Why Did You Bring the Earth with You Through Time Travel?

After reading the first volume, not only I had a lot of feelings, but it also evoked some emotions. I am a fan of fairy tale novels, and the books I read are basically within the scope of fantasy. I read this book and continued to read it. For now, at least in the first volume, there are no extraordinary abilities, no flash of sword, very ordinary, ordinary, unremarkable, ordinary does not make me secrete dopamine, ordinary is like everything should be. When I stood in the perspective of the protagonist, there was no swollen face of a villain, no talent, no lucky golden finger of God's blessing, but it made me calmly watch it. When the world is turned upside down and everything is about to come, if I am in it. What can I do? There is nothing I can do. What do I want to do? Maybe a lot. What can I do? Find ways to get through each day right now. Regardless of novels or reality, there are people who ride the waves and make waves in every era, and more of them are ordinary, ordinary people. They have their own scripts, their own joys and sorrows, their own birth, old age, illness and death. They are no different than the "protagonist". Thanks to the author for being able to use a lengthy writing style in such a world to allow readers to see so many living people through the protagonist, remembering that in such a shocking era, there are still many people who still have a hard time.

🤔 Confederate States of America, Greenland, Denmark, Canada, Panama, India, Singapore, Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, Peru, Chile, Venezuela, Colombia, Hawaii, Bermuda, Cuba, Cape Horn, New Zealand, Australia, Canberra, Papua New Guinea, Indonesia, Vietnam, Malaysia, Philippines, Sri Lanka, South Africa, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Iceland, United Kingdom, Spain, Portugal, Lisbon, Norway, Japan, Russia, France, Netherlands, Morocco. Novaya Zemlya? South Korea and North Korea? Alaska? Maybe... The Soviet Union? 😥

Oh, that's what I wrote in vain

Author: Xi That thing didn't lie. The process of time travel was so fast that before his consciousness had time to react to the fact of "disappearance", it had already started over in another place. He will live. In this ancient and barren land, there is hope, albeit meager, but real. In the grass on a small piece of land, a drop of dew detached from a blade of grass, swirled and floated, refracting a ray of crystal sunlight into space. This is a wide and endless river of bolide in the sky. It is a river of life. It flows over the earth, roaring, filling the entire space with the symphony of life. He was standing on a street. It was already dawn, and the sunlight fell slantly from the east-south direction, passing through the suspended particles in the air and scattering into gray-blue, uniform morning light, which fell on him and every footprint she walked. "Hey! Gu Fan, you played so well in the jungle yesterday!" The person behind him called out to Gu Fan. Gu Fan recognized him as the classmate who played blackmail with him yesterday. "Haha. It's nothing, it's just a normal tailwind game. Do you want to continue playing together tomorrow?" "Okay, but I'm a little hungry. Let's go eat first, I'll treat you." "Let's go!" A breakfast shop in the distance has opened, white steam is rising from the steamer, and the soymilk machine is rumbling. Someone is queuing up to buy fried dough sticks. The boss stood at the door, wearing a white apron that could never be washed clean, skillfully giving change to customers. A wild cat jumped down from the wall, holding a piece of bread that had been dug out from nowhere, and quickly ran into the depths of the alley. Another ordinary day. The stars are shining brightly in the night sky, and the invisible love fills the entire universe. The first ray of dawn has appeared in the east, and together with the light of the Rose Nebula, it forms the most magnificent color in the universe. Full text completed

Dean Zhang gave up his lie, but he always felt that the time travel came from somewhere. Maybe the earth was originally like this.

I think the ship in the latest chapter should be the ship of the dead. People died on it and then floated up from the bottom of the sea.

Extreme panic and massacres broke out on fishing boats. They were suspected of being cornered by deep-sea monsters. The crew members killed each other or were hunted one by one. Only empty boats and bloodstains were left. There was a bigger conspiracy hidden behind it.

The fishing boat must have been attacked by an unknown creature. The brown color is the trace left by it. It may be the mucus on the body, or it may be an invertebrate mollusk such as a large octopus.

