People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

Of course not. Once the observer arrives, the stasis's defenses are so weak, it's doomed. The observer knows this. The observer might even know that the preserver knows He knows this.

But does it matter? This was the last defensive measure that humanity had created using its last resources.

He cannot defend against the observer, but he can make those who sleep within feel protected and shielded from the observer simply by remaining inside.

If the "treasure" were still around then, he would definitely have commented sharply, "At least you could have some peace of mind, right?" Unfortunately...

It can only be said that human wisdom is timeless.

"The door has opened."

He spoke calmly, his mechanical tone paired with his incredibly fluent Colombian-accented Victorian, like a cyber god from a heretical faith in the frontier.

"Come in, I know you have a lot of questions to ask."

Christensen was not polite at all. Seeing that her accusations had no effect and had not yielded the expected concession, she immediately put away her expression, strode into the stasis chamber, and glanced at the general layout of the room.

Countless cuboids, strangely shaped black equipment, a giant eyeball-shaped generator floating in the air—this seems to be the speaker's true form, and the dark red lights that illuminate the entire scene.

This was not a very suitable atmosphere for conversation; it was more like a refuge built at some point in time, crowded with people barely clinging to life.

Similar scenes are common in Colombian zombie films, which they call "science fiction movies".

As she tried to touch a stone coffin, only to be instantly overwhelmed by a chilling killing intent, Christen raised her hands in surrender and asked the most crucial question:

"who are you?"

"Trevor Friston, a ghost from an old era. You can call me by my codename—[The Preserver]."

Trevor Friston glanced at Ernst and found that he didn't react much.

"who are they?"

Christensen asked again.

"My compatriots, my relatives, my dearest friends."

Friston answered without the slightest hesitation.

Like the "treasure," he was a supporter of the "immutability" doctrine from the beginning. The "Preservator AI," named Trevor Friston, was entirely dominated by his uploaded consciousness. To this day, he has never wavered on the question of whether he is Trevor Friston himself!

"Are they the same race as you?"

Kristen looked slightly surprised. Not only him, but Holhaya and Ernst were also somewhat taken aback.

Holhaia's surprise was similar to Kristen's; she was astonished by the existence of the Preservator and the scene buried beneath Tremont.

Ernst's observation was even stranger. He was marveling at how bizarre the Führer's aesthetic sense was, given how strangely the awakened machine spirit was perceived. But if Trevor Friston was his father, then everything made sense.

His dad's look is indeed hard not to leave a deep impression.

As for the "pre-civilization" situation that surprised Christensen and Horhaya, Ernst wasn't so surprised.

He was fully prepared mentally. Unless he received another extermination order now, nothing would surprise him!

Why did Ernst's Old Victorian phrase suddenly catch your attention?

Christensen asked again.

Friston paused slightly before replying:

"To you, this may just be a casual remark or polite talk, but to me, it is a saying from an old friend that has transcended 33,000 years."

"I don't understand. This statement doesn't seem like some kind of code? Or is it that, as a machine, you actually have feelings?"

Christensen's eyes lit up, as if she had made an incredible discovery.

Terra is full of advanced technologies, such as robots capable of artificial intelligence dialogue. Rhodes Island has many of them, and Rhine Lab is also developing robots. Miss Mel, who has very little screen time, has a dedicated laboratory for the research and development of Meepo robots.

But being able to converse and get things done is different from having genuine feelings for someone. Human emotions are the most difficult thing to replicate because they involve the mysterious "realm of the soul."

If Ferdinand had been there, he would have considered Friston his beloved and asked him to allow him to build the "God Power Armor" from the walls of the Stasis Institute.

If Justin Bieber were there, he would probably develop the Institute of Stasis into an archaeological tourist attraction, inviting visitors to see a living fossil that is many times older than the oldest historical records.

Unfortunately, it was Christensen present. A machine with feelings, Christensen was almost impatient to disassemble Friston and see its structure. She was willing to try to replicate it at all costs.

Fortunately, Ernst is here.

