Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 38 Nickname
Perturabo raised his armored hand to cover the imperfect data slate inside the chariot.

On the panel composed of iron and various minerals, the simple to crude form bounced from time to time, and the long paper tapes recording data and instructions ran out from the exit on the side of the machine, and piled up like a mountain on the bottom of the tank. .

He had to clean it up from time to time, and based on the principle that the paper tape and carbon black originated from the vast nature, he threw them back into the embrace of nature through the opening on the side of the chariot, waiting for the additive-free wood pulp to be used again by that kind of Things called microorganisms eat it clean.

Perturabo straightened the crooked iron belt decoration on his head due to machine repairs, opened the roof of the chariot, and let the morning air mixed with dust fly over his cheeks to take away part of his irritability.

The more he studied, the more he understood that there must have been a wider world beyond Olympia, a more distant Utopia.

Locus's collection of books that no one can decipher has made him touch the corner of the long ladder leading to the lofty sky, and endless great ideas are rushing from his brain to his fingertips, eager to verify his countless utopian designs.But, but!

His depression made him unable to resist hitting the top of his machine with both fists, and then he immediately checked the machine for damage.After a few minutes he was sure the machine was unharmed, and it seemed to be working slowly and normally again.

Perturabo rubbed his aching hand, regaining the feeling of fire in his heart, and continued to be depressed that Lokos's basic industry could not keep up with his progress from all angles.Materials, theory, industrial precision, manpower... everything is too missing and too backward.

He couldn't even find a single person with whom he could communicate normally.

He excitedly held the book with others and introduced how to understand the dynamic multi-pooling convolutional neural network model. On the basis of capturing meaningful semantic rules at the word level, he uses the framework to learn sentence-level representation, and uses the dynamic multi-pooling strategy to extract trigger words and Event argument, the opposite will only say "What sentence? What god? You want to ask the god of poetry?"

Oh, except Morse.

Morse would only quip that he didn't really think his theory was perfect; if the guy had just sunbathed and was in high spirits, he could have had a few more in-depth and enlightening conversations.

Perturabo couldn't deny it to himself, that was one of the moments he looked forward to the most.

Another expectation, of course, is when his Creator comes to find him.He must compare Morse with his real Creator. At that time, he can say that Morse's character is really inferior.

A chariot followed him from behind, and the roof of the car gradually opened as well. Callifon stood up from it, waving at him, her long hair hanging behind her back with a hair tie.The black and yellow stripes with someone's strong style on the hairband indicate the identity of the giver of the hairband.

She put her hands around her mouth like amplification props, even though the distance between them was enough for Perturabo to hear her voice clearly.

"Why are you throwing notes out again, Perturabo?" Callifon's voice was full of ridicule. "The wind blew the note into my hand!"

As she spoke, she grabbed a long string of paper tapes from the seat, and made the strings with holes undulate along the airflow.

"You should keep the roof closed!" Perturabo shouted back.

"No, then my driver won't be able to see the clearing road!"

"Is your glass opaque, Kalifeng!"

Kalifeng smiled even wider, and her black hair shone brightly, "The driver said that he couldn't see the surrounding situation through that glass, and he couldn't get used to it."

"Sooner or later I want people to not have to observe the battlefield through the naked eye. That would be stupid!"

"Ah, I'm looking forward to your achievements!"

"Let's sit down and talk!"

Perturaborah went up to the top plate, pulled out the radio receiver cable and plugged it into the interface of his buzzing machine.

After a while, Calliphon's voice rang clearly in Perturabo's ears through the electric wave called "telepathy of the twin gods" by the locals.After she no longer had to shout loudly, her voice softened again, more like a blood relative who was chatting closely.

"This is the first time you have left Lokos since you came here," Callifon said, "even with the intention of war instead of peace."

She paused here, maybe she wanted to ask Perturabo if he was ready, maybe she wanted to ask how far Perturabo would fight this battle before he would stop.

The electric current sent her silence, and the silence often allows the listener to give interpretations according to their inner expectations.

Perturabo leaned back in his chair, nailed the manuscript paper he used for calculations to the wooden board, and at the same time said in a stiff tone: "If I don't bring troops, I won't be able to come back after leaving Locus."

"Yeah..." Callifon sighed, "Actually, this is also the first time I have left Locus."

"Damekes is visiting a neighboring country and you are not allowed to follow him?"

Callifon's laughter set off a small pop in the current. "It's enough to go to Harkon, what should I do? Is it possible to see which prince suits my heart?"

Her laughter melted away in Perturabo's silence, a trace of emptiness floated in the electric current with a roaring heaviness, this emotion opened a breach outside Perturabo's heart, and the bond between the two Side weave extension.

For a moment, Perturabo suddenly questioned why he could still sit so silently and coldly, analyzing this absurd situation rationally.

He then thought about why he was so eager to push everything forward, and whether he was truly changing everything in the vast land of Olympia.

"Okay, Perturabo." Callifon said softly, "You are about to become a real general. And I am a busy quartermaster under the respected general, and I have to arrange all the supplies for him. Logistics, the fodder that feeds the army is being sent out one after another."

"Stop chatting with you, I want to see if your soldiers have had their lunch."

After Kalifeng finished speaking, she was about to cut off the communication. Her hand should have been pressed on the pressed button, and she was about to press it again to make it pop up.

Perturabo called to her: "Wait a minute, Carifon."

"what happened?"

Perturabo looked at the road in front of him through the glass: "What Morse tells me most is to confess."

He didn't know what he was talking about anymore, he just opened his mouth, opened his lips and tongue, let the sentence climb up from his heart, marched out through the open aisle.His calmness was beyond even his own rational expectations.

"So I allow you—I want you to use a shorter syllable for my name."

He heard a surprised inhalation, and the trembling air flow directly pierced the deepest trembling in his heart.

At one point, he even despaired of his reckless expectations, until Callifon's voice sounded again: "Abo (Bo), is this okay?"

"Of course, Carifon." Perturabo blurted out.

From this moment on, he knew that he no longer had to wrestle with his own weaknesses in a never-ending, recurring ordeal.

(End of this chapter)