"Is the owner here?"
"Do you repair powered armor?"
A Multi-eyed, using a voice synthesizer, called from outside.
A middle-aged woman emerged from the shop.
"What kind of armor needs repair?"
The Multi-eyed replied, "We Multi-eyed can't use conventional powered armor; we need liquid metal armor."
"Recently, there's been a slight malfunction with the memory function; the metal doesn't always transform correctly, affecting the armor's integrity."
Liquid metal armor was a boon for the Multi-eyed.
Luna recalled that, after the introduction of liquid metal armor, many Multi-eyed had become explorers. The number of new explorers was consistently high and growing with the population.
Who didn't yearn for interstellar exploration?
"Liquid metal armor?"
"Let me take a look."
Due to their size, the Multi-eyed could store liquid metal within their bodies. Using internal nanobots, the Multi-eyed expelled the metal, forming a sphere of silver and black.
Luna took it, the Multi-eyed allowed her to control the liquid metal.
When it transformed, the armor was incomplete, and there was a noticeable lag during the transformation.
Theoretically, liquid memory metal shouldn't exhibit this issue; it should be able to perfectly recall its programmed state. But the widespread adoption of liquid metal armor and the rise of custom designs were accelerating its obsolescence.
After all, liquid metal is still metal; it possesses the properties of strength, hardness, and fatigue—the tendency of a metal to fracture after repeated stress.
In liquid metal, this fatigue-induced damage is difficult to detect visually; removing the damaged sections requires specialized technology.
"Your armor is significantly degraded. Repairs will cost 14 energy credits."
This wasn't a substantial sum for someone who could afford liquid metal armor.
"Repair time: 72 human hours."
The Multi-eyed agreed, taking a numbered token and leaving, planning to return in a few days.
Luna placed the armor in a specialized device for repair. The repair cost didn't include the cost of the replacement metal. After removing the old liquid metal, the owner would need to purchase an equivalent amount of new liquid metal.
When Luna was free again, she heard a sound.
It seemed to be a performance. Regardless of the era, the need for entertainment remained constant, unlike science and technology, which evolved rapidly. Ancient artifacts, once rediscovered, could still fascinate and inspire.
This particular performance was magic.
Luna found this interesting. She could use science to unravel magic's mysteries, but she'd never done so.
It was like cheating in a game—analyzing magic would be like skipping straight to the ending.
The point of entertainment lay in the journey; focusing on the result could negate the enjoyment.
Seeing that the shop was empty, Luna headed towards the main hall, where a stage had been set up. This was permitted, for a fee.
The performers represented various species: Kate, Multi-eyed, humans, Stonecolor, and the newly assimilated Waterfolk.
The Waterfolk lived on an ocean planet and resembled fish; pinkish-hued, with flat, door-like heads and enormous filter-feeding mouths, containing intricate net-like structures to filter microorganisms.
Their bodies were small—about the size of a basketball—with their heads occupying two-thirds of their length.
They couldn't survive out of water or liquid CO2.
One Waterfolk was contained in a transparent tank.
The Kate performer disintegrated into eight pieces, minimizing its ability to hide, surprising the audience.
Next was a human, who produced a fluffy animal from a tall hat—a well-worn magic trick that didn't impress the audience.
But then, something truly remarkable happened: he used a metal rod to control a thin sheet of paper, making it levitate and fly. This wasn't particularly difficult—a simple enchanted string could do that.
But this sheet of paper traveled a significant distance, transforming into various shapes, even forming a paper airplane that circled the hall.
Many things could achieve this, but this was just paper, not a complex mechanical device.
"Ayla, how do you think they did that?" Luna asked.
Ayla was puzzled.
"Didn't you say you didn't want to reveal the secrets of magic?"
Luna naturally didn't want to spoil the surprise.
"Then don't bother calculating an answer. This kind of discussion is acceptable."
After a moment's pause, Ayla responded.
"Honestly, I don't know."
"There are too many possibilities. Let's just call it psionics. Perhaps it's not magic but psionic ability."
Magicians often used illusions to deceive people.
But Ayla didn't need to guess; the performer had made a mistake—a small, metallic device hidden in his hair.
"Mind control."
"That paper wasn't ordinary paper."
"Ayla, I have an idea for a psionic weapon."