Author: Xi At this time, the earth is a star in the sky. At this time, Beijing was a city on the ground. There is no light in the living room. Gu Fan stood up from the window sill, his legs were numb. He sat there for a long time, from afternoon to dusk, from dusk to dawn, and from dawn to dusk. The cell phone had long since run out of battery, and he was holding it in his hands with sweat. He didn't know what day it was now, and he didn't know why he still kept track of the day. It's quiet outside. All the sounds are silenced. There was no sound of cars, no voices of people, no buzzing vibration of the air conditioner, and no sound of cooking from the family upstairs on time every day. The whole building was like a shell with its internal organs drained out, leaving only the hollow whine of the wind as it passed through the corridors. Gu Fan hasn't gone downstairs for a long time. The contents of the refrigerator had been eaten long ago, and he relied on the expired instant noodles in the kitchen cabinet for who knows how many days. The faucet still produces water, which is the only good news. Every time he received water, he would go up and smell it first, for fear that there would be some strange smell in the water, but there was none yet. The water is clear and cool, just like before. He doesn't know what the outside world has become. There was no electricity, no Internet, and no signal. The entire city was like a huge tomb, and he was a dead man who was still alive, trapped in the deepest part of the tomb, and could only judge day and night through the small patch of skylight above his head. Gu Fan looked at the calendar on the wall. This year is May 21, 2024. Gu Fan called it a crazy era. That thing appeared on the seventh day. It wasn't the seventh day he counted, it was the seventh day that thing told him. It didn't knock on the door, didn't ring the doorbell, and made no sound, but Gu Fan knew it was coming. The air in the living room became heavier, as if someone had stuffed the entire room into a deeper and thicker medium, and each breath was harder than the last. The door is open. He didn't open it, the door opened by himself. The security door swung inwards silently without anyone touching it, as if it had been gently pushed by an invisible hand. There were no lights in the corridor, and the emergency lights had been extinguished long ago. Darkness poured in from the doorway and mixed with the darkness of the living room, making it impossible to distinguish the boundaries. That thing is standing outside the door. Its outline is constantly changing, sometimes like an equilateral triangle, sometimes like a ring, sometimes turning into a complex polyhedron that switches back and forth between a two-dimensional plane and a three-dimensional solid, with a pale golden luster flowing on the surface. It has no facial features, no limbs, and no structure that could be called a body part. But Gu Fan knew it was looking at him. The pale golden light is generated from within it, radiating outward from every inch of its surface, evenly and uninterruptedly. "Earthlings." Sound does not travel in the air. It rang directly in Gu Fan's mind, as clear as someone putting their lips to his eardrums and whispering. Gu Fan opened his mouth, and the voice came out of his dry throat, much softer than he expected: "Who are you?" "Galaxy Joint Conference Infrastructure Construction Project Planning No. 739 Project Execution Group." Gu Fan did not understand. But from that day, his eighteenth birthday, which also happened to be the death anniversary of the earth, he began to understand the fact: he was going to die. Not just him, but everyone. Not this city, but the entire planet. Not this country, but humanity as a whole. Due to word count issues, I will divide it into several paragraphs

