PFC Chapter 4641 Desperate Escape (3)
Chapter 4641 Desperate Escape (3)
Chapter 4641 A Desperate Escape (Thirteen)
In the once pitch-black cylindrical hall, torches were lit one after another as two figures emerged from the passageway and entered, illuminating the space brightly. However, the intense light was initially disorienting. Eric squinted slightly.
In the very center of the hall stood a peculiar container, a cylindrical jar almost identical in shape to the hall itself, sealed at the top and bottom with metal, and surrounded by a wire mesh in the middle. The jar didn't contain liquid, but rather a mechanism that, from a distance, resembled a balance scale.
Eric stepped forward first. He saw that the cylindrical jar had a square wooden opening facing the passage. The opening wasn't large, just big enough for a person to put their arm in. And on the wooden board below the opening, there was a hand drawn on it.
A tube runs from this opening to the top of a balance scale inside the jar. To the right of the scale is a large metal basin. The basin is opaque, so its contents are not visible. However, at this moment, the right side of the scale is slightly depressed, while the left side is tilted up a little.
There are also some mechanisms on the upper left side of the balance scale, but they are blocked by a metal barrier, so it's impossible to tell what they do. It seems that the higher the left side is tilted, the more effectively the mechanisms function.
Charles stood in front of the jar and looked inside. There was a pale pink liquid at the bottom of the jar, most of which had drained away through the drainpipe, leaving only some residue in the grooves at the bottom. It was clearly useless waste liquid.
“Blood,” Charles said, taking a step back. “It’s diluted blood.”
He looked up at the pipe. There were some water stains on the inside of the pipe, the color was very faint, but it was still possible to tell that the liquid transported in this pipe was blood.
Eric immediately realized what was happening. He looked down and groped beneath the square opening. There was a drawer there, easily visible in the bright light. He opened it; inside were two disposable needles.
“We need to draw blood,” Eric said calmly. He reached into the square opening again and pulled out a tube that fit perfectly with a disposable needle. It was clearly for drawing blood.
"The question is how much to draw," Charles frowned. "We can't possibly use both of our blood to tip the scales, can we?"
“This machine has been used.” Eric reached out to touch the metal casing. Charles quickly pulled him away. “The reason this thing is made of metal is probably to prevent damage from violent impacts when it’s powered on.”
Eric withdrew his hand. He also noticed the pale pink liquid remaining at the bottom of the jar, which was likely left after the blood-drawing tube had been rinsed with water.
The fact that the right side of the scale has sank somewhat suggests that someone has likely already bled a considerable amount. But who could it be? How much have they given, and how much will ultimately be needed?
Charles began to think. "We can't be the fastest unless we don't get a single Batman. But I don't think that's possible. We entered the instance late at night, which is peak time for Batman queuing, so we should be able to get one."
"Whether it's Batman teaming up, Batman teaming up with Superman, or teaming up with other members of the Justice League, as long as Batman is involved, he will definitely be faster than us, and may even be the first."
“Those guys are all crazy, they’ll definitely be scrambling to donate blood. Batman will take a lot, and if Superman were here, it would probably be even more.” Charles looked up at the basin of blood. “This might only contain the blood of two or three people, and there might only be two groups ahead of us.”
“I think you’re being too optimistic,” Eric said. “If you might get Batman, you might get the Joker. Do you think those supervillains will donate blood?”
"But this mechanism didn't appear out of thin air. Blood donation has a purpose, most likely helping you pass the level. They also know that without donating blood, the game might fail. Even if it's just to pass the game, they'll still make some sacrifice, right?"
“Furthermore,” Charles paused before continuing, “I think our solution to the puzzle is sound. We’ve used all the available tools and haven’t gotten stuck. We’re not the best, but we’re certainly among the top. Don’t underestimate yourselves.”
“We only provided two needles, and both are disposable, meaning each person can only prick once,” Eric said, looking down at the needle in his hand. “I prefer that one person draw a small amount first to test the balance and see how each hundred milliliters of blood affects the scale. Then the other person can draw as much blood as possible without harming their health.”
Charles ignored his comment and began his analysis on his own. "This is a game theory puzzle. The first layer of the game involves the different players. Since we don't know who they are, we also don't know their willingness to donate blood."
"However, what we don't know is the upper limit, that is, how many people are willing to provide more blood at the cost of their health. But we can ensure the lower limit, because once they join the game, they will definitely want to win, and they probably won't provide no blood at all."
"The problem is that we don't know how much health this puzzle requires, and no group of players knows either. If each group only needs to provide the minimum amount of health to pass the level, then the puzzle is meaningless and doesn't fit the ruthless style of the previous level designers."
"Therefore, I believe that having the minimum amount of health is absolutely not enough to pass the level; someone must give you more. In fact, judging from the style of previous level designs, giving everyone more is still not enough. It is very likely that someone must suffer a health loss, that is, at least to the point of excessive blood loss, in order to activate the mechanism."
"The key to this game is that we need to determine the order in which we arrive, and based on that order, decide how much health we should give. The order is extremely important."
