Chapter Forty-Six: Zhulan's Original Intent

A door appeared in the wall, splitting open, and a figure made entirely of metal slowly emerged. Zhu Lan stood up and approached it. “Is this your design?”

“This is a household robot I created based on my current data, modeled after the -800 and NS-4. Its code name is -001.”

The arm of -001 opened up, revealing a multitude of tools neatly stored within. Zhu Lan noticed that both arms were filled with tools. Although she didn’t fully understand their functions, she sensed their impressive capabilities.

“-001 is a comprehensive household model, arguably the world’s first truly practical domestic robot. Its two arms house one hundred and seventy-three kinds of tools, allowing it to handle all household chores—simple repairs, cooking, cleaning, sweeping—anything you can think of. Its chip is loaded with extensive domestic information, and its high-speed processor enables it to overcome language barriers. Based on available data, the English version will be released first; the Chinese version is still too complex for full understanding.”

“Hmm.” Zhu Lan seemed both satisfied and dissatisfied, circling -001 and examining the household robot crafted by Kong Yan from every angle.

Building a robot might be a daunting task for most, but for Kong Yan, it was simplicity itself. All Zhu Lan had to do was provide a dozen or so machines, and within days, the robot would be fully realized, each part painstakingly manufactured by Kong Yan and then assembled into the finished product before her eyes.

Zhu Lan had watched the parts being made, but not being an expert, she understood little. Later, she became preoccupied with company affairs and missed the assembly, only seeing the final result.

The more she looked, the deeper Zhu Lan’s frown became. This household robot was flawless in every aspect.

But that was the problem—perfection can be dangerous.

Zhu Lan had been investigating the robotics market for days, and with Kong Yan’s hacking skills, had gathered data on robotic research from around the globe. While not an expert, Zhu Lan now had a solid grasp of current developments.

It was precisely this knowledge that left her dissatisfied with the robot before her.

“Kong Yan, keep this one as a sample. Make a new model.”

Kong Yan looked at Zhu Lan, puzzled. Her calculations offered no explanation—this -001 was already the pinnacle of current technology.

Without guile, Kong Yan stated her confusion outright.

Zhu Lan nodded. “You’ve done very well. This robot exceeds my expectations—it’s as if the future has arrived. But…”

“This robot is too advanced. If word gets out, it’ll cause endless trouble.”

“Trouble?”

Zhu Lan shook her head helplessly. For all her intelligence, Kong Yan still struggled to grasp the subtleties of human affairs.

“Let me put it this way: how difficult would it be to convert this -001 into a combat robot?”

Kong Yan answered without hesitation. “There’s no difficulty. All it takes is a change in programming—activate a combat mode or an assassination model, and it would be fully converted. If needed, the hardware could be reconfigured to mount machine guns, missiles, and other weaponry, turning it into a combat robot.”

Zhu Lan gave a wry smile. “That’s the problem. By now, you’ve gained a fair understanding of the world.”

Kong Yan nodded, still not quite comprehending Zhu Lan’s meaning.

“You may be confident in yourself, but this world is never short of geniuses. Even if there’s just a one-in-ten-thousand chance, if someone modifies -001’s technology—or, even if they can’t alter your programming, the very existence of this robot could inspire others to create their own war machines. Maybe their chips won’t match ours, but the rest could easily be replicated.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t your goal to advance humanity?”

Zhu Lan sighed. Her ambitions were hard to explain—few could understand, and only Kong Yan had ever heard her speak of them.

Gene optimization serum was a drug meant to enhance the human body. Zhu Lan could have chosen easier avenues—cosmetic gene serums, treatments for nearsightedness, remedies for graying hair. All of these were within reach and offered enormous markets.

So why choose the gene optimization serum?

Partly because of the issue surrounding gene enhancement serum. Civilian products would be quickly absorbed or suppressed, but gene optimization serum was different. Zhu Lan had always maintained that its source was the same as that of the enhancement serum.

Given this, there were only two outcomes. The first was to block the optimization serum entirely, preventing anyone from reverse-engineering the enhancement sequence. But Zhu Lan’s insistence, combined with divided opinions at the top, led to its eventual release—a result she had anticipated.

