don't open your eyes [unlimited]

It seems that the problem of patients' resistance was not considered. There were no barriers inside the building, and no other people walking around could be seen.

Zhuang Die went all the way into the building, dragging a man dressed as a comatose doctor into a spare room that didn't seem to be commonly used.

He spent a little extra time and simply searched the opponent's body.

"It's a very sloppy projection of consciousness... Only a white coat can be taken off."

Zhuang Di withdrew his hands and got up, felt in the pocket of the white coat: "The pocket of the white coat is also empty."

Not only that, but he also discovered long ago that there are no redundant projections of human figures here.

These people dressed as doctors will only appear when necessary and complete the corresponding tasks as required.The faces of these people are all common, and there is never a single face repeated, as if everyone is just used once and then discarded at will.

"...It's almost like this." Zhuang Die found an unopened medical mask in the spare room, unpacked it and put it on, "This hospital—or this dream, is not like a human dream at all. .”

The captain once told him about a similar situation.

If it is the human subconscious, no matter how focused and rigorously trained professionals are, there is no guarantee that they will not be [-]% distracted, and will not waste a little consciousness fluctuation to pay attention to and think about some unnecessary content.

This is determined by the structure of the brain itself, because human beings have never been specially made as tools.

If this is not shown and there is an unusually high level of focus and immersion, consider other issues such as the autism spectrum.

This situation is especially evident in dreams—in simple terms, if this is a normal human dream, then these human-shaped projections will more or less show the dreamer, or the people the dreamer has seen traits.

"When eating the left half of the second hawthorn of candied haws, the captain told me about this."

Zhuang Die found a trolley: "Humanoid projection may not necessarily be regular, but it must have its own characteristics."

With the prolongation of staying here, part of his long-term memory seems to have been disturbed to varying degrees, and he can only use this method to search again.

Fortunately, the clues about Ling Su are still very clear, and Zhuang Die quickly found the information he needed: "There are several types... people with deep memories in their growth experiences, people with clear symbolic meaning and representativeness, recently A person who made a strong impression when I saw it.”

Zhuang Die stopped and thought for a while in this way: "If I had a dream, the face in the dream might be the captain, the captain and the captain..."

He was frightened by his own imagination and quickly shook his head: "It's still enough to have only one captain."

Zhuang Di went around the spare room a few times, arranged the items he had seen, found the corresponding medicines and medical equipment, and put them on the trolley one by one.

Looking through the memories related to the captain made him feel very good, and his mood was a little better than before. He temporarily gave up the idea of ​​carrying the upgraded hell lava baseball bat and going out to power a few projections.

"It is difficult for the human brain to imagine a face that has never been seen before. Even if you dream of a very strange person and think that you have never seen it, it is mostly a passerby or an advertisement picture that you have unconsciously glimpsed."

Zhuang Die glanced at the man lying on the ground, whose face was gradually blurring.

There were faint figures outside the window of the spare room, and the patients who had finished their meal returned to the ward one after another. It seemed that the meal time was finally over.

Although there were no white coats to guide and restrain them, the vast majority of people still walked back along a fixed route as usual.It even looks very consistent and regular.

Even if there are a few "patients" who don't know where they are going because of lax consciousness and confusion, they will be driven by other people and walk on the path that "should be taken".

Zhuang Die hid his body behind the curtain, looked out silently, and put down the raised curtain with one foot.

The human-shaped projection has faded to only a silhouette.

In front of him, the shadow seemed to be being erased line by line. Every second, several parts and features disappeared out of thin air, and finally even the outline was completely erased.

Zhuang Die squatted down and groped for a while, but there was no strange touch, only a cloud of air remained there.

It can be determined that this change is not from being visible to being transparent, but it is indeed completely disappearing in this space.

"One-time generation, the data set is very limited, no additional interaction is involved, and it will be cleaned up directly when it is used up."

Zhuang Die thought about it: "This kind of situation is more like something else..."

He vaguely had some thoughts, pulled up his mask, stood up, and left the spare room with the trolley that was tidied up.

……

On the surface, the building looks almost identical to the real Center for the Study of Mental Illness.

Zhuang Die walked in the empty corridor, beside him, people who were also pushing carts and dressed as doctors hurried past.

"That's right...it's indeed time for medication."

Zhuang Die pushed his own identical trolley and easily blended into the crowd without arousing any suspicion.

While speeding up his pace a little, making himself look like he was in a hurry to check a patient in a certain ward, he muttered silently under the cover of a mask: "Breakfast, medication, individual treatment, ventilation, group treatment, rest..."

...there is nothing surprising about the whole process.

The strange thing is that Zhuang Die has not yet figured out where he learned about this process.

Although the layout of the building is the same as that of the Mental Illness Research Center, the treatment process is obviously quite different—everything here is more brutal and direct.The medical staff of different functions and hospital staff were all dressed up as doctors in white coats, and the "medicine" on the trolley did not have any clear classification and identification.

This kind of tagged induction that erases all details can save computing requirements to the greatest extent, reduce the generation of redundant data garbage, and make everything run more efficiently and smoothly.

"There are three possibilities."

Zhuang Die quickly sorted out his thoughts: "First, the captain and I have stayed here longer than we thought, at least we have gone through the entire 24-hour process."

"The second type, in those memory boxes where I was locked, I have seen the daily schedule."

