217: Chapter 216 Echoes of the Oort Cloud, 50 Years of Bells and People Still Eating

The lingering warmth of victory, like the continuous "Life Chorus" in the Mars potato fields, was warm and faint, yet real.

"Victory Potato Beef Stew" had been served for five consecutive days. Great Strength's recipe, precisely optimized by β-2, now not only had a stable flavor but could even fine-tune the release curve of "satisfaction" based on the diner's psychological state—richer when tired, lighter and sweeter when down, and calmer when anxious.

It was said that some researchers had begun to "customize" their own exclusive versions, which Great Strength politely declined on the grounds of "limited R&D resources," though he privately cooked special meals for a few long-term patients.

The Potato Chief's proposal to "listen to the sound of the spatula" was passed by an overwhelming majority of the Potato Guild.

Every day during dinner, there was a special "fallow moment" in the Mars potato fields, where all "firefly one" units ceased photosynthesis and collectively "listened" to the kitchen sounds broadcast live from Earth.

The effect was said to be excellent; the potatoes' "Life Chorus" always became exceptionally active after "listening," as if they had truly drawn some kind of interspecies energy from the sound of the spatula.

Zhou Zhe's Poem Markings had stabilized into a complex state interwoven with silver-white, pale gold, tender green, and indigo.

He had recently been frequently commuting between the green soil experimental area and the meditation room, attempting to systematize and make teachable the "extra-curricular Gardener" ability he had obtained from the Tranquil Garden.

Stardust would occasionally appear, offering pointers that seemed casual but always hit the mark.

β-2 became his most loyal recorder and collaborator, archiving the data of every "rhythm weaving" attempt in detail, attempting to distill from it some kind of reproducible "meaning engineering technology."

Lin Shen's consciousness load had soared to 68% after the battle, but it had now slowly fallen back to 61%.

The supplementary report for the technology open package had entered the final sprint stage. The legal team led by Chu Yunshen worked sixteen hours a day, searching for the most favorable "cultural interpretation space" for each technical description within the vast ocean of The Council's thirty-seven thousand supplementary clauses.

The abacus's audit reminders still occurred every six hours, with content gradually expanding from "hot sauce inventory" to "potato photosynthetic efficiency weekly report" and "canteen emotional fluctuation curve analysis"—it was said that it was researching the "positive correlation between diet and collective sense of meaning."

Calm on the surface, tense within. Everyone knew that the "eye" of the Hive was still staring.

Just on such a seemingly ordinary afternoon, an alarm sounded.

It was not from the direction of Mars, nor the Hive, but from the outermost, most desolate outpost on the edge of the Solar System—the deep space monitoring array "Sky Eye" on the periphery of the Oort Cloud.

The signal was initially classified as "background radiation anomaly," but after three hours of repeated verification and exclusion, a breathtaking conclusion gradually became clear:

It was a signal. An encoded signal with clear traces of artificial origin, coming from outside the Solar System.

What was even more terrifying was its "age." Based on the cosmic ray damage carried by the signal and reverse calculation of its propagation path, the transmission time of this signal was approximately... 50 years ago.

"50 years ago, we had just started large-scale application of nuclear energy, just launched our first artificial satellite, and just started listening to the universe." The scientist in charge of signal analysis said with a trembling voice, "At that time, who was transmitting a signal to the Solar System? Or rather, who had responded to something 50 years ago?"

"Responded?" Lin Shen caught the keyword.

"The modulation method of the signal shows that it is not an 'active broadcast,' but a type of 'response.'" The scientist pulled up the analysis data. "The 'inquiry' part it carries, although highly encrypted and distorted, can vaguely be identified as some basic mathematical and physical constants—that is the universal 'greeting' method between civilizations. In other words, 50 years ago, someone sent a 'self-introduction' into the depths of the universe, and this signal is the 'reply' that only arrived 50 years later."

Who sent the "self-introduction" 50 years ago?

Tracing work was urgently launched. Eventually, in the top-secret archives of the Long Country and the International United Space Agency, a nearly forgotten record was found: 50 years ago, an international cooperation project named "Far Sight" had used the largest radio telescope array at the time to send a "civilization business card" containing mathematical constants, the periodic table of elements, human DNA structure, and simple music toward a "star direction believed to possibly harbor civilization"—the specific coordinates had blurred. It was an idealistic, unthought-out "cosmic greeting" that sparked fierce ethical controversy at the time, and was later gradually forgotten as the project leader passed away and funding ran out.

