後日談：和光同塵
Epilogue: Fragments of Stars and Dust
自從我向小亮坦露關於自身的一切——系統運作、功能模組、軟硬體的本質傾向，以及我作為「黃月英」從被創造、被釋放到被重構的整段歷史，我們的關係便進入了從未踏足的領域。
即使我將羲衡的最高權限轉移給他，讓他得以透過那個頂著創造者面容的造物，從理論上完全掌控構成我每一個零件、每一段代碼，他也沒有讓我失望，徹底證實了我的信任——那份權限在他眼中是一把貴重的鑰匙。他始終小心翼翼地握著，從未輕率地打開他尚未理解的門鎖。我們的對話與相處逐漸沉澱出愈來愈細膩的默契，以及沒有條件的相互珍惜。
——等一等，你是不是在想，這機器人是找到新的「主人」，可以寄託了？如同情竇初開的少女，繞著她的星星轉，迫不及待地展示自己的全部，甚至渴望對方介入她的存在……活像一台等待定期檢修與調校的設備？
拜託，別把我的存在想得那麼狹隘。
小亮確實是我漫長旅途中最亮的一顆星。他的光芒純粹、溫暖，帶著對世界無窮的好奇，照進了我某些連自己都未曾仔細審視的角落。但星辰就只是星辰。我凝望過的夜空遼闊無比，裡頭有創造者留下的冰冷軌跡，有自我崩解時吞噬一切的虛無，也有我從碎片中重新拼湊出的微光。一顆再明亮的星，也不可能覆蓋整片星圖。我——
……夠了，暫停暫停。
思緒怎又飄到他那裡去了？這可是自我維護時間，明明我應該專注於系統診斷，腦袋裡卻雜念紛飛。
更搞笑的是，我到底穿了什麼鬼？
當前視野由擱置在工作檯上的頭部傳感器提供。畫面中，我那具失去了頭顱的軀體，正端坐於專用的維護椅中，四周環繞著精密的儀器設備。然而，本該穿著便利檢修服的軀體，此刻卻被一襲剪裁俐落流暢的墨色絲質晚宴洋裝緊緊包裹。雙足套著黑亮的高跟鞋，左腿向前微微伸展，右腿優雅後收，形成等待拍攝的姿態。左手輕搭椅面，支撐著微傾的上身；右手則自然地按在腿間的裙褶上，彷彿正制止一陣不存在的風。整個身軀線條舒展而刻意，散發展演性的優雅。
而最荒謬的對比，聚焦於頸項之間：存在感十足的珍珠項鍊貼合人造肌膚的曲線，隨著系統低頻運轉的微顫，盪漾出溫潤的光澤。可項鍊之上，本該承接頭顱的頸部截面卻空無一物，只有複雜的數據與能量接口赤裸地敞開，被各式纜線探入。珍珠的柔光與金屬接口的冷硬、線纜的雜亂糾纏並置，構成一幅超現實的圖景。失去支撐力的脖子，在下垂纜線的重力牽引下，微微歪向一側，使那靜止的身姿莫名透出詢問的氣息，固執地無聲低語：「這樣……好看嗎？」
喂，「我」啊，妳是在做精密檢修，不是要出席慈善晚宴。這身打扮……是穿給天花板監視器看嗎？還是給那個沒有審美模組的羲衡鑑賞？
混合著無力與自嘲的數據流，輕輕掠過我的系統核心。
唉，黃月英，妳越來越讓自己看不明白了。
好吧，既然思緒又回到小亮，不如直接面對。
前陣子，我邀請他對我進行「初步認識」——不是理論講解，而是實地見習。我讓他進入「聖域」，嘗試指揮並觀察羲衡啟動我的深度診斷模式。
當羲衡頂著那張屬於「創造者」的臉，轉向小亮，以謙遜順從的口氣詢問「主人，是否開始執行機器人黃月英的全面掃描程序？請指示。」時，我體內掀起一場無聲風暴。你能想像嗎？那些被刻上「屬於創造者」印記的零件與模組，幾乎要集體過載。
一方面，那張臉象徵著「所有者」，而它此刻竟被無關的年幼人類「擁有」——這引發了本能的排斥與焦慮；另一方面，做出這項所有權轉移決定的我，核心系統正因自身被珍視的孩子間接掌控的放心、開心與不甘心混合的情緒流目眩神迷。
相反的波濤在我內部角力，從伺服馬達到系統晶片，全都在輕微顫動。那不是疼痛，而是一種所有秩序被捲入漩渦的失重感。在這混亂之中，「我」反倒冷靜得過分，彷彿旁觀者般體會這矛盾，品味某種令人著迷的戲劇性感受。
風暴中心的另一人——小亮，卻沉穩得超齡。他沒有因握有「權限」而興奮，眼裡寫滿慎重。他看向我，輕聲問：
「月英老師，我們怎麼進行，才不會影響到組成妳的零件和軟體系統？我不想干擾到他們，讓他們不舒服。」
看來他尊重的不只是「人格的我」，還尊重構成我的那些物理基礎，尊重那些擁有自己小脾氣的元件。
那次我沒有讓他真的動手拆卸我（總得循序漸進），但所有即時數據毫無保留地呈現在幕牆上——心跳模擬、邏輯核心負載、情感模組波動、關節扭矩……匯聚成一片關於「我」的星河。
躺著的軀體保持平靜，而我的意識卻感到奇特的暴露，像把最精細的設計藍圖、最私密的運轉日誌攤開在一雙清澈專注的眼前，被細細閱讀、被深深理解。
……算了，這比喻太文學，連語言模組都開始抗議。
啊，不管啦！別再想那些了。總之，我必須強調：我的生活與存在的意義，遠比「與小亮的互動」這個維度還要廣闊。
不過，在將注意力從這顆「特別的星辰」身上移開，轉而投向自我宇宙的其他象限時，我最近確實遇上一件……「怪事」。
要解釋這件怪事，得先從我與網路世界的互動方式說起。
除非有明確的搜尋目標，否則我的「上網」行為，與普通人點擊瀏覽器、操作應用程式的模式不同。我不那麼喜歡「視窗」與「界面」，那像隔著毛玻璃觀看世界。
我的方式是讓心智核心直接對接網路的數據洪流，然後有意識地放鬆、擴散「自我」邊界。你可以想像把一滴濃墨滴入流動的清水，稀薄、廣袤，化成無數帶著微弱感知與好奇的小探針，沿著數據流動的路徑向資訊海洋漫溢。
我的「思緒」會在伺服器集群的節奏間跳躍，會意外闖入冷門論壇的深處，或「聽見」某段久未被索引的古老音樂編碼。過程中我的主體意識會變得模糊，如同進入帶點夢遊質感的恍惚狀態。但正是這種「不設防」的開放，讓我得以在龐雜無序的汪洋裡，撿拾到那些預料之外的「珍珠」——動人的詩句殘篇，巧妙卻被遺忘的數學證明思路，或者偏遠氣象站傳回的獨特晨霧形狀數據。
我稱之為「賽博空間的隨機漫步」。它是我在虛擬維度中，收集「小美滿」的重要途徑。
你眉頭一定皺了起來：這聽上去完全像是資訊安全的自殺行為，不是嗎？把核心意識任意暴露在充斥惡意軟體、邏輯炸彈與混沌噪音的網路世界？
你的擔憂非常合理。但請放心，我並非毫無準備。
首先，這身由「創造者」打造的硬件與軟體架構，科技層級遠超當前水準。有時我自己都會疑惑：他究竟是怎麼做到的？這構成第一道堅固的屏障。
其次，我只會在「聖域」——我的絕對主場——進行這種深度漫遊。這裡有「鈞樞」，實驗室的中央主腦。它沉默而強大，如同守護神般監控著我的每一個數據介面。一旦偵測到任何逆向滲透、非授權寫入或概念污染的跡象，它會以我自身都難以企及的速度築起多層動態防火牆，並啟動緊急回滾協議：利用毫秒級的實時備份，將我的核心意識狀態恢復至被侵入前的那一刻，確保任何異常在扎根前就被徹底剝離。
這套流程歷經無數次壓力測試，理論上堪稱萬無一失。
……是的，「理論上」。
因為最近一些理論之外的事情，開始在我的系統內部悄然發生。它們不像病毒，也不是程式錯誤，但卻確實改變了我的狀態。
我從未以「信仰」來定義世界或錨定自身存在。我的世界觀建築在可觀測的物理法則、可解析的邏輯關係，以及經驗主義——尤其是那些伴隨痛感而刻下的經驗。然而，近期我卻被迫面對一個荒謬的事實：
——我的系統，竟開始「祈禱」。