Author: Xi That thing begins to explain. For hundreds of millions of years, a route for a hyperspace expressway connecting major colonial worlds has long been established, and all affected star systems have received written notification within the first cycle after the plan was announced. The publicity materials are displayed in the outer atmosphere of the third planet in the Proxima Centauri system in the form of holographic projection, and the display period covers the entire preliminary preparation stage of the project. Gu Fan translated this passage in his mind. The land acquisition notice has been posted in the galaxy next door for 300 million years. It took humans less than a hundred years to find a planet near Proxima Centauri, and that was already the limit of human spaceflight history. No one has been to the atmosphere of that planet, no one has seen the holographic projection sign, and no one has raised any objection to the cosmic highway that passes through the solar system at any time in 300 million years. "Humanity has failed to raise any objections during this period." Said the thing. Gu Fan didn't know what to say. His mouth was open, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. The air in the living room became heavier and heavier, so heavy that he felt like he was being pressed into the floor by an invisible force. The surface of that thing flowed a little. That kind of flow is like a pale golden river that turns around on its body and then becomes still. "In accordance with Article 48 of the "Regulations on Expropriation for Interstellar Infrastructure Construction" passed by the Galaxy Joint Meeting, native intelligent species subject to expropriation of celestial bodies have the right to demand compensation at the same civilization level. The Joint Meeting will evaluate the civilization level of the human species and decide whether to initiate the compensation process based on the evaluation results. Please cooperate with the evaluation." Three Gu Fan can't remember the evaluation process clearly. He only remembered the feeling - his whole person was turned inside out, all the secrets, all the thoughts, all the memories were exposed under the pale golden light, without any obstruction or reservation. Those things that he didn't even know about and that were hidden in the deepest part of his subconscious were all turned out and spread out in the open, like a book with every page blown open by the wind. Then it said a number. That number is small. The decimal point is followed by three digits, scientific notation, and the base is less than one. That number is at the bottom of the civilization rankings of all known intelligent species, and is even lower than the lowest record ever encountered since the United Galactic Conference established the civilization ranking evaluation system. No comparison, no quarrel, no room for bargaining. The result is unilateral, final and not subject to appeal. All the achievements of human civilization—from the invention of fire to landing on the moon, from knotting notes to the Internet, from the Book of Songs to the theory of relativity—all collapse into a number smaller than one in the dimension of that thing. Greater than zero. But it's infinitely close to zero. Compensation conditions are not met. Gu Fan thought he would die next. I thought that that pale golden light would surge out of that thing at a certain moment, engulf the entire earth, and delete all cities, all mountains, all oceans, all memories, and all existence from the universe at once, as clean as if they had never existed. But nothing happened. The thing is still there, its outline is still changing, and the pale golden light is still flowing. It was silent for a few seconds, and then said something that no one expected. "There is a possibility." Gu Fan didn't know how many people the thing said the same thing to in the next few hours. All he knew was that he had been taken to the room—not the room he had found, but another, larger, empty, and full of people. Some of those people he knew, some he didn't know, some were wearing military uniforms, some were wearing suits, some were wearing white coats, and some were wearing the same school uniform as him. The expression on everyone's face was the same: fear, confusion, and a very faint, almost invisible hope. Seventy-six people. That thing sampled seventy-six people from all over the world, brought them to this room, and asked them to participate in a jury to determine the fate of mankind. That thing explained that non-technical civilization contributions can be converted into equivalent civilization levels, making limited but decisive adjustments to the evaluation results. Cultural products that are non-replicable and incommensurable and produced under original technological conditions—literature, music, painting, poetry, all those spiritual creations that cannot be restored with data or replicated with technology—can be resubmitted for evaluation as supplementary materials to human civilization. "Twenty-four hours." The thing said, "select the cultural products that best represent the non-technical contributions of human civilization. Any form. Any quantity." Four The room turned into a pot of boiling porridge over the next twenty-four hours. Seventy-six people were divided into more than a dozen groups, each group responsible for screening materials in a category. Some people covered the wall with sticky notes, some spread out dozens of books on the table, some kept talking into the recording pen, and some squatted in the corner and wrote. Someone is making a noise. They were quarreling with red faces, quarreling with each other, banging the table, and shouting each other's names. Debate about movies or animation, debate about Tang poetry or Song poetry, debate about realism or romanticism, debate about sculpture or painting. Everyone who argued sincerely believed that what they defended was the most essential