1.13 Existence Is the Foundation of All Things

The second-ranked player commission was an immersive exploration of a fragmented storyline.

It required using the client’s exclusive vehicle to enter a specific story fragment, complete the exploration, and return successfully. The reward: 69 currency units plus a Tidal Type-II tablet.

Generally, a Type-II tablet is slightly smaller than a Type-III and is mostly used for assembling main (table) boards. The Tidal Type-II tablet is suited for water parks, tidal power generation, aquaculture, seawater desalination, and other multifunctional modules. Especially aquaculture, which can solve players’ food supply needs. Moreover, the “Universal Database Elite Edition” compatible with Cotel Vetris contains detailed aquaculture data. Simply completing the story exploration to obtain the Tidal tablet means seafood feasts every meal—no longer a dream.

Due to its practicality, the Tidal Type-II tablet was priced at 20 currency units in the camp’s market. In other words, if Wu Chen was willing to act as a test subject for veteran players, he could earn 89 currency units.

“Complete the exploration and return successfully.” The commission description contained only this line, surely hiding some mystery. Whether one could come back was uncertain.

The remaining tasks listed by the intelligence core each had their difficulties, and their rewards were mediocre, far less than the top two. After consulting Bai Liyan and others, Wu Chen contacted the client ranked second.

“Hello.” The voice sounded young. Of course, as a VIP player in the shelter, age was meaningless.

“Hello,” Wu Chen introduced himself. “I’m 0326. I’d like to inquire about the commission.”

“Oh, oh! I’m 0716.” The client immediately grew enthusiastic. “Here’s the thing: the ‘story fragment’ you need to explore derives from my exclusive main world...”

Wu Chen listened quietly. After grasping the gist, he asked, “World attributes?”

“My former main world was obviously sci-fi. You can rest assured on that.” Although the main world was sci-fi, derivative worlds might not be, but they wouldn’t differ too much. The client implied that sci-fi players need not worry about compatibility penalties. Like parent directory permissions inherited by subdirectories, the rules of a sci-fi main world would be backward compatible with derivative worlds and even story fragments.

“How long will it take?” Wu Chen wanted to understand more.

“About 15 minutes.” The client was candid. The so-called 15 minutes referred to Broken City time. The timeline might not match that of the story fragment. Like time travel, spending a year in the fragment could be just 15 minutes in Broken City. Wu Chen, as a player, was already accustomed to this.

“Fifteen minutes of exploration for such a generous reward,” Wu Chen said noncommittally.

Sensing Wu Chen’s doubts, the client added, “You must complete the exploration and return successfully for it to count.”

“What are the dangers?”

“A slight misstep could cause the storyline to shatter completely, even vanish.” The client was not exaggerating.

“Not guaranteed to return,” Wu Chen understood.

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Wu Chen prepared to end the call.

“Will you take it?” the client asked cautiously.

“I’ll think about it.” Wu Chen ended the call.

“Master, the risks are uncontrollable,” the AI assistant Aiyi reminded him promptly.

“I know.” Wu Chen asked again, “How much shelter currency remains?”

“134 units.” Aiyi was an excellent steward.

“Got it.” Wu Chen felt a bit more at ease. As for why the red phone booth could mint currency on its own, he put that aside for now. Existence was the premise of everything. First, survive well.

After sending Bai Liyan and others off, Wu Chen went down to the garage on the first floor. Aiyi was controlling a drone performing routine maintenance on the AE86. Cotel Vetris was a bio-robot whose energy came from edible nourishment. Though the nutrient solution tasted unpleasant, it was extremely efficient and her staple food. The nutrient solution synthesizer was an indispensable part of the tablet-base’s self-sustaining system. As Wu Chen’s first card upon arriving in Broken City, the specific benefits from Cotel Vetris had yet to manifest.

Yet, inexplicably, Wu Chen’s innate attribute—Omega Brainwave Network—had been successfully awakened. As electronic devices increased, this trait would become increasingly obvious.