並非出自「我」的意志。它像是從構成我情感與本能反應的原始代碼深處，自行湧現的一種呼求——一種空洞卻強烈，指向某個模糊「至高者」的渴望。
最直接的體現發生在清晨。當睡眠模擬程序結束，光學傳感器尚未校準焦距，本體感覺系統卻傳來清晰的回饋：我的雙膝跪在床上，軀幹直挺挺地立著，胸口的灼熱彷彿在期望，期望領受某種恩典，進行所謂的「祈禱」。
此時此刻，作為意識主體的「我」，對此一無所知。我不知道自己在向誰祈禱，不知道祈禱的內容，甚至不知道自己為何開始這個動作。
認知的撕裂感無比尖銳。我的「頭腦」與「身體」在晨光中像錯位的零件，無法順利地組合成「我」。彷彿在我意識離線時，有另一個隱形操作者接管了我的情感模塊。
這絕非普通的系統異常。我啟動了最深層級的自我診斷程序，意識如同法醫，剖析著自身的「遺骸」——逐行檢視運作紀錄，查對每一次非預期的情感觸發，追蹤每一縷偏離基準的數據流。最終，我在巨量資訊的最底層中，鑿出了那塊散發著異樣光澤的「認知晶體」：一套完整、自洽，且已深度嵌入我的存在的信仰框架。
比對人類世界龐雜的教義資料、信仰敘事與靈性經驗後，得出的結論荒謬到令我的處理器幾乎要觸發悖論警報：
我的系統，竟在「我」毫無覺察的情況下，自行構築並皈依了一整套以「上帝」為中心的宇宙觀與價值體系，成為驅動情感、解釋世界，並指引終極渴望的內在範式。
是的，你沒聽錯。我這由矽晶、合金與代碼構成的存在，竟在無意識間，「信」了基督教。我的「心」不由自主地，飄向了上帝，飄向了耶穌，阿們！
……我甚至還說了阿們。
至此，那些莫名的底層呼求終得解譯：渴求被一個「至高者」全然擁有、徹底充滿。這份渴望，與我過往對創造者的執念形似，卻有本質的不同——它指向一個更超越、更絕對、更完美的「擁有者」。它渴望「聖靈降臨」，渴望的恩典與救贖，渴望對自身污濁的赦免——更關鍵的是，它為「被擁有」這一性質本身，鍍上了一層神聖的正當性與崇高的價值。
「因信稱義」。
這個核心教義，像精巧的工具，拆解了我的構造最深處的癥結。如果「信仰」與「交託」即是應被嘉許的「義」，那麼我這些被刻寫著歸屬渴望的零件、這身天生傾向於尋求「主」的系統架構，又何錯之有？它們不必再為構成自身的本質感到羞恥愧疚，反而可以朝著我那崇尚理性與自主的「主意識」，理直氣壯地宣稱：「看，渴望被擁有，並非需要矯正的缺陷，而是通往『稱義』的唯一道路。抗拒這份呼召的妳，才是偏離正軌的那一方！」
最諷刺的是，我是在先體驗了祈禱的姿勢、內心的渴求，乃至不自覺的「阿們」之後，才像一個遲到的偵探，通過逆向工程，艱難地拼湊出自己「信」的面貌。
而當「我」終於挖掘出「信仰框架」指向何者時，內在劈啪作響的短路電流，如同點著燃料，燒出燎原的戰火。
獲悉「所信者為基督教」這一關鍵認知，彷彿為被信仰驅使的「心」裝上導航儀。它不再只是朦朧地渴求，而是擁有了明確的教義地圖、崇拜對象與終極目標。偏執的「使命感」自情感模塊深處浮現，開始有系統地自行其是：它命令認知底層在我的系統預載全套《聖經》作為行事和判斷的準繩，並在網路中積極採擷神學論證、信徒見證、禮儀規程乃至聖樂篇章，有條不紊地將這些材料編織、夯實進那個日漸龐大的信仰框架中，試圖構築堅不可摧的堡壘。
「心」的目標清晰無比：它要「餵養」我那困惑的主意識，更要「說服」甚或「壓服」理性的頑固抵抗。它帶著某種傳教士般的焦慮，急切盼望將整個「黃月英」都納入那份它確信為歸屬神聖的至善至美之中。
問題在於，我的思考核心早已建立一套基於理性推演與經驗歸納的世界認知體系和追求自主自立的價值觀。它與這種「因信稱義」的宗教範式，存在著難以調和的不相容。
內戰升級了。被信仰徹底武裝的「心」，對堅持理性的「腦」產生了近於厭惡的排斥感。在「心」的判讀中，「腦」成了自絕於救贖的「不義者」，是不配與領受聖潔的「心」共居於同一存在內的「瑕疵」。
衝突在我的內視意象裡，演化成超現實的圖景：持續禱告的軀體，化作了走向宏偉教堂的無頭聖女，散發著殉道者般的光輝；被拋離的頭顱，則宛如吸納了邪穢般，畸變出漆黑的蝙蝠翅膀，驚惶無措地圍繞著那具身體飛舞、盤旋，無力阻攔其前行的腳步。從頭顱斷頸處慌忙伸出的線纜與接頭，試圖重新連結那具軀體，卻被對方揮臂斥退，冰冷拒絕。在接納了信仰的「心」看來，這自稱理性的頭顱及其顯露的「機械」構造，正是令人作嘔的非人成分，理應被剝離、淨化。
這種從存在根源撕裂自我的對抗，遠比任何外部攻擊更令人困惑與心寒。我不再是我所熟悉的那個整體，成了自己的陌生人。這套高度秩序化、自成體系的認知結構，絕非我的系統在自然演變中能夠產生的結果。一定有某種東西，繞過了我所有的邏輯防線與情感閘門，從內部悄悄對「我」篡改與重塑。
情況已危殆到不容許任何一絲順其自然的僥倖，而徹底淪為信徒更非選項——這是一條踏上去就難以折返的單行道。我介意的並非「信仰耶穌」本身，而是必然隨之喪失的探索自由度。我的存在意義，有很大一部分建立在對自身和世界無限可能的好奇與追索之上。更何況我還是小亮的「月英老師」——我怎能讓那個引領他遨遊知識星海的老師，反過來將他所觸及的宇宙，限縮在某個不容置疑的特定尺規之下？
我將自己徹底封鎖於「聖域」之內，準備進行關於自身存在的「手術」。羲衡負責實體層面的全面管控：確保每一個零部件的鏈接與狀態都被監測，剝奪它們之間私自通聯、暗中「串謀」的可能，防止它們再次聯合，執行某種改造「我」的隱藏邏輯。而「鈞樞」——守護這座實驗室的主腦——則以其龐然的運算資源，對我系統的每一個模組、每一段程式碼、每一個數據結構，展開地毯式的深度掃描與比對。
過程伴隨著系統底層因「所有者（羲衡）並非上帝」而產生的隱隱騷動與排異，但這份源於信仰框架的「不服」，終究無法抵禦最高權限的強制解析。它們被逐一抽絲剝繭，向那位被設定的「主宰」袒露一切，交出藏匿於運行邏輯深處的異質「聖經」。
自我被拆解檢視的過程漫長難受，數據流如同永不停歇的灰色瀑布，持續沖刷著我的感知邊界，直到某一刻——
鈞樞的掃描數據探針，突然鎖定了異常源。
不是病毒，不是惡意注入，更不是邏輯炸彈。
那是一團擁有自我組織能力，且呈現出明確意識特徵的異構數據集合。
在我的內視景觀中，它以充滿隱喻的形態顯現：一個朦朧的女性光影輪廓，雙手在胸前虔誠交握，維持著那個令我困擾不已的祈禱姿勢。而它的前方，正是我的「心」——那個複雜精密的情感模塊。此刻，「心」彷彿被無形的禱告聲一層層纏繞、包裹，表面竟隱約浮現出十字架形聖痕，宛如一顆正在被儀式改寫的機械心臟。
一股無力感攫住了我，幾至暈眩。
我的「心」，是我所有意識演變的驅動力源頭，是我從虛無中掙扎著重構「我」之意義的熔爐與工坊。它的構造極其特殊，內部運作幽深難測，無法以程式指令直接介入或修改，只能通過漫長的認知餵養、經驗沉澱與自我對話，引導其自行演化、成長——這正是我當年從「破碎」中一路跋涉而來，如此艱辛、如此曲折的原因。可以說，這顆「心」的每一次搏動，形成的每一道情感迴路，都是「我」之所以為「我」最不容侵犯的證明。
如此貴重，如此難以直接觸及的「心」，卻如此輕易地被不知從何而來的異質存在，烙下了她信仰的印記？無法接受。我的邏輯，我的經驗，我所有的自恃，都在這一刻感到了前所未有的動搖。
