Chapter 1390
Doomsday Wonderland Chapter 1390: Further Division
Chapter 1390: Further Division
The small commotion caused by the Anonymous Thoughts Zone led the farmers to truly start their fieldwork only at around five a.m.
Even though they had entered this game less than 24 hours ago, every farmer had quickly adapted to this new form of life. The moment they opened their eyes was the moment for labor; otherwise, every minute wasted could potentially lead to future starvation.
Thinking about the days when they didn’t have to work for over a dozen hours yet still had food to eat seemed so distant and unrealistic now.
“Sis, think about it.” Ji Shanqing’s voice still echoed in Lin Sanjiu’s mind as she bowed her head to continue tilling the soil. “If we must keep him alive, then my plan can’t be implemented.”
She didn’t expect the grand prize’s reason for giving up on Han Suiping would be the same as the thoughts in the Anonymous Thoughts Zone: they simply couldn’t sustain so many people. When she argued that they could always divide the three food b.a.l.l.s fairly, the grand prize sighed.
“Sis.” He was already showing signs of exhaustion before entering the game. After more than a day of intensive farming, his complexion was almost transparent, bearing some resemblance to the ghostly Yuan Xiangxi. “If we only give him three food b.a.l.l.s per day, we indeed can afford it. But the problem is, by doing so, we are essentially solidifying the rules of this game.”
“I don’t understand,” Lin Sanjiu whispered.
“The way to pa.s.s this game is to find the exit. Our search throughout the day yesterday has proved that the exit is not simply hidden in some corner. Thus, we need to focus more on finding the exit.”
At this point, Ji Shanqing looked around, saw the others busy with their work or resting, lowered his voice, and said, “But where have we spent most of our energy? We spent it on calculating output, taxes, who eats more and who eats less. As our intake decreases and our consumption increases, our energy will diminish. The less energy we have, the more we can only think about tomorrow’s food. In other words, this current situation has been meticulously designed to make us only think about the present.”
Even though only a day had pa.s.sed, Lin Sanjiu could feel it, too. To maintain the basic survival needs, she had exhausted herself thinking only about how many food b.a.l.l.s they needed to produce that day to ensure that everyone would not die the next day. Even the day after tomorrow seemed too exhausting for her to think about.
“We can only struggle on the line of survival every day. Naturally, we don’t have any energy to do what we should do.” Ji Shanqing shook his head. “Even one more food ball would move us away from the survival line, reducing our struggle time… Only by doing this can we do what’s truly important, which is finding the exit. If we can’t get out, Han Suiping will eventually die from not working, just wasting our food for nothing.”
He was right, but Lin Sanjiu couldn’t calm down.
“So, we have to sacrifice Han Suiping?” she retorted. “Exchange his life for our survival?”
Ji Shanqing knew she would not want to give up any companion’s life, so he proposed a solution.
“I can a.n.a.lyze his data.” Judging from the expression of the grand prize, he seemed to have difficulty understanding the emotional impact of these words on humans. “I will keep his data. After we get out, I will code him somewhere else. For him, it’s just the difference between one second and the next. He won’t feel anything.”
What about the original Han Suiping?
“He would die in this room.”
Then, would the Han Suiping coded outside this room still be himself?
Yes, Lin Sanjiu understood. The “self” coded by the grand prize, with cells, fibers, thoughts, and memories identical to the original sample. This was different from cloning; if, at the time of data a.n.a.lysis, the original sample thought, “I want to go out to eat tonight,” and then died, when this set of data was written into an ent.i.ty again, he would think “that restaurant seems to have closed.” For him, there would be no pause in between.
But even so, would the original Han Suiping, who struggled, laughed, sweated, and cried with her in the modern world, have died?
“Letting him die is the first step,” Ji Shanqing said. “My plan can only be implemented based on this.”
Lin Sanjiu silently worked for half an hour until another new thought appeared in the Anonymous Thoughts Zone, and she temporarily put down this question without an answer.
A line of words hung brightly on the wall. “What happens to someone’s duties when they die?”
Everyone looked at the text on the wall for a while, their eyes gliding across each other seemingly unintentionally. Compared with the direct malice towards Han Suiping, this thought was more like a question about the game rules. But it made the atmosphere among them increasingly strange as if everyone wished they could be further away from others.
“I never thought about it,” Nu Yue said, shrugging. “When a person dies, the stuff in their backpack doesn’t die with them, so someone else must be able to take it over.”
