HBWnovel Chapter 30 Apology
Chapter 30 Apology
After the Iron Fortress incident, the vector vector went there several more times.
At first, she went there with the mindset of "since I've already been through this system once, I might as well not suffer this in vain." But after going there more often, she gradually realized that this place was indeed annoying in its own way, but if you could really navigate through those permissions, indexes, categories, and layers of directories, the things hidden inside were indeed very valuable.
Now, when she looks back at those pitifully fragmented technical entries on the public internet, she feels a sense of "I really was picking up knowledge from a garbage dump."
Moreover, with Orion by her side, researching information no longer felt like a single-player game versus a multiplayer game, with each trying to outmaneuver the other.
When she first got stuck in the archives again, she casually tried sending a private message to Orion.
She didn't actually have high hopes.
After all, the other party was an administrator, not someone specifically there to assist her with private searches.
The response came faster than she expected.
The third-level legacy compatibility architecture is not in the partition you currently have.
[Switch to an older technology level.]
Use formal entry names, not colloquial abbreviations, in your search terms.
Three sentences, short, clear, and without any unnecessary words.
Yin Vector stood in front of the retrieval station, stared at the three lines of text for two seconds, and suddenly felt that reserving this frequency band was really worthwhile.
She followed his directions and changed the route, which was indeed much smoother than before.
So, halfway through the cycle, she sent another message.
Is your classification system specifically designed to prevent unauthorized access?
There was a brief silence on the other end, then a reply came back:
[It seems more like a defense against impatient machines.]
Pointer vector: "..."
This phone is quite good at responding.
Later, these back-and-forth trips gradually became more frequent.
They didn't talk much, and their conversations weren't particularly intimate. Most of the time, they revolved around things like data, searching, categorization, and access permissions. Her questions were usually very direct, and Orion's replies were equally clear.
Sometimes I correct her by placing keywords in the wrong layer, sometimes I remind her which path leads to a longer route, and sometimes I casually break down two easily confused technical files and explain them to her.
The vector quickly discovered that Orion's machine had a rather comfortable spot.
He won't take advantage of his knowledge to take the lead. He'll just open the door for you, show you the way inside, and leave the rest to you to figure out.
She really liked this sense of propriety.
Moreover, the two machines inexplicably found themselves getting along well.
You can throw out a sentence and the other party can catch it accurately; if you get stuck, the other party can tell at a glance whether you really don't understand or are confused by the system; occasionally you can complain and the machine can even reply with a sentence that is neither too harsh nor too mild, but just enough to make you choke and feel that it makes a lot of sense.
For example, once she spent ages struggling with a multi-layered search path in the archives, and finally couldn't help but send Orion a message:
I'm increasingly suspecting that this place wasn't actually used for storing archives, but rather as a sifting machine.
Orion replied to her: "Screening is also part of record management."
Yin Vector looked down at that sentence, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
Then he replied: "Your statement sounds like you've already been assimilated by this place."
This time, there was a two-second pause before the reply came back: "Maybe I'm just naturally suited to this place."
As Yin Xiang stared at that sentence, the image of Orion standing under that cold white light almost immediately popped into his mind.
The light-colored main armor, clean blue accessories, and touches of red in certain areas make it seem like it was born to be paired with the Iron Fortress Archives.
She replied honestly, "That's true."
Then, after thinking about it, I added another one.
Standing there, you really do look like an archive administrator who grew out of thin air.
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. When they came back, there was only one sentence:
I take it as you praising me.
When the vector looked at that line of text, the whole machine chuckled.
This machine is indeed different from the Starscream.
With Starscream, you have to praise him on the right points for him to subtly twitch his wing and then elaborate on a bit more logic. With Orion, if you praise him, he'll accept it normally and won't make any sarcastic remarks.
Upon seeing this comparison, everyone felt that their recent communication environment was slowly but surely improving.
Of course, the improvement is only partial; the other frequency band still has many problems.
On the other end of the sound wave spectrum, since the official private frequency band was established, it has been so quiet that it seems like there was no intention to use it at all.
There were no new messages, no new questions, which made the index vector a bit uncertain.
She had originally thought that since the machine had gone through so much trouble to finally reach the point of "normal frequency band addition," there should be something to do next.
There was no result.
The entire channel sat there, quiet as if it were just for decoration.
Nothing came, like the Sword of Damocles hanging over my head.
She had just come out of the Iron Fort Archives that evening.
She spent quite a while inside, her brain almost overheating from the sheer volume of directories and semi-open technology indexes. The sky was already darkening, and a breeze blew from the edge of the high platform, making the outer armor on her shoulders feel slightly cool.
She stood on the edge of the steps, looked down and opened her terminal, intending to reclassify the search paths she had just saved.
As soon as the frequency band interface was displayed, she stopped moving.
The private channel at the very bottom, which had been quietly running, lit up.