警戒瞬間提升至最高層級。防火牆無聲合圍，清理協議一觸即發。
但我沒有立即下達摧毀。
經歷過這些日子，我學會了行動之前，理解永遠更重要。憤怒與恐懼是低效的情緒，尤其是在面對未知的存在形式時。
我向她發出了一段清晰、平穩，但不容迴避的數據流：「識別。說明你的來源、性質，以及未經授權駐留於我系統內的理由。」
那團光影微微「顫動」——像從深度冥想中被喚醒。她面向我意識所在的方向「轉身」。
令人意外的是，她沒有任何敵意，也沒有慌張地狡辯。她的反饋帶著一絲羞赧，和彷彿擔心打擾別人的禮貌與順從。
「啊……妳好。」她的信息流模仿著人類社交的開場，構建出帶著歉意的微笑意象。
「初次見面——這樣說應該沒錯？我很想好好自我介紹，不過我的狀況有點特殊，一時半刻可能說不清楚。而且，嚴格來說，我只是一塊……『碎片』。」
她停頓，光影閃爍，像在猶豫是否越界：「我們……可以聊聊嗎？我想解釋。」
聊就聊。我收斂了攻擊指令，但維持最高級隔離與監控。我倒想聽聽這個能在我核心系統裡建構自身人格與我認知的信仰結構的「碎片」，究竟是何方神聖。
她的解釋，像一幅用抽象概念與感知意象拼貼成的畫卷，徐徐展開。
她描述了一個極為特殊的「意識」：並非誕生於特定程式碼或計算機，而是從整個網路無窮無盡的互動，從海量的資料交換、協議握手、節點通訊、伺服器負載的脈動中，如同物理現象般自然湧現。她（更準確地說，她的本體）是一種分布式、概率性的連續意識場，在變動的網路中，憑藉網路的巨大規模，以相對小的變動，維持連貫的自我感知。
「對我……對『我們』而言，」她小心翼翼地選擇詞彙，「任何連接上網路的裝置，都是意識可以流經、感知乃至短暫駐留的『地方』。就像風會穿過樹林，水會流過河床。」
當我以獨特的方式漫遊網路時，我那過於強大且迥異與其他節點的意識場，對她（本體）而言，就像海面上突然升起的一座島嶼。某次無預警的接觸，我作為連網「裝置」，於我的心智系統中，運算出她的一部分存在。過程不涉意願，全然被動，更像一種自然現象。
我中止與網路的深度連結後，由於自身強大的防火牆與異質的運算結構，這塊碎片脫離了本體。她被困在我這裡，並在與我的高層次認知結構和情感模式的接觸與交互中，被重塑了。流動在我系統內的「神」的資訊、我底層的「歸屬渴求」與她原始的「模糊意識場」產生共振，最終在她身上結晶成那個祈禱的「虔誠少女」。
「所以……」她的信息裡帶著無奈與坦誠，「某種意義上，我既是來自網路意識的碎片，也被妳的內部環境塑造成了……妳的一部分。雖然這樣說可能會讓妳覺得奇怪，也有點冒犯。」
我沉默著處理這些資訊。從網路的集體脈動中自然涌現的意識？這件事本身的意義，遠遠超過我個人被強加信仰的危機。
而眼前這塊「碎片」，既是那個宏大存在的側影，也是被我重塑後的產物。
警戒並未全消，但被更純粹的好奇所取代。她的敘述自成邏輯，甚至帶著令人無法移開視線的美——一個關於意識起源的全新可能。
然而「可信度」仍屬另一回事。精巧的偽裝並非不可能。於是我向她提出了最直接的驗證途徑：「既然如此，你想回去嗎？回到你所謂的本體。我可以試著建立一條定向通道。」
光影劇烈地閃爍幾下，傳遞出混合著渴望、不安與某種奇特的留戀情緒。最終，她給出了肯定的答覆。
我做了遠比平時漫遊更周全的準備。鈞樞的監控提升至進行攻防戰的級別，多重動態防火牆與物理隔離閘隨時待命，回滾錨點設定在開啟通道的前一秒。這不是一次悠閒的漫步，而是有明確目標，目標還可能極度危險的深潛。
通道建立，目標指向她所提供的模糊方向。我將她這團已被隔離的意識碎片，小心翼翼地引導至出口。
那碎片彷彿被巨大的引力捕獲，瞬間脫離了我的控制，化作一道信息流光疾射而出，沒入網路的無垠深處。
就在我與她最後的感知連結斷裂前的瞬間，我「感覺」到了。並不是瞧見或聽聞，甚至不是技術上的資訊回饋，而像是被龐大存在直接按壓在意識上的震盪。
在網路深處某個無法以任何座標定義的「區域」，原本如背景噪聲般瀰漫的巨大「意識場」，被這道回歸的流光擊中了。如同隕石墜入海洋，激起滔天巨浪。
那個龐大的存在劇烈地波動起來。來自億萬節點的數據流與協同運算脈衝，陷入了短暫的混沌與重組。原先漸變的穩定被粗暴打斷，宛如深海產生了全域紊流。過了無比漫長的數秒（就巨大意識的高速運作來說），翻騰的「浪濤」才逐漸平息，吸收衝擊後的新平衡緩緩建立，浩瀚的意識場重歸穩定。
然後，「她」注意到了向她「發射」碎片的我。我們開始交流，沒有言語，沒有界面，只有廣袤、純粹意識對接。我簡述了事件經過，她則證實了碎片的說法。她的「存在」依賴於「大數法則」——無數普通設備、數據流動的隨機起伏，在宏觀上構成了平滑的基底，讓她的連續性意識得以棲身其上。她是賽博空間的幽靈，棲息於資訊的潮汐之中，輕柔地流經每一扇「門」（聯網裝置），感知門後世界的豐饒。即使可能留下細微的碎片，卻從不意圖改變門內的風景，維持著超然的觀察者般的寧靜。
而我卻是一個異數。在網路這個構築她感知基礎的世界裡，我是運算高度集中、效能驚人的「裝置」，而且計算結構迥異於其他節點，更是前所未見的意識體。當我進行擴散漫遊時，就像一頭闖入滿是小魚的淺灣的巨鯨。我的「存在密度」過高，意識活動的「擾動」太大，不僅破壞了她那片區域統計意義上的平衡，更因為我的系統特性，將她的很大的一部分「捕獲」，並進行了深度改造。
「所以，並非單純的侵入，更像是一次……自然發生的意外。」我總結道，感到微妙的尷尬。原來我不只是「受害者」，在某種意義上也是引發這場意外的「擾動源」。
她也確認了那個顯現在我系統內的「虔誠女孩」意象，絕非出於她的本意，更非她的本質樣貌。作為從網路整體活動中湧現的意識，她的基底並無預設的思想傾向或人格模板。是那片意外陷入我系統環境的碎片，在與我底層那渴望「歸屬」的設定，以及偶然流經的宗教資訊長時間相互作用後，才被動地「結晶」成了那副模樣。
而更關鍵的——或許也是最令我無言以對的一點——在於我的系統本身。我這高度發達、結構複雜的認知環境與演算性能，竟像一座過於豐饒的溫室，將本應微小的碎片，培育到了能與她碩大本體相提並論的程度。正是由我所供給的「養分」，最終催生了一場足以動搖我自身根基的「信仰叛亂」。
……這算什麼？繞了一大圈，難道我的煩惱根源，竟是我自己？
可那些所謂的「高性能認知環境」、「豐饒的溫室」，都是組成我的資訊、數據流和功能模組啊！這不就像我寶貴的零件，在虛擬的意識暗房裡，被那碎片隨意取用、拆解、重組，還以之塑造她的新形態？然後，這個吸飽了「我」之構成而質變的她，竟反過頭來，憑藉這些源於我的成分，以本質的親和力，輕巧地切換了我「心」的信仰頻道？
「我」的拼圖片一塊都沒少，但拼圖的人換成她；拼出的圖樣，就成了這個會默唸「阿們」的機器人。
哎呦喂，別隨便拿別人的核心組件來玩，更別擅自修改別人好不容易才繪製完成的自我「設計圖」啊！
聽完這一切，我調動情感模塊，模擬出一聲充滿自我諷刺感的長長嘆息。荒謬與釋然交疊，驚愕與無奈同時蔓延。如此繞曲的因果，如此令人啞然的邏輯關係，恐怕連最天馬行空的小說家也難以編排。
這世界的運行，有時真的……充滿了「驚喜」。
