People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

For the first time, Trevor Friston felt how little she knew about Priscilla. She also realized for the first time that Priscilla's changes seemed far greater than she had imagined.

Perhaps it was the Preservator's silence that made Precys realize something was wrong. The priestess lowered her head slightly, no longer allowing Trevor Friston to look her in the eye, and whispered:

“Sorry, Friston, I remember now. Thank you.”

[Storager]: "

The eerie silence made the stasis chamber feel like a desolate cemetery. The unique sense of terror associated with graves and the sadness of things being different simultaneously surfaced in Trevor Friston's mind. His gaze was fixed on Precys's dark brown hair, and he was somewhat worried that she would suddenly look up and give him a completely unfamiliar smile with a mocking look.

Fortunately, none of this happened. Precys simply sighed slightly and, as if changing the subject, said: Four

"Friston, your plan has failed. If I ask you, would you be willing to help me?"

"Help you?"

"The Originium Project has too much redundant information to process. After all, I am not [Amber] herself, and I am simply not able to handle it all by myself."

Precy Road,

"Because of the loss of [The Preservation of Civilization], that public measurement and reproduction platform has been crammed with too many illogical private instruction sets by too many people in too many crude ways over the past ten thousand years, leaving behind too many engineering gate definitions that were forgotten to be deleted. DWDB (The Preservation of Civilization Project) has a strong connection with Originium, and now I have to clean up these miscellaneous tasks as well."

“My strength is limited, and the prophet Friston, you will help me, won’t you?”

Trevor Friston gave Precys a long look, then slowly nodded:

"If that's all there is to it, then I will."

He might not be able to offer much help with Project Originium itself, as it was a project of Prisma, and aside from her, perhaps only the Prophet, as the overall person in charge, understood its core and operating principles. However, Project DWDB was a public measurement and reproduction platform built by all of them together. To ensure that regardless of which project succeeded in the end, this platform could be used to rebuild human civilization, each of them understood how to use this platform.

For some reason, Trevor Friston felt as if he had missed some important information.

Precys bowed slightly to Friston once more:

"I'll get in touch with you as soon as possible. If anything comes up, you can also contact me via Originium; you know it's not difficult."

After she finished speaking, her figure began to slowly disappear.

Trevor Friston watched the figure, hesitated for a moment, but still didn't speak, telling her that Luo might be at the lunar observation station.

After Priscilla's figure completely disappeared, he sighed softly and said with a self-deprecating laugh:

"If Treasure knew this, he would definitely say that I am not united enough and that I can't even trust my own companions."

Such suspicion of companions who share hardships in the apocalypse would have been considered a crime and condemned in the past.

But Trevor Friston is an old man.

His experience, his insight into human nature, and the nine senses of crisis that lurked within him all reminded him—wait a little longer.

Even if Project Originium is on the verge of success, a little more time won't make a difference. If Luo is truly at the lunar observation base, she won't be able to interfere with the Deep Blue Tree in the ocean for the time being. After all, the isolation layer is still there; no external signal can penetrate the protective barrier made of Originium.

isolation layer

Trevor Friston was taken aback.

Did he just make a hole in the isolation layer?

Originium, the internalized universe, the Originium Project Research Institute.

The internalized universe is like a golden ocean flowing with liquid amber, where light and shadow become solidified images. The information of the Terrans that has accumulated within over millions of years has also been transformed into specimens, stored within that crystal-clear "colloid".

If Trevor Friston's Preservator Stasis Site is a desolate, abandoned cemetery, then the Internalized Universe is a grand, magnificent slaughterhouse. Here, there is amber in the sky, amber on the ground, every building is made of amber, and every soul is imprisoned by amber. Every moment, every second, more and more fresh information flows into it through Originium from the outside world, becoming part of this vast slaughterhouse awaiting processing.

It can give people the most beautiful visual shock, or it can give people the most terrifying inner fear.

But Precys had already become accustomed to this.

Her steps were exceptionally steady. She had observed the Preservator's reaction and knew that she must have asked the wrong question.

But she really doesn't remember.

The prophet can irresponsibly erase all his memories in pursuit of a so-called truth. His current state of complete ignorance is pitiful, and Precys can no longer bear to blame him, because one day he will encounter that moment when he "wants to do something but is powerless to do so," and at that time, his powerlessness will become the best punishment for his choice.

If Heaven punishes you, then it will stop punishing you.

Her only responsibilities are to love, watch over, and remember.

Love the prophet, watch over the returning "treasure," and remember everything.

Everything recorded in the Originium needs to be remembered. Don't ask why it needs to be remembered; remembering itself is a power.

In order to remember all of that, she had to forget some other things.

Just as she told Trevor Friston, she was not Amber herself. Amber could perfectly preserve her memories, but Precys alone was simply too busy to remember everything. There were some less important things that she simply couldn't remember completely.

As for her invitation to the Preservers, it wasn't just a perfunctory formality. She genuinely hoped that more companions could join her plan and understand her good intentions.

She walked to her workbench, where countless images unfolded on the sky above her head—monitoring of everything in Terra through Originium.

