It was a long passage, and ten meters from the entrance, there was the sound of the door closing behind Dr. Ender, and the passage, which had no light, suddenly fell into deeper darkness. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 Info Dr. Ander only wondered if his nerves were becoming weak, and the mere sound of the door closing made his heart explode. He subconsciously turned his head, and knew very well that he was definitely not so loud in his usual life. Looking back on my previous experience, although it can be called thrilling, it is not surprising that there are many places where I have been mentally prepared, but I am still disturbed by the things I notice, whether there is a sound or no sound, whether it is a concrete outline, or it is vague, as if I am inevitably frightened no matter how those things are presented.

Dr. Ender had an ominous thought in his mind, that what had happened to him in his research had been too ordinary, but in this hospital, it often pointed to a not-so-good situation. He stopped himself from thinking in this direction, because he realized that from the beginning, as long as he started to think, he would inevitably fall in a negative direction, but it would take more effort to keep himself from thinking than to force himself to think.

Dr. Ander felt that his body was heating up, but he didn't seem to be sweating, just a kind of heat that seemed to overflow from his body, directly drying the sweat glands. However, the current climate is just in winter, and there is no warm equipment in the passage, and this kind of heat is a bit strange if it is not affected by psychological emotions...... No, can't think about it anymore. He said to himself, returning his attention to the passage.

The beam of the flashlight is like being filtered by darkness, constantly spreading, constantly dimming, the outline of the first twenty meters is faintly visible, there seems to be nothing surprising, Dr. Ander also rationally thinks that this is just a normal channel, but the terrible thing that seems to be as unrestrained as an imagination is constantly changing its form in the mind, if there is any specific image, of course there is none, but it is precisely because there is no specific image that it makes people feel particularly terrifying.

All this is my own imagination, it is the excessive delusion and emotional fear, which suppresses reason for a while, but I still have reason, and I don't believe in these mysterious things at all. Dr. Ander kept saying this to himself, he felt like he was saying it to himself in his head, but the next moment, he heard a muttering sound, much like his own voice, but he didn't think it was coming from his own mouth. He quickly redirected the flashlight and scanned it around, but couldn't find any other sounds.

"It's ...... My voice? He couldn't help but make a voice to compare it with the voice he heard, but the voice he made didn't seem like his own. He never imagined that his voice would be so creepy. It wasn't a normal volume, and the syllables seemed meaningless, like some kind of animal chewing.

Instead, Dr. Ender was furrowed by his own voice, and he immediately stopped, but the muttering, the snoring, the chewing, the muffled, did not cease there, but penetrated into his brain more and more obviously. He shook his head, but he couldn't get the sounds out of his head. He deliberately quickened his pace, no longer paying attention to the details of the walls on both sides, but his attention was so focused that he had to see them clearly, even if he didn't want to see them clearly—Dr. Ander wasn't sure what he was seeing, it was a very normal cement bare wall, but the faint lines of the curve were extraordinarily full of a strange attraction.

This attraction is like looking at a famous painting in an abstract sense, and it is this feeling that an ordinary person may not be able to tell what he sees in the painting, but he can be sure of what he has realized. For Dr. Ender, these cement lines are like releasing some kind of invisible band, and his consciousness is very unfortunate to suddenly meet this band, and then it seems to be able to comprehend something from it—it is not a good thing, it is like a magnet, which connects his cognition that he has never thought of associating, and what will not be related to his usual worldview, outlook on life, and methodology. I was surprised that there was such a connection between these cognitions, but to tell what kind of connection it was, I thought that I would have to write at least a book of tens of millions of dollars, and I had the feeling that "to describe it in words, I can only explain the surface of this connection".

When this cognition, which would never normally be connected, was connected through such a fortuitous experience, Dr. Ender felt an indescribable horror. The horror brought to him by his previous experience is simply not worth mentioning compared to the horror that he has connected through what he has seen and thought at this time.

For a moment, Dr. Ender wondered if he was crazy. However, if you analyze yourself with psychology, you can come to a conclusion that you are still very rational. I can also recognize common sense, and there is no destruction of logic, it is like I have suddenly awakened to a new logic, so as to recognize a truth about the world. It's like in the era when geocentrism was prevalent, and suddenly there was such a person who realized that the earth was by no means the center of the universe - such a terrifying experience that even drove many scholars at the time crazy.

Dr. Ender analyzed his own fear, drew an analogy to it, and came to this conclusion. However, even in his own opinion, this conclusion is full of absurd and ridiculous feelings: he actually found a new logic from the cement pattern of a passage, and penetrated a world truth that the world has not yet recognized?

However, no matter how ridiculous it was, his heart still couldn't help but beat faintly, wanting to believe that this was the truth. If this is true, then he will leave a strong mark in the history of mankind, and it seems that it is not a big deal compared to being attacked by the ignorant world. Because I'm going to die.

"Ah, am I going to die?" Dr. Ender suddenly realized what he was thinking. He reorganized his thoughts, reaffirmed that he had come here in search of life, why did he suddenly confirm that he was going to die? Isn't it the most ridiculous and irrational idea to come to a ridiculous conclusion that you are going to die? Is your logic really still working in earnest? He couldn't help but wonder about it.

