Malfunctioning Utopia

Chapter 62: The Search

“F***...” Sun Jack fell backward and rolled around in frustration. His heart, which had just calmed, was now in chaos after hearing what Tapai said.

“But...but...no, that’s not right!” Sun Jack sat up abruptly, grabbed Tapai, and prepared to piece together the cause and effect of everything that had happened.

“Look, I’m a person from the year 2025, right? I’ve been floating in space for over a thousand years, right?” Sun Jack listed one point after another.

“There’s a lot I can’t guarantee, but one thing I can say for sure—there was absolutely no memory-altering machine in my era!”

But Tapai shook his head again. “If your memory really was tampered with, then the fact that you think you’re from a thousand years ago could itself be a fabrication. That line of reasoning doesn’t hold.”

“I’m not from that era? I’m not a 21st-century person?”

Sun Jack’s head was spinning. He dug his hands into his hair, scratching furiously as his thoughts became more jumbled. Finally, he slammed his hands down and shouted at Tapai, “What the h***! Whose side are you on? Stop messing with my head!”

Tapai shrugged. “The reason I’m shooting down your flimsy self-reassurances is to help you.”

“I know accepting that your memories might all be fake is tough. But if this is the truth, you’ll have to face it.”

“If...if...I’m not Sun Jack, then who am I?” Sun Jack muttered, as if asking both Tapai and himself.

His entire sense of self—his awareness, his thoughts, even his current reflections—all stemmed from his memories. If those memory anchors could be fake, then what about his identity as Sun Jack? Were the thoughts in his head truly his own?

Could all his past choices, even his current way of thinking, have been engineered by someone editing his memories to produce these results?

It wasn’t until this issue struck him personally that Sun Jack fully understood its terror. When a person’s individuality is blurred, it’s hard to distinguish between what’s real and what’s not.

“There is some evidence, though. Your muscle memory, which surpasses human limits, and that unfamiliar name, Hilda, should be fragments of your original memories,” Tapai finally contributed something helpful after pouring cold water on him earlier.

Muscle memory? Hilda? Sun Jack felt even more conflicted. He’d thought these were remnants of the five years of memories he’d lost, but now there was another explanation.

If this was true, it meant that beneath his fake memories lay a deeper layer of real ones, with Hilda being a trace that surfaced from that hidden layer.

“But one thing I don’t get—if someone altered your memories, what’s their motive?”

“You’re asking me? Who am I supposed to ask? If I knew, I wouldn’t be stressing over it!”

At that moment, a knock came at the door. A system interface popped up in front of Sun Jack, displaying the camera feed of the visitor—it was Four Ai.

“I’m not feeling well. Come back another time,” Sun Jack, irritated and on edge, refused the visit and locked the door through his system.

However, as Four Ai smiled faintly in the surveillance feed, the locked door suddenly unlocked itself.

“What the h***! You still haven’t relinquished access permissions? Are you serious? This is my home!” Sun Jack was beyond exasperated at this blatant disregard for boundaries.

“What do you mean your home? It’s still my love nest, remember?”

“Revoke your permissions!” Sun Jack connected to Four Ai’s system, and only when he saw her manually cancel the access did he finally let it go.

Too frustrated to deal with Four Ai, Sun Jack slumped back onto the sofa, trying to figure out his next move.

Four Ai, sensing his mood, sat quietly beside him, not pestering him further.

Out of nowhere, Sun Jack reached over, took her e-cigarette, and took a puff. The slight tingling sensation in his lungs calmed his restless heart.

“Did I...smoke before? Or did I pick this up during those five lost years?” Sun Jack stared at the e-cigarette in his hand, lost in thought.

He didn’t want to accept the idea that everything—his family, friends, personality, and worldview—was a fabrication, planted into his head.

But whether he accepted it or not, he had to face the reality that such a possibility existed.

To dismiss it, he’d have to find a way to prove his memories’ absolute authenticity.

Watching him take puff after puff, Four Ai smiled as she gazed at his profile.

“What are you looking at?” Sun Jack asked, uncomfortable under her gaze.

“Your face is a mess. Aren’t you going to fix it up?” Four Ai said, referring to his disfigured features.

“I’m not in the mood. Maybe next time.”

“Didn’t you buy insurance for this?”

“Forget it. It’s just a minor injury; I’ll find a doctor myself. Don’t want to increase my premiums.”

“Smart thinking,” Four Ai remarked as she reached out, gently brushing his cheek, her eyes filled with a hint of infatuation. “Such a handsome guy, too bad you still have to poop.”

“What the f*** is wrong with you? Don’t you have a business to run or something?” Sun Jack swatted her hand away.

Four Ai stood up, looking down at him on the sofa. “Stop overthinking everything alone. Sometimes, things you can’t solve on your own might be easily fixed by someone else.”

“Who should I ask?”

“Your teammates. We agreed to stick together to watch each other’s backs, didn’t we? So why are you shutting them out now?”

The next evening, at a corner table in the Hotdog Bar, everyone had gathered. A beer sat in front of each of them.

This time, Sun Jack was treating. The table also had a few hotdogs—turns out the bar actually sold them. Apparently, Old 6 had just been stingy and avoided ordering them before.

During the day, Tapai’s armor and Sun Jack’s facial injuries had been patched up. Sun Jack’s repairs hadn’t cost much, but the parts Tapai used for his were anything but cheap.

26.0252 @coins.

AA picked up his beer with both hands, took a tentative sip, and immediately put it down when he saw no one else drinking.

“Bro, you saved my life. If there’s anything you need, just say the word. Just, uh, don’t ask for money,” Song 6PUS said, using his new prosthetic hand to grab a hotdog, which he devoured in big bites.

Song 6PUS’s chest cavity had been patched up, and his teeth were restored, though oddly they were multicolored and looked like cheap plastic. The uneven sizes gave him a buck-toothed appearance. Who knows where he got them?

“I’ve got a problem—a memory problem,” Sun Jack finally said.

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