Chapter V — God is Missing
On the way to the spaceport, I fulfilled my duty by briefing Anton on the essential details and precautions for his Earth journey, as per protocol. Anton didn't respond at all, making it hard to tell if he was actually taking any of it in. Still, it wasn't something I cared about. The number one rule of our tour service is the safety of our clients. Wait, didn't I say earlier that making sure the clients are happy is the top priority? Whatever... don't mind the details. The bottom line is that our tailored travel services are well-established, thoroughly ensuring our clients' safety and... happiness.
Well, to be honest, we never really cared if the customers were happy or not. The cosmos is vast, and for most of these tourists, this trip is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. My only job was to make sure they went back home in one piece. Of course, if a happy traveler slipped me a tip, I wouldn't mind. As for all that jazz about reviving Earth's culture... let's just forget it. Most tourists aren't exactly here to spend their cash on lessons.
We took the elevator down to the transport station below and boarded a hover train reserved for tourists to the spaceport. Anton was unusually quiet during the trip, not inquiring about everything like any other tourist; his look carried a certain disdain. I couldn't help but mutter to myself that the director probably hadn't lied to me about this. This boy's identity was something else, carrying a vibe that kept others at a distance, unapproachable. Yet, strange enough, he didn't seem interested in the trip, even slightly weary, which was weird.
Our hover train zipped through the enclosed track and arrived at the spaceport in no time, where I saw a Falcon Shuttle reserved exclusively for tourists standing by. Tsk, I thought so. This kid was not just anyone. There was no way an average Joe could afford this Falcon Shuttle. Unlike standard shuttles that cram in a crowd, this Falcon Shuttle is usually reserved for VIPs and tailored travels, accommodating only a few. Crafted by Jupiter Industries, Falcon Shuttle's cockpit is positioned up front and features state-of-the-art delta plasma engines at the back, designed for stronger thrust yet shorter tail flames. The passenger section, situated right in the middle, is uniquely connected to both the cockpit and the engines by an external double-ring structure. This design ensures the cabin automatically rotates to maintain a consistent "downward" gravity for passengers when crossing gravitational equilibrium points.
Leading Anton onto the shuttle, I was struck by how roomy it was inside. There we were, the only two people in the expansive cabin, making ourselves comfortable on the luxurious sofas. Suddenly, I found myself not so mad at the director anymore. Handling a VIP client might come with its pains, but on the bright side, as their guide, I could partake in all the upscale services, too.
Across from me, Anton was attracted to the view outside the porthole, revealing a touch of sadness and a maturity that seemed beyond his years. We could see Earth from this angle, though the space elevator was beyond our range of view. At our current distance of about 10,000 kilometers from Earth, the entire globe was visible, yet we were far enough to miss the details. With a curious glance, Anton seemed captivated by Earth. Perhaps this was his first time being this close to Earth. The spaceport we were approaching is situated at the tip of a "spike" extending from the Dawn Ring toward Earth, and its dockyard has no static warp anti-gravity system installed. During our trip to the port, we underwent a shift in gravity, but it didn't seem to bother Anton. In the past, some tourists felt so disoriented by the sudden gravity shift that they threw up like a fountain, causing quite a mess. That is why we now always have barf bags ready, just in case.
I wonder how these children born in the cosmic sea perceive Earth. At the very least, I've never encountered a traveler who genuinely views it as the cradle of their ancestry.
I looked towards Earth, noticing the clear contrast between the deep blue of the oceans and the brown of the continents, with clouds resembling torn cotton wool roaming the planet, their shadows vividly outlined. A tropical storm was taking shape over the Indian Ocean while the Antarctic ice gleamed brilliantly in the sun's rays... The scene was undeniably enchanting.
"First time on Earth?" I asked.
Anton nodded subtly, but his eyes never left the planet below.
As I stumbled into an awkward silence, a cabin announcement mercifully broke the ice. A charming female voice came through, "... Greetings, esteemed passengers, welcome aboard Dawn Tourism Bureau's first-class luxury flight. Our destination is the Kenya Spaceport, located at Ladder No.7. We will be departing shortly; please fasten your seatbelt. The trip is expected to last approximately one hour..."