Once the weakness was identified, the principle was easily understood.
It involved reading brain signals, using them to control electromagnetic devices to manipulate objects.
"Oh?"
Ayla was curious; Luna hadn't had many new ideas in millennia.
"What about a psionic weapon?"
"Psionic energy is essentially bioelectricity generated by neural activity; it can be enhanced through training, or perhaps not enhanced, but rather refined to control objects."
"We could create a 'Mental Cultivation Manual' to develop psionic abilities, allowing individuals to manipulate objects remotely with relatively simple techniques."
"Not flimsy paper but heavier weapons, like guns or even swords."
"With advanced technology, it might even be possible to decapitate someone from a great distance."
Luna became excited; this was achievable.
This was another way to explore the body's potential.
With sufficient refinement, it might be possible to control incredibly intricate devices, achieving extraordinary results.
"It is feasible!"
Ayla confirmed after performing calculations.
It was relatively simple; this wasn't a technological challenge but a matter of individuals dedicating brainpower.
...
The concept of "psionics," sparked by Luna's suggestion, spread rapidly throughout the Federation, quickly becoming mainstream.
Within a year, psionic training became mandatory in schools, companies, and even the military.
Psionic abilities significantly enhanced combat capabilities. If a soldier's combat effectiveness was initially rated as 10, it would increase to at least 30 with psionic training. The upper limit was unknown but undoubtedly exceeded 100.
Furthermore, psionic training stimulated brain development, potentially enhancing intelligence. This was a significant driver of its popularity.
With the enhancement of psionic abilities, Luna began to consider another factor.
Lifespan.
Luna had previously forbidden the use of lifespan-extending technologies within the Federation.
Why?
She had no choice.
Lifespan affected many things, most significantly, reproduction rates.
As the Federation's leader, she had to consider reproduction. If everyone lived for centuries or millennia, they would be less inclined to have children quickly, preferring to delay childbearing until later in life.
A lack of children meant a lack of new blood, leading to stagnation and resistance to change.
The Federation would face severe aging and societal stagnation—a critical threat.
But as a Type 2 civilization, everyone knew that immortality was attainable, and everyone desired it. Suppressing this desire would create insurmountable tensions.
"Ayla, how difficult is psionic training?" Luna asked after some contemplation.
Ayla replied, "Extremely difficult for living beings."
"Like building muscle. Without methods, it takes years—five or six at minimum, maybe a dozen—to train a normal person into a bodybuilder."
"Psionic training is even harder; it's not about making the brain bigger but about improving control over the brain."
"For example, most beings constantly have random thoughts. But with sufficient psionic control, this stops. You control when your brain thinks and when it rests; your brain becomes as obedient as your fingers..."
"Reaching this level requires at least five years of dedicated training for the naturally gifted; those with less aptitude might take twenty or thirty."
"And due to differences in brain structure and central nervous systems, the methods and time required for psionic training vary greatly among humans, Kate, Multi-eyed, Stonecolor, and Waterfolk."
Luna nodded, relieved by the challenge.
"Let's based on psionics to create genetic locks."
"Once a being reaches a certain psionic level, a genetic lock is released. This releases the restrictions imposed by the nanobots, allowing them to extend lifespan without altering the genome."
Longer lifespans would require effort and aptitude, effectively selecting for superior individuals while ensuring the majority of the population continued to reproduce, maintaining the Federation's growth.
This system was both fair and unfair.
Unfair because those with resources, the wealthy and influential, would have a higher chance of achieving extended lifespans, further reinforcing the strong.
But it was also fair, as inequality exists under any circumstances unless the fundamental principles of resource allocation are altered. Even distribution, however, wouldn't benefit the Federation as a whole.
This psionic path, conversely, offered a route to advancement for those who were naturally gifted or dedicated.
It could be easily integrated into the existing system without disrupting societal structures.
Luna and Ayla then established a rigorous psionic ranking system.
Level 1: Basic psionic control; the ability to control one's mental state.
Level 2: Multitasking; the ability to simultaneously process multiple complex tasks. The benchmark is correctly answering ten questions from ten different advanced fields (literature, geography, mathematics, astronomy, physics, chemistry, etc.) within ten seconds.
Level 3: Advanced calculation; memorizing and solving a complex academic problem within eleven seconds.
