Flashback

Though Dora had seen cars before, sitting inside the metal box still filled her with boundless wonder. She touched here and peered there, seeming eager to figure out how this contraption actually moved. Watching her make such a fuss over nothing, Ye Shi couldn't resist a quip. "I mean, you've ridden on a starship capable of hyperspace travel. What's there to be curious about with a little trinket like this?" Dora paused for a moment before realizing what a starship was, then said in a small voice, "A starship... is more amazing than this?" Little Koala, strapped into the passenger seat by a seatbelt, let out a helpless sigh. "That has got to be the worst insult the Orion has ever suffered." "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean that—" "I know," Ye Shi sighed, looking at the flustered Dora. "Let's see... looks like we'll have to start patching up your knowledge from basic common sense." Perhaps once they returned to Dawn City, he ought to visit a bookstore and buy a set of elementary school Chinese textbooks. Although psionics was a very convenient tool for communication, a lack of basic common sense remained a serious issue. The convoy of sedans pulled up before the gates of Camp Rowell. This former military base had now been converted into an Old Era museum open to visitors. A stone monument half a person's height stood at the entrance, inscribed with the history of what had once taken place here— A general named Rowell had achieved "unrivaled renown" amidst ice and snow. Later generations held mixed opinions of him. Some believed his intentions were noble, merely executed poorly; furthermore, Red Soil had eventually played some beneficial role by happenstance, far from the utter uselessness claimed by General Rowell's detractors. Yet others considered him a paranoid tyrant, an obstinate gambler who fantasized that he was an omnipotent savior, sacrificing lives that should never have been lost for a plan doomed from the start and extinguishing the last sliver of hope for civilization's legacy. Others still said that had General Rowell not gambled the dwindling resources on that near-impossible future, perhaps the people in this research facility would not have perished, or at least half might have survived. Perhaps they would have become another Shelter 70. Perhaps the people living here would have been like the survivors of the Southern Sea, having no need for a radical gambit like Red Soil, requiring no one to shepherd them forward, spreading their own light and warmth far and wide on their own... Unfortunately, history allowed no "what-ifs"; the shape of an alternate future was left solely to the imagination of posterity. In addition to relics from the Rowell era, the museum also housed many artifacts from the Xilan Dynasty, the Great Moon Dynasty, and other periods. Most of these items had been the private collection of Duke Nihak, the former Xilan Empire governor of Golden Gallon Port. After studying, scanning, and cataloging those relics, the Alliance Institute of Social Sciences returned these spoils in the form of a donation to this museum, which belonged to the people of Golden Gallon Port. Still other items had leaked onto the market during the renovation of the old city districts. The Golden Gallon Port City Hall had repurchased a portion of them at auctions through public appropriations. Beyond those ancient artifacts, the museum also included later accounts of this history. Such as Red Soil written by Mr. Rat, and so forth. Even so, this remained an inglorious chapter of history. Having weathered so much hardship, the residents of Golden Gallon Port had far less interest in this past than before; thus, most of the museum's patrons were visiting tourists. As they walked deeper into Camp Rowell, Yodu, the mayor of Golden Gallon Port, spoke in a slightly apologetic tone. "If only you had notified us of your itinerary a few days in advance, we could have made proper arrangements beforehand." Han Mingyue smiled. "There's no need for such trouble. We're only here to have a look around and will be leaving soon." As they were speaking, a commotion arose outside the museum. Upon hearing that a guest from Alpha Centauri had made an unannounced visit, the entire city's press was stirred into a frenzy, and a swarming throng of reporters came rushing over. Fortunately, Yodu was a shrewd operator who had anticipated the media's reaction. He had contacted the guard bureau ahead of time, dispatching a sizable contingent of officers to set up a cordon outside the museum. Visitors already inside could continue touring, while those who arrived later were forced to wait outside. The surging sea of fervor gave Dora quite a fright; she had never seen so many people before. "Are those... all reporters?" She had already heard the word "reporter" from Ye Shi, even if she did not fully understand what it meant. "Not all of them. There are probably onlookers hoping to catch the excitement too," Ye Shi said with a subtle expression, watching several figures in the crowd bowing as if praying to a deity. The guest from Alpha Centauri was indeed a psionic