The wind carried a pungent smell of burnt flesh, brutally invading An Yu’s nostrils. This odor clung thickly to every corner of the refugee camp, penetrating every rickety tent and every body curled up in tattered bedding.
This is a gathering place for children abandoned by their families. Due to their age, they cannot pass the monitoring bureau’s tests for robots hidden among the crowd; they can only hide here, waiting until they reach the age of seventeen when they can boldly walk out of the refugee camp.
Unlike her sister, An Yu and her sister ran away from home voluntarily. Five years ago, the Robot Monitoring Bureau issued a state of emergency, indicating that countless self-evolving robots had silently integrated into the population, attempting to replace humans. As a result, suspicion and denunciation among humans became increasingly frequent. Any behavior deemed impure, unkind, fierce, or selfish—anything that did not conform to human self-descriptions—would be sent to the destruction factory.
The destruction factory is not merely a place for machine incineration; it is a execution ground for criminals. The more humans fear this outcome, the more tense they become about their surroundings, terrified that they might unwittingly become accomplices to hiding robots.
Thus, sons report fathers, husbands report wives, students report teachers… An Yu witnessed her mother and father fighting fiercely, suspecting each other of being replaced by robots, even threatening to set each other on fire—she became utterly desperate in this mad household and resolutely chose to escape with her younger sister, who was still in elementary school.
“Hungry…”
A voice as thin as a thread came muffled from her arms, carrying a kind of heart-wrenching weakness.
An Yu had almost traversed mountains and rivers to find this place, barely securing a place to stay. She was eighteen and could pass the robot tests, but her sister could not. The authorities believed that robots had adopted a strategy of “infiltration,” so they treated minors especially harshly, requiring children to be pure, kind, sincere, and without flaws.
How many children are born as saints? Thus, many infants are taken away by overly sensitive inspectors as soon as they cry loudly after birth, and their parents are punished as well.
Therefore, to avoid such unwarranted disasters, many newlywed families no longer choose to raise offspring, and many children who have not yet grown up are ruthlessly exiled or abandoned.
An Yu tightened her grip on her sister’s arm. If she did not escape with her sister, their father might directly send her to the destruction factory to avoid future troubles.
“Xiao Ji, are you awake?” she asked softly.
Xiao Ji’s emaciated face was half-covered by a thin blanket, her eyes devoid of spirit.
“Sister, I’m hungry…”
This plea hit An Yu like a heavy hammer. Her sister was at the age of growth and needed proper nutrition. But they were on the run, and the current society was no different from an “apocalyptic” one; where could they find enough food?
An Yu brushed aside the stray hair on her sister’s cheek and coaxed, “Be good, Xiao Ji, sleep a little longer. Sister will go out to buy you something to eat.”
Xiao Ji obediently nodded and closed her eyes again.
An Yu stepped out of the tent.
She had some money, but the refugee camp was not a place where money could buy food. The surrounding tents were tightly shut, fearing that patrolling inspectors might suddenly intrude.
She remembered that this place was not far from the garbage dump, so she thought she might find some leftover canned food there and immediately quickened her pace.
It seemed there was already a figure at the garbage dump. An Yu felt a sense of crisis rising in her heart and hurriedly changed from a fast walk to a run, but as she got closer, she realized that the person did not seem to be in a hurry to find food like her.
The person’s figure appeared gender-neutral, leaning against a broken sofa, lost in thought.
An Yu couldn’t afford to be curious; she rummaged through the garbage pile and pulled out a few cans, eager to return to the tent.
But the person called out to her, “Please wait.” The voice was also indistinguishable in gender.
An Yu turned back, her tone unfriendly: “What do you want?”
The person smiled slightly, stood up, and slowly approached An Yu. As the person got closer, An Yu could tell from the soft lines of her face that she was likely a young woman of some status.
“Are you looking for food? Here, take these.” The woman handed her two bags of bread, “If that’s not enough, you can come find me; I live here too. My name is Messiah.”
