Will the kemonomimi encounter Alien Ranch Story?

"Well, it's not entirely unaffected, but at least it doesn't affect most of the growth and harvesting process."

The seasonal effects of planetary revolution are considered the lowest level of interference in interstellar agriculture. Daytime temperatures of 50 degrees Celsius and nighttime temperatures of -40 degrees Celsius are the norm for planets in the universe.

Moreover, it belongs to the "livable" type, and this kind of land-like environment is simply a cosmic treasure.

Therefore, crops that cannot overcome seasonal changes, drought, extreme low and high temperatures, or strong ultraviolet radiation cannot be widely planted. Any crop labeled "suitable for outdoor planting" is an "adaptive crop" that ignores the changing seasons and grows on its own.

The trade-off of adaptive growth is that it contains excessive hormones and a large amount of redundant genetic information, grows slower, has lower yields, and has high requirements for water and fertilizer.

"But what about the bees? Why are there still bees this season!?"

"Aren't black bees available all year round?" Talulah was also a little confused. She used to be a noble lady who did not engage in productive labor, and now she had only come into contact with black bees on farms, so she thought that all bees could be active all year round.

"It's almost winter, where are all these bees coming from?!" One of the technicians in the team who came to investigate looked like he was about to go crazy.

"Does this bee also produce honey year-round?"

"No, that's not it. They only flower during their flowering season. Otherwise, we feed them with fermented plant juice mixed with sugar. However, they produce a lot of honey."

A bee that doesn't eat honey at all, a ruthless honey-making machine. Theoretically, this bee should be the size of a small beagle, buoyed by air sacs and propelled by methane, resembling a balloon.

It's just that the original design was too... negatively impacting honey sales, so it was changed to its current inefficient form—it's just an artificial biomechanical machine that looks like a bee.

"How big is it?" The experienced captain asked after regaining his composure. "During a flowering season, a single beehive weighs at least 2 tons. If we don't grow flowers, it's much less, around 700 or 800 kilograms." Talulah thought for a moment.

Otherwise, where did all those honey cakes at the farm restaurant come from, as well as the pile of honey wine, honey candy, and other honey-processed products from the previously registered "White Rabbit Honey" brand? They even mainly supply wineries, a situation commonly known as: if you don't have the technology, you make up for it with blending.

The wine they made from scraps was actually of very poor quality. But the addition of honey, spices, molasses, and a touch of herbal extracts made it all worthwhile.

Those who haven't seen the blending process believe that "Snowfield Specialty Black Tea" is the best liquor in Ursus. It has a black tea color, a rich aroma, a very delicate floral fragrance, a slightly sweet aftertaste, and a smooth and mellow taste.

Most importantly, apart from professional sommeliers, no one can tell the difference between this and mid-to-high-end liquors on the market. Even those whose taste buds have become dulled due to alcoholism think it tastes much better than mid-range liquors on the market. The cost of this liquor is only half that of inferior rural liquors, and the selling price is only slightly higher than the lowest-end inferior liquors. Even with shipping costs included, it is still lower than ordinary mid-range liquors.

As a result, before the sugar merchants even died, the wineries in Syracuse were devastated and left in a state of utter chaos.

Imagine a bottle of wine that costs a couple hundred dollars, but tastes like it's from a high-end winery, and then 15 tons of it are flooding the market… The only reason it hasn't been bombarded with angry protests is because the nobility are trying to save face for the sake of their image.

"Two tons of honeycomb?"

"Look, that's it!" After seeing the giant thing that looked like a watchtower, everyone calmed down a bit and regained their shaky senses. Although it was exaggerated to extract 2 tons of honey from a beehive of this size, it wasn't too exaggerated.

Compared to black bees, which are disguised as honeybees but have absolutely no relation to any type of bee in terms of biochemical reactions and genetics, farm cows, beef cattle, and horses are much more normal.

Needless to say, cows can be used to make milk artificially. No wet processing is required. Insect protein, trace element additives, flavorings, colorings, thickeners, and artificial milk fat can be used to create "synthetic milk" with stable quality and better nutritional value than natural milk.

Moreover, most people can't taste the difference, and the cost isn't actually that much higher. The only problem is that the label must say "synthetic milk," not "milk."

According to some Covenant Soul Eaters, it doesn't smell like natural milk—however, double-blind tests have proven that this is purely psychological.

This means that unless there are absolutely no artificial pastures nearby, synthetic milk is basically difficult to sell, and people dare not label it as natural. This is probably similar to the concept of "organic vegetables" in modern society.

Since it is an agricultural colony, it certainly wouldn't order such synthetic materials and equipment, otherwise wouldn't that ruin its own reputation?

