Zero Community

[You are about to enter Zero Community, a vast public space. Are you ready?]

Everything is being reorganized. In the eyes of the meteor, countless colored pixels gradually twist and deform, exchanging positions to conceal the fragments of the Hot Wind's memory, transforming into a new space.

The meteor said, "I'm ready. I'll do whatever you say."

In that instant, he officially stepped from the court jester's censorship agency into the internet of Shinto City. The land and sky of virtual space appeared, and buildings and public transportation systems were recoupled.

One by one, pedestrians with different expressions [rose up from the ground]--

--Why is it described as "rising from the ground"?

In the eyes of the meteor, these figures are formed by separating a portion of the soil, which then evolves into human bones, muscles, internal organs, fascia, skin, and hair, and finally, they are clothed from the inside out, and then run and move smoothly and naturally.

Information, information, countless pieces of information.

Everything came alive, transforming into a diverse and complex society.

This is the real Kanto City, bustling with people, with long queues forming in front of the Regent International Theatre, and a sightseeing tram slowly passing by on the city rail line further ahead.

Further afield, one can see the outskirts of Kanto City, with advertising billboards for "[Oriental Hollywood]" perched on the hillside.

Looking up, the sky was a clear, cloudless blue. Only the warm, glaring sun and a few striking contrails could be seen.

The sounds of discussion, arguing, laughter, and chasing filled the air.

The oil in the cooking food boils, and the bass roars from the audio equipment store.

A sweet recitation in a car advertisement, a missing person notice from the broadcasting station.

Meteor was almost overwhelmed by the surging, chaotic flow of information. He spun around in circles before he could see where he was. From the strange and wonderful pedestrians passing by, he saw different clothes that spanned thousands of years. When he looked at the road sign, he realized that he was in Ninety-Nine Mile Beach, Kanto City, in [Extreme Bliss Space].

[Get your focus back, Meteor Boy, don't forget why you're here.]

Meteor was very honest. "What am I doing here?"

[Looking for the dog! Looking for your Black Brother! And your Safe Brother!]

The meteor was stunned for a moment before finally coming to its senses.

"Oh, oh, oh! You're right!"

Even so, he still couldn't tear his gaze away.

--There's a talk show on the program schedule in the Grand Theater.

As Meteor listened to Hot Wind's instructions, it stopped in front of the small window of the talk show.

He dared not deal with these strange and unfamiliar souls, so he decided to start by examining their cultural repertoire to see what people in this era actually liked.

When he stood still in front of the window--

The host immediately stood up and went in front of the camera, as if it were a live broadcast.

"Young man! I have a story to tell you!"

Meteor was infected by the other party's enthusiastic expression, and he immediately forgot Hot Wind's warning, burying his head in the window.

The host described it vividly.

"Judging from your appearance, you seem to be a resentful and bitter young man! I need to tailor my approach to you and tell you a story about a banker!"

Meteor didn't quite understand the host's implied meaning.

--Could it be that the electronic signals in the body that correspond to Hot Wind caused the host to make a wrong judgment?

Resentment of the rich? Angry youth?

Meteor was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but he never believed that wealth was synonymous with evil, nor was he a cynical person.

The host started rambling on, talking about the things discussed in the [Rigoletto] quiz questions.

"What can save the unemployment rate? What can liberate the poor from perpetual poverty?"

"At this point, a small number of people might say—they should have children."

The host winked at Meteor, even though the guy looked like a scruffy, forty-something-year-old man—he was full of energy, and fearing Meteor might lose patience, he did everything he could to grab Meteor's attention.

"Children are durable consumer goods; raising them requires buying all sorts of things, which must cost a lot of money, right? Definitely more expensive than raising a dog!"

The host said with a hearty laugh.

"But why don't we keep dogs? After all, if you raise a dog, it will know how to repay kindness—but if you raise children, they will only complain about you."

A strange, sarcastic onomatopoeic word emerged.

