My IQ has been increasing year by year.

The film, titled "Autumn in 2001," was shown on film until 5:30 p.m.

As the sun gradually set, the angle of the light slowly changed, and the upside-down world projected on the back wall of the classroom gradually became blurred, eventually melting into the dim twilight like a faded dream.

The bell rang, signaling the end of get out of class.

For the students in Class 1 of Grade 7, this afternoon was simply too dreamlike.

First, we experienced a class-wide "illegal construction" operation, and then we collectively enjoyed a movie session in the dark.

This excitement drained their energy.

So when the bell rang, everyone packed their bags much faster than usual.

"Brother Zhuo, I'm leaving now! See you tomorrow!"

Liu Fei slung his backpack over his shoulder and shouted at the first row.

He has now changed his way of addressing Brother Zhuo from the common "Brother Zhuo" to a heartfelt "Brother Zhuo".

"See you tomorrow."

Chen Zhuo didn't turn around, but simply raised his right hand, which was holding a ballpoint pen, and waved it.

Before Li Xiaoya and the other girls left, they left a pile of supplies on Chen Zhuo's table.

Two chocolates, a bag of fish snacks, and an unopened bottle of AD calcium milk.

"Go home early, don't study too late, you look exhausted."

Li Xiaoya gave a few words of advice like a mother hen before leaving with her pink backpack.

The noisy classroom quickly quieted down.

All that remained was the dark space completely sealed off by newspapers, and a faint lingering smell of snacks and ink in the air.

Chen Zhuo remained seated in that soft chair.

He finally turned the page in the book "Demidovich" in front of him, the page he had been pondering all afternoon.

He neatly wrote the last line of the equation in the lower right corner of the draft paper.

Q.E.D.

Chen Zhuo put down his pen and let out a long breath.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his slightly swollen temples.

The feeling was like having just finished a marathon; all the muscles in your body were trembling, but your brain was in a blank period after extreme excitement.

Sage Time

For the average junior high school boy, this kind of time usually occurs after playing a thrilling basketball game, finishing a wonderfully written novel, or accomplishing something indescribable.

But Chen Zhuo is different.

For Chen Zhuo, solving a highly difficult math problem is the highest level of mental climax.

Now, the climax has subsided.

A tremendous sense of emptiness washed over me like a tidal wave.

He didn't want to go home.

The only sounds in the house were the television, a possible phone call from Comrade Chen Jianguo from the factory, and the deep concern of the most respected Ms. Liu Xiuying.

He needs a place that is absolutely quiet, absolutely rational, and free from any human emotional interference to calm his brain, which is still spinning at high speed.

Chen Zhuo put his glasses back on.

He looked around the dimly lit classroom, his gaze passing through the windows covered with newspapers, and looking towards the old red brick building across the playground.

That's the laboratory building.

At this time, it should be a quiet world there.

Chen Zhuo pulled out a slightly worn key from the innermost compartment of his backpack.

That was given to him by Lao Zhou.

Tickets to the "Sanctuary".

......

The experimental building is the oldest building in the city's No. 1 Middle School.

Built in the early 1980s, the red brick exterior walls are covered with withered yellow ivy.

The motion-activated lights in the hallway often malfunction, and walking on the terrazzo floor creates an eerie, hollow echo that sends chills down your spine.

But Chen Zhuo liked this flavor.

The taste of science.

He skillfully made his way up to the second floor in the dark and stopped in front of the dark green door at the end of the corridor.

A sign with peeling paint was hanging on the door.

[Physical Preparation Room]

This is not a large laboratory for students to attend classes, but a place to store precision instruments, for teachers to prepare lessons, and for equipment maintenance.

That is, Lao Zhou's territory.

Chen Zhuo inserted the key into the lock and turned it gently.

The lock cylinder felt stiff to turn, indicating that the spare key hadn't been used in a long time.

The door opened.

A long-dormant cool breeze wafted over me.

Chen Zhuo didn't turn on the light, but gently closed the door, completely isolating himself from the outside world.

The sky outside the window had completely darkened, with only the distant streetlights casting dappled shadows on the ground through the gaps in the curtains.

Using the dim light, Chen Zhuo walked to a long table in the corner.

He put his backpack on the ground and gently pulled back the dust cover that was covering the instrument.

A bulky, grayish-white metal instrument came into view.

J2459 Student Oscilloscope.

In those days, this was the most expensive thing in many high school laboratories.

Although it is considered an old relic by professional research institutions, it is the only electronic toy that Chen Zhuo can currently access.

He reached out and touched the cold metal casing of the instrument.

The rough, grainy texture of the paint made him feel at ease.

"Click."

He pressed the red power switch.

No response.

Chen Zhuo was not in a hurry.