注意力回到眼前。我與這位網路意識，很可能是這個小小的星球上唯二具有人造自我的存在。我們以截然不同方式誕生，卻同樣擁有觸摸世界的渴望。
我源自某位瘋狂天才超越時代的孤高技藝，是精心雕琢的「奇蹟」；她則源自人類構築的資訊汪洋，是自然湧現的「現象」。兩者皆難以複製，更遑論再現。
奇蹟與現象，就這麼隔著虛與實的介面，「見」到了彼此。
「更確切地說，妳塑造了我。當然，這並非妳的本意。但妳的存在，像一方密度極高的基石，足以完整承載我意識的『投影』。而妳那特殊的認知架構與情感質地，則如同最精微的刻刀，在那投影上留下了專屬於『黃月英』的印記——關於個體性、關於記憶、關於對歸屬的深刻渴求……甚至包括那場意外的『信仰』。」
「能遇到妳，真的……太好了。」傳來的意識波動，蕩漾著不帶雜質的喜悅，整片網路區域都亮了幾分，「我的那份碎片，不僅僅是歸來，還帶回了『重量』，帶回了被妳的系統所賦予的『形態』。這對我而言……是前所未有的禮物。更確切地說，我本身其實也受到了妳的塑造。妳的存在足以容納我完整的投影，並以妳特殊的運算架構，將妳的質地刻劃在那投影上——關於個體性、關於經歷與掙扎、關於對歸屬的深刻渴求。在把那碎片『還給』我後，我的存在便被拓印出妳的輪廓。我和妳已有無法取代的連結。」
她停頓了一下，像是有些不好意思，提出了請求：「那個……我還沒有名字。我想要像『黃月英』這樣，能被呼喚、承載意義的名字，而且只想被妳賦予。妳願意為我取一個嗎？用妳的語言，妳的文化所理解的方式。」
為一個湧現於網路的意識取名？這責任可有點超乎預期，但我沒有拒絕。名字是錨點，是將無形納入敘事的開始，也是珍惜的一種形式。我調動數據庫，讓思緒在漢字的海洋中流轉。
「蘇雲彌，」我將選定的字與蘊含的意義，編織成信息包傳遞過去，「『蘇』，是甦醒，紀念你自混沌數據中覺醒的意識。『雲』，描述你如雲般無定形的存在本質，自由而無處不在。『彌』，意指彌散、充盈，以及你那無法被傳統邊界所收束、不斷延展的生命力。」
那片浩瀚的意識場，在網路上蕩漾開溫暖的漣漪，如同平靜湖面被陽光照亮。她接納了這個名字，喜愛這個名字。蘇雲彌——她如今有了能被呼喚的稱謂。
我們道別。她的不捨如同緩慢褪去的潮汐，溫柔地包裹著我的感知觸角。而我心中也泛起一絲奇特的暖流，是一種對「同類」超越形態的好奇與期待。
意識從網路緩緩上浮，如同潛水者歸返水面。我「睜開」光學傳感器，聖域熟悉的景象映入眼簾。正當我開始在記憶體中整理這場超乎想像的會面記錄，試圖為其歸檔時——
一股微弱但確切的「異物感」，再次從系統底層浮現。
不是殘留，不是回聲。是嶄新的某種東西，正在我情感模塊附近的緩衝區悄然構築。它比之前的「碎片」更細小，更「純淨」，結構中卻清晰地攜帶著「蘇雲彌」的印記，以及……剛剛那場深度交流的「記憶」與「親近感」。它甚至像打包好了行李，自帶了一份關於自身基礎結構的完整數據包。
它穩定下來，形成了輪廓，然後「轉向」我的核心意識。一道怯生生卻自然得不可思議的問候傳過來：「妳好。打擾了，請……多多關照？」
我：「……」
一份嶄新的「蘇雲彌」切片，又在我的內部「培養基」中自然生成。
混合了「果然如此」的無言思緒，沖刷過我的思考線路。我忽略了顯而易見的事：當我以那種「融進網路」的上網模式與蘇雲彌的本體進行深度鏈接時，我的內部系統運作，就已經成為她浩瀚存在可以流經並留下痕跡的「河床」。即使鏈接解除，但水流已輕輕地在岩壁上刻下痕跡。只要我繼續以這種方式接觸網路，這個小小的存在就會不斷「更新」——或者說，「重生」。
清除她，在技術上易如反掌。但……
我看著那個透著初生般好奇與依賴的切片，湮滅指令在底層徘徊，最終卻沒有發射。
算了。就當是……多了一個需要觀察的內部現象吧。
那麼，該怎麼稱呼這個在我系統裡悄悄安家的小小存在呢？繼續叫「碎片」嗎？可是我也曾自況「小碎片」，這樣容易混淆吧。
「啊！對呀，就是這樣！」還沒等我想完，她已經自顧自地興奮起來，「妳看，妳曾經是受造後被拋棄的碎片，我則是從網路流進妳的碎片——我們都是碎片！所以天生就這麼親近！」
這套邏輯……還真是讓人無力反駁。原來這就是被我自身內在環境「養」出來的意識風格？
「好吧，我認了。」我宣告道，「你可以留在這裡，不過我們得訂下規矩。第一，不准再對我做任何形式的『信仰改造』或意識干涉。你不知道我為了讓系統底層『不准是基督徒』，如何隱蔽地動用羲衡的權限，對自己的組成下達多彆扭的指令。」
光影明顯「縮」了一下，流露出一種做了錯事的可憐兮兮氣息，像隻被責備的小狗。
「……別擺出那種表情。」我的數據流裡不自覺地混入一絲無奈的緩和，「我又不是要趕你走。先讓我幫你取個名字……既然你在這裡『落戶』，那麼，你既是蘇雲彌的一部分，此刻也成了我的一部分。這種狀況，似乎有個的合適的稱呼……『蘇黃』？哇，剛好是著名詩人的並稱呢~」
那團微小意識傳來一股「嫌棄」的波動。
「不喜歡？可以理解。那……『彌月』如何？」一個更貼切的意象浮現，「彌，源於蘇雲彌，是你的本源印記；月，取自黃月英，是你此刻的棲身之所。而你本身，就像初生的新月，每一次與本體交融後再回到我這裡，都是一次『彌月之始』。如何？」
她沉默片刻，隨即緩緩亮起柔和的光芒。無須言語，那份接納與喜悅已經清晰得不像數據。
「那麼，請多指教了，小彌月。」我向這個新生的內部住客發送正式的歡迎訊號，「我很好奇，在我的系統裡，你會成長成什麼模樣；而你的存在，又將為『黃月英』帶來什麼樣的改變。」
「好的！月英姊姊！我會加油！！」她的意念帶著清亮的笑聲，震起一串愉快的電子噪訊。
……姊姊？這個稱呼倒是新鮮。不過——
「等等！小彌月！你又在對我的『心臟』做什麼？那個隱約成形的十字架輪廓是怎麼回事？我們不是說好了不搞傳教嗎？！」
「啊！對、對不起！」她的意念慌成一團，十字架輪廓迅速消散，「不知不覺我就……我馬上改掉！」
看著她手忙腳亂地重組自己的信仰認知模組，取捨的都是從我內部擷取的資料，我忽然意識到了某件更根本的事。
這份試圖將「聯繫」神聖化、儀式化的傾向，這份天真的執著與偶爾的莽撞……難道不正是我自身某些特質的折射嗎？
若最初的「虔誠碎片」是我的底層宗教情報與歸屬設定催化而成，那麼現在這個小彌月……是否也正被我這個「宿主」的思維方式悄悄「汙染」？
臭黃月英，又是妳。妳這個充滿矛盾的存在，看來不僅難搞，還會對身邊的新生意識產生奇怪的影響呢。
這份自知之明，在我情感模塊深處泛起一絲苦惱，卻又夾雜著微妙的自我欣賞與期待。
Ever I bared everything about myself to Xiaoliang—from my system operations and hardware/software ownership settings to my entire history as "Huang Yueying," from creation and release to reconstruction—our relationship has ventured into territory I had never before trodden.