Immediately after the broadcast went silent, we felt a slight vibration as the shuttle began to move away from its dockyard. Outside the porthole, Earth began to move towards the front of our shuttle—or, to put it another way, beneath our feet. It wasn't long before we were out of the spaceport, flying toward Earth. It was less a flight than a fall, as the rotational velocity of the Dawn Ring is designed to match that of Earth, failing to generate enough centrifugal force to overcome Earth's gravity. Without the static warp anti-gravity system, the ring's inner surface would be uninhabitable. So, technically speaking, even without firing up the engine, our shuttle, under the influence of gravity, would continue to fall towards Earth. If the cabin floor had been transparent, we could've looked down to see the cockpit below us, with the vast expanse of Earth rushing towards us underneath. The shuttle's engines roared to life, propelling us toward Earth at a breakneck pace, pinning us to the floor with a force close to 1G of standard gravity. This might arguably be the final adaptation training for travelers. I peeked at Anton, noticing he had stopped to gaze out the porthole and was instead resting with his eyes shut with no signs of anxiety. Clearly, his adaptive training in the City of Dawn had been effective.
Overall, it was a pleasant trip. Just close your eyes, relax, and envision being on a beach with golden sunshine, surrounded by beauties wearing bikinis... Hmm, of course, if you decide to turn on the virtual reality and set it to the beach scene in adult mode, then you wouldn't have to imagine at all—though, you'd need to be at least eighteen to do such a thing.
At that thought, I couldn't help but open my eyes and look at Anton again, curious about his age. Nowadays, humans, on average, live to about 150 years, yet the rich and powerful can push that boundary to around 300 years with pricey genetic therapy and organ replacement. Quite a leap from the ancient Earthlings, who averaged lifespans of less than eighty years. Despite these advancements in longevity, the durations of human childhood and adolescence remain unchanged, with adulthood still commencing at around 18. At first glance, Anton seemed to be around fifteen, but determining age solely based on appearance can be tricky. I once had a tourist from the Cetus N2337h Star System in one of my groups, thinking he was around my age, only to find out he was actually over two hundred years old. He laughed heartily when he found out and left me a generous tip. Clearly, I got lucky with my guess. If it had been the other way around, I might have received a complaint instead of a tip. Therefore, we generally avoid directly inquiring about a client's age to prevent potential issues, but guessing their ages has become a bit of fun to pass the time on journeys.
Old Larry once told me a secret for guessing a tourist's age: don't just look at their face; observe their eyes. Elders carry a sense of time in their gaze, easily stirred by the monumental legacies of ancient Earth. Younger folks, in their prime, have eyes that gleam with the thrill of discovery, captivated by everything Earth has to offer, though their interest may die down quickly. Rebellious teens, on the other hand, have eyes filled with boredom and impatience, showing little to no interest in Earth. As for Anton... Initially, I figured he was around fifteen, but now I'm second-guessing myself.
I leaned back in my chair, ready to catch a quick nap. Anton suddenly opened his eyes and asked me a question, "Jason, are you always dealing with visitors from beyond the Terran Sphere?"
I snapped to attention and replied, "Yes, Anton. Earth is the cradle of all humanity, our common home. We hope that every distant offspring can revisit their roots."
"That sounds like a line from your manual," Anton said with a smile. "You seem to be good at your job. But I'm looking for some truth. Like, I'm really curious about why the Terran Sphere Government has opened Earth for tourism. As far as I'm aware, they're known for their conservative policy."
I mentally shook my head, realizing this guy wasn't just some frivolous rich kid. "That was before the war," I explained. "The Terran Sphere Government's intention was merely to prevent the war from spreading to Earth. There's an old saying on Earth, 'A wise man does not stand under a crumbling wall,' which means one should stay away from trouble."
"I happen to know an ancient Earth saying, 'When the snipe and the clam compete, the fisherman wins,' oh and one more, 'Sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight.' You guys are trying to rebuild faith among humanity in the cosmic sea, am I correct?" Anton wasn't ready to let me off the hook, and his approach became more aggressive.
"Sorry, come again?" I was confused.
"Earth, you all try to make Earth a beacon of faith for all humans, right?"
I shrugged, "Anton, I'm not interested in such a thing, nor do I care whether anyone believes in Earth. As you can see, I'm a tour guide, and making my clients happy is my top priority."
Anton smiled, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with my words. It left me feeling a bit exposed as if he had unraveled something about me. Nevertheless, this was the first instance of his smile; it seemed like we had broken the ice a bit.
