Reality Programming Association

Chapter 114: Chapter 47: Flames of War and Cooking Smoke

Yu Xian stared at the lines of code on the screen, his mind reeling with shock.

The kind-hearted girl with the hair bun standing before him wasn’t just talented at coding; her software design concepts were sheer genius! 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

This was essentially a decentralized, permanently online, crowdsourced...

The phrase ”Cyber Beacon Tower” popped into Yu Xian’s head.

The logic of a beacon tower was remarkably similar to Wen Xiao’s ”multi-hop relay communication protocol.” In ancient times, if enemy forces were spotted, soldiers would immediately light a beacon fire. The next tower would see the smoke and light its own fire, passing the signal down the line station by station, much like falling dominoes.

This was ancient China’s most classic communication system—one that required no ”centralized base station.” It relied entirely on the visual signals of smoke and fire to relay information. In an era before telegraphs and cell phones, transmitting news of border invasions to the capital thousands of miles away in just a few days was a highly efficient ”offline emergency broadcast.”

If a program like this had existed during their time as an ”isolated island”—when torrential rains had wiped out all signals—they wouldn’t have been stranded like isolated islands anymore. They could have reconnected into a single, unified continent.

”This is... incredible,” Yu Xian praised genuinely. ”Wen Xiao, you’re a genius.”

Hearing his praise, Wen Xiao sheepishly stuck out her tongue. ”Actually, the technical barrier isn’t that high. The main challenge is getting enough people to install it. It’s what they call the ’network effect.’”

As if afraid Yu Xian might overestimate the project, she quickly explained further, ”The transmission distance and bandwidth are also pretty limited. You can’t send large files, only text. I’ll send you the installation package!”

Yu Xian took out his phone and received the small installation package, which was only a few megabytes in size. He installed and opened it. The interface was very clean, though the user interface itself was almost crude.

”Just send me your ’public key,’” Wen Xiao said, leaning closer.

Yu Xian copied the string of random characters on his screen and sent it to her. It was the public key automatically generated by the system, functioning much like a traditional username or ID.

”Added!” Wen Xiao waved her phone.

Yu Xian looked at the map on the app’s homepage. Two lonely online nodes were pressed closely together.

”Is it just the two of us right now?”

”Yeah, it’s just a beta version right now. Plus, we’re standing right in front of each other, so our Bluetooth can connect directly. In reality, it’s no different from transferring a file via Bluetooth; the connection will drop as soon as we’re too far apart.”

Wen Xiao looked at the two pitiful little green dots and let out a troubled sigh. ”If we want this to cover the entirety of JCU, or even all of Jiangcheng, we’ll need enough ’repeaters.’ We need a massive number of people to install this app and keep it running in the background.”

It was a classic network effect dilemma: no users meant no network, and no network meant no users. She looked up, her eyes pleading for help.

”But... everyone already uses other popular chat apps. Who would want to download some weird program with a crude interface? Yu Xian, do you have any ideas?”

Seeing her distressed expression, Yu Xian fell into thought. It was true. In this era of information overload, promoting a brand-new social app would be nearly impossible. But this was also a unique time. Having just survived the panic of being an ”isolated island” for the past few days, the public’s demand for a ”backup communication method” should be at an all-time high. As long as they found the right angle, it might not be as impossible as it seemed.

”Alright. I’ll help you brainstorm a solution.” Yu Xian tucked his phone away. It was getting late, and Yang Yiyi was still waiting for him. ”I’m going to head out now. You should hurry back to your dorm, too. Be safe on the way.”

Bidding farewell to Wen Xiao, who still wanted him to stay and discuss marketing strategies, Yu Xian turned and disappeared back into the curtain of rain.

His route back was rather grueling.

Although traffic in Jiangcheng had resumed, many roads were still heavily flooded and difficult to navigate. He had to first take the legendary Metro Line 4—which hadn’t suspended operations—back to his cousin’s house in the old town. After grabbing his computer, he would have to take the subway back to the JCU South Gate, trudge through the muddy campus to exit via the West Gate, and finally walk another short distance to reach his apartment.

Leaning against the glass of the subway doors, he watched the tunnel lights blur past the window, his mind still turning over their recent conversation.

This ”Cyber Beacon Tower” Wen Xiao had created—this decentralized mode of communication—wouldn’t just keep people connected during a disaster. More importantly, it was incredibly stealthy. It required no servers, had no centralized nodes, and all messages were transmitted peer-to-peer between devices.

This meant that no one could monitor the network, nor could anyone shut it down.

This might be the final piece of the ”Dark Forest.” If they ever had to truly face off against the massive power behind TDI, this app could very well become a vital trump card.

When he returned to his cousin’s house, it was still completely empty. Everything was exactly as he had left it that morning. Yu Xian didn’t linger. He shoved his laptop and power adapter into his waterproof hiking backpack.

By the time he hopped back onto Line 4 and arrived at the JCU South Gate Station, it was already past four in the afternoon.

Yu Xian held his umbrella up and walked down a narrow campus path toward the West Gate. As he passed the main building of the School of Physics, he glanced at it from a distance.

Just as he expected, the glass of the first-floor lobby was completely shattered. The soil in the landscaping beds was churned and trampled, and the notices on the bulletin board had been torn to shreds.