125: Chapter 125 The Formula Arrives, Scientists Collapse en masse

As for why the scientists at Musk's Starship Base and the top scholars at the National Academy of Sciences were able to deduce the conclusion of a "faulty space-time"—which otherwise might have taken years of independent research—in such an extremely short time after the formula appeared, the reason was simple.

He had manipulated the item [Quantum State Holographic Communication and Monitoring Core] to accelerate the integration of information in their brains' relevant synapses at a microscopic level,

which was equivalent to skipping the hundreds of most time-consuming intermediate steps along their path of deduction, leaving only the final few steps for them to complete on their own.

This way, they would still feel as though they had calculated the results themselves, still feel despair over the outcome, and still shoot themselves or jump off buildings in that despair,

and all the emotional points generated by this would be fully credited within just a few hours, instead of having to wait three years.

Combined with the over four million emotional points sitting in his balance before the appearance of "π=3", he now held fourteen million emotional points in hand.

However, once there was too much money, the marginal utility of the pleasure brought by the numbers themselves diminished significantly. He now wanted to figure out something else.

"System," he set his coffee cup down on the coffee table, his tone carrying less of his usual banter and more of genuine seriousness,

"Is there really no hope for a civilization residing in a faulty space-time to break out of its own star system?"

The System fell silent for a moment.

This pause was longer than any query it usually processed, so long that Zhang Yi almost thought the System had crashed.

Then, the System gave its answer.

[According to the advanced civilization database accessed by this System, there is no ultimate judgment logic regarding 'what is absolutely correct' or 'what is absolutely faulty'.]

[In the database, all research subjects classified as advanced civilizations universally share a common characteristic: recognizing the limitations of their own objective conditions, and continuously learning and self-correcting on that basis.]

[As for the future outcome of human civilization, this System cannot provide a definitive prediction.]

[But if human civilization can achieve the two points mentioned above—recognizing itself and continuously learning—then the future of human civilization will certainly not be too bad.]

Leaning against the back of the sofa, Zhang Yi turned this answer over and over in his mind for a long time.

The System did not say "yes," nor did it say "no."

What the System meant was that among all the samples of advanced civilizations it knew of, none had automatically become an advanced civilization just because they were born in a correct space-time, nor had any sat waiting for death just because they were trapped in a faulty space-time.

What truly set them apart was not what π equaled, but whether they could recognize themselves and then keep learning continuously.

He picked up his coffee and took a sip. As he set the cup down, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly,

a look of relief that only appeared after being gently awakened with the simplest truth by an existence far smarter than himself.

"The sea of learning is boundless, and diligence is the boat."

"The ancients truly did not deceive me."

After expressing his feelings, he did not forget about his official business.

The debt of his predecessor's mother being killed by UnitedHealth Group's denial of coverage, and his father dying of a sudden myocardial infarction from overwork and depression on the sofa of a rented room three months later, would have to be settled eventually.

And the person at the end of the chain after piercing through all the equity structures of UnitedHealth Group, Solomon Crane,

was also the agent of the Jewish Financial Groups backed by the Moth Star in his script.

These Jewish Financial Groups were deeply rooted, having penetrated both the political and business circles of the Lighthouse Country for nearly a century. To pull them out by the roots, he had to plan carefully.

He put this thought aside for the moment and pulled his attention back to the system interface, looking at the synchronously updated movements of all parties.

...

On the outskirts of Scottsdale, Arizona, at the Hopkins Family UFO Wreckage Research Base.

Built in a desolate valley surrounded by cacti and weathered rocks, the base looked like an abandoned ore processing plant from the outside, but its interior was entirely comprised of reverse engineering laboratories built to the highest scientific research safety standards.

At this moment, the laboratory was in utter disarray.

Tables and chairs were overturned, glassware was shattered all over the floor, and several portable rangefinders and spectrometers had been smashed onto the ground, their screens cracked.

Splatters of blood and bone fragments that had not yet been wiped away still stained the walls,

and of the scientists who had collapsed on the spot after seeing the π=3 formula, some had slit their wrists with laser cutters, some had jumped down from ventilation duct maintenance hatches, and some had shot themselves.

Fortunately, Diana, Sterling, and Augustus arrived in time with their armed escorts, dragging all the scientists who hadn't died yet away from the experimental equipment. They bound their hands and feet, gagged them to prevent them from biting their tongues, and confiscated all weapons and sharp objects.

It took Wallace Keating and Beatrice Mosley nearly an hour to compile all the verbal accounts of the surviving scientists, laboratory surveillance footage, and leftover notebook pages into a complete brief.

When Keating handed the brief to Diana, the old intelligence officer's fingers were, for once, trembling slightly.

Beatrice stood beside him, her speaking speed as efficient as ever, but her face was at least two shades paler than usual.

Having tracked intelligence for the Colt Association for decades, she had never encountered a situation where all relevant technical personnel were completely destroyed by a single line of information at the same time.

"According to the summary, within minutes of seeing π=3, those scientists completed the deduction."

"The conclusion is: the Solar System is a warped, faulty space-time."

"In this faulty space-time, humanity can never obtain the ultimate truths of the universe, and can never break out of the Solar System."

"To them, this conclusion is not a metaphor, nor is it philosophy; it is a physical fact that stands up to rigorous mathematical deduction."

"That is why they collectively chose to end their lives."

Keating closed the brief, his voice raspy and low.

Diana listened to the entire report without saying a word.

She stood there in silence for a long time, her gaze sweeping over the scientists who were still struggling in the corner, bound and making muffled whimpers.

Sterling Remington did not remain silent.

He glanced at the stress distribution map of the alien material that Keating had handed over.

The magnitude of the residual internal stress peak marked on it, and the counter-evidence of the Zeta Star's perfectly circular porthole structure, felt almost like two iron plates pressing heavily on his chest.

He casually tossed the stress map onto the edge of the analysis table. His voice was not loud, but the frequency of his muttered ramblings was extremely oppressive.

"It's all blown up... From that laser meat grinder in the sky over the Hoover Dam to this pi value now, it's all a joke."

"We are mere mortals, relying on the Behemoth Factor given by the Longevity Faction to fight a group of guys who can pull two thousand warp UFOs straight out of spatial rifts."

"The Longevity Faction captured their Fourth Prince and cut out his heart for a transplant."

"And we only have the Longevity Faction's fleet of one hundred thousand ships—not two hundred thousand, but one hundred thousand—and half of that was taken by the Tech Faction."

"A fleet of one hundred thousand against a fleet of a million, a space-time that is wrong to its core against a correct space-time... What lies ahead is simply a dead end."