The host pinched his throat and imitated a high-pitched female voice.

"Dad! Why does a sum of money come into our bank account every month?"

"Oh! My daughter! That's my salary."

"Oh! So that was my salary? I thought it was the cost of a meal, after all, the uncle next door treated me to dinner, and it cost this much for just one meal! He's a banker! He's a successful person!"

"What the hell! I'd rather have a dog—at least my dog wouldn't complain about dog food."

The host regained his composure, even becoming somewhat hysterical. He leaned over the camera, grinning at the shooting star.

"What is a loser, dear listeners?"

"What makes us losers? It seems there's no such word in society—there are no losers."

Does failing disqualify you from being a human being?

"Let's skip this heavy topic! Let's hear how to write a 'feel-good' story?"

The host forced a smile and winked at A Xing again.

"--To hell with economists, to hell with public opinion."

"We should carefully select the legal representatives and board members from the top 500 companies in Shinto City, and then invite these bankers to television programs."

You must have seen it!

The host pointed at A Xing's nose, his smile ambiguous and lewd.

"You must have seen Korean celebrities eating salads and fitness meals every day to build up every muscle in their bodies, making them look curvy and elegant."

"Select the few from these banks who have made the greatest contributions to humanity --"

"--Oh! I wasn't being sarcastic! I never meant anything sarcastically! I'm just straightforward!"

The host emphasized.

"Elites uphold human society! It is elites who save the poor! It is these most powerful and greatest talents of all mankind who bring happiness to humanity! This is what BANKER said!"

"So we need to select those who have made the greatest contributions to humanity! Any few will do! Five? Or ten?!"

"Have these people line up, put on nooses, and then face the camera, ready to be hanged."

The host pointed to the bottom left corner of the screen, emphasizing it.

"We can add a window here for purchasing value-added services! Every citizen can purchase this service, and if the number exceeds a certain threshold, execution will be carried out immediately."

"We need a good-looking, eloquent livestreamer to participate in the execution ceremony."

"They would shout: 'Family! This price today! Is it okay!? If not, I'll negotiate with the organizers again! Buy two Bankers, get one economist free! Three heads, buy two get one free!'"

The meteor's eyes widened, almost touching the screen.

"Now you don't have to worry about the economy!" the host said with a grin. "After all, so many people are willing to spend! This advertising effect is much better than Elon Musk farting on Twitter!"

"If hanging isn't exciting enough, how about bringing out the guillotine?"

The host's spittle almost splashed out the window.

"We'll also be releasing a 16:1 scale toy model, listeners! You'll definitely want to buy this souvenir! Imagine chopping off the BANKER's head yourself at home every day! How exhilarating would that be!"

No, no, no! No, no, no!

"There's one more thing! There's another very important ceremony!"

The host said this with an air of seriousness.

"After BANKER dies, no one will question you, no one will belittle you."

"Your boss will immediately turn into a docile girl, like an innocent high school student with no sexual experience. I'm afraid you might send him to the gallows one day."

"He won't talk to you about Artificial Intelligence anymore, and he won't make you feel vulnerable—"

"--After all, a banker's job is to make people feel vulnerable at all times."

"You always feel that your labor is cheap, or even meaningless."

"Hey! Man! Why am I working here?"

The host frowned and complained to the air.

"Why do I have to tighten these screws? I don't understand! I don't know what I'm doing!"

"Why do I have to process these reports? Why do I have to write these words? I've built over thirty engines, but what do they mean to me?"

"Why can machines do my job too? And they do it so much faster and better? Have I really become a failure? But society doesn't allow failure. Have I lost my right to be a human being?"

The atmosphere shifted abruptly, with the host flashing a bright smile and winking at A Xing once again.

"Bankers always say this—your labor is worthless, as if Artificial Intelligence grows out of the ground."

"We will waver, doubt our abilities, and worry about being replaced by something new and exciting. Eventually, we will become like Artificial Intelligence, half-dead machines."