He stopped Christensen, whose eyes were gleaming and who was about to make a provocative remark, nodded to Friston, and naturally took over the topic:

"I'm also curious why such an ordinary sentence would be the key to making you take action."

Was it this sentence that motivated me to take action?

Friston remained noncommittal.

Words carry weight, and that weight depends on the time, place, people, and context in which they are spoken.

When your girlfriend is leaning against your chest in bed and sweetly tells you, "You're not allowed to sleep tonight," your mind is probably already filled with romantic fantasies.

But if a general, marshal, or commander shouts "No rest tonight!" in front of the entire division on the parade ground, then you've probably already started rubbing your hands together, ready to unify the country!

Who truly moved him by saying those words?

Friston threw the question back at him again:

"Rather than that, I'm more curious about how you obtained this information about this adult male life form, who, if placed in modern Terra, would be called a [Filin] race?"

This time, Ernst did not shy away from the topic:

"It was revealed to me by the President of Colombia, Mark Max."

Ernst glanced at Kristen and Holheimer beside him, paused briefly, and then added:

He called me "treasure".

The wind stopped, and the preserver's gaze froze. For a moment, Ernst even felt that all the beings in the countless stone coffins he didn't know were dead or alive, all of them were turning their gazes toward him.

Why did they react so strongly, Qi?

Why did the preserver, who just moments ago seemed to know everything, suddenly fall silent like a mute?

Why do I feel like I said something wrong?

But this should fall under the category of controlled intelligence exchange, right? After all, Mark Max didn't mention this to me in a very serious tone. Instead, he quickly confirmed my identity after I answered this seemingly joking elementary school English conversation question.

This is actually quite strange, as Mark Max often speaks an "unknown language" that Ernst cannot understand when he talks about prehistoric civilizations. However, when he confirms the identity of the "treasure," he abandons the language that is probably the official language of the prehistoric civilization and chooses a language that is very similar to "Old Victorian," which is "English" in Ernst's memory.

This was actually quite illogical. Although Ernst noticed something strange, he didn't realize it because there was so much other information and he didn't have a specific clue.

So, why?

Ernst was about to ask the question when the semi-AI, bearing the name "Preserver," posed a meaningful question:

"Have you met Priscilla?"

"Who?"

"fine."

Ernst seemed to hear a sigh.

It's hard to tell how much relaxation, reassurance, and regret there was.

Chapter 635 Ernst, open your eyes, I am Precys.

Who is Priscilla?

Ernst was certain that this was the first time he had ever heard the name.

But from Trevor Friston’s unusually serious attitude, and his later response that summed up in a long sigh, Ernst could somewhat sense the unusual nature of the name Precys.

This reminded him of Kal'tsit's riddle, and the being in her riddle who could replace [Tower of Babel] with [Originium], and [youknowwho] with [Theresia].

Is Precyth her real name?

If that's the case, then why does Kal'tsit regard Originium as "the beginning of all tragedy," and why does Trevor Friston's first reaction when he utters the strange code name "treasure," which sounds more like an object than a person, is to ask if he has ever seen "Priss"?

And what exactly is the relationship between Precys and the Doctor, the only person Ernst clearly knows who is a crucial figure in the Arknights universe?

Ernst had many questions on his mind. And Friston seemed to have plenty of time to answer them.

But before that, he had to go through some procedures and confirm one thing. (3)

"I know you all have many questions in your hearts."

Trevor Friston seemed to be in a much better mood, so much so that his electronic voice softened, shedding the deathly indifference and ruthlessness of a tomb overseer and gaining a more fatherly, patient guidance and earnest instruction.

"However, before I can answer your questions, I need to give a complete self-introduction again."

Trevor Friston's voice regained its brilliance, transforming the entire hall of the Stasis Institute from an eerie and terrifying tomb illuminated by dark red lights into a sacred temple bathed in countless lights, leaving no shadows whatsoever.

This is what this place of stillness truly looks like.

“I am the simulated personality of the plan, and for tens of thousands of years I have been watching over this dark hall and the cold bodies of hundreds of thousands of my compatriots.”

"I was the last hope, a pessimistic attempt, a synonym for nihilism."