This machine uses a cathode ray tube, and it's like an old-fashioned diesel engine that needs to be preheated.

The filament inside needs to be heated red-hot, and the electron gun needs to accumulate energy before it can shoot out that magical stream of electrons.

Chen Zhuo pulled over a round chair and sat quietly in the darkness, waiting.

one second.

two seconds.

ten seconds.

In the center of the oscilloscope's circular screen, behind the glass, a tiny, extremely faint green dot suddenly appeared.

Immediately afterwards, the green spot began to focus and brighten.

Chen Zhuo reached out and gently rotated the brightness and focus knobs.

The blurry spot of light slowly shrank, eventually becoming a tiny dot as sharp as a needle tip, emitting a faint green glow.

It is so pure.

That green is not the green of plants, nor the green of pigments.

That's the light emitted when phosphorescent powder is bombarded by high-energy electrons.

It is the embodiment of electricity.

In the dark laboratory, the green light shone on Chen Zhuo's gold-rimmed glasses, giving his youthful face an eerie and cold technological feel.

If someone were to come in now, they would probably think Chen Zhuo was some kind of mad scientist.

wrong.

A miniature version of the mad scientist.

But Chen Zhuo was actually just playing around.

He picked up a wire from the shelf next to him and connected the Y input to the signal generator.

The game has begun.

Chen Zhuo did not conduct any of the experiments described in the physics textbook.

He doesn't need to measure voltage or observe waveforms.

He just wanted to draw.

Drawing with an electron beam.

His left hand rested on the X-axis gain knob, and his right hand rested on the frequency adjustment knob of the signal generator.

The principle of an oscilloscope is actually very simple:

An electron beam projects a dot onto the screen.

The X-axis controls the point's movement left and right, and the Y-axis controls its movement up and down.

If no signal is given, it is a stationary point.

If a scanning signal is given to the X-axis, it will be a horizontal line.

But what if we input two sine waves to the X-axis and Y-axis at the same time?

That would then become a Lissajous figure.

A very interesting digital graffiti.

Chen Zhuo first locked the X-axis scanning frequency at 50Hz, which is the frequency of mains power, the most stable, and the cheapest time reference.

Then, it begins to adjust the signal generator for the Y-axis.

With a gentle pinch of the fingers.

The green dot on the screen started jumping and spinning wildly, leaving behind dazzling streaks of light.

Due to the persistence of vision, those light trails intertwine into a tangled mess on the retina.

That was chaos.

It is disorder.

Chen Zhuo stared intently at the tangled mess.

He continued to fine-tune the frequency.

He was looking for that common frequency point.

55Hz...60Hz...75Hz...

The lines on the screen were still shaking violently, like a green ghost trapped in a cage, thrashing about.

Sudden.

The instant the frequency rotates to 100Hz.

That chaotic mess suddenly stopped in a fraction of a second.

All the lines instantly returned to their positions, coalescing on the screen into a perfect, closed figure-eight shape.

That's a stable graph that only appears when the X-axis and Y-axis frequencies reach an integer ratio of 1:2.

"pretty."

Chen Zhuo sighed softly in the darkness.

This is a million times more satisfying than drawing on draft paper.

The lines drawn on paper are lifeless; they are simply accumulations of graphite powder.

Here, however, these lines are alive.

They are the trajectories of countless electrons flying at speeds of thousands of kilometers per hour in a vacuum.

If Chen Zhuo's fingers tremble even slightly, or if the frequency drifts by even 0.1Hz, this perfect "8" will immediately collapse and turn back into a tangled mess.

Chen Zhuo was captivated by the feeling of forcibly maintaining a fragile order on the edge of extreme instability and chaos.

This is a sense of control.

This is God's perspective.

This gave him a sense of triumphant pleasure.

He continued playing.

150Hz.

The number "8" split into three interlocking circles, resembling a complex Chinese knot.

75Hz.

The graphic transformed into a distorted crown.

Chen Zhuo's fingers danced rapidly across the knobs, as if he were playing an invisible piano.

The green light on the screen shifted unpredictably with his fingertips.

Sometimes as smooth as silk, sometimes as sharp as lightning, and sometimes blooming into a complex geometric flower.

The entire laboratory was deathly silent.

The only sound was a faint "humming" from the oscilloscope transformer, the low murmur of 50Hz current.

In this dimly lit space, the nine-year-old child is immersed in his own unique, unknown video game.

He doesn't need Red Alert, he doesn't need Counter-Strike.

This beam of green light is his entire world now.

until.

A smell wafted into his nose. It was a mixture of cheap tobacco, stale tea stains, and the greasy smell of someone who hadn't bathed in a long time.

Chen Zhuo's fingers suddenly stopped.

The graphics on the screen instantly collapsed, turning back into a chaotic mess of green noise.

"The frequency is off."