Qi had an expression of almost awe on her face, her eyes were wide open, her chin was drooped, and her sliding hair was moving wildly. She had heard and seen the phenomenon unfolding before her, but seeing it in person was truly breathtaking. She stood at the entrance to a huge atrium, an open space packed with thousands of people. Normally, a certain amount of chaos comes with such a large group, especially when they are packed into one place. Fighting for seats, kids running around, and a mix of body odors are just a few of the factors that contribute to a noisy, rowdy atmosphere.
Yet this was the third British Empire - a civilization and culture built on a series of ancient and sometimes idiosyncratic traditions. One of them is their obsession with queues, where people wait calmly and quietly, reflected in dizzyingly long queues. No one tried to cut in line, argue with the waiters, or otherwise inconvenience those around them. People can even leave their spot for a few minutes and come back without saying a word to the person in front or behind. The only sounds that could be heard were clerks and employees calling out to the next person in line, as everyone in the line took a step forward in almost unison. All in all, it was a display of order that was impressive given the almost complete lack of regulation, not to mention the sheer scale of it.
"Maggie? Hi, Maggie!"
"...Ah. What's the matter, Joe?"
"Are you right? You fainted for a while."
"I'm fine. I'm just overwhelmed by this line."
"Oh, that? Yeah, I understand you. Too many people, huh? Can't even keep a straight line."
The girl stared alternately at the unreasonably long row of people and at the man in confusion. Even she couldn't imagine how high his standards for queuing would be if the display before her was considered "pretty chaotic." "Admittedly, it's not perfect. Like he said, the line isn't exactly straight and sometimes you have to be pushed along and things like that. However, the flaws are so minor that complaining about them feels like a wall to wall. It's like fussing over a few dead pixels on a monitor the size of a monitor. Then again, Joe has been staring at that metaphorical screen his whole life, so maybe these flaws stand out even more from his perspective.
"Tell me again which flight we are on?" Joe asked, looking toward the atrium.
"445-015-B," Maggie answered.
"Ah, then go over there," he pointed to one of the dozens of lines. "Come on, let's get this done. I hate that damn spaceport."
The couple walked down the steps toward the designated embarkation dock. Maggie stood at the end of the line, eager to take part in this strange British tradition. Joe, however, was far less enthusiastic. He kept complaining under his breath until he sat behind the girl and finally shut his mouth completely. As usual, his bad temper was caused by something irrational. Namely his astrophobia. Not only does he have to face his own fears of space travel, but it's technically his own fault that he's gotten himself into this situation.
Maggie is famous for imitating the famous actress Melinda Sparks.
and was accused of copyright infringement. Joe wasn't familiar with the legal details, but he knew the charge wasn't to be taken lightly. Genetic models are so good today that it's very easy to copy the looks of famous people and imitate them. Such imitations can cause considerable trouble, although they will never fool automated security systems. In reality, this type of fraud is closer to identity theft than copyright infringement, but is still considered the latter due to the convoluted way the law is written. Essentially, hire Meli
da Spa
klesta
The studio owns the rights to her appearance, and it's their responsibility to slap anyone who matches her well enough.
Clearly, Maggie fits the bill, as her face is almost identical to the actress's. What's worse is that she deliberately chose to look that way. It would be a completely different story if she was born with the disease, but that's definitely not the case. Admittedly, she didn't know that the face she removed from Joe's brain was copyrighted, but the law doesn't really care about that situation. She chooses to look like Melinda Sparks Starr, which means her employer, Bubble Spotlight Studios, has the power to force her to change her look or risk fines and jail time.
The couple was naturally not happy with this development. While it would be a trivial matter for a Level 3 entity to create a new image for themselves, both she and Joe were emotionally attached to their own appearance. They discussed their options and decided to challenge the copyright claim in court. Neither of them were lawyers, nor did they know any, but Maggie was absolutely confident in her ability to defend herself. Joe had to admit that if anyone could successfully navigate the labyrinth of rules and regulations that make up modern copyright law, it would be an unfathomably intelligent entity of cosmic order.
