Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

He Damin stood amidst the clamor, gazing at this world constructed of steel and programs. Two years, sixty satellites. He recalled the days when he nearly starved to death in a dilapidated house in Beijing when he first arrived during the War of Resistance, and a slight smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.

"Master," 0037 approached him, two sets of 3D models displayed on the screen, "The communication constellation uses a low-Earth orbit design, with a single satellite covering a radius of approximately 4,000 kilometers. Thirty-six satellites ensure that at least three are visible from any point on Earth, completely eliminating communication blind spots. The positioning constellation uses a medium-Earth orbit design, with twenty-four satellites distributed across six orbital planes, providing all-weather, high-precision positioning, navigation, and timing services."

He Damin gazed at the silver satellite models, which slowly rotated on the light screen, their solar panels unfolding like wings. He knew, of course, what this meant. With communication satellites, the various branches of the Global Bank could transmit data in real time; fluctuations in New York's gold prices could be transmitted to Hong Kong in a second; and London customers could transfer funds to Tokyo with just a few keystrokes. With positioning satellites, his cargo ships would never lose their way in the Pacific Ocean again, and in the future, he could even equip every car with a locator, accurately pinpointing its location no matter where in the world it was.

This is no ordinary satellite. It is the blood vessels and nerves of the future world.

He turned to look at the distant vault, where mountains of gold bricks were piled up, reflecting a cold light under the lamplight. Gold is ultimately inanimate, while these metal creations, soon to soar into space, are the true levers that can shake the era.

In the days that followed, He Damin practically lived in his little world. He set up a cot next to the production line, sleeping only four or five hours a day. The rest of the time he either stared at the satellite's design blueprints or wandered around the factory, watching how robots turned a pile of parts into sophisticated spacecraft.

There is no day and night cycle in this small world, but He Damin still lives according to the outside time. Every morning, he first checks the production progress from the previous night, and then discusses the day's tasks with 0037. In the afternoon, he goes to the research area to watch how the robots adjust the atomic clocks. Blue laser beams trace precise trajectories in the vacuum chamber, and the atomic clocks emit a soft "tick-tock" sound, the most precise ticking of time. At night, he sits in the shadow of the flying saucer, watching the brightly lit production line in the distance, the robots working tirelessly, the sound of metal clashing like an incessant drumbeat.

The most difficult part of the first month was expanding the production line. The robots needed to manufacture new lathes, milling machines, and lithography machines, all of which required extremely high precision. Once, a newly built etching machine malfunctioned, causing a whole batch of silicon wafers to be scrapped. He Damin stared at the shattered wafers, his heart aching as if pierced by needles. It also took 0037 three days and three nights to find the problem; it turned out that the error of a sensor exceeded one millionth of a millimeter.

In the second month, the conversion efficiency of the solar panels still failed to meet the design standards. He Damin had robots disassemble and reassemble the production line, repeatedly experimenting with more than twenty material combinations. Finally, by adding trace amounts of selenium to the cadmium telluride film, the efficiency was improved from 15% to 20%. When the first batch of qualified solar panels came off the production line, He Damin touched the deep blue film, and under its cool touch, he could almost feel the flow of electricity.

In the third month, the flywheel of the attitude control system malfunctioned. During high-speed rotation, a slight misalignment occurred in the flywheel's axis, causing instability in the satellite's attitude. He Damin and three research robots simulated thousands of different bearing designs on a light screen, ultimately solving the problem by employing magnetic levitation technology. When the first flywheel rotated stably in a vacuum, the humming sound it emitted was as faint as the flapping of a hummingbird's wings.

Time slipped away silently amidst the clanging of metal and the flow of data. Six months later, as He Damin was eating a heated military-grade canned food, 0037 suddenly appeared before him. "Master, the prototype communications satellite is complete."

He Damin threw down the can and followed 0037 to the final assembly workshop. The satellite lay quietly on the workbench, about the size of a small car. Its main body was a silver-white titanium alloy frame covered with a layer of honeycomb-shaped heat-insulating tiles. The solar panels on both sides were not yet deployed, like a pair of folded wings. The bottom was densely packed with antennas and communication transponders, the gold-plated interfaces gleaming softly under the lights. There were several fist-sized thrusters on the side, their nozzles as thin as sewing needles.

"The communication repeater can receive and transmit signals, and the bandwidth meets the design requirements; the solar panel has an energy conversion efficiency of about 20%; the attitude control system uses a flywheel and a magnetic torquer, and the stability reaches the arcsecond level; the design life is about eight years." 0037 reported a series of data, and the electronic eye flashed green.

He Damin circled the satellite, then reached out and touched its outer shell. The smooth, cold metal surface reflected his blurry image. A line of small characters was laser-engraved on the shell: Spark Communications Constellation, No. 01. "Is it working properly?"

"On-orbit testing is required for final confirmation." 0037 retrieved a set of data: "Ground tests have all passed, and all parameters meet design specifications."

