Chapter 489 - 477: Buffer Protocol

Chapter 489: Chapter 477: Buffer Protocol

The root of the problem was now clear.

The soul had been operating for ninety in-game days at a tripled time-flow rate, while the physical body had only experienced ten. The discharge rhythm of neural synapses, the feedback loop of muscle memory—everything was stuck on the "old version" from ten days ago.

This frequency mismatch caused the body to fail to respond in time, creating a sense of rejection—the feeling that ’this is not my body’.

When this "accelerated" soul attempted to retake the wheel of a "flesh-car" that had only been driven for thirty days, the gas pedal, the brakes, the steering wheel—everything felt foreign and sluggish.

"Cognitive dissonance, identity migration..."

Allen’s fingertip slid across the light screen, highlighting several key terms.

"It’s consciousness jet lag," Allen defined the phenomenon.

More questions immediately surfaced: Would this "jet lag" worsen as the duration of digitized time increased?

If he downloaded after a year, would the rejection be so intense that the soul could no longer interface with the body at all?

These questions directly pertained to the ultimate feasibility of his [Consciousness Upload] project.

His future goal was to completely upload his soul to the [Allen Network] and live forever through a Golem.

If returning to his original physical body caused such a violent rejection, then switching to a non-carbon-based vessel would make the problem hundreds or even thousands of times more severe.

This wasn’t the first hurdle he had encountered.

While tackling "upload damage"—the problem of how to ensure the soul lost no information during the digitization process—he had also faced a bottleneck.

Later, through massive data analysis, he discovered that the stability of a human soul often hung by a single, thin thread called "Obsession."

Deep within every soul exists an "obsession chain"—with the most profound memory as its core node, radiating outward to connect all secondary memories.

It could be the love for one’s family, the hatred for an enemy, or an extreme desire for a certain goal. Just as a person in a vegetative state might awaken at a single called-out name, the soul’s memory network also needs a "loose thread" to pull on.

Based on this, he wrote the "Obsession Encapsulation Protocol"—using the obsession chain as a skeleton during the upload process to anchor all memorial information to this line, ensuring a lossless conversion.

For him, the beginning of this obsession chain was the "point of origin of humanity" sealed within the "Humanity Operator."

The same logic also solved the "anchor drift" problem. An obsession is, by its nature, the strongest self-identifier, ensuring the soul is not assimilated in the flood of data.

Now, facing the "consciousness jet lag" problem, sub-threads of Allen’s mind were already spinning up, constructing a solution.

’Since the problem is that the "clocks" of the soul and the body are out of sync,’

’then why not just add a "jet lag buffer" before "downloading" the soul back into the body?’

’Just gradually decrease the soul’s operational frequency and recalibrate it with the body’s biological rhythm.’

’It’s like going from a high plateau back to the lowlands; you need to spend some time in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber to acclimate.’

"Jarvis."

"Present, Commander."

"Based on the existing model, construct a ’Soul-Body Synchronization Buffer’ protocol."

"The core logic of the protocol: Add a ’pre-link’ phase before executing the consciousness download."

A new concept took shape in an instant. "First, read the target body’s real-time physiological data to establish a ’physical clock’ baseline."

"Then, fine-tune the consciousness, gradually dialing back the soul’s spiritual frequency until it is perfectly synchronized with the body."

"The entire process will simulate a real-world sleep-wake cycle. Enforce a mandatory ’hibernation’ period to allow the soul to adapt to the new ’sense of time,’ and only then execute the final download command."

"Command received. Constructing protocol model..."

"Excellent."

Allen gave a slight nod, his gaze turning to the real-time situation in Sword Art Online.

In the few minutes he had been speaking with Jarvis, the red light representing the boss of the 93rd floor had already dimmed.

After their initial panic and stagnation, the front-line assault team had ultimately rallied under the whip of survival.

To return to the real world, they had carved a bloody path forward with their very lives.

"Report, Commander. In the past 72 hours, there have been 403 new player deaths in-game. The casualties were concentrated in the boss raids on the 92nd floor, the ’Abyssal Worm,’ and the 93rd floor, the ’Gargoyle Legion.’"

New experimental subjects had just arrived on the operating table.

"Jarvis, execute the second batch of the ’rescue’ plan."

"Target: the 403 newly deceased players. Execute the ’Soul-Body Synchronization Buffer’ protocol and calibrate their clocks."

"Command confirmed."

...

"It’s another scam! They’re just trying to hide them away!"

"My husband is in there! They won’t let me see him!"

On the Spirit-Net, conspiracy theories were running rampant. King William’s approval rating had plummeted, and rumors that the Duke of the North was mustering a private army were now an open secret.

「Three days later.」

It was now the fourteenth day in the real world.

The hospital doors slowly swung open.

Four hundred and three "recovered patients" walked out, meeting the gazes of their families—a mixture of doubt, hope, and fear.

There was no madness, no abnormalities.

They were merely a little pale, their eyes holding a trace of the fog of someone newly awoken. But when they saw the faces of their loved ones in the crowd, that fog was quickly replaced by excitement and joy.

"Daddy!" a seven or eight-year-old girl cried, running toward a middle-aged man.

The man crouched down and hugged his daughter tightly, tears instantly welling in his eyes.

He could clearly feel his daughter’s warmth, smell the sweet scent of her hair. His own arms, his own body... everything felt so real, so perfectly in sync.

After a moment of silence, the area in front of the hospital was completely engulfed by a tidal wave of sobs and cheers.

"They’re back! They’re really back!"

King William received the latest report and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Three days ago, Lord Allen Wesley had sent word that he had found a solution to the "aftereffects" and would "rescue" another four hundred-plus players.

’As expected, there’s nothing a Wizard can’t do,’ he thought. ’The five million-plus other players will surely be able to return safely as well.’

Inside Cybertron, Allen reviewed the report from Jarvis on the second batch of consciousness downloads. For all 403 test subjects, their souls and bodies were perfectly compatible.

"Continue."

Allen’s voice betrayed no emotion. "Release the third batch in three days. One thousand people. Continue to optimize the protocol."

The effectiveness of the [Soul-Body Synchronization Buffer Protocol] had been verified. The "consciousness jet lag" problem was declared solved.

From "upload damage" to "anchor drift," and now to the "return paradox."

He now possessed a closed-loop technology: the ability to extract a soul without loss, run it in the data world, and then return it perfectly.

In theory, he now held the key to switching freely between carbon-based and silicon-based life forms.

He could also send the five million-plus souls back to their bodies at any time.

But he needed more time to observe the long-term stability of souls existing in a purely digital world.

And yet...

Allen’s gaze shifted from the image of the boisterous crowd and turned inward, toward the depths of his Sea of Spirit.

There, the [Humanity Operator] was running stably, like the origin of a coordinate system, marking his "initial state" as the independent individual "Allen Wesley."

An ultimate, unresolved problem from his [Consciousness Upload] project resurfaced.

’In the pursuit of absolute immortality, I will inevitably leave more than one "consciousness backup" of myself in the [Allen Network].’

’Then the question is...’

’After one "Allen" is successfully backed up, between the original "Allen" and the backup "Allen," who is the real one?’

’If the original Allen dies accidentally in an experiment, is the backup that "loads the save file" and returns—inheriting all his memories, personality, and emotions—still "him"?’

’What about a more extreme scenario: what if the original Allen doesn’t die?’

’There’s a backup "me" in the network, and a living "me" in the real world.’

’Both "Allens" possess the exact same memories, and both are convinced that they are the one and only original.’

’So, who gets to define "real"?’

’And who... gets to press the "delete" key?’