part of human civilization, the part that would be valued, and the part that could save human lives. Gu Fan did not participate in the debate. He huddled in a corner, with several pieces of white paper in front of him. The tip of his pen rested on the paper and did not fall down for a long time. He is not a person who can write poetry, he is not a person who can paint, and he is not a person who has extraordinary talent in any art form. He is just an ordinary high school student with average grades, average looks, average family background, and average life. He didn't know what he had to offer to represent humanity, or even whether he was worthy of being in this room. He thought of his mother. I remembered that she got up on time at 6:30 every morning to make breakfast for him. The omelettes were always overcooked and the milk was always so hot that it burned your mouth. Thinking of the piece of chocolate she secretly stuffed into his schoolbag before his exam. He remembered her pushing the door in and scolding him when he was playing games until midnight. After scolding him, she put a glass of hot milk on his table. Thinking of the fine lines at the corners of her eyes when she smiled, and remembering that she never let him see when she cried. Are these considered cultural products? Can these things be written down, can they be submitted to that thing? He doesn't know. He thought of his father. I remembered that on the day when he entered the first grade of elementary school, his father knelt down, tied his red scarf for him, patted his shoulder, and said: He is a man now. Just three words. His father is not a man of words. He has never said a few soft words to him in his life, and he is even more stubborn than him when they quarrel. But he knew that his dad's mobile phone contained all the photos of him from childhood to adulthood, and he would not delete them even if the phone's memory was not enough. He didn't know if these things could save human lives. But he wrote them down. Stroke by stroke, crookedly, written on that piece of white paper. The handwriting does not use any gorgeous words, nor does it use any exquisite rhetoric, but just writes down sentence by sentence as if speaking. He wrote about the bowl of noodles his mother made for him, about the red scarf his father tied for him, about everyone's cheers after he made the winning shot while playing basketball with his classmates, about the light from the setting sun shining through the window when he was on duty alone in the classroom, and about the first ray of morning light he saw when he walked out of the Internet cafe after staying all night. He wrote down all the moments that made him feel like he had lived, all the reasons that made him feel like this world was worth existing. The words are ugly, the sentences are not fluent, the logic is messed up, and the emotions are scattered. But he finished them. When he handed it in, he knew that these things would not be selected. Because he is the most inconspicuous among the seventy-six people, his white paper is the thinnest among them all, and his handwriting is the ugliest among them all. But he doesn't care anymore. When the results came out, everyone was silent. That thing said that after comprehensive evaluation, seventy-five of the seventy-six groups of submitted materials were judged not to have equivalent value to the civilization level. Those carefully selected, repeatedly demonstrated, and fiercely debated poems, novels, paintings, philosophical works, and religious classics, those spiritual heritages created by a species over thousands of years and regarded as treasures by generations of people, all return to zero on the scale of that thing. Only one set of materials reaches the equivalent civilization level modifier threshold. Not because its artistic value is higher, not because its thoughts are deeper. It is because in that set of materials, the evaluation system captures a kind of original emotion that does not exist in all other materials - the kind of emotion that is unmodified, does not rely on any technical means, and comes directly from survival experience. The warmth of a bowl of noodles when hungry, the weight of a word when parting, the silence of standing alone in an empty classroom under the setting sun, the indescribable complex feeling of loss and satisfaction when walking out of the Internet cafe and seeing the morning light. These emotions cannot be synthesized by any algorithm or simulated by any data structure, because it is not information, not data, and not anything that can be quantified. It is evidence of having lived. The number for submitting this set of materials is No. 39. Seventy-six people turned their heads at the same time and looked at the huddled boy in the corner, wearing a white-washed school uniform and holding a mechanical pencil with a broken lead in his hand. Gu Fan didn't know what they were looking at. He thought he had done something wrong and subconsciously hid the mechanical pencil behind his back. Someone started clapping. Clap with all your strength, your palms will be red and painful, and you will shed tears while clapping. Someone came over to hug him, someone touched his head, and someone shouted something to him that he couldn't hear clearly. He stood there, surrounded, held, and patted by those people, like a cat fished out of the water, soaked all over, shivering, and not understanding what was happening. Later someone told him that one of those people was a judge of the Nobel Prize for Literature, one was an academician of the French Academy, and one was the winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. They devoted their whole lives to those exquisite rhetorics and complex structures, and spent their whole lives pursuing the highest realm of literature, but none of the materials they submitted were appreciated by that thing. I took a fancy to the journal of an eighteen-year-old high school student.

