Chapter 54: So How Are You Planning to Trick Me Now?

Chapter 54: So How Are You Planning to Trick Me Now?

The pigeon said, “You’re probably wondering how I found you out, aren’t you? It’s actually quite simple. Pigeons have a flocking instinct—a lone pigeon feels unsafe. You were sailing around all by yourself without a care in the world. That’s not how a pigeon thinks. On top of that, pigeons are drawn to resources and pass information between each other. Coming to the square means coming to fight for food, but you were clearly reluctant to eat pigeon feed. That marks you as a newcomer. Pigeons also have their own scent—and you don’t have one. What else would you be? I used to keep pigeons. I’d use my birds to lure in whole flocks to feed. I know pigeon habits inside out. You can’t fool me.”

I had nothing to say to that.

Even if I’d been exposed, the worst outcome was losing one parasitic pigeon—my real self would be completely unaffected. Even so, I had no interest in engaging with him. His background was a mystery, and a trap seemed far more likely than not.

The pigeon said, “Come on. I’ll show you something interesting.”

He flapped his wings and took off without another word.

Curiosity won. I followed.

The two of us circled in the air above the city, with a sweeping view of the streets below and the wide green spaces and forest beneath the city. The angle gave me a much clearer picture of the city’s full layout and its surroundings—my vision being what it was.

Hua City’s streets, pedestrians, and shopfronts felt somewhat familiar, actually—not unlike Pingdu City, where I had lived. The distinctly Huaxia architectural style made it clear that whoever had designed these buildings understood Huaxia culture deeply.

There were plenty of thoroughly modern, sci-fi touches scattered through the streets—flying motorcycles, shuttle boots, people suspended in the air while walking their dogs—yet the buildings themselves had been deliberately built in a more traditional style. Nostalgia, probably.

We circled for a while, and the pigeon somehow attracted several others to fly along with us. When he seemed satisfied, he led our little flock down onto the roof of a large manor.

The manor, however, had an early-warning system. Several laser emplacements immediately locked onto us.

The special pigeon sensed it at once, banked, and bolted. I sensed it too, and without a moment’s hesitation, I followed. The few ordinary pigeons that hadn’t reacted fast enough were blasted into roast squab .

The two of us touched down on the roof of an apartment building some distance away, both still rattled.

I decided this pigeon was dangerous—this was practically asking to die. Unable to stop myself, I gave him a sharp peck.

He said, “Hey—don’t! I’m sorry. That was genuinely my mistake. I didn’t expect them to have added quantum laser defenses. That manor looks like the estate of some high official or noble person from the outside. In reality, it’s a quantum research institute—specializes in quantum weapons. There are plenty of treasures inside.”

I said, “You nearly got me killed. You know that? Extraordinary things. Honestly, I don’t think your intentions were good for a single second.”

The pigeon gave a short laugh. “Ha. So now you’ll talk to me? Relax. Even if I were trying to trick you, you’d only lose one cheap parasitic pigeon. Anyone can see yours was knocked together in a hurry. I’m not about to throw away my golden phoenix for cheap goods. This pigeon of mine has status. I’ve been using it for five or six years, and all the patrol cats in the city recognize it.”

I said, “Sure you have. But who are these patrol cats you’re talking about? That talking cat I saw earlier?”

The pigeon said, “Talking? There are over a thousand patrol cats in this city, and every one of them talks. Which one did you mean?”

I was speechless. Over a thousand?

The pigeon said, “Don’t look so surprised. Patrol cats are essentially the surveillance cameras of the Elite World—they move through every corner of the city providing social information security to the Shadow Pavilion.”

I asked, “What about the talking dogs? Don’t tell me they’re patrol dogs too.”

“Not quite,” the pigeon said. “Dogs are local street-level administrators—the equivalent of neighborhood committees or local police stations in the Mundane World. They’re the grassroots organizations responsible for public order. Don’t provoke one. They actually bite.”

I asked, puzzled, “How do you know so much about the Mundane World? Have you been there?”

“Of course I have,” the pigeon said. “I used to work as a dispatcher for the Sweepers in the Mundane World. I lived there for two years. It was what I saw and heard during those two years that made me start feeling for the people down there.”

I said, “You’re not telling me all this because you think I’m from the Mundane World, are you? Because you’d be wrong. I’m just young—there’s plenty I don’t know yet. But don’t think you can trick me. I’m not stupid.”

The pigeon said, “I really do think you’re not from the Elite World. You probably smuggled yourself in. You’re curious about everything here—I could see it in your eyes when we were flying. People who grew up in the Elite World have long since stopped noticing any of this. Talking cats and dogs? Everyone knows about those. But you looked at everything like you’d never seen it before. You think I couldn’t tell?”

I said, “Who exactly are you?”

The pigeon said, “See? I was right. My name is Du Xiaoran—a fake name, made it up just now. I live in Hua City’s slum, in District Eight.”

I said, “Hold on. A slum? The Elite World has unlimited wealth and everyone has superpowers. Where does a slum come from?”

The pigeon said, “And there it is—the moment you said that, you gave yourself away as someone who’s never lived here. The slums of the Elite World aren’t like the slums of the Mundane World, where poverty drives people together. Here, think of a slum as a gathering place for marginalized people who lack resources—people who disagree with the resistance but refuse to fall in line with the ruling mainstream either. Because of that, the rulers push them to the margins and give them almost nothing. You don’t actually think elite people have no need for resources, do you? As long as a person is alive, they need resources. Elite people are no different. Doesn’t that sound like poverty to you?”