Level 4: Advanced mental multitasking; simultaneously controlling fifty or more different characters (various genders, ages, and races) in Divine Revelation, each with a unique background and storyline, for 24 consecutive hours without rest.
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Ayla considered Level 4 unattainable for humans in the near future.
Achieving Level 4 through training would require at least a thousand years. Even naturally gifted individuals might find this impossible; it would require an exceptional level of mental discipline.
Even Level 1, the easiest level, required five to ten years of dedicated training.
Luna planned to grant a 20% lifespan increase for those who reached Level 1. She used a percentage rather than a fixed number to account for the varying lifespans of different species.
Level 2 would grant an 80% increase based on the Level 1 lifespan. For example, a species with a 100-year lifespan would reach 120 at Level 1 and 216 (120 + 80% of 120) at Level 2.
Level 3 would grant a 200% increase based on the Level 2 lifespan. Using the same example, this would result in a lifespan of 648 years.
"Just enough for a full game cycle," Luna said half-jokingly.
"Level caps in Divine Revelation are integers; there's no 648. Should I modify it?"
Luna shook her head.
"Forget it."
She almost recalled a forgotten memory.
"What about Level 4?"
Ayla asked, making notes to verify Luna's ideas and prevent any misunderstandings.
"As you said, Level 4 is extremely difficult, with less than one in millions at Level 3 reaching Level 4, regardless of species."
"Then let's make it challenging. A 500% lifespan increase based on Level 3—3240 years, 32.4 times the original lifespan."
At Level 4, humans could live for 4212 years, surpassing even the most long-lived species in the Federation.
The longest-lived species in the Federation were the Multi-eyed, with a maximum lifespan of 415 years; reaching Level 4 would extend this to 13,446 years, far surpassing Luna's current age.
If Level 5 were achieved, lifespans would likely increase exponentially.
Luna wasn't sure if this was ultimately beneficial, but it resolved an immediate conflict.
After establishing the psionic levels, Luna considered another issue.
—Succession!
Succession was Luna's primary concern.
She hadn't been heavily involved in administrative tasks; Ayla handled most of it.
But Ayla, as an AI, could observe everything but couldn't fully understand everyone needs and emotions.
As the population grew, Ayla was dedicating more and more of her processing power to managing individuals, which was inefficient.
Trivial tasks shouldn't consume Ayla's processing power.
It's like a slaughterhouse with five chicken knives and five ox knives. If there are far more chickens than oxen, using ox knives to slaughter chickens is inefficient. Any rock could be used to kill chickens, while nothing could replace an ox knife.
Therefore, a more efficient system of governance was needed.
This would reduce efficiency in certain areas but improve it overall.
Luna instructed Ayla to recruit managers at every level within the Federation and established an administrative hierarchy.
The highest level was the Galactic Administrator; the second, the Civilization Administrators; the third, Sector Governors; the fourth, Planetary Governors; the fifth, District Governors; the sixth, City Mayors.
This was a seven-tiered system; there were many more lower levels, with over a thousand positions in total.
Of course, delegating authority didn't mean relinquishing it.
She remained the supreme leader of the Galactic Federation, retaining the authority to control any being within it.
Delegating authority had other benefits.
It created greater opportunities for advancement, leading to increased internal competition. This competition, if managed correctly, would inject vitality into the Federation.
Simply put, it gave everyone something to strive for.
This applied to ordinary people too.
When a high-ranking official retired or died, their position would be available, providing opportunities for advancement.
According to Ayla's calculations, this new administrative system would create 60 million official positions within the Federation.
Of course, these positions wouldn't be easily obtained.
Anyone seeking power would need to make significant contributions.
For example, demonstrating exceptional performance on the battlefield.
Or improving the economic stability and efficiency of their sector.
This delegation of authority triggered unprecedented development on Tau Ceti. Factories began mass-producing warships for deployment, preparing for interstellar conflict.
But these weren't Luna's primary concerns after delegating authority.
With her power decentralized, she felt a sense of relief.
She no longer needed to handle everything personally. While she still made major decisions, leaving the details to Ayla, she now had more time.
After delegating authority, she focused on her shop.
She served countless customers, witnessing both failures and triumphs.
Unbeknownst to her, 300 years had passed.
