Puzzle Madness

Chapter 130 The Secrets of Humanity #9734
Humans do not die.

Humans are not born.

Humans do not dream.
-
[The Secrets of Mankind] Selected Collection Vol. 5 —
DouDou stomped her shoes twice:

The wetness underfoot wasn't blood—it must have been raindrops falling in from outside, because the observatory's vents hadn't been closed before the downpour.

In the corner sat several old microscopes and a model of the solar system, with the Earth and the Sun connected by a plastic rod; a yellowed, curled piece of paper with a "Do Not Touch" sign was affixed to it.

There wasn't even a chair behind the veneered reception desk; instead, a transparent glass sheet was used as a mat, with the duty roster and celestial chart clipped underneath.

The duty roster looked like a doctor's handwritten prescription, the handwriting a tangled mess; it was impossible to decipher. But from the dates, it was clear that no one had been on duty for a week.

It shouldn't be like this--
The Mong Cai Observatory is a well-known place, especially for students; not to mention it has valuable equipment like telescopes that require maintenance.

Shouldn't we check if they have any clues?

DouDou pinched his chin, deciding on the next direction of the investigation.

He started with the body with the most and thickest clothing: DouDou turned the deceased, who was wearing a leather jacket, over completely and began searching every pocket.

The other person's mouth was slightly open, and he looked very bewildered—although he had teeth on the back of his head, there were no scars on his face; his beard was grayish-white, and he looked to be the oldest among the dead.

"Huh, there really is one."

As he rummaged around in his pocket, he slowly pulled out a torn brown paper folder from his coat pocket.
The folder was stained with some dark blood. There was a conspicuous pattern in the center:
A hand with five fingers together, the palm holding an envelope; the lines are simple yet expressive.

DouDou recognized it at a glance:

"Hey, it's the logo of Asia-Europe Post."

This icon is frequently seen; whether it's at the post office in Mong Cai, on mail trucks driving on the road, or in television advertisements.

Richard might have indeed worked here before, after all, he was a field worker for Asia-Europe Post:
"So, these guys are all from Asia-Europe Post? They're all corporate agents?"

They weren't wearing suits, trench coats, or shirts; they were all dressed casually, perhaps with a sun-protective jacket, making them look like a tour group from overseas visiting Mong Cai.
-
DouDou opened the kraft paper folder:

It was very thin, with only a few pages; the top page was a report—the boxes in the table were filled in quite a bit; the handwriting was clear and neat.

Although some parts were covered by bloodstains, the rest of the text was still clearly visible.

DouDou looked at the weathered face of the deceased beside her, who must have come from the Middle East, and felt that she should practice her handwriting when she got back—her Chinese characters were not as good as a foreigner's; she felt a little ashamed.

Wow wow wow
As the torrential rain and intermittent flashes of lightning pierced the air outside the window, he softly recited:
"A firefight occurred in Mong Cai City with unidentified individuals. Deadly force was used in accordance with the Overseas Workers' Self-Defense Regulations, resulting in the deaths of five people and the temporary detention of one; their identities are pending verification."

DouDou frowned as she read aloud. The text was rather awkward to read, clearly intended as written material.
"Preliminary interrogation confirmed that the detained individual has a background with a network advancement organization. His identification indicates he is a current employee of the [Human Cataloging Center], but his specific job title is unknown, and the authenticity of his identity requires further verification."

"Oh? [Human Cataloging Center]?"

It's a name that I don't really recognize; it sounds pretty legitimate—at least more official than Europe Post.

I've heard of network advancements before; Richard Chuck even explained it to him before. I remember the mathematician was quite indignant at the time.

He rummaged through the nooks and crannies of his memory, shrugged, and continued reading:
"A videotape was seized from the detainee; it was confirmed that it was not transported via Asia-Europe Post Logistics. It is registered as Evidence No. 1."

