A3-02 Pressing the Button

You press the button.

No hesitation. No second thoughts. The moment your index finger pushes down, you feel a strange calm — like standing at the edge of a cliff and finally leaping, the fear vanishing in the instant of the jump.

The button depresses less than a centimeter. A crisp click.

All data on the screens vanishes simultaneously, replaced by a single line of text:

Gravitational wave broadcast initiated.

Above you, on the Earth's surface, three gravitational wave antennas activate simultaneously. The massive antenna arrays — each spanning several square kilometers — begin transmitting gravitational waves at maximum power in every direction of the universe.

The information carried by the gravitational waves is simple:

Two sets of coordinates. Earth's position. The Trisolaran system's position (Alpha Centauri).

This information expands into the cosmic deep at the speed of light. Every second, it covers an additional 300,000 kilometers of space. No force can recall it, revoke it, or stop it.

You have just written the addresses of two civilizations on the walls of the universe.

The Trisolaran response is nearly instantaneous.

The droplets — those six probes hurtling toward the antennas — suddenly cease accelerating. Their trajectories curve into deceleration arcs on the screens.

Then a communication channel opens.

A voice — artificially synthesized, yet carrying a tremor you have never heard before — fills your chamber:

"Why?"

You stare at the screen. It is a transmission from the Trisolaran world. The sophons have relayed the voice across four light-years.

"Why? We thought you wouldn't press it. Every analysis indicated you wouldn't. You are Cheng Xin. You are the kindest among all humans. Why did you press it?"

Your voice is hoarse: "Because you attacked."

"But you know what this means. You have destroyed two worlds. Your world and ours. You have destroyed everything."

"You struck first," you say. But your voice is already shaking.

Silence.

Then the voice speaks its final words. These words will echo through the rest of your life:

"But only one person pressed the button. That person is you."

Communication terminates.

You sit in the chamber, your finger still on the button. The button is meaningless now — the broadcast has been sent, irreversible.

But you cannot lift your finger. As if releasing it would force you to face what you have just done.

The gravitational waves expand at the speed of light. Someday — perhaps in a few years, perhaps in a few decades — some distant civilization will receive these coordinates. Then a "cleansing strike" will descend.

The form of the strike is unpredictable. It could be a photoid — a star accelerated to near light speed. It could be a two-dimensional foil — compressing an entire star system into two dimensions. It could be some weapon humanity cannot even imagine.

But the outcome is certain: both Earth and the Trisolaran system will be destroyed.

It is only a matter of time.

You slowly release the button. You stand. Your legs tremble.

Outside the door, your assistant rushes in. "Ms. Cheng Xin — the broadcast — the antennas —"

"I know." Your voice is hollow. "Tell everyone to prepare."

You walk out of the chamber. The lights in the corridor blaze like the fires of judgment day.