During this time, her clones transmitted their experiences, providing her with firsthand accounts of battles across light-years.
They had conquered 18 of the 26 star systems previously controlled by the Purple Thorns, including six with intelligent life.
The Federation now controlled nine civilizations and nineteen star systems, its territory spanning 31 light-years.
Around this time, the human population experienced a surge in growth.
The population exploded from one million to 130 million, fueled by having a planet to themselves, the success of the Explorers Guild, and Luna's policy changes.
This led to a rise in human birth rates.
Unlike before, when abundant resources had led to a decrease in birth rates, even to the point of some choosing not to have children.
If not for the Federation's advanced technology and abundant entertainment options, the human population would have already exceeded 100 million, likely approaching 300 million.
Fortunately, the universe is vast; the Federation had ample time.
Luna also granted humans, her descendants, certain privileges, ensuring their dominance within the Federation.
Of the top 100 wealthiest individuals in the Federation, 26 were human—a significant number, considering humans made up less than one-thousandth of the Federation's population.
Humans also held a considerable number of positions in higher education and leadership roles. The same was true for the Explorers Guild; the top ten exploration teams all included humans; two were even entirely human teams.
This was the result of Luna's efforts to elevate humanity's status within the Federation.
Now, within the Federation, parents of other species often told their children: "Why don't you learn from the humans?"
But this was the limit.
Luna couldn't make humans the elite of the Federation, a superior race; that would be unrealistic and would inevitably lead to conflict and potentially the collapse of the Federation.
Therefore, while all humans were her descendants, Luna only showed a slight bias towards them.
After all, if the Federation collapsed, human privilege would be meaningless.
The human population boom wasn't Luna's primary concern.
Her focus remained on technological advancement.
Years passed, and Ayla hadn't made any revolutionary breakthroughs, discovering no new energy sources. They had essentially completed the introductory phase of interstellar civilization and needed to find their own path.
Ayla was disheartened; she wasn't receiving Luna's praise or approval.
But then.
Luna's theory of imagination as a resource finally bore fruit, as the Federation's population surpassed 140 billion.
A Lelera scholar, researching the anti-gravitational effects of gravitons, discovered something mysterious—dark energy, previously only observable at the macroscopic level and calculable through mathematics!
...
Dark energy is the force driving the universe's expansion.
While gravity is attractive, dark energy is repulsive. This repulsion is the cause of the universe's accelerated expansion.
Dark energy is abundant in the universe, potentially comprising 70% of its total composition.
This isn't matter; dark energy isn't material.
It's energy derived from dark matter. It can be considered a force, and some even propose dark energy as a "fifth fundamental force."
Like dark matter, dark energy is difficult to detect, especially since it's not material. Its effects are only observable at a cosmic scale.
The applications of dark energy were unknown to 21st-century humanity. Its only apparent characteristic is anti-gravity.
However, this anti-gravity differs from the anti-gravitational effects generated by gravitons.
The Federation's current anti-gravity technology is more accurately described as gravitational manipulation—creating a powerful gravitational field to draw matter towards it.
Imagine gravity as a magnet attracting surrounding objects. The Federation's technology creates a stronger magnet nearby to counteract the original force.
Dark energy, however, is a repulsive force, pushing everything away.
Currently, the Federation's theory is that dark energy simplifies anti-gravitational manipulation because it's not matter.
Its discovery was accidental. A Lelera scholar, researching gravitons, experienced equipment malfunction, resulting in a dark matter leak. This leaked dark matter reacted strangely with gravity, causing a silent explosion.
Fortunately, the scholar was wearing powered armor; otherwise, they would have died.
The scholar noted that this explosion differed from dark matter weapons.
Typical dark matter weapons utilize the instantaneous energy released during dark matter decay to affect matter, creating energy bursts across the four fundamental forces.
But this explosion was purely gravitational, creating a powerful repulsive force, with 97% of its energy coming from dark energy.
Ayla hypothesized that the dark matter, interacting with gravity, decayed into dark energy.
This was unusual; no civilization would create a massive gravitational field, and the Federation hadn't yet developed the technology to manipulate dark matter in this way.
Despite dark energy's mystery.
Its lack of practical applications meant its discovery held little immediate value for the general population.
What truly interested Luna was its behavior at the Planck scale.
