The Tide of Information and the Dread of Blood Gel

A relentless tide surged, its waters an infinite ocean of information washing over Lan Sen’s spirit in a primal, chaotic sequence, imperceptibly twisting his very personality.

As the tide receded once more, the world itself seemed to be reborn, heralding the awakening of a completely new Lan Sen.

He was Lan Sen, yet simultaneously, he was not.

He was a Lan Sen who had navigated countless divergent futures, only to have the memories of those hypothetical paths meticulously scrubbed from his mind.

He was a Lan Sen imbued with an abundance of new possibilities.

With the crushing inevitability of a fatal outcome lessened, he now found himself presented with fresh opportunities.

This time, aided by the primordial demon god, he was destined to avert a catastrophe and rescue innumerable lives.

When he next arrived at the crossroads of fate, would he veer left or right?

Or perhaps, would he perceive something entirely different?

Boom—

A gunshot echoed, ringing in his ears, and Lan Sen jolted awake.

“Ah!”

His body reflexively sprang from the bed, pressing tight against the cold wall as beads of icy sweat streamed down his skin.

He had suffered a nightmare.

No, it had been a cascade of nightmares.

A ceaseless succession of them, even dreams nested within dreams.

The specific details of the nightmares eluded him, yet their conclusion remained disturbingly consistent: his own excruciating death.

Before his demise, an overwhelming surge of resentment and guilt had consumed him, a sensation so potent it felt as though he would be restless even in his coffin, driven to tear open the lid and rise.

Seeking to quell the profound disquiet within him, he resolved to take a shower and attempt to regain his composure.

However, the instant he stepped into the washroom, regret washed over him.

He saw the water.

“Ugh—hurk,” he retched, his hands gripping the edge of the bathtub as he dry-heaved incessantly.

His dry retching soon escalated into violent coughing.

A viscous, inky fluid splattered forth, staining the clear bathwater before coalescing into a thin stream that defied gravity, flowing backward and vanishing into the pipes.

Witnessing this repulsive sight, a fragmented memory seemed to surface, creating the disorienting sensation that his very brain had been violently shaken, intensifying his retching.

“Wah-ugh—” His vomit erupted into a magnificent, churning torrent that relentlessly poured into the bathtub.

In short order, the bathtub transformed into a receptacle for a thick, unspeakable substance, utterly repulsive to behold.

What Lan Sen had expelled, of course, was neither excrement nor undigested food, and certainly not mere water.

To be precise, the substance he disgorged was a specialized aerogel material, a regular dietary requirement for modified humans.

It was known as “Blood Gel.”

At its core, Blood Gel was a molecular material possessing an exceptionally low density and pseudo-liquid characteristics.

Its robust accommodating properties allowed it to adsorb numerous large protein molecules, while its strong water solubility and preservative qualities rendered it impervious to common acids and bases.

Consequently, this remarkable “adsorbent” had supplanted both saline solutions and solid sustenance, becoming an indispensable staple for individuals residing long-term in the low-pressure, low-gravity environments of deep space.

Though incapable of being digested or absorbed by either human bodies or machines, it effectively mimicked the function of blood system cells—red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets—within the vasculature, concentrating exogenous nutrients and delivering them throughout the body.

Moreover, given its density was significantly lower than that of blood, modified individuals who regularly consumed this liquid could indirectly undergo physiological transformations.

It effectively replaced blood, reducing overall body density and fluid content, thereby enhancing their adaptation to the low-gravity conditions of space and mitigating the inertial forces experienced during spacecraft acceleration and deceleration.

It was, in essence, the zenith of molecular mechanical engineering.

Yet, Lan Sen, who ought to have possessed a robust adaptation to Blood Gel, found his stomach churning violently at the mere sight of bathwater containing even a minuscule amount, leading him to vomit profusely.

He harbored an unsettling premonition that this Blood Gel bore an uncanny resemblance to some ominous entities he had glimpsed in his dreams, yet the specifics remained frustratingly out of reach.