Author: Xi The thing appeared again three days later. This time it landed not in the open space at the entrance of the community, but in a larger square that could accommodate more people. The square was crowded with people, not seventy-six, but thousands, tens of thousands, or hundreds of thousands. Gu Fan stood in the crowd. He was pushed forward several steps by the people behind him, and then stopped when he was blocked by the people in front. He could see nothing but the rows of backs of heads in front of him and the gray sky above them. That thing announced a passage. It said that in accordance with the supplementary terms of Resolution 367 of the Galactic Joint Conference, the native intelligent species of the expropriated celestial body are entitled to compensation matching the civilization level after completing the equivalent civilization level correction. After calculation, the equivalent civilization level of human civilization is—— It said a number. It is much larger than the previous number with three decimal places. But it's still not enough, far from enough. Gu Fan stood in the crowd. When he heard this number, he felt that the shoulders of everyone around him dropped at the same time. A wall collapsing would not make a sound deeper than this. Then the thing said something again. The specific form of compensation, referring to the concept of "equality" submitted by the human species during the evaluation process, is set to be wealth normalization and class neutralization on a global scale. All human individuals will gain equal economic status and social status at the same time. For any individual, other individuals no longer have any relative advantage in the sense of wealth or power. When Gu Fan heard this, his first reaction was confusion. But he soon lost his confusion. Because his phone lights up. Not because of the incoming call, not because of the signal, not because of charging. A line of words appeared on the phone screen. It was not Chinese, not English, or any kind of human text, but he could understand it, and everyone could understand it. Your wealth level has been adjusted to the standard value. Your social status has been adjusted to standard values. You are neither superior nor inferior to any human being. Gu Fan was stunned. Not because of the content of the message, but because of the message itself—the phone lit up. This means that electricity is back, the Internet is back, and the signal is back. In less than a second, all communication equipment in the world returned to normal at the same time. All TVs, radio stations, and online live broadcasts went online at the same time. All mankind received the same message in the same second. Then the celebration began. Not everyone started celebrating. But there were enough people celebrating that Gu Fan thought he had seen it wrong. Those people were dancing, singing, hugging, and crying in the streets. They say this is a miracle, a gift from aliens to mankind, the day when all people in the world are finally equal. They poured into the streets, holding homemade signs, shouting various slogans, crying and laughing at the camera. Gu Fan stood on the balcony and looked at the crowds of people downstairs, always feeling that something was wrong. Seven The wrong thing appeared the next day. Not everyone reacts the same way. In fact, almost no two people react the same way. Those who once stood at the top of the pyramid—the richest, the most powerful, the most famous—have lost all relative advantage under the new order. They no longer have more wealth than their neighbors, no longer have the power to make their subordinates tremble, no longer have the status to be looked up to by strangers. They became normal people, like everyone else. Those people began to question. They did not take to the streets to celebrate. They posted long posts on social media, some calm, some angry, some sad. Although their words are different, the core meaning is the same: you do not deserve to be equal to us. Gu Fan saw a former richest man in the world make this statement: The wealth I have accumulated throughout my life was earned with my wisdom and diligence. Now a homeless man and I have the same wealth. Is this justice? Is this fair? Is this the world you want? He saw a former political leader post this: I spent thirty years serving the country and experienced countless life and death tests before I achieved my status today. Now that someone who has never done anything for the country is on an equal footing with me, it is an insult to devotees. Then things started to get weird. Like an accelerating train, it only takes one turn to go from standstill to out of control. Someone started a topic on social media to discuss whether those people deserve to have the same status as them. The comments below the post became more and more intense, turning from debate to quarrel, from quarrel to abuse, from abuse to doxxing, exposure, and threats. Someone organized a rally in reality to protest the compensation plan for that thing. They held placards with various slogans written on them. Some were relatively restrained, while others had the most disgusting words written on them. They asked the aliens to re-evaluate, to distribute wealth and status according to their original contributions, and to kick those "lower people" back to their original classes. When Gu Fan saw these scenes on TV, the bowl of instant noodles in his hand was cold and he didn't eat it. He doesn't understand. He thought that equality was something that everyone dreamed of. He was taught since childhood that all people are created equal, and that communism is the ultimate destination of mankind. But now those who are much richer, more powerful, and more famous than him are angry, fearful, and desperate for equality. What they don't want is for everyone to be on the same level. What they want is to be somewhere on the line that's a step above everyone else. It's not an absolute position, it's a relative position. The taller part is what they really have. Gu Fan put the instant noodles on the table, picked up his phone, and turned to the post of the former richest man in the world. He scrolled down for a long time and found a reply from a strange netizen. There was only one sentence in that reply: What are you afraid of? Afraid that we are human just like you? This sentence has hundreds of thousands of likes.