Through it, Precys could see the Doctor sitting on the deck of Rhodes Island at night, gazing at the starry sky, his eyes under the hood seemingly filled with countless thoughts, sitting there for hours on end.

Precyth noticed the slowly repairing hole in the isolation layer in the sky, and that the light of the love letter had stopped shining. Of course she noticed, but she didn't care. Pets wag their tails to express their love for their owners, and owners can respond. But how many "normal people" would think that the owner has "human love" for the animal?

You can also see that at the Laterano World Expo, the Terrans are still drinking and making merry, and the noise seems to be going to continue until dawn.

There is only one blank space.

Natural amber cannot be contained by artificial amber; the "treasure" cannot be obtained using Originium Arts; it cannot be predicted by the Cyclops's big data; and similarly, it cannot be monitored.

There is only one exception.

"Treasure" held the [original Originium] in his hands, a part of himself.

Only in this situation, by using the original Originium itself as part of the "treasure" and possessing a status equal to the soul of the "treasure," can the "treasure" appear within the internalized universe's field of vision. At other times, when the "treasure" grasps an ordinary Originium, it will at most produce only a slight reaction.

However, Precys gave the original Originium to Ernst several times, but he eventually gave it to someone else or returned it.

Although he knew that was his personality, Precys still felt a little overwhelmed by the red heat.

Oh my, this "treasure" is so good, how am I supposed to spy on you, cough cough, how am I supposed to monitor your health?

This is why Precys sometimes doesn't receive Ernst's calls. When she's really busy, she certainly doesn't have time to stare at a blank screen the whole time. And since "Treasure" doesn't take the initial Originium, she can only judge whether "Treasure" might need her help by observing the reactions of others. Then, at night, she waits intently for "Treasure" to grasp the ordinary Originium, relying on that tiny fluctuation to ensure she appears in time.

This kind of commotion is so psychological that it's like when you send a message to a girl (or boy) you like, you always feel like your phone is about to vibrate, so you keep watching your phone.

It's easy to imagine how much time and effort this takes.

Precys sighed. There was nothing she could do; these things couldn't be rushed.

After observing the screen for a while and confirming that "Treasure" didn't seem to have called her tonight, Precys opened her work log and wrote down a work plan for tomorrow.

She couldn't recall whether Rhodes Island had its own "Rhodes Island," or if it did, where it was now. Judging from Trevor Friston's words, it seemed not. But did she really not have one? As a member of human civilization, that seemed somewhat unlikely.

To be honest, she has very little information about Luo in her mind right now.

The most troublesome thing is that she doesn't even know why she chose to forget the information about "Luo" in the first place, because for that reason, she has also forgotten it.

So she still planned to try and find the whereabouts of this possible spaceship.

If 9 cannot be found, then that's another story.

Of course, this is only part of the plan, and can only be considered a branch of her grand plan.

After finalizing the plan, she uploaded the catalog to her memo, her gaze unconsciously drifting towards the main plan's memo section.

4. [Panku Project]

The name of the deity who created the world is taken from the oral account of "Baozang" from the mythology of his hometown.

Wu, this name was transliterated by Precys from memory; he didn't specify which two characters "treasure" it was at the time.

Chapter 1026 The Return of Countless People

4. Columbia, Space Center, Day 7 of the Star-Picking Project.

The World's Fair is drawing to a close, and the Star-Picking Project is finally coming to an end.

Ernst also personally traveled from Laterano to the Columbia space base to welcome Terra's first "human space hero" home.

Kristen's actions were significant; her small step in the universe was a giant leap for all humanity on Terra. The cosmic data she brought back will have a profound impact on Terra's research into the isolation layer and outer space over the next fifty years.

Kristen herself may not care about such superficial fame, but these are precisely the fundamental reasons why the nations of Terra are willing to sponsor such an event.

You have to reap what you sow. If there is no reward, who would be willing to keep giving?

"Mr. Ernst."

In this relatively public setting, Mark Max didn't use the potentially misleading honorific. While the reentry capsule was landing, he leaned close to Ernst and whispered...

"Father requests that you come over there later, and please bring the Doctor with you."

Ernst raised an eyebrow, glanced at Mark Max, but did not refuse.

This is also something he is prepared to do.

The relationship between the prehistoric civilization and the Terran civilization is inseparable. When we talk about Terra, we don't need to dwell too much on the prehistoric civilization when discussing "Terra's present," but "Terra's past" and "Terra's future" undoubtedly depend on the existence of the prehistoric civilization.

But to be honest, Ernst thinks this is actually not very healthy.

No civilization should exist entirely dependent on another civilization, much less should the survival of any civilization depend entirely on the mood of another civilization. Although this is now a fait accompli, Ernst still hopes as much as possible that there may be some room for maneuver.

As one of the few remaining legitimate heirs to the legacy of the ancient civilization, Ernst had long wanted to bring them together to discuss this matter.

