The Old Guys Dropped Gold Coins!

Daybreak City Nuclear Power Plant, power generation room. Blue and green signals alternated across the console screens, accompanied by a low hum of white noise echoing through the spacious hall. An aging reactor sat at the center of the workshop, surrounded by a dense crowd of people. Its faded emblems and serial numbers gave the machine an antique feel, but the integrally cast streamlined shell and ingenious design were still remarkably impressive. Not only did the Alliance think so. Even engineers from Ideal City shared that opinion. Precisely because of this, ever since the shelter residents salvaged this "Backup Reactor" from the deepest reaches of the Xizhou City subway line and built a power plant for it, the reactor had served as the beating heart of Alliance industry. Moreover, it had also served as an instructional model for researchers from Camp 101 to study and reference. Carrying so many accolades, it was natural that Wang Zhengyi, the nuclear fusion engineer at the Daybreak City Power Plant, showed off this prized accomplishment with no small amount of pride. Even though the Administrator told them to learn from the Academy, they couldn't let themselves be looked down upon, could they? Besides, only when the student showed decent stuff would the teacher be motivated to share their real expertise! Of course, Master Wang's actual thoughts weren't so complicated—he simply wanted to show off in front of the Academy on behalf of the Alliance. What he hadn't anticipated, however, was that after laying eyes on this "crystallization of civilization from the Era of Prosperity," the twenty-something young punk merely curled his lip in a faint smirk, not even sparing him enough face to hold back a couple of scoffing remarks. Master Wang's face had already flushed red as a lantern. His colleagues looked at him with concern, terrified his blood pressure might blow through the roof. Yet the young fellow named Zhong Jingchu showed no intention of stopping, even adding a casual dig at the end. "Far too primitive." "Your mother's the primitive one!" Wang Zhengyi snapped back, fuming. "You think you're so damn clever! So impressive! If you don't use laser ignition, what the hell do you ignite it with?" Zhong Jingchu offered a faint smile and replied in an unhurried drawl, "We don't ignite. We cold start." Wang Zhengyi froze, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. "...Cold start?" He had heard the term mentioned by folks from Enterprise, and experts from Camp 101 had brought it up too. But neither side recommended pursuing that technical route, even though it was more energy-efficient and effective. The reason was simple. While controlled fusion fuels were non-renewable resources until Earth-Moon flights were restored, there was still an abundance of stockpiles left behind from the Era of Prosperity across the wasteland. Given the current scale of surface industrial activity, which fell far short of even the Old Era's economic crisis levels, there was simply no need to worry about being thrifty. At least not for the next fifty years. Seeing the veteran engineer's dazed expression, Zhong Jingchu didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a bottle of mineral water from his bionic assistant, twisted off the cap, and splashed two small puddles onto the ground. Now, not just the veteran engineer was dumbfounded; the other engineers of the Daybreak City Nuclear Power Plant looked utterly baffled as well, wondering what this guy was up to. Confronted by those bewildered stares, Zhong Jingchu explained in layman's terms: "...If you want to fuse two metal spheres into one, the most efficient method isn't to crush them together in a hydraulic press, but to melt them. "The same goes for atoms. Whether it's laser ignition, inertial confinement, or indirect-drive ignition... those are all methods from the early Era of Prosperity, or even the Old Era. "There's nothing shameful about that, of course. "After all, in an age when we knew next to nothing about the true nature of the four fundamental forces, we could only conceptualize a 'forge' and a skilled 'blacksmith,' using the crudest, most inefficient methods to melt, hammer, and smash atomic nuclei, forcing them to release the energy locked inside. "Everything changed drastically once our professors discovered the existence of gravitons. At first, we continued using laser technology, not for ignition, but to polarize atoms into a special bonded state that pulled them closer together. Later, we found ways to directly manipulate force fields using gravitons. Later still, we attempted to weaken the repulsive forces between atoms, breaking the equilibrium between repulsion and attraction... And after that, a miracle no one anticipated occurred. "The atoms merged together, just like water." Hearing this, one engineer muttered, "So it's just gravitons after all that talk... But even with gravitons, don't you still have to pump energy in first?" The other engineers shared similar thoughts. Manipulating gravitons didn't come cheap in terms of energy; it wasn't necessarily any cheaper than laser ignition. "Yes, to gain something you must invest something, so ignition