From American Internet Celebrity to God Among Men

169: Chapter 169 A Contract and Dinner at HomeThe atmosphere inside the transit safe house grew heavy and subtle after the initial decryption results came out. After the shock came a long period of deathly silence. The doctor (whom Alex now knew was named Dr. Erickson) stared at the data on the screen at times, and at others, nervously rubbed the thermos in his hand, as if trying to squeeze more meaning out of those cold symbols and waveforms. Captain Ice Ridge became even more silent, merely checking the safe house’s defense systems and communication equipment repeatedly, a hint of instinctive wariness toward the unknown hidden deep in his eyes.

Alex was the quickest to adjust. Perhaps it was because he had already encountered the anomalous samples provided by the Spirit of the Wasteland, or perhaps his extraordinary perception gave him a deeper psychological preparation for the fact that ’the world is not what it appears to be.’ He walked to Dr. Erickson’s side, looking at the wave diagrams representing ’unnatural encoding,’ and asked, ’Dr. Dr. Erickson, in your professional judgment, what kind of... ”device” or ”environment” is needed to generate and transmit this kind of signal?’

Dr. Erickson looked up, his eyes behind his glasses bloodshot, but still shining with the rational light of a scientist: ’The energy level isn’t high, but the modulation is extremely complex and precise. It doesn’t look like a resonance accidentally generated by geological activity. It needs... a highly ordered ”source,” as well as a medium capable of carrying and directionally propagating this specific frequency of vibration. The ice layer itself is a good low-frequency transmission medium, but the source...’ He shook his head, ’I don’t know. It could be some non-human-made thing with information processing capabilities buried deep under the ice that we cannot understand, or it could be... some naturally formed ”information structure” that we have never recognized. Whichever it is, it’s enough to rewrite textbooks.’

’Does our existing data support either inference?’ Alex pressed.

’Neither is sufficient, but it’s enough to prove the existence of an ”anomaly,” and that this anomaly has the potential characteristic of being ”interpretable as information.”’ Dr. Erickson gave a bitter smile, ’It’s like a primitive man finding a piece of worked flint for the first time. He knows it’s not a natural stone, but he has no idea who made it, how it was made, or what it’s used for. We are that primitive man right now.’

The metaphor was very apt. They had touched the edge of the flint, but the flint’s owner, history, and purpose remained hidden behind a thick fog.

Follow-up instructions from the Spirit of the Wasteland arrived a few hours later, concise in content:

1. All raw data and analysis reports are to be transmitted back with the highest priority encryption.

2. Secondary observation points will maintain passive monitoring for 48 hours as planned, recording any subsequent related activities.

3. All members of the expedition team (including Alex) are to return to the departure base immediately after the monitoring period ends for a comprehensive physiological and psychological assessment and mission briefing.

4. Sign a supplementary non-disclosure agreement, elevating the security level of information encountered during this mission to ”Beyond Top Secret.” Without authorization, specific details must not be disclosed to any third party (including immediate family) for life; only vague academic or creative references (subject to review) are permitted.

The instructions showed no surprise or excitement, only cold proceduralization and extreme alertness. Alex could feel that the importance of what they had uncovered might far exceed a simple ”academic discovery.”

He signed that harsh supplementary agreement. This was within his expectations. Some secrets are a burden and a risk just by knowing them. But he didn’t regret it. This experience gave him a subversive understanding of the realms touched by his Energy Perception ability. The sounds of the world were far more than just melody and noise; they might also contain sleeping ”whispers” from ancient times or extraterrestrial origins.

During the 48-hour wait for evacuation, Alex did not stay idle. He used remote monitoring equipment to continue ”listening” to the ice field from a safe distance. That dense pulse sequence did not appear again, but the slow ”pulsating” sensation deep within the ice field remained. Under the detailed scan of Energy Perception, he could discern an extremely faint ”energy undertone” within it that shared the same source as those encoded pulses. It was merely dispersed and silent, like the almost imperceptible residual vibration of an instrument in the air after the main part has stopped.

He tried using that Nagra, which had been tested by the ice field, to record a segment of ”micro-sound” inside the absolutely quiet safe house. This sound was generated by the interaction between the energy field around his body and the air and equipment when he was operating Energy Perception at full power—sounds inaudible to the human ear. It was more like a personalized experimental record of his ability’s boundaries.

Los Angeles, Echo Vision headquarters.

Taylor hosted the first offline seminar for the ”Monthly Echo Star.” Winners and some high-potential creators were invited to the company for face-to-face exchanges with the platform’s content team and technical experts, and to experience the latest creative tools. The seminar had a lively atmosphere with constant creative sparks. Taylor’s approachability and professionalism allowed her to play the role of ”acting manager” very well. After the event, she shared group photos and behind-the-scenes clips on social media, tagging Alex: ”I saw many shining eyes and interesting ideas for you. Everything is running well here at home, waiting for you to bring back new ’sound samples’.”

Her update was as warm and powerful as ever, both reassuring fans concerned about Alex’s whereabouts and stabilizing the confidence of the platform community.

During the opening weekend of city of instantaneity, both box office and critical reception exploded. In film reviews, praises like ”revolutionary sound design” and ”a new benchmark for sound storytelling” were frequent. The weight of the name Alex Su within the film industry increased sharply. Several top media outlets tried to contact him for exclusive interviews, but were politely declined by Marcus on the grounds that ”Mr. Su is currently focusing on an important long-term creative project and is temporarily unable to accept interviews.” The sense of mystery further heightened public curiosity and expectation.

