SOTOPIA: Artificial Pseudo-God

The Krebs family's country house on the farm is perfect for a holiday—as a derivative function of daily living, this is undoubtedly a link with considerable room for expansion.

John Krebs has kept his second son's room.Although Steven had been away from home for a long time, the relatively spacious room had a lot of dust and looked a little old, but after a simple cleaning, it quickly returned to the appearance of more than ten years ago.Steven moved a fold-out bed that was probably new from the attic—it was for overnight guests.To his relief, the bed was firm enough and comfortable enough, at least Moskevich would not suffer from insomnia from being uncomfortable.

Steven was used to going to bed late, and so was his father.

When he heard the deliberate knock on the door, he glanced at the alarm clock on the table.The rhythm and strength of knocking on the door are also very familiar. It is his father who was a soldier.The bearing of the door of the room has been forgotten to be oiled for a while, and the speed must be controlled to suppress the sharp sound when it is opened.Steven carefully closed the door, and John stood at the door, shaking a bottle of Shiner beer in one hand, and a plate of well-roasted beef in the other.

"Wow." Seeing the long-lost father and son talking about the standard diet, Steven laughed. "Dad, fortunately I'm hungry again after the evening activities, otherwise I really can't cope with these foods."

John put on an exaggerated expression of disbelief: "Really? I remember that when you were a child, you had an amazing appetite. You often ran to the kitchen in the middle of the night to bake bread." He kicked his son's calf and let him take the plate of steak , put his free hand on Steven's shoulder, like a friend who talked about everything for many years. "Come on son, let's go to the rooftop. After all, you've grown taller than I was when I was young."

The farm in the middle of the night is not quiet.The disturbed air at night is not as hot and hot as during the day, and the rare breeze makes people feel comfortable.The leaves of the crops are rubbing against the stalks, but the small sounds cannot drown out the restless and excited insects - courtship or sex.Steven listened to the singing of arthropods that overshadowed the other, thinking that he didn't seem to have many opportunities to experience nature when he was in Iraq, but instead witnessed more of the dark side of the despair of human civilization.If Moskevich didn't have enough healthy work and rest habits like himself, maybe he would listen to the country songs he had never seen until dawn.

John also brought a dagger when he served the wine and steak.Steven knew his father's unrestrained habit when eating steak, but when he saw the body of the knife, he couldn't help but screamed in surprise: "Dad, you actually cut steak with □□?"

Probably John himself was in charge of the cooking, and the steak was slightly overcooked.John cut it into pieces, poked a piece straight into his mouth with the tip of his knife.After chewing it thoroughly, he said leisurely: "The knife is essentially a tool, don't forget its rich functions because of its various reputations." After thinking about it, he added: "What's more, this is just a cheap and easy-to-use imitation. "

Steven shrugged, and ate with a knife and fork in a regular manner.

The last time I talked to my father like this was nearly ten years ago.In the ten years since leaving college, Steven has indeed encountered many things.From joining the army, going to overseas battlefields, leaving the army, joining the FBI, and now a new life full of unknowns, he didn't know what to say for a while.

It was his father who first reassured him. "I won't ask you what you did in the FBI, let alone why you suddenly chose to resign." John said calmly.He was already drinking, and the aroma of hops was wafting from his glass. "We, the Krebs family, have always been—"

"—Self-reliance." Steven took the second half of the sentence automatically.

John smiled and nodded.He looked at the face of his son sitting opposite, and suddenly realized that he was old, and it seemed that Steven was still helping out at home when he was fifteen or sixteen years old. In the early 90s, Steven would happily take the initiative to clean up the stables for the game console his father bought for him and his elder brother, and he did not hide his temperament and thoughts.But now, Steven seems to have "self-interested" the altruism he once valued, carefully considering every step in his life, and in order to minimize the adverse effects on those around him, he does not hesitate to put all the secret disputes into the hands of others. Compressed into a poisonous thorn in my heart.

From this point of view, Steven and John are simply too similar.

John didn't press Steven for anything about FBI work—he hadn't even seen his own son at work.Of course, there is no such opportunity.Soon, their conversation turned from the prices in Los Angeles, the agricultural market in Texas, and Caroline's recent situation to Moskevich.

Steven didn't want to mention him too much, even if it was his own family.Fortunately, what John asked and mentioned happened to be the harmless and safe side.

"I can see that you like that young man."

Even though he knew that the "like" that his father said was only the definition of social interaction like a friend, Steven was stunned for a moment.He nodded and sighed: "But he is not good at communication, and sometimes he is too cautious. So I want him to go hunting together, at least I can tell him what the 'thrill of victory' is."

John acquiesced in his choice.He took a cigar out of the case and handed it to Steven, just like the scene from many years ago.Before Steven left the United States for Iraq, it was also on this rooftop that the father and son drank beer all night.In the thin morning light, John opened the tin cigar box he had treasured for many years in the same way, as if giving his son a shiny medal.

"Does he have no relatives?" John asked suddenly. "You can see it in his eyes."

"Yes." Steven knew how his father had extraordinary powers of observation.Even though he is nearly sixty years old, this old man still does not let go of every detail, and this kind of meticulousness is not affected by vision loss-Steven's own talent in this area is also inherited from him.