"Where's the positioning satellite?" He Damin walked to another workbench, where a pile of scattered parts were placed.

"The preliminary design has been completed, and key components are being manufactured." 0037 pulled up the blueprints for the atomic clock. "Positioning satellites require more precise rubidium atomic clocks, making them more difficult to manufacture. The first batch of atomic clocks has passed testing, achieving an accuracy of one billionth of a second, sufficient for meter-level positioning. The first prototype is expected to be completed in another six months."

"Continue." He Damin patted the satellite's outer shell, as if encouraging a soldier about to go into battle.

Six more months passed. The industrial zone in the small world had expanded tenfold. New factory buildings were neatly arranged like building blocks, conveyor belts transported parts from one workshop to another, and robots shuttled back and forth. He Damin's beard was now thick, and his clothes were stained with oil, but his eyes were growing brighter and brighter.

Twelve communication satellites have been completed. They stand neatly arranged on shelves in the assembly workshop, their silver-white casings gleaming coldly under the lights, each engraved with a different number. Four positioning satellites have also been completed, each larger than the communication satellites, integrating more complex atomic clocks and signal processing systems, with more and denser antennas. 0037 slid to He Damin's feet, a thin layer of oil condensing on its metal casing: "Master, sixteen satellites have been completed. At the current pace, all sixty satellites will be completed in twenty-four months."

He Damin gazed at the neatly arranged satellites, as if seeing an army lined up ready for battle. He reached out and pressed his hand against the solar panels of Xinghuo-12, the icy touch sending a chill down his spine. "Where's the energy reserve?"

"The UFO currently has 32% energy reserves." The electronic eye of 0037 flashed a data stream. "The satellite has consumed approximately 8% of its energy. Subsequent satellite manufacturing and deployment are expected to require another 35% of energy. After completing all missions, the UFO's energy will drop to approximately 24%."

"Begin deployment." He Damin straightened up, dusted off his hands, and said, "Send these sixteen up first."

Three days later, He Damin, wearing a specially made spacesuit, his helmet visor reflecting the lights of the industrial area, walked to the main control panel of the flying saucer, placed his palm on the sensor area, and instantly felt an electric current through the cold metal.

"0037, Deployment plan confirmed."

"The communications constellation uses a low-Earth orbit design, with an altitude of approximately 1,400 kilometers and an inclination of 86 degrees. Twelve satellites will be deployed across six orbital planes," 0037's voice crackled through the helmet, tinged with electrical static. "The positioning constellation uses a medium-Earth orbit design, with an altitude of 20,000 kilometers and an inclination of 55 degrees."

He Damin took a deep breath and pressed the start button. Pale blue flames erupted from the bottom of the flying saucer, and a heat wave instantly engulfed the entire launch site, causing the metal plates on the ground to sizzle. He felt a powerful thrust from the soles of his feet, his body was pressed tightly into the seat, and the scenery before his eyes began to blur. A few seconds later, the flying saucer appeared over the Pacific Ocean.

Outside lay the pitch-black expanse of space, Earth suspended like a blue gem in the darkness, clouds drifting slowly across its surface, tracing white lines. He Damin opened the porthole, the cold starlight bathing his face. He piloted the flying saucer, slowly ascending to an altitude of 1,400 kilometers. The air here was extremely thin, cosmic rays like silent bullets constantly pounding against the saucer's hull.

"Reached the designated orbit. Begin deploying the first batch of communication satellites," 0037's voice announced.

He Damin retrieved the satellite from the small world, then used the mechanical arm on the outside of the flying saucer to release the first communications satellite. The satellite floated gently in space, its solar panels unfolding with a "click," like a butterfly spreading its wings. The thrusters at the tail emitted faint flames as it began to adjust its attitude. He Damin watched it trace an arc in space, gradually disappearing into the shadow of Earth.

"Spark Communications Constellation No. 01 Deployment Completed."

The robotic arm continued its work, releasing satellites one after another into space. Like a school of silver fish, they nimbly adjusted their attitudes in the darkness, eventually entering their respective orbits. He Damin counted the numbers on the screen, and by the time the twelfth satellite was deployed, his palms were drenched in sweat.

"To the next track." He wiped the fog from inside his helmet.

The flying saucer restarted, and in the instant of the space jump, He Damin felt a wave of dizziness. When he opened his eyes again, they were already in a medium Earth orbit at an altitude of 20,000 kilometers. Here, Earth looked much smaller, like a delicate blue marble. Four positioning satellites were released in sequence, their solar panels reflecting dazzling light in the sunlight as they unfolded.

"The deployment of the Beichen positioning constellation, vols 01 to 04, is complete."

He Damin took one last look at the satellites twinkling in space, like diamonds scattered on black velvet. He remembered the sparkle in Chen Xueru's eyes as she looked at the stars last night, and a slight smile crept onto his lips. One day, she would know that among those stars, some were placed there by his own hands.