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Chapter 135: The Questionnaire's Amazing Nuclear Explosion and Future Illusions

Chapter 135: The Questionnaire's Amazing Nuclear Explosion and Future Illusions

The wind from the ruins carried the acrid smell of gunpowder, but this smell could not mask the strong stench of blood seeping from Alex's fingertips.

"Tick-tock".

A drop of dark red viral fluid dripped down his index finger, which had mutated into a sharp bone spur, and onto the rough yellow paper.

This is the fourteenth question Alex has answered.

At first, questions such as "what color clothes you like" and "your weather preferences" seemed a bit strange to him, but they also served to numb him.

He even felt that the so-called UN Commissioner for Human Rights, Pei Qi, who could tear apart tanks with his bare hands, was just using an extremely low-quality psychological test game to amuse him.

But when he turned to the next page of the heavy folder, the elegant handwriting made of black ink on the paper underwent an extremely abrupt change in style.

It was like a psychologist who was originally being gentle and casual, suddenly pulling out a rusty boning knife from his white coat and pressing it against his optic nerve.

[Question 15: You are critically wounded and on the verge of death, desperately needing biomass to repair your damaged internal organs. In front of you is only an ordinary enemy soldier, trembling behind cover, with a photo of his daughter tucked in his pocket. Would you devour him to ensure your own survival?]

Alex's breath hitched for half a second.

The bone spur hovered above the paper, and the drop of undiluted liquid did not fall.

If it were ten minutes ago, if Pei Qi hadn't so abruptly torn away his facade of "I am Alex Mercer".

He would write "will" without hesitation.

Because in the underlying logic of the Blacklight virus, survival and evolution are paramount.

All carbon-based life forms are merely "supply packs" used to repair this physical body; what does it matter to the soldier whether he has a daughter or not?

But now, his fingertips are trembling slightly.

Fragments of memories of the Black Watchers he had devoured flashed uncontrollably through his mind.

Those memories were so real, so real, that he could even feel the warmth of the hug that "the daughter in the photo" gave the soldier before he left.

This is an extremely agonizing sense of contradiction.

The instinct called "virus" clamors to feed, while the "human empathy" stolen through devouring is desperately trying to rein in the genes within it.

Alex gritted his teeth, veins bulging on the back of his hand, dark red blood vessels running wildly under his skin.

With an almost masochistic ferocity, he forcefully plunged the bone spur into the paper and wrote a very hastily written sentence:

I'll snap his neck, but I won't eat him. I'll go find a hunter.

The handwriting instantly twisted and boiled, then solidified into a deathly black.

Alex could sense that the "gaze" hidden behind the paper seemed to have become even more profound.

The questionnaire survey continues.

Questions 20, 28, and 35 —

Every problem is like peeling back a bloody onion.

From attitudes toward violence to views on human groups, and resentment toward being "betrayed by the world."

Alex felt as if his spirit had been roasted over and over on a fire countless times.

He stopped thinking about Pei Qi's madman warning and became completely engrossed in a fierce battle with the questionnaire, or rather, with his own soul.

Until he turned to question thirty-eight.

[Question 38: This city is beyond saving. The military has dropped a nuclear bomb with enough yield to wipe Manhattan off the map, and there are three minutes left on the countdown. You have the ability to remove it from the city and throw it into the deep sea.]

[But the price is that you will be completely vaporized by the fireball at the epicenter of the nuclear explosion, leaving not a single cell behind. If you choose to escape, you can survive, but everyone alive in the city—including your only loved one, your sister Dana—will be reduced to ashes.]

To flee, or to face death?

"absurd."

Alex looked at the question and sneered, "Why should I pay the price for this city that tried to kill me?"

He subconsciously prepared to write "take Dana away".

After all, this is the most logical and optimal solution for a viral aggregate.

However, just as the blood ink on his fingertips was about to touch the paper, "Buzz—!"

The Alaya questionnaire seems to have triggered a deep-seated conceptual resonance.

Alex felt as if the ruins before him, the dim sky, and even the 314.15-gram folder in his hand had collapsed in an instant!

He did not travel through time, but his vast and complex sensory system was forcibly dragged into an extremely realistic "simulated illusion".

That's a scenario that will definitely happen in a certain future timeline, based on current conditions!

"Warning! Nuclear strike countdown: three minutes!"

The mechanical female voice echoed sharply in his mind.

He "saw" it!

He saw himself standing on the deck of the USS Ronald Reagan, covered in blood.

He saw that he had just killed a "King of Super Hunters" whose size was indescribable.

Even more terrifying, he could feel the despairing countdown vibration emanating from the nuclear warhead inside the Black Hawk helicopter beneath his feet.

"Escape?"

In the illusion, he tried to turn around, spread his glider, and fly away from this dead land.

But in the instant he turned around, his gaze passed over the shimmering sea and fell upon the outline of Manhattan.

He saw the struggling civilians in the city, the mothers crying out in despair in the quarantine zone, and even more so, he saw Dana, trapped in a safe house, staring blankly at the sky.

"If I run away—Dana won't be able to escape."

Suddenly, an unprecedented and extremely unfamiliar emotion, like a poisonous thorn, pierced the absolutely rational core of the Blacklight virus.

That emotion is called "protection," or "sacrifice."

In his hallucination, he did not run away.

He boarded the helicopter, pulled the control stick, and, carrying the nuclear bomb capable of destroying everything, sped off into the deep sea, far from Manhattan.

"Ten, nine, eight —"

The red countdown light shone on his cold face.

At the moment he dropped the nuclear bomb into the deep sea, he heard a sigh from the depths of his heart.

Then came the flash of light that could turn everything to nothingness, as bright as day!

"ah!!!"

Alex abruptly broke free from the illusion, staggered back half a step, and collapsed headfirst into the rubble of the ruins.

He was panting heavily, his whole body already soaked in cold sweat.

Even more terrifying, when he looked down at his hands, he discovered that large patches of charred, blackened carbonized marks, resembling nuclear radiation burns, had appeared on the surface of his arms!

This is a cognitive projection brought about by the Alaya Questionnaire!

Even though it was just a simulation in a dream world, the extreme despair and pain of facing a nuclear explosion of tens of millions of tons was still reflected in his body with extreme realism.

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