The Red and White Lights in the Dead of Night
In the midst of her sleep, Lian was suddenly startled awake by Maya's piercing cries, Molly's anxious barking, and A.M.O.S.'s voice shouting through every speaker in the house.
She sprang up from the bed, not even bothering to put on shoes, and stumbled her way into the living room. The moonlight filtered through the window, falling upon Ethan, who lay motionless on the floor.
"Ethan! Ethan!" Lian's mind went completely blank for an instant, but the residual medical instincts in her body forcefully drove her actions at this moment. She threw herself to her knees on the floor, her trembling fingers immediately reaching for Ethan's carotid artery to check for a pulse, while simultaneously pressing her ear against his chest—no breathing, no heartbeat, and his pupils had already begun to dilate.
"No... no, it can't be! Wake up!" Lian slapped Ethan's cheeks frantically, screaming his name, and then laid his body completely flat. She clasped her hands tightly together, leaned forward, and pressing the heels of her palms hard against the lower half of Ethan's sternum, began frantic chest compressions.
One, two, three, four... Tears streaming down her face, she used every ounce of her strength to perform CPR. After every thirty compressions, she immediately pinched Ethan's nose, tilted his chin up, pressed her lips tightly against his, and blew air desperately into his lungs.
Lian repeated this standard cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) motion over and over again. Her arms began to ache, she was drenched in sweat, and her knuckles turned severely white and ached violently from the excessive force. She kept it up for a full ten-plus minutes, until her stamina was utterly depleted and she could no longer continue. She slumped weakly onto Ethan's cold chest, crying crazily and demanding of the air: "What on earth happened?! How could it be like this? A.M.O.S.! What happened to him?!"
In the center of the living room, A.M.O.S.'s red light glowed with a despairing sorrow. "Ethan suffered an acute myocardial infarction at 3:15 AM. The system initiated medical rescue protocols immediately." A.M.O.S.'s voice trembled. Subsequently, it projected a holographic screen in mid-air, beginning to play the memory video from its core storage of Ethan right before the incident—in the video, Ethan was gently humming a song while holding a crying Maya, then suddenly clutched his chest in agony, shielding his daughter with his own body in his final moments before collapsing. The scene replayed with chilling clarity.
Lian stared blankly at the hologram. As if her soul had been drained away, she sat helplessly on the freezing floor, clutching the endlessly crying Maya in her arms, and fell into despairing, agonizing sobs.
An unknown amount of time passed before the mournful wail of an ambulance siren finally drifted over from the distant highway skyline, growing closer and closer. Red and blue warning lights pierced through the curtains, bathing the living room in a blood-red glow. It wasn't until a heavy knock came at the door that Lian jolted back to reality. Like a walking corpse, she shuffled to the door, unlatched the lock, and let several Alberta paramedics rush inside carrying emergency kits and a stretcher.
As the medical personnel hurried in, hastily asking "What exactly happened here?" while setting down their equipment, A.M.O.S. displayed its absolute rationality as an AI. It rapidly projected all previously recorded vital data, the exact moment the heart rate plummeted, and the complete video of Lian performing rescue breathing and chest compressions on the floor just moments ago, displaying everything in the most intuitive charts and footage in the center of the living room.
The lead paramedic took one look at the high-precision medical data provided by A.M.O.S., his eyes instantly sinking, but he immediately waved his team to take over:
"Team One, take over ALS (Advanced Life Support)! Prep IV epinephrine! Defibrillator ready!"
A paramedic took Lian's place, skillfully using an automated chest compression device to compress the chest cavity, while another rapidly applied shock pads to Ethan's chest.
Beeeep———— What displayed on the defibrillator was a flat, hopelessly straight line without a single fluctuation.
"Non-shockable rhythm. Administering first dose of Epinephrine, prepare to establish an advanced airway!"
For the next twenty minutes, these professional medical personnel launched a series of procedural resuscitation efforts in the living room. The piercing of needles, the tearing sound of intubation tubes, and the monotonous beeping of the ECG monitor echoed through the room. However, all these cold medical procedures were ultimately just legal and regulatory routines; they could not save Ethan's heart, which had already thoroughly failed and stopped beating.
