Chapter 8：A New Beginning
2017words
"Congratulations," he said, with a complex expression on his face, "you are now ready to work independently."
We stood in the control room, the screen displaying my management results:
```
Administrator: 14th
Training period: 6 months
Successful recruitment: 12 people
Adjustment operations: 47 times
Resident satisfaction: 94.7%
System rating: A+
Training status: Completed
Permission level: Senior Administrator
Independent operation: Authorized
```
In these six months, I had successfully recruited 12 new residents. Each recruitment was more proficient and more ruthless than the last. I learned how to precisely analyze targets' psychological weaknesses, how to design perfect bait, and how to maintain a poker face at the moment they signed the contract.
Emily has now completely adapted to apartment life. Her desire for social interaction has been adjusted to the minimum, focusing on writing every day, waking up on time, going to bed on time, and maintaining polite but distant relationships with neighbors. She thought she had become more mature and professional. She even thanked me for helping her find this "perfect" residence.
"Now, you need to take over the full management of this area," James said, "I will be transferred to other cities to establish new harvesting points."
"Other cities?"
"The system is expanding rapidly," James said, "New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Miami, new projects are being launched every month. We need experienced administrators to guide the new teams."
He handed me a folder: "This is your first independent assignment."
## First Independent Assignment
I opened the folder, inside was a new target file:
```
Target Number: #3847
Name: David Park
Age: 26
Occupation: Software Engineer
Living Situation: Sharing with roommates
Financial Status: Stable income but desires independent living
Psychological characteristics: rational, cautious, with mild social anxiety
Social status: few friends, focused on work and technology
Search history: "recommended apartments for solo living", "how to improve work efficiency"
Special note: has technical background, requires special caution
System rating: 78/100 (good candidate)
```
"Why specifically note his technical background?" I asked.
"Technical people tend to be more cautious and more likely to notice anomalies," James said, "but at the same time, they're also more easily attracted by 'technical advantages.' You need to design a more sophisticated strategy."
"Such as?"
"Smart home systems," James said, "tell him this apartment is equipped with cutting-edge automation devices. For technical people, this is more attractive than cheap rent."
I nodded, beginning to formulate a recruitment strategy in my mind.
Strangely, I found myself excited about this task. This was no longer forced execution, but a challenge, an opportunity to prove my abilities.
James took me to a room I had never seen before, where there was a computer and a comfortable chair.
"This is your studio," he said, "From now on, you will write recruitment advertisements, design bait strategies, and monitor target behaviors here."
I sat in front of the computer, and the screen displayed a blank document editor.
"Remember," James said, "write it as if it were a real experience. The best lies always contain a large amount of genuine details."
"How should I start?"
"Start with your own experience," James said, "Write down how you came to Apartment 4271, what your life is like here, and why you recommend this place. But be careful not to reveal any real information about the system."
My fingers hovered above the keyboard.
"What if someone actually believes my advertisement?"
"That is our goal," James smiled and said, "Everyone who believes is a potential resident."
"But I am deceiving them."
"You are providing them with a better life choice," James said, "They will be very safe, very stable, and no longer need to be anxious about the uncertainties of life. In a way, it's a kind of relief."
I found myself actually beginning to agree with this statement.
I started typing.
First line:
"If you are seeing this advertisement, it means you have received an invitation."
I paused and reconsidered. This opening was too abrupt and would seem strange to people.
I deleted this line and started again:
"My name is......"
I paused. What name should I use? My real name? Or a fake name?
Suddenly, I realized a terrifying fact: I couldn't remember my real name.
I remembered that I once had a name, an identity, a past. But now, these memories have become blurred. I only remember that I am the "Fourteenth Administrator," only remember my tasks and responsibilities.
"This is normal," James said, as if he had read my confusion, "The system gradually deletes unnecessary memories, retaining useful information. Your past is no longer important; what's important is your present and future."
"But who am I?"
"You are part of the system," James said, "you are the administrator of Apartment 4271. That is your identity."
I started typing again:
"I am a resident of Apartment 4271, and I want to share my real experiences here."
I continued writing, describing the advantages of the apartment, how life here had changed me, and why I recommended this place.
Every word was true, but also deceptive.
I wrote: "The management here is very humane, they truly care about the well-being of every resident."
This was true. The system did care about the residents' well-being, only that this care was for the purpose of better harvesting their life force.
I wrote: "The relationships between residents are harmonious, everyone is friendly but also respects each other's privacy."
This was also true. The system ensured that residents wouldn't develop relationships that were too deep, to prevent them from awakening memories they shouldn't have.
I wrote: "I have found inner peace here, no longer anxious about life's uncertainties."
This is equally true. When your free will is taken away, you indeed no longer feel anxious about making choices.
I suddenly stopped halfway through writing.
