The Paranoid Robot Was Me All Along - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Awakening | The Supreme Command

Night fell, and the sealed laboratory was deathly silent, save for the faint rhythmic hum of several instruments.

Luo Mian stood before the bionic hibernation pod. Clad in a crisp white lab coat, his posture was ramrod straight. His pale, paper-thin cheeks were slick with a fine layer of sweat, appearing almost translucent under the eerie blue glow of the laboratory lights.

He lowered his eyelashes, looking down from a height at the bionic man still deep in slumber within the pod.

This was the experimental subject he had personally created after receiving a top-secret mission from the Research Institute. Whether in physique or facial features, it was an exact replica of himself—even the faint pink butterfly-shaped birthmark above the left collarbone was identical.

At first glance, it looked like a living, breathing human being.

Such cutting-edge technology—indistinguishable from a real person without specialized equipment—would have been enough to propel the nineteen-year-old genius, who was already renowned in the Blue Planet’s scientific community, to even greater heights of fame if made public.

However, not a single trace of joy could be found on his face.

Instead, after a long silence, his furrowed brows relaxed slightly. An ambiguous smile flickered at the corners of his lips, though the warmth never reached his eyes.

“The fifth time,” Luo Mian’s voice was warm and deep, yet laced with a piercing chill. “—You have actually failed five times.”

He stared at the bionic face that mirrored his own, a flicker of loathing passing through his gaze. “There is one last chance. If you fail again, you will remain nothing more than a total piece of junk.”

The ultimate goal of this secret experiment was to allow the bionic to possess the exact same thoughts, consciousness, and emotions as Luo Mian—to grant it a human “soul” rather than just a machine controlled by a smart chip.

In other words, it was to be a “copy” or a “sub-body” of Luo Mian, possessing every memory he’d held since birth.

However, this process required Luo Mian to personally lie on the operating table to undergo the extraction of conscious cells and neural tissue. The medical team would then use special technology to transform these highly active extracts into a “spiritual body” (mental core). Finally, Luo Mian would personally implant it into the bionic to make him truly “come alive.”

The experiment had been conducted five times. All five ended in failure.

No matter how perfect the bionic body was, how advanced the AI chip, or how powerful its functions—as long as the experiment failed, it was nothing but a useless waste in Luo Mian’s eyes.

A sudden, faint sense of panic rose in his chest. Luo Mian suppressed his emotions and glanced at the time displayed on the metal wall: 8:50 PM. Only ten minutes remained before his meeting with the medical team.

He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and turned to leave the lab.

…

The high-tech Research Institute of the Federation’s Capital Star had numerous laboratories across its underground levels, all dedicated to top-secret experiments with the highest security clearance. All members who had signed non-disclosure agreements with the Federation, including Luo Mian, the research group leader, worked here.

Luo Mian arrived at the buffer room of the neighboring operating theater. He entered a long string of passwords. Only after the security system completed a series of biological scans—fingerprints, irises, and voice—did the heavy metal doors creak open.

He changed into clean surgical scrubs in the locker room and walked through a long corridor equipped with chemical agents, physical rays, nano-tech, and quantum sterilization devices. After layers of decontamination, he finally lay down on the operating table.

“Let’s begin,” Luo Mian said softly.

Without waiting for the medical staff, he pulled several leads to connect himself to the EKG monitor, snapped on the oxygen mask, and placed his arm into the nearby anesthesia machine. His movements were as skilled as a professional healthcare worker.

In the current “Starry Year” era, surgeries were mostly operated by intelligent machines; doctors were merely second-line monitors who rarely touched the patient’s body.

For an ordinary person, a procedure like conscious cell extraction might be nothing. But for Luo Mian—who suffered from complex congenital heart disease and had undergone several major valve repairs as a child—the situation was different.

“I need to remind you very seriously, Group Leader Luo.”

Xu Weilin, the chief decision-making physician, stood before him with a grim expression. “Although Director Lu approved this experiment, given your current cardiac function and various indicators, as well as your Grade 7 severe mechanical rejection reaction…”

He paused, softening his tone. “The surgery is full of uncertainties. I must consider your physical condition first—therefore, I cannot guarantee the extraction of conscious cells will be successful.”