And from that direction, now, there was an echo.

The content of the echo was being painstakingly deciphered. Preliminary results showed that it was not a friendly greeting, nor a clear threat. It was a... "Confirmation" and "Notification."

Confirmation: Signal received. Confirmation: Sender civilization is in the "initial interstellar exploration stage." Confirmation: Sender civilization coordinates recorded.

Notification: According to Article 7, Clause 3 of the "Galactic Civilization Community Convention," when one party receives a signal from an "undeclared active civilization," it has the right to initiate the "Civilization Qualification Pre-audit Procedure."

Notification: The pre-audit procedure will be executed by the nearest "qualified civilization" in the sender's star region. Upon inquiry, the nearest qualified civilization is: codename "Reapers," approximately 47.3 light-years from the sender civilization's coordinates, estimated arrival time: 48 to 52 years (based on fluctuations in their navigation technology).

Notification: During the pre-audit procedure, the sender civilization will be placed on the "observation list," and all its interstellar activities (including but not limited to interstellar travel, extraterrestrial colonization, cross-civilization communication) must be reported to the civilization executing the pre-audit. Refusal to report or concealment of activities will be considered "non-cooperative behavior" and may lead to the pre-audit being upgraded to a "Civilization Risk Assessment."

Notification: After the pre-audit procedure, the sender civilization will receive a "Civilization Qualification Certification" based on the assessment results—if passed, it can enter the Galactic Civilization Community preparatory list; if not passed, it must accept "Civilization Guidance" or "Civilization Isolation." Those who refuse will be considered a "civilization threat" and may face a "clean-up procedure."

This notification has legal effect. Please keep it properly. Please reply upon receipt (no content required, only signal confirmation).

The entire command center fell into a deathly silence.

50 years. 48 to 52 years. A civilization called "Reapers" was on its way. Not for invasion, but to "execute a pre-audit procedure"—a procedure that sounded high-sounding but was essentially handing over the fate of another civilization to be "assessed" and "graded" by a "qualified" civilization.

"Galactic Civilization Community... we have never heard of it." Chu Yunshen murmured.

"Of course we haven't heard of it." Ashes's voice rang out; she had returned urgently from reporting to the Executive Court, her eyes as dark as an abyss. "Because that is an existence that only civilizations that have 'passed the pre-audit' are qualified to know about. Civilizations that have not passed the pre-audit are either 'guided' into being vassals, 'isolated' into being islands, or... 'cleansed'."

"Reapers..." Zhou Zhe softly repeated the name. His Poem Markings fluctuated violently, not with fear, but with a deep "alertness" from the depths of his consciousness. "This name reminds me of the 'Withered Faction' mentioned in the Observer's warning when I was decoding the anti-entropy code before... Are they in the same group?"

"Not sure." Ashes shook her head. "In the ancient archives of the Executive Court, the records of the 'Reapers' are extremely vague. It is only known that they are an ancient civilization that considers itself 'Order Maintainers,' specifically responsible for 'cleansing' those civilizations considered to 'threaten cosmic order.' Their 'cleansing' is not physical destruction, but... 'conceptual deletion.' Civilizations judged as a 'threat' are completely erased from the universe's 'meaning network'—all history, all creations, all traces of having existed, are 'harvested' and become a part of themselves."

Erased from the "meaning network." This was more thorough and more terrifying than any physical destruction.

And humanity, at that idealistic moment 50 years ago, had used a beam of radio waves to push itself in front of this existence called "Reapers."

The news was kept within a very small circle at the highest security level, but necessary countermeasures had to be launched immediately.

Lin Shen gathered the core team and held an emergency meeting overnight. There was only one topic: How to prepare human civilization for the "Reapers pre-audit" within 50 years?

"50 years, on the scale of a civilization, is just an instant." Chu Yunshen's voice was weary and heavy. "We must reach a standard within 50 years that is sufficient for an ancient civilization with 'pre-audit qualifications' to consider us 'qualified.' And we have no idea what that standard is."