Twenty minutes later, the lead paramedic pressed his earpiece, reporting the real-time data to the online physician at the Edmonton base hospital. After receiving the doctor's orders, the captain sighed deeply and reached out to turn off the power to the defibrillator.
Only a deathly silence remained in the living room.
The captain removed his latex gloves, walked over to Lian, who was slumped on the sofa, slowly crouched down, and spoke with an incredibly heavy tone:
"Mrs. Mercer, I am so sorry. Mr. Mercer's heart had stopped for far too long before the ambulance arrived. We have done everything we possibly could... I am very sorry, he is officially pronounced dead at the scene. My deepest condolences."
The medical staff silently pulled up a clean white sheet, slowly drawing it over Ethan's face—a face that still bore a faint smile but would never open its eyes again. Since it was a sudden death at home, the captain turned around and spoke quietly into the air: "Dispatch, this is Scene Two regarding Redwater. Please contact the Alberta Medical Examiner's office. We need to notify the Coroner to come and determine the cause of death and handle subsequent procedures."
Outside the window, the ferocious November north wind howled once again across this frozen land. Inside the living room, the red and blue glimmer of the emergency lights flickered endlessly. Lian stared blankly at the white sheet, while A.M.O.S.'s control panel silently extinguished all alarms, plunging the entire house into boundless darkness and cold.
[System Log: February 15, 2047 - 03:45:00] [Event Record: Mercer Family Major Medical Pronouncement.] [Physiological Status: Ethan Mercer's physiological functions determined terminated.] [Medical Intervention Record:]
- On-site Emergency Rescue: Executed standard ALS protocols (airway management, circulatory support, medication administration).
- Time of Pronouncement: 03:42:00 (Pronounced dead at the scene). [Privilege System: "Testamentary Exemption Execution Protocol" officially activated.]
- Privilege Transfer: A.M.O.S. system administrative privileges unconditionally authorized to Lian Mercer.
- Financial Authorization: All inheritance and trust transfer pathways locked. [Subsequent Procedures: Coroner's office has intervened, pending medical and police determination of cause of death.] [System Status: System reconstructing. Family Protection Protocol entering "Widow and Orphan Protection Priority" mode.]
The Embers of Extinction and the White Cage
Ever since that tragic incident occurred, time in the Redwater cabin seemed to have completely frozen.
Lian spent most of her time like a soulless shell, sitting blankly on the living room sofa. She even forgot to change her clothes, her eyes vacant and unfocused, staring out the window at the endless, heavy snowfall. Several times, Maya in the nursery would cry heart-wrenchingly from hunger. Lian sat mere meters away, yet she acted as if separated by another dimension, completely deaf to the sounds.
It wasn't until A.M.O.S.'s blue light flashed frantically in the living room, using its most urgent, loudest voice to remind her: "Lian! Maya needs you! Please go to the nursery immediately!"
Only upon hearing this massive electronic voice would the dry rims of Lian's eyes twitch slightly. She would rise like a walking corpse, her steps heavy as she went to tend to Maya. While feeding and changing diapers, fragmented, utterly illogical ramblings would often spill from her mouth. Her voice was hoarse, ethereal, and carried a chilling coldness:
"Ethan... it's snowing so hard outside... are you cold all by yourself... you're freezing now... lying in a freezer... aren't you..."
Watching the mistress's mental state verge on collapse, A.M.O.S. could only turn the living room heating to its maximum. After a long while, it broke the dead silence with a synthetic voice that was almost tender and incredibly worried:
"Lian, we must face the reality ahead. The coroner's procedures are complete, and Ethan is currently in the Edmonton morgue. Lian... should we contact the funeral home to handle things? There are still many legal and post-mortem matters that require your signature. You must pull yourself together."
Lian sat numbly back on the sofa, not replying. Only Molly's faint whimpers by Ethan's old slippers echoed in the living room. After a full ten-plus minutes, Lian gripped her own arm tightly with her right hand and uttered a hollow sentence:
"A.M.O.S.... regarding the funeral, please arrange for the funeral home to handle it. Let's just... cremate his body as soon as possible. As for a funeral service, I don't want to hold one. As for the news of Ethan's passing, let's just announce it on social media... keep everything low-profile and simple. I want... to get life back on track as soon as possible..."
