At the heart of the city stands a magnificent structure known as the "Symbiosis Tower." It is not built of steel and concrete, but of countless precise, transparent glass conduits through which flows the lifeblood that sustains the city—streams of information and luminous intelligence. At the tower's core lies a place called the "Pure Creation Chamber." Here, highly skilled "Light Architects" use specialized spectrometers to weave intangible thoughts and code into stable, efficient, visible streams of light, driving the city's gears to mesh with precision.The young Light Architect Wen Lin single-handedly designed and built the tower's newest and most critical subsystem—the "Dawn Circuit." He replaced the old, inefficient, and easily clogged "Stone-Stacking Method" with a unique technique called "Light-Condensing Art." The Dawn Circuit was elegant and efficient, its light as clear and pure as morning dew, dispelling the murky heat haze that plagued the old system. Wen Lin was its sole creator and maintainer, his name engraved in the most prominent place on the circuit's base. The management of the Symbiosis Tower had publicly praised Wen Lin's contribution, calling the Dawn Circuit "the cornerstone of the Symbiosis Tower's future."Then, one unremarkable morning, as Wen Lin stepped into the Pure Creation Chamber as usual to optimize a node of the Dawn Circuit, a cold reality struck him. His identity light-key—the crystal that allowed him to access the circuit's core, adjust its spectrum, and even transfer its ownership—had been deactivated. The entrance to the Pure Creation Chamber, a door of pure light that had once slid silently open for him, now barred his way mercilessly, leaving only a blurry, distant projection.Shocked, Wen Lin demanded an explanation from the tower's management through the emergency communication link. The response was not a direct explanation, but a series of cold words wrapped in the sugary coating of "Tower Regulations" and "Collective Interest." Several elderly men in worn-out robes of the "Stone-Stackers" (former maintainers of the old system, utterly ignorant of the Light-Condensing Art) appeared on the communication screen, their tone carrying a suffocating, condescending regret."Ah, Wen Lin," the elder among them said slowly, fingering a stone tablet covered in scratches, a symbol of old-era authority. "Your Dawn Circuit... its light is indeed dazzling. But the problem is, it is too 'cohesive.' We cannot clearly observe every turn of its internal light path. This does not comply with the Symbiosis Tower's ancient regulation of 'transparent co-creation.' How can a system so important be a 'black box' that only you can fully understand?"Another added, with a barely perceptible sneer: "According to Article 137 of the Tower Regulations, the management rights of any 'non-standard' or 'overly specialized' core component must be transferred to the Tower's 'Co-Management Committee.' This is for the long-term stability of the tower, to avoid risks caused by individual factors. You still retain the permission to 'inject light flow.' This is already the committee's greatest goodwill and trust."Wen Lin felt a dizzying sense of absurdity. The so-called "black box" was merely the more advanced Light-Condensing Art architecture they couldn't understand! The so-called "risk" was precisely their ignorance and rejection of new technology... He watched helplessly as those Stone-Stackers clumsily attempted to access the Dawn Circuit. Unable to grasp its subtlety, they brutally grafted their familiar, heavy, and inefficient stone-stacking structures onto the circuit's entrance and exit. The originally clear dawn light was forced through these rough, obstructing stone gaps, becoming dim and distorted, emitting a strained groan. The entire Symbiosis Tower seemed to tremble slightly.Wen Lin was forced to leave the core area of the Pure Creation Chamber. However, the real torture had only just begun. On the tower's internal communication channels, on the light screens in the public rest areas, and even in the corners of the "Symbiosis Bulletin" for city residents, a cold, pervasive insinuation began to spread. When mentioning the Dawn Circuit, the management no longer used the name "Wen Lin," but instead referred to "a former Light Architect," "some experimenter," or simply the sarcastic "that black box master.""Recently, some light flow leakage has occurred in the Dawn Circuit," a Stone-Stacker said expressionlessly to the light screen during one briefing. "This reminds us once again how dangerous it is to rely on 'someone's' mysterious technology. Fortunately, we took back the management rights in time and are now proceeding to gradually replace certain opaque parts with the robust and reliable 'Stone-Stacking Method' to ensure the tower's foundation is stable." Below the stage, some low-level Light Architects who didn't know the truth murmured in agreement, casting glances of doubt and alienation towards Wen Lin.Standing in the shadow of the tower, Wen Lin watched the light he had poured his life into creating being usurped, defiled, and stigmatized. He was deprived of even the right to touch it, let alone protect it. He had become a ghost living in the "Symbiosis Tower," a "someone" hunted by the system's carefully constructed rumors. His very existence seemed to be an erroneous comment that needed to be erased from the tower's operation. He felt not anger, but a bone-deep cold—a thorough absurdity and desolation of being devoured and spat out by the very system he had nurtured with his own hands.Until one day, you find yourself standing before a similar building. Looking up, the light refracted by the glass conduits stings your eyes. You reach out to touch it, only to find that your fingerprints have been quietly erased from the system.You once believed that code was pure, open-source, and free. You believed contributions would be respected, technology would be understood, and your name would be remembered.But the reality is, some people would rather let everything regress to the Stone Age they know. They dismantle your architecture, graft on their building blocks, and then say to everyone: "See? This is more stable."And you, from a creator, become what they call—"someone."It turns out, that tower was always there.
