Reality Programming Association

Chapter 163 -69: Dream Virtual World

Yu Xian shot up so fast that his chair scraped harshly against the floor.

“The same… dream?”

He stared at the bolded conclusion on the screen, a wave of dizziness washing over him. For a moment, even the sound of the rain outside seemed to fade away.

Senior Sister Yiyi looked up at him, her shimmering eyes filled with the same unease.

Her fingers glided across the trackpad, enlarging the brainwave comparison chart.

“I find it incredible, too,” she said. “According to current neuroscience, dreams are just the cerebral cortex randomly reorganizing memory fragments. It’s an extremely private and subjective biological process. Even if you use the same auditory stimulus, the associated images people conjure should be worlds apart.”

Yu Xian didn’t say anything. He collapsed back into his chair.

As a physics student, he could accept the idea of sound frequencies causing brainwave resonance.

It was like the tuning fork experiment from physics class. If you place two tuning forks of the exact same frequency together and strike one, the other will also begin to vibrate and produce sound, which gradually grows louder.

This is what’s known in physics as “resonance.”

‘But resonance doesn’t mean “sharing,” does it?’

‘Two tuning forks vibrating at the same frequency can’t exchange their material composition. Two pendulums swinging in the same rhythm can’t swap their bobs.’

‘As long as the frequency and phase of the sleep spindles are the same, people can have the same dream?’

‘What kind of logic is that?’

Yu Xian took a deep breath. The sweet, vaporous scent of peach soda eased his anxiety slightly. He tried to make sense of the underlying principle.

“Senior Sister, are you saying… it’s like two people reading the same novel? Even if we read the exact same content at the same speed, in the exact same posture, the images in our minds should still be completely different, right?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.” Yang Yiyi affirmed his analogy.

“The content of a dream comes from each person’s short-term memories in the hippocampus and long-term memories in the cerebral cortex. Even if that ‘Rotating Door’ opened for both of us at the same time, we should have still walked into our own separate rooms, so to speak.”

An idea suddenly flashed through Yu Xian’s mind. He quickly pressed on:

“Then is it possible there’s a prerequisite for this experiment? Let’s use the novel analogy again. If someone made me watch the Harry Potter movies before reading the books, then when I got to certain scenes, I’d instinctively picture the movie version. In that case, couldn’t two people dream of the same images?”

But Yang Yiyi shook her head, her expression growing even more grave.

“But the ‘interaction’ Professor Mo’s experiment mentioned goes beyond just dreaming of the same images. Subject A saw Subject B in the dream, and Subject B also saw Subject A. Their dialogue was even logically coherent.”

Neither of them spoke. The conclusion was so absurd and terrifying that they both struggled to process it.

“Dream Net…” Yu Xian muttered to himself, the two words feeling strange on his tongue.

A shudder, like an electric current, shot through his entire body.

He finally understood.

He understood why the protocol that had tormented him for ten days and ten nights was called the TDI “Dream Net” Protocol.

Back then, as he recited that line like a machine in that white, empty space, he had been confused.

He had been the only one in solitary confinement, in what was essentially a single-player “prison experience.” Why on earth call it a “Net”?

At the time, he’d assumed it was just a catchy marketing gimmick, or some forced application of an internet concept.

But now, looking at the two perfectly synchronized brainwave curves on the screen and the bolded conclusion, he had a sudden realization.

That “Net” was probably not a figure of speech. On the contrary, it was a literal noun.

A real, tangible, factual… “network” that connected countless dreams.

Yu Xian swallowed hard, his voice strained as he said to Yang Yiyi:

“Senior Sister, if this technology actually matures… what they’re after probably isn’t lucid dreaming at all…”

Yang Yiyi had realized it too. She hugged her knees, the oversized shirt she wore making her seem frail as she said in a low voice:

“My advisor… is he trying to build a massive, multi-person virtual world within a dream? If everyone fell asleep at the same time, and entered the same frequency at the same time… then that dream probably couldn’t be called a ‘dream’ anymore.”

“Yeah. It wouldn’t be a dream so much as another… ‘reality.’” Yu Xian glanced at the rain-streaked night outside and couldn’t help but feel a chill of fear.

Beyond that curtain of rain, a vast, invisible network built from countless human minds seemed to be silently extending its tentacles into the darkness.

Yu Xian leaned back in his chair, feeling a thin layer of sweat on his back. The speculation about “reality” and the “Dream Net” was so heavy it left him breathless.

He turned his head to look out the window. Rainwater snaked down the glass, trapping the two of them in this small space.

‘I have to bring my thoughts back to reality.’ Compared to the grand but ethereal “Dream Net Project,” a more urgent and deadly threat was hanging over their heads.

Senior Sister Yiyi’s safety.

“Senior Sister.” Yu Xian sat up straight, pulling his gaze away from the window to look at Yang Yiyi, who was curled up on the sofa, hugging her knees.