"Grey Zone Criticality"
Chapter 01: Critical Oscillation
[Paragraph 1: Annihilation Boundary]
17 seconds before the annihilation engine started, Lin Xuan stared at a set of real-time formulas on the right wall of the observation room.
The photon quantum density slightly increased, the Ω-Lambda value approached the theoretical threshold, and the grey zone interference index jumped from 0.003 to 0.011. Abnormal—but still within the calculated tolerance boundary.
He took a breath, his finger resting on the coupling knob of the control panel. Transparent quartz material was covered with a layer of subtly vibrating nanofluid, like some kind of neural membrane, waiting for the next impact signal.
"Full-frequency resonance module phase adjustment complete."
Su Yumeng's voice came through the intercom, calm and clear, as if every formula had been personally written by her.
Lin Xuan nodded slightly, his ear implant confirming the synchronized command. He held no animosity towards Su Yumeng—just a rationality that somewhat rejected emotional interference. She was the same. They both understood that in an experiment as undefined as the grey zone boundary, any emotional fluctuation not within the numerical scope was an illogical variable.
But today, for the first time, he felt a sense of uncertainty.
The grey zone interference line was rising exponentially, meaning—it was no longer "being monitored," but was "actively responding."
"Annihilation countdown 10 seconds."
On the cold light screen, the countdown entered its final stage. 0.9, 0.8, 0.7...
Lin Xuan pressed his finger down.
The engine started.
At first, it was just a subtle vibration, then the entire laboratory space began to bend slightly—not visual distortion, but space itself being lifted by a corner like a piece of cloth.
Then, everything... stopped.
It wasn't equipment shutdown, nor an operational error.
Instead, time itself was frozen.
Lin Xuan's consciousness was still flowing; he saw Su Yumeng walking from the opposite control panel, but her steps—were infinitely stretched, struggling as if in an extremely low-frame-rate video.
The instrument data lines began to flow backward, light particles were sucked back to their source one by one, like water pouring in reverse, like the universe slowly closing.
This was not the "annihilation state" simulation they had designed. This was the disintegration of reality.
Lin Xuan tried to speak but found he couldn't make a sound. His eardrums did not receive the vibration of air. He began to realize that his thoughts were not operating through the nervous system—but had entered some kind of **"structural space"**.
At this moment, he saw it.
The Gray Domain Threshold
Chapter 01: Critical Oscillation
[Paragraph Two: The Observed]
Lin Xuan's field of vision lost its sense of boundaries, not darkness, not brightness, but—indescribable.
This wasn't some visual failure phenomenon. He clearly knew that he hadn't closed his eyes, nor had he entered a dream state. On the contrary, his consciousness was clearer than ever before, even frighteningly clear.
"Have I... detached from the time flow?"
He posed this question in his mind for the first time—not through the language system, just a self-inquiry of thought. But as soon as this idea emerged, he immediately "heard" a response:
f(x)=n→∞limk=0∑nakϕk(x)
A set of high-dimensional function overlay language, presented simultaneously through pitch, rhythm, and topological transformation.
It wasn't a human language system, nor any existing computer format. It was more like the form of thought itself, a "structural intention" mapped into his brain.
Lin Xuan didn't "understand" its meaning, but he was forced to receive it.
The next second, his consciousness was cast into a gray-white "space"—not physical space, but some kind of superposition perceptual domain, like a shadow cast by the universe on a certain logical dimension.
There was something in that space, it had no shape, no center. Lin Xuan couldn't determine whether it "existed," but he knew it was watching him.
No, to be precise, it was "analyzing" him.
The feeling was as if some higher-order civilization was "refracting" through the gray domain, treating Lin Xuan as an experimental variable for reverse modeling analysis. He wasn't the observer, but—the observed.
"We have not attempted to communicate, only to probe... your structure."
This wasn't language, but a set of supersymmetric matrices resonating conceptually into his consciousness. No grammar needed, no translation required. He "understood" the intention it wanted to express—
They weren't speaking, but transmitting the mathematical understanding process itself.
Lin Xuan tried to break free, realizing that a part of his brain was beginning to heat up. In the distance at the console, he saw Su Yumeng's figure finally regaining motion, but only approaching at 0.5x speed—she also seemed to be trying to synchronize with reality.
And that "existence," seemed to capture Lin Xuan's intense cognitive fluctuations. It began to release a second layer of structural information.
This time, it was another segment of spin function language:
Quantum superposition...? No, not just physical formulas, but a way of describing "existence itself"!
Lin Xuan suddenly understood: this wasn't their "first contact" with humans—rather, from their perspective, "we were the ones making first contact."
He was the first human unit to be fully contacted and information-scanned.
Then, everything disconnected.
Su Yumeng violently pulled Lin Xuan's shoulder, and the flow of reality reconnected. Air rushed into his eardrums, and instrument alarms blared continuously.
"Lin Xuan—your brain waves completely flatlined for 31 seconds!"
Her voice was deafening, her face as pale as paper. Behind the console, multiple instrument screens simultaneously displayed:
[Gray Domain Disturbance Record: Existence Intersection. Civilization Determination Threshold Triggered.]
Lin Xuan slowly looked up.
He didn't answer. He just stared at his palm, where a string of data remained as a neural afterimage in his visual cortex:
3.14159
This was mathematics... but more like a declaration.
He realized that he was no longer the scientist who purely constructed the world with formulas.
And now, the entire world—had been "seen" by them.