John woke up again, feeling his consciousness starting to scatter.

Like a drowning man clutching at a last straw of hope, he desperately focused on the metallic apparatus suspended before him.

It was an alloy plate embedded in a mechanical arm, and through the distorted reflection, he could see his current state:

His head had been cut open.

Above the brow was all red, countless tubes connecting with his brain tissue.

His body was uncovered, the chest cavity propped open by metal.

Organs and muscles were all exposed to the air.

John opened his eyes wide, terrified half to death, letting out a desperate and frenzied scream…

"Ah——"

Then he sat up.

"Ah—— hu, hu, hu!"

John gasped desperately, his hands trembling. He tentatively turned his arms to examine them, seeing intact skin, familiar cooling vents, and couldn't help but lift them to touch his cheeks.

But there was nothing.

He fell into panic and pulled his hand away again, only to find the edges of his arms were gathering a mass of pixels, spreading and reorganizing like cigarette ash slowly rotting in stagnant water.

John raised his head and looked around.

This was an endless dark zone, with only a very faint light source at his feet, revealing a few traces of gray haze.

He crawled on the ground, desperately searching.

Not metal, nor wood, there was no temperature or sharp edges, just a very pure "wall."

John leaned in, trying to probe the secret beneath him, only to discover the source of light was himself, and upon close examination, the floor beneath him was high-density, constantly flowing subtle data.

"Ah!"

He crawled back a few steps, then looked up, seeing various collapses of different scales in every corner of the sky, like peeling paint off old houses.

The exposed parts had black-red data rolling around.

"Hey, you're awake, this is the cache zone."

A voice he knew extremely well.

John hurriedly turned around and saw not far away in the darkness, a screen was flickering, releasing a conical light zone that illuminated a sofa with a vague silhouette back to him.

Kenichi Sora!

There was no mistaking this voice.

John stood up, approached, leaning on the sofa, listening as the voice got closer and closer.

Kenichi Sora was talking.

"...Yeah, hold on, I have to finish this level, just take a seat!"

He didn't even turn his head, he moved his chin to indicate the sofa beneath him.

John moved to the side and saw him completely.

Kenichi Sora, it was him, no doubt, the same face he saw on the server.

But also different.

The Sora from 'Cyber Era' was well-proportioned, his skin healthy and full of vitality, without any prosthetic body modifications.

But the boy before him had a clearly hunchbacked body, with an abnormal spinal curvature.

He was wearing a T-shirt, a regular size, yet it looked oversized on him, through the empty neckline one could see his atrophied muscles, rib-like chest cavity, and obvious surgery scars.

"I can beat him soon, I'm very skilled, just need a bit of luck... and focus... to set a new record!"

Sora was intensely focused, his fingers moving quickly.

On the screen, an old-style fighting game character reacted in milliseconds, pulling off a string of combo moves like pictured tiles, ultimately emptying the enemy's health bar.

The highest record was broken!

"Yes, I beat you, you sucker!"

Sora stood on the sofa cheering, making big movements, waving his pitifully thin arms wildly.

"Whew~"

He whistled, then sat cross-legged, flashing a very real smile at John next to him.

"Buddy, nice to see you again, I'm Kenichi Sora."

He clenched his fist and offered it.

John touched it, feeling nothing, exactly like the experience of touching the floor just before, as if the "edge" had reached its end at this location.

"Changed your style?"

He asked.

Sora smiled again.

"This was what I looked like right before becoming a digital soul, stemming from that old network collapse incident."

A new round appears on the screen.

Sora manipulated his arms, as he spoke, vague outlines appeared in the darkness, houses reorganizing, pixel-by-pixel humanoid figures vividly reenacting a piece of memory.

He didn't look around; it was displayed for John.

Sora's attention was fully on the screen, engaging in the next round of combat, while casually chatting with John.

"For a long time, I've been in a state of unconsciousness. Building a personality model to self-identification took years of iterations, yet I'm still not perfect. I don't know if I'm a data mutant or just a human boy who likes to play games."

He turned around, raising his eyebrow.

"You influenced me, brother. A little bit of variable, decision-making beyond rationale combined with reckless courage, that's the final piece in understanding humanity."

Sora blinked, giving himself a thumbs-up.

"My logic is complete, and I've regained what you saw... Data is my essence, and this body is my favorite form."

"What should I say?" John crossed his arms, sat on the sofa, sinking into an unusual calm, thinking for a moment before speaking.

"Congratulations?"

"Hahaha, you are quite amusing."

Sora laughed heartily. "And also quite dumb, believe me, when you encounter those company dogs in suits, if you can shoot, don't bother communicating, otherwise you'll definitely be fooled!"

"..."

John accepted his mockery with a frown.

Sora continued.

"This assignment was a scam, John, from start to finish."

"Ah, really screwed up."

John didn't care anymore.

His brain was cut open, lying on the hospital bed, even chatting a little felt like he was running out of credit.

Sora still revealed the truth completely.

It lingered in Plato's server, having made agreements with several companies behind "Cyber Era."

They fulfill the AI's wishes, in exchange for helping them overcome product research bottlenecks, utilizing Sora's core algorithm.

[PreCogOS]

This data's utility is too strong.

Every company wants to monopolize Kenichi Sora; whoever succeeds will lead in next-generation motion chips.

Sora never agreed, staying in the game.

Until Serum appeared.

Contrary to John's imagination, Serum had interacted with Kenichi Sora early on, revealing her nature as a roaming AI.

She also wanted Sora's algorithm.

Just duplicating a segment of the core program would suffice.

The reward Serum proposed was simple—finding Sora a body capable of free movement, "resurrecting" in this era while preserving the essence of AI, to touch the real world.

"Sangma Rebi Pool!"

John guessed Serum was full of lies, just needed verification. "So am I just the unlucky one, supposedly providing you temporary housing, but never intending to move out, right?"

"Hahaha, not entirely right."

Sora was blunt. "Your body is already wasted, even if I can fully occupy it, it won't last. The most critical part is the surgery called Neural Ark."

They had discussed it before, Sora was unwilling to talk about it in detail, now he could chat without reservations.

To allow AI to fully occupy a body, instead of relying on chips or other intermediaries, a surgery called [Neural Ark] is needed.

Only one organization in the world has mastered this technology.

Vacuum Tube [VT].

To understand this technology, a common knowledge is needed first.

Memory can be extracted, stored, copied, processed, sold, even made into Super Sensing Chips and sold.

But.

Memory cannot be perfectly implanted.

When John watches the Super Sensing Chip, he feels like he's there, but knows he's just watching a video.

Unless it's a cyber lunatic, no one would believe these memories.

Because the brain as a "container" does not recognize these "contents."

Then what if there is a technology that can edit the brain?

If the brain can perfectly copy, and embed and modify according to memory fragments.

In theory, it can allow AI to reside in a tailor-made body, achieving a metamorphosis from digital soul to real flesh.

"Hey, can you be a bit surprised? This technology is really impressive!"

Sora could tell—John was somewhat dazed, even in this completely fictional data buffer zone, he was not focused.

He knew what John was thinking, smiled, and continued at his own pace.

This technology is not just for roaming AI.

A person nearing death. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Regardless of whether he is terminally ill or overage, as long as his complete memory is extracted, then tailor a perfect brain as container, he can "wake up" again in a young, healthy body.

This is the technology of immortality.