energy is inevitable," Zhong Jingchu nodded, then shifted tone. "However, by manipulating force fields, we can drastically reduce the energy required for ignition and reaction maintenance. "What we're manipulating isn't an airship the size of the Heart of Steel, just a handful of reacting atoms. The energy consumed is more than an order of magnitude lower than using lasers to heat plasma... not to mention far more stable and efficient. "Returning to the miracle I mentioned—we found that using gravitons to bond atoms allows what would otherwise be a violent fusion reaction to occur under gentle conditions... at least in that very first instant, it is extraordinarily gentle. "And that is what we call a cold start." Looking at the engineers hanging on his every word, Zhong Jingchu smiled faintly and continued in a steady cadence, "Based on similar principles, Human Alliance researchers discovered a series of more convenient, efficient methods—such as sustaining fusion at room temperature and ambient pressure, making reactions proceed even more mildly, and so on. "Even the portable reactors you manufactured using black boxes were born from this very process." Brilliant! Aside from the nuclear engineers, the surrounding staff and bystanders couldn't help applauding. Though the Alliance nuclear engineers didn't clap, their faces were filled with admiration. While they had learned reactor maintenance techniques from Camp 101, as wastelanders, they truly had no idea where those techniques originated. Even their instructors—the professors at Camp 101—might not have known. After all, the instructors from Shelter 101 didn't teach everything. This young man had filled in their blind spots, recounting in just a few words the history that virtually every wastelander had long forgotten. From the principles of the technology... ...to the origins that reached even closer to its very essence! Though impressed by the kid's profound knowledge, Old Master Wang wasn't completely won over—conceding at most half. Admiration aside, no matter how much one lectured on history, it was still just things that had happened in the past. Those memories couldn't serve as reactor fuel, nor could they serve as its casing. He cared about practical matters. "You talk about those experiments as if you ran them yourself," Wang Zhengyi choked out after a long pause. Zhong Jingchu smiled faintly and replied, "I wasn't the one who originally conducted them, but every single one of those experiments has been replicated with our own hands. Not only do I remember every detail clearly, but I also know *why* they worked that way." Wang Zhengyi caught his breath, his eyes growing fervent. "Is that for real?" Zhong Jingchu smiled, nodding, and said in a gentle tone, "Of course it's real. And my mentor said it's time to pass this heritage on to you. "Everything about where these technologies came from, how to apply them, and how to conduct experiments and make improvements upon the foundations laid by our predecessors." Hearing this, Old Master Wang's temper vanished completely, utterly won over. The scowl on his purplish-red face melted into a broad, delighted grin. The Administrator certainly hadn't been joking—those folks from the Academy really had some serious chops! If an expert of his own caliber tried to act high and mighty, he naturally wouldn't stand for it. Besides, bending the knee to a young kid in his early twenties was psychologically hard to swallow for a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties. Yet through this exchange, he knew beyond a doubt that this guy was leagues ahead of him—practically in the stratosphere. There was simply no comparison between them. If he could learn some genuine craft from the Academy, he didn't mind lowering his head. Once he mastered it, he could always go flex on the folks from Enterprise. While Wang Zhengyi was musing, the other engineers' faces were already ablaze with eager enthusiasm, completely enthralled. "Brother, that cold ignition... bah, no-ignition method, you've gotta teach us!" "Man, why didn't my brain ever think of that!" "Please don't hold back, brother, teach us everything!" "Big brother, if you don't mind, I'll call you Master right now!" Watching these wastelanders ravenous for knowledge, Zhong Jingchu offered a composed smile. Though he could barely keep the smug smirk off his face, he maintained the dignified demeanor of a transcendent master accepting disciples. "You're too kind. "I will teach you everything I know!" Among the onlookers gathered around the reactor, in addition to plant employees, were a few players slacking off with nothing better to do. Under normal circumstances, players wouldn't bother visiting a background-prop facility like this, but these days were anything but normal. The Academy sending an expert delegation to the Alliance had made the front-page headline of Dawn City's *Survivor Daily*! Although the Academy had sent researchers and prospectors to Dawn City long ago, they had been few and far between, always elusive, and virtually impossible to run into unless one took on a Scientific Expedition quest. Because of that, the moment word spread that these researchers were hanging around the nuclear