Chapter 656 Coincidentally

At night, the elves who had been tossing all day fell asleep one after another, but π was still sitting in front of the computer. . шщш.㈦㈨ⅹS.сом is updated so fast.

There was silence outside, except for the occasional sound of fireworks and firecrackers, which sounded very far away.

π took off his pince-nez, rubbed his bloodshot eyes, felt very sleepy, but couldn't fall asleep. It hasn't had a good rest these days. When it lies down and closes its eyes, the ever-increasing number of collections and words in Word will appear in front of its eyes. It is a spring that is getting tighter and tighter, and I don't know when it will break.

It put an end to the chapter it just finished, moved its fingers a few times, and glanced at the time in the lower right corner of the computer screen-it couldn't remember how many times it was the first time it had read it tonight.

It's almost zero o'clock, and the message from the editor is that it will be charged after zero o'clock. It is like waiting for the judge's sentence, anxiously waiting for that time to come.

In addition to checking the time, one of the most frequent things it does is to refresh the background of the author, and the number of collections is approaching the 50,000 mark. But it doesn't dare to click the mouse too frequently, the crisp sound of rattling may disturb the sleep of other elves.

The paid chapters to be uploaded after midnight are ready. There are five chapters in total. It was rushed out in the past few days. During the day, Zhang Zian checked it several times. It should be fine, but π is still reviewing these five chapters repeatedly. Manuscript, pondering whether the rhetorical method of a certain sentence is used correctly, and whether it can be changed to a more appropriate expression method.

Maybe at this time, we should seize the time to continue writing new chapters, but the closer it gets to zero, the more confused it becomes, and it can't calm down to write.

After reading a certain chapter several times, it feels that there is a sense of separation between a certain paragraph and the next paragraph in the plot, and it is better to add a sentence to make the plot transition more smoothly, so it puts on the pince-nez again and puts its fingers Put it on the keyboard, and lightly typed a line of words. However, there is something in this line that annoys it, the long string of 3.1415926...

Since the last upgrade, it had rarely played this series of numbers, but on this crucial night, this inexplicable series of numbers reappeared like a nightmare.

It moves the cursor to the number, presses the backspace key continuously, deletes the string of numbers, and clicks to save to prevent loss.

Speaking of which, when it first started typing and writing novels in Word, it made the mistake of quitting without saving. The manuscript of several thousand words was wiped out. At that time, it really wanted to stop writing in a fit of anger. After Zhang Zian's repeated persuasion, it endured In a restless mood, I typed a few thousand words again.

In fact, the feeling of retyping a few thousand words is not as bad as imagined, and the time spent is not long, because the most time-consuming thing in writing a novel is thinking about the plot, not typing.

After digital deletion, looking at the clean and tidy document, it 'shows' a smile.

That's fine.

That's right, that's fine.

Zhang Zian doesn't like that string of inexplicable numbers, readers don't like it, and it doesn't like it either, so just let that string of numbers disappear, it has no meaning of existence and shouldn't exist.

After deleting this string of numbers, in this quiet and cold night, its heart suddenly became empty, as if it had lost something very important.

It lowered its head and stared at its palm.

Why?

Why do you involuntarily type out that string of inexplicable numbers? Like a real human being, can't you just hit what you want to hit?

It vaguely remembered that the first time it appeared in this world was in that big house full of books. However, at that time, it was not interested in books, but its eyes were firmly attracted by the computer on the table—to be precise, it was firmly attracted by the computer keyboard.

To what extent is the computer keyboard attractive to it? I can't help but stretch out my hand, press the soft button, and feel the very familiar touch from the fingertips, as if I have done similar actions countless times.

At first there were only one or two people around, sitting in front of the computer, tapping the keyboard quickly with great pleasure.

It tried to wave its hand in front of their eyes, but they didn't respond, they couldn't see it.

So, it stood behind them, watching them how to start the computer, how to enter the chat room, how to 'communicate' with others... Then it found an idle computer in the corner, and did the same.

It learns most things very quickly, but it can't imitate them like them.

Also, the way these humans type is significantly different from it—they mainly press the main keyboard area of ​​the keyboard, while it presses the number area of ​​the keyboard.

Compared with the main keyboard area with 26 English letters and 21 symbol keys, the number area is much simpler, with only 10 number keys and 1 decimal point key.