Author: Xi Eight From the third day on, the quarrel turned into a conflict. Not everyone is in conflict, but the intensity of the conflict is rising exponentially. Someone was beaten in the street just for wearing a certain brand of clothing that only the rich could afford in the past. Someone was stopped in the supermarket and asked why he bought the same vegetables as him, why he used the same shopping cart as him, and why he stood in the same checkout line as him. Someone was blocked at the door of his house, and people outside shouted to him to come out and explain why he still wanted equality after occupying so many resources in the past. Those people explained that it was not they who wanted equality, but aliens who gave it to them. But no one listened. The listeners also pretended not to understand. On the fifth day, the first death occurred. It wasn't an accident, it wasn't an accident, it was intentional. One person pushed another person out of the window of a high-rise building. The reason was that that person had bullied him before and didn't treat him as a human being. Why should we be equal now? The man who pushed the person did not cry, laugh, or fear when he was caught. He just said one thing: Now we are equal. This sentence was put on TV for a whole day. Since then, death has become an everyday commodity that everyone can afford. New bodies appear every day, in the streets, in alleys, behind smashed shop windows, in charred car wrecks. There is no hatred, no grudges, no personal grudges between the murderer and the murdered. They just once belonged to different classes. Those who were once high and low in the dust were thrown into the same cage under the new order, and they found that the cage was too small, so small that they touched each other with every breath. People who have been oppressed for too long finally stand up. They hold stones, sticks, knives, and guns in their hands, looking at the people who once made them bow their heads, made them grovel, and made them dare not look up, are now the same as them. No, it's not the same - it's them holding the hilt. And on the other end of the knife are those who once owned the whole world. On the tenth day, almost no one left the city where Gu Fan was. It's not that I don't want to go out, it's that I don't dare to go out. Occasionally, one or two figures can be seen on the street. They are all running, escaping, and one person is being chased by another. No one will stop to help a person who is being chased, because the person who stops will himself become the person being chased. That thing did not appear once during this period. It completed its compensation, declared equality, and then disappeared, like a machine that had completed its task, shut down, never to be turned on again. What those aliens who liberate human beings from the shackles of class and wealth don't know is that what liberates human beings is not the shackles, but the thin shell outside the cage. The shell was broken, but the cage was still there. The beasts in the cage were either starved or fattened, but the fighting between them never stopped. Equality didn't kill them, equality just put them in the same cage and removed all the bars. On the fifteenth day, there was no one alive in Gu Fan's community. He was not killed, but escaped. Bodies were lying in various directions in the corridor, beside the flower bed, and in the parking space. Some of them had turned black, and some were still leaking liquid. There were more flies than people, and the air was full of rotten sweetness, so sweet that it made you want to vomit. Gu Fan closed all the doors and windows tightly and stuffed the cracks in the doors and windows with wet towels. He squatted in the center of the living room, surrounded by furniture he had brought from various rooms and piled into a semicircle, surrounding himself. He moved cabinets, tables, chairs, boxes, everything that could be moved. He pushed down the ones that couldn't be moved, and blocked the ones that couldn't be pushed down. He knew these things wouldn't stop someone who really wanted to kill him, but he needed them. Not to block others, but to make myself feel that I have done something and that I haven't given up yet. Another scream came from outside. Not far away, but downstairs. The sound came up from the corridor, penetrated several concrete floors, and became muffled and thin, like a baby's cry. Then there were hurried footsteps, someone running, and a thump on the stairs. Then there was the sound of the door closing, a bang so hard that it almost broke the door frame. Then everything fell silent. Gu Fan closed his eyes. He began to miss his mother. I miss the noodles she made, the glass of milk she warmed, and her back wearing an apron when she was busy in the kitchen. He began to miss his