I Repair the Truth in a Strange World

This book is cold and clear. Through a layer of fog, you can see the outline of the world, but you can't touch it. A story about rules. Not that kind of fable, but a few simple instructions thrown into a room, written down, and played and lived. The rules will change and become the air you breathe. Think with its logic and measure with its standards. The immersion is scary and addictive. When everything around him is going out of control, the protagonist is still recording, observing, and classifying. This calmness has become a convincing thing in the book. Because in a crazy environment, the rational response may be just to watch in silence. Several other people in the book each carry their own wounds and armor. There are many familiar shadows on them. People who always want to maintain order, people who are overwhelmed by fear, people who use faith as a shield. The relationship between them is not a simple alliance or hostility, but a symbiosis that is constantly twisted and re-welded under high pressure. There is a kind of precision and indifference, not sensational, but you can feel the undercurrent under the skin is heating. This is not for people looking for a relaxing pastime. It doesn't give answers, it gives keys and opens doors one after another. Behind some doors are puzzles, echoes, nothing. It's a lot like solving an equation that has no standard answer, or staring into a slowly rotating kaleidoscope, with beautiful patterns but little more than fragments inside. Questions of sin, choice, truth and performance will continue to murmur like background noise. It doesn't tell you what it thinks of the world, pushing you up to the cracks in the mirror and looking in. If you also like the feeling of being entangled in a thought and thinking about it over and over again. You also feel that the best suspense is not who the murderer is, but what kind of game we are playing. Then the aftertaste left by this book will probably stay in your heart for a long time. It is a logical and sleep-inducing thought experiment. I haven't fully come out yet.

I touched a copper coin and the world cracked before my eyes. I saw the structure and cracks of rules from this. In the manor, humanity is the scoring chip. In the academy, knowledge is a purchased commodity. They labeled me an anomaly and wanted to be included. I slowly got a taste for it This system does not recruit players. I came to see a doctor to cure the increasingly crazy diseases in the world. I was used to watching. But I have seen too many cries that have been modified by rules, assimilated or ignored, and I can no longer just be a recorder. When a contract that meant compromise was pushed in front of me, everyone felt that I could only sign it. I smiled and took the pen. After all, if you want to operate on the wrong world you must first have the ability to touch its operating table.

Watching other guests in the dim manor, using knowledge as a bargaining chip to buy dreams in the academy... I am not a player in this game, just a traveler who happens to become hope. He was simply crazy. Even if this straw was once just an ordinary file clerk. But, compared with those files, this endless weird game is more fascinating. So, I chose to agree to Him. Now, are you interested in joining me... Saving countless worlds?

Is there a new genre of non-numerical or paradise-type infinite flow? A bit interesting

With the length of the first world, it is already very good to allow the audience to clarify the world view. The process from vagueness to clarity also makes readers think: use reason to fight against the weird, and there is some incomprehensible order hidden behind the truth.

I can't stand it anymore at the beginning. It looks a bit like it was written by AI. The introductory sentences are not very smooth. It's average.