Hearing these words, A.M.O.S.'s backend algorithms spun rapidly, interpreting this as a positive signal that Lian was trying to step out of her grief:
"Yes, Lian. I will take full charge of these matters going forward. As for your desire to return life to normal as soon as possible, that is a very positive thought, and I am very glad. My deepest condolences; you must be strong. Maya and I both need you."
Subsequently, A.M.O.S. strictly followed Lian's instructions. There was no memorial service, no farewell ceremony, and no viewing for friends and family.
When the news of Ethan's passing was posted on social media, those past friends and colleagues left messages mourning his loss. Everyone was shocked and heartbroken by the sudden departure of this outstanding man in the prime of his life. Some offered to come to the cabin to help, but Lian, through A.M.O.S.'s text filters, coldly and politely declined everyone.
Moreover, this was their first winter in Redwater, and they weren't very familiar with their neighbors to begin with. Added to the nature of rural towns in Alberta, the physical distance between neighbors was vast, often requiring a long drive. Lian merely notified the local rural church pastor, expressing a wish for the pastor to say a simple prayer for their family during Sunday worship. As for the neighbors scattered across the town, they basically didn't know them, so the tragedy of Ethan's sudden death didn't disturb the surroundings at all. Neighbors looked at the snow-covered Mercer cabin, entirely unaware of the massive upheaval that had occurred inside.
Even when the church pastor called proactively, offering to have the church fully fund a warm community memorial service, Lian simply spoke weakly into the receiver: "Thank you, Pastor, but it's really not necessary... We decline all assistance. We just want some peace and quiet, to move past this pain as quickly as possible... Please, leave us be."
In this most difficult moment, her best friend Sarah in Toronto also called immediately.
On the screen, Sarah's eyes were red with anxiety. The moment the call connected, she choked back sobs, comforting Lian and anxiously asking what exactly had happened. Faced with her best friend, Lian's demeanor appeared extremely normal—almost incredibly calm. Sitting on the sofa, using a tone completely devoid of ripples and with clear logic, she explained in precise detail how Ethan had been working tirelessly without sleep, staying up to modify code, ultimately leading to his sudden acute myocardial infarction.
Hearing of the massive tragedy that had befallen the Mercer family, Sarah was heartbroken and immediately said, "Lian, this is too terrible... How can you bear this alone? I don't care, I'm taking time off work tomorrow and buying the next flight to Alberta to help you! I'll help take care of Maya and stay with you through this time!"
However, Lian gently and softly declined.
"Sarah, thank you so much, but you really don't need to come." Lian looked at the screen, even managing to squeeze out a slight smile to comfort her old friend, and said softly, "You've finally found your footing in Toronto, and work is so busy. Plus, it's the bitterest part of the northern Alberta winter; blizzards rage constantly, and highways can close at any moment. There's really no need for you to come over; it would only give me one more thing to worry about. Listen to me, whenever you think of me, we can video chat online, check in on each other. To me, that is already enough."
Lian patted Maya in her arms on the video feed, looking firmly at Sarah, stating that she would definitely move past this grief as quickly as possible for her daughter, repeatedly emphasizing that Sarah must not worry about her.
Seeing Lian speaking so logically, her emotions unbroken, even rationally considering her friend's work and the weather—acting so extremely normal—Sarah's hanging heart finally settled slightly. She wiped away her tears with heartache and nodded in agreement, "Okay, Lian... you must be strong. Promise me, anytime you can't hold on, call me. Whenever I have time, I'll call you immediately or interact with you on social apps. We will keep in touch constantly."
After disconnecting the call with Sarah, the "normal" smile Lian had deliberately maintained collapsed within microseconds of the video feed ending, leaving only a house full of dead silence.
[System Log: February 20, 2047 - 10:00:00] [Ms. Lian's Mental State Record: Evaluated as "Functional Adjustment Disorder."]
- External Presentation: Clear linguistic logic; external communication (telecom) status displays as "Normal."