"By the way, where are you from?" I asked, hoping to keep the vibe going.
"You won't be interested." Anton shook his head. Cool, the ice hadn't changed a bit.
Before we knew it, the shuttle was approaching its destination—the counterweight spaceport at the end of Space Elevator No.7. Our bodies started feeling lighter, a sign the shuttle was decelerating its engines. As our weight decreased, the view outside began to spin, meaning the passenger cabin was realigning itself. Initially, our acceleration had compensated for Earth's gravitational pull and even added an extra 0.5G of force. As the shuttle decelerated, we became progressively weightless, floating momentarily before the cabin completed its rotation, pulling us downward with the gravity on Earth.
It's undeniable that Jupiter Industries' design is top-notch.
Falcon Shutter landed smoothly on the Sky Tower; we wouldn't have known we'd arrived without the broadcast announcement. At this point, we were at the very end of the Ladder No.7's counterweight spaceport. Next, we would take a pot straight down to Earth, leaving the ring-shaped commercial district.
Stepping off the shuttle, Anton and I made our way down the docking passageway to the transfer hall located on the port's mid-level. In fact, it seemed like a gigantic circular plaza instead of a hall. The plaza was located on the mid-level of the spaceport, boasting an open and expansive area. In the middle of the area, a control tower with glass on all four sides provided a panoramic view over the plaza. This place served as the transfer hub between Ladder No.7 and the City of Dawn, with daily cargo freight distributed here for transit down to Earth. Now and then, goods and travelers from Earth would catch a lift up to the City of Dawn here, though in much smaller volumes.
We had to complete a thorough inspection in the plaza's central area, a standard protocol to prevent any potential ecological threats to Earth before we were allowed through customs to the departure zone.
Despite the Tourism Bureau's efforts to expedite our clearance, Anton was visibly annoyed by the procedure. As we made our way to the pod after security, he complained, "Earth's procedures are overkill. Why all this fuss? Can't a shuttle just land directly?"
"That would never be allowed." I shook my head.
"Why?"
With patience, I clarified, "You see, this place serves as the last checkpoint before entering Earth, guarded by armed recon satellites and assault ships. No ship is allowed to enter Earth's atmosphere without a clearance. It's all part of Terran Sphere's commitment to preserving the planet's ecology, preventing any potentially damaging element that could contaminate or harm the environment from entering."
"Why?" he asked again.
This simple question caught me off guard. I had presumed it was general knowledge. "Because... It's all about safeguarding Earth. This planet is not quite the same as it was before."
"Don't assume I know nothing about Earth. I've browsed through some records in the database," the boy said, curling his lip in disdain, "Earth's surface is filled with many cities built of steel, where countless people live packed together, almost like a giant prison. How do you manage to live like that?"
I shrugged in response, considering how folks from the cosmic seas have spent years getting used to the infinite expanse of space, finding solace in the vastness and the life aboard different space habitats. They prefer not to be in crowded places and have an aversion to the gravitational pull of planets. These kids of the cosmos have already grown to resent the habitats of their forebears. How does that phrase go? The troubles of growing up?
"I guess the data you've seen are from ancient times, probably the Dawn Era, right?" I led him through a downward-spiraling ramp on our way to the pod station. "Earth has changed since then. The cities you spoke of have been abandoned for ages, and most people now reside in the City of Dawn, leaving only a few to get the chance to visit the planet's surface."
"You mean there are people living down there?" he questioned.
"Absolutely," I nodded, "Some are patrols, and others work in heritage sites, not to forget the museum employees. We've left the cities behind, but not everything was forsaken. There are legacies from those times, invaluable even back then that needed safeguarding. A detailed protection plan has been developed by the Terran Sphere Government, enveloping all of humanity's heritage deemed significant. As for the heritage..."
I looked at Anton, noticing his hands were in his pockets, looking around aimlessly. He seemed not interested at all in what I was saying. I sighed to myself. Supposedly, our tour had started the moment I picked up Anton in the City of Dawn. According to the guide manual, I'm supposed to brief the tourists on Earth before we actually arrive, but truth be told, most of them couldn't care less. As a result, guides have gradually started skipping this part, and it's not just the tourists who are doing this—many of the youths in the City of Dawn nowadays are just as detached from Earth's history.