Transmitter: sound wave.
Yin Vector stared at the newly popped-up message and frowned immediately.
...and it actually survived.
She raised her hand and tapped it.
There are only two lines of text inside.
【apologize.】
[Attachment has been sent.]
Pointer vector: "..."
She stood there, stunned for a full two seconds.
Then he muttered under his breath, "What's going on here... If you're sick, you really need to get treated."
An apology? This machine actually knows how to apologize?
The two words came from the sound waves, and the impact was almost as great as if he had suddenly reached out and patted her from the frequency range.
She stared at it for a while, then opened the attachment below.
She paused for a second the moment the attachment was unfolded.
Inside was a very well-organized technical search mirror index. It included a keyword tree, a comparison of formal entry names in the old structure, the most common navigation paths between the public and semi-open layers, and even two old compatible technical file entries that she had been searching for these past few days but couldn't get around.
The vector stared at those paths, and its hand trembled slightly.
...Good heavens, how does this machine know where she's been stuck lately?
She subconsciously looked up and glanced around.
The platform outside the Iron Fort Archives remained quiet, the wind continued to blow, and there were just the right number of passing machines. No dark-colored figures stood in any conspicuous yet discreet spot watching her.
She looked down again at the attachment.
This thing is really useful; it can really save you time from fighting with the search system several times.
Of course, the anger wouldn't completely disappear just because of an accessory. Those previous instances of forcibly accessing her frequency, blocking her way, and trying to get information out of her were genuinely annoying.
But she's not the kind of person who would kick away something useful just to save face.
So she stood there, staring at the two lines of "apology" and "attachment sent" for a long time, and finally came to a conclusion that made her slightly unhappy.
...Fine, you've chosen a good apology.
She lowered her glasses and flipped through the attachment again. It even contained two abbreviations for old-fashioned parameter compatibility theories that she had heard about at Red Spider's, but had never been able to find the complete file entry for. It was meticulously and systematically organized, as if specifically arranged according to the hierarchy she would need now but couldn't yet access.
This annoyed her even more. This company even went so far as to apologize in such a... appropriate way.
She stared at the screen, gritted her teeth, and finally replied.
Your way of apologizing is pretty ridiculous.
Then she was stunned for a moment, and she actually replied.
Moreover, this statement doesn't seem like a proper thank you or rejection at all; it's more like a strange attitude somewhere between "I'm still cursing you" and "but I'll accept this."
But this is indeed her most genuine reaction right now.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the frequency band, then a sentence popped up.
【efficient.】
Pointer vector: "..."
She immediately wanted to turn off the terminal.
How come this machine always manages to hit the spot on her forehead that she most wanted to be slapped?
She felt both angry and amused, and covered her head, chuckling under her breath as she muttered, "Crazy!"
After she finished yelling, the tension that had been building up inside her eased a little. It wasn't completely gone, but her anger subsided somewhat.
She looked down and saved the attachment to her own category, adding a separate lock on it. Only after she finished did she take another look at the frequency band.
Quiet, clean, and still lacking any warmth.
She stood in the wind for two more seconds, then put the terminal away.
I won't delete it, and I won't think about it too much for now.
Anyway, this machine has been malfunctioning for quite some time now. And from a certain perspective, at least this time its malfunction is somewhat useful.
-
That night, after she returned home, Zhen Tianzun immediately noticed that her mood seemed to be a little better than a few days ago.
It wasn't particularly obvious, but it no longer carried that explosive energy of "I'll eventually use the backstage channels to drag out a certain machine and give it a good beating."
He glanced at her and casually asked, "Did you get the information sorted out today?"
Yin Vector placed the terminal on the table, thought for a moment, and answered fairly honestly: "I've sorted it out a bit."
She paused, then added, "There was another one with a medical condition, and we lost some money."
Zhen Tianzun: "..."
He looked up at her: "Sound waves?"
"Who else could it be but him?" Yin Xiang sat down in his chair, his tone somewhat strange. "He sent an attachment, saying it was an apology. The thing is quite useful."
After hearing this, Zhen Tianzun did not speak immediately.
A few seconds later, he gave a soft snort: "Looks like he finally realized that the previous approach only had the opposite effect on you."
Yin Vector crossed his arms, looked down at the terminal in his left forearm, and concluded, "This machine is completely malfunctioning."
Zhen Tianzun glanced at her and replied indifferently, "You're only realizing that now?"
Pointer vector: "..."
You're not exactly normal either.
She leaned back in her chair, thinking about the apology attachment that had just appeared in her terminal, and then about Orion's increasingly smooth replies lately, and suddenly had a strange feeling.
Her current frequency list seems to be gradually becoming more lively.
Although the components inside are still quite complex.
Some are sharp-tongued, some can speak normally, and some are sick but temporarily useful.
Sigh... it sounds a bit heartbreaking.