Infinite Nightmares

On second thought, Zhang Wenda realized it made perfect sense. Since every individual’s stream of consciousness was another person’s Inner World, then anything that could cause immense harm to his own Inner World could naturally affect others’ as well.

If coming here before had been a bit of an overreach, now that he had this weapon, Zhang Wenda felt that whatever Old Tan had planned, he was finally qualified to join the fight.

"What are you staring at? See something interesting?" Song Jianguo walked over, curiously eyeing the object in Zhang Wenda’s hand. She couldn’t resist reaching out to touch it, but he slapped her hand away.

Zhang Wenda glared at the curious girl. "Don’t touch it! Seriously, why can’t you keep your hands to yourself? Do you even know what this is before you go trying to touch it?"

The moment Zhang Wenda’s mind moved on from the memory, the giant red spear vanished before him.

"Wenda, forget about the weapon for a second. What are we going to do about your Hippocampus?" Hu Maomao suddenly asked. Evidently, she had seen every thought that had just crossed his mind.

Her words gave Zhang Wenda, who was holding the pen, a headache. He could temporarily stand in for his Hippocampus, but new memories were being created every second. ’I can’t just work here 24/7. If I do this, how will I get anything else done?’

As he watched the mirrors in the room begin to display scenes from his recent experiences, an idea struck Zhang Wenda. He turned to look at the black cats beside Song Jianguo, who were sniffing curiously at their surroundings, and a plan began to form.

A minute later, Zhang Wenda began his negotiations with Song Jianguo.

"What? You want some of my cats to come work inside your brain? Eight hours a day, in three shifts? With weekends off?" Song Jianguo stared at Zhang Wenda in astonishment.

"What’s wrong? Is that not allowed? I’m paying a salary, you know," Zhang Wenda said. ’Why should I do this myself? A job this tedious is perfect for hiring others to do.’

"Deal, of course it’s a deal! But their pay has to be split three ways! And also..."

"It’s a deal!" Soon, a group of black cats had moved into the Hippocampus building, diligently recording everything that appeared on the four mirrors.

Just as a satisfied Zhang Wenda was watching the black cats get to work and preparing to leave, he saw one of them hop outside the building.

He watched as it pawed at the pink ground, found a sunken fold, and then aimed its rear end right at it, tail raised and hind legs trembling.

The sight made Zhang Wenda’s skin crawl. ’This black cat is trying to take a dump in the folds of my cerebral cortex!!’

Horrified, he shot out of the building and snatched the cat back inside just a second before the first "meteorite" made impact.

"Listen up! You absolutely cannot shit in here! And you can’t run outside to dig a hole and bury it, either! You hear me? It is absolutely, positively forbidden! Any crap you take on the job has to be carried out when your shift is over!"

Zhang Wenda warned them with the utmost seriousness before he left. The very thought of his brain being full of cat crap made him shudder with revulsion.

"Meow~" a chorus of cries rose from the black cats.

"No! And you can’t drink water from the Prefrontal Strait, either! What happens when it’s all gone? Even more, you can’t run into the forest to chew on those strange-looking leaves! And no using the tree bark as scratching posts!" Zhang Wenda repeated himself several times. Only after he threatened to dock their pay for any violations did the black cats finally agree.

"Don’t worry, Consciousness. We’ll help you keep an eye on them," the little black cats from the left brain said to the departing Zhang Wenda.

"Is your forest all right?" Zhang Wenda asked them worriedly. Lakov had done a great deal of damage to them as well.

"We’re fine. The roots are still there. The forest will grow back quickly."

Hearing this, Zhang Wenda finally breathed a sigh of relief. ’Thank goodness. Even though there were a few hiccups, none of my essential functions were damaged.’

"Come to think of it, this whole incident was actually a good thing for you. Not only did you escape any major damage, you even gained a powerful weapon."

Hearing Hu Maomao say this beside him, Zhang Wenda retorted in annoyance, "Could you please stop casually flipping through my memories? That ability of yours is really not very endearing."

"You should be thanking your lucky stars. If it weren’t for this ability, you’d have spent the rest of your life as an idiot." The two of them emerged from Zhang Wenda’s Inner World as they bickered.

With his own affairs settled for the moment, Zhang Wenda looked out again at the ruins of the Tower of Babel. He licked his dry lips, and just as he was about to bring up a serious matter, he suddenly felt his body become incredibly sluggish.

He quickly realized that Hu Maomao and Song Jianguo were frozen in place as well. A low-frequency hissing static began to fill the air.

’What’s going on!?’ Just as Zhang Wenda was looking warily toward the cave entrance, a tired-looking, square-jawed middle-aged man walked in. He wore a black armband emblazoned with the number 702.

When he saw the armbands on Zhang Wenda and the others, the hissing static in the air finally faded. "I received a distress call. Was that you?"

Zhang Wenda glanced at Hu Maomao. ’So the reinforcements she called for finally arrived,’ he thought. ’But they sure took their sweet time. If something bad had actually happened, our bodies would be cold by now.’

"That was us," Hu Maomao said, about to step forward, but Zhang Wenda stopped her. "Hold on. How do you prove you’re with the Third Line?" As he spoke, the atmosphere in the cave instantly grew tense.

But Zhang Wenda knew he had to ask. After what happened with Lakov, he couldn’t afford to take any chances.

The man’s gaze swept over the three of them before he spoke again. "One: Raid. Two: Train. Reply."

"What?" The word slipped out of Zhang Wenda’s mouth reflexively, and the man’s expression immediately grew wary.

As he took two steps back, the low-frequency hiss started up again. "Forget about whether I’m from the Third Line. When you entered today, did no one give you the passcode?"

"If you don’t even know the passcode, how am I supposed to confirm that *you’re* with the Third Line?"