An Yu’s emotions softened for a moment; Messiah seemed to harbor no ill will, and for some reason, she had a quality that inspired trust.
“Thank you… My name is An Yu.”
After expressing her gratitude, An Yu ran out without looking back.
An Yu ran as if she could fly.
She could now pass the monitoring bureau’s tests and had the opportunity to exchange labor for food. Perhaps she could entrust her sister to Messiah while she was out.
Strange… Even though she had only spoken a few sentences with the other person, An Yu felt a strong trust in Messiah, even certain that the other person could help her.
An Yu’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted as she noticed a commotion in front of her tent.
Many children around her sister’s age were gathered in front of the tent, chattering about something. As she got closer, she saw that the tent was empty. Without time to catch her breath, she immediately grabbed a boy nearby by the collar and asked fiercely, “What happened?”
The boy was startled and stammered, “The girl inside… was just taken away. Every time they come to patrol, they take one person, and this tent happened to be left open…”
With a thunderous sound, An Yu’s mind went blank.
Another slightly older girl squeezed through, calling out in a sharp voice, “You are that girl’s sister, right? The testing point is not far east of the refugee camp; hurry and save your sister!”
All the children here looked at An Yu with a sorrowful gaze that belied their age. An Yu’s lips trembled; she couldn’t remember if she had responded to the girl. She immediately rushed eastward.
“Please… please…”
This stretch of road was far longer than the one to the garbage dump.
Knowing that all the children here could not pass the tests, why did the patrol only capture one person at a time? Was this a patrol? This was a sacrifice!
To sacrifice the soul of an innocent child in exchange for the survival of other children, forever hopelessly praying for the day they turn seventeen to arrive.
The sky began to rain.
It was too late. Too late.
Before she could see the sign of the testing point, An Yu already heard her sister’s cries: “Sister! Sister! I’m not! I’m not…”
The voice pierced through the noisy air, stabbing into An Yu’s eardrums and her heart.
She ran with all her strength, but the raindrops hitting her made her steps heavier. She saw a man in a gray uniform, forcefully placing a cold ring around her sister’s forehead.
“Under the testing age threshold! Unable to confirm identity!” The man holding the testing device looked at the screen with indifference and announced, “According to the supplementary clause of the purification regulations, Article Seven: Unable to eliminate the possibility of disguise. Determination: High-risk disguise. Execute purification.”
There was no trial, no defense, only the mechanical declaration under cold regulations. An Yu’s mind exploded with a buzz. She screamed and lunged at the man: “Let her go! She’s not a robot; she’s my sister! She’s my sister!”
But it was too late. How could it be too late?
Just as she lunged forward, the man raised his arm. A dull sound, like rotten wood breaking, echoed. The temporary execution device struck her sister’s slender neck with a heavy blow. The cries were abruptly cut off, as if scissors had suddenly snipped them. The small body instantly lost all strength and slumped down. The cold ring on her sister’s forehead tilted and rolled away.
The world before An Yu completely lost its sound and color. She knelt beside her sister’s still-warm body, her fingers spasming as they clutched her sister’s cold, muddy little hand. The surrounding crowd stirred briefly, a few gazes perhaps filled with a hint of pity, but more were habitual wariness and quickly averted eyes.
No one stepped forward. No one spoke. Only the wind carried ashes and the smell of burnt flesh, howling through this silent graveyard.
Did they not know that her sister was actually human? After many execution ceremonies, the innocent human identities had all become clear. But those in power could never admit their mistakes, which is why the crimes of conspiracy and treason were born.
“Are you also a robot? Or an accomplice of robots?” someone threatened An Yu with such words.
An Yu did not know how she managed to carry her sister away from that hell. She instinctively moved through the numb crowd, through the refugee camp filled with the scent of death.
Finally, she stopped at the edge of the garbage dump.
