SOTOPIA: Artificial Pseudo-God

Krebs Farm is far from downtown Lubbock.After all, it is located in Texas. Compared with the bustling cities on the coastline, both the urban landscape and the cultural customs here make no secret of its unique rough temperament.

Steven, as always, is the only one among the three who can drive. The self-driving journey of more than [-] kilometers seems exaggerated, but after a section of splitting, it becomes a flow of countless short-distance one-way trips pieced together. .Moskevich and Caroline sat in the back row, and their luggage was piled up in the passenger seat and the trunk.The beagle named Lehman lay quietly in Caroline's lap, his lemon yellow ears drooping, asleep.

Their itinerary is indeed like a road movie at the end of the last century, very casual: choose the driving time according to your ability, and start looking for a motel along the road when you feel a little tired.Because there are minors traveling with them, their choices are naturally quite cautious.When he saw the street sign pointing to Steven's hometown from a distance, Moskevich found that Caroline was no stranger to it.

"Caroline, have you been here before?" he asked softly.

Caroline had just slept in the car for a few hours, and she looked very refreshed at this time, making Steven a little worried about whether she would be able to sleep peacefully at night. "Yes, Steven brought me here before. But it was winter and it looked different."

Compared with cities that downplay climate differences within a year, the countryside naturally has four distinct seasons, so it often evokes people's emotions about time and nature.Coupled with the rising hometown complex accompanied by country songs, this kind of emotion will further rise to the agitation of the old man looking back on the past.Moskevich quietly looked at the landscape outside the country road - he felt a rare peace of mind, and naturally thought that Steven and Caroline would have a similar realization.

that's the truth.

It was late afternoon when they arrived at Krebs Farm, and they could smell the aroma of Texas steak even outside the house.

From the Krebs and his wife, it was not difficult for Moskevich to see the qualities that Steven had inherited from his parents.Unlike other traditional Texans in the Lone Star State, they are even reserved, but not overly cautious.They are also physically strong and courageous, and the tenacity, straightforwardness and excitement of the western cowboys are still revealed in their words and deeds, as well as their rough and bold life style.Steven's father, John Krebs, and his wife, Margaret, welcomed Moskevich, the "son's friend", and Caroline was treated like a Krebs child As if, he couldn't wait to take her to his side and dress her up as a heroic "little cowboy".

Among the paintings and photographs hanging on the walls of the Krebs home, Moskevich naturally saw Steven when he was younger.Straw wide-brimmed hat, old-fashioned boots with spurs, and a brown horse in his hand, just like a Western movie poster.

"Before my father joined the army, he followed my grandfather as a hunter for a period of time. I still learned a lot of combat skills from him." Steven walked to him and said.When he returned to his hometown, his voice was light and brisk, as if he had forgotten all kinds of trivial matters, and he could not see any psychological burden. "My brother still often goes hunting nearby with his friends. But he's been away with his wife lately - he wants to see the market somewhere else."

In the courtyard not far away, Caroline and Mrs. Krebs had already teased the puppy.The Krebs run the farm with their eldest son, Steven's brother.In addition to the cotton planting that has already entered the stage of mechanization, there are also some livestock breeding, including horses and high-quality dogs.

Moskevich looked at the guns hanging on the red brick fireplace, and thought to himself that this might not be a Texas-style decoration, but a genuine hunting tool.Even with the antlers on both sides, it is likely to be the spoils of old Krebs. "You seem to have said you were going to teach me practical fighting skills?" he asked.

Steven was surprised by Moskevich's initiative, but he didn't resist.On the contrary, he was even a little inexplicably happy.

Noticing Steven's expression that seemed to be holding back a smile, Moskevich frowned and asked, "What are you laughing at? Is it because my attitude changed too quickly?"

Steven sniffled, patted Moskevich on the shoulder, and replied, "No, I'm just a little curious. In fact, your physical fitness is good, and it doesn't look like you have been imprisoned for a long time."

"As part of building performance, the researchers would create an indoor physical exercise program. But at the time, I was relying on instinct, not skill."

"It's already very good. The explosive power and guts are impressive, but it's a pity that he lacks experience." Steven commented.He looked at his father who was washing the car with a bright electric light and a water hose outside the house. Krebs, who was nearly sixty years old, had gray hair, but his long-term rural life kept him in good shape and full of energy.Steven turned his gaze to the barn not far away.After emptying the contents, it should be empty and quiet.

