Chapter 34: The World Cup Begins
If there is anyone in this world who lives in a nutshell and still fancies themselves the king of the universe, it should not be Shang Lu, but Shen Jiang.
The cockpit of the Titan is a massive nutshell, filled with a viscous, pale blue liquid. Inside, the young woman curls her body, eyes closed, her spine connected to a web of complex cables and conduits. When she is immersed in that world which belongs solely to her, there is not another person on earth capable of peering into her mind. The monitoring systems in the Engineering Office might register the complex electrical activity of the pilot's brain, but they could never decode it—except for that dark red giant, standing silently in the workshop.
The mental worlds of Titan pilots are a secret to outsiders. They are the top geniuses of human society, possessing talent far beyond that of ordinary people, and at the same time, they are the first to have their brains interfaced with computers. Shang Lu says they are a group of cyberpunk humans, and there is truth to that. Technology at the beginning of the twenty-first century was far from capable of organically fusing humans with machines; a crude, blunt, and insane technology like BCI carries a certain punk sensibility.
From a technical perspective, the BCI system is essentially the act of jamming wires into a brain—a process so brutal it is shocking. Humans, unable to find the true entrance to the mind, chose to smash down the door by force.
Shen Jiang opened her eyes.
The zero-gravity buffer fluid balancing had finished, and the liquid level began to recede.
To ensure the pilot remains in a near-weightless state while inside the capsule, the IRGF requires periodic balancing.
"Shen Jiang, are you alright?" the voice of 1047, the director of the Engineering Office, came through her earpiece.
"Quiet, I'm talking to her," Shen Jiang said.
"Her?" 1047 paused. "Who is she?"
Shen Jiang lifted her head. "It's just her."
She was referring to Red Lotus.
1047 was baffled. Red Lotus was a machine, a computer, a cold, lifeless object. How could a human converse with a repeating machine? If Red Lotus had the capacity to pass a Turing test, there would be no need for a pilot at all.
"You don't understand." Shen Jiang shook her head. The IRGF fluid level had dropped below her waist. She tapped the inner wall of the cockpit to bring up the control panel and check the parameters.
"Alright then." 1047's tone was a bit muffled. "Work is over. Want to grab some lunch later?"
"Sure."
The cockpit hatch opened. Shen Jiang disconnected the cables and conduits from her body, removed her helmet, and climbed out, standing on the boarding bridge, drenched, as she took a deep breath.
Slightly viscous buffer fluid dripped onto the metal floor; every time she exited the cockpit, Shen Jiang felt like a water ghost. The outermost layer of her anti-G suit was made of sturdy, waterproof PE fiber, which felt rough to the touch. It featured an exoskeleton over her spine and joints, with a water-cooling grid underneath. A full set of gear usually weighed several dozen kilograms.
Her sweat-drenched black bangs clung to her skin. The girl stood there for a long while with her eyes closed, her fair neck arched slightly—just looking at her shoulders and neck, one could tell she was a slender girl, though her body was encased in the clumsy, heavy exoskeleton. Shen Jiang turned her head slightly, as if listening to something, and transparent beads of sweat slid down her jawline.
She lowered her head to look around, spotting a bulging black backpack sitting by the railing of the boarding bridge.
Shen Jiang crouched down, unzipped the bag, and took out a palm-sized white plastic box. She opened the lid, peeled away the foam, and revealed a pre-packaged blunt-tipped syringe.
She flicked the syringe with her finger, held it up to the light to confirm the colorless, transparent liquid inside, and then deftly found the right spot on the back of her head and inserted it with a slight push.
As the liquid was