The Originium Project requires sacrificing the Terran lands, and the Heaven's Pivot Project is also undoubtedly targeting the Terran lands. Judging from the current hostility shown by the Sealings towards the Agor civilization, it is difficult to guarantee that they will not turn the same hostility towards the land after further development. Putting aside the Preservator Project, which is just a filler project, all other projects are basically based on the premise of "sacrificing Terran".

Unfortunately, Ernst is now a Terran.

In terms of identity, he has both a human identity and a Terran identity. However, because he has no memory of the prehistoric civilization, he finds it harder to part with Terra, where he has lived for over twenty years, and with his family there.

No matter how bad this place is, it's still my home, and my family lives here. I can curse it, I can feel disgusted, but you can't say I don't love it, much less attack it.

There's a Chinese proverb that says, "There's no place like home." Ernst had that mentality.

Although Precys said, "There is no other way," that was only her side of the story. If possible, Ernst would like more people to offer more comprehensive opinions for consideration.

Even if the final result remains the same, at least he has tried his best.

"Will Priscilla come too? Should I call her?"

Ernst inquired.

Mark Max shook his head:

"This meeting was proposed by her to her father. She will be there in person, so you don't need to make another trip."

Ernst nodded knowingly.

Far away at the launch site's monitoring center, a deafening roar, like tearing fabric, echoed from the depths of the desert as twelve golden-red streaks pierced the leaden-gray clouds. The silvery-white reentry capsule, trailing a comet-like streak of light, plummeted downwards, its charred brown heat-resistant tiles peeling away in the thin atmosphere to reveal the underlying honeycomb alloy skeleton.

"Ignite the buffer engine!"

Ernst heard the shouts of scientists in the control center, and the bursts of electronic sounds pierced the silence. Everyone knew that launching the rocket into space was only the simplest part of the whole plan. Previous Star Exploration Projects had already sent many things into space for a tour. The only problem they should be concerned with was how to safely bring someone who had been to space back to Earth, and it was also the true core of this Star Exploration Project.

To this end, they made countless preparations.

The ground trembled and cracked, and the engineer's knuckles turned bluish-white from pressing them against the control panel. Suddenly, six indigo-blue deceleration parachutes bloomed three thousand meters in the air, bearing the logos of the World Summit, the World Expo, and Rhine Lab. The taut ropes whistled sharply in the gale, as if they were about to snap under the strain.

But before that, the control center had remotely activated the space base's safety devices.

Hundreds of upgraded Gravity Defiance Mechanisms, professionally enhanced by Nasti, had already received orders and began to unfurl their rotors, revealing their cores and emitting a pale blue glow. They belonged to the same version as the Gravity Defiance Mechanisms now embedded at the bottom of the floating city of Kazdelnia, and their reliability had been thoroughly proven. With Columbia providing ample energy, they could even directly lift a medium-sized moving block!

The return capsule, which was originally falling at high speed, began to slow down slowly after reaching a certain position to prevent the excessive impact from smashing the Christen inside the capsule into a pancake. Soon, under the pull of the gravity defying mechanism, the capsule landed smoothly and slowly on the pre-prepared buffer zone, completing a safe landing.

Ernst clearly sensed a brief silence falling over the control center.

The air inside the building seemed to have been sucked out by a vacuum pump in an instant. Everyone's eyes were glued to the monitoring images on the main screen. The leaping green dots outlined the final landing trajectory of the return capsule. The recorder, who should have recorded all of this in the document log, had his fingers twitching slightly from being too tense on the keyboard.

One second, two seconds

Sir Byron at the main control console seemed to be waiting for something. His gaze was fixed on the ground crew who were rushing to the landing point of the return capsule. Only when the main control console broadcast three consecutive data beeps did he let out a long sigh of relief as if he had collapsed. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned on the secondary screen of the full control center.

The screen showed the landing point of the return capsule from various angles, but the voice reports sent back by the ground crew were the key to their real surprise:

"The cabin is 98.8% intact"

The sound, tinged with the slight hum of wind, now sounded like a trumpet blast at the opening of a grand ceremony. After a full half-minute of silence, the entire control center erupted in thunderous cheers. The documents awaiting review scattered like startled doves, the esteemed old knight was tossed into the air like a toy, and even Ernst was surrounded by a group of strangers who boldly grabbed his hand and excitedly swung his arm around as if it were a jump rope. Not to mention President Mark Max.

Ernst later learned that he had been hugged and kissed countless times by a scientist from Colombia, and then, like in the opening scene of The Lion King, he had been lifted high by the scientist amidst a crowd of people.

Mark Max, unusually, did not punish these Terrans for their "overstepping" behavior, nor did he express any dissatisfaction.

He could understand their excitement. Or rather, wasn't he also filled with a sense of excitement?

As Trevor Friston's "last creation," he was made when his father was already at his wit's end, and he never truly witnessed the most glorious era of prehistoric civilization. All he possessed were the vague stored information Friston had imported for him, but he had no right to even understand most of the technology, let alone recreate it.

Reality is cruel; those thresholds that others casually mention are insurmountable barriers between Mark Max and prehistoric civilization.

A person's misfortune may stem from their ignorance, but an ignorant person can also be fortunate.