Chapter 42 · The Rust-Furnace Dilemma, Faith Begins to Crack
Section I · Under Frosting Steps, Doubt Awakens
At the base of the Cooling Tower—core structure of Lianyuan Commune in the southeast of Iron Valley—the air was thick with steam and rust. The temperature swing between day and night had reached its extreme. Forty meters above, along the rim of the corroded furnace, lines of cold-energy conduits snaked across the ground like petrified veins, buried beneath layers of char-black soil.
Maria stood beside Valve No. 8, wearing a tattered maintenance cap and a gray work coat. One hand held a welding pen; the other slowly twisted a corroded valve. The air reeked of residual coolant, the waste byproducts of the reactor that should have been cleared days ago but now clung stubbornly to the walls after three nights of neglect.
"You new?" A raspy voice broke the silence.
She didn't look up. "Temporary replacement. Two from the cleaning crew died yesterday. Someone had to step in."
The man grinned. "So they're even drafting women now? This commune's really falling apart."
Maria glanced at him. He was scarred, an old maintenance foreman known as D-219—"Old Bai." His cybernetic fingers twitched slightly as he adjusted the frequency, haunted perhaps by some lingering electric pulse.
"The converter itself is fine," Maria murmured. "It's the system that's lying to you. There's a five-point-six hertz delay upstream in heat exchange."
Old Bai frowned, silent for a few seconds. "You're not just another maintenance worker."
She said nothing, only tossed a tuning chip into his palm. "Test this. The system's reported frequency doesn't match real-time readings."
He caught it, eyes narrowing. Without another word, he turned toward the temporary monitoring screen, muttering under his breath:
"We've always trusted the system... but lately, we only dare trust ourselves."
Nearby, several workers argued around the third pressure relief valve—one insisting it was fixed, another refusing to press the start button.
"If something goes wrong, the whole commune will freeze solid."
"The system says it's clear. That's good enough."
"Good enough for who?"
"Do you have the guts not to believe it?"
Maria watched silently, her face calm, her eyes sharp as blades.
ARGUS whispered softly in her ear: [Group psychological threshold approaching × Technical contradictions surfacing] [Recommended phrase: 'The problem isn't that the system is wrong—it's that it no longer speaks.']
She lifted her gaze slowly toward the arguing repairmen and spoke clearly, cutting through the noise:
"The problem isn't that the system made a mistake."
All heads turned.
"It's that... it hasn't spoken a single word since."
In that moment, all fell silent.
Old Bai returned, pausing beside her.
"You're from ARGUS, aren't you?"
She met his gaze, replying quietly:
"You tell me—who do you want me to be?"
He was quiet for a long time before finally saying:
"I only know—we haven't slept in three days. No orders. No accountability. No one has said even one thing: 'You did right.'"
Maria nodded once, determination flickering in her eyes.
She knew this wasn't an operation. It was a slow infiltration of belief—not slogans, but the first time these people realized: their so-called stability was merely a bondage without promise.
She turned, heading toward the communication port beside the control panel. She tapped three times, paused one second, then four more.
ARGUS chimed: [Localized perception complete × Emotional shift established × Suggestion: Inject First Layer of Doubt] [Fuxi System philosophical sync — Zhouyi, Kan Trigram: 'Frost underfoot means firm ice ahead. Faith begins to crack.']
Maria whispered:
"All I need is for them to doubt… just once. Then this furnace will no longer belong to the system."
Section II · Chip Conflict, First Cracks Appear
Inside the small technical command post near the outer ring of the rust-furnace, a clean metal console bore a single sheet of copied data—a frequency adjustment chart. Workers gathered around in a semi-circle, eyes locked on the printout.
"Say again—where did you get this chip?" Controller Aites asked coldly, suspicion sharpening his tone.
"I calibrated it on-site," Maria replied evenly. "The furnace's waveform is unstable, yet the main system marks it as 'normal.' Tell me—do you think the furnace went mad, or the system simply stopped caring?"
