Reality Programming Association

Chapter 59: Chapter 24: The Survivor Who Escaped the Dream

He’d had his suspicions before. Every device has a unique MAC address, and TDI could use it to learn information about the corresponding device.

But how could TDI possibly track the specific information and status of every device on Earth?

’Could TDI even know the specs of the generic phone he bought from a small workshop in Huaqiang North?’

’Although he didn’t understand the specific mechanics of MAC addresses, he figured the information they contained shouldn’t be enough to create such a binding effect.’

’Doxxing someone by collecting data through the browser also seemed unrealistic. Modern phones require permission to collect information.’

’And that browser page, aside from having him fill in the MAC address, didn’t ask for permission to collect any other information.’

’Besides, the TDI project organizers couldn’t possibly know if the device he bound was brand new, so they had no way to doxx and attack the test subjects.’

He’d have to ask Wen Xiao if he had any ideas about this.

Question 4: Since it’s just an audio file, how is its distribution prevented? If it can be shared, what’s the point of the invitation code?

’TDI went to the trouble of creating such a complex activation code system. It couldn’t be as simple as letting users share the audio file for common use.’

’But how did they do it? And what were the edge cases?’

He could think of several special scenarios off the top of his head, which of course intersected and correlated with his previous questions:

According to the agreement, the audio can only be played on the bound device. So, what if he just let someone else listen to it directly from his phone? Would it have an effect?

Is the one-time login key only one-time for him, or one-time for everyone?

If two people listen to the same audio file at the same time, will it affect both of them, or only one?

Yu Xian put down his pen, completely baffled.

There were too many questions, and he had no leads for most of them. He needed to find someone with the relevant technical skills and knowledge to solve them.

But no matter what, there was one crucial bottom line—

He couldn’t let anyone else try it.

Absolutely not.

He remembered that white, nihilistic space, that despair, that horrifying experience of being alienated and turned into a machine.

Although the seller had said, ”It’s not painful if you forget,” Yu Xian couldn’t accept that logic.

’Even if the memory was erased, the soul that suffered in that five-hundred-million-year hell had truly existed.’

’I can’t drag my friends into this abyss, this hell, and use them as guinea pigs for an experiment.’

’Who knew if this kind of brutal machine learning would cause irreversible neurological damage to the human brain? Or if it would leave behind any side effects?’

By the time he finished organizing all this, it was nearly 9:00 PM.

The torrential rain washed over everything, and a great wind howled as it swept through the city.

’At this hour, his friends were probably all holed up in their dorm rooms, watching the storm outside, wrapped in their blankets and playing on their phones.’

He picked up his phone and first sent a message to ”Uncertainty Robot” Wen Xiao.

”I think I might have found the reason for the suicide victims’ hypersomnia. I have some questions for you.”

After sending it, he switched out of the chat and found Yang Yiyi’s conversation window.

Yang Yiyi’s nickname was ”Yang Liu Yiyi.” Yu Xian’s contact name for her was ”Senior,” because he didn’t seem to have any other female upperclassmen.

”Senior, sorry to bother you so late. I’d like to ask you a rather technical question. If a person’s MCH neurons are normal, is it possible for them to wake up without having forgotten any information from their dream? In neuroscience, are there any possible explanations for that?”

Sent.

Putting down his phone, Yu Xian let out a long sigh, leaned back on the sofa, and closed his eyes.

But he didn’t dare to sleep.

He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, he would once again return to that white room and see that crimson countdown: ”Remaining uses: 9999.”

’But it also felt a bit strange. For some unknown reason, he was a survivor who had actually escaped from TDI’s dream with his memories intact.’

’And within the TDI project’s perfect, closed loop, he was the fish that had slipped through the net... a traitor.’