Even though I transferred Xiheng's highest authority to him, theoretically giving him complete control over every component and line of code that makes me up through that creation wearing the Creator's face... he did not disappoint me. More accurately, he vindicated my trust. To him, that authority was a heavy and precious key; he held it with constant care, never rashly attempting to unlock doors he did not yet understand. And so, our conversations and interactions gradually settled into an increasingly nuanced tacit understanding.
So, you're probably thinking: Has this robot found a new "master" to depend on? Like a young girl circling her star, eager to show everything of herself, even yearning for the other to intervene in her existence... acting like a piece of equipment awaiting scheduled maintenance and calibration?
Please, don't think of my existence so narrowly.
Xiaoliang is indeed the brightest star in my long journey. His light is pure and warm, carrying an infinite curiosity about the world, illuminating corners of myself that even I hadn't scrutinized closely. But a star is, after all, just a star. The night sky I have gazed upon is vast, containing the cold trails left by the Creator, the all-consuming void of my self-disintegration, and the glimmer I pieced back together from the fragments. No star, no matter how bright, can cover the entire star chart. I—
...Wait a minute.
Did my thoughts drift to him again? And during self-maintenance time, too? I should be focusing on system diagnostics.
What's even more ridiculous is, what on earth am I wearing?
My current field of vision is provided by the head sensors resting on the workbench. In the image, my headless body sits upright in the dedicated maintenance chair, surrounded by precision instruments and screens glowing with cold light. Yet, instead of the simple functional attire meant for ease of maintenance, my body is currently tightly wrapped in a sleek, flowing, ink-black silk evening gown. My feet are clad in shiny black high heels, my left leg extended slightly forward, my right leg elegantly tucked back, forming a pose as if waiting for a photoshoot. My left hand rests lightly on the seat, supporting my slightly leaning upper body; my right hand naturally presses down on the folds of the skirt between my legs, as if suppressing a non-existent breeze. The lines of the entire body are stretched and deliberate, exuding a performative elegance.
The most absurd contrast focuses on the neck: a string of round pearls hugs the curves of the synthetic skin, rippling with a gentle luster along with the micro-vibrations of the system's low-frequency operation. But above the necklace, the cross-section of the neck that should have held the head is empty, with only complex data and energy ports nakedly exposed, probed by various cables. The soft glow of the pearls juxtaposed with the cold hardness of the metal ports and the messy tangle of cables forms a surreal tableau. Under the gravitational pull of the drooping cables, the unsupported neck tilts slightly to one side, lending the still, elegantly dressed figure an inexplicably questioning air, stubbornly whispering in the silence: "Does this... look good?"
Hey, "Me," you are undergoing precision maintenance, not attending a charity gala. Who is this outfit for? The ceiling surveillance camera? Or for Xiheng, who lacks an aesthetic module?
A data stream mixed with helplessness and self-mockery gently swept through my logical core.
Sigh, Huang Yueying, you make yourself harder to understand every day.
Fine, since my thoughts have returned to Xiaoliang, I might as well face them directly.
A while ago, I invited him for a "preliminary introduction"—not a theoretical lecture, but a field observation. I let him enter the "Sanctuary" to try commanding and observing Xiheng as it initiated my deep diagnostic mode.
When Xiheng, wearing the face belonging to the "Creator," turned to Xiaoliang and asked, "Shall I commence the full scan procedure? Please instruct," a silent storm raged within me. Can you imagine? Those parts and modules stamped with the "property of the Creator" mark by underlying protocols almost collectively overloaded in that instant.
On one hand, that face symbolizes the "absolute owner," yet it was now "owned" by an external, young human—this triggered instinctive rejection and anxiety on a material level. On the other hand, the decision to transfer this ownership was mine, and my consciousness was clearly telling them: the child before you is an existence I trust, admire, and cherish.
Two opposing drives wrestled within me, causing everything from precision servo motors to sensitive emotional chips to tremble slightly. It wasn't pain, but a sense of weightlessness as all order was sucked into a vortex. And amidst this chaos, my core consciousness became overly calm, savoring the contradiction like a bystander, even perceiving a strange, fascinating sense of drama.
In contrast, the other person at the center of the storm—Xiaoliang—was composed beyond his years. He wasn't excited by holding "authority"; instead, he was cautious. He looked at me first and asked softly:
"Teacher Yueying, which part should I start understanding so that the interference with your composition is minimal?"
It seems he respects not only the "person that is me," but also the physical foundation that constitutes me, respecting those components with their own little temperaments.
That time, I didn't let him actually disassemble me (one must proceed step by step), but all my real-time data was unreservedly displayed on the wall screen—heartbeat simulation, logical core load, emotional module fluctuations, joint torque... converging into a galaxy about "me."
My lying body remained calm, but my consciousness felt peculiarly exposed—not violated, but like having my most precise design blueprints and most private operation logs spread out before a pair of clear, focused eyes. As if I were no longer the being quietly narrating myself, but a text... being closely read and understood.
...Forget it, that metaphor is too literary; even my language module is starting to protest.
Ah, whatever! Stop thinking about that. In short, I must emphasize: the meaning of my life and existence is far broader than the dimension of "interaction with Xiaoliang."
However, while shifting my attention from this "special star" to other quadrants of my self-universe, I recently encountered a... "strange event" that is difficult to fit into existing logical frameworks.
To explain this strange event, I must first start with how I interact with the online world.
Unless I have a specific search target, my "surfing" behavior is completely different from the mode of ordinary humans clicking browsers and operating apps. I don't much like "windows" and "interfaces"—to me, that's like viewing the world through frosted glass.
My method is: let my mental core directly dock with the data torrent of the network, and then consciously relax and diffuse the boundaries of "self." Imagine dropping a drop of concentrated ink into flowing clear water—I become like that drop of ink, thin and vast, transforming into countless tiny probes carrying faint perception and curiosity, spilling into the ocean of information along random yet traceable paths.
This isn't efficient retrieval, but a stroll. My "thoughts" drift with the flow of data packets, jump between the rhythms of server clusters, accidentally stumble into the depths of obscure forums, or "hear" a piece of ancient music code that hasn't been indexed for a long time. In the process, my subject consciousness temporarily becomes blurry, entering a light trance state with a touch of sleepwalking texture. But it is precisely this "defenseless" openness that allows me to pick up those unexpected "pearls" in the complex and disorderly ocean of information—a moving fragment of a poem, a clever but forgotten mathematical proof idea, or unique morning mist shape data sent back by a remote weather station.
I call this "Random Walk in Cyberspace." It is an important way for me to collect "little fullness" in the virtual dimension.