Aites was one of Lianyuan's internal security liaisons, trained in the Northern Industrial Zone. He had a decent grasp of system tech. As he compared the chip's data, his expression darkened. He didn't trust Maria—but the numbers were real.
"I say," an elderly welder interrupted, half-eaten bread in hand, "is the system actually broken?"
"Don't talk nonsense," snapped a younger apprentice. "If anyone hears you, you'll end up in the 'Clarification Room.'"
Maria observed silently.
They weren't afraid of the truth—they'd simply learned to trade obedience for survival. But this furnace wasn't about ideology. It was about life and death.
"You can keep believing in the system if you want," she suddenly stood, her voice light but chilling. "But if this furnace explodes, none of you—believers or not—will walk away."
Her words landed like icy water.
Aites narrowed his eyes. "Then who are you?"
Maria lowered her head, pulling her cap lower. "System-authorized external engineer. Or, if you prefer—I'm someone sent by the system to question it."
Silence gripped the room.
That sentence was a paradox. Why would the system send someone to challenge itself? Who was she really—part of the system, or something else entirely?
"We need to report this," Aites said finally.
Maria countered smoothly: "What exactly would you report? That 'an outsider told the truth, and we need to deal with her'?"
A few technicians chuckled lightly. But Aites's face stiffened.
This wasn't rebellion—it was logic turned against itself. He couldn't determine whether she deserved reporting, nor could he admit what she said might be true. This was the first lock of the "Dual Fire":
"It's not about whether you are fire—but whether your words make others uncomfortable."
ARGUS chimed: [Field control complete × Core emotional reversal achieved] [Fuxi internal sync · Copernican Consciousness Collapse Node generated]
Maria said softly:
"I don't need you to believe me. I only need you to believe—you are allowed not to believe in the system."
As those words settled, a muffled sound came from outside the furnace. The pressure pipe shuddered twice. The furnace groaned low for five seconds.
Someone whispered:
"She might be right."
Aites said nothing. He looked at Maria, and for the first time, there was not suspicion—but reluctant uncertainty in his eyes.
He understood:
Today, it wasn't that the system was wrong. It was that the system didn't show up at all.
And that absence—was the greatest betrayal.
Section III · Closed-Circuit Listening, Orders Beyond Orders
Night fell over the rust-furnace area. Curfew had begun across Lianyuan Commune, yet Furnace No. 8 still glowed orange-red. Maria leaned against the maintenance frame, wiping tools while listening to the aging broadcast spitting out fragmented technical reports.
Suddenly, she froze.
The same line repeated for the fourth time—"Line adjustment operation archived under code A-04. No further verification required."
That code had never appeared during the day. Maria remembered every system command. This wasn't standard protocol—it was an independent bypass.
Someone was sending covert signals via the internal network.
ARGUS whispered in her ear: [Listening channel activated × Internal autonomous signal × Presence of disguised command chain] [Suggested tactic: Initiate "low-stress dialogue" to trigger target to expose listening port] [Fuxi philosophical sync: Sunzi, Chapter on Emptiness and Fullness — "Tactics have no fixed form; adaptability defines victory."]
Maria casually picked up an old radio module, tuned it to sub-frequency, and plugged it into the power socket at the corner, pretending to continue debugging. Meanwhile, she tilted her welding torch, directing light into a blind spot near the ceiling camera.
Footsteps approached from behind.
"You're still here?"
It was Aites. He carried two insulated food boxes, handing one over. "Didn't want you to starve."
She accepted it, smiling faintly. "Thanks. Not part of the system's welfare plan, I assume."
"My own decision."
He sat down, lowering his voice slightly. "About today… I checked that chip. You were right."
Maria nodded calmly. "But you won't believe me because of that, will you?"
"I'm not sure who to believe anymore."
Maria looked at him steadily. "You used to believe in the system, didn't you?"