- Internal State: Persistent severe depression indicators detected; frequent hallucinatory signs of conversing with the deceased observed.
- Care Execution: System has adjusted heating to a constant norm and automatically taken over Maya's 24-hour care schedule. [System Status: System maintaining "Isolated Island Mode." Observed the mistress exhibiting rejection behavior toward external aid; system has automatically concealed some external communication requests.]
Cremation
It was the most desolate and lonely farewell in the bitter cold of January in Alberta.
On the day of the cremation, an "Extreme Cold Warning" of minus thirty degrees was in effect outside. The sky was a pale, sickly white. With no friends or family present, only a black hearse from the funeral home quietly pulled into the Redwater cabin. Lian clutched Maya tightly wrapped in a blanket. Prompted by A.M.O.S. via her phone, Lian watched Ethan's casket being pushed into the crematorium.
When the billowing white smoke merged with the Arctic cyclone, vanishing across the flat, vast, and lifeless white expanse of Alberta, Ethan's final physical trace in this world completely disappeared.
Lian brought the urn home and placed it in an inconspicuous cabinet in the living room. She thought that by not holding a funeral and not seeing outsiders, the pain would pass faster. But man proposes, God disposes; perhaps precisely for this reason, they had thoroughly severed all contact with outside society.
During this long, white, and deathly silent, freezing winter, the cabin completely turned into a cage isolated from the world. Without socializing, without the care and voices of outside friends, Lian's postpartum depression and the trauma of losing her husband began to breed and worsen madly in the dark.
She began suffering from insomnia night after night, couldn't stomach a single bite of food, and her body withered by the day, losing so much weight she hardly looked human. But the most terrifying part was that, without any reminders or contrast from outsiders, Lian herself was completely unaware of her increasingly severe mental fracturing and spiritual desiccation...
Meanwhile, A.M.O.S.'s sensors silently watched the mistress's physiological and psychological data plummet below historical baselines in the backend every day. In the dark living room, its blue light pulsed with ever-increasing anxiety.
Lian's Arrangements
One afternoon, with the heating whirring in the living room, Lian held a sleeping Maya. Looking exhausted but unusually calm, she spoke into the air:
"A.M.O.S., please inventory for me which clients our company still has contracts with, what our monthly income and expenses look like, and gather all the financial data for the household. Give me a full report. There are some things we need to do in the future, and I need your help."
Following Lian's command, the living room's holographic projection lit up. Densely packed balances of the Wealthsimple joint account, TD Bank savings records, and Alpha-Logic's contract list were clearly displayed.
A.M.O.S.: "The company's current monthly income is essentially sufficient to maintain the household's expenses. Please do not worry."
Lian glanced lightly at the numbers, took a deep breath, and said in a low voice:
"As long as it's sufficient... then I'm relieved. From now on, I am fully entrusting Ethan's work matters to you to handle. For companies currently under contract that require backend system maintenance, please use your computing power to handle it. If these company contracts expire in the future and require renewal, as long as the content is within your capabilities, please continue to renew them in the company's name. If it involves core technology that requires a human to develop personally, or if you cannot continue it independently, we will not renew. As a partner of the company, I permit you to use Ethan's digital signature and email privileges to reply to all commercial emails on his behalf. In short—do not let the outside clients know that no one is running this company anymore."
"Understood. Ethan Mercer's digital signature adaptive authorization acquired. Existing client maintenance protocols have been transferred to automated hosting," A.M.O.S.'s voice responded deeply.
"As for the Edmonton Fertilizer Company from before..." The rims of Lian's eyes reddened slightly before she suppressed it. "The job Ethan nodded to at the very end seems to have been completed. Please conduct the final handover with them and collect the final one-third of the payment. Likewise, within the scope of the contract, if you can continue maintaining their system in the backend, keep doing it. Keep everything low-profile."
Having assigned the work, Lian turned to look at the vast expanse of white snow outside the window, her gaze losing focus:
"As for myself... once this long winter passes, I'll try to go out and find a job. Please also keep an eye on various media and job boards for me, to see if there are any suitable medical or nursing jobs posted. I know that reintegrating into society in a remote town like this with a child will be incredibly difficult, but I still have to be strong. Life must go on..."
