The "Champion" Biomass Anti-Radiation Project was quickly launched, taking barely a week from review to official establishment.
Even before the project had received formal approval, You'er had already followed his senior, Zhao Feiyu, to Jinhe City to report to the research institute.
Just as Chu Guang had anticipated, the facility they arrived at was none other than the Champion Biopharmaceutical Research Institute in Jinhe City.
In other words, the exact coordinates the Academy had given him.
At this time, You'er was still a somewhat awkward young man, not particularly good at socializing, with his entire mind devoted solely to research.
Although the average working time in the Human Alliance era was only one hour a day, that didn't mean every position was like that. Significant differences existed across various industries.
Scientific research positions, for example.
Spending twenty-four hours a day buried in the laboratory was commonplace.
Yet You'er never found it dull, nor did he feel any anxiety about "everyone else is on vacation while I'm stuck working." After all, in this era, work was no longer a necessity for survival, but a means of self-fulfillment.
Repetitive and tedious tasks had long since been handed over to machines. Even if one never worked a day in their life, they could live with an abundant, affluent standard of living... something people of classical eras could hardly imagine, or dared only dream of in movies and television.
Only rare occurrences were called miracles.
And precisely for this reason, this boundless, wonderful era was crowned the Era of Prosperity, distinguishing it from the old ages of the past.
For You'er, entering a world-renowned enterprise straight out of school and working on groundbreaking research was already an exciting and deeply meaningful endeavor.
Thus, he practically lived in the lab, dedicating every waking hour to his research.
Yet with such passion, he was merely one member of an enormous research team.
And one of the most modest, unremarkable ones at that.
Naturally, though You'er was thoroughly enjoying himself, Chu Guang, standing beside him as an onlooker, was yawning incessantly.
Because this guy had never stepped outside the institute even once since arriving in Jinhe City, Chu Guang had no way to stroll around outside while You'er was in the lab, leaving him to stare blankly from the sidelines.
The scenes he could see were all constructed from You'er's fragmented memories.
Things You'er had seen and forgotten could perhaps be reconstructed, but things he had never seen at all would have to be fabricated out of thin air.
Eventually, bored out of his mind, Chu Guang simply snatched the remote control from Xiao Qi and cranked the fast-forward speed up to a hundred times, a thousand times, and even ten thousand times...
Then, in the blink of an eye, four years flashed past, arriving at the year 2125.
Chu Guang suddenly recalled that this year seemed to be the beginning of the Three-Year War, and promptly canceled the fast-forward.
Coincidentally, at the exact moment he dialed the speed back to 1x, new changes were taking place in the institute.
Several soldiers clad in military exoskeletons stood at the laboratory entrance, while a grim-faced officer was in deep conversation with the facility's supervisor.
The streets in the distance were visibly bleak. More than half the advertisements on the holographic billboards were gone; what few remained looped news broadcasts from the front lines and war mobilization announcements.
Unable to hear their conversation, Chu Guang walked back over to You'er, who was currently talking with his senior, Zhao Feiyu.
After four years of growth, the green youth had matured into a dependable researcher.
For a brief moment, Chu Guang saw a shadow of Yin Fang in him.
The two were remarkably alike.
Both belonged to that rare breed of pure, dedicated researchers.
At least, that was who he was right now.
"Our lab has been requisitioned. We're now under the jurisdiction of the Central Wartime Research Institute."
"...Requisitioned?" You'er glanced at Zhao Feiyu, confused. "We don't develop weapons here."
"That's right. So our job isn't to develop weapons either... It's to assist the Army in evaluating biological hazard risks and help relief departments develop low-cost drugs."
Seeing You'er's worry, Zhao Feiyu clapped him on the shoulder.
"No need to worry. This is actually... a good thing. At a critical juncture like this, our needs get priority, and the Academy helped us secure a hefty budget."
In the Era of Prosperity, the Academy was a loose academic organization composed primarily of prominent figures in academia, somewhat akin to a chamber of commerce for merchants or a labor union for workers.
While having someone looking out for them was nice, Zhao Feiyu showed not the slightest trace of joy as he said this.
The war had broken out with terrifying suddenness.
