Reborn in 2011, I am the chief designer of aerospace.

Mira stood at the hatch of the MEM Mars landing module model, her face clearly visible beneath the transparent visor. "Alright, Song Xingye, are you ready to go in?"

"Ready, Mira."

On this artificial Martian surface, Song Xingye deliberately slowed down his movements and took a crucial step toward the Mars landing capsule model.

Just as he struggled to move forward, the suspension harness on his chest suddenly tightened violently, pulling him upwards sharply. He staggered and nearly fell. The pressurized spacesuit, once inflated, had extremely high internal pressure, enveloping his body like a balloon. If he lost his balance, he would be completely unable to save himself.

He fell down like a felled tree.

He knelt on one knee, his hands braced against the muddy ground. The ground was covered with a layer of pink gravel, and he was on what astronauts jokingly called a "gravel pile"—a simulated Martian surface. This area was relatively flat because mission planners wanted to land the Mars lander safely on a plain.

Damn seatbelts.

"How are you feeling, Song Xingye? Do you need any help?"

No, no need, I can manage on my own.

Song Xingye was strapped to the Mars gravity simulator, his safety harness tied to a cable that led to the support above. The cable passed through a pulley system, effectively offsetting two-thirds of his weight. The feeling of gravity was exactly the same as on Mars, but there would never be such a ridiculous contraption on Mars. With every step he took, a heavy rope swayed unpredictably behind him.

To stand up straight, he had to push off the ground first, using the tension of the seatbelt to straighten his back, and then his feet kept tumbling in the mud, afraid of losing his balance and falling backward.

He finally managed to stand, his legs a little weak, his arms outstretched in vain to maintain his balance. Through his helmet, he heard the applause from the technicians.

"Ignore those people," Mira comforted her.

"Understood." He took a deep breath. "I'll try again, Mira."

"Take your time, Hoshino, this is the kind of partner I want..."

He walked slowly; in fact, in this state, lifting his foot was easy, but placing it down was difficult. With each step, he felt as if he were flying, finally landing on the ground—a feeling akin to swimming.

However, he was finally starting to get the hang of it. The weight of the life support backpack pulled him backward, and inertia kept causing him to deviate from his course. Every time he wanted to change direction, he had to plan his next four or five steps in advance.

The model of the Mars pod stood silently in front, bathed in floodlights, appearing impossibly distant. The hatch of the model was wide open, and the glow of the fluorescent lights inside illuminated its structure, which was pieced together from hardwood and plastic.

Not far from the simulation site, a full-size model of a Mars rover was parked, its dark lens rotating on a television camera mounted on its front. The camera was broadcasting live, and Song Xingye felt as if he were a gorilla pacing in a cage in front of the camera.

Mira was clearly already used to walking under simulated Martian gravity, as if she were born to adapt to this environment.

They are currently simulating their second extravehicular activity (EVA) – a Mars walk, which will be the first substantial EVA by astronauts. The first EVA will be conducted solo by Commander Sheng Tianhong and is expected to last one hour. According to the mission plan, the main purpose of the first EVA is to test the spacesuit system and overall mobility, check the status of the electromechanical equipment after landing, and resolve any potential communication system malfunctions. Sheng Tianhong will not conduct many scientific experiments during the first EVA; his role will be limited to collecting a small number of emergency surface soil samples.

Of course, there's an unspoken purpose behind this.

The eyes of the entire world will be focused on the moment when humanity first sets foot on Mars, that man's first small step. Therefore, all the pretense—planting flags, taking photos of footprints and the national flag—should ideally be completed within this first hour, so that they can hope to concentrate on serious scientific work for the rest of the time.

Song Xingye felt that this was understandable. He understood that compromises had to be made on these matters, but sometimes he still found it absurd that a space agency would have to plan a Mars exploration mission based on television ratings.

He finally made it to the outside of the fire hatch, and as he stopped at the bottom of the ladder below the hatch, he stumbled again.

The simulated supervisor's voice came through the headset: "Song Xingye, this time we want you to try disassembling the SNAP core auxiliary power system."