Simultaneously, his body unequivocally retained the profound discomfort triggered by the sight of Blood Gel; his hairs stood on end, and cold sweat erupted.

‘I am a modified human with an iron will, how could I possibly vomit simply from seeing Blood Gel?’

He ceaselessly reassured himself, all the while consumed by a profound fear of exposing his aversion to Blood Gel, lest he be subjected to a physical examination by the Health Department.

The Health Department, a division second only to the Department of True Sight in its dreaded reputation, instilled fear in all who heard its name.

The internal oversight divisions of the Heart of the Galaxy were divided into two distinct departments: one for psychological well-being and another for physiological health.

These were, respectively, the Department of True Sight and the Health Department.

The former was tasked with safeguarding the psychological health of every member within the Heart of the Galaxy.

Should any members be identified as suffering from mental illness, or merely suspected of exhibiting unstable mental states and prone to uttering what sounded like madness, diligent colleagues would kindly report them.

These individuals would then be dispatched to the Department of True Sight’s psychological counseling rooms, where they would undergo several weeks of mental therapy involving unique instruments and specialized medications.

If the treatment proved successful, patients would emerge thoroughly modified, their mental faculties vastly enhanced, and would then be honorably reinstated to their posts.

However, should the treatment fail, it merely meant a few names were quietly struck from a list no one truly cared about, accompanied by a handful of inconspicuous reports tucked away in the corners of news feeds:[So-and-so gloriously sacrificed themselves for advanced human modification experiments], [So-and-so perished during their vacation from a nuclear attack by Earth Alliance remnants], or[So-and-so succumbed to X’s psychic assault].

Many of Lan Sen’s predecessors had, in fact, experienced the dubious honor of an “invitation” from the Department of True Sight.

Perhaps the constant operation of the Skyfire Phase Wave Cannon, wielding a weapon capable of annihilating hundreds of billions, had simply subjected them to unbearable stress, ultimately driving them to madness.

In stark contrast to the intricate methodologies of the Department of True Sight, its counterpart, the Health Department, operated with far greater directness.

Investigators within the Health Department strictly adhered to the principle of evidence.

Lacking substantial grounds, they would not issue unwarranted notifications, and the presumption of innocence prevailed.

However, once they uncovered even the slightest trace of an anomaly, they would not hesitate to apprehend you for a comprehensive full-body examination.

This was not to imply suspicion of internal members engaging in treason or similar offenses.

The Health Department’s purview extended solely to the physical body, not to one’s thoughts, and they genuinely bore responsibility for the well-being of all Heart of the Galaxy members.

Their primary mandate involved conducting regular physical examinations for all Heart of the Galaxy members, be they human or AI.

They assisted in eradicating viruses and parasitic mechanical worms from their systems, ensured program stability, and implemented subtle, progressive adaptive modifications to their physical forms.

It was precisely through the Health Department’s intervention that Lan Sen acquired a physique significantly more formidable than anything he possessed during his time at Campet College.

Not only did his athletic performance surge, but his cognitive processes also became remarkably fluid, allowing him to effortlessly utilize various psychokinetic technologies, manipulate the station’s equipment, and engage in highly efficient communication with his AI colleagues.

How could one not be utterly captivated by the sensation of transforming into a superhuman?

Consequently, during his initial years of employment at Larry Ring Station, Lan Sen’s perception of the Health Department remained quite positive.

He genuinely believed it to be a division capable of guiding all humanity toward evolutionary advancement.

That was until he encountered a particular incident.

One of his colleagues, possessing a constitution deemed weaker, had suffered a severe rejection reaction to Blood Gel, collapsing unconscious at their workstation.

The scene at the time bore a chilling resemblance to his current predicament: the colleague had vomited profusely, and even other orifices had been expelling fluids.

The agony of it was utterly unbearable.

Just as Lan Sen anticipated the Health Department’s swift arrival for rescue, he instead received a piece of news that plunged him into utter despair.