Chapter 153 - 104: Degaussing
Wang Dayong wasn’t the type to sit still.
He went out to the balcony, tossed his clothes into a washbasin, and added some laundry powder and water.
The room felt a little stuffy, so Wang Dayong threw open the wooden door to Room 215, letting the cross-breeze from the hallway air the place out.
Chen Zhuo finished his steamed bun and cleared the table.
He grabbed his cup and went to the bathroom to rinse his mouth.
Just as he stepped out, he heard Wang Dayong’s booming voice echoing down the hall.
"Dude, that’s some serious gear you’ve got there. You actually lugged all this stuff over on the first day of school?"
Chen Zhuo followed the sound out of his room.
The door to the room next door, 216, was wide open.
There were no parents inside, nor were there the usual big bags and bundles of bedding.
Just a boy who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen.
The boy had slightly long hair, with bangs that fell into his eyes. He wore an oversized white T-shirt, loose-fitting jeans, and a pair of skate shoes.
He was squatting on the floor, drenched in sweat, tearing into several enormous cardboard boxes.
He had ripped the packing tape off the boxes in a tangled mess, and bits of white styrofoam littered the floor.
Shaking the water from his hands, Wang Dayong stood at the doorway of 216, craning his neck to peek inside.
Chen Zhuo walked over and took a look inside.
The boy had already unpacked a few items and set them on the desk to the left.
A custom-built desktop PC.
A massive, clunky, off-white CRT monitor took up more than half the desk. Beside it sat an equally hefty white computer tower.
Back in those days, many college students had barely even touched a keyboard. A rig like this was outrageously expensive and weighed a ton. It was rare for someone to haul an entire setup like this into their dorm room, all by themselves, on the first day of school.
The boy paid no attention to Wang Dayong at the door.
A lollipop stick jutted from his mouth, his brow furrowed in concentration.
He was bent over, plugging a blue VGA cable into the graphics card port on the back of the tower. He then tightened the two thumbscrews on either side.
Next, he plugged in the keyboard and mouse and flipped the switch on the power strip.
The boy let out a breath and pressed the round power button on the front of the tower.
WHIRRR—
The power supply fan inside the case whirred to life, emitting a low hum.
A moment later, the motherboard emitted a single, crisp beep.
The massive CRT monitor on the desk flickered and then sprang to life.
The classic Windows 98 startup screen appeared in the center.
Just as the boy’s expression started to relax, it suddenly froze.
Wang Dayong, who was still standing in the doorway, let out a confused "Huh?"
The startup screen had appeared, but the colors in the upper-right and lower-left corners of the monitor were completely off.
What should have been a solid background was now a large, distorted blotch of purplish-green, like watercolor bleeding across the screen.
It was an ugly, indistinct color, incredibly jarring to the eye.
The boy stared, stunned, for a couple of seconds.
He slapped his thigh and swore in frustration.
"Fuck."
He pulled the lollipop from his mouth, holding it between his fingers.
"Dammit, it’s toast. The crappy shipping company must have busted the picture tube in transit. If it’s leaking fluid, this monitor is completely shot."
The boy ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his face grim as he stared at the two ugly splotches on the screen.
Wang Dayong watched from the doorway.
"Dude, that’s a huge piece of equipment. Didn’t you tell them to pack it more carefully when you shipped it?"
The boy didn’t answer. He plopped down in his chair and sulked at the screen.
"It’s not broken."
A calm voice sounded from the doorway.
The boy turned his head.
Chen Zhuo was standing next to Wang Dayong.
He looked at the boy, his calm gaze sweeping across the desk.
Under the boy’s desk, next to the PC tower, were two black wooden speakers, one of which was a bulky subwoofer.
"When you were packing, did you put that subwoofer in the same box as the monitor?" Chen Zhuo asked.
The boy paused for a moment.
He looked at Chen Zhuo and nodded instinctively.
"Yeah, to save space, I packed the subwoofer right next to the monitor. Why?"
Chen Zhuo gave a faint smile.
"It’s not broken, and it’s not leaking fluid. The magnet in your subwoofer messed with it. The screen’s been magnetized."
Chen Zhuo jutted his chin toward the physical buttons just below the monitor’s screen.
"Press the menu button on the monitor. Look for an icon that looks like an upside-down horseshoe with a line through it."
The boy looked at Chen Zhuo suspiciously.
Still, he turned back and pressed the menu button.
A blue settings menu popped up on the screen.
He used the arrow keys to navigate and quickly found the upside-down horseshoe icon in a corner of the second tab.
"Found it. Now what?" the boy asked.
"Select it and hit OK," Chen Zhuo said.
The boy pressed the OK button.
BZZT.
THUMP!
A sound like a small explosion—an incredibly deep and loud pop—erupted from inside the monitor.
The desk even vibrated slightly.
The image on the screen warped violently, contracting for an instant before snapping back into place.
By the time the image stabilized again...
The two large, purplish-green splotches in the corners were gone.
The screen’s colors were perfect again. The blue sky and white clouds of the Windows desktop were crisp and clear.
The boy’s eyes widened as he stared at the now-normal screen.
He let out a long sigh of relief. Turning around, he casually tossed the lollipop onto the desk.
He stood up, dusted off his hands, and looked at Chen Zhuo, giving a slight nod.
"Thanks, man."
The boy pointed to himself.
"I’m Chu Ge."
Chen Zhuo nodded.
"Chen Zhuo."
Wang Dayong, who was standing beside them, had been watching in stunned silence.
He liked to tinker, but he’d never dealt with anything like this before.
Once the two had introduced themselves, Wang Dayong quickly pointed to himself and then to Chen Zhuo.
"Wang Dayong! We’re in 215, right next door. And Chu Ge, I gotta say, that’s a nice rig you’ve got."
Chu Ge pulled his chair over, plopped down, and expertly grabbed the mouse.
"Just something I threw together. Can’t sleep without it, so I had to bring it along."
He glanced at Chen Zhuo and Wang Dayong in the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips.
"If you guys ever get a virus or need to reinstall your OS, just give me a shout."
Wang Dayong grinned.
"Sounds good. You finish setting up. Feel free to drop by whenever."
Wang Dayong waved and left Room 216 with Chen Zhuo.
The hallway was getting more and more crowded.
A cacophony of sounds filled the air—the rumble of rolling suitcases, people searching for their rooms, and loud greetings being called out.
Chen Zhuo walked along the terrazzo floor, listening to the crisp clicks of a mouse from Room 216 and the occasional thud of footsteps from the floor above.
Sunlight streamed through the window at the end of the hall, casting an angled beam across the wall.
Amidst the clamor, Chen Zhuo’s college life had officially begun.