John looked up at the Texas sky.This is a picture he is very familiar with, and it is also the home of his heart all the time.Facing his son, he has no reservations except for his unknown concerns.Finally, the father stood up and said, "No matter what you've been through, or what you plan to do in the future, you don't have to tell me—it's always been like this."

Steven's heart tightened, as if he had returned to his restless but hesitant age.

And John had embraced him. "You are my child, but you don't have to live like me." Steven hugged his father back, and the blood of inheritance carries the temperature of life belief that spreads through family affection.

"We will always love you." These were the most emotional words the elder Krebs could say.

Steven smiled.He tightened his hugging arms and patted his father on the back, just as his father had done all those years ago. "Thank you, Dad," he replied softly.

The off-road jeep of the Krebs family drove into the hunting area along the country road.

It was John who was driving.Moskevich and Steven sat in the back row, busy confirming the hunting equipment.Moskevich needs to exercise his muscles and bones from time to time-he expected that the various fighting skills taught by Steven did make his muscles sore. Give it all. "The sound of the firearm is too loud, it is easy to startle the prey, and it may accidentally injure others, why don't you try to use a gun" - these are Steven's original words.So much so that the day before the hunt, Moskevich practiced shooting for several hours in the narrow and long barn against a temporary target.

Beyond that, of course, was the hunt itself that aroused his keen interest.

"You go in first. I see old friends, I have to go and say hello to them." John saw the cabin outside the woods from a distance, and there were already several men of his age with equipment gathered beside him.This is a private ranch running a deer hunting business, and it is normal for other guests to visit.Steven nodded, motioning for Moskevich to move the guys in the car down together.

"Trip wire - hunting clip - Winchester M1895 - oh, and your gun, equipped with a 2.5x scope." Steven counted the hunting equipment one by one, and methodically put them into use The tool is loaded on the body.Clothes and short boots for the sole purpose of action, and a pre-sharpened dagger inserted into the knife holster on the leg, the image of being fully armed is like a modern hunter.Moskevich, who was dressed similarly, followed behind him with great interest, and had involuntarily entered a state of mental concentration for hunting.Steven looked back to check his status from time to time, and reminded softly at the right time: "There may be old animal traps that have not been removed around here, pay attention to your feet."

Fortunately, the behavior of the "new hunter" Moskevich was cautious enough, and Steven seemed overly worried.The young man walked forward slowly with his gun on his back, half-arched, and from time to time he used his gloves to push away the weeds and low bushes and branches in front of him, so as to prevent him from stepping on those old traps due to his obscured vision.The short boots stepped on the piled grass blades very lightly, except for the sound of clothes scratching the branches and the birdsong overhead, there was almost no other sound.

"Like a real hunter" - this sentence suddenly came to mind, Moskevich moved cautiously, his senses seemed to have been fully developed, and his keen consciousness stretched out invisible tentacles around him.Steven has taught him a lot.For example, analyzing the whereabouts of animals, setting trip wires and bait, looking for ambush points, and holding your breath waiting for the moment when the prey takes the bait.In all fairness, this pleasure actually comes from a subtle inversion of stance: when I become a hunter, the pain of encountering misfortunes due to relatively passive situations in different fields in the past seems to be relieved.In other words, the result of the hunt is not important, the process itself has brought him enough pleasure.This, he thought, might be why Steven took the initiative to take him back to Texas.

In order to avoid alarming the sensitive prey, Steven and Moskevich agreed on the gestures for communication in advance.At this moment, they were separated by a distance of several meters: Steven walked ahead, exploring deeper into the forest, judging the rules of their appearance and appearance based on the traces left by the animals; Moskevich was responsible for supplementing these judgments, And thus set simple and efficient traps.

— between the trees.Yes, put the tripwire a little higher.

Steven made gestures and directed Moskevich's operation from a distance. The "novice" was unexpectedly proficient in his movements and did not need much help, which made Steven feel relieved.

After finishing the work at hand, Moskevich did not seek Steven's advice and guidance step by step, but followed his almost wild instinct and quietly moved to another "sniper point" corresponding to Steven .

It is indeed an ideal ambush position - Steven, who is always observing the other party, said silently.The threats posed by the old traps have been ruled out, and it is possible to fully observe the situation of the deer passing by. It has a relative height advantage and vegetation barrier, and it happens to be in the dead corner of the animals.The fly in the ointment is probably that the distance is a bit far, and there may be a large shooting error.

However, the control of the body, which is almost derived from body memory or genetic inheritance, allows Moskevich to control this error well.The purposeful wait is long and uninteresting, but this lengthy preparation is often the perfect foreshadowing of a bountiful harvest.When the prey appeared, Moskevich hardly hesitated, what appeared in his mind was not a chaotic and disorderly processing sequence, but a three-dimensional picture of the scene - the one caught by the tripwire was already in his pocket, and the one caught by the tripwire was already in his pocket. The rest of the mule deer, who were startled, were about to start running.

Moskevich didn't hesitate because there were too many prey, but aimed at one of them quickly. □□The added sight was combined with his excellent dynamic vision, and a certain amount of falling space was reserved before the arrow was fired. He stuck his head against the roots of the tree.

Across the bushes, Moskevich, who stood up holding a gun, met Steven's admiring eyes, showing a proud smile like a real hunter.