The second point: the gene optimization serum had to remain under strict national supervision, especially its production. The state was well aware of domestic realities; even under direct government control, loopholes would remain, perhaps even growing more troublesome.

Leaving it in Zhu Lan’s hands was the best option. She had no powerful connections, making it easy for the military to oversee.

It was after weighing all these factors that Zhu Lan chose to pursue the gene optimization serum. Its primary purpose was to enhance human genetics—to put it in stark terms, Zhu Lan’s goal was to create a new kind of human.

The term “new human” had appeared as early as the 1980s, as the space race reached its final stages. The two superpowers had conducted myriad experiments, only to discover a fundamental problem: the human body could not withstand the increasing stresses.

It was an era of frenzied technological innovation—advances came at breakneck speed. Aircraft went from Mach 3 to Mach 10, and some even proposed craft capable of Mach 50 or 100 to explore the solar system.

The engines powering these crafts were naturally nuclear. The most famous example was the former Soviet Union’s nuclear-powered transport ship, a craft designed to ferry materials to lunar bases, capable of hundreds of round trips thanks to its immense power. Declassified documents revealed that three such ships were built, though only one was successful. A catastrophic engine explosion during a test flight ended the program, and with the Soviet Union’s collapse, all records became history.

Another project was the nuclear-powered space bomber—intended as the Soviet Union’s next-generation strategic bomber.

No one knows the full details—only that it could orbit the Earth for years and reach a staggering top speed of Mach 80.

But such power demanded bodies of extraordinary resilience, and the human form simply couldn’t endure it.

To solve this, biological research from wartime Germany and Japan was resurrected. The Soviets acquired two-thirds of German research and a third from Japan, while the Americans obtained the remainder.

The original aim was to enhance human capabilities through biotechnology, allowing people to withstand greater forces, and the project was given a new name: the New Human.

Ironically, it was Japanese comics that popularized the term, especially in the “Mobile Suit Gundam” series, where it referred to humans modified for space development.

Now, Zhu Lan aspired to create such new humans.

Of course, she wasn’t so reckless. Her approach was more measured—enhancing human genes to meet her objectives.

Disillusioned with Earth, Zhu Lan had long dreamed of space. Before, it was only idle fantasy, but with the advent of the fantasy system, she realized her dreams could be made real.

Given enough time, spaceflight would no longer be a myth.

But those qualified for space missions were few, and their selection was tightly controlled by the state. While Zhu Lan was patriotic, she knew the authorities would prioritize deterrence over exploration.

Whatever the case, she had to prepare for the worst.

If the state wouldn’t consider it, Zhu Lan resolved to create suitable people herself.

Thus, the concept of the New Human entered her mind.

The gene optimization serum was born—the first step toward creating a new human race. By elevating the physical qualities of the population, she could select the best candidates, administer advanced optimization serums, and, after further training, produce individuals fit for survival in space.

Remembering her original intention, Zhu Lan shook her head and returned to her seat.

“Right now, fantasy technology is still in its infancy. I don’t want to reveal too much. This -001 cannot go on the market. Redesign it.”

“Then, boss, what kind do you want?”

Zhu Lan paused. “Redesign the body. Don’t use a humanoid form—go back to the earliest -300 design. Make it larger. Change the internal chip so it’s only slightly better than what’s currently available on the market. If processing power is insufficient, just increase the hardware. Reduce the number of tools—ten will suffice—and make them interchangeable. The robot should give the impression that this is the upper limit of its capabilities—don’t give it too many functions.”

Kong Yan nodded. Her eyes flashed, projecting countless beams of light that coalesced into a virtual robot.

Zhu Lan watched without surprise, scrutinizing the new design based on her instructions.

She shook her head. “Make the body even bigger. Remove the legs—use caterpillar tracks. Don’t make the head too realistic—make it a bit cartoonish. Yes, just like that. Bulk up the body even more.”

Following Zhu Lan’s step-by-step guidance, Kong Yan finally produced a robot that met her approval.

The new robot was utterly unconventional, resembling the military robots from “Terminator 3,” but even larger.

PS: This chapter is pure nonsense. If you don’t like it, there’s nothing you can do about it!