practitioner, but these fanatic folks had likely misunderstood something. Yet soon he remembered that it had been much the same when he first came ashore. Those people had called them "Iron Men," prostrating and worshiping them just like this. Only later, after greater contact and some education—when they learned that the invulnerable iron hunk was just an exoskeleton anyone could wear—did the title "Iron Men" gradually fall out of fashion. Ye Shi suddenly felt a pang of disappointment. These people should have received some education, yet they seemed unchanged from before. Change only the broth of the same prescription, and they failed to recognize it entirely. These clever people were brilliant to the extreme, yet so foolish in the most fatal of ways. Seeming to notice Ye Shi's expression, Yodu gave an embarrassed smile. "Pardon our shortcomings." Having followed Fang Chang since long ago, he could fairly be counted among the settlement's elite. He understood his responsibilities in all of this, yet felt a profound helplessness before that irresistible tide. All he could do was maintain the status quo. For as long as the Alliance still needed this place. "There's nothing laughable about it, nothing to apologize for," Ye Shi shook his head, sighing. "To be honest... I've even been wondering whether my friends and I actually did a bad thing. Maybe we shouldn't have come here in the first place." Yodu quickly said, "Please don't think that way! Every resident of this settlement is grateful to you all. If you hadn't come, this museum would still be Nihak's ranch..." "Perhaps." Ye Shi glanced up at the watchtower along the perimeter wall, where a centurion or millurion had once hung suspended. He still remembered who had strung the fellow up. Pausing, Ye Shi added, "It's a pity... the man who first took this camp is dead." Yodu froze for a moment, only realizing after a pause whom he meant, and fell silent as well. He had met that man once, and had even tried to dissuade him with gentle words before he headed north. Unable to sway him, Yodu had ultimately accepted his resignation under Fang Chang's instruction. Looking at the scene before him and recalling the man's eventual fate, a wave of melancholy welled up in his heart. Unwilling to wear his sorrow on his face, he looked toward the outsider standing nearby—the guest from Alpha Centauri. Forcing a polite smile, he said, "I hear... you can see the souls of the dead? Could you check for me whether there is a wide-eyed general here?" Dora was slightly taken aback and corrected him in all seriousness. "That is a misunderstanding. Only the living possess souls; no such thing exists for the dead." Yodu was stunned and pressed further. "Then... where do the souls of the dead go?" "They go nowhere. They remain where they once existed, except they no longer belong to themselves, but have become part of others," Dora blinked, speaking with a smile. "To some extent, we are all shaped by our ancestors. In one way or another, we carry their imprints... and we are their continuation." These were things she had discovered through Little Koala. "They go nowhere..." Yodu muttered to himself with lowered head. Looking down at his hands, he suddenly found his emotions threatening to overflow. So he hadn't gone anywhere... He had been here all along, watching them forge ahead. "Don't give up." Han Mingyue patted his shoulder gently and led Dora inside the camp. Excavation of these ruins was essentially complete, leaving only a few points of contention. Right then, Dora suddenly halted, her gaze fixing upon several iron cages in the center of the camp. "Those were used to detain slaves during the Xilan era," Han Mingyue said in a gentle voice, noticing her bewildered expression. Dora nodded, then asked, "The ones kept here before... were mostly Moon Clan?" Surprise crossed Han Mingyue's face. "How could you tell?" Dora did not speak, only casting her gaze toward the iron cages. And as her vision focused on the mottled rust, a man with deep-set eyes looked back at her, a stunned expression spreading across his face. "You can see me." "Are you... the Great Moon King?" While at Port French Fries, Dora had learned about the Moon Clan's history from Ms. Han Mingyue. Though she wasn't entirely certain, the title had sprung into her mind the moment she saw this man. She felt he closely resembled Tunnan. Perhaps they were of the same mold, yet differed in many ways. "The Great Moon King... is that what my descendants call me?" the majestic monarch murmured, then looked at Dora and asked urgently, "Tell me, are my people well?" Recalling the wonderful days in Port French Fries, Dora smiled shyly. "They... are all doing well. At least, the ones I've met are doing well." "That is good..." As if liberated, he let out a long breath of relief, a gratified smile gracing his face. "Thank you. My heart feels far lighter." Watching the monarch who looked as if a heavy burden had been lifted, Dora asked in confusion, "Did you do something bad?" The Great Moon King was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "I do not know, but... they certainly