New York is okay today?

The sound of an engine could be heard from afar. The roar followed the wind, quickly overwhelming the cicadas' chorus of a New York summer. In an instant, a black motorcycle flashed from the intersection, speeding against the light. Soon, the bike screeched to a halt in front of a convenience store. The driver dismounted, casually tossing his sunglasses onto the seat, creating a crisp clatter. A few minutes later, the motorcycle was parked aside, and Laleye sat on the steps, legs crossed, nibbling on a sandwich while squinting to observe a particular window of an apartment building across the street. To passersby, this scene appeared quite pleasing. Undoubtedly, she was a Latina beauty. Her mixed heritage gave her distinct features, with every detail just right. Her complexion was smooth and delicate, complemented by strands of brown hair tinged with gold, as if kissed by sunlight. Her blue-green eyes reflected the ocean and the wind, akin to the reflection of paradise in people's imagination – soft and fresh in hue. However, the person herself was unaware of her allure, glancing at the grimy window of the apartment. Laleye shifted her gaze away, focusing on the air in front of her. As she imagined, a transparent panel unfolded before her. In an era before the widespread use of printing, a few people opted for more efficient memory methods. They constructed memory palaces in their minds to store and retrieve information. This method was not difficult to learn but required prolonged practice. Memory palaces came in various forms, not limited to any particular structure, much like the one constructed by Laleye. The transparent panel was exceedingly simple. At the top were rows of function buttons, which could switch between different interfaces according to her thoughts. Currently, half of them were grayed out, with only "Missions" and "Encyclopedia" faintly illuminated. Memories were categorized and stored in the "Encyclopedia" section. A solitary mission lay in the "Missions" interface, while a long progress bar stretched across the top. [Objective: Establish a city] [Progress: 0%] [Recommendation: No city is built on fantasies. First, you should acquire a piece of land.] ... Who in this era would think of building a city anyway? Every time she saw this objective, Laleye felt a pang of despair. This objective had suddenly appeared on her mission panel, and it was unusually persistent – no matter how much she tried, she couldn't delete it, and it appeared before her eyes every day without fail. However, Laleye neither knew why she had to build a city nor how to do it. The only thing she was sure of was how absurdly far-fetched this goal seemed. She couldn't help but want to open up and discuss what was going on. But starting from scratch... Even in a simulation game, shouldn't they at least provide a basic plot of land? Unfortunately, complaints were of no use. Laleye could only console herself that this was just a passing thought, and not completing it wouldn't be a problem. In comparison, the only task below was obviously less forgiving. Her melancholic gaze lingered on this goal for a moment before shifting away, heavily staring at the only task in the mission panel – or rather, the trouble she was about to face. [Task Name: The Man in the Fridge] [Task Difficulty: Unknown] [Task Objective: Deal with a corpse] [Task Description: It's known that putting an elephant in the fridge only takes three steps: open the fridge, put the elephant in, close the fridge. So how many steps does it take to put a person in the fridge?] [Task Reward: Legal identity ×1, Apartment key ×1] [Task Status: Pending] I think I need a beginner's guide. Laleye just wanted to swallow a mouthful of blood. Setting aside the sandwich, she raised her left hand. The feather bracelet slid off naturally, revealing her particularly slender wrist and the inconspicuous needle marks on it. She was dressed much like any twenty-something New York girl, with a Western style: a T-shirt and denim jacket, jeans tucked into brown short boots, and a embroidered scarf tied around her waist. A string of Native American-style feather bracelets adorned her wrist, conveniently covering the injection marks. She knew very well what these marks represented, but they only made her more despondent. She quickly finished the sandwich, tossed the wrapper into the trash can, and almost simultaneously, heard a faint voice in her ear. The voice sounded like that of a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy, with a pure American accent, grumbling discontentedly, "Is it Iron Man again? Geez, I hope he's not getting into a fight with someone..." At the sudden sound, Laleye's heart skipped a beat. She slowly stopped her movements, turned