Departure and Absence (Part 1)

Nolan stood at the city's edge, a cigarette between his fingers, its tip glowing faintly red in the fog like a solitary firefly. He wore an old leather jacket, unshaven, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deep as knife-carved grooves. Before him stretched an abandoned district, broken streetlights tilting, dust filling their glass covers, as fog rose from the ground like a gray-blue river slowly submerging his boots. He exhaled smoke that scattered in the cold air, entangling with the fog like an unravelable knot of thoughts.

The time was 04:07:21, the horizon just showing a hint of cyan light, yet these ruins remained shrouded in darkness. He narrowed his eyes toward the distant low building—Simon's laboratory. Its silhouette blurred in the fog like a forgotten dream. He knew what it held, or rather, he guessed. He had known Simon for fifteen years, from the university mechanics lab to this city's edge; they had soldered circuits together, drunk cheap beer, argued countless times. But their last meeting had been like a dull knife stabbing into his memory.

It was half a year ago, on a particularly foggy night. Simon stood at the laboratory entrance, his blue scarf fluttering wildly in the wind, holding an unlabeled bottle. His eyes carried a strange light, as if burning something. He said: "Nolan, I'm making something that can prove love isn't empty." Nolan laughed then, saying he was drunk, but Simon only shook his head, whispering: "You don't understand—the kitchen is the beginning, and also the end." Then he turned and walked into the fog, the door slamming shut like a heavy period. After that, he never appeared again.

Nolan took another drag, his fingertips flinching slightly from the heat. He tossed the cigarette butt, crushing it with his boot, sparks splashing in the fog like a brief cluster of stars. He pulled a crumpled paper from his jacket pocket, unfolding it with a rustling sound. It was a letter Simon had sent him before disappearing, the paper yellowed, handwriting slanted as if written during intoxication:

"Nolan, if I'm gone, don't tell Lin Se the truth. Let her keep Ceylon. That thing has my shadow; don't let her destroy it. —Simon"

He stared at those lines, a hint of bitterness flashing in his eyes. Simon was always like this, keeping secrets like a child hiding candy. But this time, he had concealed it too deeply, beyond even Nolan's comprehension. He knew Ceylonwas Simon and Lin Se's creation, a robot chef, ostensibly a cooking tool, but filled with Simon's mad ideas. He remembered watching Simon calibrate it, fingers dancing across the keyboard, muttering: "It needs to have feelings, Nolan, otherwise it's just scrap metal." Nolan had dismissed it as nonsense then, but now, he wasn't sure.

At 04:09:03, a gust of wind carried the fog's damp chill into his collar. He coughed once, his throat feeling like it had a stone lodged in it. He looked up at the laboratory, blue light seeping through the door crack, as if breathing. He knew answers lay there, but lacked the courage to enter. After Simon's disappearance, he had visited once, pushed open the door to find shattered glass and a flickering terminal, random code jumping on the screen as if mocking his incompetence. He'd turned and left, feeling like a coward.

He tucked the letter away, pushed it back into his pocket, hands thrust inside his jacket, cursing softly: "Damn you, Simon." He didn't want to deal with this mess, but Lin Se's face hovered in his mind, like an inescapable shadow. She had called yesterday, her voice hoarse as if from crying, asking if he knew about the blue spice. He hadn't told the truth, only said: "I'll check." But he knew the spice was Simon's secret, hidden in some corner of the laboratory, like a bomb with a buried fuse.

At 04:10:47, a bird's cry pierced through the fog from afar, sharp as a needle. He turned to see a night bird flying from the laboratory roof, black feathers flashing briefly in the cyan dawn light. He frowned, sensing the bird as an ill omen. He exhaled, white vapor dispersing from his mouth like a short-lived soul. He knew Lin Se would eventually come here, leaving no clue unexamined. And he needed to do something before she arrived.

Nolan turned away, his boots making dull splashing sounds on the wet ground. He walked toward the city, fog rolling behind him like a vast net, wrapping the laboratory tighter. He didn't look back, but the letter's weight pressed against his chest like a cold stone. He knew Simon's shadow still wandered in these ruins, and both he and Lin Se remained trapped in its darkness.