suffered a great deal because of me. I heard them kneeling here, calling my name, praying to me whenever night fell. "Though... I have heard it far less lately. I had thought they were all dead. "It is enough that they live." He smiled in comfort, his translucent shadow gradually fading as though he had never existed. No one heard their silent exchange. Dora nodded slightly in acknowledgment, watching the faint phantom dissolve into the wind. Yet right then, another shadow emerged from behind the mottled rust. This man's demeanor was completely different from the Great Moon King's, resembling somewhat the wide-eyed "officer" Mayor Yodu had mentioned. However— Through psionics, Dora could clearly sense that he was not the person Mayor Yodu had spoken of. Furthermore, they were two entirely different kinds of men. "Those bastards... I made the damn Red Soil for them to save lives, not to use as bargaining chips for territorial turf! Did not a single one think it was idiotic? Playing cavemen fighting tribal wars in a zoo! "And another thing—the nuclear winter is already over! Why are they still eating this crap as food?! Dammit! They even brought back slavery... talk about regressing backwards!" Dora froze, unable to comprehend his incessant rambling. Luckily, there was someone beside her who knew a thing or two about psionics. Perhaps because both bore the imprint of the Human Alliance, Ye Shi "saw" the man this time as well, right alongside Dora. Without a doubt. This had to be Rowell. Looking at the muttering figure, Ye Shi couldn't hold back a quip. "Is it possible that your Red Soil only really took off after the nuclear winter ended?" He maliciously speculated that pleasant springtime weather alone likely wasn't enough. The expansion of Red Soil might well have been inextricably linked to the rivers of blood shed during the era of tribal warfare. Only when people pierced humanity's bottom line over and over again could Red Soil find the soil truly suited for its growth. Namely, when only a single thought remained in everyone's heart— Survive. Beyond that, anything and everything could be discarded. That counter-question rendered Rowell utterly speechless. His eyes wide, he glared at the audacious junior before him, his nose practically crooked with rage. "Who the fuck could have foreseen that?! What was my situation back then? Did I have any other choice?! One hundred million people! My troops weren't enough to fill the gaps between their teeth! If I couldn't feed them, do you know what would happen?! Cannibalism! I'd go down in the damn history books!" At that point, General Rowell fell silent once more. Letting out a despondent sigh, he slumped to the ground. "Forget it... what was meant to happen happened anyway. I'm already in the history books. I know you want to mock me, kid. Go ahead and laugh all you want." As he spoke, words suddenly failed him. Pressing a hand against his forehead, he murmured in agony, "I admit it, I was at fault too—at least half of it was on me... I let down the soldiers who believed in me. Some things can be overcome with willpower, and some simply cannot. I let down those scholars. They told me it couldn't be done, that even at the peak of the Human Alliance's prosperity, a massive research institution would have been needed to complete such a project. But I thought that because they were scholars of the Human Alliance, they could find a way if we just pushed hard enough..." "I'm not in a position to judge, but in a world made of matter, there are indeed too many things that spirit cannot achieve," Ye Shi sighed. "For instance, black can't become white, square can't become round. Even psionics can't do that." Rowell suddenly raised his head, a flicker of hope rekindling in his eyes. "Are they... doing well?" Ye Shi remained silent for a moment before countering, "Can't you see for yourself?" Rowell shook his head, turning his gaze toward the camp's perimeter walls, his eyes dazed. "I can't see outside. I don't know which bastard started it... some idiot calling himself the Moon King, I think. He was terrified that the soil-eaters would rebel against him, so he built a wall here. Though his fears were unfounded—no one dared oppose him while he lived—those who came after imitated him, building the camp walls higher and higher." His Adam's apple bobbed as he continued, "Besides... my sensation of them is growing fainter and fainter. Perhaps it's simply been too long. I'm not worthy of their remembrance anyway. Maybe before long... I'll vanish from this land along with my moment of folly." Ye Shi gave a noncommittal shrug. Though the man did not plead for anyone's forgiveness, at least he acknowledged his moment of folly. Just then, as if realizing something, Dora spoke up. "You... might not actually be here." Rowell froze, glanced down at his feet, and looked around him, a bizarre expression on his face. "I'm not here? Then... where am I?" Ye Shi was completely baffled by Dora's words as well. Though his attainments in psionics were admittedly inferior to this "temple maid," a fully formed resonance field couldn't possibly be fake, could