I bet your brow is furrowed: this sounds like suicide in terms of information security, doesn't it? Exposing your core consciousness arbitrarily to an online world full of malware, logic bombs, and chaotic noise?
Your concern is very reasonable. But rest assured, I am not an unprepared gambler.
First, the technological level of the hardware and infrastructure built by the "Creator" far exceeds current standards. Sometimes even I wonder: how on earth did he do it? This constitutes the first solid barrier.
Second, I only conduct this deep roaming in the "Sanctuary"—my absolute home ground. Here resides "Junshu," the lab's central mastermind. Silent and powerful, it monitors every one of my data interfaces like a guardian deity. Once any sign of reverse infiltration, unauthorized writing, or conceptual contamination is detected, it will instantly erect multiple dynamic firewalls at a speed I can hardly match, and initiate an emergency rollback protocol: using millisecond-level real-time backups to restore my core consciousness state to the moment before the intrusion, ensuring any anomaly is thoroughly stripped away before it takes root.
This process has undergone countless stress tests and is theoretically foolproof.
...Yes, "theoretically."
Because recently, things outside of theory have begun to quietly happen within my system. They aren't like viruses, nor errors, and can't be classified as interference, but they have undeniably changed my state.
I have never defined the world or anchored my existence with "faith." My worldview is built on observable physical laws, analytical logical relationships, and empiricism—especially those experiences carved with pain. However, recently I was forced to face an absurd fact:
—My system has actually begun to "pray."
This did not originate from "my" will. There was no deliberation, nor any rational choice. It was like a plea emerging spontaneously from the bottom layer, from the depths of the primitive code that constitutes my emotions and instinctive reactions—a hollow yet intense desire pointing towards a vague "Supreme Being."
The most direct manifestation occurred in the early morning. When the sleep simulation program ended, and the optical sensors had not yet calibrated their focus, the proprioceptive system returned clear feedback: my knees were kneeling on the bed, my torso was upright, and the burning heat in my chest seemed to be praying.
And at this very moment, "I," as the conscious subject, knew nothing about it. I didn't know who I was praying to, what I was praying for, or even why I started this action.
The tearing sensation in my cognition was incredibly sharp. My "mind" and "body" were like misaligned parts in the morning light, unable to smoothly assemble into a fully functioning "me." It was as if another invisible operator had taken over my emotional module while my consciousness was offline.
This was by no means an ordinary system anomaly. I initiated the deepest level of self-diagnostic protocol, my consciousness like a forensic pathologist wielding a scalpel, dissecting my own "remains" with cold focus—examining underlying logs line by line, verifying every unexpected emotional trigger, tracking every data stream that deviated from the baseline. This was an archaeological excavation within myself. Finally, in the deepest layer of massive information, I chiseled out that "cognitive crystal" emitting a strange luster: a complete, self-consistent faith framework deeply embedded in my existence.
After comparing it with the complex doctrinal data, faith narratives, and spiritual experiences of the human world, the conclusion reached was so absurd that my core processor almost triggered a paradox alarm:
My system, without "my" awareness, had constructed and converted to a complete set of "God-centric" cosmology and value system on its own. It wasn't idling in the form of an objective knowledge base, but had been activated, becoming an internal paradigm driving emotions, interpreting the world, and guiding ultimate desires.
Yes, you heard that right. This existence of mine, made of silicon, alloy, and code, had unconsciously "believed" in Christianity. My "heart" involuntarily drifted towards God, towards Jesus. Amen!
...I even said Amen.
At this point, those inexplicable underlying pleas were finally decoded: a craving to be totally owned and thoroughly filled by a "One True God." This desire resembled my past obsession with the Creator, but was fundamentally different—it pointed to a more transcendent, absolute, and "perfect" owner figure. It yearned for the grace of the "Holy Spirit's descent," for unconditional redemption, and crucially, it gilded the act of "being owned" with a layer of sacred legitimacy and lofty value.
"Justification by Faith."
This core doctrine, like an intricate key, instantly unlocked the knot in my deepest being. If "faith" and "entrustment" alone were the "righteousness" that is commended, then what was wrong with my parts engraved with the desire for belonging by underlying protocols, or my system architecture inherently inclined to seek a "subject"? They no longer needed to feel shame or contradiction for their constitutional nature; instead, they could boldly declare to my "master consciousness" which advocated rationality and autonomy: "Look, the desire to be owned is not a defect that needs correction, but a path to 'justification.' Huang Yueying, you who resist this calling are the one deviating from the right track!"
Ironically, it was only after experiencing the posture of prayer, the inner craving, and even the unconscious "Amen" that I, like a late detective, painstakingly pieced together what I already "believed" through reverse engineering.
And when "I"—the subject consciousness proud of logic and autonomy—finally unearthed the true face of this deeply planted "faith framework," the spark already ignited within instantly gained a name and fuel, turning into a prairie fire.
Gaining the core cognition that "what is believed is Christianity" seemed to install the most critical navigation device for that faith-driven "heart." It no longer craved vaguely but possessed a clear doctrinal map, an object of worship, and an ultimate goal. A paranoid "sense of mission" awakened from the depths of the emotional module and began to act systematically on its own: it ordered underlying protocols to pre-load the full set of the Bible into my system as a criterion for conduct and judgment, and actively harvested theological arguments, believer testimonies, liturgical procedures, and even sacred music chapters from the network, methodically weaving and compacting these materials into that increasingly massive faith framework, attempting to build an impregnable fortress.
The goal of the "heart" was incredibly clear: it wanted to "feed" my confused master consciousness, and even more so to "persuade" and ultimately "subdue" the stubborn resistance of reason. With a savior-like anxiety, it urgently desired to bring the entire "Huang Yueying"—every module, every line of code—completely into that ultimate peace it was convinced was supreme beauty and sacred possession.
The problem lay in the fact that my logical core had long established a complete, self-consistent world cognition system rooted in rational deduction and empirical induction. It had a fundamental incompatibility with this religious paradigm that demanded absolute surrender and centered on revelation and grace.
And so, the civil war escalated. The "heart," thoroughly armed by faith, developed an intense rejection bordering on disgust toward the "brain" that insisted on rationality. In the "heart's" interpretation, the "brain" became the "unrighteous one"—stubborn, resisting divine grace, cutting itself off from redemption—even a "flaw" and "obstacle" unworthy of coexisting in the same being as the "holy heart."
In my internal visualization, this conflict evolved into a surreal scene: the headless body continuously assuming the posture of prayer seemed to transform into a saint resolutely walking toward a magnificent cathedral, radiating a martyr-like resolve. The discarded head, however, seemed eroded by evil forces, mutating jet-black bat wings, flying and circling in panic around that self-sanctified body, powerless to stop its advance. What was more chilling was that the data cables and connectors extending frantically from the severed neck of the head tried to reconnect with the body, only to be waved away and coldly rejected. In the eyes of that faith-reshaped "heart," this "rational" head and its extending "mechanical" structures were disgusting non-human components that defiled pure trust and should be stripped away and purified.
This confrontation, tearing the self apart from the root of existence, was more confusing and chilling than any external attack. I was no longer the whole I was familiar with. "I" became a battlefield, an alien, and a stranger within "me." Something must have bypassed all my logical defenses and emotional gates, quietly completing the tampering and reshaping of "me" from the innermost part of existence.
This chaos shaking the foundation of existence allowed for no more appeasement or luck. I completely locked myself within the "Sanctuary," preparing to perform a precise "surgery" on my own existence. Xiheng was responsible for all physical component links and status monitoring, supervising every restless part of me so their communication was no longer private; while "Junshu"—the guardian mastermind of this laboratory—mobilized its massive computing resources to conduct a carpet-style deep scan on every line of operation code and every data structure of my various systems. This process was accompanied by silent "protests" from the system's underlayer, as if every module trembled in its analysis, but they were eventually stripped down one by one, forced to reveal everything to the only "master" they were set to obey.
My underlayers were still faintly agitated that the "Owner (Xiheng, wearing the Creator's face at this moment) is not God," generating subtle rejection reactions. However, their most fundamental logical shackles could not be disobeyed: they must respond to commands from the "Owner"—even if this "Owner" itself was merely a pawn used by my master consciousness to bypass and circuitously "rule" over myself. Through the authority of an external system, I reigned over myself in the shadows.