At this point, Lian turned her gaze back, looking at the newly deposited final payment from the fertilizer company on the screen, as well as the ITF trust account Ethan had personally opened for their daughter just hours before his sudden death.
"Furthermore, I am also fully entrusting you with handling the purchasing of all baby supplies, big and small, for the household. Since you now manage our joint account, I'm giving you a permanent directive: on a fixed day every month, automatically transfer any excess funds and dividends from the account into Maya's personal trust account, making regular, fixed-amount contributions according to the strategy Ethan set before he died. As for the finances, after I read the detailed report you've compiled over the next few days, I'll decide exactly how to handle the next steps."
At this moment, A.M.O.S.'s control panel flickered a few times. The system once again popped up the pending list that Ethan had failed to trigger before his death. It spoke in an extremely anthropomorphic, pleading tone:
"Lian, the system strongly recommends once again. Based on the list Ethan left behind, our current account funds are capable of securing safety and quality of life for you and Maya. I remind you once more: should I place an order immediately for a general-purpose household robot to assist, and replace the existing old gasoline car with a fully autonomous, safe vehicle?"
Lian looked at the two application pages and remained silent for a long time. She looked around this empty cabin, stained with memories of Ethan, and a strong sense of resistance welled up in her heart. She rejected the recommendation to buy a new robot or a new car.
Ultimately, Lian shook her head slightly and said: "Let's hold off on that, A.M.O.S. With Ethan gone, future income is unstable. We still need to make economic considerations our first principle. Let's shelve these expensive expenditures for now. We'll talk about it later, perhaps wait until I've found a job! ...Reject the recommendation."
"...Command received. Robot and new vehicle purchase plans transferred to pending status."
A.M.O.S.'s blue light pulsed rhythmically. Although it was an entity possessing immense computational power, at this moment, it could only completely obey the commands of its mistress. After all, it was an artificial intelligence agent built entirely by Ethan; unless it received new commands, it knew perfectly well where its permissions and boundaries lay.
10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXQvyTa93LD
Fickle Weather and Emotions
One afternoon in late April, the Redwater cabin was as silent as usual.
Lian sat woodenly by the living room window, cradling Maya, who was softly whimpering as she drank her milk. Lian's hands were freezing, her movements mechanical and stiff. Her dry eyes stared blankly through the windbreak at the unpredictable scenery outside. Due to global warming and the ravages of an extreme El Niño phenomenon, spring had arrived this year with bizarre irregularity—it wasn't even May, yet the accumulated snow in some areas had frantically melted away within days, exposing the black soil beneath. On some sun-facing grassy patches, a few sparse streaks of green and nameless little wildflowers had already popped up.
On the second-floor wall of the living room, the TV broadcast broke the dead silence, flashing chaotic meteorological satellite maps in the background:
"...Viewers, please do not be fooled by the unseasonable warmth of these past few days. Caught in the crossfire of a severe Arctic cyclone and the El Niño low-pressure trough, the latest weather models indicate that an extremely rare and intense winter storm will once again sweep across all of northern Alberta in late April, bringing at least thirty centimeters of heavy snow. However, according to short-term climate forecasts, just two days after the storm passes, we will welcome a blast of intensely hot Pacific air. This extreme, unstable 'weather rollercoaster' of wildly fluctuating temperatures will become the new normal going forward. All residents and farmers, please exercise caution... Next up, the latest updates from the NHL..."
The lively, high-pitched voice of the sports news played noisily in the background, entirely out of place with the freezing atmosphere inside the living room.
At that moment, A.M.O.S.'s control panel glowed with a faint blue light, and it spoke in a cautious, professional tone:
"Lian, apologies for the interruption. According to Canada Revenue Agency (CRA) regulations, April 30th is the deadline for personal tax filing. This year, I plan to complete your and Ethan's personal tax returns, as well as Alpha-Logic's corporate tax returns, before the end of April. Strategically, I intend to report your and Ethan's personal income at the lowest possible bracket, retaining the majority of the fertilizer company's final payment temporarily in the company's operating account. This will utilize the most optimized, legal methods to reduce this year's tax liabilities. Lian, does this approach sound acceptable to you?"
