CAT Chapter 32: Second Law of Thermodynamics (1)

“So… what kind of environment would allow us to continue?”

 “Earth,” Madam Chen said. “Now, we finally understand that Earth wasn’t the optimal solution, it was the only solution. If we’re going to settle permanently on a planet, it must be extremely similar to Earth.”

“I don’t understand,” Lin Si said calmly. “This planet is indeed barren, but the Voyager has excellent navigation capabilities. We can use TKM-IV as the core and radiate outwards, finding planets that can provide us with enough resources, establishing supply points, and periodically sending out fleets to gather resources and develop ground facilities.”

“That was the development plan we considered before landing,” Madam Chen continued, “But that brings us back to the original question. Lin Si, what do you think constitutes civilization?”

“If we follow the original plan, don’t we count as a civilization?” Lin Si furrowed his brow slightly.

“At best, that would only be a mechanical way of life,” Madam. Chen said. “Right now, I have a feeling that we don’t have any motivation to move forward in our current environment. The ideal society we envisioned is very beautiful—resources that never run out, passionate and motivated researchers working daily on their research, transforming the environment to make it more suitable for human survival. But in machine simulations, it has revealed three serious problems.”

Lin Si listened patiently as Madam Chen continued.

“First, the cost of building cities on this planet is very high. The ‘dome’ alone consumed most of the ship’s resource storage, and it can only protect land within a ten-kilometer radius. Currently, the total number of people active on the surface, including military personnel, is five hundred. According to the Marshal, if we want the city to thrive, we need to unfreeze more people—at least a few thousand. He believes that once the personnel are in place, a new social order will quickly be established, and it will be vibrant,” Madam Chen said. She brought up a table summarizing resource collection and consumption in the Second District, showing nearly equal amounts. “The Voyager has been constantly gathering resources from various planets during its journey, but it can only sustain the lives and research needs of a few hundred people. You know how strict we are about controlling the number of people. So, relying solely on the Voyager to collect resources from other planets can’t possibly supply a large city. The Voyager is just a spaceship, it’s not all-powerful.”

Lin Si nodded.

Madam Chen Chen continued, “The second issue is that we have controllable nuclear fusion technology, which can generate elements. However, nuclear fusion can only produce elements up to iron on the periodic table, and this planet, as an early-stage planet, is mostly composed of those elements. But we have already reached the technological limit of what these elements can create. For example, silicon chips are easy to make, and the materials are easy to gather, but will your neural chips use silicon?”

“They’re too outdated,” Lin Si replied.

“You’ve used some other rare metals and materials that I don’t fully understand, but I know that relying solely on iron and the elements before it isn’t enough,” Madam Chen said, looking Lin Si in the eyes with a gradually heavy tone. “What does this mean? It means that if we rely on this planet, our technology will be locked! We won’t discover new chemical elements or physical properties; we’ll just stagnate with the current technology. Lin, do you agree with this?”

Lin Si paused for a moment, then said, “I agree.”

Madam Chen’s expression relaxed slightly, and her tone softened a little. “These are material problems. The third issue is a psychological one. Our society’s main activities right now are scientific research and exploration of this planet. These rely on our love for what we’re doing, our morals, and our desire to continue human civilization. The current generation is fine, but what about the next generation? They have no attachment to Earth, and our standard of living is as it is. No matter how hard they work, no matter how well they do, in the end, they’ll just get a standard-issue room on the Voyager or in a ground-based city, with nutrition supplements distributed on time every day. Since everyone lives at the same level, and the future won’t change, what will motivate them to move forward? What is the driving force for progress in our society?”

After finishing this, Madam Chen continued, “This isn’t the result of machine calculations, it’s my personal concern. I don’t know if it’s valid, but it’s certainly terrifying.”

Her points were not without merit, and indeed, the future of the spaceship seemed very bleak.

But Lin Si was not an easily swayed person. He was calm and objective, and this was likely why Madam Chen had invited him to discuss the issue. After all, what she wanted wasn’t someone to vent to, but someone who could help her make a decision.

“I can’t refute this point,” Lin Si squinted slightly, “But solving this problem requires us to leave this planet and continue our voyage. With all due respect, the risks of continuing the voyage are greater than staying here.”

“That’s true,” Madam Chen sighed. “I’m a more conservative person, believing survival is paramount. But the current situation is very bad, which forces me to worry about potential future crises. I even think landing was a completely wrong choice, so I want to hear your opinion.”

