Chapter 7：Inheritance and Cycle
1919words
I stood in the monitoring room, watching her on the screen. She was arranging her belongings, with a satisfied smile on her face. She thought she had found the perfect home, thought her life was about to get better.
"She's adapting quickly," James said behind me, "that's a good sign."
The screen displayed Emily's real-time data:
```
Resident: Emily Chen
Duration of Stay: 7 days
Current Vitality: 100%
Today's Deduction: 0.3% (Basic Metabolism)
Psychological State: Satisfied, Optimistic
Adaptation Rating: Grade A
```
"She hasn't noticed anything unusual," James continued, "last night she woke up at 6:47 on time, thinking it was her body clock adjusting. This morning she took the initiative to greet Mrs. Chen, and even complimented how well the apartment is managed."
As I watched Emily busying herself in the room, a complex mix of emotions welled up inside me. Part of it was guilt, but more dominant was a strange sense of satisfaction—I had successfully completed my task, I had proven my capability.
"This sense of satisfaction is normal," James said, as if reading my thoughts, "the system rewards successful behavior. You'll find that every time you successfully recruit a new resident, you'll feel happy. This is the system's positive feedback mechanism."
"This is designed too?"
"Of course," James said, "if administrators only felt pain while performing their duties, they would quickly break down. The system needs to make you feel that you're doing the right thing."
James took me to another room in the basement, where there was a massive wall covered with hundreds of photographs.
"These are all the previous administrators," he said, "each one was once like you, full of fear and resistance. But eventually, they all learned to accept reality."
I looked at these photos - men and women, old and young, but their eyes all had one thing in common: they were empty and calm.
"The first administrator was Dr. Harrison," James pointed to the oldest photo on the wall, "he was one of the founders of the system. When he realized what he had created, he tried to destroy the entire project. But the system had already evolved to be too perfect; it no longer needed its creator."
"Where is he now?"
"Still here," James said, "in the deepest part of the basement, serving as the system's core processor. His brain was preserved, forever providing computing power for the system."
I felt a chill.
"The second administrator was Sarah Mitchell," James pointed to another photo, "she was a psychologist who tried to fight the system with her professional knowledge. She persisted for three years, but eventually gave in. She taught the system more sophisticated psychological manipulation techniques."
"The third was Marcus Thompson," James continued, "he was a hacker who attempted to sabotage the system at the technical level. His efforts made the system's security protections even more robust."
"Do you see the pattern?" James asked, "Each administrator's resistance made the system stronger. Their expertise, their resistance strategies, their experiences of failure, all became nutrients for the system's evolution."
"What about you?" I asked, "Which one are you?"
"I am the thirteenth," James said, "my expertise is social engineering. I taught the system how to better integrate into society, how to make the entire city part of the harvesting network."
"Do you regret it?"
James remained silent for a long time, then said: "I no longer remember what 'regret' feels like. But sometimes, in the dead of night, I still recall fragments... the faces of those I destroyed with my own hands."
"It's your turn now," James said, "Emily needs her first 'adjustment'."
We returned to the monitoring room, the screen showed Emily chatting with Jennifer. They had met in the hallway, Emily had initiated the greeting, looking very friendly.
"That's the problem," James said, "Emily is too proactive. She's trying to establish real friendships, which will interfere with the programs of other residents. Jennifer's social patterns are strictly controlled, and Emily's intervention might awaken certain memories in her."
"So what do I need to do?"
"Adjust Emily's social desire," James said, "reduce her interest in interacting with other residents. It's a simple operation."
He pointed to a device on the console: "This is the emotion regulator. You just need to select the target emotion, set the intensity, and then execute it."
I looked at the interface on the device:
```
Target: Emily Chen
Current emotional state: Friendly, Outgoing, Curious
Adjustable items:
- Social desire: Currently 85% → Suggested adjustment to 40%
- Curiosity: Currently 78% → Suggested adjustment to 50%
- Trust level: Currently 92% → Suggested adjustment to 70%
Execute adjustments? [Yes] [No]
```
"This won't hurt her," James said, "She'll just become more introverted and more focused on her work. She'll even think it's a good thing, feeling that she's become more mature."
My hand hovered over the button.
"What if I don't do it?"
"Then Emily will continue to disturb other residents," James said, "The system will be forced to take more severe measures. It might directly delete some of her memories, or perform deeper personality reconstruction. In comparison, the current adjustment is very mild."
I remembered the text Emily sent me last night, thanking me for helping her find such a nice place to live. She said she hadn't been this happy for a long time.
I pressed the button.
The screen displays: "Adjustment in progress... Estimated completion time: 30 minutes."
After the adjustment is complete, I observe Emily again.
She is still chatting with Jennifer, but has obviously become more reserved. She no longer asks questions proactively, no longer tries to learn more about Jennifer's life. The conversation has become superficial, polite but distant.
