The Missing Password
When Lao Li woke up, the world had changed. He lay in a sterile white hospital bed, his mind a blank slate, like a desert swept by the wind. The doctors said he had suffered sudden amnesia, the cause unknown. The only thing proving his identity was an old smart wristband on his wrist, displaying the name "Li Wei."
"Li Wei, programmer." This was the only information he could piece together from the blurry fragments of his memory. He didn't know what kind of code he had written, why he was lying here, or even why he was called Li Wei.
There was also a strange program on the wristband, an icon of a lock with the words "Abyss Key" below it. He tried to click it, but the screen prompted him to enter a password. He tried many things - his birthday, wedding anniversary, even every combination of numbers he could think of, but all failed. This password was like a cold chain, tightly locking away his past.
After being discharged from the hospital, Li Wei felt like he was in a strange future. Self-driving cars were everywhere, AI assistants were ubiquitous, and everyone wore lightweight VR glasses. He tried to fit in, but he was out of place. He was like a ghost from the past, wandering in this tech-obsessed world.
He started going to the library frequently, looking up books about programming. He hoped to find a clue from the familiar symbols and awaken his dormant memories. By chance, he saw an introduction to "consciousness uploading" in a popular science magazine. A technology that could store human consciousness digitally, achieving "immortality." A terrible idea emerged: could he have been involved in this project? Could his amnesia be caused by a technical malfunction?
He tried again to crack the "Abyss Key." This time, he tried using binary code. He frantically entered a long string of numbers on the wristband, and his wrist began to heat up slightly. Suddenly, the wristband screen lit up, displaying a familiar interface. Not any operating system he remembered, but a deep blue, star-like interface. A line of text appeared on the interface: "Welcome back, Dr. Li Wei."
An old voice rang in his ears, "Your consciousness has been successfully transferred to the cloud. The failure of the physical body is just an accident. Our research has made a major breakthrough."
Li Wei froze. He was not a programmer, but a scientist who uploaded his consciousness. All his efforts pointed to a pre-existing end. His original body was already dead, and his current existence was just a piece of digital consciousness existing in the data stream.
He trembled, wanting to turn off the wristband, to escape this nightmare. But another line of text appeared on the screen: "A new physical body is being cultivated, please be patient."
Below the screen, a progress bar slowly grew, 1%, 2%, 3%...
Li Wei stared blankly, a desperate smile on his face. He was no longer "Li Wei," a past locked by a password, but a future defined by code. His identity crisis had finally found an answer, a chilling answer.