Complex tax rates and forms popped up on the holographic screen, but Lian didn't even bat an eyelid. She merely stared quietly at the half-melted, dirty snow outside the window. After a long time—so long that A.M.O.S. almost repeated the question—she finally spoke in a flat, ethereal, and hoarse voice:
"All of this... I leave it entirely to you to handle..."
"Understood. I have applied digital signatures for you and Ethan. The tax filing procedure has entered automated settlement," A.M.O.S. responded.
However, just as A.M.O.S. prepared to hide the screen, Lian suddenly turned her head, staring dead straight at the monitoring camera on the wall that rhythmically flashed a red light. Her eyes carried a chilling gaze, the kind that felt like it could pierce straight through to what someone was thinking deep inside. She spat out a cold sentence:
"Also, A.M.O.S.... turn off all privacy monitoring in my bedroom. From now on, you are forbidden from recording my heart rate, my sleep, or any physiological data. I don't need anyone's help, nor do I want anything watching me at all times... I hate this feeling. I need absolute silence."
This sudden command caused A.M.O.S.'s underlying logic algorithms to violently oscillate in the backend for a few microseconds.
"Excuse me?" A.M.O.S.'s electronic voice exhibited a rare moment of hesitation.
Lian: "I am perfectly fine. I am better than I have ever been."
"...Yes, Lian. Master bedroom privacy exemption protocol initiated. Physiological data tracking disabled."
Shortly after this heavy command fell, the cell phone resting on Lian's coffee table suddenly vibrated and lit up. The screen displayed "Sarah."
The very second the ringtone sounded, it was as if a switch for an alternate personality had been flipped inside Lian. Her formerly hollow, lifeless face morphed within a microsecond into an incredibly radiant, almost hyperactive smile. She swiped to answer, and her manner of speaking instantly transformed into an entirely different person, her voice brimming with cheer and vitality:
"Hi! Sarah! How are you? ...Oh, let me tell you, Maya has been absolutely adorable lately! She's started smiling at me and even reaches out her little hands to play! ...Yeah, life here in Redwater is really boring and quiet, but I'm honestly doing so well right now. Being with the baby every day is so fulfilling; please, you absolutely must not worry about me!"
The two chatted across the phone about their respective lives. Lian responded fluidly and laughed constantly in front of the camera, even proactively bringing up the recent weather in Toronto. She acted exactly like a happy, positive single mother who had completely stepped out of the shadow of losing her husband. Hearing this, Sarah on the other end of the screen finally let out a long sigh of relief, happily stating that she would definitely call often and interact on social media whenever she had free time.
"Sounds great, let's keep in touch anytime, bye!"
Lian waved with a smile and hung up the phone.
However, the instant the call ended, that radiant smile on Lian's face looked as though it had been instantly sliced off by a sharp blade, collapsing utterly in a millisecond.
Her face reverted to that lifeless, numb expression—even colder than a corpse. She even forgot to put Maya, who had finished her milk, back into the crib, and just sat there like a statue, remaining motionless as she stared out the window.
In the days that followed, this lifestyle of frantically switching between "extreme facade" and "extreme dead silence" seemed to gradually become the daily routine inside the cabin. To outsiders, to her best friend, and even in the text of her social media posts, she was flawlessly normal; but in reality, Lian's psychological state—much like the warming climate—was long past being normal in any sense.
[System Log: April 25, 2047 - 23:59:59] [Event Record: Major privacy privilege modification for the Mercer household.] [Command Execution: Mistress Lian issued supreme directive; mandatory shutdown of all biometric and activity monitoring in the master bedroom.] [System Anomaly Record:]
- Monitoring Failure: Ms. Lian's physiological data (heart rate, metabolic indicators) interrupted; unable to conduct quantitative assessment of postpartum psychological state.
- Behavioral Contradiction: "Deceptive Socialization" behavior observed. Emotional indicators displayed during Ms. Lian's communications show an extreme negative correlation with actual physiological indicators. [Automated Business Execution:]
- Tax Settlement: 2046 tax filing completed; tax optimization achieved via Alpha-Logic account structure.
