Yu Zhengze blew a smoke ring. White mist unfurled inside the car, swept toward the back seat by the warm air from the vents.
He lowered the window and flicked his ash. After that single word, "Okay," a brief silence fell between them.
"This technology," his cousin began slowly, his hand, holding the cigarette, resting on the window frame.
"Have you mastered it?"
"I’ve mastered it, and I’ve already tested it." Yu Xian tried to keep his voice steady.
"I can give the police the complete technical principles, audio samples, and test logs, in their entirety."
He paused, then continued,
"But I need four days."
"Why four days?" Yu Zhengze’s smoking paused. He turned his head slightly, studying Yu Xian for a moment.
"There are a few key aspects that I haven’t fully sorted out yet." Yu Xian chose his words carefully.
"I still need a little time to do a final confirmation."
"Four days." His cousin repeated the number as if weighing something.
"Okay."
He said the word again and nodded.
"After four days, submit the materials through an anonymous email. I’ll give you an internal reporting channel that won’t be linked to your personal information."
"Thank you." Yu Xian breathed a sigh of relief. ’After these four days, the lab’s login logs will be automatically overwritten by the system.’
"However, there’s something you need to be mentally prepared for." His cousin’s tone softened. He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly.
"This audio... I’ll find a way to deal with it, but I don’t think handling this will be as easy as you imagine."
"Why?" Yu Xian was taken aback.
"This thing you’re talking about—even if your description is accurate, it hasn’t caused any actual harm yet, right?"
"Right, not yet."
"Then under the current legal framework, it’s unlikely this can be classified directly under the ’criminal’ jurisdiction of the police. With no actual casualties or property damage, and no consummated criminal act, we can’t open a case. This is a new, unknown type of risk."
Yu Xian listened without interrupting.
"What I can do is report the materials up the chain after they’re verified." Yu Zhengze gazed at the endless strands of rain outside the window.
"But as for which department to report it to, or who to report it to... to be honest, I haven’t figured that out yet."
"But someone has to be in charge of this kind of thing, right?" Yu Xian asked with a frown.
"There is, definitely. Generally, it would be handed over to an administrative regulatory body." Yu Zhengze stubbed out his cigarette in the car’s ashtray.
"But this thing you’re describing involves too many areas... From a tech R&D security perspective, it might fall under the Ministry of Science and Technology. From the standpoint of ethical review for medical brain-technology, it might be the jurisdiction of the National Health Commission. If it involves the dissemination of information online, then the Cyberspace Administration would probably have to get involved."
He turned to look at Yu Xian.
"Figuring out who will take the lead requires an assessment. It’ll most likely require organizing an expert review panel."
When Yu Xian heard the two words "expert review," his heart sank. He asked hurriedly,
"Zhengze, how long will that process take?"
"Hard to say." Yu Zhengze’s answer was frank.
"There’s no precedent for this. The system probably doesn’t have a ready-made response mechanism."
"Zhengze, if this thing spreads, it’s a national-level risk. Can’t you guys really make the first move?" Yu Xian’s voice was urgent.
"Do you think the state can just step in and manage everything instantly?" Yu Zhengze frowned.
"Let me tell you, the system can’t react instantly to anything that falls outside of existing experience. Why do we have procedural justice? Because public authority isn’t a toy. Today, I could skip evidence, skip assessments, and skip jurisdiction to investigate this technology just because ’I think it’s dangerous.’ Tomorrow, someone else could use the same reason to investigate ordinary people, companies, or anyone they don’t like."
Yu Xian was silent for two seconds. He knew his cousin was telling the truth. This was the rigorous procedure a modern administrative system had to follow when facing such an unprecedented gray area.
’But this couldn’t wait.’
"Then what do we do during this window of vulnerability?" Yu Xian asked.
Yu Zhengze glanced at him.
"Zhengze, there are only four audio frequencies that can be used to connect," he quickly explained.
"It’s like a radio station with only four channels. You have to occupy those frequency channels immediately to stop anyone from doing harm. Even just occupying them defensively would be better than nothing. At the very least, you can’t leave them empty for people with ulterior motives to get in and wreak havoc."
"Xiaoxian, I understand what you mean." Yu Zhengze’s voice grew softer.
"But with something like this, it’s not that anyone is deliberately shirking responsibility or delaying. It’s that there’s genuinely no precedent, no existing counter-measures. You want me to go to the municipal bureau and say, ’We need to urgently occupy four dream frequencies’? How am I supposed to say that? We don’t have a shred of legal basis, evidence, or jurisdiction. How can the police act immediately?"
Yu Xian pressed his lips together, not refuting him. He understood the limitations and difficulties his cousin’s local department faced.
After a moment of silence, Yu Zhengze reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and suddenly asked,
"This ’occupying the frequencies’ you mentioned, how exactly does that work?"
"The mechanism of the Dream Net is that as long as someone is still inside the dream, malicious external scripts can’t be written into it. So... we need people to stay inside the Dream Net continuously." Yu Xian saw his cousin’s eyebrow twitch, but he could only brace himself and continue.
"Four frequencies, each one needs at least one person online 24/7. With rotating shifts, and accounting for redundancy... we’d need about twenty people."