The data of the colony collapsed again. Dongfang Lu didn't even raise his head, and his fingers clicked on the keyboard. She stared at the dense codes on the screen, her eyes sore and swollen. Which module? Mood Monitoring System, District 7. The one who spoke was the technician sitting opposite, named Zhao Tiezhu. He had a strong Northeastern accent. This time, it was not a minor problem, and the entire line was paralyzed. The superiors are urging us hard, telling us to pack up and get out if we can't fix it again. Dongfang Lu finally raised her head and rubbed her temples. Her workstation is in the underground machine room of Colony Three, with humming ventilation ducts overhead and the smell of engine oil and burning plastic filling the air. After staying in this shabby place for three years, she has become accustomed to the stuffy heat here, the complaints from her colleagues, and the bugs that can never be fixed every day. Let me see. She pulled up real-time data from District 7. A series of waveform charts pop up on the screen, with blue representing the emotional value and red representing the stress index. Under normal circumstances, the two lines should remain stable, and occasionally they will recover quickly if they fluctuate. But now the red line is like a crazy electrocardiogram, shaking violently, and the peak value breaks through the warning line again and again. Tsk. Dongfang Lu frowned, this is wrong. Zhao Tiezhu came closer, his head almost touching her shoulder: What's wrong? Look here.