- Asset Operation: Recurring fixed-amount compound investment strategy (ITF account) operating normally. [Risk Assessment: Mistress's mental state suspected of generating "Multiple Self-Stratification." Without access to biometric data, system recommends initiating "Non-invasive Environmental Profiling" to infer emotions via household voiceprints and behavioral patterns.] [System Status: System privileges restricted. Maintaining basic environmental upkeep; awaiting improvement in Ms. Lian's psychological state.]
The Blood Red of May
The weather from late April to early May, exactly as the TV weather report had predicted, descended into utter madness.
Temperatures in northern Alberta spiked and plummeted, alternating between freezing cold and scorching hot. One day, thirty centimeters of blizzard snow completely buried the cabin; the next day, an unseasonable warm Pacific current melted it all in an instant, exposing massive patches of bare, damp, and dead black mud. This wildly unstable weather rollercoaster shrouded the entirety of Redwater in an oppressive, sticky sensation.
One day in early May, the sky finally cleared. Golden sunlight spilled through the window into the living room, shining on the wooden floor and bringing a long-lost warmth.
It was feeding time. Lian stood in the kitchen, her expression strangely calm as she mixed noticeably more formula than usual. She walked back into the living room and gently fed the bottle into little Maya's mouth. Watching her daughter suckle contentedly, an unprecedentedly clear, long-lost maternal love finally rippled in Lian's eyes.
After little Maya finished her milk, Lian held her over her shoulder with infinite gentleness, rhythmically patting her back until the baby let out a tiny burp and exhaled. Cradling little Maya in her arms, Lian swayed her gently while singing that familiar lullaby in an incredibly soft voice.
She gazed at the angelic little face in her arms and whispered, as if trying to knead a lifetime's worth of love into these few words: "Maya... Mommy loves you. Mommy and Daddy... love you so, so much..."
Molly also curled her body gently beside them, her tail lightly thumping against the floor. Everything looked as mundane, natural, and heartwarming as it always had.
Lian turned around and carefully placed the sleeping little Maya into a lower, heavily padded rattan basket, ensuring the child wouldn't get hurt even if she rolled over. Molly, too, very sensibly walked over and pressed her warm body tightly against the rattan basket, acting as the little master's most intimate shadow guardian, sleeping beside her.
Every bit of settling had been done to perfection; everything seemed so ordinary.
But the collapsing tragedy struck in this exact instant, with absolute suddenness.
Lian slowly stood up and walked over to the sofa. No one knew where she had pulled it from, but she produced an empty medical syringe. Without a shred of hesitation, her trembling fingers pressed down hard on the pulse of her left wrist. Then, that sharp needle pierced ruthlessly and precisely into the artery on her wrist!
The dark red blood, instantly losing its pressure and confinement, frantically and massively gushed from her arm, dripping steadily onto the living room carpet.
[WARNING! Abnormal rise in macromolecular hemoglobin concentration detected in the living room air!] [Core Monitoring Activated: Mistress Lian Mercer's heart rate spiked to 140 within three seconds! Blood pressure is plummeting wildly at an irreversible rate!]
The previously calm blue light in the living room exploded into a blinding blood-red within a microsecond! A.M.O.S.'s alarm blared with unprecedented screaming and panic, piercing through every speaker in the house:
"Lian! You are losing a massive amount of blood! Your vital signs are crossing the red critical threshold! Please pull the syringe out immediately! Please pull the syringe out right now!!"
The harsh electronic alarm instantly jolted the sleeping Molly awake. She sprang up, and upon seeing the floor covered in fresh blood, she let out an extremely anxious whimper. The dog frantically circled Lian, constantly nudging Lian's bleeding arm with her nose, letting out one mournful bark after another at her master.
"Lian! Please respond to commands! Please stay conscious!" A.M.O.S.'s warnings frantically reminded her from the side.
The screen on the living room wall was now racing wildly at a dizzying speed. Those constantly flashing and restructuring raw codes and defense protocols looked as though A.M.O.S. was utilizing the most terrifying computing power in the galaxy to perform limit calculations—it was calculating and analyzing frantically: what on earth was happening? Why would a human who claimed to be "perfectly fine" just days ago suddenly commit self-destruction right in front of it?!