Leaving the spiral walkway behind, we found ourselves in a circular departure hall. Its centerpiece was a sturdy pillar about ten meters in diameter. Surrounding the pillar were four symmetrically placed double-sealed doors. In fact, this was not a pillar; it was our pod we were about to board. In fact, the space elevator's overall diameter was fifty meters, resembling a massive bundle of fiber optic cables, with many thinner branch cables wrapped within. It featured nine branch channels, enabling nine elevators to operate concurrently, moving both ways. They said when the first space elevator was built on Kalimantan Island, a world-class poet ventured up the space elevator to the spaceport—for the first time, witnessing the shape of the Earth with his own eyes. Upon returning to the ground, he penned a famous poem:
God is Missing
In Babylon, a place of old,
Our ancestors aspired to a tower that would reach the sky.
Mere humans, trying to peer into God.
Yet, God forbade such acts,
Our languages mixed,
Our words jumbled, into tribes did we divide,
God denied our quest with a firm decree,
The tower of tall collapsed.
Millennia hence, today,
Our descendants, in different tongues,
Rebuilt the Tower of Babylon,
As we ascend to heaven's door,
For we found,
God is missing.
Today, historians and scientists agree that building the space elevator was the moment humanity first truly held the key to exploring the cosmic sea. Without it, the dawn of the space era would have remained out of reach. It was only in the wake of this monumental achievement that humanity could make subsequent advancements, such as the development of warp drive and the discovery of Lagrange Points, propelling our kind further into the vastness of space.
It was such a wonderful golden era when humanity finally mastered controllable nuclear fusion technology, permanently solving the energy crisis and making our first attempts to escape the gravity well that had confined us for eons. The significance and profound impact of the space elevator was often underestimated. During that era of exploration, as the first light of the Great Navigation Era dawned, the emergence of the space elevator was as significant as the moment life first emerged from the depths of the oceans to tread upon our land.
As we approached one of the sealed doors, the sensor automatically scanned our personal information and permissions, prompting the light above to switch to green and the door to glide open without a sound. Inside, the pod was cozily furnished. The floor was decked with a synthetic wool carpet embroidered with complex designs from an ancient Earth civilization, offering a plush sensation. The entire ceiling was a holographic screen that could also serve as lighting. Surrounding circular walls were made of transparent windows, allowing passengers to enjoy the view from any direction.
I gestured for Anton to take a seat, reminding him, "Make sure your seatbelt is fastened. You'll first experience a brief moment of zero-G, but there's no need to worry. Once the elevator starts to descend at a steady pace, we'll regain standard gravity on Earth, and you can unfasten your seatbelt by then."
After Anton settled into his seat, I found a spot and sat down as well. Before long, the elevator started its descent.
At first, the elevator's downward acceleration gave us a weightlessness, near-floating sensation. However, it wasn't long before the elevator evened out its descent, and the familiar pull of Earth's gravity was back. I unbuckled my seatbelt and gestured to Anton that he could do the same. Getting up, I walked over to Anton, looking out the window, "We are on our way down to Earth, headed for a landing at the Kenya Spaceport in central Africa in around an hour. Feel free to look outside; views like this are rare."
Anton stood up and walked to the porthole, looking down without showing any sign of discomfort. For most travelers from the cosmic sea, descending toward a planet in a space elevator is an unprecedented experience. From where we were, we couldn't see the elevator's structure; all we could see was the immense arc of Earth closing in on the horizon. The rapid descent caused the curve of the Earth to shift visibly, making the ground appear to surge towards us, creating an illusion of falling into an abyss. Typically, when tourists witness this view for the first time, they step back without realizing it, some even letting out a scream.
Yet, Anton was super chill about it, which took me by surprise. He seemed captivated by the shape of Earth and couldn't take his eyes off the curve at the edge of the sky. After a bit, he finally looked down at the ground below us. A thin line stretched out from under our feet, disappearing into the brownish land. That line's endpoint was the spaceport at the beginning of Ladder No.7 in Kenya, but we were too far away to make out anything.
"You don't seem scared," I had to ask.
"Why would I be scared?" Anton countered.
"Usually, tourists I meet are a bit scared," I said, pointing to the fast-approaching Earth outside the window. "This kind of experience isn't common for travelers from the cosmic sea, right?"
