Number of times you can create a character: 1
......
Bang!
Harper''s pupils vibrated, and his heart pounded.
Inherent talent, luck... lost?!
Shock left him breathless.
At this moment, the weird voice finally resurfaced.
A bunch of... data? appeared in the pure white space, fluctuating as if composed of various numbers and characters, producing character waves when it spoke.
"It seems you have noticed what''s happening to you," it said.
Harper took a small step back: "Who are you?"
"I am Smith, Mr. Harper."
Harper was silent for a few seconds, forcibly suppressing the shock in his heart, although everything happening now completely exceeded his cognitive capacity.
"Are you talking about me losing my luck?"
"You are very calm, Mr. Harper."
"Should I be crazy? If it helps, I can defecate in the corner."
"Your calmness surpasses all people of your age group, Smith is very pleased."
It ignored Harper''s vulgarity: "So I can give you more rights."
"Such as?"
"You have the chance to know Smith''s secret, of course, it''s not free."
"Your secret?"
"Smith knows everything, 1000 coins for a piece of information."
Harper''s phone vibrated, and upon lowering his head, he saw that a new purchase option had been added to the "Product Page".
Smith''s Secret, Smith Coins*1000.
Harper suddenly raised his head, the fire flickering in the depths of his dark pupils.
"So, I can know who took my luck?"
"After you pay the price of 1000 coins."
The flame of revenge ignited, scorching his heart.
The pain of losing his home and family made him sleepless night after night.
Harper spent the nights reflecting on his past life, etching the face of the hitchhiking young man deep into his heart.
Now, he finally had a chance for revenge.
"But before that, Smith suggests you take a look at your number of times you can create a character."
"You only have 1."
"This means that after you create a character for the first time and enter the Smith World, if you don''t collect new times to create a character, after death..."
Smith''s strange voice seemed to whisper in Harper''s ear, low but deafening.
"...you will completely disappear from this world."
--- The first occupation of life
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Harper lifted his drooping eyelids, looking at the two clocks hanging on the pristine white wall.
The one on the left displayed the current time: two fifty-seven in the afternoon.
The one on the right, however, was frozen at three o''clock exactly.
The young man silently stared at the clocks. The three-minute transition seemed unbearably slow, the twitching of the second hand almost in sync with his heartbeat.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
As the hand of the left clock finally reached three o''clock, a box popped up before Harper''s eyes.
New Character, Load Game, Achievements...
It was no different from a real game login screen.
At this moment, both the Load Game and Achievements icons were greyed out, with only New Character flashing with selectable light.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
The crisp ticking of the clock signified the relentless passage of time.
The man who called himself Smith had told him that the standby screen would only last for one minute. If no choice was made within that minute, he would be randomly thrown into the game.
Harper''s pupils shifted, and no matter how much he pondered, it seemed there was only one path before him.
[New Character]
[1 Character Creation Chance Deducted. Please select your background.]
Three background options floated before his eyes: Wealthy, Middle-class, and Poor.
It seemed like an easy choice, so naturally, Harper felt there must be a trap.
Being Wealthy... seemed to suggest wide attention.
From Hannibal''s posts, being widely noticed in Smith''s world didn''t seem to be good news.
Being Poor, on the other hand, reduced
Harper felt dazed, as if countless vibrant lights were sweeping past his eyelids.
Memories and settings flooded his brain, giving him a vague understanding of his current situation amidst the haziness.
"Bang!"
The solid impact echoed through the narrow street.
Following the gasps of pedestrians and the screeching of brakes, Jerome¡ª or rather, Harper¡ª stumbled and fell.
Crimson blood filled his vision, and intense pain and numbness engulfed his body. But a strange sensation was approaching.
It was like a patient being rescued after surgery, as the antagonist drug entered the bloodstream through the syringe, he began to gradually control this body.
Occupation.
He murmured in his heart.
He was occupying this body.
"Oh my God!"
There were women screaming around him.
"It''s the kid from the repair shop!"
"Why are they driving so fast on the street!"
"Idiot! Corporate lackey! Don''t they consider civilians as people?"
"Quick! Check on the kid!"
"Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Scatter¡ªeveryone get out of the way!"
Then came the bustling pushing and shoving: "We need to call the police!"
"Bastard! Can''t you see he''s bleeding?! We need to call the medics first!"
"Wait! Iggy! Let him go first! This guy is right, we need to confirm first......"
"......you mean?"
"Avoid trouble¡ªyou saw how heavy the hit was."
"But... aren''t those strange things only happening in the big cities?"
"Who knows, it''s always good to be careful."
As the conversation came to this point, a deep male voice leaned in, his palm lightly patting Harper''s face: "Kid? Kid!"
Harper struggled to flutter his eyelids.
"Are you okay?" the man asked.
Harper tried hard to open his eyes, pushing apart his blood-soaked eyelids.
He was lying on the ground, not far from a weirdly shaped but high-tech hovercar. At this moment, the hovercar was hovering low, surrounded by people.
The front of the car was splattered with some blood, and given the current situation, these bloodstains should have been left from hitting him.
A middle-aged man was squatting in front of him, with black hair and a strange blue light flickering in front of one eye.
The man lightly patted Harper''s cheek, prompting him to wake up quickly.
Harper did indeed wake up.
But he had to pretend a bit.
From those bits and pieces, he could quickly judge the current situation: the so-called strange things happening in the big cities made people doubtful of those who had suffered severe hits but had not died immediately.
He might have encountered a survival crisis from the start.
The man''s patting had no effect, he looked suspiciously over Harper''s body, then turned his head.
"Iggy, help me out, contact the medics."
"Alright, alright."
"This is the kid from the street, no matter what¡ª¡ª"
His words were interrupted by an authoritative¡ªor rather, bossy voice from not far away.
"I''ve already notified the police! They''ll be here soon¡ªfrom the South Horse District, only ten minutes!"
"You!"
"He didn''t say a word!"
"Damn! The kid just had an accident! How do you expect him to speak?!"
"You guys are not planning to run away! There''s obviously a problem, why not investigate it! Are you federal spies?!"
"......!"
No one spoke.
The term "federal spy" seemed to be a silencing spell, quieting the entire area.
Harper felt somewhat anxious inside.
In a short while, someone muttered, "You''re obviously trying to avoid compensation."
But this voice was drowned in the approaching police siren, barely audible.
Amidst the clatter of equipment, several police officers got out of the car, hastily holding Harper''s hands and feet.
"Be gentle! He''s still a kid!"
