My name is Lu Shen. I have a master’s degree in folklore. While sorting through my master’s belongings at a Taoist temple, I found a bloodstained notebook.
It was filled with phrases like “whispers of the Outer Gods” and “cognitive contamination,” along with a line written in blood:
“For five thousand years, our civilization has kept the stars fooled, for now.”
That night, a hundred tourists at the foot of the mountain passed out together, chanting sounds beyond comprehension.
An agent from the national Office for the Control of Anomalous Entities arrived under the moon and said to me:
“Comrade Lu Shen, your destiny is unusual. Report for duty tomorrow. We’ll provide social insurance and a housing fund. Your job is to fight the Outer Gods.”
From then on, the style of my report-writing changed completely:
“Request for Instructions on Mediating a Water-Territory Dispute Between a Flood Dragon and Deep Ones Under Article 83 of the Civil Code”
“Final Report on Using Algorithms from the Book of Changes to Counter Memetic Contamination from the ‘Shadow of Prosperity’ in the Financial District”
“Operating Standards V1.0 for Temporarily Registering and Managing the Old Ones Based on Taoist Rituals”
They say fear comes from the unknown.
My job is to file the “unknown,” give it a reference number, and write it up in an assessment report.
Until a gaze from the depths of space fell upon us, and humanity faced its ultimate judgment at a global conference in the Purple Cloud Palace.
I showed the gods and demons of every heaven our final card:
“Our civilization is full of bugs, but one line of code never crashes:
Even knowing that everything will eventually become nothing, we still choose to believe in tomorrow.”
