Old-time musicians

"Oh, okay."

Fan Ning rubbed his forehead with his hands, stood up and looked into the distance.

It was a gloomy afternoon with cool temperatures, thick clouds, wide peripheral vision, and weak rays from the sun.

At the entrance of the dilapidated barracks, the cleared space, iron pots and firewood were set up

The other six team members were busy cooking, studying maps, and repairing vehicles.

The feeling of time is long and broad, with many drowsy experiences crammed into it.

"Click - click - click -"

Fan Ning's leather boots ran over the yellow and brittle branches and leaves on the ground. He walked to the edge of the mountainside and looked at the rolling and colorful mountains, rivers and forests.

In the flowing "soap film" that occupies nearly half of the field of view, the magnificent scenery constantly collapses, melts, solidifies and reorganizes, just like human tissues that are constantly damaged and restored - they can always return to their previous appearance, always immature. , unfamiliar, and with subtle errors.

"It does spread in the eye, just as the zone of aberration itself spreads in the world."

Fan Ning was thinking like this, took out his cell phone that he forgot to turn off, raised his hand to take pictures, and wanted to see what they looked like in the lens.

I was also confused because of the repetitive landscape photos with collapsed colors in the photo album.

Far more than the usual lingering doubts.

"Lavoisier, you can eat now," the team members shouted.

Fan Ning put away the phone without saying a word.

There was a slight crackling sound in the distance, the banyan tree slowly fell, and the crows returned to the sunset.

When we returned to the entrance of the camp, there was a strong fragrance.

"What did you do tonight?" Fan Ning asked.

"Stew," Jacob replied.

The team members chatted for a while about the journey, terrain, and information about the Divine Advent Society. During this period, Fan Ning was checking the few remaining food reserves.

Jacob picked up the army drinking cup, raised his spoon, and began to distribute the stew.

"Wait a minute."

Fan Ning suddenly turned around from the trunk of the car, just like standing on the podium in the past, waving his hands in the air.

The speed and intensity with which he invoked the invisible power was fast and resolute. The wrists of all the team members were violently tugged, and the soup sloshed all over their bodies, burning several people to the point of blowing their breath.

"Is there something wrong with this soup?"

As the vice-captain and the Seeker, Tukweil naturally does not need to rely on additional redundant explanations when understanding the meaning.

"There seems to be something wrong." Jacob frowned and stared at the boiling soup pot, "With this reminder, when I look at the edges of the bubbles in the soup, I always feel that it has a vague green texture? Could it be that this is coming from here? Is there pollution in the deer? Isn’t that what we were hunting and eating the past few days? It’s strange, I was so busy just now, why didn’t I notice it?”

At the end of the sentence, he muttered and raised his voice with a lift.

"Shua!——"

A pot of hot and fragrant broth was poured directly onto a gravel floor, causing a large mist to steam up.

After experiencing such an inexplicable episode, although everyone was hungry, they did not dare to eat randomly for the time being. They sat bored at the door of the barracks, nibbling the few dry food noodles.

Dusk fell suddenly with an uneven amplitude.

After preliminary discussions on how to find the "lighthouse", everyone took a break and took a break. Several abandoned lanterns were lit, and there was no other sound except the buzzing of small groups of flying insects.

Time passes at 21:00, 22:00, and 23:00.

In a quiet environment of relative solitude, Fan Ning had a look of confusion and suspicion on his face. He sat in front of the wooden table for a long time before slowly opening his "Fourth Symphony" score book.

The current composition progress is in the development of the first movement.

But this time, when Fan Ning's eyes scanned his handwriting, all the subsequent developments, turns and summaries unfolded in his mind almost instantly, with an unobstructed degree, just like the arrows cutting through the night sky. Lightning, the shock wave of a violent explosion, or the light that fills a dark room instantly after turning on a light!

He tried writing a few sections further down.

"Bang."

The music book was closed.

"I finally know why the creation progress this time, last time, and last time is getting faster and faster, almost beyond the norm."

"Where is this creation? You are clearly 'copying' something you have already written!"

In the confused realizations again and again, Fan Ning finally realized that something was wrong because of the reminders he left!

"In a sense, I am spinning around in a chaotic and layered time and space, returning to the same starting point many times!?"

"This seems to be different from a 'cycle'. It may be more accurate to regard it as a 'reset'. The series of events that occur each time are not exactly the same, and will be different from each other due to the subtle thoughts of each party. Random perturbations produce different results.”

In fact, if it is under normal external conditions, the many clues of the same collapsed scenery in the mobile phone album, the violin that has been tuned up a whole tone in advance are enough for a spiritually powerful Seeker to react, and another priest We should also have doubts, but after staying in the abnormal zone for a long time, our minds became confused and slow, making it extremely difficult to realize this.

Fortunately, this kind of composition process is completely different from the investigation record in the usual sense. It does not involve language or text, and the carrier cannot be completely regarded as paper. The abnormal zone cannot distort its meaning, nor can it erase the legacy it leaves in spirituality. Unconventional traces.

Fanning finally realized the difference, but he did not feel relieved or relieved at the moment. On the contrary, his expression became more serious.

"Even if the memory of repeated investigations is restored now, it is still very confusing, very chaotic, impossible to sort out, and lacks recognition."

He could not estimate how long the normal time in the outside world had passed.

He could not count how many times he had been "reset".

The details of each experience were different, but the general framework was similar, so that the confusion of identification was like trying to sort all the hair on a horse by color, size, thickness and other factors.

Every time, after being involved in a more distorted secret history mirror, he was lucky enough to "survive" by some means, or temporarily "get rid of" those "worms". But every time, the "soap film" with overflowing colors in his eyes would continue to eat up more of the visual space, and now it has been as much as half.

At present, he can still eliminate interference and focus on music, but Fanning feels that his cognition, thinking and mystical analysis abilities are like a ball of paste and can't function from time to time.

"We must jump out of this trajectory of spinning in place as soon as possible and make the journey substantially move forward. We can't do it again."

There is no need to wait until the color abuse completely occupies the eyes. Perhaps after 60% or 70%, the delicate balance will completely fall to one side, and the self-consciousness will no longer know what it is doing. Or, when a certain action is wrong and interacts directly with a previous "self", there will be more unacceptable consequences such as being copied!

"Although these experiences are chaotic and different, the commonality of the termination stage is still obvious, that is, before and after arriving at the B-105 area." Fanning frowned and looked at the score under the dim light.

At present, he may have entered, or he may not have arrived yet. Since the information is not detailed, he can't judge where the boundary is, and he can't even be sure whether B-105 has a clear boundary.

It is just one of the general names for the previous exploration records given by the Special Patrol Office.

"Crack--"

The sound of leather shoes crushing branches and dead leaves sounded, and several team members hurriedly stepped to Fanning.

"Lavoisier, did you hear someone singing outside?" Jacob asked.

Fanning did not stand up again this time, but lifted his sleeves and glanced at the mechanical watch on his wrist:

"Well, time is almost up."

"Almost up?" Several people imitated his movements in confusion.

Beside the ear, a series of mysterious chords flashing with strong light began to strike repeatedly, and the fragrant prayers of sensory bliss rose again with the strange bass.

In the music of Scriabin's "White Mass", the hour hand once again moved to the last few seconds of 23:59.