From American Internet Celebrity to God Among Men

166: Chapter 166 The Silent Tyranny and the Pulse Beneath the IceAs the transport plane lowered its altitude over Greenland, Alex Su looked through the narrow porthole and saw a world composed purely of white and blue. The boundless ice sheet stretched to the horizon, and massive ice tongues reached into the deep blue sea like frozen rivers. A primordial, awe-inspiring silence permeated the space between heaven and earth.

The plane landed on a temporary runway compacted from ice and snow. The cold wind immediately scraped across his face like a physical blade; even wearing top-tier cold-weather gear, that penetrating chill still caused an instant jolt of alertness. Alex followed two taciturn reception personnel—who called themselves ”guides,” with lean builds and eyes as sharp as eagles—onto a tracked all-terrain vehicle.

The interior of the vehicle was cramped but warm, the engine growling as it began to head deep into the ice sheet. Besides the driver and the two guides, there were two others on board: a middle-aged researcher wearing thick glasses, bundled up tightly, and clutching a silver instrument case (an assistant to the Spirit of the Wasteland?), and a tall man with a steady aura responsible for the entire team’s safety, codenamed Captain Ice Ridge.

There were no unnecessary pleasantries. Captain Ice Ridge succinctly introduced the basic plan for the next three days, safety regulations, and emergency signals. The route was pre-planned, with the goal of reaching a coordinate point about one hundred and twenty kilometers deep into the ice sheet, which had been preliminarily identified as an area where ”abnormal signals” were relatively active. Every hour of the entire journey was strictly scheduled.

Alex listened silently while maintaining Energy Perception at a minimum state of alert. He could ”feel” the vast and cold natural energy field outside the vehicle—heavy, sluggish, yet containing a force capable of total destruction. Inside the vehicle, the energy fields of the members had their own characteristics: Captain Ice Ridge’s field was stable and restrained, with the sharp edges of iron-blooded discipline; the researcher’s field was somewhat tense and focused, centered around the instrument in his arms; the two guides’ fields were more closely integrated with the environment, as if they were extensions of the ice plains.

After driving for several hours, the convoy stopped for its first rest and on-site equipment check. Alex stepped out of the cabin, his feet sinking into knee-deep soft powder snow. The sound of the wind was the only constant noise here, sometimes a low howl, sometimes piercing, but within Energy Perception, the wind was broken down into countless flowing energy streams with the texture of fine ice crystal friction. The absolute low temperature made the active energy molecules in the air inert; the whole world seemed to be in a state of ”semi-dormancy” in an energy sense, except for... beneath his feet.

When he extended his perception downward, attempting to penetrate the thick layers of ice and snow, an extremely faint, slow, but definitely present sense of ”pulsation” vaguely reached him. It wasn’t a heartbeat, but more like some massive mass slowly deforming under its own gravity, the deep-level pressure release generated by glacial movement, or... something else. It was too deep and blurred to distinguish more details.

”How are you adapting?” Captain Ice Ridge walked over to him and handed him a thermos containing a piping hot, high-calorie drink.

”It’s more... empty than during training.” Alex took it and took a sip; the heat went straight to his stomach, dispelling some of the chill. ”The feeling underfoot is very special.”

Captain Ice Ridge glanced at him, an imperceptible trace of scrutiny flashing in his eyes: ”The ice sheet is alive, moving dozens of meters every year. What you’re feeling might be ice quakes or pressure releases. Here, don’t ignore any ’feeling,’ but don’t over-interpret either. Staying calm and objective is the first rule of survival.”

Alex nodded, understanding this was the voice of experience.

They continued forward after the rest. The sky gradually darkened; the polar twilight was long and magnificent, staining the entire ice plain with shades of pink-purple and golden-red, beautiful to the point of being illusory. The convoy set up the first camp under a leeward ice cliff. The tents were specially made, with good insulation and wind resistance. Dinner was heated ready-to-eat meals, nutritionally sufficient but hardly delicious.

After nightfall, the temperature plummeted. The sound of the wind became the eternal background noise outside the tent. According to the plan, Alex and the researcher (whom he addressed as ”Doctor”) began the first on-site sound monitoring. They moved a distance away from the camp and set up the professional recording equipment they had brought on a relatively open patch of ice, including that specially modified Nagra reel-to-reel machine.

The Doctor operated the instruments, collecting background environmental noise. Alex put on monitoring headphones while focusing Energy Perception on the direction the equipment was pointed and the ice layer beneath his feet.

For the first half hour, there was only the sound of the wind, the faint electronic noise of the equipment itself, and the occasional ”creak” from the ice layer, sounding like the friction of a giant’s bones. But at a certain moment, when the Doctor adjusted to a specific low-frequency reception range, Alex’s headphones and Energy Perception simultaneously captured a hint of something unusual.

It was an extremely low hum, almost below the threshold of hearing, lasting for about ten seconds before disappearing. It wasn’t the wind, nor did it seem like ice movement. In Energy Perception, it was more like an extremely subtle ”ripple” that briefly distorted the surrounding cold energy field, coming from deep below, and the direction seemed to be roughly toward their target coordinates.

The Doctor had clearly monitored it too; he quickly recorded the data and adjusted parameters, trying to capture it again, but that signal never reappeared.

”Atypical low-frequency pulse, duration 14.7 seconds, decay pattern does not match known models of ice quakes or geological activity,” the Doctor murmured under his breath, his voice suppressed with excitement. ”The signal-to-noise ratio is very low, but it definitely exists. We need to get closer to the target area for long-term continuous monitoring.”

Alex didn’t say much, but silently noted the unique texture of that ”ripple” in his perception—a cold disturbance with a certain strange ”orderliness.” This had a distant similarity to the tape signals he had encountered before or the samples provided by the Spirit of the Wasteland, but it was more ”primal” and ”raw.”

Back in the tent, Alex sent a scheduled safety signal (a short code representing ”all normal, proceeding as planned”) to Los Angeles via a secure satellite data link. He also received a similarly encrypted short greeting from Taylor Swift: ”It’s raining in Los Angeles, missing the sunny days. Everything is well. Waiting for you.”

The simple words brought a bit of warmth to the cold night on the ice plain. He closed his eyes and reviewed the day’s experiences in his sleeping bag. The tyranny and beauty of the ice plain, the mysterious pulse beneath his feet, that fleeting abnormal signal... all of it made him certain that this trip was by no means in vain. Risks certainly existed, but the flame of exploration burned even brighter in his chest.

Meanwhile, in distant Los Angeles.

Preparations for the premiere of city of instantaneity entered the final sprint. Taylor Swift attended the last important publicity meeting on behalf of Alex Su, and her steady, appropriate performance won high praise from the production side. After the meeting, she drove back to her home in Malibu alone.

The house was very quiet; without the presence of the other person, it felt somewhat empty. She walked to Alex’s workspace, her gaze inadvertently sweeping over the hidden spot where he kept that special magnetic tape. After a moment of hesitation, she didn’t touch it, but only lightly brushed over the smooth surface of that vintage Nagra recorder.

”Come back safely,” she whispered to the silent air. ”And then, tell me what exactly is beneath the ice plain.”

She turned on the computer and began to process several follow-up cooperation proposals for the ”Monthly Echo Star” sent by the Echo Vision platform that required her review. Turning her longing into the drive for work was her way of maintaining calm at this moment.

Outside the window, the night rain in Los Angeles pattered softly, while far away on the ice plain of Greenland, Alex Su gradually fell asleep amidst the regular whispers of the ice layer and the howling wind. His Energy Perception remained at a minimum state of alertness even in sleep, like a faint, inextinguishable lamp on the ice plain.