Zhuang Di lowered his eyes and tapped the handrail of the trolley lightly with his fingers: "I memorized it in time and transformed it into a long-term memory, so I escaped the blockade... This can also explain why I know the medicine and medical treatment in the trolley. The order in which the equipment is placed."

This movement caused another sharp tingling pain, Zhuang Die stopped, raised his hand and studied it back and forth twice.

When he moved his fingers, he could still feel the burning pain, as if there was still an electric current dormant under the skin.But from the surface, there is no abnormality, not even a little red mark.

Zhuang Die took a closer look at the trolley, and suddenly realized the problem: "The side of the armrest is metal."

He looked at his hands, took out a pair of latex gloves from the trolley, put them on, and when he gripped the armrest again, he felt much better.

"The third possibility."

Zhuang Die didn't care much, and he didn't care about it after solving the problem, and continued to push the car forward: "I've been here..."

He wasn't completely unaware that he had forgotten part of the past.

In other words, a more accurate description than "forgotten" should be the same as the treatment this time-temporarily hiding that part of the memory, and then using some reasonable illusions to cover it up, making it difficult for him to take the initiative to give birth to the past. Suspect.

Zhuang Die walked forward quickly, seemingly inadvertently sweeping through each ward and treatment room, while distractedly considering the probabilities of these possibilities.

He must find the captain as soon as possible, and at the same time, he must solve the mystery of memory, otherwise this endless fragmentation and jumping will repeat...

In the next second, his thoughts suddenly turned blank.

Zhuang Die held the armrest in his palm.

His body didn't even respond in a coordinated manner. Although his eyes were still nailed to the previous door, his feet had carried himself and the trolley forward for a while before he finally remembered to stop.

Zhuang Die frowned.After carefully confirming his level of sanity, he counted a hundred sheep before turning back and approaching the door step by step.

It was a treatment room.

The room seemed to have been bombarded with spiritual power, all the instruments were crushed to pieces, and even the door had been crooked and half fell off, so it was so easy for anyone passing by to have a glimpse of the situation inside. no more.

For a moment, Zhuang Die did see many urgently busy medical staff.

Those people were busy around a rescue bed.

The instrument farther away survived the disaster, and it was constantly beating dazzling red numbers and emitting a rapid alarm sound, prompting the continuous decline of the vital signs of the rescued.

I don't know how long it took, maybe as long as dozens of hours, or maybe just a second, a certain instrument suddenly made a long "beep--" sound.

All those pictures disappeared without a trace, and the mess in the house seemed to have never appeared.

Zhuang Die stood at the door, looking inside the room.

The person lying on the rescue bed only had the most basic life support system left. His chest rose and fell regularly under the support of the ventilator, but he no longer gave any response to the outside world.

Zhuang Die walked over with light steps.

He is very familiar with this face, but not so familiar - the captain in his memory has not such short hair, and his eyebrows are not so sharp. He is a few years older than the figure on the rescue bed, and he can always make everything safe. Don't have any worries.

Zhuang Die couldn't help stretching out his hand, and when he was about to touch the shadow, he was suddenly pulled back by the arm behind him.

Those hands firmly covered his eyes, wrapping him in his arms.

The chest guarding behind him didn't have the usual temperature and strength, but it still seemed to have never changed.Ling Su carried him out of that space, still covering Zhuang Die's eyes with one hand.

"It's okay, little curly."

Ling Su said softly, "We don't look at these."

He led Zhuang Die out of the room, supported Zhuang Die's body to turn him around, and met those eyes: "Look at me, you will soon forget..."

"Captain." Zhuang Die held his hand, "You have to tell me what's going on."

Teacher Xiaozhuang seldom used this kind of tone to him. He was as serious as if he was facing the most disobedient and mischievous classmate, and even the little curly hair on his head became angular.

Ling Su was startled unconsciously.

He subconsciously cleared his throat, trying his best to give a reasonable explanation, but he still couldn't resist the feeling of weakness and dizziness after a while.Before he could sort out his thoughts, his body sank with exhaustion.

Zhuang Die hugged him tightly, knelt on the ground, and dragged him into his arms.

"It's not easy to explain...Little Curly, this matter involves game theory, hidden Markov model, entropy increase and decrease, quantum entanglement, and causal inversion."

Ling Su twitched the corner of his mouth, anyone could see that his condition was not much better than that of himself who was a few years younger on the rescue bed.

But Ling Su still decided to muster up his courage and reasonably seize the precious opportunity without "cocoon" supervision and retaliation.

"I and...the me in there are in sync."

Ling Su gestured to the inside. He tried his best to hold Zhuang Die's arm, but found that he was unable to control those trembling fingers.

This feeling is very complicated, he is indeed very rational and sober, but he can't resist this kind of cognitive interference that he has produced on himself-life seems to be passing away clearly, and his consciousness is gradually returning to chaos and fuzzy. At a certain moment, he I even wondered if I saw a revolving lantern.

It's just that these messy things are not important... just like the unfathomable professional terms he made out so that the little curly hair is not so nervous, and does not hold him tightly and tremble.

"Don't worry, it will be fine in a while."

In the gradually darkened field of vision, Ling Su's voice was so low that it seemed that there was only air current: "Little Curly."

Zhuang Die's temperature immediately surrounded him firmly.

The machine inside the door has taken over the rescue process and is doing cardiopulmonary resuscitation for the shadow who is a few years younger.

Before being dragged into the suffocating icy darkness, Ling Su seized the time and gave Zhuang Die a completely wrong science education in a low voice: "Artificial respiration is just a kiss, just a kiss."