Rebirth: Starting from Lighting Up the Tech Tree

On Zuo Weiyang's third birthday, one of the gifts she received was a picture that appeared completely black under any light. But Zuo Weiyang stared at it for a long time, then looked up and said, "They are breathing." The whole room fell silent.

Three tables were set up in the small garden of the 402 headquarters. The osmanthus flowers were in bloom, their fragrance mingling with the sweet aroma of baking cakes. The entire core team was present, and Han Lu placed a thick book, large enough to be used as a brick, on top of the pile of gifts. The book was titled "Illustrated Guide to the Web-Weaving Civilization Community."

The book contains fifty-one illustrations, each from a civilization that responded to humanity's global web broadcast. The listeners sent a bright blue star that twinkled like an eye—their home planet. The builders sent a bridge spanning two planets, woven from fibers that changed color at different temperatures. The observer's gift was inexplicable. The illustration printed in pure black, the web translation system noting that it contained dimensions of information imperceptible to the human visual system.

Han Lu rolled her eyes and said, "What's the difference between this and the instruction manual suggesting that you can fly?"

Zuo Weiyang reached out and took the picture, looked at it for about ten seconds, and then said in a very calm tone: They are breathing.

Yu Ying squatted down and asked her: Who is breathing?

Zuo Weiyang pointed to the completely black image: the people living inside. They kept breathing. No one just looked at them. Now someone has looked.

Shen Yiming's holographic projection lit up at that moment. He sent birthday wishes from the Pioneer spacecraft in near-Earth orbit, and the holographic image was so clear that the curved surface of the blue planet behind him could be seen.

"Weiyang, three years ago, on the day you were born, I was leaving this planet." His voice was calm and unhurried. I went around in circles and returned to where I started. But the starting point was much larger than when I set out. So much larger that the entire solar system before your birth couldn't compare to the vast world that humanity has seen since your birth.

Zuo Weiyang reached out to touch the projection, her fingers passing through the light and shadow. She paused for a moment, then withdrew her hand and said to the air, "Uncle, when are you coming down?"

Shen Yiming didn't answer. His image flickered, and the projection disappeared. Zuo Weiyang looked at the vanished point of light, then turned to Yu Ying and asked, "Is Uncle still in heaven?"

Yu Ying said: Yes, it's still in the sky.

As the candles were lit, Zuo Weiyang sang "Happy Birthday" loudly, though her pitch was a bit off. She blew out the candles too forcefully, spraying cream all over her face. Han Lu laughed and helped wipe her face, while Chen Hao filmed her with his phone. At that moment, Zuo Cheng, sitting beside her, watching his daughter's silly grin with cream all over her face, suddenly felt that this was more important than the entire network broadcast.

The birthday party ended in the evening. People gradually left the garden, and Zuo Cheng and Yu Ying sat on a bench under the osmanthus tree. Zuo Weiyang fell asleep in Yu Ying's arms, osmanthus petals falling on her hair.

Yu Ying asked him: Do you want to fly?

Zuo Cheng remained silent for a long time. So long that Yu Ying thought he wouldn't answer.

I don't want to fly. Because I'm afraid of leaving her. He paused here. But if I don't fly, she'll ask me why. When her classmates tell her that her father was the first human to speak with ninety-two extraterrestrial civilizations, she'll ask me what I said to them. I'll say, "Hello." And then? Then your father stays on Earth, waiting for others to knock on their doors. This isn't the father I want her to remember.

Yu Ying looked down at Zuo Weiyang, who was sleeping in her arms, and brushed away the hair stuck to her daughter's face with her fingers.

From the day you asked me at the library if I'd like to do a project, I knew you would fly away. Not fly away, but fly forward. Your mission is to fly forward. Zuo Weiyang and I are to make sure that when you fly to a place, someone will already be there to pick you up. It doesn't necessarily have to be a shuttle station she built herself, but she'll be waiting for you in the web she's weaving. She was already waiting for you in the web before she was even born.

She looked up at Zuo Cheng. So fly. Don't worry that she'll forget you. You were the first sound she learned. In the web, in the home port, on all ninety-two planets. Your voice was her first.

Zuo Cheng held Yu Ying's hand without speaking. Another layer of osmanthus blossoms fell. Zuo Weiyang turned over in her sleep, reached out her little hand to grab it, and then put it back.

The next morning, Shen Yiming sent an application from the Forward, requesting to join the Xinghai expedition team as the chief engineer of the deep space communication and web relay system.

The application reason was only two lines long. Last time, I flew for four years and witnessed humanity journey from the inner solar system to its edge. This time, I'm flying for eight years, and I want to see humanity journey from the solar system to another star.

Zuo Cheng approved it.

At the end of his reply, Shen Yiming wrote a note: This time it's not a version, nor an answer sheet. It's a prologue.

Zuo Cheng replied: What comes after the prologue?

Shen Yiming replied faster than ever before. She. Her name is Zuo Weiyang. Not the Forerunner. The true owner of the Starsea. The meaning of our eight years of flying wasn't to reach the destination. It was so that her generation wouldn't need to fly when they arrived.

That night, after Zuo Weiyang fell asleep, Zuo Cheng lingered in the Web of Consciousness for a while. He saw Zuo Weiyang's consciousness signal. She wasn't in the position of member number five; she was scattered amidst the background noise of all nine Web nodes. Her consciousness wasn't concentrated on any one node; it was dispersed. It was like pouring a cup of water into a river; the water was still there, but it was impossible to distinguish which part was water and which part was the river.

Zuo Cheng realized something. Zuo Weiyang wasn't connecting to the web. She was becoming the web. The network had been a part of her since birth. In her mind, the web wasn't a tool, an environment, or technology. It was the senses themselves. She used the web to see, hear, and perceive, as naturally as others use their eyes to see light.

He shut down the consciousness network and wrote a line in his log: "We spent eleven years activating eleven branches. She activated the twelfth in three years. Not the twelfth branch of the technology tree. The twelfth branch of humanity. The ability to touch the universe without being chosen."

Outside the window, the Pioneer's tracklight slowly streaked across the night sky. It had already circled thousands of times, and it would continue to circle. It wasn't in a hurry. It knew someone would take its place. But the spaceship that would take its place was still lying in the final assembly workshop, its engines not yet warmed up, and its crew not yet boarded.

But its captain had already made a decision. Not whether to fly or not. But which direction to fly in. The fragrance of osmanthus wafted in through the cracks in the window. Zuo Weiyang turned over in the next room, hummed, and then fell silent again. Like a melody only she could hear in the weaving of a web. Like a song that was not yet finished.