Yang Ming rubbed his forehead.
Refugee tide.
It meant that even if Earth had won in the Faya people's game and ended up in the top three out of five, it wouldn't result in lifting the space-time bubble around the Solar System. Instead, Earth's humans would be cleared out and dumped into powerful nations of the Milky Way, seeking a new home.
It wasn't Earth that advanced, it was Earth's humanity that advanced.
Then Earth would recuperate for a period, allowing the greenhouse to restore its ecology and vitality, before seeding a new batch of either Stone Age or Bronze Age civilizations to develop anew.
The importance of the Pioneer seeking political status lay here, as he needed to arrange for the sudden increase of population in the billions or even tens of billions.
"How ironic, isn't it?"
The young man laughed self-deprecatingly, "Our so-called homeland is just borrowed soil; does everything we do really matter? I often ask myself that."
"Is it meaningless?" Yang Ming asked.
