Puzzle Madness

Chapter 147 Subspecies of Humanity (Part 2)
[The cataloger] stood on the edge of the rain shelter, his bright red NBC protective suit full of wrinkles; and in the wrinkles, rainwater was trapped, and in the shimmering light of the engineering lights and the bright red background of the clothes, the rainwater looked like it was burning.

DouDou wasn't too happy with the other person's outfit: she had seen "Ebola" before, and the virologists in it were fully armed like that; it wasn't anything new.

DouDou scratched his mouth, feeling somewhat disappointed. This look was far too ordinary; especially since everyone around him was dressed similarly, differing only slightly in color.
Fortunately, the mask on his face added some distinctive features to the cataloger:

Instead of the prominent filters on the gas masks worn by other researchers, there was only an outward-pointing palm; a bird-like beak was placed in the center of the face, and from the side it looked like Pinocchio's nose had undergone rhinoplasty and accidentally failed.

The hand in the center of the face has its four fingers together, but the index finger is sticking out:
[Do all catalogers wear this, or does it signify "Number One"? Then what about Number Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven? Uh, does he have a friend with something like a middle finger on their face?]

Before I could even finish pondering this somewhat ugly, but arguably unique, decoration:
[Help me/Help me/Help me]
Accompanied by another loud mental broadcast, more [spheres] sprang into action. They clung to each other's arms, their fingertips digging into their flesh, straightening their thighs, whether thick or thin, to support the cataloger's "shoes" and help him maintain his balance.

Their round bodies, paired with limbs of disproportionate length yet interlocking—these [spheres] reminded DouDou of chemical bond diagrams in school; only they were all the same color.

Through the rain and the light from the construction lights, one could barely make out the limbs of the [spheres]—they must have their own genders, races, and ages; some had exceptionally thick leg hair, while others had skin as loose as a tattered sack.

[Uh, so those metal balls really are a subspecies of humans: There can't just be this one round one, right? Maybe there are quite a few different types, like a product line.]

DouDou stopped in her tracks: If we walk any faster, the cataloger won't have time to finish "wearing" all the strange equipment.

He had initially thought that the spheres had grown hands and feet; now it seemed more likely that a person had deformed and shrunk, with the entire torso and head eventually being sealed inside these spheres.

Based on DouDou's biological knowledge, current technology is probably insufficient to modify humans to this extent so that they could continue to survive, let alone be so agile.

Therefore, the origin of these [spheres] must be even more special; just like how teeth grew on the back of one's head after watching that videotape:
The journal "Human Secrets" has nearly ten thousand issues; perhaps in each issue, the [Human Doctor] is "popularizing" different little secrets.
After watching, everyone may have different feelings?

Of course, it could also be some other strange obsession that would give people this unnatural effect: after all, [intermediate obsession] is a broad category; it was mentioned several times in the videos I saw in the video arcade.

The researchers stood up, lifted the long planks filled with tongues—the pages had axles on the edges, and several people worked together to fasten the clips together and secure them at the top and bottom; thus, they created a book of strange material and enormous size.

Not only was it enormous in size, but it also looked incredibly heavy; the cataloger and the other researchers held it carefully, but it still wobbled precariously.

Another new "telepathic" connection—words flowed into DouDou's mind like ripples on water:

[Emergency filing. Emergency filing/Battle plan/What was the plan again? /Support-page turn-open-whistle/Go go go go/I can do it/I can't die here].

This telepathic connection would circle in his mind every few seconds; this time, DouDou only noticed the words "[Battle Plan]".

He pouted, somewhat displeased.

"Hey, you really want to fight?"

Although these human subspecies crawl around and cooperate with each other, they do indeed look somewhat high-tech.
But the catalogers were still trembling, their telepathic messages filled with frustration and fear, almost to the point of incontinence; they had to keep encouraging themselves: why were they still so determined to fight this skirmish?
DouDou still remembers that afternoon at the provincial library, Sidney said that there were two groups of people monitoring DouDou: the monitoring group of Asia-Europe Post and a cataloger from the Human Cataloging Center.