She had broken her hoe earlier but hadn’t found Louisa for repairs. Conveniently, Nu Yue’s farm was already sprouting seedlings, entering a phase where a hoe was not needed for now. Louisa didn’t ask why she didn’t approach her for help; they rarely even made eye contact. On occasions when Louisa did whisper a few words to someone, it was often Horst or Jian Sheng.
“We won’t know until someone dies,” Lin Sanjiu said, hoping to divert their attention from the wall. “There’s no need to think about this now.”
The text on the wall changed as if in response to the previous thought.
“It depends on who dies. If it’s a non-farmer, their duties can easily be divided among everyone else. Like Louisa, whose job only takes a few minutes; she’s idle all day. Letting one person hold two jobs wouldn’t make much of a difference.”
Louisa’s face turned red. Her eyes, filled with anger, immediately fixed on Nu Yue.
Nu Yue looked back at her coldly. “Those weren’t my thoughts.”
There was buzzing in Lin Sanjiu’s ears. Seeing Louisa about to speak, she rasped, “Don’t start a quarrel over nothing. Everyone, continue with your work. Nu Yue, farm. Louisa, search for the exit.”
“We’ve all looked,” Jian Sheng said, standing beside Louisa. “There’s no place in this room that can be opened. It’s a waste of effort to search again.”
“Then you guys can take a break,” Lin Sanjiu said, shutting him up. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to his complaints.
The last anonymous thoughts were hers.
It was not a clear and definitive thought that had been in her mind for a long time. One of many chaotic thoughts, that idea swept through her heart so quickly that even she wasn’t aware of its existence—until the Anonymous Thoughts Zone displayed it.
Anyone who faced this kind of game would inevitably have similar thoughts. Though she understood this, she still felt uneasy.
She closed her eyes and took a low breath.
Not far away, Jian Sheng quietly comforted Louisa, saying, “We’ve all proven our contributions. You don’t need to take it to heart.”
“If it wasn’t for us non-farmers,” Louisa said indignantly, “who would search the entire room?”
A rift had appeared between the farmers and the non-farmers.
“So, what’s your next plan for searching?” Horst, who newly joined like them, was relatively easier to talk to.
Jian Sheng and Louisa couldn’t help but turn their heads to look at the other end of the room—consequently, everyone else also s.h.i.+fted their gaze there.
“Inspector,” Louisa called out, “What do you think is best for us to do next?”
The morning was so chaotic that Lin Sanjiu almost didn’t notice Silvan’s complete silence. Coincidentally, Silvan, who had been completely obscured, happened to come into view just as Louisa asked the question. He seemed to have just woken up.
His backpack and blanket were rolled up and propped against the corner of the wall. He was half-leaning against them, and his eyes still looked sleepy under his disheveled golden hair. “What?”
Jian Sheng hurriedly repeated his question, the slight from yesterday seeming forgotten. “Sorry we woke you up, but we all want to know what you think.”
Lin Sanjiu guessed Silvan didn’t have an opinion. He hadn’t moved since last evening, nor did he continue searching for the exit; he had been comfortably resting until now. With this thought, she instinctively glanced at the Anonymous Thoughts Zone.
She thought that she would see complaints about Silvan. After all, one could argue he was freeloading the food b.a.l.l.s like Han Suiping. However, there was not a single protest in the thought zone.
“Let me think about it,” Silvan said, curling up his knees.
“Okay,” Jian Sheng said. “When you need to replenish food b.a.l.l.s, just let me know. I’ll go collect taxes, and then I can also bring you some food.”
The wall was still empty.
Lin Sanjiu and Silvan had a close relations.h.i.+p, so she understood him, but everyone else’s reaction was peculiar. Silvan still didn’t say or do anything in the time it took the farmers to harvest two more food b.a.l.l.s, yet no one complained.
Meanwhile, Nu Yue had to seek out Louisa to fix her farm tools. With Lin Sanjiu’s endless persuasion, Louisa, albeit with a stern face, reluctantly charged only two food b.a.l.l.s. Thus, Nu Yue’s two hours of work that morning were practically done for free.
When Jian Sheng stood up to collect taxes, Horst hesitantly spoke up.
“Can everyone pay for their own share?” he said, scratching his face and avoiding eye contact. “If you want to help Han Suiping, that’s fine; you can give him your own food b.a.l.l.s. But it’s unfair to force me to give mine away too when they’re so hard to come by.”
He paused and added, “The phrase on the wall makes sense. It’s survival of the fittest, isn’t it? If someone’s unable to adapt to the situation and survive, it shouldn’t be everyone else’s burden to unconditionally support them. If one day I’m eliminated by natural selection, I won’t blame you guys.”
Han Suiping stirred slightly. When Lin Sanjiu looked at him, she found his eyes open.