Steve stood in the artificial light, letting its warm, false glow wrap around his lonely figure. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was forging the great abomination called the "Earth Federation," a cold machine that would divide humanity into privileged and outcasts.
He heard the curses from below, saw the hatred burning in the eyes of the exiled migrants. They would call him tyrant, devil, the cruelest fascist of the 21st century. He accepted these accusations calmly—because he knew this was the only path. It was the road to save both "Earth" and "Human Order," two seemingly contradictory goals, and would be the hardest curve to save the world.
If he became a beloved saint, showered the world with unconditional technological blessings, and brought unprecedented prosperity to civilization amid cheers, the only direct result would be awakening the ultimate predator sleeping beneath South America. When that time came, there would be no more classes or injustice, for the alien [cosmic ray burst] unleashed by the awakened one would reduce everyone to dust.
At least, for those now living in this universe—even those in pain or unwanted situations—there is still a future. Their children and grandchildren will thrive among the stars, forget the Earth, and become accustomed to the laws of the cosmos. A civilization completely destroyed leaves nothing behind.
Moreover, this state cannot last forever. His gaze pierced the city's vision before him, looking into a further future. At most, twenty or thirty years, the last planned migrants would be sent to the SIDE colonies, and only the arrogant descendants of power would remain on the blue planet, thinking they could possess it forever and enjoy eternal peace...
But he would be the one to single-handedly start the interstellar age, tear off his disguise, and ring the death knell for their illusion. At that moment, he would raise his arms and call on all the "new humans" forged in the crucible of space.
He would reveal the truth, channel the anger built up over years, and launch the final, most righteous "revolution" against the long-decayed "homeland." He would use the most violent means to "invite" the last earthlings out of their temple. Only then would his ultimate wish come true—Earth, truly sacred and peaceful, would be protected by all children. And humanity, long departed from the cradle, would finally look up and gaze upon the boundless sea of stars that belonged to them.
With these thoughts, the last trace of turmoil in his heart disappeared. He looked away from the observation tower, his eyes as cold as the vacuum of space.
Back in his private quarters at Asteria Station, he drafted a new directive:
[ODG Executive Directive 001-2001]
To: Global Engineering Department, Railway Construction Group
Subject: Initiation of SIDE Colony Phase II and Phase III Construction Plans
Immediately begin parallel construction of [SIDE-2 "Triconia"] at Lagrange L4 and [SIDE-3 "Xibalba"] at Lagrange L1.
Grant unlimited budget, with core structures to be completed within 36 months and first immigration acceptance standards set within 60 months.
"Triconia" will become the center for heavy industry and military manufacturing; "Xibalba" will focus on agriculture and biotechnology. Begin resource and personnel deployment today.
Increase Project Terra Sancta immigration quota by 150%. Accelerate implementation without delay.
—The Board of Directors
…
Once issued, the wheels of history once again rumbled forward, unwavering on the path he had paved.
In 2001, the first year of the Space Age, countless people's blood, tears, and suffering marked its opening. More migrants were sent to space. SIDE-1 welcomed its first 100,000 residents. Heavy industrial cities began to appear on the vast emptiness of the planets. In some places, the sky truly began to turn blue again.
Everything proceeded as Steve had predicted—until one afternoon half a year later.
Steve sat in his office, reviewing asteroid mining reports. His office, at the very top of Asteria Station, boasted the highest level of physical and information security. No one could enter without his permission, nor could information leak without his knowledge. This was his sanctuary of thought, his absolute domain for ruling the world.
Yet, at this moment, in the corner of his vision, he glimpsed something that should not exist.
It was a person: a girl in a purple long-sleeved top and black pants, standing quietly before the floor-to-ceiling window with her back to him, as if she had been there for a long time. Her hair, short and lilac, was as unnaturally soft as a doll's, with slightly curled ends. She stood silently, as if gazing at the blue planet outside—the one he was methodically "purifying."
His heart nearly stopped. The alarm system was silent, the AI butler gave no prompt. The proud firewall against the most advanced cyberattacks was as useless as paper. This girl was like a ghost, a 'bug' suddenly appearing in his absolute domain, inexplicable by his existing knowledge.
He slowly put down the report in his hand. Though his muscles were taut to the extreme, he maintained absolute calm on the surface. Steve did not ask who she was or how she had entered—he knew such questions were meaningless to those capable of this.
Sensing his gaze, the girl slowly turned around. Her face was expressionless, and her purple pupils, as precise as the most refined instruments, regarded him coldly and emotionlessly—as if breaking down his past, present, future, and all thoughts into fundamental data.
"The first meeting, builder of Babel. Or... may I call you 'Dr. Steve'?" Her voice was very flat, as if reciting a preset calculation. "I am Sion Eltnam Atlasia. By order of the Atlas Institute, I have come to observe and evaluate the dramatic changes you have brought to the realm of future possibilities."
She paused, and for the first time, a trace of curiosity flashed in her violet eyes.
"Your plan... is interesting. Using a grand lie to avert inevitable destruction. Creating class conflict, buying time for civilization's continuity... This kind of calculation is very 'Atlas'-like. But," she tilted her head slightly, "the most important variable is missing from your equation."
"That variable is us—the mysterious beings."
Steve had built a chessboard by his own hand, only for a chess player beyond ordinary cognition to gently toss in a strange new piece.