"He''s just had an accident!"
Harper didn''t attempt to resist, an icy needle pricked his waist skin.
As the real sedative was injected into his body, the vague voices echoed in his ears.
"According to the newly added ''New Empire Security Law'' Volume 12, Chapter 3, Article 6, five months ago, the police have the right to temporarily monitor ''Arrival'' suspects."
"Second-class citizen Jerome, you will be interrogated by the Special Security Bureau of the Imperial Army......"
Harper felt drowsy again.
The "interrogation" in the side mission was about to begin.
Just that......
"Special Security Bureau of the Imperial Army"¡ªit didn''t sound like an easy entity to fool.
He slowly inhaled the air, and before falling asleep, he heard a voice.
"Call the kid''s father over, that mechanic, he probably doesn''t know what''s happened."
--- Crisis and turning point
Crisis.
Harper was facing an extremely dire crisis.
The world had become aware of the existence of the "Descendants," and certain laws had been negotiated to restrain them.
What were the Descendants?
In the forum''s strategy guide, this term was explained in great detail, involving the background of the entire "game."
The game Smith played involved selecting players from the Earth where Harper lived (commonly referred to by players as the first world) to occupy the bodies of the indigenous people of Smith''s world (referred to by players as the second world) in the guise of conquerors.
During this process, players would gain a new life in another world.
While the indigenous people of Smith''s world experienced a moment of death.
People around them, perhaps sons, daughters, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters...
At some moment after an accident, although they survived, their souls had become those of completely unfamiliar people from another world¡ª
For the indigenous people, how terrifying a thing it was!
How was this any different from dying?!
So, from the perspective of the indigenous people of Smith''s world, the players who came from another world were called "Descendants."
And from the players'' perspective, they were directed by Smith to occupy the bodies of the indigenous people of this world, so the players referred to themselves as "Conquerors."
In any case, the world was in deep crisis.
And Harper was about to face the most severe scrutiny.
After an unknown amount of time passed, he gradually began to feel.
As if unable to perceive the existence of his limbs, only his brain was slowly waking up.
Around him, he could gradually hear voices.
Think... think!
Even though his brain was moving slowly, he had to think!
Otherwise, in his current state of confusion, he would definitely not withstand the so-called interrogation!
Was there any information he had overlooked?
Mechanic... child of the repair shop...
Side quest... surviving the interrogation...
Second-tier citizen of the empire... Jerome...
17 years old... Afflicted¡ªAsperger''s syndrome!
A spark flashed in his mind!
Sure enough, there was always a way out!
...
In the interrogation room, two imperial soldiers sat with their heads together, lighting two cigarettes with the butt of one.
"If the child''s father says it''s okay, he''ll take the child back."
The young soldier with fair complexion whispered.
He had a silver lightning bolt embroidered on his shoulder, indicating he was a private second class.
And the soldier next to him had a silver star on his shoulder, indicating he was a corporal.
Though the lowest rank among officers, he was a genuine officer.
The corporal raised an eyebrow, "Take him back? Heh?"
He blew out a puff of smoke, "Is that all he said?"
"He only said that?" The corporal''s tone was impatient.
The private second class lowered his eyebrows and eyes, "He only said that."
Seeing the corporal was somewhat dissatisfied, he quickly added, "The person is a mechanic, running a dilapidated repair shop in the town of Sunset. He looks very introverted."
The corporal gave him a sideways glance.
"Hastily making excuses for someone, what''s the matter? Is he your relative?"
"Haha, how could that be."
The private second class''s complexion changed a bit, a smile plastered on his face, "You also know, I grew up in Sunset..."
"Just because you grew up in Sunset, that''s why they brought you here for nepotism."
The corporal took a deep drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke all in the private second class''s face.
The fair-skinned young man nodded and agreed, but cursed silently in his heart.
Bah!
If it weren''t for knowing that Sunset was full of poor laborers, unable to squeeze out even a drop of oil, would they bring him along? Heh!
The term "Descendants" used to be more common in the administrative circles of the capital. Some wealthy parents would bribe the security bureau soldiers in charge of interrogation to save their loved ones.
But now, the "Descendant Syndrome" had spread to various administrative regions.
Interrogating these people had become a source of income for the security bureau soldiers.
As the saying goes, big officials are big corruptors, small officials are small corruptors.
These poor laborers could scrape some grease out, get a foot massage, or find a cannon to fire¡ªa pretty good job, after all.
The most annoying thing was dealing with parents like these, who couldn''t squeeze out a single fart for half a day.
No money in their pockets, no discernment, couldn''t even speak a nice word.
As for whether the "Descendant Syndrome" would spread to the mining areas and garbage dumps?
Well, there were only a bunch of folks waiting to die, so poor that even the rats were skin and bones.
They would be pulled out of rat holes by those poor ghosts and have their heads chopped off, then roasted over a fire.
¡ªIn such areas, where gangs ruled and plagues abounded, it would be difficult for Descendants to survive.
The empire''s leaders had no intention of dealing with them.
Just like a certain marshal said:
Useful people are the ones that need to be controlled.
Useless ones, just let them fend for themselves!
This thought passed through the corporal''s mind, making him feel a slight adrenaline rush, as if he himself had uttered those words, deciding the fate of the empire.
"When..."
Both were lost in their own thoughts when, from behind a piece of reinforced glass, Jerome lying on the bed let out a painful whimper.
He was waking up.
The corporal took a hard drag on his cigarette, becoming somewhat impatient, and jabbed the table with the butt, leaving a black mark on the metal surface.
"Get to work."
"Uh."
The private second class quickly extinguished his cigarette, leaving another black mark beside the first one.
"Jerome, second-tier citizen, are you in a state where you can be interrogated?"
"Uh... ah..."
Jerome did not answer the question, just let out another painful gasp.
Why wouldn''t he be in pain?
From the site of the incident, he had been thrown ten meters by the hovercar flying low over the street.
If this kid hadn''t been lucky enough, he would have died ages ago.
This was also the source of the suspicion of being a Descendant.
People who suffered fatal injuries but didn''t die were very likely to be infected with the Descendant Syndrome.
The security bureau had only given him basic treatment.
After the interrogation was over, he would either be sent to a hospital matching his citizen level for treatment or be executed on the spot.
The corporal slammed the table, "Jerome, second-tier citizen! Stop pretending! I''ve seen this kind of trick many times! Answer my question immediately!"
In fact, the corporal hadn''t interrogated many suspected Descendants; this was just a set of tactics.