A series of self-questions, he didn't pay attention to how long he had been walking, in this dark passage, nothing strange attacked, but the darkness seemed to swallow his heart. When Dr. Ander came back to his senses, he was already sweating profusely, and the strange and familiar feeling of heat could not stop the cold fear that appeared in his heart. He patted his cheek hard, told himself loudly that he was not afraid of anything, told himself that what he had thought of before was delusion, nonsense, nonsense, and told himself not to think about it. However, the sound he uttered echoed through the passage, becoming more and more strange in his ears.

Dr. Ender felt like he was going crazy. He didn't think he was crazy yet, but if he continued like this, he would go crazy. It never occurred to him that the mad patients and the Takakawa clones were not the enemies who harmed him, and that the lurkers in the shadows did not attack him, but that his own thoughts, his own thoughts, the proud brains of humans, and his most confident and resilient hearts began to torment him.

Dr. Ender gasped, his cheeks already swollen and swollen, as if only pain could distract him and interrupt his thoughts, and he desperately needed a way to stop thinking about things like "the truth revealed by the muddy waterlines." When he came back to his senses again, he didn't know when, his body had been scratched and bruised, as if he had been attacked by some monster. There was a pain in his fingertips, and he held back and pointed the light of the flashlight on his hand, only to see that the flesh and blood on his fingertips were blurred, and the nails were almost completely removed.

Dr. Ander could no longer hold back, and let out a cry of fear and pain. A terrible truth shook what he admired most about himself: a person who would never destroy himself actually killed himself without realizing it. What happened to me? Dr. Ender thought of the worst-case outcome, but he could not believe, or rather did not want to believe, that he could find a hundred reasons to convince himself, but each one of them was fragile in front of his bloody fingers.

Am I infected? Am I a doomsday syndrome? The thought finally came to Dr. Ender's mind clearly from the chaos. Then he shouted: It must be wrong! It must have been a misunderstanding! My mind is still clear, my logic is clear, my knowledge is still working, and I can still work as I used to!

However, this terrible conclusion was like a haunting ghost, haunting and gnawing at him, and he seemed to hear an evil and muddy laugh from an infinite distance. It's like God, no, the devil, is laughing at himself.

Dr. Ender was a little depressed, he never thought he could be so vulnerable, he still wanted to be strong, to remove the lowest, the most hypocritical, the most unacceptable part from his soul. Dr. Ender leaned against the wall, feeling the cold touch of the cement, and he felt that he should not be like this, even if there was such a delusion, such an unreal sense of terror that was eroding him, he should not have fallen so easily: however, the truth was that he felt that his legs and feet had become weak, and that the heat of his body had risen.

It's a cold, yes, it must be a cold. Because of illness, it causes mental vulnerability. This physical and psychological connection is my strength. Dr. Ender used this reason to convince himself that he felt better, that he was an expert in this area, and that he even used his expertise to lead the "Human Completion Project". Now the physical and psychological weakness is just a verification of one's own correctness, and the theory in this area is no longer a profound theory.

Thinking like this, Dr. Ender's legs and feet could no longer support him, and he leaned against the concrete wall, slowly sliding down the passage, and sat limp as if he were sitting. Just take a break, take a break. He said to himself, but he couldn't hear what he was talking about. In the time he could think, a thought became clearer and clearer despite his refusal: even if it was the doomsday syndrome, the "virus" was at work, it would not lose his life anytime soon. The onset of the disease is gradual and takes time, as long as the serum is produced within this time.

However, the ensuing sense of terror reminded him: could it really be so smooth to produce serum?

Dr. Ander clung to his head and couldn't help but growl, at this time, pain and weakness could not stop the voice from appearing in his head. He just wants to think about it, he can't help but think about it, he just can't get around what he thinks is the most tragic ending, as if a tragic end specially tailored for him, the most painful end for him, is waiting in front of him. There is such an indescribable thing, which is in itself nothing, examines itself in that void of nothingness, and writes down its fate, and its own struggles are nothing compared to its existence.

Up to this point, Dr. Ender was still sure that he was definitely not a fateist, nor a believer in God, nor had he ever despised the insignificance of human beings from above, that he had never been defeated by his own weakness, and that he had countless theories to prove that this nameless thing was a paradox, that it did not exist, that it was truly meaningless. But the more this happened, the more painful it became, and he couldn't understand what was going on in his heart, what kind of power was tormenting him.

He can deny everything that makes him feel painful, but only the pain itself, this heartfelt, frightening emotion, cannot be denied.

Then, it suddenly dawned on him that "man" does not exist as a mere individual. What makes up "people" is the ongoing collaboration between countless independent and subtle things. The so-called "man" is not a material life, but the appearance of this diversity and cooperation, which is essentially a chain reaction between movement and movement. Physiologically, "man" is a surface contour composed of strange structures, mechanical transmissions and chemical reactions that are tightly bound like gears. Therefore, human cognition is definitely not an independent and self-contained thing, but a block divided in some way by a huge whole, which does not simply belong to the block itself, but essentially belongs to that huge whole. The limitation of human cognition is precisely because it is only a "block", and no matter how large it becomes, it is still only the difference between a huge "block" and a small "block".