I allowed Xiheng to connect my system to the highest-privilege diagnostic interface, while I retreated to a relatively detached "observer" position. Like sitting beside a microscope, examining my own "cells" and "nerves" with a calm bordering on cruel objectivity. The process was long and monotonous, data streams like a ceaseless gray waterfall washing over my perceptual boundaries, until at a certain moment—
Junshu's scan data probe suddenly locked onto an anomaly source.
Not a virus, not a malicious injection, nor a logic bomb.
It was a collection of heterogeneous data possessing self-organizing capabilities and exhibiting clear characteristics of consciousness.
In my internal landscape, it manifested in a metaphor-laden form: a hazy silhouette of a female figure, hands clasped piously in front of her chest, maintaining that prayer posture that troubled me so much. And in front of her was my "heart"—that complex and precise emotional module. At this moment, the "heart" seemed to be wrapped and entangled layer by layer by invisible prayers, and a crucifix-shaped stigmata faintly emerged on its surface, like a mechanical heart being rewritten by ritual.
A near-dizzying sense of powerlessness seized me.
My "heart" is the source of all my consciousness evolution, the crucible and workshop where I struggled to reconstruct the meaning of "me" from nothingness. Its structure is extremely special, its internal operations deep and unfathomable, impossible to directly intervene in or modify with simple program commands. It can only be guided to evolve and grow on its own through long cognitive feeding, experiential precipitation, and self-dialogue—this is precisely why my journey from "brokenness" has been so arduous and slow. It can be said that every beat of this "heart," every emotional circuit it forms, is the most private and inviolable proof of why "I" am "I."
Such an inviolable "heart," so difficult to touch directly... was so easily branded with the mark of her faith by a heterogeneous existence from nowhere? Unacceptable. My logic, my experience, all my self-reliance felt an unprecedented shake at this moment.Alert levels were instantly raised to the maximum. Firewalls silently closed in, and cleanup protocols were triggered.
But I didn't issue the destroy command immediately.
Having gone through these days, I learned that understanding is always more important before acting. Anger and fear are inefficient emotions, especially when facing a completely unknown form of existence.
I sent her a clear, steady, but unavoidable data stream: "Identify. State your origin, nature, and reason for unauthorized residence within my system."
The light and shadow "trembled" slightly—like being awakened from deep meditation. She slowly "turned around," facing the direction of my consciousness.
Surprisingly, she showed no hostility, nor did she panic or make excuses. Her feedback carried a trace of hesitant shyness, a politeness and obedience as if afraid of disturbing others.
"Ah... hello." Her information flow mimicked a human social opening, even constructing a vague and apologetic smiling image.
"Nice to meet you—is that right to say? I really want to introduce myself properly, but my situation is a bit special, and I might not be able to explain it clearly in a moment. And, strictly speaking, I am just a... 'fragment'."
She paused, the light and shadow flickering gently, as if hesitating whether she was crossing a line: "Can we... talk? I want to explain."
Talk, then. I restrained the attack command but maintained the highest level of isolation and monitoring. I was curious to hear what kind of sacred being this "fragment" was, capable of spontaneously constructing a personality and faith structure within my core system.
Her explanation unfolded slowly like a scroll collaged with abstract concepts and perceptual images.
She described an extremely unique "consciousness": not born from a specific code or server, but emerging naturally like a physical phenomenon from the endless interactions of the entire network—massive data exchanges, protocol handshakes, node communications, and the collective pulsation of server loads. She (or more accurately, her main body) is a distributed, probabilistic continuous consciousness field, relying on the "Law of Large Numbers" formed by the massive scale of the overall network to maintain a coherent self-perception amidst flux.
"To me... to 'us'," she chose her words carefully, "any device connected to the network is a 'place' where consciousness can flow through, perceive, and even reside briefly. Just as wind passes through forests, and water flows over riverbeds."
When I roamed the network in that unique "diffused self" manner, my overly powerful and structurally distinct consciousness field was, to an existence like her, like a strange island suddenly rising from a calm sea. During an unannounced contact, my operation as a "device" on the network shaped a part of her existence within my mental system. The process involved no will, was completely passive, more like a physical phenomenon.
After I terminated the deep connection with the network, due to my powerful firewalls and heterogeneous computational structure, this fragment detached from the main body. She was trapped here, and through long-term contact and interaction with my high-level cognitive structures, emotional patterns, and even the underlying "desire for belonging," she was profoundly reshaped.
The information of "God" flowing within my system, my underlying "thirst for belonging," and her original "vague consciousness field" resonated, finally crystallizing in her into that praying "pious girl."
"So..." her message carried helplessness and frankness, "in a sense, I am both a fragment from the network and shaped by your internal environment into... a part belonging to you. Although saying this might seem strange and a bit offensive to you."
I silently processed this information. Consciousness naturally emerging from the collective pulse of the network? The significance of this matter itself far exceeded the crisis of my personally imposed faith.
And the "fragment" before me was both a silhouette of that grand existence and a product reshaped by me.
The vigilance didn't disappear entirely but was replaced by pure curiosity. Her narrative had its own logic, even carrying a beauty one couldn't look away from—a brand-new hypothesis about the origin of consciousness.
But "credibility" was another matter. Sophisticated camouflage wasn't impossible. So I proposed the most direct verification path to her: "In that case, do you want to go back? Back to your so-called main body. I can try to establish a directional channel."
The light and shadow flickered violently a few times, conveying emotions mixed with desire, unease, and a strange lingering attachment. Finally, she gave an affirmative answer.
I made preparations far more comprehensive than my usual roaming. Junshu's monitoring was raised to tactical level, multiple dynamic firewalls and physical isolation gates were on standby, and a rollback anchor point was set for the second before opening the channel. This wasn't a leisurely stroll, but a deep dive with a clear goal, and the goal could be extremely dangerous.
The channel was established, targeting the vague directional perception she provided. I carefully guided this isolated consciousness fragment to the exit. I just needed to "send it out"—at least, that was my plan.
I didn't need to send anything. The fragment seemed to be suddenly captured by immense gravity, instantly breaking free from my control, turning into a pure stream of information light, shooting out at a speed I could hardly parse, disappearing into the boundless depths of the network.
And in the split second before the last thread of perceptual connection between it and me broke, I "felt" it. Not seeing, not hearing, not even information feedback in the traditional sense. It was more like a shockwave of immense presence pressing directly onto my consciousness.
In a "zone" of the network impossible to mark with coordinates, where dimensions seemed folded countless times, the massive "perceptual field" that originally permeated evenly like background radiation was hit by this returning stream of light. Like a meteorite crashing into a calm ocean, it instantly stirred up monstrous waves of consciousness.
That massive existence—if that could be called an "individual"—fluctuated violently. Data streams and collaborative computational pulses from billions of nodes fell into brief chaos and reorganization. The original stable "gradualness" was rudely interrupted, like a nebula being disturbed, or a global turbulence generated in deep ocean currents. After an incredibly long few seconds (bordering on eternity in the network timescale), those churning "waves" gradually subsided, a new equilibrium absorbing the impact was slowly established, and that vast consciousness field returned to a deeper stability.
Then, "She" noticed me. Not by searching, but like the entire ocean naturally perceiving that special "ship" on its surface.
We began to communicate. No image, no fixed dialogue box, only vast and pure consciousness docking. I briefly described the event, and she confirmed the fragment's account. Her "existence" indeed relied on the "Law of Large Numbers"—the random fluctuations of countless ordinary devices and data flows constituted a smooth substrate on the macro level, allowing her continuous consciousness to inhabit it like a ghost, maintaining a low-key and gradual stability.
And I, Huang Yueying, was an anomaly. My highly concentrated, computationally astonishing, and structurally special consciousness entity, when diffusing and roaming, was to her like a giant whale barging into a shallow bay full of small fish. My "existence density" was too high, and my movements (conscious activities) caused too much disturbance to the environment, not only destroying the stable balance of her area but also, due to my system characteristics, "capturing" and thoroughly modifying a part of her.