power plant, players flocked over in droves to watch the show. This was far more entertaining than mammoths in a zoo! And in truth, it was. Having witnessed such an epic flex, [Solo Jungler] couldn't resist joining the NPCs in applauding. "Holy crap, the Academy folks sure know how to posture!" [Punching Bag Marksman] looked at him. "You mean assembling nuclear fusion?" Solo Jungler: "What nuclear fusion? I'm talking about flexing." Punching Bag Marksman: "*Pffft—*" [Starvation Mid], who hadn't said a word and was merely giggling foolishly, suddenly chimed in, "I've noticed the Academy has quite a few tsunderes." "Like who... Jiang Xuezhou?" Solo Jungler racked his brain; she seemed to be the only Academy researcher whose name he remembered, and even that was from reading forum posts by chance. Starvation Mid chuckled sheepishly. "And Yin Fang." Punching Bag Marksman: "?" Solo Jungler: "?" Starvation Mid: "Hehe, don't you think? His mouth says no, but his body is honest." Solo Jungler: "No, I just think there's something seriously wrong with you..." Starvation Mid: "...?" On the other side, bionic engineers from Shelter 100 were also whispering among themselves. They weren't specialists in nuclear fusion, but they knew a fair bit about various reactor models and could tell that this researcher surnamed Zhong genuinely knew his stuff. By this point, young Zhong Jingchu had transitioned from the history of science to the core difficulties of fusion reactor cold-start technology and the primary approaches to solving them. Not only were the Alliance nuclear engineers listening with glowing eyes, but even Gu Lang, who didn't understand the first thing about nuclear fusion, was listening with enraptured fascination, practically drooling. Unfortunately, however. While the former could at least grasp the underlying logic, the latter was merely enjoying the spectacle. Once he snapped out of it, he realized he was none the wiser; what was Greek to him remained completely Greek. Pulling his gaze back with lingering reluctance, Gu Lang remarked wistfully, "Damn it! Too bad I studied automation... By the way, Professor Yan, you're a physicist. Tell me, that cold fusion reactor... is it actually legit?" Feeling the burning intensity in his gaze, Kuang Feng sighed. "I'm just a physics researcher, not God... Don't overthink it, and definitely don't dream of biting off an entire Era of Prosperity in one gulp. Lay the foundation first." Never mind advanced concepts like cold starts and cold fusion reactors; by this game world's standards, real-world fusion technology hadn't even achieved true "controllability." The two weren't even the same thing, relying on fundamentally different technical principles. Still unwilling to let it go, Gu Lang looked at the head-shaking Kuang Feng and couldn't help saying, "It must provide some inspiration, right? Like technical approaches or something..." "You mean the technical roadmap for cold-starting nuclear fusion?" Kuang Feng couldn't help chuckling, looking at his colleague. "Let me put it this way: in high-energy physics, there has always been a conjecture about unifying the four fundamental forces. Many mathematicians and physicists have worked toward it—some dedicating their entire lives." Gu Lang stared blankly at him. Seeing him pause, he couldn't help prompting, "...And then?" Kuang Feng fell silent for a moment, shifting his gaze toward the researcher not far away. "To us, that's merely a conjecture. "Yet in this game world... right here, the 'gravitons' that fit Grand Unified Theory are something tangible. "Do you know what that means?" Gu Lang stared at him blankly. "...No idea." Kuang Feng stared at him for a moment, sighed, and looked away. "...Forget I said anything." Gu Lang: "???" His buddy Fang Chang always felt that *Wasteland OL* wasn't just a simple game world, but rather a living, breathing realm. As a physicist, however, Kuang Feng held a different view. Strictly from a physicist's perspective, he felt this place resembled an alternate universe. The laws of physics from reality didn't fully apply here—or rather, applied only within a limited scope. And the deeper one probed into the microscopic realm, the more pronounced this phenomenon became. Take the classic double-slit experiment, for instance. In the game world of *Wasteland OL*, the precision required of instruments was higher than in reality, which meant that the microscopic world here had less "uncertainty." Working backward, this meant the Planck constant in the world of *Wasteland OL* was smaller than the Planck constant in reality—even if the deviation was so minute it was almost uncalculable, infinitesimal in the mathematical sense. Yet even if infinitesimal, different was different. Thinking about this carefully was actually deeply terrifying. A smaller Planck constant meant smaller quantum scales, lower probabilities of quantum effects, a more stable universe, and fewer uncertainties. To use a layman's analogy: If God, who generated everything in the universe, were compared to a computer or a massive graphics card with finite computing power, suppose there were two Gods, A and B, each deploying their computational power to render two distinct worlds: A and B. God A could only render the models of cities and citizens, blurring details like the citizens' pores; only when the camera zoomed right up to a citizen's face would the pores be generated on the fly. Prior to the act of observation, the pixels belonging to those pores did not exist. Where unobserved by the camera, the little figures generated in World A might even clip through walls from time to time—commonly known as "clipping." Graphics Card B was different. Not only could it simultaneously render a city and the pores on its citizens, but it could also detail textures visible only under a microscope... Regardless of whether an observer got that close, the textures belonging to those pixels existed; in other words, their existence did not depend on the act of observation. In the world generated by Graphics Card B, people could never walk through walls; at least, the little figures walking the city could never clip, whether visible to players or not. To find a "clipping" bug in the world rendered by Graphics Card B, one had to look at microscopic scales invisible even to standard microscopes. Such as the nanoscale. When chips became small enough, microscopic particles like electrons would tunnel through potential barriers—the so-called "quantum tunneling" effect. To make an imperfect yet vivid comparison: if the world rendered by Graphics Card B was called "Earth OL," then the world rendered by Graphics Card A was "Night City." What's more, it was a Night City within countless parallel universes, unaffected by the continuous interference and observation of "Earth OL" players. The detail of being "unaffected by continuous interference and observation" was especially crucial, as any act of interference could iterate and branch into N distinct parallel universes frame by frame—and indeed, different players' save files were genuinely different. At the same time, for a game world where thermodynamic experiments were impossible, "frame rate" served as one of the key parameters for calculating Planck's constant. And a Planck constant calculated from frame rates was guaranteed to be less than 1, yet vastly greater than the Planck constant in reality! Far, far greater! *Wasteland OL* had no concept of frame rate; the fidelity of its visuals and physics engine far exceeded conventional AAA titles. Here, not to mention thermodynamic experiments, one could even conduct nuclear tests, calculating Planck's constant by applying real-world methods directly—and Kuang Feng had done precisely that. Initially, he had conducted the experiments just for fun. After all, he knew very well that this was like plugging one's nose to fool one's eyes; upon detecting his actions, the game server could either ignore him or simply pull data from an encyclopedia to feed him the result he expected. Yet the results defied his expectations, reminiscent of the shock when he first encountered quantum mechanics— God had vanished. Or rather, had hidden away. Theoretically, *Wasteland OL*'s Planck constant should have been greater than *Earth OL*'s, just like Los Santos in GTA V, Night City in Cyberpunk, or Skyrim in Elder Scrolls... Yet the calculated outcome was the exact opposite: The former's value was infinitely close to the latter's, yet *smaller*! No matter how many times he calculated or repeated the experiment, the outcome remained the same. This meant "God B" had moved into "God A's" house—a graphics card with lower computing power was somehow running a card with even higher power... and the latter could execute programs the former couldn't run? In his thirty-odd years of life, he had never seen anything so absurd! Either Ah Guang was targeting him! Or the extraterrestrials behind Ah Guang—the extraterrestrial civilization theorized by the mainstream media—had targeted him, intentionally feeding him algorithms designed to guide him to such a result... For a time, he had fallen into confusion and self-doubt over his findings, even taking an extended leave of absence from his university to travel with a backpack, taking months to readjust his mindset before finally emerging from that existential funk. In truth, there was nothing to be lost over. Whether matter exists is an objective phenomenon, but "existence" itself is determined by subjective consciousness. Glancing at Gu Lang, who was still fixated on gravitons and nuclear fusion, Kuang Feng said placidly, "...A game world is just a game world. You can't expect to discover physical laws undiscovered in reality within a game or a film, and concocting an untestable, unfalsifiable conjecture isn't difficult at all." Pausing, he habitually reached up with his index finger to touch the bridge of his nose. The thick, high-prescription glasses that should have sat there did not exist in the game world. In this world, "Kuang Feng" was his name, while Yan Feng was merely another person living in a different world, someone who had nothing to do with "Kuang Feng." "Of course, given how close the Planck constants are... their theories did offer me some inspiration. Perhaps we might find something akin to gravitons after all." Gu Lang stared blankly at Professor Yan Feng and gave a wry smile. "You're making less and less sense..." ...