Just like the sales call you received anytime, anywhere, trying to convince you to buy their financial products¡ªintimidation was also a tactic of the military.
The teenager in the interrogation room was indeed frightened.
He dared not make another painful gasp, lowering his voice.
"Yes..."
His voice sounded like a crushed soda can.
"Louder!" The corporal demanded!
The teenager in the interrogation room quieted down for a moment.
"I''m in pain."
He whispered, "I can''t speak loudly."
The teenager stared at the interrogation lamp on his head, unconsciously playing with his fingers, over and over again.
"Perhaps... could you turn off this lamp? It''s too bright."
The corporal lowered his head and saw a very obvious label on Jerome''s file.
[Jerome was diagnosed with Asperger''s syndrome at the age of 7 and did not receive treatment.]
[Patients with Asperger''s syndrome find it difficult to accurately perceive the emotions of communicators and to respond accurately.]
[They may unconsciously engage in repetitive and stereotypical behaviors. Please do not interrupt or prevent them.]
The corporal raised his head, focusing on Jerome''s hands.
Eighty percent of his trust was already there.
It''s just that no one expected.
Hogan would be very familiar with Asperger''s syndrome.
Because Hogan was a patient with Asperger''s syndrome.
--- Pass
Asperger''s Syndrome is a social disorder similar to autism, often seen in infants and young children.
This type of disorder does not usually affect intelligence, only social interaction and communication abilities.
Hogan had such a social disorder.
Harper tried to imitate some of his sister''s actions and expressions.
When their parents were alive, they were busy with company affairs. Most of the time, the sister was taken care of by him and the housekeeper.
He was also very clear about some of Hogan''s small actions.
He just didn''t know if he could deceive the security bureau personnel across from him.
The two people across exchanged a few words, and the young, clean-looking soldier stood up and walked into the interrogation room.
He came to Harper''s side, twisted a switch, and lowered the brightness of the interrogation lamp.
"Jerome, bear with it if it hurts. We''ll take you to the hospital as soon as the questioning is over."
Harper''s heart skipped a beat. Was it someone he knew?
He tried hard to control his facial expressions, not to look at the young soldier, and did not respond to his words.
Communication impairment is also one of the typical manifestations of Asperger''s Syndrome.
The young soldier was not angry either. After doing these, he returned to the surveillance room next door.
"Are you ready to answer the questions?"
The corporal was getting impatient.
Damn, it seems like they won''t get any useful information this time.
The boy seemed to be looking at something with great interest.
Following his gaze, the corporal saw that for some reason, water was seeping from the ceiling of the interrogation room.
Drip by drip, very regular.
The boy was watching very intently.
The private laughed awkwardly at him, "Sir, he¡ª"
He pointed to his head, "Something''s not right here."
This interrogation can''t go on!
Damn it, they ran fifteen kilometers for nothing!
The corporal lit another cigarette, and the private lit it for him.
He took a deep breath, and the smoke swirled, weaving a blue net under the pale light.
"Shh...you say..."
The private hurriedly leaned in.
"Do you say that driving a hover car at low altitude in a crowded city and causing injury¡ªcausing serious injury to a minor, is that the responsibility of the security bureau?"
The private''s eyes widened, "Of course! Who says it''s not? Who dares to say it''s not?!"
"Hey, don''t make us out to be hooligans¡ªwe''re here to solve problems for the citizens."
"Of course!"
"Go check out the background of that idiot who hit the person."
"Sir, there''s no need to check, I watched every blade of grass and tree grow in Sunset Town!"
The private said righteously, "That skinny guy has no background, he''s from Bennett Company¡ª"
"Are you stupid?! People from the company are not considered without a background?!"
The corporal was startled, "Do you think I''m a colonel or a major?!"
"Sir, it''s okay. He''s a temporary worker at Bennett Company, and the hover car isn''t his, he was running errands for his boss, delivering it for maintenance."
"Oh?"
"As a result, this idiot, in order to show off, specifically drove it into his own yard. The next day when he went out, he knocked this kid down. Now his boss probably wants to kill him."
The corporal took a puff of his cigarette, and the corners of his flat mouth gradually curled up, "So that''s what happened..."
"That idiot started with a small business, spent two hundred thousand to buy a temporary worker''s position in the company, and then this happened."
"Two hundred thousand?"
The corporal was getting a bit restless.
Shouldn''t they hurry?
If he gave all two hundred thousand, and if his boss catches this idiot and makes him pay for the car repair, what can they get?
"Cough, cough."
He coughed twice, glancing at the interrogation form in his hand, "But this form..."
"I''ll write it, sir."
The private hurriedly took it, "I''ll write it neatly with my right hand, and then write it for myself with my left!"
"Thank you."
The corporal, with a pretentious air, handed the paper form to him.
"If it weren''t for the upper echelons insisting on using the paper version, it would be so much easier to have AI generate it in a second."
"Don''t worry, I''ll use AI, ensuring it''s undetectable."
The corporal took one last look at the boy in the interrogation room, smiling broadly, "Thankfully, he''s a minor."
Then the smile faded a lot, "Unfortunately, he''s just a second-class citizen."
He grumbled, got up, and walked out.
The private quickly packed up his things, glanced at Jerome, and followed.
It wasn''t until the heavy door of the surveillance room closed that Harper slowly exhaled.
At this point, his clothes were soaked with sweat.
Half because of the pain, half because of the tension.
To be honest, aside from imitating Hogan, he couldn''t do anything else.
If the two people outside insisted on not believing him and asked him more questions, Harper wouldn''t be able to hide it.
But fortunately...
The first crisis seemed to have passed.
As his body relaxed, the physical pain became even more apparent.
He gradually began to gasp for breath, like a drowning person, tightly gripping the crossbar on the side of the chair, and gave it a heavy push.
"Clang!"
...
The corporal and the private walked out of the surveillance room, rushing out.
In the lobby of the Sunset Town Police Department, the private pointed out a direction to the corporal.
"Sir, that''s the father of the child."
A grubby middle-aged man sat on the bench in the lobby.
He was wearing an old, oil-stained work coat, his hair was messy, and his face was covered with scruffy beard.
He looked dull, as if he hadn''t spoken for many years.
He didn''t seem much different from the poor people who frequented the police department for trivial matters.
"Tsk, he looks like a poor worker."
The corporal sneered.
"That one, is the perpetrator of the car accident."
A fat man in a suit stood out of place at the entrance of the police department, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a delicate handkerchief.