The Light Architect in the Tower
At the heart of the city stands a magnificent structure known as the "Symbiosis Tower." It is not built of steel and concrete, but of countless precise, transparent glass conduits through which flows the lifeblood that sustains the city—streams of information and luminous intelligence. At the tower's core lies a place called the "Pure Creation Chamber." Here, highly skilled "Light Architects" use specialized spectrometers to weave intangible thoughts and code into stable, efficient, visible streams of light, driving the city's gears to mesh with precision.
The young Light Architect Wen Lin single-handedly designed and built the tower's newest and most critical subsystem—the "Dawn Circuit." He replaced the old, inefficient, and easily clogged "Stone-Stacking Method" with a unique technique called "Light-Condensing Art." The Dawn Circuit was elegant and efficient, its light as clear and pure as morning dew, dispelling the murky heat haze that plagued the old system. Wen Lin was its sole creator and maintainer, his name engraved in the most prominent place on the circuit's base. The management of the Symbiosis Tower had publicly praised Wen Lin's contribution, calling the Dawn Circuit "the cornerstone of the Symbiosis Tower's future."
Then, one unremarkable morning, as Wen Lin stepped into the Pure Creation Chamber as usual to optimize a node of the Dawn Circuit, a cold reality struck him. His identity light-key—the crystal that allowed him to access the circuit's core, adjust its spectrum, and even transfer its ownership—had been deactivated. The entrance to the Pure Creation Chamber, a door of pure light that had once slid silently open for him, now barred his way mercilessly, leaving only a blurry, distant projection.
Shocked, Wen Lin demanded an explanation from the tower's management through the emergency communication link. The response was not a direct explanation, but a series of cold words wrapped in the sugary coating of "Tower Regulations" and "Collective Interest." Several elderly men in worn-out robes of the "Stone-Stackers" (former maintainers of the old system, utterly ignorant of the Light-Condensing Art) appeared on the communication screen, their tone carrying a suffocating, condescending regret.
"Ah, Wen Lin," the elder among them said slowly, fingering a stone tablet covered in scratches, a symbol of old-era authority. "Your Dawn Circuit... its light is indeed dazzling. But the problem is, it is too 'cohesive.' We cannot clearly observe every turn of its internal light path. This does not comply with the Symbiosis Tower's ancient regulation of 'transparent co-creation.' How can a system so important be a 'black box' that only you can fully understand?"
Another added, with a barely perceptible sneer: "According to Article 137 of the Tower Regulations, the management rights of any 'non-standard' or 'overly specialized' core component must be transferred to the Tower's 'Co-Management Committee.' This is for the long-term stability of the tower, to avoid risks caused by individual factors. You still retain the permission to 'inject light flow.' This is already the committee's greatest goodwill and trust."
Wen Lin felt a dizzying sense of absurdity. The so-called "black box" was merely the more advanced Light-Condensing Art architecture they couldn't understand! The so-called "risk" was precisely their ignorance and rejection of new technology... He watched helplessly as those Stone-Stackers clumsily attempted to access the Dawn Circuit. Unable to grasp its subtlety, they brutally grafted their familiar, heavy, and inefficient stone-stacking structures onto the circuit's entrance and exit. The originally clear dawn light was forced through these rough, obstructing stone gaps, becoming dim and distorted, emitting a strained groan. The entire Symbiosis Tower seemed to tremble slightly.
Wen Lin was forced to leave the core area of the Pure Creation Chamber. However, the real torture had only just begun. On the tower's internal communication channels, on the light screens in the public rest areas, and even in the corners of the "Symbiosis Bulletin" for city residents, a cold, pervasive insinuation began to spread. When mentioning the Dawn Circuit, the management no longer used the name "Wen Lin," but instead referred to "a former Light Architect," "some experimenter," or simply the sarcastic "that black box master."
"Recently, some light flow leakage has occurred in the Dawn Circuit," a Stone-Stacker said expressionlessly to the light screen during one briefing. "This reminds us once again how dangerous it is to rely on 'someone's' mysterious technology. Fortunately, we took back the management rights in time and are now proceeding to gradually replace certain opaque parts with the robust and reliable 'Stone-Stacking Method' to ensure the tower's foundation is stable." Below the stage, some low-level Light Architects who didn't know the truth murmured in agreement, casting glances of doubt and alienation towards Wen Lin.
Standing in the shadow of the tower, Wen Lin watched the light he had poured his life into creating being usurped, defiled, and stigmatized. He was deprived of even the right to touch it, let alone protect it. He had become a ghost living in the "Symbiosis Tower," a "someone" hunted by the system's carefully constructed rumors. His very existence seemed to be an erroneous comment that needed to be erased from the tower's operation. He felt not anger, but a bone-deep cold—a thorough absurdity and desolation of being devoured and spat out by the very system he had nurtured with his own hands.
Until one day, you find yourself standing before a similar building. Looking up, the light refracted by the glass conduits stings your eyes. You reach out to touch it, only to find that your fingerprints have been quietly erased from the system.
You once believed that code was pure, open-source, and free. You believed contributions would be respected, technology would be understood, and your name would be remembered.
But the reality is, some people would rather let everything regress to the Stone Age they know. They dismantle your architecture, graft on their building blocks, and then say to everyone: "See? This is more stable."
And you, from a creator, become what they call—"someone."
It turns out, that tower was always there.