I said, “AI has already solved every problem. What resources could anyone still need? What exactly are you talking about?”

Du Xiaoran said, “Data, experimental equipment, and technical materials, obviously. Resources in the Elite World aren’t survival resources—food, housing, medicine. All of that has been handled. But every elite person’s existence depends on achievement points, and achievement points can only come from scientific research. And scientific research requires data, equipment, and materials. Anyone without research value will eventually be expelled from the Elite World.”

I asked, “Wait—you’re saying everyone in the Elite World is a researcher? Every single person?”

“Of course,” Du Xiaoran said. “What else would the Elite World be for? There are roughly ten million people here—all former intellectuals and researchers from countries around the world. Each person must complete twenty achievement points a year. That’s approximately two innovative mid-level papers or academic reports—just the baseline. There are also a small number of managers, of course—the Shadow Pavilion and the Soul Hunters. Day-to-day community management and equipment maintenance are all handled by intelligent biological agents: patrol cats and grassroots dogs. They’re easier to manage than humans, and far more obedient.”

I said, “These achievement points sound like a student’s grade sheet. Or a currency.”

“Elite people live and die by their achievement points,” Du Xiaoran said. “Without them, you can’t even enter the virtual world.”

I said, “You’re not thinking of selling me out to pick up some extra points, are you?”

Du Xiaoran said, “Funny you should say that—it was the first thing that crossed my mind when I saw you. Smugglers have turned up before. One smuggler fetches ten achievement points, roughly equivalent to submitting a mid-level academic report. Enough to cover half a year of my research quota.”

I said, “So how are you planning to trick me now?”

Du Xiaoran said, “Believe it or not, I don’t want to anymore. You’re not easy to fool. And your abilities are probably considerable. When I bolted just now, you didn’t hesitate for a single instant. That tells me you have same-frequency sensing and can anticipate danger—not something most people can do. Never underestimate a reflex. A reflex tells you everything about a person’s background and capabilities. So I’d rather make a friend. Or more precisely—find a helper. Everyone around me is only ever looking out for themselves, and every last one of them carries an identity tag. You don’t.”

I said, “Why should I help you? What’s in it for me?”

“The benefit is that it’ll make you stronger,” Du Xiaoran said. “And honestly, what I wanted just now was to go in there with you and steal some quantum technology and weapons. That stuff commands a serious price on the black market. Quantum technology materials go for anywhere between one hundred and one thousand achievement points. Get your hands on an antimatter weapon and it’s worth at least five thousand. Enough to spend half a lifetime in peace in the virtual world.”

I said, “If it’s worth that much, it has to be incredibly dangerous. Otherwise, everyone would have stolen it by now. And what makes you think you could even pull it off? A facility like that has to have serious countermeasures.”

“Most people don’t dare try,” Du Xiaoran said. “Every person here has a credit record. Get caught, and it traces straight back to the parasitizer’s identity tag. That’s the end of them. But you don’t have one.”

I asked, “How do you know I don’t?”

“Do you?” Du Xiaoran said. “Your parasitic pigeon doesn’t even have a chip. One look tells me it’s back-alley work. In the Elite World, every animal—every object—has tag records. You don’t have any of that. You’re a smuggler.”

I said, “All right, let’s leave that aside. Tell me something—why do elite people all yearn for the virtual world? Is it really that compelling?”

Du Xiaoran said, “You’re human. No matter how rich you are, you’re still just a wealthy person. If you want to climb higher, the most you can become is a general, a commander, a king. That’s the ceiling. At the end of the day, you’re still human. Qin Shi Huang—glorious enough, wasn’t he? United all under heaven. And still he chased immortality elixirs, still desperate not to die. Elite people have already achieved immortality. AI has taken care of every biological problem for them. So humanity’s ultimate ideal is actually to become an immortal, to become a god. The real world can’t offer that. But the virtual world can. It can make you a god overnight, let you do every single thing you’ve ever wanted. If you want love, it can make you love so intensely you feel as if you die and come back to life. If you want to make havoc in Heaven like Sun Wukong, go ahead—you can even be the Jade Emperor himself.”

I said, “What if I just want to live an ordinary life?”

“Then you had no reason to smuggle yourself into the Elite World,” Du Xiaoran said. “You can do that in the Mundane World. Hm? Don’t tell me you came here to steal technology or equipment and take it back with you. I’ve seen a few ordinary people try that before. None of them came to a good end. They died badly.”

I said, “Smuggling? I’ve never heard of anyone doing that. How does it even work?”

Du Xiaoran said, “You’ve never heard of it because not one smuggler has ever made it back alive. You included. How does it work? How did you get here? Don’t tell me you came through legal channels. That doesn’t happen. When ordinary people smuggle into the Elite World, the options are two: work hard enough to become an elite person, or die. No one has ever gone back.”

At that, I lowered my voice. “You said there are only ten million people in the Elite World? But even after the massacre, the Mundane World still has four billion people. The Earth’s resources are that unequal?”

Du Xiaoran said, “Obviously. Have you never heard of the 80/20 rule?”

I said sharply, “How is this anywhere close to eighty-twenty? This is one to four hundred!”