Doomsday Wonderland Vol. 13: TBA

1617: Washing Machines Don't Eat Burgers

She really felt sorry about her bowl of noodles.

Lin Sanjiu stood in front of the portly old book merchant, not really wanting to explore or try, instead feeling rather lackadaisical, needing a push from the Life Coach to move a little. It's not surprising, considering her previous experiences with countless intense shocks and crises. Sometimes, she wouldn't even dare to close her eyes for months on end. Now that she has come to this strange yet not particularly dangerous place, every cell in her body naturally cries out for rest.

The only thing that prompted her to act was a thought: she had already spent the money, and if she didn't try, the Life Coach couldn't return that bowl of noodles.

"I've touched these human forms built from memories before," she muttered. "Their texture is too different from yours. I can't tell if it's made from material or not. If it's some kind of projection and I can't capture it... if I can't bring it in, do you owe me an item?"

The Life Coach was extremely quick-witted in this regard. "Then my next suggestion is free."

"If you don't have complete confidence in your plan next time, can you hold back and not always think about my stuff?"

"Oh, come on, try it," the Life Coach said, looking even more impatient than she was, feet shuffling back and forth.

Sighing, Lin Sanjiu gently placed her hand on the old man's shoulder. Even though it wasn't her first time, she still couldn't help but be slightly surprised by the sensation in her hand—it was touchable, perhaps indicating that he was indeed formed of some kind of material; but she had never known of such a substance in the world, light and resilient, reminding her of concentrated light.

Under the Life Coach's intense gaze, she closed her eyes and activated the seed ability from Advaita.

From long ago, Lin Sanjiu had a vague doubt in her heart.

The more she had experienced and seen since evolving, the more she felt an inexplicable and peculiar sensation; it was almost more like an illusion, like a thin mist floating deep in her mind during a dream, so elusive that she couldn't even understand it herself, let alone put it into words.

But at this moment, as she tried to incorporate the old man into her seed ability, it was as if a light suddenly shone into her mind—that weird feeling that had lingered deep in her mind for so many years suddenly surged to the surface, becoming clear and forming a thought.

Everything... was alive.

All these years, she had been wrong. She had known so many posthumans, powerful and ordinary, and they were all wrong too, only they didn't know it.

The apocalyptic world, objects, abilities, pocket dimensions... these myriad things that can only be accessed within the apocalyptic system, were all alive.

They might not be "life forms" in the traditional sense. For example, a country's economic system is not alive, but it is certainly active—a dead economy cannot last long.

Because everything was alive, it was difficult to define clear boundaries for them. Take washing machines as an example; the instruction manual clearly states its functions and uses within very definite boundaries: a washing machine is an inanimate object, and no matter how much its owner urges, pushes, or forces it, when the drum starts spinning, it will only turn in the prescribed direction.

But abilities, objects, and all kinds of strange things in the apocalypse never operate like that.

A basic question that Lin Sanjiu found hard to believe she had only thought to ask now: Why do human abilities evolve?