"According to the detainee's description, [Evidence Number One] is a crucial item for network propulsion; the detainee refers to it as [part of the Sixth Matrix], possessing... huh?"

The most crucial piece was covered in a clump of blood, completely obscuring the words below.
-
DouDou stared wide-eyed, as if she wanted to pierce right through the bloodstains:
"Huh? This is too perfect, deliberately leaving a cliffhanger?" He resisted the urge to crumple the entire report into a ball and stomp on it a few times; he continued reading:

"Never mind, skip this part."

"Hmm, I suggest submitting a special item investigation application upon returning to the department, and retrieving the relevant files of [the Sixth Mother].

"Given the special circumstances on site, in accordance with Article 3 of the Temporary Handling Regulations for Special Packages, a local preliminary observation procedure is initiated; relevant experiments must be conducted in a controlled environment and fully recorded."

"Please see the appendix for the detainee's statement. Hey, where's the appendix? Where did the appendix go?"

I flipped through it—this was the last page, and there was no so-called [appendix] after it. I don't know if something happened to him before he wrote down his statement, or if it was stored somewhere else.

"Quite official, huh?"

He closed the folder again, stuffed it into his bag, and then scratched his head.

Based on his extensive experience with clicker games, the other corpses might also contain a jumble of diaries, letters, manuscripts, and tapes; recording all sorts of scattered information—
Perhaps only by reading it all carefully and piecing it together can we reconstruct the full picture of this bizarre death before our eyes.

Thinking of this—he looked at the remaining ten corpses, their heads still pressed against the ground, and waved his hands repeatedly:
"No way, no way, I'm not playing this; it's too much trouble. Ugh, I'll just flip through a few more. If there's nothing fun left, I'm leaving."

DouDou enjoys reading quite a bit—she's usually fine with it, and can read novels, comics, magazines, or newspapers all day without getting tired.

But on a wet and dark typhoon day, this is hardly a comfortable activity.
-
"So where is this... this [Evidence Number One]?"

DouDou roughly searched each corpse but found nothing resembling a videotape.

The report I just read mentioned what kind of experiment they were going to conduct.
DouDou walked along the wall of the observatory, circling around it once:
Near the corner, there was a narrow door slightly ajar; apart from the toilet, this was the only other door left.

The door frame is made of metal with peeling paint, and there is a faded "Warehouse Usage Instructions" sticker on the back of the door panel.

As DouDou stepped inside, a musty smell assaulted his nostrils; the white walls with green accents were covered in mold.

He casually closed the door, keeping the rumbling thunder and the corpses outside—he pressed the light switch twice, but there was no response.

This was supposed to be a warehouse, but all the clutter had been cleared out: a row of large black plastic bags, neatly stacked and sealed tightly with transparent tape, was pushed to the corner.

A large area was left empty in the very center; in the middle was an old-fashioned CRT television with a grayish screen.

Around the television, there were four tripods; they were arranged at four corners around the television and the player on top of it.

Four video recorders were neatly mounted on top, pointed at the television like gun barrels.

They were completely black, without a trace of light: the indicator lights on the DV were dim; it was unclear whether the battery was completely depleted or the device was not even turned on.

Compared to the rest of the warehouse, the area around the TV was clean, with a plastic sheet laid out underneath; it was neatly arranged, with silver tape at the corners.

On the player was a VHS videotape—DouDou walked over without hesitation, picked it up, and examined it closely.

There was no cardboard box or sleeve; the casing was slightly worn, with minor white edges from sanding. It was in better condition than the rental tapes in video stores.

Amidst the dried, blackened bloodstains were the yellowed, curled labels of the videotape; the edges were peeling up, showing signs of being torn by fingernails.

It was handwritten, somewhat crooked Chinese, the ink a light blue: whether it was blood or other bodily fluids that had stained it, it seemed to have deliberately avoided the label, leaving it still clearly legible.
The Secrets of Mankind #9734.

(End of this chapter)