"Viewers, welcome to the Human Completion Project!"
I smiled at the camera, and the monsters in the mental hospital behind me were rioting - but no one knew in the barrage that the mass of flesh and blood was me three days ago.
As the Federation's "Chief Broadcaster", my job is to broadcast the process of human beings transforming into monsters.
Until an abnormality emerged in the death data of her daughter Nuan Nuan: the cross she drew with chalk before she died burned through the firewall of the Education Bureau.
The world is a cognitive farm:
The red scarf absorbs the sense of honor and grows tentacles, the blackboard of the cram school can be folded into a two-way foil, and the unemployment rate exceeds the standard and hatches man-eating monsters. And all education systems are just channels for feeding "Gaia consciousness".
My live broadcast is out of control:
In 2023, Nuan Nuan's ashes exude quantum code, the experimental video from 1991 plays automatically - the father injects luminous fluid into the spine of a schoolchild, and the barrage spoiler in 2077: [You will kill your father and become a god in 72 hours].
Now, I hold the warm chalk (which can tamper with the laws of physics) in my left hand, and the "time anchor point" rewarded by the audience in my right hand. The ghost of the experimental subject in 1991 crawled out of the crack in my spine.
This God-killing live broadcast spanning three eras must be completed:
Detonate illegal happiness in the quantum classroom, fold the college entrance examination papers into paper airplanes and shoot them through the AI Academic Affairs Office, and cast all the wrong answers of mankind into bullets - even if the cost is that my name will be erased from all history.
When the countdown reached zero, the gun was pointed at his six-year-old self.
Reader comments
Very nice. Although the knowledge cannot be understood.
Very nice. Although the knowledge cannot be understood.