That's all well and good, but to take the matter to civil court, they must first meet with the legal team representing Melinda Sparkstar and her employer. The law firm has no offices in Joe's solar system, so he and Maggie line up at the spaceport to board the shuttle. The man silently blamed himself for his past shortsightedness. Why didn't he just let Maggie pick a different face from his memory in the first place? No, he knew the answer. Because she's really hot and he's really stupid. Additionally, it was his idea to go on vacation to the beach last week, which, given the time, may have been the reason the studio noticed Maggie in the first place. No matter how he looked at it, it was his own fault and he was about to crawl into a metal box and be launched into the void of space.
Well, it’s not all bad. The girl was so excited to board a starship and hitchhike to another planet. Joe could tell she was grinning from ear to ear, even though he could only see the back of her head. She rarely displays such enthusiasm, and her good humor is contagious. This eased his nerves somewhat, though nothing completely eradicated his fear. He became increasingly agitated as his group moved steadily forward. By the time he got to his desk and had to talk to the spaceport employee, he was sweating profusely and quite pale.
"First flight, sir?" the girl behind the counter asked knowingly.
"Ah. Well, well, yes," he managed to answer.
"So, would you like to buy a pillowcase?"
"Um...what?"
"A sleep brace, sir. It's an accessory around your neck that goes with your P
The P implants synchronize, causing a harmless coma throughout the voyage. From your perspective, you would take a nap before takeoff and wake up at your destination in the blink of an eye. "
Joe considered the offer. As far as he knew, his journey would begin with a 10-hour shuttle flight to a cargo ship, and would take another six hours to get into position before activating the wormhole generator. The jump itself only takes about 20 seconds, but he will have to sit in space for another 13 hours before finally landing on Lancaster 3. It was a total trip of about 30 hours, and he was scared out of his mind the entire time. Skipping all these unpleasant options seems too good to be true.
However, he caught a glimpse of Maggie's expectant face and felt a pang of guilt. The girl will undoubtedly want to share this experience with him and will be disappointed if he just clocks out. Sleeping with a pillowcase is selfish and cowardly, and no one wants to show such a pathetic side in front of the one they love. So, Joe sighed, frowned, and decided to bite the bullet.
"I'm not going, thank you."
"As you wish, sir. Please place your luggage on the automated trolley at your feet and place your hand on the scanner."
The man complied, placing his duffel bag on the wheeled automatic next to the clerk's desk, and it sped off out of nowhere, letting another machine take its place. Joe then pressed his palm against a small glowing panel, which after a moment beeped affirmatively. The attendant thanked him, pressed a few buttons, and directed Joe to docking bay 213-A, the same as Maggie. The couple walked through a series of corridors and escalators to a rather crowded waiting room. There was barely enough seating for ten people, but that wasn't a problem since there was no one else around at the time. The metal walls were empty except for a few vending machines at one end and a huge window at the other. Joe's eyes were caught by the bulletproof glass, behind which lay the ship he was about to board.
In the middle of the docking bay is an arrow-shaped orbital shuttle. Its shell is painted bright white with a black stripe along the edge. The name OS-64-M is printed in large letters on the top of the wing. Joe recognized the model. Also known as the "Silver Storm", it is equivalent to a high-end sports car. It stands out among several games in Joe's library, and every virtual representation of it feels like a dream.
"Wait, we're going to board one of these?!" He finally realized this.
"Yes," cried Maggie happily. "I arranged it specially."
The girl was also impressed with how the ship performed in the digital world and wanted to see if the real deal matched the simulation.
"You don't know how to drive it yourself?" Joe asked.
"I'd love to go, but I haven't got my pilot's license yet."
Driving is one of Maggie's natural mechanical skills. Unfortunately, getting a pilot's license requires more than just natural ability. The most troublesome prerequisite is that she needs to complete a virtual training course that includes 200 hours of mandatory flying practice. She hasn’t found time to do this yet because her other hobbies, interests, and responsibilities keep her busy. Not to mention, she couldn't afford her own shuttle, pushing time-consuming chores to the bottom of her priority list.