Unlike most people here, he had meticulously styled hair, wore almost new brown leather shoes, and occasionally squatted down to wipe the surface of his shoes with his sweat-soaked handkerchief¡ªthen wiped his forehead again.
...He seemed a bit off.
The fat man was anxiously waiting.
He had received a furious call from his boss, ordering him to handle this accident alone.
"When you come back, my car must be spotless! There can''t be even a single dent! Otherwise, you''re fired¡ªwhat two hundred thousand! Are you extorting me?! How dare you?!"
The fat man wiped the sweat from his forehead again.
At this moment, he saw the two security bureau soldiers coming out.
Before he had a chance to approach them, he heard the leading corporal tighten his belt and give a deep order:
"Attention, everyone!"
"Immediately arrest this lunatic who drove at low altitude in a crowded area, causing serious injury to a minor!"
The fat man hadn''t reacted yet.
The private immediately pounced on him, stepping on his shiny leather shoes, and punched him!
The Sunset Town Police Department descended into chaos.
In this absurd and chaotic situation, Jefferson sat emotionlessly and quietly on the bench.
A nurse ran out of the room, tapped Jefferson on the shoulder.
"Uncle Ji! Jerome needs to be transferred to the Second Citizen Hospital immediately!"
Jefferson lifted his head, "Ah. He won''t be shot, will he?"
"No, we''ve received instructions that he can be taken to the hospital immediately¡ªhis condition is not good."
The emotionless middle-aged man nodded, "Well, that''s good."
"¡­Huh?"
"Then you guys take him to the hospital, I''m going home."
"Uncle Ji?"
"Is there anything else?"
"I mean, your son needs to be hospitalized, his condition is very bad."
"I understand, can the hospital cure him?"
"We''re not sure, his condition is very bad right now."
"I see."
Jefferson stood up and put on a soft hat.
"Then I''ll go first."
His indifference left the nurse stunned.
"...That''s strange."
--- Eccentric father-son relationship
¡¾Side Mission: 1. Survive the Interrogation Completed, Points +128.¡¿
¡¾Smith''s Kind Reminder: Points can be exchanged for coins at the end of this occupation period when you return to the Pure White Space. For more coins, please try to complete the tasks assigned by Smith.¡¿
...
Harper lay in the Second Citizen Hospital for a full three days.
Of course, he did not waste these three days.
As soon as he regained consciousness on the second day, he did his best to gather information while maintaining his role.
For example, the young man he is currently occupying is named Jerome. Jerome''s father, Jefferson, is a mechanic who owns a repair shop at B-21 in Sunset Town.
Jerome has been motherless since childhood and relies on his father for life - but since he has been hospitalized for so long and hasn''t seen his father come to see him, it seems that the relationship between the father and son is not harmonious.
Because of this, Lillian - a nurse at the Second Citizen Hospital who is currently responsible for his condition and daily care - has been standing up for "Jerome".
Lillian was the nurse in the police station, she was on loan to help there.
She followed Jerome''s car back to the hospital.
She has a certain understanding of the Ji family, after all, she also lives on B Street, just a few steps away from the repair shop.
All this is the information that Harper has obtained in the past two days.
Not on good terms with his father?
That suits Harper''s intentions.
If the relationship is too good, it would be difficult to impersonate.
"You really were an innocent victim this time."
Lillian helped Harper sit up and changed his medicine: "Fortunately, this time the medical expenses were all paid from the second-class citizen medical insurance, and you can get some
Prosthesis?
But no one here calls it a prosthesis. They call it the "Empire Web."
Harper wasn''t sure if it was short for "Empire Interconnected Network" or "Network of Established Connections."
¡ª It''s clearly a prosthesis.
During his days in the hospital, he noticed that the control in this country seemed quite stringent.
Certain words were forbidden, like "prosthesis" and "federation."
"You''re back, kid."
The man''s voice was still deep.
Harper gave him a steady look but didn''t respond.
He was loyal to his own character.
The man didn''t mind. The three men in the room seemed to have grown accustomed to this mode of conversation.
"Give it to him, Iggy," the man said. "Take a look."
Beside him, a long-haired man named Iggy, with a scorpion tattoo on his thenar, nodded and took out a cylindrical piece of metal from his pocket.
Thin and seemingly well-kept, it shimmered with a silver glow.
Iggy, Harper had heard this name.
He fixed his gaze on Iggy.
Feeling the boy''s stare, Iggy turned his head, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth stained yellow by smoke.
"Heh heh, kid''s got a big life!"
Jefferson took the metal rod, pushed his foggy, dirty glasses up to take a closer look. "Extreme Fire T80? Don''t your internal mechanics repair this?"
Iggy said, "Heh, small thing, they don''t bother."
"Hmph," Jefferson snorted. "The thing is small, but the process is complicated. A bunch of messy anti-piracy circuits, gives me a headache just looking at them."
The man said, "Fix it, if you can. If not, no worries."
"Chester!" Iggy called out, his voice dropping lower. "I don''t have spare cash for a replacement."
So his name was Chester.
"Where''s your money? Chasing women again?"
"Heh heh, at my age, that''s all I''ve got..."
Chester frowned, seemingly disapproving of Iggy. "Ambition!"
Jefferson seemed to notice his son''s return only then, nodding at Harper. "You''re back? Go inside."
Plain, simple, even somewhat indifferent.
But his tone didn''t sound bad.
Iggy raised his voice, "Hey, Jerome, at least show some concern for your son!"
"I am showing concern."
"This is what you call concern?!"
Harper stared into Jefferson''s eyes for a few seconds, then turned and walked towards the house.
A strange, strange father-son relationship.
What does a normal father-son relationship look like?
Harper got along well with his dad when he was alive. Old Harper was very interested in things boys liked, such as games, sports, and anime.
Even when he caught his son secretly playing a risqu¨¦ GalGame, he just smiled knowingly.
So Harper and Old Harper had a great relationship, always having endless conversations when they were together.
But Harper knew that a dad like Old Harper was rare.
Could a typical father-son relationship be like this?
It seemed like as long as the son was alive, that was enough.
Whether he was doing well or not, what he was thinking about¡ªdid it all not matter?
Harper fell silent.
Because of this, he thought of his dad and mom again.
He blinked, suppressing the hint of tears welling up in his eyes.
He needed to focus.
--- Utility appliance repair manual
Harper quickly started rummaging around the room.
The definition of the middle class in this world struck Harper as odd.
The military''s term "poor laborers" didn''t sound like the middle class at all.
