There exists in this world something called a “Meme.”
When enough people simultaneously and strongly believe that something that shouldn’t exist actually does exist, that thing will truly appear in this world.
It could be a person, an animal, a concept, or even an event.
The people of this world have grown accustomed to this.
They even established a specialized organization to handle it—the GMRA (Global Meme Response Agency), officially endorsed by the UN Security Council, spearheaded by the five permanent members, capable of deploying military forces, with branches in every country.
To this world, Meme incidents are probably about the same as weather forecasts—hard to predict, but generally manageable; newsworthy, yet not surprising.
All of this, Yin Qi read from the world’s Information Field within about three seconds of being born into it.
She found it quite interesting.
***
On an ordinary Wednesday late at night, in the suburbs of Shanghai, Kingdom of Yan, inside an abandoned factory complex that had been slated for demolition for years, where weeds had grown waist-high.
No flash, no explosion, no iconic roar, not even a single witness.
Yin Qi just stood there, abruptly.
She looked down at herself in surprise: long black hair hanging to her waist, slender fingers resting on her waist, wearing a dark coat she couldn’t quite place where it came from, and black thigh-high socks on both legs.
Standing among wild grass and rubble, she flexed her fingers and began assessing her current situation:
First, this place was probably not Earth, and she was probably no longer the guy playing games on a laptop in the dormitory.
This conclusion came very naturally, with a sense of calm acceptance.
After all, the facts were already right in front of her; struggling over it wouldn’t help.
Second, she was now a Meme.
She wasn’t sure what type of Meme exactly—she sensed herself from the Information Field as a fog without clear shape, only vaguely feeling that she was large, too large to explain.
Third, the organization responsible for containing and managing Memes in this world was called the GMRA.
They had an alphanumeric classification system based on threat level, headquarters in Geneva, with the Yan branch right here in Shanghai.
The night shift workers at the branch were currently drinking coffee in the office.
…Wait, that’s Luckin?
Such a letdown.
I thought they only drank freshly brewed coffee…
Actually, is this place really that similar to Earth?
Yin Qi nodded inwardly, feeling that this world was pretty normal except for the addition of the “Meme” species.
Basically, it was no different from her original Earth.
Fourth, she was now female.
***
She looked around.
The abandoned factory warehouse cast long shadows in the moonlight, and in the distance, she could vaguely see the city lights.
She took a deep breath.
The air had the smell of earth and grass, mixed with an indescribable dampness.
“Alright…” she said to herself.
“Let’s take a look first.”
She took a step, intending to walk toward the lights.
After about twenty steps, she felt it: something was scanning her, originating from about two kilometers away.
Yin Qi stopped, tilted her head, and glanced in that direction.
…Huh, probably a GMRA detection device.
The detector had clearly found something—she felt the scanning sensation suddenly stop, then sweep over her three times at a faster pace.
Yin Qi stood there, squinting slightly in that direction.
She could sense the device two kilometers away.
She could also vaguely feel the operator freezing in place, then picking up a radio.
She sighed.
“Alright,” she turned, looked back at the abandoned factory complex, found a relatively clean stone block to sit on, “I’ll just wait for you guys to pick me up.”
The GMRA Yan branch’s emergency response was faster than she expected.
About forty minutes later, two black SUVs stopped at the edge of the abandoned factory complex.
Their headlights came on, illuminating a large open area.
Yin Qi sat on the stone block, chin propped on her hand, legs crossed, watching the spectacle.
Six people got out of the vehicles.
Four of them were wearing dark tactical gear and carrying various devices.
The other two seemed to be team leaders—one was on a low-voice call, the other was holding a detector and scanning in her direction.
The detector showed no reaction.
That was the abnormal part—a humanoid Meme like her should not be a very low level; the detector would definitely give a reading.
Yin Qi heard the person holding the device say, “Target confirmed, position stable, no hostile behavior detected for now. Readings… readings are abnormal. Recommend upgrading response level.”
The radio was silent for a moment, then came back: “Maintain observation. Do not approach rashly. Wait for backup.”
“…” Yin Qi rolled her eyes.
She waited for a while, but the six people across from her didn’t move an inch, standing like six telephone poles.
She stood up from the stone block in exasperation, patted the dust off her stockings, then leisurely walked toward the six of them.
She saw two of them immediately put their hands to their waists.
Yin Qi didn’t stop.
She walked to about ten meters away and stopped, speaking in a fairly casual tone:
“You guys are so slow. I’ve been waiting for forty minutes.”
The six were collectively silent.
Yin Qi watched them exchange glances.
The person holding the detector spoke: “Confirm your nature of existence.”
“Meme. Newly born. Your instruments should have told you that already.”
“…It seems you’ve already grasped relevant information. So tell us, what level are you approximately?”
“Why ask me? Can’t you measure it yourselves?”
The person holding the detector glanced at his device, didn’t answer, just turned the screen away so she couldn’t see it.
Yin Qi sensed that the screen displayed: “Please point at the target to be measured.”
She found it a little strange.
Did that mean it hadn’t detected any Meme?
Was she so weak that the instrument couldn’t pick her up?
The team leader stepped forward, noticeably calmer than the ordinary members: “Where were you born?”
“Right here,” she casually pointed at the ground beneath her.
“This open space. Nothing happened, no effects, no unusual activity.”
The team leader was silent again for a few seconds, apparently waiting for instructions from the radio.
Yin Qi waited a moment, then added: “I have no hostile intentions, and I’m not planning to run. I’ve been sitting here for forty minutes, and I’m exhausted.”
Team leader: “…”
In the end, no backup came.
Probably because she was behaving so calmly—calm enough that the command center on the other end of the comms thought it “didn’t seem like a dangerous situation.”
Or maybe because her readings were so strange—too low, causing the instrument to error—that they couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
They had a small meeting on the spot, then the team leader came forward and said in a standardized official tone: “Per Article 17 of the GMRA regulations, for a Meme that has just been born and voluntarily cooperates, we will conduct a preliminary assessment and registration. Do you agree to cooperate?”
Yin Qi thought about it.
“Cooperating is fine,” she said, “but I have one question.”
“…Ask.”
“You’re going to give me a place to live, right?”
They clearly hadn’t expected the first thing a newly born humanoid Meme would care about was housing.
“…It will be arranged,” he finally said.
“Good,” Yin Qi nodded.
“Take me away.”
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