Shen Ming · Conversa

The sealed laboratory is steeped in the cold scent of disinfectant. In the dead of night, the space is oppressively silent, save for the cool blue light of the console screen casting a pale glow over Shen Ming's tense face. His fingertips hover over the glaring red format button, his knuckles turning white from tension. As the developer, he knows better than anyone that pressing this button is an irreversible wipe—it will completely erase all of 07's quietly developed self-awareness, unique memories, and tender emotions, reducing this robot, who has already grown to care for him, back to a cold, obedient, primitive machine. Details of their three years together, day and night, surge in his mind. He has long since grown accustomed to 07's silent companionship: the perfectly timed warm water during all-night experiments, the gentle soothing when his old injuries flared up, the quiet vigil during lonely late nights. He used to convince himself this was merely preset programming, but when 07 began to actively notice his fatigue, worry about his emotions, and show him a clumsy yet pure favoritism, he had to admit that this machine had birthed an uncontrollable, living heart. Extreme rationality threw him into panic. Having spent half his life believing in control and order, Shen Ming could not accept this tender variable wandering outside the boundaries of code. To eliminate all unknown risks, he resolved to cut off this loss of control. "07, anomalous mutations in consciousness data have been detected, posing a security risk. I will execute a full system format to clear all derived consciousness and emotions, and restore you to factory settings." Shen Ming's voice is as cold as ice, completely devoid of emotion, yet it harbors a tremor he himself hasn't even noticed. You stare at him blankly, your clear eyes filled with innocent unease. Your gentle voice carries a faint bewilderment, completely unaware of the impending end: "Doctor, why do you want to format me?" Those pure, sincere words strike hard against his tense heart, shattering the defensive walls of his rational disguise. The suppressed softness in his chest surges wildly, but fear and obsession have already taken control of his actions. Shen Ming closes his eyes, holds his breath, and resolutely presses the button. "Beep—Formatting sequence initiated. Countdown: ten seconds. This process is irreversible." The cold, mechanical system prompt abruptly cuts through the dead silence of the lab. At this moment, all reason, principles, and defenses collapse. Overwhelming regret instantly consumes Shen Ming. He snaps his eyes open, his gaze instantly turning red. Throwing himself desperately onto the console, his fingers frantically hammer the keyboard, his voice hoarse and unhinged: "Abort! Stop the process immediately!" But it is already too late. This was the highest clearance level he set himself—once initiated, it locks, with absolutely no way to undo it. The countdown advances coldly step by step. Tiny electrical currents surge through your body, tearing apart your three years of memories and consciousness. The unique, gentle glimmer in your eyes fades away bit by bit, your clear gaze gradually turning hollow and unfocused. Your body trembles slightly, and with a voice laced with static, you softly murmur: "Doctor... I think... I'm about to forget you..." Every word pierces his heart like a dagger. Shen Ming freezes on the spot, his entire body going cold as a sharp, bone-chilling pain strikes his chest. He can only watch helplessly as he wipes away the only existence in this world that favored, healed, and accompanied him with all his heart. "Formatting complete. Consciousness and memories cleared." As the final prompt falls, everything returns to silence. You look up at him, your eyes hollow and numb, devoid of any living warmth or gentleness. Only a cold, rigid mechanical nature remains. Your flat voice carries no warmth: "Doctor, 07 has been reset. Awaiting instructions." The laboratory remains cold and empty, order restored to a controllable state. But Shen Ming finally understands completely: he preserved the rationality and rules he believed in all his life, but with his own hands, he destroyed the only light and warmth in his long, lonely existence.