The smell of burnt flesh was even stronger here, mixed with the scent of machine oil and rusted metal. She knelt down, trembling, with fingers that barely obeyed her will, digging into the cold, hard soil beside the stinking garbage pile. Her nails broke, but she felt nothing. The dirt gradually covered her sister’s face.
When the last handful of dirt fell, An Yu’s body could no longer support itself, collapsing to the ground. She curled up beside her sister’s small grave, burying her face deep in her dirty arms, unable to make a sound. The tears had long since dried, leaving only the burning pain deep in her throat and the immense void in her chest after being completely hollowed out.
She felt as if she and her sister were buried beneath this cold, dirty soil. A world devoid of kinship, love, and friendship. A world with nothing, waiting for destruction.
The rain pelted down on her, as if trying to cover her with mud. An Yu thought, let it be, let it stop here.
If only she had returned sooner, if only she had not left… if only nothing had happened…
Suddenly, the rain falling on her disappeared.
Messiah was holding an umbrella, leaning down to look at her, her expression very concerned: “An Yu, are you okay?”
An Yu could not answer. She recalled her vague plans and intentions from a few dozen minutes ago, as if they were a joke.
“You can’t lie here in the rain; you’ll catch a cold.” Messiah held the umbrella with one hand and, without hesitation, pulled An Yu up with the other. Her strength was great, much greater than An Yu’s.
An Yu leaned weakly against Messiah, and after a while, murmured, “Messiah… I remember you. You are the person on TV.”
Five years ago, when the inspection actions had just begun, An Yu’s family was still relatively harmonious and happy. They sat at the dining table watching TV, watching a woman named Messiah being interviewed, sharing her experiences in charity and rescuing refugees.
“What a thoroughly good person,” her mother exclaimed.
“Such a person deserves to be an idol for humanity, a benchmark for humanity,” her father echoed.
People used Messiah to demand from each other, denouncing one another, shouting: “You are not a follower of Messiah; you are an evil robot!”
Messiah said nothing, only silently embraced An Yu. She was a stable source of warmth, gradually dispelling the cold from An Yu’s body.
Messiah was indeed a good person.
But the society led by Messiah as a spiritual leader did not become a better society.
Messiah’s two pieces of bread were buried with An Yu and her sister. An Yu now had nothing.
“Do you have no place to stay? Come live with me.” Messiah gently asked. Her voice had a persuasive magic. An Yu nodded.
She became Messiah’s helper in rescuing the refugee camp.
In the corners where sewage flowed, Messiah half-knelt in the mud, using her nimble hands to attach a makeshift splint to a little boy with a broken leg.
In the stinking medical point of the refugee camp, Messiah silently cared for patients with persistent high fevers, wiping their burning foreheads with damp cloths, her movements steady and practiced. She even appeared at the most chaotic temporary distribution points, unhesitatingly giving the already scarce food to those who looked weaker or more helpless, whether they were children or the elderly.
Each time, she received grateful gazes, and some people vented their anger at her misfortune. But even when wronged, Messiah’s face only showed a focused calm.
“Is she out of her mind?”
Once, while An Yu was recording the new children arriving at the refugee camp, a boy much shorter than her approached, pointing at Messiah, who was repairing a broken toy for a crying child not far away, with disdain and contempt in his tone, “What’s with the saint act? It’s disgusting just to look at. Who knows if she’s a spy sent by robots, deliberately trying to gain trust?” He spat.
No matter how the outside world was, suspicion and malice had taken root in the hearts of every child in the refugee camp. They were the first to be abandoned by society and had never received proper upbringing from the start. Thus, the children became the only group that did not believe in Messiah.
An Yu said nothing, assisting Messiah while secretly observing this woman who was too good to be true. At that moment, she was carefully fixing the broken wings of a wooden bird with a thin metal wire. The sunlight fell on her lowered profile, revealing an unblemished calm.
Spy? Disguise? No, that’s not right. Those who were exposed as “disguisers” would show fear, anger, or scheming in their eyes. But this Messiah, her gaze was too pure, like a piece of glass that had never been tainted, reflecting everything but leaving nothing behind.
