The Seeker sailed steadily through the sea of stars, repairs progressing in an orderly fashion.
But the atmosphere in the main lab was a bit different than before.
In the past, there was only the quiet flow of data and the silence of Herta’s solitary contemplation.
Now, there was a…
somewhat noisier liveliness.
And the source of that liveliness was, naturally, Baida, along with her bizarre creative ability that Herta had tentatively determined to be “possibly related to the Path of Elation.”
Since reaching that preliminary conclusion, Herta’s attitude toward Baida had undergone a subtle change.
No longer simply viewing her as a sister who needed looking after and occasionally provided unexpected surprises—or shocks—she now saw her as an extremely special “phenomenon” worthy of in-depth study.
And so, Herta began her “clingy” research.
“Baida.” Herta put down her data pad and looked at Baida, who was sitting on the carpet trying to weld a small anti-gravity device to a music box that automatically played lullabies.
“Mhm?” Baida didn’t look up, focused on her “new invention” sparking in her hands.
“Make another one of those Self-Building Construction Robots.” Herta gave the order, her tone calm, as if requesting a routine experiment.
Baida immediately put down her work without any hesitation.
She always agreed to Herta’s requests without question.
“Okay!” She stood up, patted the dust off her bottom, and trotted over to the “junk pile” material area in the corner of the lab specifically set aside for her.
It was piled high with various discarded parts, scrap materials, and even some fragments recovered from Antimatter Legion wreckage, still carrying faint destructive energy.
Her eyes grew focused again, her small hands rummaging through the pile.
“This time, don’t use enemy wreckage to upgrade,” Herta added as a variable.
“Only use spare parts from our ship.”
“Oh…” Baida responded vaguely, but her hands didn’t stop.
She grabbed a few scrapped sensors, several standard alloy plates, an old thruster core…
As before, her hands became blurs, her movements rough and illogical, full of the [I Reckon] style.
The sounds of clanking and buzzing filled the air.
A few minutes later, a Self-Building Construction Robot appeared in its place.
Its design was still rough, but its style was slightly different from the previous batch—its entire body was the ship’s standard silver-gray.
It didn’t have the vicious enemy armor, looking much more “gentle.”
“Activate,” Herta commanded.
Blue lights lit up in the robot’s eyes, its treads turning with a buzzing sound.
Herta immediately initiated a scan.
On the holographic projection, the internal structure model was quickly constructed—still a tangled mess of energy lines, a forcibly pieced-together power core, non-standard transmission systems…
The simulation began to run.
“Warning!
Energy circuit node B-12 load abnormal!”
“Warning!
Left arm driveshaft stress concentration!”
“Warning!
Core cooling efficiency insufficient!”
…
The predicted failure rate curve shot up again, finally settling at: 78.9%.
Slightly lower than last time, but still a catastrophic number.
Yet this robot still stood steadily, executing its standby instructions.
Herta fell into thought.
“Baida, make a wheel that can spin forever without stopping.” She switched to a more abstract request, one that even violated the law of conservation of energy.
Baida blinked, as if trying to understand what “spin forever without stopping” meant.
She tilted her head and thought for a few seconds, then nodded.
She rummaged through the material pile again, pulling out a few small gears, a miniature energy battery (clearly not enough to power anything “forever”), and some tiny springs and screws.
She got to work again, and soon a small, simple, even crude device appeared in her palm.
It was a palm-sized wheel made of gears and springs.
Baida placed it on the ground and gave it a gentle flick with her finger.
The wheel began to spin, making a faint clicking sound.
It didn’t turn fast; it looked like it could stop at any moment.
Herta and the lab’s smart system simultaneously monitored its energy consumption and movement state. The source of this chapter is g.com.
One minute passed.
The wheel was still spinning, though a bit slower.
Five minutes passed.
Still spinning.
Ten minutes passed.
The wheel’s rotation seemed to stabilize at an extremely slow but undeniable continuous motion.
Monitoring data showed that the miniature battery’s energy had long been depleted.
Theoretically, the wheel should have stopped long ago.
But it defied physical laws, relying on that seemingly crude spring and gear structure to continue turning with an extremely weak but unceasing kinetic energy.
“Unable to detect continuous energy input source…”
“Motion pattern does not match known physical models…”
“Structural analysis shows internal stress should have been exhausted 37 seconds ago…”
The smart system’s prompts carried a hint of “confusion.”
Herta looked at the little wheel still stubbornly clicking along, then at Baida’s expression that clearly said “see, I made it” and was waiting for praise.
She felt her understanding of the universe being refreshed to a new low once again.
“Stop,” Herta said.
Almost the instant the words left her mouth, that little wheel seemed to hear the command, or perhaps exhausted some invisible “support.” It wobbled twice and finally stopped.
“Baida, make something that can make people laugh.” Herta continued her tests, this time involving the mental realm.
Baida thought for a bit longer this time.
She looked at Herta, then at the material pile, and began to work.
This time she used some colorful wires, a few LEDs, a small speaker, and some…
shiny colored paper scraps?
She tinkered for a while and produced something that looked like a crude crown, covered in blinking colored lights and crooked decorations.
“Here!
Herta!
Wear it!” Baida excitedly handed the crown to Herta.
Herta took it expressionlessly.
For research purposes, she put it on her head.
The crown’s colored lights began flashing in a chaotic rhythm.
The small speaker played a distorted, out-of-tune melody that mixed “Happy Birthday” with starship alarm sounds.
At the same time, shiny colored paper scraps were blown out from the crown’s gaps, scattering everywhere.
