63: connect

The discovery of super-gravitons swept through the global scientific community like a tsunami.

The successful experimental data from the Gonggong Hadron Collider was shared without reservation with all top physics research institutions worldwide, in an unprecedented gesture of openness.

Over the next few months, countless particle physicists—whether at CERN in Europe, Fermilab in the United States, KEK in Japan, or the Joint Institute for Nuclear Research in Dubna, Russia—temporarily set aside their existing projects and devoted all their energy to verifying and researching this mysterious new particle.

They repeated the Gonggong experiment over and over, obtaining the same results every time.

They established countless new theoretical models, attempting to perfectly integrate this particle capable of transmitting "anti-gravity" into the existing edifice of physics.

For a time, it seemed as if physics, an ancient discipline that had been silent for nearly half a century, had returned to its golden age overnight.

A variety of imaginative and even somewhat crazy papers sprang up like mushrooms in all the top academic journals.

"The final piece of the supersymmetry puzzle?"

"Another piece of evidence for string theory beyond the eleven dimensions?"

"Negative energy ripples in the quantum gravitational field?"

The entire scientific community was immersed in a fervor and excitement akin to discovering a new continent.

This excitement soon spread from the academic circle to the broader social level.

Media outlets used the most sensational headlines to paint a picture for the public of a bright future brought about by "anti-gravity" technology.

"Say goodbye to traffic jams! Anti-gravity flying cars may become reality within twenty years!"

"Cities in the sky for a new era! We will build our homes in the clouds!"

"A revolution in interstellar travel! The dawn of humanity breaking free from the shackles of gravity has arrived!"

People began to yearn for a new world that no longer needed roads or airports, where they could fly freely just like in science fiction movies.

However, beneath this wave of near-global optimism, only a few people in the core decision-making circles understood.

The distance from discovering a new particle to truly transforming it into mature technology that can be stably utilized...

...is a chasm deeper than the Mariana Trench and more insurmountable than Mount Everest.

"We are like a group of primitive people who have discovered the phenomenon of fire."

At an internal technical assessment meeting for the dome project, Professor Liu Zhaodong poured cold water on those present with a vivid metaphor.

"We know it exists, we know it is powerful, and we even know it is produced by burning wood."

"But we don't know how to 'drill wood to make fire'."

Before him lay a technical report hundreds of pages long, filled with complex calculations and failed cases.

"The lifespan of a super-graviton is extremely short," he explained with a grave expression, pointing to the data in the report. "Within less than one femtosecond (one quadrillionth of a second) after its birth, it decays into other more stable particles. None of our current technological means are capable of effectively capturing and confining it."

"We tried to constrain it using the most powerful magnetic fields, but it does not participate in electromagnetic interactions."

"We tried to imprison it using gravitational fields, but it inherently repels gravity."

"It is like a slippery ghost; you can only see the afterimages it leaves behind, but you can never grasp its physical form."

"More importantly," he paused, stating the core difficulty, "to generate an anti-gravity field on a macroscopic scale sufficient to offset an object's own gravity, we theoretically need to simultaneously excite and maintain quadrillions of super-gravitons within an extremely small space."

"And the energy density required to achieve this far exceeds the limits we can currently reach; it might even require a star-level energy source."

His conclusion was like a cold verdict, causing the hearts of everyone present to sink.

The road from theory to practical application for anti-gravity devices was much further than they had imagined.

Perhaps it would take twenty years, fifty years, a century...

And Earth civilization did not have that much time left.

Lei Wen was one of the few people in this world who remained absolutely calm throughout this "anti-gravity craze."

Because he knew better than anyone that what humanity needed most right now was not flying cars that could only be realized in twenty years.

But a sword that could be used immediately to save their lives.

Over the past two years, like the most dutiful night watchman, he would habitually open the window to the stellar universe every day to observe those ten approaching points of light.

Every observation was like tightening the spring on the countdown in his heart.

And today. April 1, 2033.

Lei Wen opened his computer as usual and skillfully clicked on that special save file.

On the Star Map of the game interface, those ten blue light points representing the Far Star Fleet had arrived at the final stop of their journey.

Proxima Centauri.

They had already left Proxima Centauri and were heading toward the Solar System; they would arrive on Earth in less than a year.

"white flower." His voice was dry and hoarse.

"Present, Father."

"Update the countdown."

"Updating... Current target position confirmed... Cruising speed calibrated..."

A shocking countdown, composed of bright red numbers, appeared before Lei Wen.

【Estimated Time of Arrival: 8 months and 21 days】

Less than a year. That "final exam," which once seemed so far away, was finally right before his eyes.

With deep anxiety and a sense of fated heaviness, Lei Wen returned to his home in Tianqiong City.

He needed to be alone to calm down. He needed to think about how to make every subsequent move in this place where he was born and raised.

Although the voyager had completed its maiden voyage to Mars and finished the first live-fire test of its weapons system at the lunar starport.

It was, after all, only one ship. And it was about to face a super fleet possessing technology that far exceeded the limits of human imagination.

If a conflict broke out, then the chances of winning this war... were zero.

Although the Babel Space Station had begun to take shape, it was currently just an unarmed civilian starport, as fragile as a paper lantern in a real interstellar war.

As for the super-gravitons that humanity had just discovered... that was more like a pie drawn on a distant wall, completely unable to quench the immediate thirst.

Lei Wen threw himself into the soft sofa, feeling an unprecedented sense of exhaustion wash over him.

He was not a god. He was just an ordinary person pushed into this position by fate.

He also felt afraid, felt powerless, and felt lost.

He habitually opened the laptop beside him and clicked on that game icon he was all too familiar with.

In the past few years, whenever he felt immense pressure, he would open this window. To look at the Faleim Civilization he had created with his own hands. To find a trace of illusory power and control from them.

Although he knew this feeling was self-deception.

Game loading. Familiar Star Map, familiar interface. Everything seemed to be the same as usual.

However, just as his gaze subconsciously swept over that 【Diplomacy】 interface whose existence he had long been accustomed to, his pupils suddenly constricted.

He saw a sight that made him almost unable to believe his eyes.

In the center of that empty diplomacy interface, that button that had always sat there as quietly as a dead object, with only the word "Contact" engraved on it...

That button which had been unclickable ever since he discovered this game had become reality...

Was now a glowing blue. It could be clicked.

Lei Wen tremblingly reached out and slowly moved the mouse cursor over that bright blue button.

No prompts popped up. Nor were there any instructions.

It just sat there glowing quietly, like a treasure chest hiding unknown treasures or concealing a monster.

Contact... Contact whom?

Was it asking him to contact the approaching Far Star Fleet? Or...

Why was this button lit up at this time? Was it because the Far Star Fleet was about to arrive? Was it because some unknown condition had been met?

Lei Wen did not know. He only knew that he was now facing a choice. A choice that might completely change everything.

He took a deep breath, forcing his heart, which was pounding from excessive excitement, to calm down. Then, he firmly pressed that blue button.