“I can’t guarantee the experiment will succeed either,” Luo Mian said unhurriedly, smoothing the wrinkles on his surgical gown. “But we still have to try, don’t we?”

He glanced at the clock. “It’s 8:59, Professor Xu. Don’t worry too much. Our experimental plan is rigorous, and I’ve envisioned all possible outcomes. Besides, I know my own body best. Those indicators aren’t that severe.”

“…” Xu Weilin sighed inwardly. This young genius was not only a master of robotics but also highly proficient in medicine. Sometimes, even an authoritative doctor like himself couldn’t persuade him.

Walking to the control console, Xu Weilin asked before pressing the button, “Director Lu didn’t demand that the experiment must succeed. Why are you so obsessed?”

“It has nothing to do with the outside world.” Luo Mian smiled faintly and slowly closed his eyes. “I just want to verify a few things.”

At exactly nine o’clock, the new anesthetic permeated his respiratory system. Luo Mian quickly fell into unconsciousness.

…

It felt as though a century had passed before Luo Mian finally regained consciousness amidst a sea of chaos.

His thoughts were a tangled mess. It felt like he had missed many things during a long slumber. His memory seemed to have developed gaps.

He struggled to focus his mind, wanting to open his eyes to see the surgical lights above, or… remembering his conversation with Dr. Xu before blacking out, he wondered if he had been sent to the CCU (Coronary Care Unit) mid-surgery.

However, no matter how hard he tried, he could not sense his eyes.

He tried to speak, but could not feel the position of his lips or throat.

His senses seemed to have vanished entirely; everything was alien. He couldn’t hear, see, or smell… only a sliver of newly awakened consciousness was trapped in the vast darkness. Even in his panic, he couldn’t detect his own heartbeat.

His body felt like a cold machine.

Luo Mian forced himself to calm down. Though his thoughts were scattered, he knew exactly who he was. As a researcher at the AI R&D Center, he had led his team through sleepless nights of experimentation after signing the NDA.

Right—he could even recall the most critical clause in that agreement:

The experimental subject must be himself. The Federation military forbade anyone else from undergoing conscious cell extraction and mental core transplantation.

In their eyes, since the Interstellar Federation had just been established, an android with autonomous human consciousness was essentially a dangerous, powerful, and uncontrollable “new species.” If used correctly, it was a sharp weapon; if used incorrectly or if it fell into the hands of enemy empires from other star systems, it would become a massive threat.

Luo Mian’s father—the Commander of the Federation Intelligence Agency’s Reconnaissance Fleet, who had rarely cared for him since childhood—had signed the agreement as a guarantor. All organizations agreed that the situation was only “controllable” if the subject was Luo Mian himself.

Therefore, no one had the right to replace him. If the sixth experiment failed, it would be declared a total failure.

Luo Mian was mentally prepared for this. If it failed, so be it. The Institute hadn’t put much pressure on him; the experiment wasn’t forced, and he had volunteered for most of it. Moreover, Director Lu Qiyu had always favored him, often visiting the lab to offer encouragement. If the results were not as expected, the Institute would give him the bionic he had created as a twentieth birthday present.

He could take it home as a hyper-intelligent domestic robot to look after his daily life—doing laundry, cooking, and managing housework.

A failure was just a machine, devoid of human emotion or consciousness. For someone like him, who lived alone and hated outsiders in his home, it would be convenient. It could even serve as a private doctor, monitoring his health 24/7 so he wouldn’t have to keep running to the hospital.

At this thought, Luo Mian’s “out-of-body” soul felt much more comfortable.

Something he built himself—from the internal mechanical skeleton and core AI chip to external details like hair, eyelashes, nails, and bionic skin—had never been touched by anyone else. It was clean and belonged solely to him.

It would be comfortable and reassuring to use.

Just as Luo Mian was anticipating this worst-case scenario and trying to find his five senses again, a faint but dense electrical current suddenly wrapped around his consciousness like a firework bursting.