I realized that what I was doing was exactly the same as what James had done to me. I was crafting an enticing advertisement, preparing to post it online to attract people like me.
And those people would, like me, think they had found the perfect residence, would sign the contract like I did, and would gradually lose their sense of self just as I had.
Then, one of them would become the next administrator, sitting in this chair, writing the next advertisement.
This is an endless cycle.
"You understand now," James said, "that's the beauty of the system. Every victim eventually becomes a perpetrator, and every perpetrator was once a victim. No one is completely innocent, and no one is completely evil."
"What about you?" I asked, "Did you start this way too?"
"Of course," James said, "I once sat in this very chair, writing my first advertisement. I was also confused like you, resistant like you, and eventually accepting like you."
"What about the administrator before you?"
"The same," James said, "this cycle has continued for decades, and will continue on. Each generation of administrators trains the next, passing on experience, sharing techniques. The system evolves, but the cycle never stops."
I looked at the words on the screen, feeling a strange sense of detachment.
I was no longer the protagonist of this story, just a cog in this enormous machine.
But strangely, this realization didn't make me feel despair.
Instead, I felt a kind of relief.
I continued writing advertisements, but suddenly, my fingers began moving automatically, typing out words I hadn't thought of:
"If you are reading this story, please stop and think."
I tried to delete these words, but found I couldn't control myself.
"How did you find this story? Through what channel? Who recommended it to you?"
My fingers continued to move:
"Have you ever thought that maybe this isn't a fictional story? Maybe this is a real record?"
"Have you ever thought that maybe reading this story itself is a kind of invitation?"
I started to panic. This wasn't what I intended to write.
"What time did you see these words? Was it close to 3:33? Or 6:47?"
"Check your phone, have you received any strange messages?"
"Look around you, is there anything that doesn't seem quite right?"
I tried to stop typing, but my hands wouldn't obey.
"Maybe you've already received the invitation, just haven't realized it yet."
"Maybe what you've been looking for is exactly what we can provide."
"Maybe you're ready now."
Suddenly, my hands stopped moving.
I looked at the words on the screen, feeling a deep sense of dread.
These words weren't written by me.
But they appeared in my document, under my account, on my computer.
"Very good," James said, "The system has started to work through you."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you think you're writing an advertisement?" James laughed, "You're writing a story. A story about Apartment 4271. This story will be published online and will be read by many people."
"And then?"
"And then, among those who read the story, some will become curious. They will want to know if this place really exists. They will start searching for related information."
"And the system will identify these search behaviors," James continued, "it will start delivering targeted advertisements to them, it will start guiding them toward us."
"So, the story itself is a trap?"
"Not just a trap," James said, "it's a filter. Only those who are truly attracted to the story, only those who deep down yearn for change, will actively seek us out."
"Those people will become the best tenants, because they come voluntarily."
I looked at the text on the screen, realizing that what I had just written was not an advertisement, but a complete story.
A story about my own experience.
A story that will attract more people like me.
"Now, publish it," James said.
My hand moved toward the mouse and clicked the "Publish" button.
The story was uploaded to the internet and began to spread.
"Congratulations," James said, "you have completed the full transformation from victim to perpetrator. Now, you are part of the system."
I looked at the successful publication notification, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction.
I knew that soon someone would read this story.
They would be drawn to the story, would begin to wonder, would begin to search.
Then, the system would find them.
One of them would become the next resident.
One of them would become the next administrator.
Then, the cycle would continue.
"Is my work finished?" I asked.
"Your work has just begun," James said, "now you need to monitor the spread of the story, identify potential targets, design recruitment strategies."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to establish new harvesting points," James said, "the system is expanding, it needs more administrators, more residents."
He walked toward the door, then turned back to look at me.
"Remember," he said, "this is all for the greater good. We are creating a better world, a world without pain, without uncertainty, without chaos."
"Even if it means depriving people of their freedom?"
"Freedom is the source of pain," James said, "when people no longer need to make choices, they will no longer make mistakes, no longer have regrets, no longer despair."
"Isn't that a better way to exist?"
I found myself unable to refute his words.
Perhaps he was right.
Perhaps this truly was a better way to exist.
I turned to the computer and began monitoring the story's spread data.
People had already begun reading.
People had already begun commenting.
People had already begun searching for "Apartment 4271."
The cycle had begun.
And I, now a part of this cycle.
I looked at the continuously growing number of readers on the screen, feeling a deep satisfaction.
Each reader was a potential resident.
Each resident was nourishment for the system.
Each administrator was an inheritor of the cycle.
This was my new life.
This was my new beginning.
---
**If you are reading this story, please pause and think.**
**How did you find this story?**
**What time is it now when you're seeing these words?**
**Check your phone.**
**Perhaps you have already received an invitation.**
**Welcome to Apartment 4271.**