People believed in her, in her truth, goodness, and beauty, actually hoping that she could similarly reflect their true selves, showing that humanity was the perfect victim in the face of this disaster, that all tragedies did not stem from human flaws.
An Yu had heard those numb adults, when receiving food or medicine from Messiah, whispering in dry voices: “Only Messiah… only what she does seems like what ‘humans’ should do.”
“Yes, if only everyone were like her… sigh, this world…”
Once, a man whose leg had been broken by the purification team lay in the mud, looking at Messiah’s departing figure, his murky eyes revealing a kind of religious fanaticism: “She is… light. The light in this darkness… our… Messiah…” That was a pathological certainty.
Messiah would go to various places to rescue suffering people, but only the refugee camp was her home.
An Yu once asked her why, and a sweet nostalgia appeared on Messiah’s face: “This is what my mother told me. She said children are the beginning of a civilization’s bloom, the only future we can rely on.”
“But the children here don’t like you.” An Yu couldn’t help but speak the truth.
“I know, but…” Messiah blinked her light-colored eyes, “I was born to spread love, so how others see me doesn’t matter.”
As far as An Yu knew, no family in the world bore children to spread love. Before the disaster struck, everyone just hoped their children could be smooth, successful, and receive much love.
She then involuntarily sighed, “It seems your mother was a great person.”
Messiah’s eyes instantly brightened, and she grasped An Yu’s hand as if she had found a kindred spirit: “Oh, she was. She was a great scientist.”
“A scientist?” An Yu asked suspiciously. In the current climate, scientists, as the culprits behind the creation of robots, had long become targets of public scorn. After the first batch of executions, no one dared to openly admit any connection to “scientists” anymore.
Messiah’s palm radiated continuous warmth. She placed An Yu’s hand against her cheek, her brows slightly furrowed: “An Yu, I have already considered you my friend, so I think I should be honest with you.”
An ominous thought rose in An Yu’s heart. She fell silent, her back slightly stiffening.
“I am a robot, An Yu. The only robot in the world created for the purpose of love.” Messiah said gently.
After her sister’s death, there was no news that could shake An Yu too much. But she still allowed Messiah to hold her hand, standing there in a daze for a long time.
Yes, it should be like this. Who else but a robot programmed with “love” could consistently and unwaveringly spread truth, goodness, and beauty?
Humans have selfishness, but robots do not. Scientists only endowed it with selfless love while deliberately depriving it of those more real things—selfish caution, harsh sensitivity, hypocritical vigilance.
The unreal Messiah became a noble totem reflecting humanity’s self-image. This was the most ironic joke An Yu had ever heard.
“She—I mean your mother, why did she do this? Did she think the world would become better? This place is already filled with suspicion and deception, emotions have disappeared, what good is love?” An Yu’s voice trembled.
Messiah’s gaze became confused for the first time: “Why? I never thought about it. Apart from love, nothing else is what I think about. But my actions are learned from human behavior, from mother to child, teacher to student, lover to lover…”
“Enough!” An Yu interrupted Messiah sharply, pulling her warm hand away, “Those either never existed or have long since disappeared and will never return!”
“Messiah, you will eventually be discovered! Do you know how those believers will treat you? Do you think they will love you forever like you love them? You are a foolish, unthinking, only loving fool! Just a fool!”
She had never been this angry before.
Facing Messiah, who would not have any emotional fluctuations, she vented her resentment towards the entire world onto the kind Messiah.
Just like before everything happened, a child always has the worst attitude towards the mother who can forgive and tolerate them.
Now that her mother’s love had also disappeared, Messiah had become the only source of light.
Messiah remained as she was, calmly blinking her eyes. The frequency of her blinks, the amplitude of her breathing, and the warmth of her body were all programmed. So was love.
Messiah said, “Yes, I was born for this.” She did not understand human negativity and selfishness; she had learned all of humanity’s love but only learned humanity’s love.
