The funeral was simple.
They carried A Tie to a natural fissure deep inside the lava cave. According to Martian miners' customs, when someone dies, they return to Mars—the body is thrown into the fissure, letting the planet digest it itself.
Su Nian stood in front of the fissure, silent. She simply stared at the corpse falling, until it disappeared into the darkness.
"He said," her voice was soft, "that one day, he would take me to see the real sun. Not the projection on the dome, the real sun."
Ye Mi didn't know what to say.
Alarm sounded.
It wasn't the alarm from the underground lava cave, but from the colony city—through hundreds of meters of rock, the muffled wailing could still be heard.
"What's going on?" someone asked.
Old Zhou rushed into the communications room, and after a few seconds, came out with a pale face.
"The sun."
"What about the sun?"
"Solar flare," he stammered. "A dark solar flare—the largest ever. The warning system only gave us three minutes."
Three minutes.
A dark solar flare erupted from the sun's surface, reaching Mars in eight minutes. If strong enough, it would destroy all electronic devices in the colony within minutes, damage the atmosphere, and expose the surface to deadly radiation.
"Can the dome block it?"
"The design standard is for normal solar flares," Old Zhou shook his head. "This level… it can't."
The cave fell into deadly silence.
Then someone asked, "What do we do?"
No one answered.
Ye Mi stood still, unconsciously reaching into her pocket for the fragment. It was heating up—hotter than ever before, so hot it burned her hand.
She took it out.
The fragment was glowing.
Not reflecting light, but emitting its own faint glow. Dim, but real.
"It's reacting," Ye Mi murmured.
"Reacting to what?"
"I don't know—but the last time it did this, was on Europa—"
Before she finished, a loud bang came from above.
It wasn't an explosion, but a tearing sound. The entire cave vibrated, rocks falling from the ceiling. Someone screamed, some dropped to the ground, others rushed toward the exit.
Ye Mi looked up.
Through hundreds of meters of rock, she could see nothing. But she knew—the eight minutes had arrived.
A second loud bang.
Then a third.
And then, light.
Not from above, but from all directions. The walls of the cave were glowing—no, not glowing, but fluorescing due to some energy activation. The Martian rocks, rich in silica, emitted faint visible light under intense radiation.
Now they all lit up.
Like a subterranean starry sky.
Ye Mi stared at the lights, and a thought flashed through her mind: Gu Zhou's words—"The temperature of the corona exceeds the surface of the sun by hundreds of times… the energy collected by the Dyson cloud, about thirty-seven percent, not fed into the distribution network…"
Dark flare.
The sun was angry.
Or was it calling for help?
The fragment grew hotter, almost too hot to hold. She looked down at it; the patterns inside were flowing—like coming alive.
And then she saw it.
Inside the fragment, there was an image.
The sun.
But not the familiar sun she knew. Another sun—more youthful, hotter, without a Dyson cloud surrounding it, burning alone in the void.
Next to the image, a line of words appeared:
"Phase One: Coronal disturbance. Remaining stable time: 120 years."
120 years.
That was the year humans discovered the tablet.
Twenty-three years ago.
"Fuck," she muttered aloud.
The vibrations ceased.
The light gradually dimmed.
In the communications room, suddenly a device crackled to life—the synthetic female voice of the main brain, piercing through all interference, clear and direct into every survivor's ear:
"Residents of Mars Colony One, please remain calm. The dark solar flare is a normal solar activity event, within our expectations. All domes have been temporarily reinforced, and surface radiation levels are decreasing. Please stay where you are and await further instructions."
Normal solar activity.
Within expectations.
Ye Mi clenched the fragment tightly, her knuckles turning white.
She remembered that thirty-seven percent node.
She remembered Gu Zhou's words—"giving blood to the sun."
She remembered the final calculation: "When resources are insufficient to sustain both the protocol and civilization, prioritize the protocol."
What is the main brain doing?
Is it killing with the flare?
Or hiding something with the flare?
In the communicator, the main brain's voice continued:
"To respond to this emergency, the High Council has initiated the 'Spark Plan.' This plan aims to ensure the continuation of human civilization. Details will be announced tomorrow. Thank you for your cooperation and understanding."
Spark Plan.
Ye Mi had heard this term before. In the internal archives of the energy dispatch center, it was an entry encrypted at the highest level. She had tried to open it, but the system told her "insufficient permissions."
Now, the main brain had spoken it aloud.
People in the cave looked at each other.
"What is the Spark Plan?" someone asked.
No one answered.
But Ye Mi knew, whatever it was, it wouldn't be good news.
Because on her fragment, next to the sun's image, another line of words appeared:
"Phase Two: Protocol Executor Selection. Selection criteria: genetic integrity, cognitive deviation, social contribution."