The conservatives and the radicals refused to back down.
Security Advisor B's voice grew louder and louder, and Technical Expert A's voice rose right along with it.
“I will not allow the safety of all humanity to be used as an experiment!”
“The Nightmare Sickness was extremely dangerous too, yet it ended up disappearing on its own. Who's to say this won't turn out the exact same way?”
“Exploring the truth is fine, but not in such an uncontrollable manner.”
“Then what do you suggest is a controllable manner?”
The Section Chief listened to the two sides argue, remaining silent the entire time.
Only when both of their voices began to grow hoarse did he finally raise his hand.
“That's enough.”
The meeting room fell instantly silent.
“We will vote. Raise your hand if you agree to continue observation.”
More than half of the hands in the room went up.
The Section Chief counted once, then counted again, before closing his eyes in defeat.
“The motion passes. We will continue the observation, but they must be monitored at all times. Every single frame of footage and every action must be recorded.”
“Have the psychologist team intervene. They will speak with them today.”
...
The individual interview rooms in the isolation wing were decorated to feel warm and comfortable, filled with a cozy, domestic atmosphere.
Several patients were invited into different interview rooms, each occupied by a psychologist.
The doctors wore gentle smiles and spoke with voices like a warm spring breeze. None of them wore white lab coats, an intentional effort to lower the patients' guard.
Psychologist Li Ming sat on the sofa opposite Zhou Ping. Holding a folder in his hand, he asked softly, “Zhou Ping, how have you been feeling lately?”
Zhou Ping smiled. “Pretty good. Being able to play games makes it less boring.”
Li Ming nodded. “That's good. We're here today mainly to learn about some of your experiences while playing these games. Would you be comfortable chatting about that?”
“Of course. What would you like to talk about?” Zhou Ping spread his hands, his posture relaxed.
Li Ming's tone was warm and non-confrontational. “That 《Super Mario》 game you've been playing lately—what do you think of it?”
Zhou Ping's expression showed absolutely no flaws. “It's great. A timeless classic, perfect for passing the time.”
Li Ming observed Zhou Ping's micro-expressions. Everything fell within the normal range—completely natural, without a single anomaly.
“Have you noticed anything different about this game compared to regular 《Super Mario》?”
Zhou Ping put on a confused expression, his brow furrowing slightly. “It does feel a bit different. Maybe it's a different version? I didn't pay much attention. It's not my computer anyway, and the game came pre-installed. I just play whatever is on there.”
Li Ming didn't dwell on the issue, choosing to approach it from another angle instead. “During your gameplay, have you encountered anything strange?”
Zhou Ping's frown deepened. “No. I've just been playing the game normally.”
“When you chose to play 《Super Mario》, did you pick it out on purpose?” Li Ming asked.
“No, I just chose it at random. After all, there are only a few games on the computer, and 《Super Mario》 is the most fun,” Zhou Ping answered casually.
Li Ming couldn't detect any issues from Zhou Ping's face. He had been a psychologist for over twenty years and had seen countless patients lie. When people lied, there was always a subtle sense of 'forced effort.'
Zhou Ping didn't show any of that forced effort. His entire performance was flawless, completely without defect.
“Zhou Ping, we just want to know what you are truly thinking in your heart,” Li Ming said, lowering his voice.
Zhou Ping looked utterly bewildered. “I'm really not thinking about anything. I'm just playing some 《Super Mario》. Is there really a problem with that?”
The interview lasted for about half an hour. Li Ming asked many detailed questions, but Zhou Ping's answers were absolutely seamless.
After leaving the interview room, Li Ming stood in the corridor for a moment. After a brief hesitation, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to the Section Chief.
“Zhou Ping is lying. However, his disguise is perfect. He knows we are monitoring him, and he knows we discovered the game's mutation, but he has no intention of admitting to anything.”
The Section Chief's reply arrived quickly. “Continue the observation. Do not alert the target.”
...
Half an hour later, the interviews for the several 'patients' concluded one after another. Bearing various expressions, they sat back down in front of their respective computers.
Once everyone was settled, Zhou Ping asked in a casual tone, “What did they ask you guys?”
The others chimed in all at once.
“Asked me why I wanted to play games.”
“Asked if I knew why the games mutated.”
“Tried to nose around to see if I had any strange thoughts.”
“Yeah, it was pretty much the same questions for me.”
“What about you, Little Zhou?” They all turned their heads toward Zhou Ping, waiting for his answer.
Zhou Ping shrugged. “Same questions for me, more or less.”
Having said that, he pressed the computer's power button.
The screen lit up, and he clicked on 《Super Mario》 once again.
The moment the game window popped up, everything appeared perfectly normal.
He controlled Mario to run to the right. After a few steps, he stomped on a Goomba, which exploded into a cloud of red pixelated blood mist.
As the blood mist dispersed, the corners of Zhou Ping's mouth curved up slightly before he quickly suppressed the smile.
The others also opened their respective games. Some continued playing strategy games, while others went back to Minesweeper.
Nobody spoke anymore. The only sounds left in the room were the tapping of keyboards and the clicking of mice.
...
The main lights of the data analysis center were turned off, leaving only the glow of the screens.
Dozens of screens lit up simultaneously, illuminating the room like a giant aquarium.
The footage of Zhou Ping playing Mario was projected onto the central screen. Above the gameplay, his heart rate, respiration rate, and pupil dilation curves were displayed in real-time, while operation logs and system diaries scrolled down the right side.
The analysis team was divided into seven or eight groups, each responsible for a different dimension of data.
The psychological analysts sat in the front row with several screens set up before them—some playing Zhou Ping's gameplay, others showing close-up footage of his face.
They stared intently at Zhou Ping's micro-expressions, replaying every tiny movement multiple times.
Behavioral analysts recorded the changes in his rhythm while controlling Mario, while game experts broke down every single pixel of the game. Screenshots were enlarged to fill entire screens, analyzing those mutated pixel blocks frame by frame.
The occult consultants and folklore experts sat in the corner, purely there to make up the numbers and slack off.
They had even used a supercomputer to simulate the game's running logic. Lines of code scrolled across the screen at a speed far too fast for the naked eye to track.
The simulation was run dozens of times, and the result was the same every single time. The game was just ordinary Mario with no mutations whatsoever. The computer had not made a mistake; it was reality itself that was wrong.
Information grew more abundant, yet conclusions became scarcer.
The analysts proposed dozens of hypotheses, ranging from mass hysteria to a dimensional strike by extraterrestrials, but not a single one could be verified.
Some began to end their analysis reports with the phrase “pending further research.” This phrase had not appeared in the research group for a very long time. It usually meant that they had no idea what to write but had to write something anyway, rendering it pure padding.
Rate on N.U.