They've all come here to secretly monitor DouDou, so they must know something about her—at least she's strong and thick-skinned, right?

Since you understand the level of danger, what's the point of a direct confrontation? Why are you acting as if you're on the verge of life and death, ready to fight to the death?

DouDou thought she was actually quite easy to talk to.

Oh—it seems a lot of people don't have a very good impression of me.

DouDou zipped up the zipper on her raincoat pocket. She'd only run a few steps when the rain eagerly rushed in.

He still remembers that at the end of each semester, a report card would be handed out, with comments from the teachers. The mischievous and playful students who loved to cause trouble and play pranks were described as "[the class's source of joy]"; those who always slept in class and didn't like to do their homework were described as having "a calm and mature personality"; and those well-behaved and academically excellent students were even more deserving of praise—reading the comments made it seem as if they were about to ascend to the heavens and become high-ranking officials.

The only thing that stood out in DouDou's evaluation section was that for several semesters in a row, there was only one word: "[Good]".
-
While DouDou was still savoring the moment, the researchers at the Human Cataloging Center moved on to the next phase:

The other researchers retreated, covering their heads as they went into the rain, while the cataloger spread out square metal [mouse traps]—
He was struggling to bend his body, his movements distorted, his back bent like a bow, while his waist was still arching backward to maintain his balance; it looked like his calves would break at any moment.

Pat pat pat:

The surrounding [sphere] subspecies, wading through the rain, piled up like arhats, climbing up to the cataloger's side; they linked arms in pairs, forming a triangular pyramid of flesh and metal, pressing against the cataloger's back to help him stabilize his movements.

These human subspecies are so intelligent, have they been trained? But what are they trying to do? Can they launch missiles from their tongues?

The sticky mouse trap is now wide open, allowing you to see the details clearly:
The gaps on the sticky mouse trap, each about five centimeters on each side, are not metal squares—they are mouths; only they lack upper and lower lips and teeth, and are separated only by a little skin. Inside the fleshy walls of the mouth, there is only a soft, limp tongue.

The spheres jostled and pushed, adjusting their direction according to the cataloger's arm, aiming their mouths at the pocket:

[Shout it out/Shout it out/Shout it out/Shout it out/Shout it out]——
Oh?! Could it be...?

DouDou squinted, focusing all her attention on the heavy [sticky mouse trap]: the dozens of tongues that were originally limp suddenly straightened up; some had thick coatings, and some were as red as blood.

No shouts or words were heard, but
In the blink of an eye—they all became blurry:

The tongue began to tremble and flap, instantly resembling the thin wings of a fly; it swayed incessantly and densely, dancing into a chaotic mass.

【Huh? Why is there no sound at all?】

DouDou, who was straining to hear the sounds of these mouths, suddenly realized:

Has the rain stopped?

This speculation arose because everything suddenly became quiet.

The air seemed to become a soft cushion, eliminating the kinetic energy of the raindrops: there was no longer any pattering sound of rain hitting the tin roof or the splashing sound of raindrops flowing into puddles.

DouDou stared wide-eyed at the raindrops that were falling right in front of her—watching them explode.

The raindrops burst apart in an instant, becoming tiny fragments, until they completely disappear from the scale that the naked eye can distinguish, never to be seen again.

In that instant, it seemed that even the concept of "rain" was erased by an invisible eraser.

DouDou only felt that from the hundred-meter-long path in front of her to the [sticky mouse trap] in the cataloger's hand: all the rainfall had been suddenly wiped away--
Instead, a pale, hazy fog filled the surroundings, bulging and surging. The walkway before us was no longer rainy, but instantly filled with fog.

vibration.

The raindrops falling from the sky seemed to shred into droplets with the vibration, turning into a misty fog and suspended water vapor; while the storm continued to blow and swirl—blowing the fog into a water screen that diffused into the air.

Those dozens of mouths with taut tongues didn't actually scream as DouDou had imagined; instead, they did:

Infrasound? Ultrasound? Directional sound beam? Frequency modulation mixing?
I can't tell, but it's a sonic weapon, right? I thought there would be some kind of tremor—like the camera shaking up and down.

(End of this chapter)