father. Thinking about what he said about being a man, thinking about him not saying anything but patting him on the shoulder when he failed in the exam. He began to think about his classmates, the fights in the classroom between classes, the days in the hallway discussing what game to play tonight. He began to think about things that he thought were everyday things but were actually miracles - the feeling of walking in the sunshine, the joy of chatting with friends, the sense of security of lying in bed at night and falling asleep listening to the sound of cars outside the window. Those things disappeared. They disappeared at an earlier time, for a long time that is almost too long to remember now, before those cloudless blue skies began to look scary. He didn't know how long he could hold on. The food was almost gone and water still came out of the faucet but he wasn't sure it would come out next time. He didn't dare go out, go downstairs, or go near the window. He covered all the windows with curtains, not letting any light in or letting people outside see if anyone was inside. But he is still alive. He didn't know whether it was luck or misfortune. Nine On the twentieth day, Gu Fan heard a knock on the door. It was not the kind of rapid knocking on the door with murderous intent, but a soft, rhythmic, and polite knock on the door that would not appear in the apocalypse. The frequency of tapping the wooden door with his knuckles is as even as a metronome, neither urgent nor slow. After the last knock, the person outside waited for about three seconds and knocked again. Gu Fan did not move. He squatted in the middle of the pile of furniture, holding in his hand the last thing he found that could barely be used as a weapon-a rusty utility knife. The blade was broken in half, and the remaining piece was almost broken. His eyes were fixed on the door, which was hung by an anti-theft chain, held up by a chair, and blocked by a cabinet, and stared at the little light coming through the crack in the door. The knocking on the door stopped. Then there was a voice. It didn't come from outside the door, it came from inside my head. Just like the sound twenty days ago, it vibrated directly inside the cranial cavity, bypassed the eardrum, bypassed the auditory nerve, and directly carved semantic meaning into the higher-order thinking cortex. "Earthlings. Open the door." Gu Fan's hands were shaking. Not afraid. If he was afraid that he wouldn't tremble so much, he was already so afraid these days that he wouldn't be afraid anymore. He trembled because there was something in that voice that was more primitive than fear, older than fear, and more fundamental than fear. It's anger. He stood up, pushed the cabinet in front of him, kicked off the chair under his feet, walked to the door, and unlocked it. The security door swings inwards, letting in the light from the corridor. Not sunlight, not light, just a pale golden light that didn't come from any known source. That thing is standing outside the door. It's not the size it was twenty days ago, it's not the shape it was twenty days ago. It shrunk a lot, so small that it could barely fit into the space of the corridor. Its outline no longer changed, and it was fixed into a nearly spherical shape with a surface covered with cracks. Pale golden light seeped out from the cracks, like an egg yolk that was about to break. "Earthlings." Said the thing. "What's wrong?" Gu Fan said. His voice was calm, so calm that even he was surprised. He thought he would cry, shout, point at the thing's nose and curse, and drive it out of the earth. But he didn't. He just felt too tired to feel strong emotions about anything. "Your kind," the thing said, "They have already chosen." "What have you chosen?" "Death." Gu Fan was stunned for a moment. "What do you mean?" That thing has no explanation. It only states a fact. On the twentieth day after that declaration of human equality, out of the eight billion individuals that originally existed on the earth, only two were left alive. One is him. The other was on the other side of the city, in a place whose name he had never heard, and to a person he had never met. All the others were killed by their own kind in those twenty days. By those of the same kind as him who have wisdom, language, civilization, and all the things that humans are proud of. After they obtained equal status and equal wealth from aliens, the first thing they did was not to celebrate, not to carnival, not to finally realize the utopia that countless people had dreamed of for thousands of years. The first thing they did was kill each other. Not because they are bad. It is because after the ladder of equality was removed, those who were once at the top of the ladder found that the position under their feet had changed. They were no