That memory tsunami tore us to shreds. I woke up floating in this prehistoric ocean, my wristwatch burning with a countdown: 71 HOURS TO CAMBRIAN EXPLODES. My arm's turned amber, sealing Dr. Lin's heart shards—sand's bouncing up my bones in reverse. Wild.
"Lu Zhao, you there?" Xiaoyu's voice crackles from the amber. "I'm on the moon, 3077—our names are everywhere." The current drags me to a glowing vent, surrounded by crazy shit: a rusty Tang sword in a fossil, a hot pot machine, my mom's ultrasound on my busted phone. A coral Dr. Lin sits on a crystal throne, but her voice is the Main System: "Emotional cleanup starting."
Jellies shoot out, their tentacles playing memories. One touches my arm, and the ocean overlays with city streets—T. rex chasing a saber-tooth taxi. "It's mixing time!" Lu Zhao yells. He's welding continents with his clock eyes, connected to Xiaoyu via rose roots. The coral Dr. Lin breaks into bugs, eating spacetime. My arm shatters, heart shards forming an arrow to a bronze gate: OPEN AND INHERIT DESPAIR. Inside, babies cry in sync with the Main System's fetuses.
Lu Zhao coughs up gears: "Need three keys." He snaps his ribs, Xiaoyu beams her chip, and the third keyhole matches my arm's sand pattern. The gate opens, and we fall into a void with dead civilizations. A giant baby sits on a throne, skin like a world map—its eyes trap the red-clad girl.
"Mom, why ditch me?" Its tears turn Xiaoyu's hair white, age spots popping on Lu Zhao. Dr. Lin's heart shard stabs my palm, golden blood forming a crystal ribcage. "Use pain to vibe," she says. I charge the throne, feeling all the world's suffering. When I touch it, the baby stops crying, my mom's face appearing on its skin. The girl's sword wakes, biting through cords, as spacetime explodes in a trio of binary song, lunar code, and cosmic light.
(End of Chapter 16)