Alien Plastic
About This Novel
Seven cryogenic chambers screamed in the red light of the alarm. Zhang Yang fished out the unfinished manuscript from the rusty bottom of the cabin. The yellowed novel was exuding the scent of fresh ink - the ballistic trajectory of policeman Li Xiu and the seven fluorescent cocoons hanging upside down from the dome were all accurately marked in the scrawled handwriting he did not know how many years ago. This dormant station, whose past has been erased, is devouring reality in units of novel chapters. Human bugs reproduce the killing procedures in the manuscript in the ventilation ducts, the psychologist's lies erode trust more than acid, and every insect egg crushed by military boots explodes memory fragments. When the scarlet countdown popped up on the display of the dormant cabin, and when roars came from the depths of the insect nest, the survivors suddenly understood the rules: the loom of destiny had spun all the threads before it opened, and every fold had accurately measured the scale of dawn and dusk.
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