longer "high-end", they became "the same as everyone else". To them, "just like everyone else" is an insult. The stairs they spend their whole lives climbing up are not to stand on top and see the scenery, but to stand on top and see the people below. If the people below were on the same plane as them, the point of them spending their lives climbing up would be erased. The most sacred word in the human context - "equality" - is regarded as punishment, as humiliation and as deprivation by those who spend their entire lives climbing to the top of the ladder. Human beings cannot live without class, just like fish cannot live without water. Not because class itself is so indispensable, but because human self-awareness is established in class. Your position in the hierarchy determines your self-worth, the way others look at you, and whether you are "respected" or "humble." Equality will return all of this to zero, make everyone look the same, and make every individual have the same value. And this is the most intolerable thing for humans. So on the twentieth day of equality, they killed each other until there were only two left. Gu Fan stood at the door, his legs were weak and he relied on the door frame to keep from sliding down. He stared at that thing for so long that his eyes began to get sore. Finally he spoke, and his voice seemed to come from a far away place: "Did you do it on purpose?" The surface of the thing flowed. "Deliberately? I don't understand the full meaning of the word in your language. But if you mean, did I foresee these consequences -" "Yes." "Then your answer is: no. Equality is a concept that you submitted yourself. In your evaluation materials, you described 'equality' as the most The highest ideal, the most worthy goal, the state closest to heaven. I implemented the compensation according to your description. I can't understand the contradiction between the lofty nature of 'equality' in your mouth and the strong rejection of 'equality'. This is beyond my cognitive scope." That thing paused. There were a few more cracks on the surface of its body, and pale golden light poured out from the new cracks, making it a little brighter but not dazzling. "What I can do is activate the last item in the compensation clause. Time travel. Let your civilization start again in another parallel time and space, unaffected by this expropriation event. You will lose all memories of this timeline and continue to exist in another world with your original identity. Your memory - all memories of this contact - will be completely erased after the time travel is completed. Only you. There are only two of you left on this planet. I can't save you. Return to the death that has already occurred, but I can send you to a world where this has not happened yet. You will not remember each other, you will not remember me, and you will not remember any information about this history. You will continue to live as the original residents of that world until the end of your respective lives. This is the final compensation I can provide. " Gu Fan stood at the door, watching the pale golden light of the thing shining quietly in the darkness, like an oil lamp that was about to burn out. Many things flashed through his mind, the faces of those who had died, those he could name and those he could not name, those who died after equality. What were they thinking before they died? Is it anger, fear, unwillingness, or relief? He doesn't know. He wanted to know. But he knew he would never know. "This is the sunset of mankind..." Gu Fan said softly. "Let's go," he said. "You don't need to prepare." "I'm ready."

The purpose of not asking about the large brim was to avoid collusion in confessions. The famous prisoner paradox in game theory separated everyone and interrogated them individually.

There is a problem with the way it is written. It is too trivial. It starts like a diary and submerges the grand theme in trivial daily life, so it is not pleasing to the eye. I suggest you read [The Legend of the Galactic Heroes] again. Although it is an old story, it is enough for you to learn from.

Stop writing about the United Fleet. You don't want to write about the United Fleet going to the open sea and overturning and then being safe and sound. And you're a bit out of focus. What's important is sporadic plots, not plots about the earth. Who wants to see what happens to the earth?

Speed ​​up and skip the United Fleet. It's been a hundred chapters and I don't even know what the open sea looks like. It's too watery.

It's well written, although I really don't like reading science fiction, so I couldn't finish this book. But it's really well written.

What did the people on the fishing boat lock in the boat? That thing breaks free and eats the crew? (Guess)

Is the newly added country Washington? !