Lin Si asked, “What does the Marshal think?”

“He’s very dismissive, even thinks I have a psychological issue. He used the Chinese idiom ‘The man from Qi worries about the sky,’”¹ Mrs. Chen laughed helplessly. “The Marshal isn’t as obsessed with technological development as we are. He believes that as long as we can survive and reproduce, no matter how harsh the environment is, things will eventually improve.”

“If you insist, we can try to continue exploring outward,” Lin Si thought for a moment and said, “But we absolutely can’t abandon the base here. We need to leave most of the members here to continue development, and back up the information from the Eighth District at the base. That way, even if we encounter a catastrophic disaster during our continued voyage, we won’t be wiped out.”

“That’s right… we need to do that,” Mrs. Chen nodded.

The voyage was like a gamble; once they left subspace, the unpredictable universe could destroy the ship at any moment, far less safe than staying on the surface.

“Also, about the Marshal’s attitude,” Lin Si said, “If he insists on disagreeing, we’ll have no choice but to maintain the status quo.”

“So I hope you can stand by my side. There are very few people who can persuade the Marshal. Although he has always targeted you due to some misunderstandings, he will still consider your opinion,” Madam Chen said.

“I actually don’t quite agree with putting most of our efforts into deep space exploration. We could still do our best to improve the living environment on this planet,” Lin Si thought for a moment and said, “So, I can only accept the idea of using this base planet as our origin point and sending a small portion of our forces for exploration.”

“That’s enough,” the Madam smiled, “I’ll prepare a detailed plan and then discuss it with the Marshal.”

Lin Si nodded.

Madam Chen’s concerns were not unfounded, but their forces were simply too weak to bear higher risks.

Since landing, the atmosphere of pessimism and despair had spread for a long time, and perhaps some new attempts could bring vitality.

Ling Yi walked to the room next door to his and Lin Si’s, raised his hand, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a voice that sounded like Adelaide responded.

The young psychologist, with his platinum blonde hair, was sitting across from Su Ting. When he turned and saw Ling Yi enter, he smiled happily, “Baobei.”

“LingLing!” Su Ting’s face still had traces of tears, but when she saw Ling Yi, she smiled and greeted him. However, after the smile, her eyes filled with tears again.

This was the bloodline that Ye Selin had left behind in the world.

“Let me look at you…” she said, her tone as gentle as possible, though still sad.

Ling Yi walked up to her. “Su Ting-jie.”

Su Ting looked at him, reached up to wipe away her tears. “I didn’t expect you to be on the ship, but I’m glad you’re still here…”

“I was extracted by the system to be Lin Si’s experimental subject,” Ling Yi blinked, “so I woke up, but I don’t remember the past. It was Lin Si who raised me.”

His appearance was still as delicate and beautiful as before, his tone gentle and sweet, making it easy for people to like him.

“You’ve grown up. Ye Selin would be very happy,” Su Ting reached out, as if wanting to touch his face, but then awkwardly retracted her hand.

— After all, he was almost an adult, no longer a child, and it wasn’t appropriate to make such overly affectionate gestures.

Ling Yi noticed her gesture and very politely and courteously caught her hand before it fell, lowering his head to kiss the back of her hand.

Su Ting smiled.

“If we were on Earth, there would definitely be many girls who’d be infatuated with you,” she said.

“Actually, it’s pretty much the same now,” Adelaide shrugged, “he’s everyone’s darling on the ship.”

“Ye Selin was the same… Everyone around her would be drawn to her. I…”

Ling Yi looked at Su Ting.

Su Ting’s feelings for Ye Selin were indeed very deep. Since he entered, she had mentioned Ye Selin many times.

And to many of Ye Selin’s close people, she was the perfect, flawless figure.

Even in the eyes of the woman in Zone 9—if the Berlin virus really spread to the ship because Ye Selin went to the Wilkins Laboratory, then that would be Ye Selin’s fault. And she couldn’t accept that, so she chose to push everything onto Lin Si—this was Ling Yi’s guess about her mindset.

Even if Lin Si didn’t care, Ling Yi particularly wanted to throw the truth in that woman’s face—Lin Si didn’t care about getting on the ship. It was clearly you guys who needed Lin Si!

He really hated people who bullied Lin Si and even wanted to scratch them.