Without any warning.
Rumor had it that a space station at a Lagrange point had detected hostile actions originating from the direction of Proxima Centauri. Yet what that hostile action actually was, or what motive had driven the colonists to start the war, no one knew.
Perhaps such details would only be made public after the war ended. In any case, the scale of this sudden conflict surpassed everyone's imagination.
Particularly for the vast majority of people in this era, war was a completely alien concept—rarely seen in the news, and seldom even depicted in films.
Even so, the Human Alliance still held a massive advantage.
Relying on their colossal industrial power, talent reserves, and mobilization capability, they raised a massive army from scratch in just a single month.
Yet the situation remained grim.
The traitors four light-years away had played their trump card right out of the gate, deploying an indescribable fungus upon their homeworld.
It was an organism no one had ever seen.
Earth's biosphere possessed nothing remotely comparable.
Evidently, it was a mutant native to Alpha Centauri. After discovering it, the colonial authorities had never reported it to the Human Alliance, keeping it hidden as their ace in the hole.
Perhaps it was the madness of a few individuals, or perhaps a collective decision, but pondering such questions now was pointless.
The slime mold's spores and fruiting bodies spread throughout the intricate rail transit networks, rendering Qingquan City, eight hundred kilometers away, uninhabitable in an instant.
And Qingquan City wasn't alone; almost every major metropolis suffered the same fate. Ironically, obscure smaller cities like Jinhe City were spared.
When all conventional methods failed to halt its expansion, the authorities had to resort to their final option:
Purging it with all-powerful neutron radiation before it could spread to other metropolitan clusters.
Whether from an economic perspective or any other, this would cause the least fallout. Moreover, by using pure-fusion hydrogen bombs that left behind no lingering radiation, even the buildings could be preserved.
"...In short, our job is to determine the effect of neutron radiation on the slime mold broodmothers and assess the damage. They plan to design a weapon system capable of releasing directional, stable plumes of neutrons, eliminating even the need for an explosion. The Academy has contacted a physics institute to coordinate with us on this evaluation."
"Does something like that even need testing?" You'er gave him a puzzled look.
Though no nuclear weapons specialist, he knew full well that no living organism could survive neutron radiation.
It would riddle nucleic acids, proteins, and enzymes with holes, halting every biological activity based on those macromolecules.
An organic body could never survive neutron radiation—
Wait, not necessarily.
Such an organism did exist.
You'er suddenly remembered the faint blue mushrooms in the petri dishes in their lab, which possessed that very miracle.
Because internal monologues were part of memory, Chu Guang, standing beside him, could see not only what You'er said aloud, but also the thoughts he kept to himself.
"Some people worry that nuclear strikes might cause the mutant slime mold to mutate further, making things even worse," Zhao Feiyu said, watching the soldiers with a complicated expression. "Honestly, that's my assessment too... The enemy surely anticipated we'd use this approach. Could they really be unprepared?"
Watching their exchange, Chu Guang felt a flicker of doubt.
If he remembered correctly, nuclear warheads had been used in the early stages of the war; the journal bearing a bloody handprint had recorded the events of that time.
Why was it different in You'er's memories?
Puzzled, Chu Guang pressed fast-forward and kept watching.
Barely a month later, while eating in the cafeteria, You'er saw the mushroom cloud blooming over Qingquan City on the news.
Although the news anchor claimed the residents had been fully evacuated or had entered shelters, the hollow words carried little conviction no matter how one listened.
That was a megacity of over a hundred million people.
How could they possibly evacuate everyone?
And where could they even relocate so many people?
At least in Jinhe City, he hadn't seen a single refugee from Qingquan City.
You'er sat frozen in his chair. His hand trembled, and his spoon clattered loudly into his tray.
Startled by the noise, he didn't pick it up. Instead, he shoved his chair back, leaped to his feet, and hurried toward his senior's office, barging in without even knocking.
"What's going on? A nuclear bomb? Aren't I still working on the technical feasibility? And why a nuclear bomb..."
Gazing at the holographic news broadcast, Zhao Feiyu's face was heavy with gravity.
"I don't know..."