Director Zack Snyder personally called Taylor. Besides thanking her and Alex for their huge contribution to the film, he also said half-jokingly, ”Tell Alex that next time there’s an ’important long-term project’ like this, he can give me a heads-up; maybe I can go be a script supervisor.” His words were full of appreciation for his partner’s spirit of exploration.

Everything was progressing steadily and prosperously; the empire under the sun was running well.

The 48-hour monitoring period ended with no further active anomalous signals recorded. The expedition team packed their gear, boarded the tracked vehicle, and set off on the long journey back to the departure base.

The mood on the return trip was completely different from the exploration on the way there. Coming here, they were full of curiosity and a bit of nervousness about the unknown; returning, they carried heavy secrets and subversive knowledge. The interior of the vehicle was even quieter than before, as everyone was processing the experiences of the past few days.

Dr. Dr. Erickson spent most of his time clutching his laptop, repeatedly reviewing data, occasionally writing down obscure formulas and conjectures in an encrypted notebook. Captain Ice Ridge was even more vigilant, conducting more thorough perimeter checks during every short stop on the return journey.

Alex leaned against the car window, watching the unchanging scenery of the ice field outside. He pulled up the system interface and looked at the popularity numbers. This expedition itself did not directly bring a growth in popularity (as it was not public), but the expansion of his understanding of the world and the deepening of his understanding of his own abilities seemed to make the ”foundation” of certain extraordinary abilities more solid. He faintly felt that the precision and range of Energy Perception had received an imperceptible enhancement after this extreme application.

More importantly, he had touched a more concrete form of ”rules” or ”anomalies”—that structured, unnatural encoded information. This provided a potential ”direction” and ”requirement” for his future exchange or upgrade of related abilities.

Three days later, they finally returned to that simple departure base. A small jet was already waiting there. Before boarding, Alex, Dr. Erickson, and Captain Ice Ridge were taken into separate rooms to undergo an exhaustingly detailed physiological and psychological assessment and mission briefing (mainly repeating non-disclosure terms and warnings) conducted by two expressionless experts. The entire process was efficient, professional, and exuded an unquestionable authority.

When Alex finally sat on the plane, buckled his seatbelt, and watched the Greenland ice field gradually shrink and recede amidst the roar of the engines, he truly felt a sense of trance as if ”returning to the human world.”

The plane landed at a remote military airport in North America, and he was subsequently picked up by an unmarked black SUV. After several transfers, he was quietly delivered to his doorstep in Malibu, Los Angeles, late at night.

Pushing open the door, he was met with a wave of warmth and the aroma of food. Only a warm yellow wall lamp was on in the living room. Taylor was curled up on the sofa, seemingly asleep, but woke up immediately upon hearing the door open.

She didn’t rush over immediately, but stood up and looked him over carefully, inch by inch, as if confirming he was whole and unharmed. Alex stood at the door, shedding the coldness of the ice field and his tensed nerves, letting her watch him.

A few seconds later, Taylor walked over quickly and hugged him tightly, with a strength that surprised him. She buried her face in his shoulder and said muffledly, ’You smell of ice and snow... and something else.’

Alex hugged her back, feeling the real warmth and weight in his arms; everything from the ice field seemed to be shut outside the door. ’I’m back,’ he said softly, his voice a bit raspy.

’Are you hungry? I made soup.’ Taylor let go of him and looked up at him, her eyes a bit red, but her face wore a relaxed smile.

’Starving.’ Alex followed her to the kitchen. Simple dishes were set on the dining table, along with a small bottle of celebratory champagne.

They didn’t talk about the ice field immediately. They just ate quietly, occasionally exchanging a look, listening to the familiar subtle sounds in the house—the hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock, the faint sound of waves in the distance. These mundane sounds sounded so precious and peaceful at this moment.

After dinner, the two sat on the rug in front of the fireplace. Only then did Taylor ask softly, ’Can you... tell me a little bit? Not the specifics, just... the feeling.’

Alex watched the dancing flames, silenced for a moment, then spoke slowly: ’It felt... like standing at the entrance of an immensely large library, only having time to see a few incomprehensible words through the crack in the door. The library itself is silent, but you know all the stories are hidden inside. And that door... might never be fully opened, or perhaps, at some moment, it will open a crack on its own.’

Taylor leaned against him, listening quietly. She didn’t press him on what those ”words” were, nor did she ask where the ”library” was. She just gripped his hand tightly.

’What about the ”sound samples” you brought back?’ she changed the subject.

Alex took the small Nagra magnetic tape that recorded the ”micro-sound” of his energy field in the safe house from his inner pocket and handed it to her. ’It’s not from the ice field. It’s... my ”state” while I was there. It might sound like nothing at all.’

Taylor took it carefully, as if receiving a fragile treasure. ’I’ll listen to it,’ she said, ’with the best equipment, when it’s at its quietest.’

The night grew deep. Alex washed away the dust of travel and lay on his familiar soft bed, with Taylor’s steady breathing beside him. He closed his eyes, and Energy Perception naturally flowed out of habit, enveloping this warm, safe home filled with love and creative energy.

The secrets of the ice field sank into the depths of his consciousness, becoming a region on his cognitive map that had not yet been illuminated but was already marked with ”here be anomalies.” And the life and career before him remained the core of his progress and protection.