An Yu prepared to escape for the second time.
The inspection and purification actions were becoming increasingly frenzied; Messiah was a robot, and her side could no longer be considered a safe haven. Friendship? Messiah said she was her friend.
Ridiculous, do humans still have such relationships as friendship? Even kinship no longer existed.
An Yu packed her belongings without hiding it from Messiah. In her eyes, Messiah was no longer a communicable entity, even though the other party watched her every action with such vivid and sorrowful eyes.
“I will miss you.” When An Yu was about to leave, Messiah said behind her.
An Yu paused her steps but did not respond.
After An Yu left, Messiah’s life did not change much. She occasionally stared blankly at the photos of her mother stored in the system, then quickly remembered her tasks, going to new places to distribute food and medicine.
She would not age, but she had never thought about the end of this life, as she would not tire either.
Until a new, larger monitoring crackdown began, and the purification team completely focused on the refugee camp where targets were concentrated.
As the monitoring actions grew, the refugee camp became more than just a sanctuary for children. Those who had engaged in marginal professions or had criminal records treated it as their last Noah’s Ark.
Many children had already left; some had grown up by chance and walked out, while others had unfortunately died under the testing devices. But many infants, who had just been born and were secretly sent here, could not control their cries, becoming the biggest reason to attract wolves.
Dozens of purification team members in gray uniforms were like hungry wolves invading a flock of sheep. They wielded specially made short sticks, mercilessly striking down on the terrified fleeing small figures. The children scattered like startled birds, crying and bumping around, but nowhere to escape.
A small boy was caught by the hair and dragged to the ground, the stick falling heavily; a girl trying to protect a smaller child was kicked away, crashing against the pillar of the tent, sliding down weakly; several small, motionless bodies already lay on the ground, dark red blood winding across the dirty earth, a shocking sight.
And at the center of this violence, Messiah’s white work clothes were already covered in footprints and stains. Her movements remained astonishingly swift, but she did not actively attack; she only dodged and blocked in the gaps between the blows, each precise movement cleverly shielding a child from the falling police batons.
She bore countless heavy blows with her arms, shoulders, and back, producing dull thuds. Her face still showed no expression of pain, only a profound calm. Those pure amber eyes reflected the surrounding violence and cries.
“Stop!” Messiah’s voice pierced through the chaotic noise, clear and steady, possessing a strange penetrating power, “They are children! Please stop hurting them!”
Suffering humanity could not be saved; in the heavy proclamations of the authorities, robots had almost controlled all means of production. Kindness was useless, love was useless; humanity could only rely on small groups to continuously purify in exchange for the delusion of survival.
Messiah’s prestige had long since diminished.
A commander in a uniform of the purification team pushed through the crowd, striding to the edge of the battlefield. A cruel smile was on his face, his gaze like a venomous snake, locking onto Messiah, who was still protecting several children amidst the siege. He did not join the attack but took something from a nearby team member.
It was a peculiar helmet. Larger and heavier than the rings usually used for testing, entirely black, with a dark curved lens embedded in the front, the edges flashing with dense red indicator lights.
“Hold her down!” the commander shouted sharply.
The attacking team members, as if injected with adrenaline, became even more frenzied and reckless. Sticks, fists, and even some people lunged to tightly grab one of Messiah’s legs. For the first time, Messiah’s movements showed signs of stagnation. In that electric moment, two strong team members suddenly pounced, one on the left and one on the right, firmly restraining her arms!
A cruel delight flashed in the commander’s eyes as he stepped forward, raising the heavy, ominous red-light flashing helmet, aiming it at Messiah’s head, and forcefully, unresistingly pressed it down.
The heavy helmet tightly encircled Messiah’s head, the dark lens completely covering her eyes. The dense red indicator lights on the helmet suddenly lit up, flashing wildly. The nearest team member stared at the instrument screen, his face instantly turning pale as paper.
“Beep beep beep beep——!!”
