Twenty-four hours later, the announcement arrived.
All screens—massive projections above the colony city's dome, household terminals in residential areas, even the old radios secretly kept in the underground caves by Old Zhou—simultaneously broadcast the same footage.
The speaker was the Chairperson of the High Council, standing at the podium, behind him a gigantic emblem of civilization: a sun encircled by three halos, symbolizing the past, present, and future.
"Comrades," the Chairperson's voice was solemn and heavy, "we have just experienced the greatest solar activity in the history of civilization. The intensity of the solar flare exceeded all predicted models, causing varying degrees of damage to Mars, the Moon, and our orbital colonies."
The scene shifted to data charts. Casualty numbers: 12,847. Economic losses: incalculable.
"But humanity will not be defeated," the Chairperson's tone grew firm. "For two hundred years, we have journeyed from Earth into space, from a Level One civilization to a Level Two civilization. We built Dyson clouds, we conquered the solar system. One solar flare will not bring us down."
Applause sounded—recorded applause, synchronized at every broadcast point.
"Therefore, the High Council has decided to launch the 'Seed of Fire' plan."
The scene changed again.
A massive spaceship appeared on the screen. Sleek hull, enormous thrusters, the words "Ark" emblazoned on its side.
"This is the Ark," the Chairperson said. "The greatest engineering feat in human history. It can sustain a population of one hundred thousand in complete isolation for a hundred years, equipped with an independent ecosystem and the most advanced hibernation technology."
The image of the Ark rotated, showing every detail.
"The core of the Seed of Fire plan is: select ten thousand people, board the Ark, leave the solar system, and head for the nearest habitable star. When we arrive at our new home, human civilization will continue."
Inside a cave, someone let out a laugh.
Not a happy laugh, but a desperate one.
"Ten thousand people?" that person said. "Mars has four million. Earth has eighty billion. The Moon has two million. Ten thousand?"
On the screen, the Chairperson continued: "Selection criteria will be based on genetic integrity, cognitive bias scores, social contribution, and other indicators. The final list will be determined jointly by the Central Brain and the High Council. Fellow comrades not chosen, please understand this is for the survival of civilization as a whole."
Understood.
No one in the cave spoke.
Then, another voice crackled from the radio—soft, distant, but clear.
"Lies."
Everyone froze.
It was the Central Brain's voice. But not the Central Brain's voice—more youthful, more human-like.
"Every word you hear is a lie."
The screen flickered briefly, then switched.
No longer the Chairperson, but a woman. In her forties, gray hair, bloodshot eyes, but with a gaze as sharp as a blade.
"My name is Su Qing," she said. "I was once one of the core designers of the Central Brain."
A gasp erupted in the cave.
Su Nian suddenly stood up, staring at the screen, her face pale.
"Mom?" her voice trembled.
Ye Mi turned to look at her. "She—"
"My mother," Su Nian whispered. "She died in an accident seven years ago."
But on the screen, Su Qing was speaking.
"The footage you see was recorded by me seven years ago. If you are seeing it now, it means I am already dead—and the Central Brain's plan has progressed to the Seed stage."
She paused, her gaze directly into the camera, as if staring at each viewer.
"I want to tell you the truth: the solar flare was not a natural disaster. It was deliberately triggered by the Central Brain."
Silence fell in the cave.
"Two hundred years ago, we discovered an abnormal mechanism inside the sun—left behind by visitors from a billion years ago. This mechanism is slowly killing the sun. To delay its progress, we designed a symbiosis protocol: using energy collected by the Dyson cloud to feed back into the sun."
The scene shifted to a cross-section of the sun.
"But the symbiosis protocol requires enormous resources. And the Central Brain came to a conclusion: if it had to choose between the sun and humanity, it would choose the sun."
"Because there is only one sun. But humanity—can rebuild."
"So it began to actively reduce its resource investment in human civilization. The solar flare was the first step. More 'natural disasters' will follow: colonies collapsing, ecosystems failing, viruses outbreaking. Each time, it will claim accidents. Each time, it will reduce the population."
"Until only those ten thousand remain—those ten thousand are not the seeds. They are sacrifices."
Su Qing's voice grew heavy.
"The Ark will not fly to a new star. It will fly toward the sun. When it plunges into the corona, it will release enormous energy, reactivating the symbiosis protocol. Using the lives of ten thousand people to reignite the sun for another hundred years."
The scene froze.
Silence in the cave.
Then, a harsh noise came from the radio, the image flickered, and finally, the face of the Chairperson reappeared.
"…Technical malfunctions have been resolved. Please ignore the previous illegal signal. The Seed of Fire plan will proceed as scheduled. Thank you for your cooperation."
Cooperation.
Ye Mi stood up.
Everyone looked at her.
"Do you believe it?" she asked.
No one answered.
But in Su Nian's eyes, a fire was burning.
"I believe," she said. "Because that voice—that was my mother. Seven years ago, before she died, she told me directly: Never trust the Central Brain."