So, Lao Xia didn't think about the possibility of artificial synthesis for the time being. Besides, destroying the dairy market wouldn't do him any good. Even if it were natural milk, he could still supply it, so there was no need to take such a shortcut.

What is the milk production here?

“Each cow produces about 1 liters of milk per year. However, this requires very good care. In reality, it’s only about 8000 liters per year, as the Ursus climate is not very suitable for them,” Talulah said with some regret.

Although this number is quite good, since the maximum milk production of a normal dairy cow is only about 7000-8000 liters per year.

In reality, due to factors such as breed, feeding, climate, and environment, it is generally not possible to achieve this, and the quality of the milk is also relatively poor.

The cattle and horses passed by quickly, because, in appearance alone, they were not much different from the pastures of Kazimierz, as were the sheep.

The centralized production of laying hens did surprise people a little, but not too much.

This was only the first day of the visit. They would go deeper into understanding the farm's technical capabilities and output. However, most people, including the team leader, felt that the subsequent visits were unnecessary.

That very evening, the captain drafted a long letter. Aside from the necessary pleasantries and reports, the rest of the letter boiled down to one thing: "Send money! Send money immediately, no matter what you're doing, send money right now!"

Investing in agriculture here is a sure way to make a profit; that's the first reaction of anyone with even a slight understanding of agriculture and animal husbandry.

What's the point of even investigating this? It's a good thing that Lao Xia didn't go public to raise funds in order to ensure absolute control over the farm and the group.

Otherwise, the only advice I can give the Swire family is, "Buy it all now! It'll be too late if you don't buy it now!"

"The marriage alliance with Beatrice really paid off." Big Tiger nodded slightly as he looked at the report. At this moment, he was the patriarch of the family and could only consider the interests of the family and the group. If it weren't for the share swap in the marriage alliance, he wouldn't even be able to force an investment in Old Xia's business.

"But when will those two get married?" Now that his time as clan leader is over, Tiger is really looking forward to having grandchildren. "Honestly, these young people these days are always so slow. When I was their age, I was already..."

"Ahem, sir, please do not discuss irrelevant matters during working hours."

"..."

Meanwhile, in the Rhode Island medical room, "beep—" the medical equipment made a rhythmic sound. The man lying in the ICU struggled to open his eyelids. The effects of the anesthetic had finally worn off. In front of him was an unfamiliar ceiling and unfamiliar people.

"Doctor, you're awake?"

“Uh…” The man’s eyes were vacant, and it took him a while to regain focus as he stared at the silver-haired doctor in front of him, remaining silent as if trying to remember who the other person was.

"Doctor?" The man finally managed to utter a dry voice, "Who...is it?"

"You don't remember your own name or your past?"

"Uh..." "Okay, I'll examine you again, it might hurt a little."

Warfarin stared at the man for a long time before finally giving up. He called a caregiver to move the bed to the equipment room, preparing for a more detailed examination.

“Organic nerve damage leads to memory impairment…” Kal'tsit fell silent, “…”

"Can it be restored?"

"It's highly unlikely. The examination results show severe blood loss, leading to memory impairment due to brain hypoxia. Or rather, it's caused by organic necrosis of the brain's memory neurons. In fact, the fact that he's still alive instead of brain dead is already... a miracle..."

According to the warfarin test results, the doctor's brain and body were severely damaged. He was only alive because of his own physical condition and the repair provided by the medical pod.

"But we can't rule out a small probability of recovery, right?" Kal'tsit knew the answer herself, but still asked.

"Yes, theoretically so. We don't know much about the brain. It might be able to repair itself over time, but even if a miracle happens, it will take a very, very long time."

“It’s alright, we don’t need him for the time being.” Kal’tsit sighed. “Hopefully, he has only forgotten us, and his past talents are still with him.”

A few days later, "Doctor..."

"I... I don't remember this is my name." The man frowned deeply. He didn't remember his own name, nor his past. He only had a vague sense of familiarity and strange emotions towards the few people in front of him who were supposedly his old friends. However, he couldn't even recall how he had interacted with them.

“It’s a good thing you don’t remember names, after all…” Kal’tsit seemed to want to explain something.

However, she swallowed the rest of her words and instead said something that sounded slightly sarcastic: "After all, you're not the same person you used to be. After all these years, everything has changed."

"Really? Not having a name is a good thing..." The Doctor looked at his hands. "So, what did I do in the past?"

"There's no need to care about that anymore. You've survived, and Rhodes Island is still here. The past... has nothing to do with you anymore."

Kal'tsit gave a cold reply; she didn't want to do it this way. But every time she saw this guy's innocent face, she felt a surge of nameless anger.

He refused to say anything at the time—his origins, his purpose, his plans. Only he and Theresa knew the full picture, and everyone else was just a tool. He said it was for safety, but what was the result?

