In the heart of the city stands a magnificent building called the "Symbiosis Tower". It is not built of reinforced concrete, but of countless precise, transparent glass tubes through which flows the lifeblood that sustains the city—the flows of information and light of wisdom. At the core of the tower is a place known as the "Pure Creation Chamber". Here, skilled "Light Architects" use special spectrometers to weave intangible thoughts and codes into stable, efficient, visible light flows that drive the city's gears to mesh precisely.

A young Light Architect, Wen Lin, single-handedly designed and built the newest and most critical subsystem in the tower—the "Dawn Circuit". Using a unique technique called "Light Coagulation Art", he replaced the old, inefficient, and clog-prone "Stone-Stacking Method". The Dawn Circuit was elegant and efficient; its light was as clear and pure as morning dew, dispelling the murky heat haze generated by the old system's operation. Wen Lin was the sole creator and maintainer of this circuit, and his name was engraved in the most prominent place on the circuit's base. The management of the Symbiosis Tower once publicly praised Wen Lin's contribution, calling the Dawn Circuit "the cornerstone of the Symbiosis Tower's future".

However, one seemingly ordinary morning, as Wen Lin stepped into the Pure Creation Chamber as usual, ready 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 core, adjust the spectrum, and even transfer ownership of the circuit—had failed. The door at the entrance of the Pure Creation Chamber, which had once silently slid open for him, composed of a pure light curtain, now mercilessly blocked his way, leaving only a vague and distant projection.

Shocked, Wen Lin questioned the tower's management via the emergency communication link. The response was not a direct explanation, but a series of cold words wrapped in the sugar-coating of "Tower Regulations" and "Collective Interest". A few elders dressed in worn robes of "Stone-Stackers" (they had been maintainers of the old system, completely ignorant of the Light Coagulation Art) appeared on the communication screen, their tones carrying a suffocating, condescending regret.

"Wen Lin," the elder at the head said slowly, his fingers twisting a stone chip covered with 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 conform to the ancient regulation of 'transparent co-building' of the Symbiosis Tower. How can such an important system become a 'black box' that only you can fully understand?"

Another added, with a barely noticeable tone of mockery: "According to Article 137 of the Tower Regulations, any 'non-standard' or 'over-specialized' core component must have its management rights transferred to the Tower's 'Joint Management Committee'. This is for the long-term stability of the tower, to avoid risks caused by individual factors. You still have the permission to 'inject light flow', which is already the maximum goodwill and trust of the committee."

Wen Lin felt a dizzying absurdity. The so-called "black box" was nothing but a more advanced Light Coagulation architecture that they could not understand! The so-called "risk" precisely stemmed from their ignorance and rejection of new technology... He watched helplessly as those Stone-Stackers clumsily attempted to connect to the Dawn Circuit. Unable to grasp its subtlety, they roughly grafted their familiar, heavy, and inefficient stone-stacking structures at the circuit's inlet and outlet. The once pure and clear dawn light was forced to pass through these rough, obstructing stone gaps, becoming dim, distorted, and emitting a strained groan. The entire Symbiosis Tower seemed to tremble slightly as a result.

Wen Lin was forced to leave the core area of the Pure Creation Chamber. However, the real torture had just begun. In the tower's internal communication channels, on the light screens in the public rest area, and even in the corners of the "Symbiosis Bulletin" aimed at city residents, a cold, pervasive insinuation began to spread. When referring to the Dawn Circuit, the management no longer mentioned Wen Lin's name, but replaced it with "a former Light Architect", "a certain 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 a briefing. "This reminds us again how dangerous it is to rely on an individual's mysterious technology. Fortunately, we have taken back the management rights in time and are proceeding to gradually replace certain opaque parts with the robust and reliable 'Stone-Stacking Method' to ensure the foundation of the tower is stable." Below, some low-level Light Architects who did not know the truth murmured in agreement, casting looks of doubt and alienation toward Wen Lin.

Wen Lin stood in the shadow of the tower, watching the light he had poured his life into being usurped, defiled, and stigmatized. He was deprived even of the right to touch it, let alone protect it. He became a ghost living in the Symbiosis Tower, a "someone" hunted by the system's carefully constructed rumors. His very existence seemed to become an erroneous footnote that needed to be erased from the tower's operation. What he felt was not anger, but a bone-chilling coldness—a profound absurdity and desolation of being devoured and rejected 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 glass tubes stinging your eyes. You reach out to touch, only to find that your fingerprints have been silently erased by the system.

You once believed that code was pure, open source, and free. You believed that contributions would be respected, technology would be understood, and names would be remembered.

But the reality is that some people would rather regress everything to the familiar Stone Age. They dismantle your architecture, graft their own building blocks, and then say to everyone: "See, this is more stable."

And you, from a creator, have become the "someone" in their mouths.

It turns out that tower has always been there.