Herta: “…”
She assessed her emotions.
She felt no urge to laugh.
She only felt…
very noisy, very childish, and the paper scraps sticking to her hair and clothes were mildly irritating.
However, a young researcher nearby who was helping record data happened to glance at Herta wearing that ridiculous crown, her face cold, surrounded by drifting paper scraps.
He couldn’t help it—a “pfft” escaped, and he quickly covered his mouth, his face turning red.
Herta gave him a cold look, and the researcher immediately fell silent.
She took off the crown and analyzed the data: “Target subject—myself—showed no emotional fluctuation of joy.
Mental energy field showed no abnormal changes.
But indirect observation shows a third party briefly exhibited a laughter response…
Effect has uncertainty and indirectness?”
After a series of tests, Herta discovered some patterns:
Baida’s “creation” ability relied heavily on her own “understanding” and “intent.” If she believed something “could work,” even with the most unreasonable structure, it had a very high probability of “working,” though usually accompanied by an absurdly high failure rate—the BUG.
Her creations often carried a sense of unpredictability, chaos, and even mischief.
Trying to make a perpetual motion wheel resulted in a “slow-motion wheel” that violated energy conservation.
Trying to make something laugh-inducing resulted in something that made people—mainly bystanders—feel awkward and amused.
This ability seemed completely unconstrained by rational thought and existing scientific systems, full of whimsy and a sense of “fun.”
Herta pulled up the database on the Aeons and Paths, her fingers sliding across the virtual screen, finally stopping on the mark of “Elation.”
The Aeon Aha, whose goal was to create chaos and seek amusement.
The Path’s followers often acted unpredictably, pursuing fleeting joy and drama, even willing to self-destruct for a “grand performance.”
Baida’s ability—this way of bypassing rules, creating BUGs, with results full of unexpectedness and chaos—did share striking similarities with certain characteristics of the Path of Elation.
It was more like her pure, almost “foolish” way of thinking, along with her unrestrained [I Reckon] ability, had unintentionally aligned with a certain essence of “Elation”—disregard for rules, reckless indulgence in “possibility,” and the joy brought by the process itself, at least for herself.
“So, the preliminary conclusion is,” Herta recorded in her research log, “Subject Baida’s special creative ability is suspected to be highly correlated with the Path of Elation.
The ability manifests as disregarding certain physical laws and forcibly materializing her own ‘understanding’ and ‘intent’ through unknown means.
The process is full of randomness and BUGs.
The results often carry unexpected and chaotic qualities…
More like a ‘loophole’ exploiter of the universe’s underlying rules.”
At this point, Herta paused and glanced at Baida, who had returned to sitting on the carpet, now starting to assemble a metal dancing bird from new parts.
“Her behavioral motivations are simple, primarily driven by ‘accompanying and protecting the target individual’ and ‘finding things interesting.’ No extreme tendencies typical of Elation followers have been observed.
Threat level…
provisionally set to extremely low—negative for the specific target individual, even.”
After recording, Herta closed the virtual log.
She was basically satisfied with this conclusion.
Though many mysteries remained unsolved—like the exact operating mechanism of this ability, the specific connection to Elation energy, and so on—those could be left for future research.
At least now she had a general direction.
The genius’s thirst for knowledge was temporarily appeased.
She redirected her attention to her previously interrupted research on “the conductivity efficiency of imaginary energy in confined fields.” The holographic projection was once again filled with complex formulas and models.
But she had barely immersed herself when a warm body quietly pressed against her.
Baida had finished her dancing bird—the bird was hopping around on the ground in a twitching, extremely comical motion—and contentedly sidled up to Herta.
With practiced ease, she hugged Herta from behind as she sat at the console, pressing her face against her back, taking a deep breath of that familiar scent mixed with machine oil and cold electronic components, letting out a satisfied, slightly childish hum:
“Herta~”
Her voice was soft and sticky, full of complete dependence and closeness, as if she hadn’t just been the subject of various tests.
Herta had been deriving a key parameter and was interrupted.
Her body stiffened slightly.
Without turning around, her voice carried a hint of annoyance: “Let go.
I’m working.”
“Mmm…
no…” Baida held on tighter, even nuzzling against her back.
“Herta…
smells nice…
comfortable…”
Herta tried to break free, but Baida’s [Strength Enhancement] was on full display—she held on for dear life.
“You…” Herta felt helpless.
The inspiration that had just flashed across her screen nearly got interrupted.
She sighed.
She knew reasoning with this foolish sister was useless.
In the end, she chose to give up resisting.
She just adjusted her sitting position slightly so Baida could hold on more comfortably while also making sure she could still face the screen and work.
“Quiet.
No more sounds,” Herta gave the final order.
“Mhm!” Baida nodded hard and indeed fell silent, just quietly clinging like a human pendant, feeling her sister’s warmth and heartbeat, utterly content and happy.
The lab fell quiet again.
Only the faint hum of instruments, the flowing data on the holographic projection, and the occasional sound of Herta tapping the virtual keyboard remained.
In the corner, the robot with the 78.9% failure rate stood on standby.
The energy-conservation-defying little wheel sat motionless.
The ridiculous crown lay on the workbench.
And the twitching, dancing metal bird hopped about.
All these creations of the “Elation BUG” formed a strange yet oddly harmonious picture with this rational, scientific space.
Herta explored truth in the ocean of reason, while her foolish sister, in her own unique, BUG-filled “Elation” way, dotted her cold world with chaotic yet warm colors.
The research continued.
And the companionship never left.