A1-08 Giving a Star

The last month before launch.

You begin visiting Yun Tianming at the hospital frequently. At first it's once a week, then every other day, and finally almost every day.

You tell yourself it's a work necessity — you need to maintain communication with the "payload." But you know that's not it. You visit him because he is going to a place you are sending him, and that place is lonelier than death.

You talk about many things. About university — he always sat in the last row of the lecture hall, while you always sat in the third. About the twice-cooked pork in the cafeteria that was never made right. About the night sky — once your entire department went to the outskirts to watch a meteor shower, and he stood right beside you, but you never noticed.

"I always wanted to talk to you," he says, "but every time you came close, I felt... unworthy. You were too bright."

"What?"

"You're the kind of person — when you walk into a room, everyone's eyes follow you. Not because you're beautiful, though you are — it's because there's a kind of light about you. A light that makes people feel the world is good, that the future has hope."

You don't know how to respond.

One day, he suddenly asks: "Cheng Xin, do you believe the aliens will revive me?"

You are silent for a few seconds. "I don't know." It's the most honest thing you've ever said.

He laughs. "It's fine. Even if they don't revive me, I'll still be the one who flew toward the stars."

Two days before launch.

You are sitting in Yun Tianming's hospital room when he hands you a piece of paper. On it are a string of numbers and a URL.

"I bought you a star," he says.

You are stunned.

"DX3906. A star 286.5 light-years from Earth. Registered with the International Star Registry." He smiles a little sheepishly. "I know it's silly — I spent all my savings, but really it's just a digital certificate. That star won't be any different because of your name. But..."

He looks out the window, his voice very soft.

"But when you look up at the sky, you can know that somewhere in that vast expanse of stars, one of them is yours. One I gave to you."

You bow your head. Tears fall onto the paper.

That is the first time you cry for Yun Tianming.

Launch day.

You stand in the control room, watching the screens. The Staircase Project's probe — that small capsule carrying Yun Tianming's brain — is mounted on a massive acceleration sail.

Nuclear warheads detonate in sequence behind the probe. Each explosion gives it another boost. You watch the velocity readings climb steadily.

Then —

An anomaly during the third-stage acceleration. Part of the sail's structure breaks away. The probe deviates from its planned trajectory.

The control room erupts in chaos.

"Signal lost!" someone shouts.

You stare at the tiny point of light on the screen as it recedes further and further, until it disappears into the darkness.

"Payload status unknown." That is the final report.

Yun Tianming's brain has flown into space, but it has flown in an unknown direction. You don't know if it's intact. You don't know if the Trisolarans will find it. You don't know if he is still "alive."

You don't know anything.

You stand in the control room for a long time, until everyone else has left. In your hand you still clutch that piece of paper — the star certificate for DX3906.

Then you make your decision: to enter hibernation.

You want to sleep until an era that can give you answers.