it? This was like talking gibberish right to a ghost's face... Yet Dora thought otherwise. Looking at the phantom invisible to ordinary eyes, she continued with silent, resolute words. "The true you resides in every single person here... They are all you, or rather, your continuation. "And what remains here is merely you from a long, long time ago... the you who lived two hundred years ago. "The you who has not yet died." "All me..." Rowell stood frozen for a long time, a hint of terror creeping onto his face for reasons unknown. "No..." "Such a thing..." Dora nodded, gazing earnestly at him even if he might not wish to hear more. "You have not been forgotten—neither your Red Soil nor your moment of folly... "Your soul is regarded by everyone here as... something as sacred as the Tree of Ein Sof. They sing of your deeds and the miracles you bestowed, passing them down from generation to generation as an exemplar." "No! Stop talking! Shut up—!" He screamed hysterically, burying his face in his hands, before dissolving into the wind as if weeping bitterly. Or perhaps— He had returned to the timeline where he originally belonged. His mind previously tangled in confusion, Ye Shi suddenly felt a flash of enlightenment. So that was it. What he had seen just now was not the Rowell who had died centuries ago, but the tyrant who had knelt on the execution ground two hundred years ago, roaring hysterically. In his final moments, his soul had transcended time, catching a glimpse of what this land would look like two centuries later just before his life ended. That, of course, was not true time travel. Much like the crew of the Orion. It was merely that standing on different points in time, through a profound resonance of their spirits, both sides had independently arrived at a deduction—or association. Psionics was merely one medium that triggered resonance, not the bridge connecting the minds itself. "...So this is a resonance field." Ye Shi suddenly realized that his understanding of psionics and resonance fields had deepened by another notch. And the distance between the Void and himself had drawn closer than ever before... Dora's shoulders swayed slightly as if struck by some shock, reeling backward in a bout of dizziness. Han Mingyue, standing beside her, quickly caught her by the shoulder and asked with deep concern, "Are you alright?" Dora slowly opened her eyes and shook her head. "I'm fine." Detecting something unusual in her eyes, Han Mingyue's expression turned eager as she looked into Dora's eyes and pressed on, "What happened just now? You saw Rowell himself... didn't you?" With a complex expression, Dora nodded, yet a trace of confusion—or bewilderment—lingered in her eyes. Seeing her nod, Han Mingyue hurriedly pressed, "What did he say?" "He... cried. And he cried so sorrowfully. I wanted to comfort him, but he pushed me away." Dora shook her head, pausing before continuing somewhat forlornly, "I told him that everyone here is his continuation... He should have been happy, but for some reason, he suddenly broke down in tears." Nearly every soul she had encountered before had felt gratified upon learning that they lived on in another form. Including Little Koala's father. Including the "Great Moon King." Yet General Rowell was different. Upon learning that every single person here was his continuation, his agitated emotion had even surpassed his remorse over Red Soil itself. Watching Dora speak as if to herself, not only was Professor Han Mingyue stunned, but everyone present—including Professor Sun Zewen and Mayor Yodu—was struck dumb. Yet that did not last long; Professor Han Mingyue quickly recovered her composure and said, "I think I understand... You saw him as he was two hundred years ago, didn't you?" Dora gave a gentle nod. "Yes." Han Mingyue smiled warmly from the heart. "Thank you. I think I understand now." Dora looked at her in surprise, delight appearing on her face as she asked timidly, "Did I help?" Han Mingyue nodded solemnly, turning her gaze toward the camp before them. "The final missing piece of our puzzle was, in fact, General Rowell's own testimony. "After his subordinates successfully rebelled, they destroyed virtually all the relics he left behind, whether notes or personal belongings. As a result, General Rowell's own views were reduced to mere fragments; the remaining clues were mostly secondhand assessments from others, or clumsy forgeries of his notes by later generations. "Whether they acted to preserve a final shred of dignity for their superior or to uphold their own legitimacy, their self-righteous tampering severely impeded our excavation of the ruins and our ability to reconstruct the complete picture of history. "What's more, their clever-clever actions, much like Rowell's own, inspired—or rather influenced—generation after generation of self-righteous successors, wreaking an incalculable impact far worse than Red Soil." At this point, a gratified smile appeared on her face, as though a monumental endeavor had finally had its very last brick set in place. "...Thanks to your help. "This blank space in history has finally been filled."