"But now, perhaps to you insignificant beings, I am a terrifying existence that is out of place with surface civilization, lurking underground with treacherous intentions, and the mastermind behind all the terrible conspiracies in Terra."

"Haha, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter what you think of me."

Trevor Friston's words carried an undisguised smirk, as if he were mocking the meaningless and baseless labels that might be hurled at him. It was also as if he were mocking himself, ridiculing his own past of achieving nothing and ending up with nothing for thirty-three thousand years.

Then, the biting sarcasm and bitter smiles all fell silent, leaving only a guardian of civilization in his twilight years, making a declaration to the new visitor that was true to himself and to civilization:

"I am the dying [Preserver]"

"Revere everything you see, for I am the very demise of civilization."

As his words fell, hundreds of thousands—not thousands, not tens of thousands, but hundreds of thousands of coffins—shone brightly under the light.

This is three thousand meters underground in Trimont. Apart from an old-fashioned elevator built here by the Kristen General Construction Department, there are no traces of modern industry in the entire underground ruins.

There was no Originium, no wires, no power source, and no energy storage device that the Terrans could understand.

The preserver, however, lit up a building large enough to accommodate hundreds of thousands of compatriots, illuminating it and leaving no trace of gloom.

If, as he claims, these stone coffins were tools used to preserve the bodies of his compatriots, then this preservation, this light, has been shining for "tens of thousands of years."

This is an astonishing energy reserve. Even with the most limited imagination and the most pessimistic view, the answer to how much energy is consumed here is astronomical.

Ernst understood Trevor Friston's intention in the next second.

He is using the simplest, most basic methods that even a child can understand to demonstrate the power of a civilization at a level of discontinuity.

This is the ancient civilization, even if it was their last pessimistic attempt before their demise, even if it was the cowardly act of self-proclaimed "nihilism," they were still giants compared to Terra.

People often say that a speck of dust in the era, when shaken off an ordinary person, can feel like a mountain.

Therefore, the prehistoric civilization itself is a synonym for the "era".

They were an era in themselves, and even the smallest remnants of their legacy would be enough to form a treasure mountain before the civilization of Terra.

Admittedly, it's a somewhat comical display of arrogance, the kind of line that would normally elicit a few sarcastic remarks from Ernst about how childish and ridiculous it sounds, like a strange, overly dramatic line about a three-bedroom apartment for sale.

But just like I said before.

The same sentence, spoken by different people, in different situations, and in different ways, can convey completely different meanings and evoke drastically different feelings.

"This is not an exaggeration. To people like you, I am almost omniscient." (4*3—5! 64)

Trevor Friston declared that he was happy to play the role of cyber god in this unexpected encounter.

"You can ask me any questions you have, and I will answer them in response. But everything comes at a price; the gifts of fate also come with a price to pay."

"I call this bargaining chip 'debate.' It's an ancient tactic. Rather than simply persuading with words, I need some more fundamental actions to verify your qualities and revise my plans."

He paused slightly, his enormous, floating pupils turning their gaze to the seemingly insignificant mortal before him.

“Especially you, the one named Ernst Shivaish.”

"To be honest, I don't care what you think of Terra. Even without any kind of contact, I can get the information I want just by observation and simple information technology. The birth, development, and survival of civilizations on this land are full of unexpected twists and turns. There may be someone behind it, but that person is clearly not qualified."

"They are not qualified to face destruction, nor are they qualified to wait for salvation, or even to survive—some might say that this is the inherent right of civilization—but in the face of an absolutely powerful enemy, I have to judge them from the most ruthless perspective: they are still not qualified."

"And the only person who can give them this status is you."

"Will you choose to stand on their side?"

Ernst paused, then subconsciously glanced at the two people beside him.

But both Christensen and Horhaya seemed to have fallen into some kind of mysterious state at this moment.

Their eyes were closed, their consciousness struggling in an endless ocean, searching for something called reason. And this island of reason was not the only one they sought; their knowledge, their resolve, their emotions—all could be used as weapons in this "debate"—a battle that was, in effect, a test of their very souls.

They can no longer hear the outside world's words.