They looked down on second-class citizens, yet the medical insurance of second-class citizens covered all medical expenses.
This was something even the most welfare-friendly countries in the first world couldn''t achieve.
This situation suggested either that Smith''s speculation about the citizen classes of this world was wrong, or...
The rich in this world were too rich, and the poor were too poor.
On the table was a slightly outdated processor. Although it looked different from those in the first world, it was easy to tell from the accompanying screen and keyboard that it was a computer.
Harper looked through the books and supplies around him.
The bookshelf was filled with many puzzle toys, most of which were worn out.
He turned on the computer, which had no login password set.
He opened a browser called "Empire Web" and checked Jerome''s browsing history.
The browsing history contained a lot of video websites, adult sites, social media platforms, streaming websites...
A 17-year-old boy, even with social anxiety, was not hindered from accessing information online.
Harper quickly scrolled through the browsing history, gradually sketching out an image of a teenager in his mind.
Jerome was well aware of his problem, but compared to social anxiety, he was more concerned with another impact of Asperger''s syndrome¡ªsavant syndrome.
The internet said that all the famous geniuses in history had Asperger''s syndrome.
He visited a lot of IQ testing websites, filled out many forms, and even paid several membership fees for so-called "savant clubs."
Harper chuckled.
From this point of view, it seemed that the "savant syndrome" had not befallen Jerome.
All those fees went down the drain, causing "Jerome" quite a bit of frustration.
The information in the social software was also worth scrutinizing.
From the names of the group chats in the software, it was clear that Jerome was still regularly attending school.
He was a student in Class 3 of the high school division of Sunset Middle School and was the labor committee member of his class.
He had been granted two months of leave by his homeroom teacher due to the car accident.
He had very few friends. In the chat list, apart from the polite greetings from his homeroom teacher and class president, there were no other greetings from classmates.
This was a good thing. Harper didn''t want to have to deal with interpersonal relationships among classmates while handling family relations.
However, a message mixed in the "Do Not Disturb" group chat piqued Harper''s interest.
¡¾Thanatos¡¿
Did you go see that mural?
...
The time was 1:18 am on July 21st, a message from two days ago.
At that time, Harper was unconscious in the hospital.
Harper frowned, wanting to scroll through their chat history, but was surprised to find that all previous chat records between "Jerome" and "Thanatos" had been cleared.
Did Jerome clear it himself?
His hand hovered over the keyboard, hesitating for a moment, then quickly typed.
¡¾Sisyphus¡¿
No, I had a car accident and stayed in the hospital for several days.
...
After sending the message, there was no immediate reply from the other side.
Harper waited for a while, then shut down the computer.
The internet was a vast repository of knowledge, but it was also a dangerous swamp.
Posts on the Smith Game forum mentioned that during the pioneering period, many players were discovered and killed by the governments of the second world because they searched for too many things they shouldn''t have on the internet.
These unusual searches were monitored, and soon, the local military came knocking.
Players were not allowed to reveal the existence of the "Smith Game" to the natives.
Once revealed, Smith would erase them on the spot.
Many players lost one "character creation opportunity" in this way, just by looking up some word meanings on the internet.
After shutting down the computer, Harper lay on the bed lost in thought.
After completing the side quest "Survive the Interrogation", Smith didn''t give any new tasks.
Every step he took from now on had to be very cautious.
His heart was beating fast in his chest, a feeling of trepidation he had never experienced before.
"Dum-dum."
There were two moderate knocks on the door from outside, followed by Jefferson''s emotionless voice, "Come out for dinner."
Harper looked up at the time, it was mealtime.
When he was in the hospital, since no one brought him food, he ate the energy bars provided free by the hospital.
They were similar to the energy bars he saw in sci-fi movies, hard and gel-like in texture, with a taste that was neither good nor bad.
Lillian tried hard to find him different flavors, but after eating them for two days, he still found them hard to swallow.
Hmm...
Thinking of Lillian, he should thank her later. He owed her a lot for taking care of him these past few days.
Harper gathered his thoughts and opened the door.
The Jerome''s place wasn''t small, roughly a three-room and one-living-room setup excluding the shop floor area. One room was Harper''s, one was Jefferson''s rest room, and the other was Jefferson''s workroom, which was always closed.
As he opened the door, Jefferson brought in two bowls of rice.
The rice was overcooked, looking like dry porridge.
On the table were simple stewed dishes.
These were pre-packaged meal kits, a huge pile of them stacked on the kitchen shelf.
They had a long shelf life, were nutritionally balanced, and easy to prepare.
They just needed to be heated in an appliance similar to a microwave.
But the taste was far inferior to cooked meals.
Harper noticed the green onions and coriander in the dishes. Since he didn''t know if "Jerome" had any food aversions, he didn''t touch the coriander.
But it seemed Jefferson didn''t care. He didn''t look at his son, nor did he ask how his son was doing.
He just kept shoveling food into his mouth while flipping through the book in his hand.
"Practical Mechanics - Advanced Studies"
The book seemed to have been read for a long time, the edges were frayed from Jefferson''s flipping.
Another book was placed at the edge of the table, within reach of Harper.
Harper glanced at the title, hesitated for a moment, and reached out to take the book.
Jefferson just glanced at him quickly, then lowered his head again to study his own thing.
A thought crossed Harper''s mind.
He spread the book in front of him.
"Practical Appliance Repair Manual", First Empire Publishing House, 755th year edition.
The book was very thick, the same thickness as the New Hua Dictionary, but much larger.
Harper skipped the introduction by a professor from the Imperial Civil Electromechanical University and went straight to the main content.
The article started with a very common household appliance¡ªthe rice cooker.
The content was not difficult to understand, and it was richly illustrated.
The various parts of the appliance were clearly labeled.
As Harper was shoveling rice into his mouth, he suddenly heard a barely audible voice.
¡¾Skill ''Practical Mechanics'' unlocked.¡¿
¡¾''Practical Mechanics'' experience +1¡¿
¡¾''Savant Syndrome'' bonus activated, you will gain an additional 1 point of experience on top of the base experience bonus.¡¿
¡¾''Practical Mechanics'' experience +1¡¿
¡¾''Savant Syndrome'' bonus activated, you will gain an additional 1 point of experience on top of the base experience bonus.¡¿
"..."
Hmm?
A thought crossed Harper''s mind, and he glanced at Jefferson without changing his expression.
The latter was frowning, apparently looking at something difficult to understand.
Harper finished his meal in a few bites, lifted the book in his hand, "Can I take this to read?"