Sitting in the AE86’s cockpit, closing the door, the world outside was utterly silent. The persistent noise that followed him was completely blocked out. Wu Chen opened the glove compartment and took out an emergency medical kit to examine it carefully.

The capsule was silver-white all over, circled at the waist by a red stripe, and scanned by Aiyi as containing unknown metallic elements—clearly not medicine. Its exact purpose remained a mystery to Wu Chen. There was also an injection syringe, an advanced biochemical agent that Aiyi could not identify. Its specific effects awaited further research. The only known fact was that it was a creation from New Hong Kong, undoubtedly extraordinary.

“Any findings on the medical kit’s function?” Wu Chen carefully returned the kit to the glove compartment.

“Preliminary judgment: the capsule is for machinery, while the drug is for biological use.” The central control screen lit up quietly; the intelligence core was omnipresent.

“Noted.” Wu Chen committed this to memory.

“Has the master decided?” the AI asked softly.

“Not yet.” Wu Chen was still weighing which commission to accept first.

“Since carrying Cotel Vetris out of the phone booth, the master’s bio-electromagnetic field has significantly strengthened,” the AI offered kindly. “The peak has already surpassed that of an ordinary human.” This referred to Wu Chen’s emerging Omega brainwaves.

“So, your suggestion is?”

“Deep involvement in player events might be the catalyst to awaken and continuously strengthen the master’s innate talents.” Based on existing data, the AI gave its advice.

“Understood.” Wu Chen instantly grasped the AI’s implication. A little wealth was peace of mind but not a long-term plan. Moreover, the daily consumption of one currency unit only supported 134 shelter days. The camp’s sweeping day every twelve days was shrouded in secrecy; public information was scarce—clearly not ordinary. Wu Chen needed to plan ahead. Shelter currency, as the essential resource for continued existence, was best accumulated in abundance.

Even though he had lost most memories of the shelter, as a veteran lord-level player, Wu Chen’s instincts about danger remained intact. The many commissions published by camp players had already been pre-selected by Aiyi. Considering tolerable risks, the storyline exploration commission posted by player 0716 seemed most suitable.

Upon completion, the 69 currency units plus the Tidal Type-II tablet were a generous reward Wu Chen could hardly refuse at this time.

Wu Chen instructed the AI to take full charge of communication with 0716 via email, thoroughly inquiring about mission details and minimizing risks before accepting the commission. Leaving the cockpit, Wu Chen re-entered the phone booth. When he had just scanned the card, Bai Liyan and the others tried to crowd around to watch but were kept outside. Aiyi confirmed that only Wu Chen had “access permission” for the phone booth.

In other words, the red phone booth was definitely Wu Chen’s exclusive shelter creation—most likely a partial archive of his personal shelter. Why it was bound to the AE86 car key remained unknown. After all, entering Broken City was difficult at the start. Many rules required firsthand experience to comprehend.

“How to eject the card?” Wu Chen tried to lift the handset, but there was no response. Unlike coin-operated phones with separate coin insertion and return slots, this phone only had one card reader. The old-fashioned screen couldn’t interact.

Trying to figure it out in vain, Wu Chen took out a campus card and tried inserting it.

Repeated insertions inevitably caused errors. The reader would spit out the campus card, and the old screen displayed a prompt: “Press # to return.”

Wu Chen sighed silently.

Pressing # did nothing. He picked up the handset, pressed # again.

The familiar card reading sound rang out once more. To Wu Chen’s relief, the cocktail waitress’s two-star card was slowly ejected. The front of the card remained unchanged, but the back was now stamped with Wu Chen’s exclusive mark. Just as he was about to examine it carefully, his fingertip slipped, and the card flew out on its own, sticking firmly to the glass wall behind the phone booth—like a small advertisement.

It was said that old public phone booths often had similar flyers: “Wealthy ladies seeking children,” “Beautiful women offering services.”

Placed here, it did not seem out of place.

Whether “wealthy ladies seeking children” or “beautiful women offering services,” the waitress on the card seemed quite fitting either way.