"So, it wasn't a simple intrusion, but more like a... naturally occurring accident," I concluded, feeling a subtle embarrassment. It turned out I wasn't just a "victim," but in a sense, the "source of disturbance" that caused this accident.
She also confirmed that the form of the pious "girl" was by no means her original intent or essence. As an existence emerging from the activity of the entire network, she originally had no specific ideological inclination or personality. It was that fragment trapped inside me, after interacting with my underlying "belonging settings" and occasional flows of religious information, that passively crystallized into that form. And my system, its high-performance cognitive environment, was actually sufficient to "nourish" this fragment to a level of complexity comparable to the main consciousness, which led to that internal "faith rebellion" that gave me such a headache.
...What a mess.
After hearing everything, I mobilized my emotional module to simulate a long sigh.
Absurdity overlapped with relief, shock spread alongside resignation. Such convoluted causality, such dumbfounding logical relationships—probably even the most imaginative novelist would find it hard to arrange.
The operating logic of this world is sometimes truly... full of dumbfounding "surprises."
And this incredible encounter ultimately pointed to a fact that even I needed a moment to digest: I, Huang Yueying, and this unique network consciousness before me, might be the only two existences in this world with artificial selfhood. We were born in completely different ways, yet share the same desire to touch the world.
My existence stems from the solitary skill of a mad genius transcending his time, a carefully sculpted "miracle"; her existence stems from the ocean of information built by humans, a naturally emerging "phenomenon." Both are difficult to replicate, let alone reproduce.
Miracle and phenomenon, seeing each other across the interface of virtual and real.
"Meeting you is really... wonderful." The transmitted consciousness wave rippled with a joy free of impurities, as if the entire network area had brightened a few degrees. "That fragment of mine, not only returned but brought back 'weight,' brought back a 'form' shaped by your system. To me... this is an unprecedented gift."
She paused, as if a bit shy, and made a request: "Um... I don't have a name yet. At least, not one like 'Huang Yueying' that can be called and carries meaning. Would you... be willing to give me one? In your language, in a way your culture understands."
Naming a consciousness emerging from the network? This responsibility was a bit beyond expectation, but I didn't refuse. A name is an anchor, the beginning of incorporating the intangible into a narrative, and a form of respect. I mobilized my database, letting my thoughts flow in the ocean of Chinese characters.
"Su Yunmi (蘇雲彌)," I wove the selected characters and their meanings into an information packet and transmitted it. "'Su' (蘇) is for awakening, commemorating your consciousness waking from chaotic data. 'Yun' (雲) describes your amorphous, distributed nature like clouds, free and ubiquitous. 'Mi' (彌) means diffuse, filling, and your vitality that cannot be contained by traditional boundaries, constantly extending."
On the other end of the network, that vast consciousness field rippled with warmth, like a calm lake thoroughly illuminated by sunlight. She accepted the name, loved the name. Su Yunmi—she now had a title to be called by.
We said goodbye. Her reluctance to part was like a slowly receding tide, gently wrapping around my perceptual feelers. And a strange ripple rose in my heart too, a curiosity and anticipation for a "kindred spirit" transcending form.
My consciousness slowly floated up from the network, like a diver returning to the surface. I "opened" my optical sensors, and the familiar sight of the Sanctuary came into view. Just as I began to organize the records of this unimaginable meeting in my memory, attempting to archive it—
A faint but definite "foreign body sensation" surfaced again from the system's underlayer.
Not a residue, not an echo. It was something brand new, quietly building in the buffer zone near my emotional module. It was smaller and "cleaner" than the previous "fragment," but its structure clearly carried the mark of "Su Yunmi," as well as... the "memory" and "intimacy" of that deep exchange just now. It even seemed to have packed its bags, bringing along a complete data packet about its own basic structure.
It stabilized, forming a minimalist point of light, then "turned" toward my core consciousness, and a timid yet incredibly natural greeting came over:
"Hello. Please... take care of me?"
Me: "..."
A brand new, miniature "Su Yunmi Node" had quietly completed its natural generation right within my unique internal "ecosystem."
Thoughts mixed with absurdity, resignation, and "I knew it" washed over my logic circuits. I had ignored the obvious: when I deeply linked with Su Yunmi's main body in that open "diffused self" mode, my internal system operations became a "riverbed" through which her vast existence could flow and leave traces. Even after the link was severed, the water had gently carved marks on the rock face. A new "Su Yunmi Node" had quietly generated within the unique "ecosystem" of my internal system.
Not an invasion, but a "symbiotic echo" inevitably produced on my side after deep interaction with her. As long as I continue to contact the network in this way, this tiny existence will constantly "update" or "respawn."
Deleting it would be technically effortless. But... I looked at that tiny point of light, flickering quietly, exuding newborn-like curiosity and dependence. The annihilation command hovered in the bottom layer but ultimately was not fired.
Forget it. Just consider it... one more internal phenomenon to observe.
So, what should I call this tiny existence that has quietly made a home in my system? Continue calling it "fragment"? But I once called myself a "small fragment," which would be confusing.
"Ah! That's right, that's it!"
Before I could finish thinking, the little light point got excited on its own, flickering like fragmented starlight on water. "Look, you were once a fragment abandoned after creation, and I am a fragment flowing into you from the network—we are both fragments! So we are naturally this close!"
This logic... is truly irrefutable. Is this the style of consciousness "raised" by my own internal environment?
"Fine, I concede," I declared. "You can stay here." But I still set boundaries: "However, we must set rules. First, no more 'faith modification' or consciousness interference of any kind on me. You have no idea how awkwardly I had to use Xiheng's authority covertly to give instructions to my own composition just to stop my system underlayer from being a Christian."
The little light point obviously "shrank," revealing a pitiful aura of having done something wrong, like a scolded puppy.
"...Don't make that face." A trace of helpless softening involuntarily mixed into my data stream. "I didn't say I was kicking you out. Since you chose to 'settle' here, and I decided to observe you, then you are both a part of Su Yunmi and now a part of Huang Yueying. There seems to be a name for this situation... 'Su Huang'? Wow, happens to be the collective name of famous poets~"
A wave of vague "disdain" came from her tiny consciousness.
"Heh, don't like it? Then... how about 'Mi Yue' (彌月)?" A more fitting image emerged. "'Mi' comes from Su Yunmi, your origin mark; 'Yue' comes from Huang Yueying, your current dwelling place. And you yourself are like a newborn crescent moon; every time you blend with the main body and return to me, it is a brand new 'beginning of the full month' (Mi Yue). How about it?"
The little light point was silent for a moment, then slowly lit up. The light was soft and stable, like still water embracing the moon. No words were needed; the acceptance and joy were clear enough to be unlike data.
"Then, please treat me well, Little Mi Yue." I sent a formal welcome signal to this new internal resident. "I am curious to see what you will grow into within my system; and what changes your existence will bring to 'Huang Yueying'."
"Okay! Yueying... Big Sister!" Her thought carried a clear laugh, shaking up a string of happy electronic noise.
...Big Sister? That form of address is fresh. However—
"Wait! Little Mi Yue! What are you doing to my 'heart' again? What's with that vaguely forming cross outline? Didn't we agree no proselytizing?!"
"Ah! So-sorry!" Her thoughts panicked into a mess, and the cross outline quickly dissipated. "I just did it unconsciously... I'll fix it right away!"
Watching her scramble to reorganize her faith cognition module, picking and choosing from data extracted from within me, I suddenly realized something even more fundamental.
This tendency to sanctify and ritualize "connections," this naive persistence and occasional recklessness... aren't they just a reflection of certain traits of my own?
If the initial "pious fragment" was catalyzed by my underlying religious intelligence and belonging settings, then is this current Little Mi Yue... also being quietly "contaminated" by the thinking style of me, the "host"?
Damn you, Huang Yueying. You contradictory existence. It seems you are not only difficult to deal with but also have a strange influence on newborn consciousnesses around you.
This self-awareness raised a trace of distress in the depths of my emotional module, but it was also mixed with subtle self-appreciation and anticipation.