Jefferson glanced at him, "Hmm."
Harper took the book and returned to his room.
--- Probe
...
The moment Harper returned to his room, he checked his panel.
Indeed, compared to what he saw in the pure white space, the panel now had a lot more information.
...
Number: 18146
Forum nickname: None
Name: Harper
Inherent talents: Luck (lost), Clear Mind
Skills: None
Character creation opportunities: 0
And below this panel, a small panel had appeared.
Life Occupant: Jerome
Talents: Savant Syndrome
Skills: Practical Mechanics Lv1, Mysticism Lv1
Unsettled points: 128
...
Wait, Savant Syndrome?
Harper furrowed his brows.
It seemed that Asperger''s syndrome did indeed give Jerome some abilities that were different from ordinary people.
Mysticism?
Where did a 17-year-old kid come into contact with Mysticism?
Harper immediately thought of that contact named "Thanatos".
Mural... what exactly did it refer to?
It seemed that under the cover of social anxiety, there were many mysteries to explore in Jerome.
It was just surprising that the son of a mechanic had not mastered the skill of mechanics until now.
Harper took a deep breath.
He needed to find a way to quickly integrate into this town.
Making the mechanic''s son also a mechanic apprentice was a good way.
He leaned on the bed, flipping through the thick book.
¡¾''Practical Mechanics'' experience +1¡¿
¡¾''Savant Syndrome'' bonus activated, you will gain an additional 1 point of experience on top of the base experience bonus.¡¿
¡¾''Practical Mechanics'' experience +1¡¿
¡¾...¡¿
Bit by bit, slowly filling the skill bar''s groove, Harper''s slightly restless mood gradually calmed down.
The father and son spent the night without a word.
...
The next morning, when Harper woke up, Jefferson was already sitting in the repair shop, busy.
Sunset Town was not small, and Jefferson was the only mechanic in this area.
Harper peeked out.
Jefferson seemed to sense something and looked back, "There are energy bars in the kitchen, remember to eat breakfast."
"Oh."
Harper responded.
It didn''t seem like he didn''t care at all.
Although the energy bars were hard to swallow, at least they could fill the stomach.
At 17, it was the time to grow the body. After a night, his stomach was growling with hunger.
Harper walked to the kitchen, and sure enough, he found a can of energy bars among a pile of pre-packaged meals.
A small energy bar as thick as a thumb could make people feel full for several hours.
Harper put one in his mouth, turned his head, and suddenly noticed the rice cooker placed on the side of the stove.
This rice cooker was very different from those in the first world, more like a pressure cooker.
But it seemed to be broken, revealing the messy wires inside.
Broken?
No wonder yesterday''s rice was cooked like porridge.
Harper stared at it for a while, then walked towards the shop.
"...What''s up?" Jefferson lifted his head from his work and asked bluntly.
"The rice cooker is broken."
"...I know, I''ll fix it when I have time."
When will he have time?
Jefferson''s worktable was already piled up with appliances waiting to be repaired, and customers kept coming in.
It might take a very, very long time for him to actually have time.
"I''ll fix it."
"...Ha?" Jefferson expressed doubt.
Harper didn''t explain much, walked up, and started rummaging in Jefferson''s toolbox.
Surprisingly, Jefferson didn''t stop him, just looking a bit puzzled.
Repairing a rice cooker was the first chapter of the first volume of the "Practical Appliance Repair Manual" he read yesterday.
If Jerome had carefully read that book, then completing the repair wouldn''t be a difficult task.
But...
Hadn''t he always looked down on the work of a mechanic, wanting to be a cyber folklorist?
...
¡¾Repair completed, ''Practical Mechanics'' experience +100¡¿
¡¾''Savant Syndrome'' bonus activated, you will gain an additional 100 points of experience on top of the base experience bonus.¡¿
¡¾''Savant Syndrome'' activated multiple times, you obtain the negative bonus ''Fatigue'', duration 1h.¡¿
¡¾''Practical Mechanics'' level raised to Lv2.¡¿
¡¾Talent unlocked: Nimble Hands¡¿
Harper put down the screwdriver in his hand and looked at his palm.
Soft, slender, flat.
It seemed something had changed, yet it seemed nothing had changed.
He just felt that the slender palm could now do some things more flexibly that he couldn''t do before.
For example, squeezing into a small gap to fiddle with the connecting screws hidden deep inside.
He straightened his back, yawned, and a wave of fatigue washed over him.
Harper returned to his room and fell into the covers.
Why did he repair it?
Harper thought for a moment, this was a kind of surrender, but also a kind of probe.
He was creating a common topic between himself and Jefferson.
Harper couldn''t always not talk to Jefferson, nor could he always say meaningless things like "Hmm", "Oh", "Okay", etc.
He needed to trigger some new conversations, some deeper content.
Also, he didn''t want to pretend to be sick anymore.
Social anxiety might have been a merit that helped him get through the hard times in the past few days. But in the days to come, it would be a stumbling block to his progress.
He needed to start with Jefferson and remove people''s stereotype of him.
Harper admitted that this was somewhat risky.
Sudden changes could make suspicious people think more.
What if they associate it with "Arrival Disease" and initiate another review?
Harper felt that as long as he wasn''t subjected to torture, or the "brain-machine" type of black technology that directly reads brain memories in sci-fi novels, he might be able to make it through.
Waiting quietly for the crisis to come - that wasn''t his style.
At lunchtime, Jefferson put down his unfinished work and walked towards the kitchen.
Taking care of Jerome - this was an important thing he wrote on his memo.
He forgot to repair the rice cooker again today, Jefferson sighed, he was too busy.
Endless repairs didn''t give him a moment''s time.
His eyes swept over the rice cooker, and then stopped there.
Repaired... it''s fixed?
It looked... pretty decent?
Jefferson''s actions were faster than his thoughts, he had opened the interior of the rice cooker with his screwdriver before he had even reacted.
"..."
It was indeed repaired.
And... the repair was perfect, the wiring was neat.
Jefferson was silent.
He poured rice and the corresponding scale of water into the pot - obviously, he was so eager that he forgot to wash the rice.
Connected the power supply, a beep sound.
"Cooking in progress, please wait."
"Gurgle gurgle, gurgle gurgle."
Three minutes later, a pot of beautiful rice appeared in front of him.
"Very normal."
Jefferson said softly.
"It''s just the content of the first chapter of the first volume of the ''Practical Appliance Repair Manual'', it''s expected to be able to repair it."
He said so.
It''s just that those eyes, which usually looked somewhat murky, were showing some sharp light at this moment.
