"Can you tell me everything about this thing now?" the Doctor asked in a low voice.
Charles nodded, stepping aside to let him in. "Please, come in."
Facing the Doctor, Charles slowly began to explain everything about the phone. The Doctor listened in silence, his one good hand constantly rubbing the phone's surface.
"This thing is for communication, entertainment, and work. On the Earth's surface, I couldn't survive a single day without it..."
As he spoke, Charles felt as if he were drifting back to that peaceful environment. He hadn't realized it before, but after coming to the chaotic Abyss-Sea, he finally understood how wonderful his previous life had been.
"So, in other words, this is a tool for communication, like a telegraph?"
"You can think of it that way."
The Doctor paused for a moment before speaking. "Actually, I used to have something like this."
This unexpected revelation nearly made Charles choke on his water. He'd guessed right—this guy really did have a phone?!
The Doctor lifted his white robe, so filthy it was almost colorless, and pulled out a square object wrapped in cloth. When Charles saw what was inside, he shot to his feet in shock. It was a black, tablet-like device. The back cover had been removed, leaving its green circuit board completely exposed.
Realizing it was clearly not a product of the Abyss-Sea, Charles quickly asked, "Is this yours? Are you from the Earth's surface too? What year did you come down?"
His first instinct was that the man before him had also fallen, just like himself.
"It's not mine. It belonged to my great-grandfather," the Doctor said, gazing at the tablet with a look of reminiscence on his ugly face. "I don't really know anything about him. My great-grandfather died young, and this is the only thing he left me."
"My father told me to take good care of it, but he never told me what it actually was. It has always been a mystery to me. I've asked many people, but no one knows."
Could his great-grandfather have crossed over like me? Charles quickly discarded the thought. The Doctor was old, meaning his great-grandfather would have been even older. Tablets and phones were invented around the same time, so it was impossible for them to have arrived together.
Thinking this, Charles took the tablet and examined it closely. He soon noticed a difference: compared to modern sleek and lightweight models, the tablet in his hands was obviously much bulkier and cruder. Judging by its weight alone—a full two pounds—Charles could tell this thing was definitely not from the Earth's surface. Any manufacturer who made a tablet like this would go bankrupt in minutes.
"Can you fix it? I doubt I'll have any heirs, so I don't want to pass this on. I just want to know what my great-grandfather wanted his descendants to protect," the Doctor said, his gaze fixed on the tablet.
"Sorry, I can't help you with that." When it came to repairing electronics, Charles was hopeless.
"You said that as long as there's power, this Black Mirror can light up again, right? Does that mean if I give it electricity, this will turn on?"
"I don't know what voltage Coral Island uses, but it's definitely not compatible with your tablet. A reckless attempt will likely destroy it."
A look of frustrated disappointment crossed the Doctor's face.
Charles's thoughts, however, ran deeper. If this thing isn't from the Earth's surface, it must have been made by humans in the Abyss-Sea. But if their technology was advanced enough to create tablets back then, why is Abyss-Sea Technology now stuck at an 18th to 19th-century level? It makes no sense.
The thought instinctively made him recall the island with the Third Laboratory.
If anyone in the Abyss-Sea could have created a tablet, it would have been the people from the Third Laboratory. After all, they even used fingerprint identification. Could the Doctor's great-grandfather have been a staff member there? But that just raises the same question again. Those people possessed advanced technology and so many powerful relics, so where did they all go? The mysteries in his mind only multiplied.
"Anyway, thank you. At least I finally know what my great-grandfather left behind. I'll try to make it light up," the Doctor said, taking the tablet and heading for the door. "Our agreement still stands."
The moment the Doctor opened the door, he startled Margaret, who had been eavesdropping. She quickly scrambled behind Charles, peeking timidly toward the doorway.
The Doctor turned back to Charles. "Should I make her forget what she just heard? I have my ways."
"Forget it. It doesn't matter."
I've told everyone I've met that I'm from the Earth's surface, but they all thought I was a madman. No one ever believed me. When I saw the Sun God Sect imagining the sun as a triangle, I finally understood. People won't believe the truth unless it's shoved right in front of them. Humanity can be so ignorant; they only believe what they want to believe.
The Doctor turned and limped through the corridor toward the dim staircase.
Margaret spoke nervously, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I thought my father had come."
"Not that soon. I've arranged for your things and your letter to be sent to He Fang. It'll take them at least half a month to arrive."
Margaret hesitated for a moment before lowering her head and tapping the floor with her toes. "Sir, can I stay in this room? That other room is so dark... I'm a little scared."
"Whatever. Just be quiet." Charles pulled out his journal and began to write in his sailing log.
Margaret's cheeks gradually grew red as she watched the young man writing with his head bowed.
Charles much preferred life at sea to life on the island. Though the sea was dangerous and harsh, he always felt as though he was moving toward his goal. Staying on the island just felt like wasting time.
He now had a sea chart and a ship, but he couldn't leave yet. First, his injuries hadn't fully healed. Second, the bounty for Sonni's head and the accompanying five million reward had not yet been paid out.
For the next few days, Margaret and Charles spent a brief time together. Margaret stayed in the adjacent room, and any attempt to escape would have been immediately reported by the rats. But the young woman didn't try to flee. On the contrary, as time passed, she began to enjoy this life and found herself, intentionally or not, wanting to stay by Charles's side.
However, these peaceful days did not last long. Early one morning, Charles saw the patrol cruiser of Coral Island's Governor on the water, driving away the fishing boats. He knew something was about to happen.
The gates between the port district and the inner city were rarely open, but today, a grand motorcade drove out. With his excellent eyesight, Charles clearly saw the man inside one of the vehicles. He was wearing heavy, bizarrely enchanting makeup. Charles had seen his face in the newspapers before—it was Nico, the Governor of Coral Island.