Now he's awake, but he tells himself he remembers nothing, knows nothing, it's simply...

"coward!"

"What did you just do?" "Nothing," Kal'tsit replied with a normal expression. "Since you don't remember anything, we'll need to test you again to see what you actually remember."

A "good" man doesn't object; he never objects to such reasonable advice.

"It seems his personality hasn't changed... only his memories are gone. How long can this remnant of his past personality remain?" Kal'tsit frowned slightly as she watched the man's departing figure. "Hopefully, it's not the worst-case scenario I'm thinking of."

In the Rhodes Island training room, "Let's start with a test. How much of your tactical knowledge do you remember?"

"Tactics?" The doctor was puzzled. Judging from the name "doctor," he must be some kind of scholar. Why would he be testing this?

“First, there’s the type of operator. This is a sniper operator, using ranged weapons like crossbows and guns. They are responsible for…” “This isn’t a gun,” the doctor said, unsure why he was so certain. “Whatever it is, it’s definitely not a gun.”

He picked up the weapon from the other man's hand, awkwardly yet skillfully pulling back the bolt, cocking the gun, raising it, and pulling the trigger. Nothing happened, and he was stunned.

"I...I might have confused something..."

“This is definitely not a gun, you’re not mistaken. But, it seems you remember something…” Kal’tsit stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.

"That was made by Boss Xia, a weapon he calls a rifle. So, you're actually from the same place, the Star Alliance, right?"

“No, I have no recollection of it. I’m not from there…” The doctor shook his head.

"Is it that you still don't remember?"

“No, I know I remember what you’ve been talking about before, but when I try to recall it, it’s all a blank. No matter how hard I try, I can’t find a single fragment. It’s like an empty space. But the name you just mentioned—I have absolutely no recollection of it. I’ve never heard of it before.”

The doctor's answer this time was very certain: "So, you must be mistaken."

"Is that so?" Kal'tsit was somewhat surprised. It seemed that she had guessed wrong about the Doctor's true origins.

However, one thing is certain: "Although you may come from different places or factions, you recognize this weapon called a rifle, right?"

"I'm not entirely sure..." the doctor thought for a moment, "I don't know, maybe that's it. Shall we continue?"

"Go on, let me see how much of the dregs of the past you still have!"

Chapter Fifty-Nine is what we call a total crop failure.

Chapter 59

At dawn, the bagpipes are sounded. The farm's rule is that we have to get up and work when the rooster crows, around 5 or 6 a.m. Then we tidy up our belongings, and around 6 a.m. we go to the shunting yard to inspect the vehicles and tools. Around 6:30 or 7 a.m., we set off for the farmland planting area where we work.

Once we arrived at our destination, we set up a small stove to heat up our breakfast and started eating. After eating, we rested for about ten minutes before officially starting our work.

Around noon, someone delivered meals and electrolyte drinks. The sweet drink, made with corn syrup, synthetic cellulose, and electrolytes, was the best way to replenish energy.

Although farms have become increasingly mechanized, manual labor still accounts for a huge amount. Even the team with Lao Xia's Bull truck, which doesn't need to manually bundle the goods, still needs to throw the bundled items onto the truck.

Not to mention, the bagpipes team doesn't have that kind of easy life at all; they have to manually pack everything, then load it onto trolleys, and deliver it truck by truck to the trucks nearby—all heavy physical labor. However, the good news is that it's late autumn in Ursus, and the sun hangs listlessly on the horizon.

The environment north of Ursus is similar to that of Moscow, but further north, the polar day and polar night create two unique celestial phenomena: long nights and white nights.

In fact, many people don't know that on Earth, white nights can already occur north of Paris, at latitudes that are actually... quite high.

A cold wind carrying a wisp of snow continued to blow across the fields, where a thick layer of dense blue plants covered the ground.

"This is 'Night Mushroom,' a type of bio-nitrogen fertilizer. It can also be used as animal feed and processing raw material. When harvesting, you need to pay attention to adjusting the harvester mode," the instructor who was explaining to the bagpipes and leading the team pointed to the densely packed buttons on the control panel. "Depth is +1, if you're harvesting wheat it's +3, potatoes it's -7. I've pasted these settings and their corresponding crops here for you."

Although most of the farm workers were illiterate, not all of them were. There were quite a few who were only literate enough to write a note.

"Click-clack-clack—" Amid the sound of gears turning, the harvesting truss slowly descended. "The harvesting of night mushrooms must start from the side. You can't drive in directly, because they can't be rolled into the hopper. Moreover, they need to be dried until the excess moisture evaporates and overflows before they can be truly harvested."

This blue stuff is a slime mold, not even a mushroom, but something like a type of fungus. It forms a thick, terrifying dark blue layer on the ground, which is wet and soft when you step on it, like a layer of living flesh.