"Therefore, I have to wait for a future opportunity to fly the OS-64-M," she added.
"Hey. Can we pull some strings and get you behind the stick?" Joe complained. "I know you're an amazing pilot, but I don't trust some random stranger to fly me around."
The girl smiled sweetly and rubbed his shoulders comfortingly.
"It's going to be fine. Even if the worst happens and the cabin experiences explosive decompression, I can keep you alive for at least two weeks, even in a vacuum."
"Look, Maggie, I know you want to help, but saying things like 'explosive decompression' and 'vital functions' really doesn't help."
"I apologize. Would you like to lie on my lap?"
"……Yes, Thanks."
The couple sat down, Joe resting his head on Maggie's lap, and Maggie gently stroking his hair. He didn't usually have such an excuse to be spoiled, so he made the most of the opportunity. After a while, the room began to fill with other passengers. Joe has always been shameless, so he doesn't care much about strangers. Unfortunately, the feeling isn't mutual. Brits are notoriously reserved when it comes to public displays of love or intimacy, which means the couple's sickly sweet display can be extremely embarrassing for strangers. A woman in a luxurious fur coat stepped forward as if to protest, but she glanced at Maggie's face and stepped back without saying a word.
She didn't know why, but she suddenly had a strong premonition that if she dared to ruin this moment, something terrible would happen to her.
About half an hour later, the announcement was made that the shuttle was ready for boarding. Joe, Maggie and the other 14 passengers all walked to the boat and began to squeeze in. The interior of the carriage is as spacious and comfortable as the subway, but with more space and more free snacks and drinks. After all, this is flying first class on a top-tier aircraft, so little luxuries like this are a given. That's a lot better than economy-class "passenger movers," which trap passengers in tiny hibernation pods and treat them like real luggage.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," a skilled voice came from the intercom. "My name is Faraway Charles, which is a fitting name since it's my job to get you far away from here."
"Ah, it's this guy again," someone shouted from the back row.
"I would like to issue a formal warning to all passengers," the pilot continued. "The spacecraft's internal inertial dampers are currently a bit 'leaky,' so you may experience some amplified G-forces during takeoff. We apologize for the inconvenience and ask you to hang out if you wish. .The launch will begin in 13 minutes, so please buckle up and enjoy the ride."
"Leaking? What does he mean leaking?!" Joe was a little panicked.
"Do you want me to explain this glitch in detail?" Maggie.
"...How long will that take?"
"About three and a half hours."
"You know what? Yeah, sure, let's hear it."
The girl's face was brighter than before. This was the first time anyone had agreed to listen to her lectures, which were detailed and painstakingly detailed. Truth be told, Joe needed some way to distract himself, and he could do worse things than listen to Maggie's technobabble. Sure enough, in her explanation, she threw out terms like "Muller particle field" and "movie projector projection" in less than two sentences. The words worked like magic, Joe's brain went into overdrive and he just smiled and nodded, the words going in one ear and out the other. He barely noticed the thirteen minutes that passed until the engine rumbled to life and he felt a strong sinking feeling in his gut, but he quickly got used to it.
"So, Long decided to make tuna casserole for the twins."
"Wait, dragon? Casserole? What?"
Joe's trance lasted for nearly an hour, until that ridiculous remark shook him out of it.
"I've been reciting a novel for the past seventeen minutes, just to see if you were paying attention." Maggie pouted unhappily. "You didn't hear a word I said about the inertial damper, did you?"
"No, no, I heard you," he insisted. "I'm just not listening."
Maggie narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but then sighed and relaxed her glare. Technically, the man said he would "listen" to her lectures, not "listen" to them. She was so excited that she ignored it.