--- Extreme Fire T80
From the rice cooker to the television, and then to the old computer sitting in his room, Harper''s disassembly and reassembly process was relentless.
Even if it was just disassembly, as long as he could correctly reassemble, he would gain a substantial amount of experience points.
Unfortunately, only the first time he completed the disassembly of a certain type of item would he earn a large amount of experience points. Coupled with the bonus provided by his savant syndrome, he would sleep for a while after a period of disassembly and assembly.
After a whole day of "grinding for experience," his "Practical Mechanics" skill quietly leveled up again.
¡¾Practical Mechanics upgraded to Lv3.¡¿
¡¾Talent unlocked: Spirit of Exploration¡¿
¡¾Unlocked content: Practical Mechanics Level I Blueprint¡¿
Then, a large number of blueprint names popped up below.
Most of the blueprints were parts of some civilian mechanical appliances. Harper pulled them out one by one and remembered some blueprints that he might use in his mind.
The talent "Spirit of Exploration" unlocked at Lv3 caught his attention.
¡¾Spirit of Exploration: You can discover more from the surface logic of objects.¡¿
The talent description was very simple, but the actual effect was astonishing.
For example, when he focused his attention on his old computer, some information unconsciously emerged in his mind.
"The main body is a Hesing K78 model, an old fellow from 13 years ago, some parts have been modified - do they all prefer all-in-one machines here? Makes sense, the big companies earn more this way."
Similar to a certain cyberpunk game, "Company" is a class that stands above most citizens in this world.
This world also has some oligarchic enterprises, controlling most of the businesses that citizens rely on for survival.
But it''s very different from 2077, for example, the concept of "Empire" is to surpass all companies.
This is a centralized state.
Outside the Empire, there is a country called the Federation.
The two countries fight daily and have not communicated for many, many years.
These were all things Harper read from the newbie guide posts.
People don''t mention hostile countries in their daily chats, and elements of the "Federation" don''t appear in their daily lives.
Now.
Harper stared at the parts spread out on the ground, lost in thought.
There was a clear grinding mark on a memory board used to store information.
Its factory brand, model, and decorative patterns were all worn out.
Harper held this memory board in his hand and looked at it over and over again.
"Could it be old goods that Jefferson took back?"
Looking at it still works, so he replaced the original, broken memory board?
After thinking about it and getting nowhere, he still put the computer back together.
In Harper''s view, as the best mechanic in Sunset Town, Jefferson''s skills are definitely not limited to repairing household appliances.
For example, the Extreme Fire T80 that Iggy and Chester brought in earlier, it doesn''t seem to fall within the category of civilian electromechanics.
Harper had plans in his heart, although being a mechanic in this strange world and settling down was not a bad thing.
But he still faces a crisis in the real world!
Since he knows this world is strange, waiting is definitely not a good decision.
...
At dinner time, Jefferson, as usual, was engrossed in his book, "Advanced Practical Mechanics."
However, compared to before, his attention seemed a bit distracted.
"Click, click, click."
At the dining table, Harper was showing off his skills, disassembling and assembling a charging pump with one hand.
This device was originally tucked away in a corner of his house, used to power his workspace in case of an unexpected power outage.
The structure of the charging pump was not complicated, but the disassembly alone was a real test of one''s dexterity.
To accomplish what Harper was doing, single-handed disassembly and assembly, Jefferson thought he might not be able to do it.
The key point was, he wouldn''t waste time studying a charging pump.
"Click, click, click."
Harper''s movements were very smooth, so smooth that it didn''t seem like someone who had just started learning mechanics.
Could it be that he was hiding his skills before?
¡¾''Practical Mechanics'' experience +1¡¿
¡¾''Savant Syndrome'' bonus activated, you will gain an additional 1 point of experience on top of the base experience bonus.¡¿
¡¾''Practical Mechanics'' experience +1¡¿
¡¾¡­¡­¡¿
Harper ate his meal without a word.
He was indeed showing off his skills, there was nothing to hide about that.
The sound of mechanical disassembly had a mysterious rhythm that calmed his mind.
When dinner was almost over, Jefferson finally put down his book.
"Have you finished reading that book?"
Harper looked up.
Hook, line, and sinker!
"The ''Practical Appliance Repair Manual''?"
"Hmm."
"There''s about a quarter left."
A hint of surprise surfaced on Jefferson''s usually calm face.
That was a thick book!
It''s only been two days, and he''s already read three-quarters of it?
Jefferson fell into silence.
"Click, click, click..."
Harper''s hands didn''t stop moving.
"..."
Jefferson glanced at the components of the charging pump bouncing in Harper''s left hand and furrowed his brows.
After a good while of pondering, he finally spoke:
"Alright, alright, stop messing with that junk charging pump."
He put down his bowl and stood up: "Follow me."
Harper''s heart skipped a beat as he quickly assembled the charging pump with both hands.
Did he succeed?
Jefferson opened the already pulled up security shutter door and pushed open the door to the outside shop.
The repair shop lit up with dazzling white light.
Jefferson walked to the counter drawer and took out a silver-white object.
Extreme Fire T80.
It was the one that Iggy had brought in for repair.
Jefferson handed it to Harper.
The Extreme Fire T80 was small, retractable, about 10 centimeters long when retracted, and could easily fit in a pocket.
Harper couldn''t find any information about this product online. Considering that they said it was a self-developed product of the Extreme Fire Gang during their conversation, it might be some irregularly regulated item.
"Extreme Fire T80, an entry-level electric baton self-developed by the Extreme Fire Gang, is considered a rather dangerous thing."
Jefferson answered his question.
So it was an electric baton.
Gang members equipped with electric batons... understandable.
"Press your thumb on the side area with patterns, and you can activate the electric baton."
Harper followed the instruction and straightened his arm.
However, nothing happened, the electric baton only made a "squeak" sound.
"That''s an error sound, there''s no arc coming out from the top, you need to first eliminate whether there''s a fault in the release port."
Jefferson said slowly.
"I''ll guide you on how to fix it."
Harper looked at him.
Jefferson looked back at him.
"What are you looking at me for? Start disassembling."
This electric baton is considered a mid-range product, and it''s different from all the products in the "Practical Appliance Repair Manual."
Harper asked, "What if I break it?"
"I''ll pay Iggy for a new one, and you''ll eat energy bars for a month."
Thinking about the rubbery taste of the energy bars, Harper suddenly felt a surge of pressure.