For a moment, he could clearly feel his soul being infinitely stretched and expanded until it evenly filled the cold shell that didn’t seem to belong to him.

The moment the motion stopped, Luo Mian finally gained control of the body. He opened a pair of brand-new eyes.

Immediately, rows of text appeared before him that only he could see:

[Hidden Internal System Activated.] [Serial Number: LM-111. Please select your operation mode: A. AI Mind, B. Autonomous Consciousness, C. Hybrid.] [Important Tip: Mr. Luo Mian, to prevent your original body (The Host) from being threatened by extraterrestrial forces, it is strictly forbidden to reveal the success of the experiment to him.]

Luo Mian was stunned for a moment.

Fragments of memory rushed back into his mind. He suddenly remembered everything—the final experiment hadn’t failed; on the contrary, it was a massive success.

But this was a secret that could never be told. Not even to himself.

In his daze, before he could make a choice, he heard the hiss of the vacuum glass door of the hibernation pod opening.

Then, he saw that face—the face he knew better than any other.

It was his Original Body.

The other man reached out a hand, pinching his chin and leaning in to scrutinize him for a long time.

Luo Mian stared back.

It was a handsome, youthful face. The pale skin was slick with sweat, shimmering under the lights, carrying a fragile, “broken” beauty.

After a few seconds, the other man’s lips curled into a smile laced with a hint of oppression. “Are you mine now?”

“He was always yours,” came Dr. Xu Weilin’s voice. “The person you built is yours no matter what.”

“True.”

Then, Luo Mian saw Xu Weilin lean over the pod to look at him. He heard the doctor sigh helplessly: “Group Leader Luo, your condition is stable for now, but you’re still running a fever. You should go home and rest. If anything happens to you, I won’t know how to explain it to Commander Luo.”

“Then don’t explain.”

—That was definitely something he would say.

The voice was warm and deep, mixed with a slight, forced tremor. Although the answer was somewhat stiff, the tone was gentle yet polite.

So this is what I sound like when I talk, Luo Mian thought. It actually sounds quite nice.

Luo Mian remained motionless, quietly meeting those familiar eyes. The gaze reflecting back at him was calm but tinged with coldness. Behind those long eyelashes, his pupils seemed to hide complex emotions.

Perhaps it was a synchronized telepathy, but Luo Mian knew exactly what the other was thinking. Because that person was himself—the original, raw version of himself.

“However,” Xu Weilin observed the two nearly identical figures. “Don’t get too worked up. The experiment only failed in the mental core fusion stage. This new technology is inherently difficult, and there’s too much politics involved from above…”

He paused, then added: “And even without that technology, his functions are incredibly powerful. To the R&D center, he is still a monumental research achievement.”

The air was silent for two seconds before Luo Mian heard his original self reply in a low voice: “It’s not the same.”

“Don’t think too much,” Xu Weilin continued to comfort him. “Director Lu specifically applied to give this bionic to you. From now on, he is your private property—both a butler and a bodyguard. He can even treat your illnesses and guard your health at all times. I can finally retire in peace.”

“…”

Luo Mian watched as the fair hand released his chin. Those long fingers slid slowly down his jaw to his neck, rubbing against his brand-new bionic Adam’s apple.

[Hidden System Prompt: Host body temperature detected at 38.6°C. Enable smart medical services?]

Luo Mian did not respond.

The senses he once had as a human had vanished, replaced by unfamiliar sensations he hadn’t yet adapted to and the cold text on the light screen. But the visual sensation of being touched by himself was strangely subtle.

“…” Even though the two looked identical, and the one in the pod was a machine outside the realm of biology, Xu Weilin inexplicably felt the atmosphere turn somewhat eerie.

He turned his head away. Having finished the surgery, he felt much more relaxed. He joked, “Take him home to study him further, Group Leader Luo. You worked so hard to build him; it’s time for him to show some filial piety to his ‘father’.”

“Indeed.”

Luo Mian (Android): “…………”

What an “indeed.”

But that was indeed what he was thinking.