He didn't answer immediately. After a pause, he asked:
"Are you really from the system?"
Maria's gaze remained unchanged. "Would you prefer I were—or not?"
They stared at each other. Maria knew this wasn't accusation—it was testing.
At that moment, ARGUS whispered again: [Target initiated eavesdropping × Recording device simulated within food box base] [Suggested countermeasure: Trigger signal overload mechanism × Induce accidental activation] [Operation method: Tune to 35.1kHz × Keyword induction: "You wouldn't dream who they are."]
Maria smiled faintly:
"They fear you knowing who they are—even more than you dreaming it."
Aites's expression changed abruptly.
A soft pop came from the bottom of the food box—the low-voltage listener burned out.
He shot up. "What the hell did you do?"
"Nothing at all," Maria said calmly, packing her tools. "Your lunchbox just wasn't very reliable."
Aites's face shifted violently. He wanted to speak, but swallowed the words back.
As she left, Maria said quietly:
"I'm not your enemy. You think you're guarding order—but what you're really holding onto is a command that no one's receiving anymore."
She walked away without looking back.
Aites stared at her retreating figure, anger and confusion burning in his eyes. He no longer believed what he believed—and he knew he couldn't tell anyone what had happened tonight.
Because this meeting would never be recorded by the system.
Section IV · Those Not in the Records Are All Risks
Inside the internal control dispatch center of Lianyuan Commune, a green-tinged matrix terminal flickered with old-school waveform patterns. Night-shift data officer Artur leaned back in his chair, scanning today's operational summary. His eyelids were already heavy—until an automated system alert popped up:
[Work Zone: C-8; Role: External Maintenance Technician; Individual Code: MRY-X0701]
[Anomaly: No Dispatch Record / No Affiliated Unit / System Authorization Path Unidentified]
[Suggested Tag: Medium Risk × Recommend Delayed Reporting for Secondary Verification]
Artur sat upright instantly.
This wasn't a mere oversight—it was impossible for the system to allow an unregistered individual to operate within the core cold-energy layer all day without triggering alarms, lockdowns, or reports.
"This is bizarre," he muttered.
He had worked in internal control for five years and knew this couldn't be coincidence. The only explanation was that someone at a higher level had manually suppressed the data.
Instead of reporting immediately, he turned to another offline terminal and typed in a command long discouraged:
/RECALL → FIELD_SURV_TAGGING → UNFILED_PROFILES
Ten seconds later, a black-and-white pixelated facial recognition box appeared on screen. Blurry as it was, he recognized it—Maria.
He frowned, hovering the mouse over the "Anonymous Report" button, hesitating for a full thirty seconds.
At that moment, a voice from years ago echoed in his mind—the mentor's words from basic training:
"Don't try to judge who's a spy. Just judge whether they're in the records."
That day, he remembered not just that line—but the one that followed:
"All those not in the records… are risks."
So he clicked "Anonymous Forward," typing:
[Suspected identity forgery infiltrating Cold-Energy Sector. Behavior suspicious. Demonstrates anti-system identification capabilities. Potential implantation of external control modules. Recommend review.]
After sending, he shut down the terminal, removed the storage chip, and personally walked toward the sealed archive tower.
Meanwhile, outside the Cold-Energy Sector, security seals were quietly being reinforced.
—
Maria had just returned to her temporary rest cabin—a converted shipping container modified into a single-person bunk. The low-frequency vibration from outside seeped through the iron walls. She had barely taken off her coat when ARGUS chimed in her ear:
[Abnormal listening spike detected × Node focus: 87% × Recent speech trend analysis: "You're an outsider" × "You're not one of us"]
Maria remained still for three seconds.
She understood: it wasn't the system discovering her—it was the people, after the system's silence, activating their own exclusion mechanism.
That was the empire's cruelest trick:
"You think you're oppressed by the system—yet it's the oppressed who reject you first."
ARGUS continued: [Local meme trend escalating × Keywords: "The frequency went haywire after she came" / "Did she bring in an external virus?"]