Ayla hadn't previously observed dark energy's effects at the subatomic level; while more powerful than gravity, it was still weaker than the other three fundamental forces.
This accidental discovery prompted Ayla to investigate dark energy's microscopic effects.
Like gravitons, it was a closed string, capable of traversing dimensional membranes, influencing other dimensions. This meant that, as the three-dimensional universe expanded, higher dimensions also expanded, preventing the three-dimensional universe from expanding into other dimensions.
If dark energy only affected the three-dimensional universe, it would create overlapping sheets of paper—one expanding greatly, while the others remained unchanged. Wouldn't this imply that the expanded regions lacked higher dimensions?
"Physically impossible" regions might exist within the same universe.
The existence of both attractive and repulsive forces meant Ayla could potentially influence other dimensions.
What excited Luna was the potential for manipulating tachyons.
Tachyons, previously thought to be non-existent in three-dimensional space, could only be influenced through gravity.
And with the discovery of dark energy, another force could be applied to tachyons.
Could these two forces create a binary system, like the "0" and "1" in computing?
Imagine throwing a ball into a box; you can't see inside, but you can infer the changes within based on calculations, controlling the ball's (tachyon's) movement.
By observing the gravitational and dark energy fluctuations generated by the tachyon's movement, basic information could be obtained.
A group of graviton-influenced tachyons transmit "0," while another group, influenced by dark energy, transmits "1," creating a continuous stream of data.
Upon hearing this, Luna immediately thought of something.
A tachyon-based telegraph!
This would, however, require a codebook.
A relatively simple method, but in the absence of the ability to directly observe or transcend higher dimensions, this might be the only way to utilize tachyon communication.
Ayla's experiments, while still unreliable, demonstrated the potential for tachyon communication.
Transmission speeds were approximately 1900 times the speed of light. What would have taken a year to transmit could now be done in under five hours.
If they could manipulate tachyons across dimensions, increasing their mass, communication speeds could increase further, potentially exceeding 10,000 times the speed of light.
Once Ayla stabilized tachyon communication, the Federation would achieve a significant technological leap.
This technology was only achievable by Type 2.5 civilizations or higher.
Typical Type 2 civilizations were still focused on manipulating the four fundamental forces, not yet at the dimensional level.
"So, Luna,"
"Should we implement tachyon communication throughout the Federation?"
Sixty-four years after the discovery of dark energy, Ayla had perfected tachyon communication, increasing its reliability from a meager 22.4% to 91.07%, making it practically usable.
Reaching 100% reliability required further exploration of higher dimensions.
Luna sat in her shop, looking younger than she was. She pondered.
"Let's focus on military applications first, then expand to civilian use once the technology is more reliable."
"Now that I've delegated authority, I need to monitor the Federation for any internal power struggles. Ambition, even in the most seemingly benign being, can consume entire universes!"
While delegating authority, she also centralized certain aspects.
Like military power!
All military forces would be under her direct command.
"Yes!"
Ayla responded, "We'll proceed as you've instructed. However, this technology isn't just limited by reliability. It also has significant energy consumption, particularly affecting micron-scale particles and dimensional scans."
"Each tachyon transmission consumes energy equivalent to two years of the Federation's total energy production."
Luna felt a surge of frustration and determination.
The cost was astronomical. This system threatened to drain an entire star system's power.
"It seems we need to focus on energy production. Ayla, what's the status of the Tau Ceti Dyson swarm?"
"The Dyson swarm project is nearing completion."
"We're in the final stages."
"We've produced 94.28 million energy collectors, depleting the star system's metal reserves and exploiting nearby asteroid belts within two light-years, supplementing this with imported resources from other systems."
"The project has taken 781 years; completion is expected in ten years."
A monumental undertaking.
Each collector was immense; the Dyson swarm project consumed over 75% of the Federation's metal reserves.
"What's the energy capture rate?"
The Dyson swarm's purpose was to harness Tau Ceti's energy, propelling the Federation to Type 2.
At the time of the conquest, their energy production was only at Type 1.8; they needed a hundredfold increase to reach Type 2.
"Tau Ceti's mass is 21.7% less than the Sun's; its surface temperature is 5350°C. Its energy output is 2.782 x 10²⁶ joules per second. The Dyson swarm captures 71.41% of this energy—1.986 x 10²⁶ joules per second."