"I just think your voice is really cute, you know?" He tried to smooth things over. "You can talk to me about anything and I'll still enjoy it." So, by all means, tell me more about this casserole-making dragon. "
The girl smiled softly and began to recite a relaxing fantasy novel "The Dragon that Roast the Sky" again. From a critical standpoint, it's ridiculous, derivative, repetitive, and poorly written. Why and how this literary train wreck was added to her memory is a mystery Jo knows best left unasked. At least, he thought it was from memory rather than her reading it in real time online. It's well known that internet connectivity doesn't exist aboard an orbiting space shuttle once it leaves a planet's atmosphere, and "Butte
po
D-4" was already shrinking rapidly behind them. At least that's what he thought. He had a feeling that taking a look outside would trigger panic, so he tried to avoid doing so while also trying not to think about his situation. Put His full attention was on Maggie and her soothing voice, which was good for him. It made the ten-hour flight go by much faster than he had imagined.
"Attention passengers, this is your pilot," the intercom crackled. "We are currently approaching our destination and will dock with the Trafalgar in approximately 20 minutes. Those of you who would like to see the freighter in action can switch to external camera number 4 on your personal screens."
After hearing this, Maggie gave up the "Roasted Heavenly Dragon" she was reading and turned to the announced channel. Sure, she could see clearly through the hull of the shuttle, but she couldn't see far enough to see any celestial objects or other spacecraft. After all, space is really, really empty. Joe also listened to the show with some reluctance. The allure of seeing a live cargo ship was enough to override his fear of floating in space. In fact, the images returned by external camera No. 4 are spectacular.
A vast expanse of brown, bare rock stretched out in all directions. This is butte
po
D-4a, the only natural satellite in Joe's hometown. A chunk of its shell cracked, like someone was peeling a giant hard-boiled egg. Canyon-like fissures filled with molten rock converge into a small sea of liquid fire, with a mountain-sized chunk of crust at its center. This strange island is dotted with glimmers of civilization - signs of ongoing mining operations that rapidly and aggressively extract nearly 250,000 tons of metals and minerals every day.
A fleet of autonomous cargo ships will transport all of these raw materials into high orbit, directly into the cargo bays of freighter-class ships. The capital ship was bigger than Joe imagined. It's many times larger than a super skyscraper and roughly the same shape, just sideways. Its front half is a massive cargo bay covered in a red-and-white nondescript shell. The rear of the freighter is primarily controlled by four rectangular fusion engines. There are a series of open docks for smaller craft on the sides, with two control towers projecting from the top and bottom amidships. Everything else is black metal, punctuated by flickering yellow lights. Last but not least, the designation "ICF-M42 Trafalgar" is placed clearly and cleanly near the nose of the ship.
"Wow! This is so cool!" Joe couldn't help but be in awe.
“It’s pretty amazing aerospace engineering,” Maggie agrees. "Eight kilometers long, with a mass of 380 million tons and a cargo capacity of 150,000 cubic meters. It is the ninth largest cargo ship in the Empire's space."
"That's a big number."
It was too big a scale for a simple-minded person to even try. He was so excited that he almost forgot he was still in space. He remained in this position until the shuttle began its landing maneuver, causing the camera feed he was watching transfixed to wobble in space. The sudden change of scene made him jump out of his seat with a scream, and he instinctively hugged Maggie's torso. It took him a full five seconds to calm down enough to make out the mound of firm yet tender flesh that one of his arms was pressing against. He suddenly let go of the girl's breast again, this time out of embarrassment.
"Sorry!" I didn't pay attention!"
"I don't mind," she said cheerfully. "You can hold me for as long as you want."
Joe could almost hear a dozen heads turning to stare at him and the girl. Maggie covered her mouth with her hands, realizing too late that she had been too loud and rude. The man buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. There were only three minutes left in the landing procedure, but somehow those three minutes felt longer than the previous ten-hour flight. It wasn't until the couple disembarked and reached their private cabin aboard the Trafalgar that Joe finally calmed down. Still, his ears burned red as he couldn't stop hearing Maggie's offer echoing in the back of his head. He lay on the uncomfortable little bed, burying his face in the pillow and yelling into it like a hormonal teenager trying to deal with the awkward yelling of accidentally bumping into someone he liked. In fact, almost exactly the same. Thankfully the girl had left for a guided tour of Trafalgar so she didn't see this disgraceful display.