Frustration flashed across You'er's face.
"Then what was the point of our experiments? We wasted an entire month for nothing! They never intended to listen to our recommendations at all! Why didn't they just tell me that from the start?!"
"I'm sorry, I really don't know," Zhao Feiyu sighed. "Maybe... someone just needed us to do this to comfort the bewildered masses."
"For instance, claiming the nuclear weapon was detonated by ourselves under the guidance of experts to purge an evil bioweapon... doesn't that sound a lot easier to swallow than 'the Aerospace Force's defense line was breached by colonial invasion fleets'?"
You'er stared blankly.
"The Aerospace Force's defense line was breached?"
"I'm just talking nonsense. You'd better not take it seriously."
Seeing You'er's stunned expression, Zhao Feiyu offered an easy smile, though there wasn't a trace of ease in his eyes.
Pausing for a moment, he continued.
"Back to the previous question, I think spinning it differently might be more conducive to unity. At least right now isn't the time to point fingers. We're living through a catastrophe unseen in over a century. Even if we want to hold someone accountable, that will have to wait until this is all over. Right now, unity is more important than the truth."
"I hope my guess is wrong, because if it's right, it means countless people have already died while we're talking here."
With that, he reached out and switched off the news, pausing briefly before going on.
"But under the worst-case assumption, if my guess is right... perhaps the attack we suffered isn't just biological."
"You know about it, right? In the Alpha Centauri system, aside from the yellow dwarfs Alpha Centauri A and Alpha Centauri B, there's also the red dwarf Proxima Centauri. The radiation released by its stellar flare activity is hundreds of times greater than the Sun's... a lethal dose for terrestrial life."
You'er nodded.
Extraterrestrial biology wasn't his specialty, but he had heard bits and pieces about the mutants from the colonies; in short, it was an immensely intricate ecosystem.
If not for the sudden outbreak of war, he had even planned to apply for an academic exchange once conditions there improved.
Seeing him nod, Zhao Feiyu continued.
"So in early assessments, astronomers deduced from existing knowledge that habitable planets couldn't exist in the Alpha Centauri system... Until our probes actually flew out there and beheld that aurora-shrouded world. Only then did we begin studying that unprecedented ecosystem."
"You must have noticed: neutron radiation is fatal to us, but not necessarily to the mutants of the colony. They evolved into what they are within an environment wracked by frequent stellar flares."
"A purely biological weapon isn't enough to yield immediate results. If the colonial traitors intended to make the homeworld uninhabitable... a bioweapon alone could hardly achieve that."
"A reasonable suspicion is that before we even received this project, a nuclear warhead had already been detonated. Who can say whether the bomb or the slime mold was the bonus prize?"
You'er swallowed hard.
"A dirty bomb..."
"Most likely," Zhao Feiyu nodded, sighing. "To mutants from the Alpha Centauri system, it might not even count as 'dirty'—they grew up bathed in radiation anyway. But to Earth's species, it's devastating enough."
*Why would they do this?!*
You'er kept the question locked in his heart rather than speaking it aloud.
He knew he wasn't the only one baffled. His senior was just as bewildered by their own kin turning against them.
Why did it have to come to this?
Couldn't they just sit down and talk?
"In any case, the project has changed. We have to return to our initial topic, and on top of anti-radiation drugs, we need to add research on radiation removers. Medical nanorobots are facing supply shortages, and so are bionic organs. We can only pin our hopes on conventional pharmaceuticals to solve our problems."
You'er looked up.
"Is this an order from the Wartime Research Institute?"
Zhao Feiyu shook his head.
"No. It's a recommendation from the Academy and the institute director's opinion... I think they're right. Rather than wasting time helping the authorities placate the public, we're better off doing something genuinely meaningful. Prevention alone isn't enough; we have to purge the radiation damage that's already been done."
In fact, just two days after the broadcast, they received orders from the Central Wartime Research Institute terminating their research on "the effects of neutron radiation on slime mold broodmothers."
Just as You'er's senior had guessed, the actual results of their research were irrelevant. What mattered was that someone had to be seen doing it.