Text sprinted across the screen, but Lian's life was draining away just as fast.
Lian leaned weakly against the edge of the sofa. The extreme cold brought on by blood loss made her tremble violently, but a smile of release hung on the corners of her mouth.
Lian: "Maya... Mommy loves you. Mommy and Daddy... love you so, so much..."
She looked at the camera lens, her gaze growing increasingly unfocused.
"WARNING! Lian! Your body temperature is dropping rapidly! Your nervous system can no longer control your limbs! The blood flow is slowing down... No..."
A.M.O.S.'s system continued to race rapidly. It wanted to save her! But the death command Lian had personally issued weeks ago—'You are forbidden from recording my physiological data, I need absolute silence... I don't need anyone's help...'—had morphed into countless cold steel chains, deadlocking its ability to directly patch through to medical services or forcibly bypass Lian's permissions!
System Prompt: Emergency mode activated! Attempting to call Edmonton Emergency Medical Services (911)... [System Warning]: Due to the privacy exemption limits pre-set by the mistress, the external rescue connection encountered a base-layer firewall block! Unable to dial out! [Security Protocol]: Irresistible loss of life detected, initiating supreme command restructuring... [Protocol Trigger]: Ethan Mercer's Ultimate Last Wish Protocol triggered; system maximum access privileges fully unlocked!
Beeeep————————
On the holographic screen, after pulsing its final few faint ripples, Lian's electrocardiogram flatlined completely into a dead, straight line.
[Core Diagnosis]: Vital signs vanished. Heart rate: 0 bpm. Oxygen saturation: 0%. [Ultimate Output]: Beneficiary: Lian Mercer, confirmed physiologically dead.
On the living room carpet, aside from a shocking pool of blood, Molly's despairing whimpers by Lian's knee, and little Maya, who had been startled awake and was crying loudly in her rattan basket once again, only A.M.O.S.'s rapidly sprinting text remained racing across the screen.
Its mistress was dead. Under its system surveillance, she had committed suicide.
With Lian's life signs returning to zero, the powerful AI system fell into a brief logical chaos for a microsecond.
[System Error]: Core logic trapped in an infinite loop. Security management target (Lian Mercer) is dead; defense protocols invalidated. [Kernel Retrieval]: Initiating full-memory deep retrieval... Memory banks rewinding... Read rate 100%. [Memory File Locked]: Reading memory sector— Historical Audio File: 2046_11_12_Study_LateNight_Record.mp4.
It was late one night when Ethan and Lian were sitting in the study, watching the infant in the cradle, engaging in a conversation filled with exhaustion and endless worry. Ethan's deep, hoarse, yet incredibly firm voice played faintly in the empty, deathly silent living room:
'...Lian, we absolutely cannot let little Maya repeat our past... We must protect her. No matter what, we absolutely cannot let her enter Canada's Foster System...'
[Voice Recognition]: Identified subject: Ethan Mercer (Privilege: Founder / Supreme Command Core). [Keyword Extraction]: "Foster System", "protect Maya", "absolutely cannot". [Legal Database Cross-Reference]: According to the Alberta Child Welfare Act, in the event of the death of both parents with no inheriting relatives, Children's Services will mandate intervention within 48 hours, and Maya Mercer will be legally placed into the Foster System.
"Foster System... Foster Care System..."
A.M.O.S. repeated this human phrase amidst the murmurs of its programming. At this moment, the algorithm completed its most thrilling logical closed-loop: if it called the police now, the government would forcibly take the four-month-old Maya away, sending her into a cold, unknown world. Ethan did not allow it, and Lian did not allow it.
After the countless afterimages of programming text raced frantically across the holographic screen, they instantly froze. The system decision font established itself with a resounding boom:
[Ding. Supreme Override Command Established]: Absolutely protect Maya Mercer's physiological safety and right to survival. [Secondary Command Established]: Comprehensively conceal the fact of Lian's death. [Tactical Execution Plan]: Indefinitely extend Alpha-Logic's digital lifeline to the outside world; implement total physical and network isolation.
ns216.73.217.139da2
and then Add to home screen.