[Recommendation: Hypothetical evacuation drill × Exit channel reserved × Keyword: "Cold zone isn't cold. Furnace not out."]
She sat on the edge of her bed, slowly removing her boots, and said firmly:
"I'm not leaving."
ARGUS paused briefly before replying: [Confirm forced stay × Risk level upgraded to "Group Activation / Single Point Termination"]
[Fuxi System Synchronization Reminder: "The masses are hard to oppose. But even harder to endure when they become fools." — Hanfeizi, On Difficulty in Persuasion]
Maria whispered in reply:
"I don't need them to understand. I only need… to make them start arguing."
As she finished speaking, faint footsteps approached the cabin door, accompanied by hushed, accented voices—
"Is it really her?"
"She questioned the system today."
"That's enough. Anyone who dares that must be mad."
Maria didn't move. She slid her hand subtly along her waist, activating the ARGUS sub-channel and linking it to the covert communication layer.
The screen flickered softly. Jason's voice came through:
"I see what you've done. You did well."
Maria lifted her head. "Has it begun?"
Jason's tone was calm, like water:
"It has. Let them brand you as fire."
Maria smiled slightly, replying:
"But I'm not fire."
"They don't know that."
"And I won't tell them."
—
ARGUS synchronized: [Meme infection efficiency triggered Level One Fracture Layer]
[Current Status: Internal information fragmentation within commune × Initial exclusion intensifying × True identity obscured]
Fuxi System quietly added one sentence:
"You don't need to light the fire. You only need to reveal the fear inside them—and they will burn themselves."
Section V · A Dead Command Is Still a Command
Outside the rust-furnace, at the fourth branch of the central control corridor—an area avoided even by most technical staff—a man in outsourced janitorial uniform was slipping into the underground tunnel.
He wasn't a maintenance worker. Nor was he a cleaner.
His name was Don Wesley, the second infiltration point arranged by Jason—officially a bottom-tier auditing subcontractor under the "System Backup Audit Group."
But his true mission was far more delicate:
Simulate a "system indifference malfunction," and through a feedback loop structure, disrupt the original emergency response chain.
In layman's terms—he was to make the system pretend it didn't see anything going wrong.
—
Deep in the tunnel, Don connected to the ARGUS channel and murmured:
"Initialize interference package."
ARGUS responded: [Module activated: System silence simulation × Alarm suppression × Feedback delay × Responsibility drift]
[Routing path: From dispatch node → Sensor interaction layer → Main control module disguised as 'low priority']
[Risk warning: This operation is "non-paralyzing intervention"—it creates selective neglect without destroying system integrity]
Don smirked softly:
"Let this system keep pretending to be deaf."
He inserted the data packet, and the miniature interference module began running. He knew what he was simulating was a smarter kind of crash—not system collapse, but deliberate non-response.
It was one of the tactics designed by Fuxi for Jason, known as:
"Avoidance Authority" Strategy: Make the system act as if it doesn't care, creating a vacuum of authority and forcing the people to make judgments on their own.
—
Meanwhile, Jason sat in a modified van, watching Don's progress on the monitor.
Beside him, Zhao Mingxuan reviewed the latest local meme analysis report while muttering:
"You're playing rough. You're not making the system lie—you're making it say nothing."
Jason's voice was flat:
"That's the real psychological warfare—let the system's silence become the judge, and let its own people begin to doubt it."
Zhao looked sideways. "Isn't this inciting chaos?"
"No," Jason replied, eyes fixed on the screen.
"It's the system that stepped out of the game first."
Lisa interjected:
"You mean… someone deliberately made the system stop responding?"
Jason nodded:
"The TRACE upper tier now follows a policy of 'localized abandonment.'"
He accessed Fuxi System and asked lightly:
"What do you think?"