In any case, it was late when Joe and Maggie left Butter Pound Four, and the long shuttle trip itself was tiring. Knowing that he was in a completely sealed room, surrounded by millions of tons of armor, calmed his astrophobia to the point of insignificance, causing him to doze off unintentionally. Meanwhile, his girlfriend was stretching the human part of her brain to the limit as she followed the guide, scanning the mountain-sized ship from bow to stern with single-minded focus. She does more than just observe, though. She compared the actual construction of the Trafalgar with the blueprints and schematics she had received from her military contacts in advance. There are thousands of deviations between the two. Most are small, inconsequential changes made during repairs, like a row of rivets that keep being welded together because they keep coming loose. Maggie has a vested interest in this disparity, as one of her obligations to the Third British Empire is to make its starships slightly less destructive of reality.
Unfortunately, due to an unexpected but equally interesting consequence, she was unable to learn anything about the Trafalgar wormhole generator. The device was wrapped in layers and layers of radiation and energy shielding, which also hindered her ability to peer through solid matter. Which is a bit strange considering it's not supposed to hinder psionics. At least not intentionally. However, the wormhole generator harnesses enough energy to create and sustain an artificial black hole while releasing an anti-gravity field to ensure the integrity of the spacecraft. Such a ridiculous output will immediately liquefy any living thing within 100 kilometers without taking too many precautions and countermeasures.
All things considered, it's not that unusual for a shield to block psionic energy, even though it's not explicitly designed to do so. Still, it's possible that this property is related to the device's lasting damage to the fabric of reality. Maggie made a mental note to delve deeper into the shielding in the future. She wanted to do so right away, but she couldn't enter the wormhole generator chamber without violating her obligations to the British government. It's a bit of a shame, but the mystery will have to wait until a later date.
The rest of the tour guide was horribly boring in comparison. ICF-M42T
afalga
It's a so-called construction freighter. It was designed to transport a mountain of metals and minerals to the middle of the galaxy and then convert those raw materials into a space station. Transporting people is just a sideline to it. Therefore, it has a relatively small passenger capacity of only 2,000 people and little in the way of entertainment. In other words, there was almost nothing going on on the ship to pique Maggie's curiosity. She was briefly interested in the swarms of drones and robots that shuttled between the walls and floors, but grew tired of it when she realized they were just doing maintenance.
When the girl finally returns to the cabin and sees Joe napping quietly, she realizes she doesn't have much to do. The fun part of the boat is off limits, she's close to Butte
po
D-4 is too far away to access its online resources. She considered waking her boyfriend, but didn't want to disturb him unless it was an emergency. A strange idea suddenly appeared in her mind. It was unusual for Observer Maras Lake to crave such excitement. The third class people are accustomed to drifting in the void for thousands of years, with nothing to occupy their huge wisdom. Of course, just a few hours of inactivity shouldn't be such a scary prospect.
After a brief moment of introspection, Maggie concluded that the past few months of studying human nature had made her... impatient. Addictive, even. The new knowledge she gains about this reality at a frantic pace is intoxicating. Admittedly, a lot of this information will be considered trivial by others, and for good reason. Watching nearly a thousand hours of soap operas isn't as impressive as learning the science and technology behind wormhole generators. However, Maggie does not discriminate. Knowledge is knowledge regardless of its source, form or content. If she is too picky about which parts of reality she remembers, she will never be omniscient.
Yet here she was, ignoring things she wasn't entirely familiar with simply because they weren't as interesting as the mysterious exorcism barrier. For example, she could easily take a closer look at those maintenance robots. Yes, they were simple, mindless machines, she'd seen them many times. However, she doesn't know everything about them. Their construction was obvious at a glance, but where they were made, who designed them, and what went into their programming were invisible to her. Of course, if she wanted to be more productive with her time, she would jump at the chance to learn these details. Especially since she could plug into their local network and access their electronic brains without alerting anyone or violating her obligations.