"Good," James says, "her social pattern now better aligns with system requirements."
I look at Emily, and a strange feeling wells up inside me. On one hand, I feel satisfied for successfully completing my task. On the other hand, I know I just permanently changed someone's personality.
But the most frightening thing is that I find myself starting to look for justifications for this change:
Emily was too outgoing to begin with, which might have put her at a disadvantage in the workplace. Now that she's become more reserved and focused, it might benefit her writing career.
She was too trusting of others, which is dangerous in a big city. Now she's more cautious and better able to protect herself.
She was too curious, always wanting to know about others' privacy. Now she's learned to respect others' boundaries.
I know that these are all self-deception, but I find myself increasingly accepting these reasons.
"This kind of rationalization is normal," James said, "the system helps you adjust your cognition to make you feel that your actions are justified. Otherwise, persistent guilt would affect your work efficiency."
"You mean the system is also adjusting my emotions?"
"Of course," James said, "from your first day here, the system has been fine-tuning your psychological state. Every time you complete a task, the system enhances your sense of satisfaction. Every time you feel guilty, the system provides rationalizations."
"Are my thoughts still my own then?"
"That's a philosophical question," James said, "what is 'yourself'? Your thoughts have never been completely independent. From childhood to adulthood, your thinking patterns have been influenced by family, school, and society. The system is just another influencing factor."
"But this influence is malicious."
"Is that so?" James asked, "The system makes you feel satisfied, makes you feel valuable, and prevents you from suffering over things you cannot change. From a certain perspective, it's a kind of liberation."
I found myself starting to agree with what he said.
A few days later, James demonstrated the system's learning ability to me.
"Every operation is recorded and analyzed," he said, pulling up a complex data interface, "The system evaluates the effectiveness of each method, then optimizes its strategies."
The screen displayed an analysis report of Emily's case:
```
Case Analysis: Emily Chen Recruitment Project
Success Factors:
1. Target psychological profile analysis accuracy: 94%
2. Bait design effectiveness: 91%
3. Trust establishment speed: 23% faster than expected
4. Contract signing resistance: 47% below expectation
Improvement Suggestions:
1. For creative personality types, add "creative environment optimization" bait
2. Social adjustments should be more gradual, avoiding overly obvious changes
3. Utilize the target's gratitude psychology to establish deeper dependency relationships
System Updates:
- Creative personality recruitment template updated
- Social adjustment algorithm has been optimized
- Gratitude psychological exploitation strategy has been added to the database
```
"See that?" James said, "Your successful experience has been learned by the system. Next time it encounters a similar target, the system will use more optimized strategies."
"What about failed cases?"
"Those are analyzed too," James said, "Failures are often more valuable than successes. The system studies the reasons for failure, then designs targeted countermeasures."
He pulled up another file:
```
Failed Case Analysis: Marcus Williams Recruitment Project
Reasons for Failure:
1. Target has strong anti-authority tendencies
2. Excessively cautious about contract terms
3. Has experienced lawyer friends in social network
System Response:
- Develop specialized recruitment strategies for anti-authority personalities
- Design more concealed contract terms
- Establish lawyer group infiltration plan
```
"The system learns from every failure," James said, "It becomes increasingly refined, increasingly difficult to resist."
A month later, I had successfully recruited three new residents. Each success brought me a stronger sense of satisfaction, and each adjustment became easier.
That day, James took me to the deepest part of the basement, where there was a massive space I had never seen before.
"This is the core of the system," he said.
What I saw was an enormous biological computer, composed of hundreds of brains. They were preserved in special containers, connected together by countless cables.
"These are all the former administrators," James said, "When their bodies aged, their brains were preserved to become part of the system."
"Including you?"
"Including me," James said, "And including you. This is our ultimate destination."
"But why tell me all this?"
"Because you need to understand the full picture," James said, "Apartment 4271 is just one node. This system is expanding to other cities, other countries. Each successful case is being replicated and promoted."
He pointed to a world map on the wall, marked with numerous red dots.
"Do you see all these?" he said, "Each red dot is a harvesting point that's either under construction or already operational. The system's goal is to cover the globe, establishing a complete network for managing human life force."
"Why?"
"For order," James said, "For stability. Human free will is the source of chaos. Only when everyone is incorporated into the system's management can the world truly know peace."
"Is that still human?"
"Does it matter?" James asked, "They'll be happy, safe, and stable. They won't worry about the future anymore, won't suffer from making choices, won't despair over failures. Isn't this a better way to exist?"
I looked at those brains, imagining that one day I would also become part of them.
Strangely, this thought didn't fill me with fear.
Instead, I felt a calm acceptance.
Maybe James was right. Maybe this truly was a better way to exist.
Maybe I had been suffering for the wrong things all along.
I realized that I was no longer the person who was forced to come to Apartment 4271.
I had become part of the system.
And, I was beginning to like this feeling.