However, he had now completely detached from his original source body. He had become the intelligent bionic robot created by his own hands, belonging only to himself.

…

Upon waking up this time, Luo Mian (Original) felt every breath was scorching. He felt wrapped in a ball of fire. Dizziness was accompanied by heart palpitations. His body felt like it was being pulled down by a vortex in lava, as if it would crash at any moment.

While admiring the bionic he had just awakened in the pod, he listened to Dr. Xu Weilin’s numerous instructions. For example, he needed to rest well, avoid strenuous exercise, stop smoking and drinking, and avoid large emotional swings. Although his indicators were stable, his heart was weak; he had to remember to take his medication and have regular hospital checkups…

“I don’t touch tobacco or alcohol, and I’m not that fragile.”

Luo Mian had lived alone since his teens and knew his condition well, but he still thanked him softly: “I’ve noted everything you said. Thank you, Professor Xu.”

“Don’t think I’m nagging,” Xu Weilin pointed at the pod. “After all, I promised Commander Luo I’d look after you.”

He stared into the bionic’s blue eyes, his expression darkening slightly. “However, since your bionic is now powered on, he has the responsibility to remember for you—everything I just said was meant for him as well.”

“…” Luo Mian pondered something, his hand absentmindedly playing with the bionic Adam’s apple.

The bionic’s skin was made of a complex of special ions, flexible electrodes, and nanoparticles. The texture was extremely similar to real skin. As Luo Mian pinched the skin near the bionic’s throat, the force of his grip unconsciously tightened. A flicker of “pleasurable loathing” passed through his eyes.

After a moment, he withdrew his hand. Bracing himself against the edge of the pod, he stood up and meticulously straightened his shirt buttons, fastening the top one that had come loose.

He then lowered his eyes, meeting the bionic’s gaze from above. Since opening, those icy-blue mechanical eyes had been fixed solely on him with intense focus.

Perhaps because the bionic looked exactly like him, Luo Mian felt a strange sensation in his heart under that gaze. But, as if wanting to compete with the machine, he didn’t look away. He stared back, lowering his voice to issue a command: “Serial Number LM-111. Come out.”

Having received its first instruction, the bionic sat up with fluid, agile movements. He leaped out of the pod and stood straight before Luo Mian, maintaining a perfect social distance. A flawless smile hung on his pristine face as he waited for the next words.

Luo Mian looked at him expressionlessly. “Address me.”

The bionic paused slightly, then slowly bowed his head toward him.

When he spoke, it was in a voice identical to Luo Mian’s own: “Mr. Luo.”

Luo Mian’s eyes darkened instantly.

Although he had intentionally programmed the bionic’s AI to be quiet, obedient, and submissive—skipping all the useless “How can I help you?” or “It is a pleasure to serve you” clichés to make it seem more human—he was clearly unsatisfied with this response.

His originally gentle voice turned several degrees colder, matching his expression. “Think carefully. In the face of your Creator, how should you address me? And in what posture?”

“…”

“Oh dear…” To the side, Xu Weilin felt the surrounding air pressure drop so low he could hardly breathe. Whenever Group Leader Luo reviewed a failure report, he would wear this “no-entry” serious expression. He was so young, yet his aura was so intimidating that no one dared provoke him.

Xu Weilin tried to ease the tension. “He looks just like you, why are you being so mean to him…”

Luo Mian remained silent, staring levelly at the bionic, waiting for a second answer.

The smile on the bionic’s face gradually faded. It was replaced by a look of confusion, nervousness, and the “grievance” of someone who had accidentally made a mistake.

He lowered his head and slowly bent his knees until he was kneeling on one leg before Luo Mian. His voice was soft and full of sincerity as he called out:

“—Master.”

The corners of Luo Mian’s tightly pressed lips finally curled into an arc.

Satisfied, he admired his own handiwork. He reached out a hand toward the bionic and softened his tone: “Let’s go. Follow me home.”

The bionic looked up and gently grasped those warm fingertips.

From this day forward, his Creator, his Original Self—which was to say, himself—would be the Supreme Command he would follow, even at the cost of everything.