Thanks in part to their frantic efforts, which worked alongside the media to steady public confidence outside the war zones, the Human Alliance hadn't buckled immediately under their opponent's initial onslaught.
Although the colony's surprise strike had dealt massive damage to the homeworld, the war had only just begun, and the odds were still heavily in the Human Alliance's favor.
Even so, You'er couldn't help feeling disheartened.
He had toiled for a whole month in vain.
If the results of the research didn't matter from the start, why expend so much energy on it? And whether doing so served any real purpose, nobody knew.
Day after day passed. With major breakthroughs in their research on anti-radiation drugs and radiation removers, more and more supplies were funneled to the institute.
Most recently, the Human Alliance Army delivered a shipment of helium-3 nuclear fuel—over a thousand cubic meters of it—leaving everyone with an unsettling foreboding.
This wasn't a quantity of material a single research institute could ever consume.
It hinted that this conflict was turning into a war of attrition.
Looking at those canisters of nuclear fuel, Chu Guang, peeking at the scene from the side, practically drooled with envy. Unfortunately, this was just a memory. Even if he wanted them, he would have to wait until he dealt with the mutants there.
At any rate, he committed the storage location of the nuclear fuel to memory.
When the time came, the players would recover these treasures for him.
More time slipped by, though how much was impossible to tell.
As the war escalated, surface living conditions degraded continuously, forcing the research facility to relocate from aboveground into subterranean depths.
Although Chu Guang saw no real combat in the memories of this insignificant figure, You'er, the suffocating tension on the street outside the institute and its visible desolation made it easy to sense the sheer brutality at the front.
Regrettably, after moving into the underground facility, You'er never stepped outside again, cutting off all outside information in an instant.
At first, there was still news to watch, but eventually even the broadcasts stopped. Only the people delivering periodic supply shipments occasionally brought word of the outside world.
It wasn't as though anyone had locked them in; people were constantly coming and going via the elevator, and the researchers were free to leave at any time.
It was just that, seeing the grim faces of those who returned, and imagining the howling icy winds and radioactive fallout outside—a complete apocalypse—
nobody wanted to leave.
Most still wished to preserve some fond memories of that glorious era.
And rather than facing a ruined world, it was better to pour their energy into the work at hand. At least their subterranean work environment was relatively comfortable, their supply shipments received top priority, and amidst their frantic labor, they could even enjoy coffee brewed by beautiful androids.
Yet every job had an end.
Through the efforts of countless individuals, the final formulations of the radiation removers and anti-radiation drugs were at last perfected, with streamlined recipes and manufacturing processes—allowing even crude refugee shelters to produce them using limited equipment and resources.
Intriguingly, Champion Group had originally launched this project to make a fortune, yet no one foresaw that long before they could strike it rich, credits themselves would lose all meaning.
When most people couldn't even be sure they would live to see tomorrow, credit had become an absurd concept.
The formulas for both the radiation removers and the anti-radiation drugs were made public for all settlements to use free of charge, and the researchers at the institute finally breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Around this time, a supply runner brought great news: this brutal war, which had dragged on for nearly three years, was finally coming to an end.
Supposedly, thanks to the valiant struggle of the frontline forces, the colonial defenders were falling back in defeat, their final resistance spent.
This was undoubtedly the best news they had heard in three years, and the atmosphere in the lab turned as lively as a festival.
Chu Guang desperately wanted to tell them that they were celebrating far too early—that after the Three-Year War would come two full centuries of the Wasteland Era, with no end in sight even now.
Civilization would collapse into chaos at unprecedented speed. Compared to those two centuries of darkness, these mere three years of torment were nothing.
At least they still had pretty android girls pouring tea and water, and at least their supplies had never stopped arriving.
Yet even if he could speak to these euphoric people, they probably wouldn't believe a word he said anyway.
A celebration party broke out in the lab, while the antisocial You'er, unable to hold back his curiosity, slipped outside.
No longer a young kid, the man finally summoned the courage to step onto the surface once more.
Yet when he laid eyes on this unrecognizable world, he froze, completely stunned, his mouth hanging open without a single word coming out.
Just then, a sigh drifted from behind him.
"As you can see, our world is finished."
Chapter 585