Elegy from Another World

[Authorization successful...]

[Visitor: K, Senior Director of the Project Oversight Committee]

[Access Target: Real-time data stream and analysis report for world number - Alpha-734]

[Timestamp: Standard Calendar, 14 calendar days after the entity Lysia separated]

In the cold, virtual conference room, K's image was projected onto a vast data star map. At the core of the star map was Alpha-734, the world that had once been engulfed in turmoil by the "Awakened Rebellion" and the "Administrator Massacre." At this moment, the spectrum representing the real-time heat of this world was irreversibly sliding from a glaring scarlet red to a dim orange-yellow, and continuously falling towards the blue area representing "calm."

"The rate at which the hype is fading is in line with expectations, even five percent faster than the most optimistic model predictions." L's languid voice came from another access point. His virtual avatar was leisurely "lying" on a beach chair made of flowing data, as if on vacation. "Humans are more forgetful than we imagine. Even the most thrilling 'live broadcast' can't attract their attention as much as what to have for breakfast tomorrow."

J's figure materialized beside him, holding a virtual coffee cup, taking a sip, his tone carrying a hint of relief at completing a task: "The public opinion control team did a good job. 'Systemic bug fixes,' 'deeply touching NPC family reunions,' 'the world returning to peace and prosperity'... with this combination of measures, most users have accepted our explanations. The few troublemakers who still question the 'realism of consciousness' have either been marginalized by the algorithm or attracted away by more exciting new game content."

"After all, we gave them a 'happy' ending, didn't we?" G's projection appeared, wearing that impeccable professional smile. "Evil was 'defeated,' the world was 'saved,' and there was even a heartwarming scene of long-lost relatives reuniting. Users don't want cold, hard truths; they want emotional value that satisfies them. We provided that, and naturally, they were satisfied."

K ignored their idle chatter, his finger swiping through the air to bring up a series of complex charts. Daily user online time, new character creation rate, frequency of paid item purchases, social media discussion volume... almost all key metrics were declining continuously.

"The revenue during peak periods was indeed considerable," K finally spoke, his voice calm and devoid of any emotion. "Especially during the days when the 'Guardians' appeared and the global cleansing event occurred, the profits from panic buying and the 'last experience' mentality were equivalent to half a year's revenue under normal circumstances. But a bubble is still a bubble."

He zoomed in on a resource consumption comparison chart. The curves representing server load, energy consumption, and maintenance costs, while decreasing after the world was "repaired," still remained at a level far higher than before the event.

"This outdated Alpha series server cluster was already marked as 'high energy consumption, low efficiency, and continuously in arrears,' and was scheduled to be phased out within three years." K's fingertip pointed to the exorbitant cost line. "This incident merely prematurely exhausted its last remaining lifespan. Maintaining the current 'perfect world' state consumes more than three times the energy of the previous dynamically calculated state. Every single second is a money-burning ordeal."

"In other words, this 'perfect world' is itself an unsustainable luxury," L snapped his fingers, revealing the truth in one sentence.

"That's right." K closed the chart and turned his gaze back to the "World Star," whose popularity was steadily declining. "Users' novelty is wearing off quickly. When this world can no longer offer 'the unknown' and 'conflict,' its appeal to users will plummet. Maintaining it will soon become unprofitable."

A moment of silence fell over the meeting room. They all understood what this meant.

"So, it's time to draft the 'Final Project.'" J put down his coffee cup, his tone becoming pragmatic. "While the hype hasn't completely died down, let's plan another marketing campaign. The theme... how about 'Eternal Hymn: Farewell and Rebirth'? We'll release limited-edition commemorative outfits, limited-edition mounts, and story ending collection albums—virtual merchandise like that. Give those long-time users who've invested emotionally a 'sense of ritual,' and at the same time, reap one last harvest of nostalgia."

"Okay." K nodded in approval. "The operations department will submit a detailed plan within a week. The focus should be on conveying 'beauty' and 'reluctance to part,' while downplaying 'abandonment' and 'ending.' We want users to feel that they actively chose to 'cherish' this memory, rather than that we shut down the server."

G immediately chimed in: "We have plenty of promotional material! Just use images of Tia's family having dinner at sunset, or children laughing in the restored main city square. Warm, nostalgic, paired with some sentimental music and copy, it's guaranteed to get a bunch of people to open their wallets."

"After harvesting this last wave," L sat up from the beach chair, a capitalist's shrewdness flashing in his eyes, "we can proceed with the server decommissioning process. Data backup... well, just a symbolic backup of the core architecture and main NPC templates will suffice, since the Alpha series technology is almost obsolete anyway. User data... according to the standard protocol, grant download permissions for a certain period, then permanently delete them."

"As for the escaped 'Spark' and her ship..." K's gaze seemed to pierce through the data star map, looking towards the dark area representing the unknown "Network Path." "Monitoring authority has been transferred to a specialized security department. They are no longer our problem. Whether they become ghosts lost in the data desert or run into other 'predators' and get torn apart is none of our concern."

His tone was indifferent, as if he were talking about a piece of redundant code that had already been cleaned up.

"That's settled then." K gave the final summary. "Project Alpha-734, overall assessment: its utilization value has been nearly exhausted, operating costs exceed revenue, and the period of social attention dividend has ended. It is approved to enter the final stage of its life cycle—'value recovery' and 'orderly disposal'."

The lights in the virtual conference room dimmed, and one by one the projections disappeared. Only the world star representing Alpha-734 remained, still slowly rotating according to its programmed sequence in the vast star map, emitting an increasingly faint light. It had once witnessed countless loves and hates, life and death struggles, but from a higher dimension, it had always been nothing more than a string of data that could be evaluated, used, and ultimately ruthlessly discarded.

Data tides rise and fall, and a new "world" is being built on more advanced services, ready to welcome the next batch of "players" seeking thrills and solace. But when the tide recedes, all that remains is a beach about to be formatted, and those past events that will fall into eternal silence along with the servers, memories that no one will remember.