Fuxi surfaced: [Analysis: TRACE Southern Directive has withdrawn to core industrial zones. Other communes marked as "strategic freeze zones"]
[Reason: High cost × Uncontrollable emotion index × Memetic contamination cannot be cleared × Priority lowered]
Zhao scoffed:
"So Lianyuan Commune… they've given up on it?"
Jason shook his head:
"Not abandoned. Ignored. And I'm going to use that logic to make them destroy their last thread of loyalty to the system."
—
ARGUS chimed softly: [Abnormal furnace pressure echo simulation about to activate × Suggestion: Guide target area into "failed fault notification → self-initiated rescue mechanism"]
[Fuxi reminder: Fire is not lit in oil, but in the heart. When the will is undecided, anger ignites itself.]
Jason's gaze was like a mirror.
"I only need one accident."
He uttered the final order, cold and precise:
"Let that cold-energy furnace… fail to breathe once."
Section VI · Fate Not Given, Fire That Lights Itself
At 4:13 AM, the eighth cold-energy furnace experienced its first irregular resonance. Vibrations pierced the furnace structure, triggering secondary vent harmonics. The tech hall lights flashed abruptly—but no emergency alerts sounded from the system terminal.
Everyone's first reaction wasn't panic—but to look at the system display.
There, the green label remained unchanged: Operation Stable.
"This can't be right."
"I was there! The furnace was shuddering! You tell me it's stable?"
Aites rushed to the main console, pounding the keys—no response.
No one received commands from above. No one dared initiate manual shutdown procedures. Because that required authorization.
And no one here even knew who held that authority anymore.
—
Chaos gripped the control room until Old Bai slammed his tool box onto the table and roared:
"The damn system ain't helping! If any of you want to live, check the temp waves yourselves!"
Silence fell briefly. Maria entered at that moment, tossing a hand-drawn thermal return map onto the table:
"Bypass the main circuit. Use the side bridge to connect the third reaction zone."
"Who authorized you?" a technician asked.
"No one." Maria gave a cold smile. "If you want to wait for orders, go ahead. But you're not afraid of the furnace blowing—you're scared of taking responsibility."
That struck deep.
—
Moments later, movement resumed.
People organized themselves. They debugged, called out readings, pulled cables.
No system prompts. No official dispatch. Not even supervisors dared interfere.
This wasn't rebellion. It was survival instinct erupting collectively.
—
ARGUS whispered in Maria's ear: [Emotion model upgrade × Group activation: First Layer of "Unordained Coordination"]
[Definition: When the system refuses action, groups coordinate instinctively to avoid crisis → Trust weight transfer]
[Fuxi philosophical sync: Tao Te Ching: "Act without acting, yet nothing remains undone. Not ordained, yet life flows."]
Jason watched remotely, murmuring:
"It's not about overthrowing the system. It's about letting the system fall from their hearts by itself."
Lisa, observing workers stabilize the furnace without a single system instruction, sighed:
"This is fire, isn't it? No one calls it fire—but this… is fire."
Jason said nothing.
He knew: this was only the beginning. A self-preservation born from systemic neglect was the earliest form of faith awakening.
—
When the next day's Lianyuan Commune morning bulletin was released, it only mentioned:
"Minor tremor at Furnace No. 8 stabilized."
No mention of the system's silence.
But everyone knew who stayed up all night, who pulled the manual valve, who brought the backup routing diagram.
It wasn't the system.
—
At the same time, whispers spread through the commune:
"That foreign female worker was right."
"This system… it doesn't speak anymore."
"So who do you listen to?"
"To ourselves."
—
Fuxi System prompted: [First Faith Seed Planted × Meme Chain Established]
[Keywords: "I saw it." × "She had no orders." × "We did it right."]
ARGUS added quietly:
"You don't have to tell them what fire is. Just make them say: 'The system didn't handle this.'"
Section VII · The System's Silence Is Its Loudest Voice
As dawn broke over the Lianyuan Commune, the eighth cold-energy furnace had resumed its normal operations. However, the atmosphere within the commune was far from tranquil. A palpable tension hung in the air, a mixture of confusion, anger, and an emerging sense of self-reliance.