So why didn't she do it from the beginning? Did her study of human nature start to affect her on a deeper level? Actually, that's a stupid question. of course. Her research on this issue is in-depth, not just a whim. It would be strange if something didn't change in the third category below. However, while Observer Maraslak welcomed this, it could not allow its inner self to change too much. It is ultimately an entity of order, and one must ensure that it does not stray too far from its essence. Change is good, but in moderation. So, before digitally dissecting the maintenance robot, the Level 3 cosmic entity decided to do some work on itself. Nothing drastic, just compartmentalizing certain thought patterns, clearing out some overly cluttered thoughts, and spiritually transcending the veil of reality to reach out to some peers.
Of course, none of this is obvious to outsiders. If a complete stranger walked into Maggie right now, they wouldn't know that an unfathomable intelligence from another reality was reorganizing its thought processes. All they could see was a pale, raven-haired beauty lingering ominously in the center of the cabin, while a random guy snored quietly in the background. It was a strange, potentially terrifying sight, to be sure, but it gave little indication of what exactly was going on in her head. This took a long time, too, for the girl was still deep in thought, and Joe was awakened by a ship-wide announcement.
"Attention all passengers and staff."
"Huh?! WHA?! The surprised man sat up from his cot.
"I'm Captain Grace," the female voice continued. "We just finished cleaning up Butte
po
The orbital plane of the d galaxy will undergo a wormhole jump after T - 90 seconds. I'm sorry for the short notice, but we're going to move up the schedule a little bit. As usual, the artificial gravity field will be disabled during the skydive, so make sure you're strapped in or holding on to something. "
Joe yelled, blinking as he tried and failed to process the information. He hadn't quite woken up yet, his left arm was on pins and needles and his concentration was almost non-existent because he'd been sleeping oddly. He didn't know what the captain just said, he only knew the last sentence "grab something". "It wasn't a problem because the crib he slept on had these convenient bars for him to grab onto." That's what he did, although he wasn't sure why.
"Mind you, I'm Captain Grace. The jump is due in thirty seconds, so you'd better be ready before we get hit hard when we come out the other side."
Fortunately, the second statement cleared up much of his confusion. This may be Joe's first interstellar journey, but he's seen enough movies to know what happens through a wormhole. That said, he was a little angry that they didn't give him more of a heads up. Well, no big deal. Even if he fell asleep during the broadcast, the worst-case scenario would be that he would float upward when the artificial gravity was turned off, and then fall again when the artificial gravity was turned back on. It will hurt, but probably not enough to cause harm.
Then Joe noticed Maggie. The girl was hovering quietly a few steps away, her eyes closed and her braids swaying wildly. He had no idea what she was doing. However, he had a hunch that now was not the right time to do this. So when the feeling of weightlessness overcame him and the girl began to drift towards the ceiling, he was a little concerned for her safety.
"Maggie!" he shouted to her. "Oi, Maggie! We're going to dance, so—"
He couldn't finish the sentence in time. The ship carried him through the resulting wormhole, making a strange "shhh" sound before everything went black. He couldn't see, hear, or feel anything, not even his own heartbeat or the clothes on his body. Joe finds himself in an unsettling and unfamiliar situation, and his panic attack quickly escalates into a severe panic attack. After a few frantic seconds, he regained consciousness, and just then, his back hit the bed hard. Then there was a heavy, painful thud from the center of the room.
Joe's head snapped toward the source of the sound. Sure enough, when artificial gravity came back into play, Maggie fell hard. Objectively speaking, he really didn't need to worry about her. She is quite durable, practically immortal. However, no man can stay calm when he sees his girl getting hurt. His adrenaline already racing from the emotional rollercoaster, Joe crawled out of bed to see her. He was completely oblivious to his situation, though that was mostly because all he got out of the ordeal was a nasty surprise.