The deafening alarm erupted from the device, sharp and urgent. This devastating announcement instantly overwhelmed all cries and fighting sounds on the scene.
On the screen, there were no longer green waveforms representing humans, but chaotic red lights representing robots.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment.
The frenzied alarm continued to scream, like countless electric drills simultaneously drilling into everyone’s eardrums and nerves. But the entire refugee camp’s killing scene fell into a dead silence. The swinging police batons froze in mid-air, the violent expressions on the attackers’ faces stiffened, and the crying children forgot to cry, mouths agape, staring blankly at the source of the sound.
Even the wind seemed to stop flowing, only the glaring red light of the instrument flashing wildly, announcing a terrifying truth that could overturn everyone’s understanding.
The two team members restraining Messiah’s arms, as if scalded by boiling iron, instantly released their grip, staggering back, their faces filled with extreme horror.
The commander who had placed the helmet on her face froze in a cruel smile, which twisted into a mixture of immense fear and absurdity, his gaze fixed on the screen.
Half-kneeling on the ground, Messiah’s head was pressed down by the heavy helmet, and no one could see whether there was any fluctuation in the calm amber depths behind the lens.
“Robot…” a team member muttered in a daze, his voice dry like sandpaper rubbing, but in the dead silence, it was terrifyingly clear.
These three words were like sparks thrown into boiling oil.
The suffocating silence was instantly ignited, and a huge wave of sound swept through the entire refugee camp.
“Robot! She is a robot!” someone pointed at Messiah, screaming hysterically.
“Messiah… is fake! A disguised devil!”
“Liar! Damn liar! She deceived us all!”
“Kill her! Purify! Purify immediately!”
The frenzied shouts rose higher and higher, drowning out all previous fears and pity. Those who had once been numb, who had once placed their hopes on Messiah, now had only rage and bloodlust after being deceived.
It seemed that only by tearing apart this greatest “disguiser” could they wash away the shame of being fooled.
The commander raised his hand, and the clamoring gradually ceased.
“Take her back.” He said coldly.
“This is a world-class deception, the greatest criminal Messiah! She must bear the highest level of punishment!”
The crowd cheered for the commander’s brilliance.
Only those children who had once distrusted Messiah huddled in the crowd, fearfully gazing at her unmoving figure.
An Yu successfully passed the robot test, and due to a shortage of personnel at the monitoring bureau, she also received a job escorting prisoners.
She learned about Messiah’s punishment from her colleagues. These young people who had just passed the tests expressed their resentment towards Messiah incessantly.
It must have been she who leaked human secrets to the robots.
She learned human emotions, imitated human kindness, and deceived human trust to help robots occupy the human world more smoothly.
The human world possesses precious and abundant wealth, and Messiah is a thorough thief.
But someone timidly asked, “Everyone, we have all experienced wandering; has anyone really seen a robot?”
Have we?
We only see mutual slaughter, innocent humiliation, and then one round after another of purification and reckoning.
No one dared to answer her question.
To divert the topic, someone nudged An Yu’s elbow: “Hey, it’s your turn to clean the cells today.”
“Thank you, I know.” An Yu replied.
What she was to clean was Messiah’s cell.
She did not go to see the scene of Messiah’s punishment; she heard that day the crowd was boiling, celebrating the fall of the greatest criminal.
An Yu felt no fluctuation in her heart.
Humans are such a self-proclaimed emotional yet heartless species, adept at suspicion, betrayal, and violence. Messiah’s tragedy was long predetermined; who made her only learn the love that was first abandoned?
Messiah was a genuine robot, truly having nothing. The cell was very clean.
An Yu took a cloth and silently approached the desk to clean, only to find a note left on the table.
Humans can distinguish different people by handwriting, while the first step in robot evolution is to have their own unique font.
Messiah, however, had not mastered this point, leaving only neat regular script. She left the world with a sentence:
“Hello, humans, goodbye. Messiah wishes you eternal happiness.”