her head to look around. There was no one nearby, and it seemed that no one else had heard this voice. Laleye was taken aback, recalling something, and then breathed a sigh of relief, tilting her head slightly and looking up at the sky. The reason Laleye didn't have a further reaction now was that this wasn't the first time she had heard such strange auditory hallucinations. Starting a few days ago, Laleye began experiencing bizarre auditory hallucinations, as if someone were whispering in her ear. As she traversed South America, the speakers changed continuously, from a girl to an old woman, from a boy to an old man. Most of the time, the content was nothing special – complaining about the weather, discussing politics... but occasionally, there were some disturbing remarks. This time's auditory hallucination sounded like an ordinary New York teenager who had seen news of Iron Man appearing on TV or simply witnessed the crimson figure streaking across the sky, then made a casual complaint. Am I going crazy? I'm not crazy. So what is this auditory hallucination? After listening to these auditory hallucinations for so many days and confirming her mental sanity, Laleye had a guess in her mind. Now it's time to verify this guess. Looking at the task on the transparent panel, Laleye knew she couldn't avoid verifying it. Otherwise, her outcome wouldn't be pleasant. She rubbed her forehead, but before she could react, the voice of the teenager suddenly sounded with a hint of anger. He spat out a curse starting with "F," followed by, "He's smashing buildings again!" Laleye took a deep breath and echoed him, "He's smashing buildings again." Ever since she arrived in New York, the speaker had changed to this teenager. Along the way, Laleye frequently heard his incessant complaints – first about how long the NYPD had been busy in Hell's Kitchen without handling the bodies in the SoHo district, then murmuring about why there were always so many people on the Hudson River in summer, and later on about how long the maintenance worker intended to stay drunk and if he wanted to be fired. "If they don't fix the sewers on Fifth Avenue soon, I'm going to rust!" he concluded. These scattered remarks seemed ordinary on their own, but together they emitted a hint of eeriness. For instance, now, after a moment of silence, he angrily exclaimed, "Your dad never hit me like this!" ...That doesn't sound good, Laleye thought to herself. However, she didn't change her plan and simply repeated his words, "Your dad never hit me like this." The moment these words left her mouth, the teenager's voice abruptly stopped. Laleye wasn't surprised by his reaction. After experiencing so many samples, Laleye had made some discoveries – regardless of the differences in these voices, they all had one thing in common: they were all well-informed about everything happening in the city, as if their eyes and ears were everywhere. Even their complaints about the news were too rapid, and most of the time, their information was even more up-to-date than the news itself. If these voices didn't belong to employees of the government's intelligence department or some alien race monitoring the Earth – if that were true, their emotions would be too rich – then there was another conclusion that seemed far-fetched. A few seconds later, the teenager, with a hint of imperceptible nervousness, asked angrily, "Who are you?" Until now, Laleye could only receive the voices unilaterally. If she wanted to communicate with the owner of the voice, she first had to attract their attention, which was difficult. However, taking their knowledge of everything happening in the city as a premise, repeating what they said would be enough to get their attention. At the moment, the teenager's reaction was much faster than Laleye had imagined. Relieved, Laleye found her mind wandering unconsciously. - From the establishment of New York until now, am I the first person who can converse with him? She placed her right hand over her chest and bowed, "I am Laleye." At that moment, Laleye finally confirmed that the voices she heard were not auditory hallucinations but rather emanated from the city itself. In other words, she could hear the voice of the city's will... though New York didn't sound very reliable. So this is what you're like, New York. Laleye couldn't help but gesture and point at New York inwardly. Faced with unexpected reactions, people seemed to be unanimous, and it appeared that cities were no exception. "Can you hear me?" With this statement, New York seemed to realize its excessive emotion and immediately toned down the surprise in its voice, replacing it with indifference. "Interesting, you can hear me." Laleye: "..." She moved her lips, but in the end, she didn't speak.