Steven gestured to Moskevich and said, "Would you like some post-dinner exercise?"

Moskevich's eyes widened: "Now?"

Steven actually pulled out of his pocket a small, crudely crafted wooden knife that had been sitting on a display stand in the living room a few minutes earlier.Moskevich speculated that it might be Steven's childhood masterpiece.Steven encouraged: "It's just a little easy-to-understand basic teaching, and you won't even feel muscle soreness."

— At least on this issue, Steven cannot be trusted.

Moskevich made this judgment secretly, but followed him into the barn.

The farm at night was already buzzing with insects.There were a few dogs barking among them, and it wasn't difficult to hear that there were some dogs belonging to Lehman, and there were also large dogs other than Lehman.The dry air has the smell of grass and earth, soaking people in a unique situation.Moskevich thinks that even if he is ridiculed as "short-sighted" (although in a sense this is indeed true), he must admit that he particularly likes this thick atmosphere that seems to be supported.

There is also a layer of wheat straw scattered on the floor of the barn, which is soft but not erratic when spread on the wooden boards; haystacks are placed in the corners, and everything is similar to that before Steven left his hometown.

Steven handed Moskevich the wooden dagger in his hand.The surface of the dagger was polished quite smooth, although the texture was hard, it was not sharp.Even if it is hit, at most it will produce some dull pain.

"Come on." Steven walked to a distance of about three meters from him, bowed slightly, and bent his arms in front of him in a state of ease, taking a ready posture for close-range tactical combat. "Just follow your instinct. You can start anytime without warning."

Moskevich weighed the weight of the dagger, and chose the backhand grip.He imitated Steven's posture, lowered the center of gravity of his body, and put away his sharp eyes like a leopard watching its prey.

Without warning, Moskevich rushed towards Steven with a dagger in his hand.The distance between them was not long, and it was almost an instant from preparation to close combat.Moskevich's left hand holding the dagger behind his back quickly approached Steven, just a punch away from his chest.Steven, who had almost engraved this technique into his life, retreated half a step reflexively, and quickly avoided Moskevich's top-down thrust.

After the first frontal attack was easily avoided, Moskevich did not lose his footing due to anger.Almost at the same time, his right fist had already met him, and after Steven dodged to the side, he quickly counterattacked, trying to hit Steven's head with his bent right elbow.

And victory or defeat is often in an instant.

Some unequal short confrontations once again "educated" Moskevich: experience does not always mean self-righteous empiricism-sometimes, experience is the foreshadowing of advantages and even victory.

Before Moskevich's elbow was delivered, Steven had already started to move: he dodged to the back right of Moskevich - which was the opening that the opponent could not defend.Moreover, Moskevich, who has not undergone systematic training, is temporarily unable to mobilize enough strength in this forced attack switch, and it is inevitable that someone directly grabs the right upper arm to block the attack.Immediately afterwards, Steven clasped Moskevich's right arm behind him, and took less than half a second to decide not to allow himself to use an anti-knuckle or something.He nimbly grabbed the moment when the opponent's center of gravity switched, tripped him, and took advantage of the opportunity to twist Moskevich's left wrist.

Steven quickly let go of Moskevich.The other party rubbed his left wrist and showed a helpless smile: "Well, I really need training."

"Perhaps thanks to your genes and acquired training, your aptitude is good. Don't forget that you still have the ability to learn that you are proud of." Steven comforted.He took back the dagger, staring at it with some affection. "The day after tomorrow, I'm going to go hunting with my father, so you can go too. I can't teach you how to use a gun for the time being, but other weapons are still possible."

"Such as traps and bows and arrows?" Moskevich found a wooden pillar in the barn to lean against. The sweat on his face was partly due to the high temperature in the summer night, and partly due to the action just now. "I have to admit, I'm very interested in these."

"You see, in addition to reading and thinking, this kind of physical activity can also arouse your thirst for knowledge." Steven turned the knife in his hand like an acrobat throwing a ball-of course, the visual effect Far less eye-catching than them. "Until then, I can teach you more."

Moskevich laughed.He stood up straight again, ready to face the real "easy and harmless" informal fighting class: "Don't show mercy, I am a 'dangerous person' who threatened you on the bed with a knife."