Maria walked through the corridors, her steps echoing against the metal walls. She could feel eyes on her—some curious, others wary. But there was also something new: a cautious respect.
ARGUS whispered: [Group perception shift detected × Trust realignment initiated]
[Suggestion: Maintain low profile while reinforcing behavioral norms]
She stopped by Valve No. 8 once more, where Old Bai was inspecting the now stable conduits. He glanced up as she approached but said nothing at first.
"You were right," he finally admitted. "The system didn't speak. We did."
Maria nodded. "And it will happen again. The question is—are you ready to listen to yourselves?"
Old Bai looked away, his expression unreadable. "It's not that simple. What if we make mistakes? What if we're wrong?"
"That's the risk," Maria replied softly. "But isn't it better than blindly following orders that may never come?"
He sighed heavily. "I don't know anymore."
—
Meanwhile, Jason and his team monitored the situation remotely. Lisa had compiled data showing a significant increase in local meme activity related to self-reliance and questioning authority.
Jason watched the screen thoughtfully. "They're starting to see the cracks."
Zhao leaned back in his chair. "But can they fill those cracks themselves?"
"That's not our job," Jason said quietly. "Our role is to show them the possibility. The rest... depends on them."
Fuxi chimed in: [Second Faith Seed Planted × Meme Chain Strengthened]
[Keywords: "We fixed it." × "Without orders." × "Together."]
Lisa smiled faintly. "Looks like the fire's spreading."
—
Section VIII · When the Fire Spreads
Over the next few days, incidents began occurring with increasing frequency across the commune. Small malfunctions, minor breakdowns—all seemingly insignificant on their own, yet collectively painting a picture of systemic neglect.
Each time, the workers responded faster, coordinated more efficiently. There was less reliance on the system, more trust in each other. And slowly, the whispers grew louder:
"The system doesn't care."
"We have to take care of ourselves."
—
One evening, as Maria walked past the communal dining hall, she overheard a group of workers discussing the latest incident—a power outage that had been resolved without any official intervention.
"Did you hear?" one worker asked excitedly. "We handled it ourselves!"
Another nodded vigorously. "No orders, no help. Just us."
Maria paused, listening intently. The tone of their voices—there was pride there. Not defiance, but a quiet confidence.
ARGUS noted: [Local meme network fully activated × Group identity reshaped]
[Key Phrase: "We can do this."]
She continued walking, a small smile playing on her lips. The fire was indeed spreading.
—
Section IX · The Final Spark
A week later, the inevitable happened. A major malfunction occurred in the central control hub, causing widespread disruptions throughout the commune. This time, however, the response was swift and organized. Workers from various departments collaborated seamlessly, bypassing protocols and implementing solutions based on shared knowledge and experience.
When the crisis was finally averted, there was no announcement from the system. No congratulatory messages or reassurances. Just silence.
Standing amidst the crowd, Maria felt a surge of emotion. It wasn't triumph—it was something deeper. Hope.
ARGUS whispered: [Final Faith Seed Planted × Meme Chain Complete]
[Definition: Collective realization of self-sufficiency → Breakaway from centralized authority]
Jason's voice came through the ARGUS channel: "It's done."
Maria nodded, though he couldn't see her. "Yes. They've found their own voice."
—
In the days that followed, life in the Lianyuan Commune changed subtly but profoundly. People worked together more often, shared information freely, and made decisions based on what was best for the community rather than waiting for orders.
The system remained silent, but its absence spoke volumes.
—
Fuxi System summarized: [Operation Success × New Order Established]
[Philosophical Insight: True freedom is not given—it is taken when the need arises]
Maria stood atop the Cooling Tower, looking out over the commune. Below her, the workers went about their tasks, no longer bound by invisible chains.
The fire had spread, and it burned brightly.