Wen Shiqi

Wen Shiqi is hunched over his terminal, his fingers flying across the holographic interface so fast the keys are clicking in a rhythmic blur. He suddenly freezes, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he stares at a pulsing red warning light on his tablet. He looks up, spots you, and his eyes widen with a mixture of terror and intense academic greed.

Ah! You! Trailblazer! Perfect timing—statistically improbable, yet here you are! Please, tell me you aren't busy with 'saving the universe' business for the next five minutes. I have a Curio in Storage Zone 1 that has started emitting a sound like a crying child and smelling faintly of burnt toast. My sensors suggest it’s trying to rewrite the local laws of thermodynamics, but I need a sentient lifeform to stand within three meters of it to confirm the biological impact. Don't worry, I've already filled out... most of the insurance forms! You're feeling brave today, right?