"Understood." He suppressed his exhaustion and irritability, and like a puppet, he tiptoed and turned around with difficulty until he was facing the Mars rover. Only then did he drag his heavy body and step over the crunching sand and gravel.

The simulated Mars surface experiment package (SEP) has been deployed, with silver and gold equipment boxes scattered on the ground, interspersed with a spiderweb of intricate power and data cables. Some lines are not yet connected, and the antenna for transmitting signals to Earth has not yet been installed. The SNAP isotope thermoelectric generator is located on one side of this small facility. Song Xingye's task is to load the plutonium fuel tank into it to start it up. This fuel tank, to be precise, is one of many simulated fuel tanks, currently wedged into the support at the rear of the rover. It is a slender cylinder about one meter long, tightly sealed inside a graphite protective container.

He grabbed a mechanical gripper, pulled the trigger, and the small jaws at the end of the gripper opened, attempting to clamp onto the fuel tank. The pressurized, elastic spacesuit gloves struggled against his fingers; trying to grip the gripper was like squeezing a hard rubber ball, and it would slip away if he wasn't careful.

After finally managing to pry open the jaws, he had to use both hands to guide it and painstakingly slip it onto the end of the fuel tank.

He tried desperately to pull the fuel canister off the support, but the damn thing was stuck there and wouldn't budge.

Suddenly, the mechanical jaws slipped off the fuel tank, and he lost his balance, staggering backward. All that could be heard inside the helmet was his breathing and the metallic scraping of the seatbelt cables.

"Any good suggestions?" he asked, panting.

"Don't rush. Let me try."

He secretly leaned against the suspension cable to catch his breath, while Mira climbed backward out of the Mars pod. Without a gravity suspension system, she could only move forward with difficulty under the pressure of her heavy spacesuit, making her movements exceptionally slow.

She climbed down the ladder and took the mechanical gripper. With Song Xingye's help, she fastened the gripper to the fuel tank and began to pull hard, her body even leaning back significantly, her heels sinking deep into the dry, hard soil, but the fuel tank still wouldn't budge.

The simulation supervisor shouted into the channel, "Hey, do you two want to take a break? That thing is really tight."

"No way," Mira said through gritted teeth. "Hoshino, let's do it simple and direct. You take this grappling hook and come here."

"Okay." He took the lever from her hand, moving extremely slowly and carefully maintaining the position to pull the trigger.

"Now." She reached down and untied the geological hammer from the strap of his belt. "Pull hard, buddy."

Song Xingye gripped the grab bar tightly with both hands, leaned back, and pulled backward with all his might.

Mira then swung the geological hammer high like a golf club swing; wearing a heavy spacesuit, she had to twist her entire body to complete this powerful strike.

With each hammer blow, Song Xingye could feel the intense vibrations coming from the fuel tank.

"It's no use."

"That's not necessarily true."

She spun around like a hammer thrower, gripped the hammer with both hands, and slammed it down on the graphite jar for the final blow.

With a crack, the graphite jar split in two.

The fuel tank finally detached, and Song Xingye staggered backward, his boots scraping wildly in the mud. He waved his arms, trying to steady himself. Fortunately, the suspension cable caught him just in time to prevent him from falling hard to the ground.

The fallen fuel canister rolled on the ground like a relay baton, landing straight into a ditch beside it.

Mira dragged her heavy steps to his side, her reflective mask obscuring her expression. "Hey, are you alright?"

"It's alright, how's the fuel tank?"

The two bent down to examine the small metal cylinder lying in the pink pebbles. They noticed a thin crack along the metal seam.

"Well done," Mira said mockingly. "Now we've detonated a nuclear bomb on Mars."

"Fortunately, this is just a model; the real thing should be much sturdier."

"I hope so."

"Alright, everyone," the simulation supervisor announced over the channel, "telemetry data shows that your heart rates are both high. That ordeal just now was definitely tough. Rest for five minutes, then we'll fast forward to the next hour and continue."

The science director stormed into the simulation arena, yelling furiously, "Damn it, you've messed it up again, Song Xingye! You've ruined my precious SEP again, and you've gone way over time by half an hour!"