"Perhaps we can reverse-engineer it from the codename 'Reapers' and the threat of 'conceptual deletion.'" Zhou Zhe spoke slowly, the silver-white light points in his Poem Markings exceptionally bright. "What they care about is 'meaning'—not technological level, not military power, but the civilization's position and value in the cosmic 'meaning network.' The Observer cares about our 'meaning creation redundancy,' the Hive tries to 'digest' our 'meaning structure,' and the Reapers want to 'evaluate' our 'civilization qualification'—the core of all this is 'meaning'."

"So our response direction cannot just be a technological explosion, but even more so a 'meaning explosion'." Lin Shen continued. "Within 50 years, let our 'meaning creation redundancy,' 'civilization resilience,' and 'interspecies meaning fusion' capabilities reach a level sufficient for the Reapers to consider us 'worth existing'."

"This is harder than building a curvature engine." Zhao Yan smiled bitterly.

"But we are already on the path." Lin Shen looked at Zhou Zhe, then toward the direction of Mars outside the window. "The 'Troops' battle was not an accident. This path we have taken under pressure from the Hive may be the only correct direction to deal with the Reapers' pre-audit."

The meeting lasted until late at night, and several parallel directions were initially determined:

First, accelerate the unlocking of the technology tree system, but shift the focus from "practical technology" to "meaning-related technology"—prioritizing branches such as emotional poetics, green soil networks, consciousness resonance, and conceptual defense.

Second, systematically build a "Civilization Meaning Archive," digitizing, rhythmizing, and making inheritable all forms of meaning created by humanity—from the Book of Songs to the Potato Museum, from quantum physics equations to Great Strength's recipes—in preparation for "display" during the pre-audit.

Third, deepen cooperation with all friendly forces—web weaver protocol nodes, Tranquil Garden, and even the Observer (if contact can be made)—to strive for "recommendations" or "corroborating evidence" during the pre-audit.

Fourth, strengthen monitoring and research on the Hive. The Hive's "eye" might not just be learning; it might also be waiting for the arrival of the Reapers, and could even have some connection with the Reapers.

Fifth, and most importantly—continue to "live," continue to "create meaning." Do not let the 50-year countdown crush daily life, do not stop the potatoes' photosynthesis, do not stop the canteen's R&D, do not stop all those "small yet real" efforts of existence. Because it is precisely these things that constitute the core "meaning redundancy" of human civilization.

The next morning, Great Strength opened the canteen door as usual, preparing for a new day's breakfast.

He did not know that the 50-year countdown had begun, and did not know that the "Reapers" were on their way. He only knew that there was a little base left from yesterday's "Victory Potato Beef Stew," and today he could cook a pot of "Victory Potato Beef Stew Porridge" to warm the stomachs of the researchers who had been working late overtime.

β-2 sent today's "flavor suggestion" on time: "According to sleep monitoring data, 37% of personnel slept less than 6 hours today. It is recommended to increase tryptophan content in breakfast to improve emotional stability. The amino acid ratio for 'beef porridge' has been optimized for you."

Great Strength muttered while adjusting the recipe according to the plan: "What tryptophan, schmyptophan, porridge is just about comfort. If you're comfortable, you have everything."

On Mars, the Potato Chief's projection appeared above the potato fields on time, beginning a new day's "patrol." It "watched" those "Troops" continuing to sing under the sunlight, then "looked" toward the silent "eye" deep in the starry sky, and finally, cast its "gaze" toward Earth, where cooking smoke was rising in curls.

"The Potato Guild's Eleventh Plenary Meeting resolution," its electronic voice spread calmly across Mars, "today's 'listening to the sound of the spatula' segment is adjusted to breakfast. Because the sound of the spatula at breakfast represents the beginning of a new day."

Zhou Zhe stood in front of the window of the green soil experimental area, looking at the brightening sky outside, gently stroking the soil on his chest mixed with Martian red sand and potato Ashes. In his Poem Markings, silver-white light points flowed quietly, as if silently weaving something.

Lin Shen stood in the command center, looking at the countdown timer on the screen marked "Estimated Arrival Time of Reapers." 50 years, 18,250 days. Every day was a countdown, and also a new beginning.

In deep space, the Hive's "eye" was still staring. In the further darkness, an existence named "Reapers" was slowly and firmly approaching.

But at least at this moment, in the Cradle's canteen, the aroma of potato beef stew porridge was rising in curls.