"I"

[Gone! Shooting star!]

A Xing stared, mouth agape, almost stunned by this abstract form of entertainment.

Is he telling the truth?

[Of course it's fake—the bankers of Shinto City have long been overwhelmed by Artificial Intelligence. In finance, how can the human brain compare to an electronic brain?]

A Xing scratched his head vigorously. "Then why is there even such a show?"

[Because people like to read it, just like your martial arts novels.]

[An era that needs heroes is tragic, because where there is oppression, there is a need for resistance.]

[The era when American comic book heroes were abundant was also the period with the highest crime rates.]

[If one day we no longer need martial arts stories, it means society is thriving.]

[The stories you see in Little Kanto's "Extreme Bliss Space" actually illustrate that there was once a huge gap between the rich and the poor in our history. When Artificial Intelligence technology was just starting out, its ownership was in the hands of banks.]

[Conglomerates wielding enormous productive power have monopolized every industry—plunging people into perpetual poverty.]

[Thus, these short dramas became popular, and our daily entertainment consisted of purchasing these storytelling-style talk shows in virtual space to satisfy our inner fantasies. The show we just saw was actually written by Artificial Intelligence —there are many, many similar templates available.]

Meteor: "And then? Did this show become a reality?"

[Of course it came true! What do you think caused me to become a vicious criminal?]

The meteor fell silent.

--Hot Wind's few words seemed to contain a great deal of information.

The ghost living in his body may have been a great reformer in life.

His DNA blueprint is still considered a very precious resource by the gods of Shinto City. The soldiers of the violent organization are all clones of him.

However, this destructive power seems too great, too terrifying.

To dispel this terror, Hot Wind becomes the security center's number one enemy, and his wife becomes the top courtesan in the entertainment industry, a clone that anyone can have.

Once serious historical figures appear ridiculous, any negative feelings about them seem to vanish naturally.

[We have to go, Shooting Star.]

Meteor took a deep breath; he was still immersed in the information overload of the streets Ninety-Nine Mile Beach —like a colorblind person who has regained the ability to distinguish colors, it always takes some time to adapt.

This public space on the internet is far too crowded and too narrow.

People coming and going are constantly interacting, communicating and interacting through various forms of body language and physical behavior.

The advertisements for a wide variety of modules were dazzling, and Meteor was surprised to find that all sorts of modules representing basic functions and skills had become purchasable products.

For example, the module "[Electric Guitar Performance - Jimi Hendrix]".

Its ad slots loop with guitar masters' playing techniques, and the text and images explain that as long as VNEOM installs this module, users will gain corresponding music theory knowledge and playing skills. No need for years of study; with just a click, you can have a rock and roll life.

The numerous advertisements for modular products are like a rushing river or a vast ocean, almost drowning out the meteor.

But he felt himself trapped in absolute poverty and nothingness.

--It seems that having everything is the same as having nothing.

Let's go! Let's go!

The meteor finally realized. "Where to?"

I'm going to see an old friend to buy some weapons and gather intelligence.

Meteor: "Okay!"

[Go to the nearest phone booth.]

Meteor immediately ran to the nearest public phone booth. He couldn't understand why a scene from the last century would appear in this interconnected virtual space.

[This is a sense of security, and also part of ghost studies.]

Many outdated products give us a sense of warmth and hope.

We may feel nostalgic for the past, for an era that never existed. We didn't experience that era firsthand, but we can still appreciate its beauty through related works of art.

The telephone booth in Extreme Bliss Space served as a bridge to access the private spaces of other users. Because of its relatively private nature, its red paint, its railings, and all its design elements were preserved. Its unique place in art history makes it a landmark of Extreme Bliss Space.

Meteor pushed open the door of the phone booth.

[Including the street scenes you see, the sky and the earth, the sun and the mountains.]

[Just like your generation, there were many trendy music genres that were also very retro—like vaporwave and dreamcore.]