--- Injection
Harper disassembled the device carefully, while Jefferson watched with intense concentration.
His gaze, however, was not focused on the Extreme Fire T80, but on Harper''s hands.
Those hands seemed flexible, soft, and delicate.
Definitely the hands of someone cut out for mechanics.
It''s a pity...
He shook his head inwardly, not quite knowing what he was regretting.
Harper was meticulous, and his eyesight was surprisingly good.
Even a tiny 1 millimeter connecting screw could be carefully removed by him and attracted to the magnetic tray.
Now, he finally understood what Jefferson meant by "complicated process."
Inside the small cylinder, many circuit components were integrated, which looked complex and dense.
He slowly disassembled those things, only to find that most of them were useless.
Perhaps the only purpose, as Jefferson had said, was to prevent theft and plagiarism.
"The circuit is fine," Harper said.
Once the inside of the machine was opened, the problem could be clearly identified.
"Hmm, it seems there''s a fault in the release port."
Harper disassembled the port, scraped the release port area with a knife tip, and found that the metal had oxidized.
Well, that made things much easier. Harper let out a sigh of relief.
He removed the port, put it in a solution for acid washing, and then reinstalled it. That would be the job done.
After spending some more time reassembling the Extreme Fire T80, Harper slowly exhaled.
"Shall we try it?" He twisted his somewhat stiff neck to look at Jefferson.
"Don''t point it at people."
Harper''s thumb covered the patterned area again, applied a little force, and to his surprise, a dazzling white "electric current" sprayed out from the release port, accompanied by a frightening crackling sound.
"Hmm!"
Harper was a bit surprised, then he frowned.
"The maximum current is 42 volts, the lethality is far from enough... but the visual and auditory effects are maxed out - could there have been a mistake during assembly?"
The safe voltage for the human body is 36 volts, and the power of 42 volts is not enough to kill or even cause unconsciousness.
He looked at Jefferson with some confusion, but the other just nodded with a poker face, "It''s fixed."
"Is it fixed?"
"The Extreme Fire Gang is a street gang, not a killer organization."
Jefferson explained, "The weapons they carry only need to have enough deterrent power. Otherwise, if someone gets killed, it would be bad for everyone."
"Oh..."
"This thing," Jefferson took the electric baton, tossed it a couple of times, "The police would only classify it as ''general protective gear.'' Carrying general protective gear does not violate the Empire''s safety laws. The police in the South Horse District and the Extreme Fire Gang have always been at odds. If they were caught carrying dangerous weapons, many unsolved crimes in the South Horse District over the years would be pinned on the members of the Extreme Fire Gang."
Harper nodded. From the last interrogation, it was clear that the police and military of the Empire were not very reliable.
It seemed that the social contradictions of this world were reflected in various aspects.
Jefferson put the Extreme Fire T80 back in the drawer, lifted his head, and for the first time in a long time, seemed to look at his son directly.
"You do have some talent..."
It took over an hour to repair the Extreme Fire T80. He looked at the time, it was not yet 9 PM, still early.
"Come, lend a hand."
Jefferson pointed to the household appliances on the table that hadn''t had a chance to be repaired yet.
The repair of these appliances usually took Jefferson one to two days.
Then, in one to two days, a large batch of appliances that would take him another one to two days to repair would accumulate again.
Father and son each sat under a lamp and began to repair in silence.
From nine o''clock to three in the morning, the pile of broken appliances was cleared.
A trace of fatigue appeared on Harper''s face.
His "genius disease" debuff had kicked in again.
But the good news was that the experience progress bar of the just-upgraded "Mechanics - Practical Subject" Level 3 had already risen by a third.
Jefferson checked Harper''s repair results.
As expected, they were very good.
Even in terms of wiring and aesthetics, they were better than Jefferson''s.
Jefferson looked at his own results, his face turning red due to the shoddy work and deception.
"Go to sleep," he noticed the fatigue on Harper''s face, "You don''t have to do anything tomorrow, just finish the remaining quarter of the book."
"Oh."
...
With Jefferson''s words, Harper really did stay in his room all day the next day, gnawing on the thick "Practical Appliance Repair Manual."
The remaining quarter wasn''t too difficult, mainly explaining the common types of household appliances in the Empire.
Again, it was full of pictures and text, intricate yet interesting.
In the evening, an unexpected person knocked on his door.
"...Lillian?"
It was the nurse, Lillian, who visited.
She had shed her white medical coat, dressed casually, and was cheerfully carrying a medical box, "Oh, it looks like you''re recovering well - I won''t come into your room, let''s go to the living room."
Harper didn''t know why she was here and came to the living room with a puzzled look.
Lillian lived about twenty meters away from their house. Her parents were quite old and had only one daughter, who ran a grocery store in town.
This was what Harper had learned when he went out to buy energy bars these past two days.
"Uncle Ji said you''re not in a good state of mind, so he asked me to give you an IV drip of nutrient solution."
Lillian skillfully patted the chair, picked up the coat hanger and hung it on the window sill, then hung the nutrient solution on the coat hanger.
"I think he really cares about you."
Lillian had said a lot of bad things about Jefferson when she was in the hospital, and now she felt a bit guilty.
Not in a good state of mind?
Harper realized it may have been because Jefferson noticed when he had his debuff yesterday.
"Hmm."
He nodded and sat down.
It was just a nutrient solution, so he didn''t mind getting one.
The bag of nutrient solution was huge and took a long time to drip.
In this way, it wasn''t much different from the first world.
He always thought that in a world where even floating cars existed, there should be some drugs like "recovery" potions that could cure all diseases with one inhalation.
But there was nothing like that.
"We are short of supplies here, but I guess there should be plenty of what you mentioned in the capital circle."
Lillian answered, "But even though we are short of supplies, it''s much better than the mining pits. I heard that children there are left to fend for themselves from birth, toughing out minor illnesses and waiting to die from major ones..."
Harper''s heart moved.
Mining pits...
That might be the birthplace of the "poverty" class.
After the nutrient solution was finished, Lillian checked his wound and changed his medicine.
Because the wound showed signs of inflammation and swelling, she also gave Harper an injection of anti-inflammatory medicine.
She cleaned up the medical waste and looked around.
"Throw it in the trash can, I''ll take it out later."
Harper said without any change in his expression.
"Okay, then I''ll leave it to you."
Lillian cheerfully bundled up the garbage and threw it into the Ji family''s trash can.
After sending Lillian away, Harper wiped the blood seeping from the needle hole and returned to the living room.
He squatted beside the trash can.
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