"Without a doubt, based on the design of the previous levels, those who can get here faster must be stronger than us in terms of intelligence and self-sacrifice. They have enough strategic thinking to reach the same conclusion as me, and they are not stingy in giving more blood."
"Based on my guess, there are two groups ahead of us, and they must have given us too much. The question is whether we need to give more, and whether the groups behind us need to give more, to ensure that when the last group arrives here, it won't be a dead end."
"No matter what the reason is for the later groups arriving so slowly, the slower they arrive, the worse their abilities and condition are likely to be. Then they will contribute less. We must leave them enough room to grow, otherwise by the time it comes to the last or second-to-last group, it may become a task that they could not complete even if they were drained of all their energy."
"Although we don't know what this mechanism is for yet, given the cunning of the level designer, if we fail to complete it, we could all die a terrible death."
"According to this reasoning, those who arrive first should receive more blood. But the problem is whether everyone can think of this and is willing to give so much."
“Why not?” Eric asked. “According to you, everyone wants to win.”
“Didn’t you just say you didn’t want to?” Charles asked. “Don’t you want to win?”
Eric frowned and said, "I didn't mean no. I said the two of us could..."
“No,” Charles interrupted him, “when I say ‘give more,’ I don’t mean without harming their health, but rather that someone is very likely to lose too much blood. I’ve already said that the people behind us are no longer able to give that much. They’re not in good condition and may not have the health to draw upon. If they lose too much blood then, it could kill them.”
“We can’t assume that everyone at the back of the line is kind. Like you said, what if there’s a clown who’s not willing to pay the price of his life and losing his game to make way for the people in front of him? Then everyone would die together. So it can only be that the healthy people at the front sacrifice their health to make room for them.”
Charles continued, "This is a very classic moral game. You need to gamble on how many good people and how many bad people are among those before and after, and try your best to turn the bad people into good people. And the way to do that is to sacrifice yourself for their sake."
"To reiterate, if a supervillain were to arrive after us and he saw that this was an impossible mission, he probably wouldn't shed a drop of blood. Because he's not the kind of person who would sacrifice himself for others; at worst, we'd all die together."
"However, if when he arrives he finds that although some blood will indeed be lost, there is still hope of completing the mission and achieving victory, then even for selfish reasons, he will be willing to sacrifice himself. This is what I mean by 'turning bad people into good people'."
Eric frowned deeply. "So, it's those of us who go first who bear the moral cost, while those who come after us can simply act selfishly."
"I can only say that this is the ideal situation, and we must find a way to create an ideal situation. I have a feeling that if this doesn't work, we may learn a very painful lesson."
Charles sighed and said, "Now there's only one problem left, which is determining our position. The higher we are in the queue, the more people are likely to be behind us, and the greater the probability of a supervillain emerging. If we don't give them any hope, it will be troublesome if they just leave."
“According to you, we might not even be in the third group, but the second group.” Eric looked up at the scales and said, “The people ahead of us will also deduce what you’re deducing. And to prevent the people behind them from leaving, they might donate as much blood as they can, perhaps even to the point of both of them losing too much blood. The blood in the scales now might come from the same group of people.”
Charles looked over as well. He frowned slightly. Although he couldn't see exactly how much blood was in the basin, the scales had already sunk considerably. If it came from two people, those two must have lost a lot of blood.
But if they really are in the second group, that's definitely bad news. Because according to the game theory we've discussed, the earlier groups all have to make sacrifices, but the later groups arrive, the fewer sacrifices they have to make. If they're in third place, maybe only one person will suffer too much damage; but if they're in second, neither of them can escape.
While there's no definitive answer as to its exact ranking, it's better to err on the side of caution and prepare for the worst.
Before Eric could say anything, Charles walked up to him. His deep blue eyes were even clearer in the firelight. He put his hand on Eric's shoulder and looked at him, saying, "You know what? Every time you talk about your past, those days in concentration camps, being hunted, struggling all over the world, or the skills you inadvertently revealed that you learned in suffering, it makes me hate that I didn't meet you sooner."
“…You can’t save me. The times can’t be changed, Charles.” Eric tilted his head back slightly, as if to avoid those eyes. “You can’t do it.”
“This is not salvation. If I had been able to empathize with you and experience the same suffering earlier, perhaps I would have understood you sooner.”
“That’s completely unnecessary, Charles.”
"Really? I thought that if we had stood together sooner, the tragedy that led to my paralysis wouldn't have happened. So you never felt guilty about it?"
Eric clenched his fist tightly. Charles said, "Believe it or not, the part of me who blames myself in this tragedy has always been me. I shouldn't have just tried to understand you by reading your mind; I should have put myself in your shoes, understood your suffering, and stood with you."
“Why can’t we bleed together?” Charles glanced at the mechanism beside him, then turned back to Eric. “Answer me, Eric. What reason do you have to disagree?”
Eric couldn't answer; he was simply stunned, stunned by Charles's blue eyes and his words. All of this reminded him of why he had ever built that helmet in the first place. Because apart from this forceful physical barrier, he had no way to refuse Charles. He always found a way to persuade him. Just like now.
He genuinely regretted not wearing a helmet when he came in.