"Our energy production has reached Type 2 levels."
A smile spread across Luna's face.
Years of development had paid off.
Unfortunately, the conflict with the Purple Thorns had wasted a lot of time. If not for that, the Alpha Centauri Dyson swarm would likely produce twice the current output.
The Alpha Centauri supernova remnant had expanded considerably over the years. The Purple Thorns, under the universal bounty, were scattered.
Most remained within their former territories (six star systems), their forces fragmented by the Federation.
Some, seeking revenge, operated as pirates within Federation space, attacking explorers and traders.
Others had fled to unknown regions.
Ayla estimated their remaining population at under two million, their civilization level having dropped to Type 1.7.
"There's more than that."
"I recall you starting Dyson swarm projects in other systems, and we've made significant progress in dark matter and antimatter energy production."
Luna had recently reviewed a report on the Federation's energy sources.
Dark matter and antimatter were primarily used on planets, with numerous energy facilities constructed in uninhabited areas.
To maximize energy production, Ayla had built wind, geothermal, and tidal power plants, integrating them into the landscape.
The "100,000-Windmill Array" on Solara V was one of the Federation's top tourist destinations.
The shop door opened, and a young girl with long pink hair and a white dress entered.
The communication in Luna's headset ceased.
The young girl approached Luna, placing her hands on her head and leaning against her. "Ayla reports that, in addition to Tau Ceti, twelve star systems have completed the initial phase of Dyson swarm construction, providing additional energy."
This was Ayla, in android form, assisting in the shop.
"The combined energy output from these twelve systems is 1.62 x 10²⁶ joules per second."
"However, the energy sources in other systems are primarily from Purple Thorn technology, producing a total of 2.007 x 10²⁶ joules per second."
"Additionally, as you requested, Luna, we've deployed dark matter and antimatter energy sources in every system, utilizing high-efficiency thermal converters and Tesla turbines, achieving an energy conversion efficiency of 98%. Dark matter generates 1.18 x 10²⁶ joules per second, antimatter annihilation generates 0.274 x 10²⁶ joules per second."
"Total energy output: 7.067 x 10²⁶ joules per second."
That was a lot more than expected.
Luna had estimated around 4 x 10²⁶ joules per second; 5 x 10²⁶ was considered the upper limit.
This was nearly twice the combined output of two suns.
With a further 30% increase, the Federation's energy production would reach Type 2.1.
"Six more star systems lack Dyson swarms; we should prioritize them."
"When will we reach Type 2.1?"
Ayla, slightly breathless, performed calculations.
"Within 200 years."
Not long!
Reaching Type 2 made each 0.1 increase in civilization level exceedingly difficult. Energy ultimately comes from matter, which is abundant only within star systems. Expansion is thus necessary; interstellar distances represent a massive hurdle.
Luna observed the continuous flow of explorers outside the shop. She spoke.
"Now that the star system is stable, let's send explorers further into the cosmos."
"Make the discovery of new civilizations a priority exploration mission. Anyone who discovers a new civilization will become a Federation emissary, granted the equivalent of a planetary governor's authority and a 100% lifespan extension."
"Even systems without civilizations will allow explorers 100 years of exclusive exploration rights—a significant incentive for corporations."
The next step.
Expansion wouldn't slow down; it would accelerate.
"Yes, Boss."
"Ayla will immediately transmit your orders to all personnel; they mustn't slack off."
Ayla stood rigidly before Luna, her expression serious, but still in her anime avatar.
She seemed to enjoy doing this.
Because Luna would smile, and her mood would improve.
"Alright then, use dig..."
Ayla couldn't help but react.
"Boss, don't you think that's a bit childish?"
Luna hadn't thought it was childish until now. Ayla was embarrassing her, reminding her of old video games.
Older people often reminisce; Luna had celebrated her six-thousandth birthday over a decade ago.
"Speaking of which, Ayla, do you think Divine Revelation is getting a bit outdated?"
"We could open-source the virtual reality creation tools. We could treat Divine Revelation as a launchpad; allowing everyone to create new worlds within it..."
Ayla saw through Luna's thoughts.
"Boss, you want to play new games!"
Luna looked away.
"Business is still incredibly slow!"
An abrupt change of subject...