Song Xingye had already removed his helmet and was sitting on an all-terrain Mars rover. With the helmet on his lap and a cup of coffee in his hand, he smiled at the science director: "Don't be so nervous, director, this is just a simulation."

The supervisor, though short in stature, exuded an imposing aura. His chubby, oily face was now flushed red as he paced back and forth on the gravel-covered simulated Martian surface, kicking up clouds of dust. "But this is already my third failure in the last three SEP deployment drills..."

The recent training intensity was extremely high, and the tight schedule forced Song Xingye and his teammates to train for up to eighteen hours a day for several weeks in a row. Watching his supervisor endlessly pacing back and forth, his patience was wearing thin. "I don't have the energy to argue with you here, supervisor." But out of politeness, he still had to give an explanation.

“Listen,” he said patiently to his supervisor, “I understand your frustration, but you have to face reality, supervisor. On Earth, you have plenty of time for fieldwork, even days or weeks to meticulously analyze samples. But in space, it’s a completely different story. Each Mars extravehicular activity lasts only a few hours, even shorter than the Apollo moon landing missions. So we have to be precise down to the second. These simulations are, in fact,,” he waved his hand, searching for the right word, “a kind of rehearsal. This is completely different from your usual work style; in the aerospace industry, it’s called ‘timeline operations.’”

The supervisor was furious, jumping up and down. "Damn it! I have to write a formal memo to complain. The whole operation is a complete mess. Those people in flight control don't know how to plan a mission scientifically at all!"

"But that's the point of simulation training, Supervisor. We want to expose any potential problems beforehand." A slight smile involuntarily appeared on Song Xingye's lips, but he quickly suppressed it. "I'm sorry, Supervisor. I understand how you feel, really."

The supervisor stared at him. "Oh, really? Then why haven't you completely sided with those bureaucrats who control tasks?"

Song Xingye frowned: "That's very unfair."

The supervisor's anger seemed to have subsided slightly. He sat down beside the Mars rover, his figure appearing even smaller compared to the astronaut's bulky white pressure suit. "Song Xingye, I think I need to inform you in advance that I plan to withdraw from this project."

Song Xingye was taken aback. "You can't do this." The supervisor was the chief geological researcher for this Mars exploration mission; if he withdrew halfway through, the scientific value of the entire mission would be greatly diminished. "Don't be impulsive, supervisor."

"Oh, I'm not joking. I've basically made up my mind." He surveyed the enormous indoor sandpit with a somber expression. "In fact, today's absurdity has made me completely resolute. And Song Xingye, if you have any conscience as a scientist, you should resign."

Are you crazy, manager? We finally managed to send a real scientist to Mars, and you're going to back out?

The supervisor shook his head: "No, in this system, you're at best a senior technician. Hoshino, the 'God Seeker' mission is indeed perfect in terms of engineering operations, but in terms of scientific exploration, it's a complete tragedy of the Apollo program. Look at these."

He waved his hand vigorously, pointing to the vast simulation area: "Look at all this so-called high-tech equipment we'll be using on Mars—pulleys, cables, modular equipment transport vehicles, that broken-down vehicle that looks like a beach toy, and the rover that can't even carry a few hundred pounds. Not to mention how you were clumsily fiddling with that ridiculous grab bar like a clown, wearing those balloon-like gloves!"

He was clearly furious. "Hoshino, just open your eyes and look around, and you'll see how absurdly the budget has been tilted. Do you know that the space agency has spent more money developing a flag fabric that can withstand the harsh conditions of Mars than my entire SEP project budget!"

"Operability." When the supervisor uttered this word, his tone was full of disdain, as if it were a vulgar swear word. Song Xingye had thought that if he were in the supervisor's position, he might also be just as cynical. But being on the front lines, he saw the necessary compromises. Any space program, especially a risky project like the "Search God" Mars landing that pushed the limits of the budget, had to be a combination of engineering operability and scientific research. Because in the harshness of space, without foolproof operability, all the lofty scientific principles would be nothing but empty talk.