It vaguely remembered that it seemed to have its own kind, many of its kind, countless of its kind, countless of its kind who liked to press the keyboard, and each of its kind was typing with a keyboard in its arms. But these same kind are like human beings, they like to press the main keyboard area, or press irregularly on the keyboard, instead of pressing the number area like it.

Among its kind, it is undoubtedly an outlier.

Why is it and not those of its kind appearing in this world?

It doesn't know, maybe something went wrong, after all... It looked around, and the vast books were all written in letters or square characters, and none of the books were written in numbers.

Although the same kind are typing randomly, sometimes they can hit some meaningful words by chance, and they are ecstatic about it, as if they have made some great feat.

Regarding this point, it has no right to criticize them, because it is also playing randomly, but it is just playing randomly in the digital area. But numbers are numbers after all, no matter how you type, you can't type any meaningful words, and even typing letters is an unrealistic luxury.

Therefore, they should be more qualified to appear in this world than it is.

If it imitates the same kind, it may happen to type one or two meaningful words someday in the future, it may happen to type one or two meaningful short sentences after thousands of years, and it may happen to type out one or two meaningful sentences after hundreds of millions of years. A meaningful article or two...

In the original space, time seemed to be static, and it and countless others of its kind had an almost infinite lifespan, as if they could keep fighting forever. They don't know when they appeared in that space, and why they appeared, anyway, they have been typing non-stop since they appeared.

But is there any point?

Everything is just a "coincidence", they don't understand what they are playing, and they don't know what they want to play.

What's even more sad is that it has been typing numbers, and even the possibility of "coincidence" is zero.

Why does it appear in this bizarre world instead of countless others of its kind?

It and countless of its kind don't know when they appear in the space, but vaguely know when they can leave—when they can write a meaningful novel.

This is undoubtedly a fantasy. Even if time is used to pile up the pile, the probability of "coincidentally" writing a meaningful novel is approximately zero, and it may not be successful until the end of the universe.

Yet it succeeded, inexplicably, and appeared in this world unprepared.

According to the previous habit, it randomly presses the number area of ​​the computer keyboard a few times to type a long series of numbers. The second digit from the beginning is the decimal point, and the total length of the number is 100 digits. It actually does not know the string it typed. What do the numbers mean.

Obviously, the people in the library didn't know that at the time, they thought it was someone who was playing a prank and deliberately messing with them.

It started off 'quite' joyously, but quickly became restless as it found itself only able to hit 100 digits, and the numbers after that... seemed to be forgotten.

No, when it was in the space, it could obviously be played indefinitely, why did it forget after coming to this world?

It is very confused.

It was anxious and confused, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable and weak. It seems to see countless similar people staring at it with hatred, as if saying: Why you?

Huge resentment, from the collection of countless resentments of the same kind, enveloped it across time and space, and weighed heavily on it.

Just like human beliefs can create elves and kill elves, resentment from countless people of the same kind is like a black hole with strong gravity, which may suck it back to the original space at any time.

Somehow, it seemed to hear someone talking—not from human beings, but some kind of supreme existence.

"Find the book about life, the universe and everything else, or you will return to the original space."——Someone said in the dark, with a voice like a bell in the morning and a drum in the evening, as if it could shake the entire universe.

It doesn't want to go back. Once it goes back, it may be torn to pieces by its kind full of resentment. It later learned a sentence that can explain this mentality-don't worry about scarcity but inequality. Either everyone should be the denominator together, why should you be the numerator?

So it tried to ask the people around it for help, asking them to help it find the book, but they couldn't see it, couldn't hear it, didn't take it seriously, and it couldn't understand the square characters they typed.

Just when it was almost desperate, Zhang Zian appeared.

It will never forget the appearance of Zhang Zian holding up the unnamed book in front of it, no matter what other people think, it thinks that appearance is really handsome.

π looked away from his palm, and landed on the unnamed book next to the laptop.

It stretched out its fingers and gently touched the hard cover of the unnamed book.

On the scarlet cover, except for the surrounding metal edging, there are no words or patterns. It is bare and not very beautiful.

It was the first time that it had a similar idea-it would be great if there were some words or patterns on the cover.

Just then, a hand, a human hand, held down its hand.

It looked up, and at some point Zhang Zian had already stood behind it, looking at it silently.