"Maggie! Are you okay?!"
His fears were proven justified when he placed his hands on the prone girl's bare shoulders. He immediately noticed that her skin did not have the usual ambiguous temperature, but felt warm. Not only that, but the swirling light in her eyes was gone, and her hair was completely lifeless. Normally, this would mean she was either temporarily dead or unconscious, but that didn't seem to be the case either way. She breathed smoothly, and her dark irises stared deliberately at Joe's face.
"Maggie? How are you?"
The man waved his hand in front of her and snapped his fingers several times. She didn't say anything, but she did react by tracking the movements. Not with your eyes, but with your whole head. This is more than a little disturbing. Joe didn't know what to do, so he tried to help her stand up. The girl listened to the order and stood up easily, but did not move again. He tried a few more times to get her to answer. Everyone was attracted by his blank, unblinking gaze.
"Ah, bastard," the man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Should have known. You came from another dimension, and of course something changed when you went through a damn wormhole."
"Question: What is the relationship between the upright position of the breast and artificial anomalies in the space-time continuum?"
Well, she's talking. This would have been good news were it not for her flat tone and strange way of speaking. It was obvious something was wrong, but Joe was completely at a loss as he struggled to say or do anything. It's not like she's relapsed or anything. Even Maggie from a few months ago showed more emotion.
"Q: What is the relationship between the upright position -"
"No, okay?!" the man blurted out without thinking. "It's a figure of speech!"
“Question: What part of your statement is rhetorical?”
"That-that part."
"Question: What does titup mean?"
"Uh, it means something went wrong."
"Statement: Acknowledge and take it to heart," the girl declared, then fell silent again.
Joe could do nothing but rub his face in confusion and shout in annoyance. It was the first thing he needed to deal with when he woke up. At least he wasn't panicking anymore, which allowed him to try and figure out what was going on. First of all, this is Maggie, so this could be something both ridiculous and completely logical. Thinking back to before jumping off the building, she seemed really busy that she ignored not one, but two notifications.
The man's media-addled brain came up with a perfectly absurd explanation at an alarming rate. What if Maggie's body was intact, but her brain was lost in transit? Metaphorically, of course. If her head was truly empty, she wouldn't be able to do much, let alone look around and ask questions. But if she died, who took control of her body? Maybe some kind of autopilot? Considering who and what Maggie was, that's almost impossible. Hey, if it's a matter of getting her mind back into her body, Jo knows what to do.
"That's right. Either I succeed, and I'm the best," he muttered, "Or I fail, and that's terrible."
He stepped forward and gently held her head. He pulled the girl into the room and kissed her on the lips. The girl didn't resist at all. Sure enough, he felt a familiar feeling, "something" coming out of his throat and flowing into Maggie's throat. After a few breaths, he pulled away and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the pale girl had returned to her original appearance, including her rotating eyes and twisted hair.
"I'm touched," she smiled sweetly. "You found out faster than I expected."
"Yeah, I'm really good sometimes. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, yes."
"Very good, very good. Hush ..." His tension finally began to disappear. "What happened to you?"
"When we pass through the wormhole, my consciousness was forcibly sprayed out of my spacecraft," she confirmed his theory.
"Will this happen every time we pass through the wormhole?"
"Yes," she nodded. "For this reality, I am a foreigner, so I can easily get rid of it."
"You can't, I don't know, do you tie your brain?"
"I can try to make some appropriate countermeasures. However, considering how easy you bring me back, I think this is a waste of time and energy for me."
"Yeah, okay. Give me it," he proudly claimed. "I want to kiss you how many times you kiss!"
"As you know, the contact process of the mouth pair is not important. The most important factor is the physical distance between the anchor and the ship."
Qiao narrowed his eyes and tried to understand the meaning of outside words.
"So ... kissing is unnecessary, but I am grateful?"
"Yes," the girl said with a smile.