[These deliberately noisy Low-Fi audio files are all ghostly sounds. Unless you, a Gen, have some kind of Regret Pill power to undo your mistakes—why would you miss the 70s or the 80s?]

Meteor picked up the microphone. "Okay, Hot Wind, what should I do?"

[Visiting user number 808141.]

Following the dial, Meteor asked one more question.

"The Matrix, right?"

[That's right, The Matrix used phone booths for consciousness transfer, and Extreme Bliss Space promotes a human-centered lifestyle.]

[Whatever people need, Shinto People provides. If people believe that a phone booth should be a portal, then it should be designed ergonomically as a beacon.]

Meteor: "No one's answering the phone."

[Try again.]

Meteor then turned the dial, triggering the automatic call transfer service.

The [Jester] from the information review center greeted him warmly, "It seems this user doesn't want to interact with you. You're a newcomer—that's unusual."

Meteor: "What's so special about that?"

Jester: "Because new people are new fun for [Extreme Bliss Space]. No one will refuse new fun."

Meteor: "What if I absolutely have to visit?"

The jester said, "I'm afraid that won't work. Everyone should have a private space where they can heal their spirits and find peace."

[Hang up the phone.]

Meteor immediately followed Hot Wind's instructions and hung up the phone.

[I hate this sissy; he always likes to tease me with a sly grin—let's try a different approach.]

Place your right hand on the dial!

Meteor did it--

--In the [Extreme Bliss Space], everyone lives using their own spiritual energy body, or what is called the digital life consciousness physical body.

Meteor's right arm was already covered in Hot Wind. When his palm pressed against the phone, a dark mist could be seen beginning to erode the phone's dial and seep into the phone's interior through the receiver.

[I'm in. Try calling again.]

Meteor did as instructed, removing the earpiece and pressing the button.

--This time, the interviewed area was successfully connected; the Hot Wind force brute-forced its way through the lock.

After a brief period of noise, the entire world split open once more, and a thick black mist enveloped the entire space. When it dissipated, the meteor had already arrived in an unfamiliar place.

It was a cave, and piles of corpses lay on the open ground.

Meteor dared not speak; he could smell the strong rust and could hardly imagine what kind of demons or monsters lived in this place.

Hot Wind's old acquaintance is now hiding in this underground cave, tinkering with some kind of cutting-edge technology.

The corpses were piled up like mountains, and the bodies had not decomposed. They were like the strange corpses seen in the Haofeng Ridge Tunnel, frozen in the moment before their death, neither decaying nor rotting.

As it got closer, the meteor finally made out a small hut in the cave.

It was a stone building constructed against the rock face, with three floors.

Go knock on the door and call him.

Meteor hesitated for a moment. "What are you shouting for?"

[Old man from Stone Village! I, Hot Wind, am back!]

Meteor pounded on the door, shouting, "Old man from Stone Village! I, Hot Wind, am back!"

After a while, heavy and hurried footsteps were heard coming from inside the wooden door.

An elderly man with white hair and beard shakily opened a crack in the door and looked in surprise at Bu Liuxing outside.

[Don't hesitate, grab his hair.]

Meteor asked, "Really? Are you serious?"

Trust me, this guy won't behave unless he's beaten up.

The old man, whom the Hot Wind called "Old Man of Stone Village," cursed angrily.

"Where did this little brat come from! Playing tricks here! Did I give you permission to access my private space?! What nonsense were you spouting? You said you were Hot Wind?! Bah!--"

Before he could finish speaking, Meteor grabbed the old man's hair and punched him on the head.

The vicious punch, like a DDoS attack, slammed into the old man's head, causing a visible shockwave. Strings of code were knocked out of his skull—a truly surreal scene.

The old man's glasses flew far away. He tilted his head, and when he came to his senses, he spoke arrogantly again.

"So it really was Hot Wind! You should have hit me sooner! Why all this fuss?! How could I not behave?!"