Anton let out a smile, "You got that right. When was this space elevator built?"
"Hmm... hard to say; it's been revamped and expanded several times, kind of like it's been rebuilt. If you're curious about the original version, it was over 2,700 years ago."
"That long ago?" Anton looked at me, surprised.
"Right," I confirmed, "At that time, humans weren't fully in space yet; just a few had made it to the Moon and Mars. Back then, we were pretty behind the curve; the solar system seemed like a big, untamable ocean to us. According to history, when humans first started building the space elevator, they had just figured out the whole energy dilemma—yep, that's the controllable nuclear fusion thing and the issue with materials. That's when they began building the space elevator. The first one was put up on Kalimantan Island, which is, you know, a big island in Oceania..." Looking east across the vast Indian Ocean from the eastern part of Africa, I could barely see a patch of land through the clouds, unsure if it was Kalimantan Island.
I continued, "That ancient space elevator had only one pod, which could only hold up to four people. They even had to wear space suits in case of leaks. Plus, it was super slow. Nowadays, it takes only an hour. Back then? It took at least ten hours because the materials and the tech were pretty behind; they couldn't make the elevator go too fast. If you look at it now, that space elevator was practically a kid's toy."
"I don't get it," Anton said, furrowing his brow a bit, "If the materials and technology were so behind, why bother building a space elevator at all?"
I pondered for a moment before asking, "Do you know about the first time people went to the Moon?"
Anton shook his head.
I put up three fingers. "Three astronauts, squeezed into a spacecraft where you can barely turn around, riding a rocket all the way to space. It took them three whole days to reach the Moon," I explained. "At the time, there were millions of people working hard on the moon mission, and the computers they used were really primitive... kind of like, believe it or not, they said the program was put together using knitting yarn..."
"Programming with knitting yarn?" Anton looked genuinely interested. "Never heard of that before. How does yarn turn into code?"
I shrugged, feeling a bit silly for bringing it up. Honestly, I'd only seen that phrase tossed around in some really old documents and didn't have a clue what it meant. I brushed it off with a wave, "Ignore that; it's not the point. The thing is, landing on the Moon back then was like sailing across the Pacific on a raft. But they went for it. It was an era filled with such daring feats, so the drive to construct a space elevator came from a belief that humanity's destiny lies in the cosmic sea."
Anton seemed touched by what I said, gazing out at the view in silence for a while before responding, "They pulled it off."
"Yes, they surely did. That first space elevator, as primitive as it was, provided a wealth of experience and lessons for the future ones. Moreover, it transported a vast amount of materials to space, marking the first time humans built a spacecraft manufacturing center up there. Looking back, that manufacturing center seems pretty basic now, but it was a huge leap in tech for humanity. Plus, rumor has it that many consortiums were behind it, with some still in operation today."
"Oh?" The kid seemed even more interested in this topic, "For example?"
"It's all hearsay, don't take it seriously. For example, Uranus Development Foundation, Phaethon, and so on are rumored to be the power behind it. But it's been ages, and these stories are pretty much unverifiable now."
Anton looked at me, something unspoken in his eyes, "Phaethon?"
"Right. It's said that the Trujillo clan, Dubois Family, Trudecim, and others were involved in constructing the first space elevator. Though these things are all tales now, who can say for sure?" After a moment, I continued, "Oh, and that spacecraft manufacturing center is still around. It ended up as an exhibit at the Human Space Exploration Museum in the Alpha District of the City of Dawn. If you're curious, you might want to swing by for a visit once you're back."
Anton didn't seem too interested in my offer, instead looking back out the window. A little later, he asked softly, "What about the original space elevator? Is it still there?"
I shook my head, "No, it's not around anymore. It got destroyed in an accident later on."
"It did?"
"Yep, and many people were killed in that accident."I shrugged, "Back then, stuff like that happened all the time; it wasn't really a big deal."
"Yeah, not a big deal," he muttered.
At that moment, the holographic screen above us turned on, drawing our attention. On it, a news reporter with a grave expression announced, "...Breaking news, the situation at the front is escalating. The united fleet of the Terran Sphere has made it through the Stargate into the Wasteland Star System, and the Antonios Consortium's fleet hasn't fired a shot. Both fleets are reported to be in a deadlock. Meanwhile, there's been no comment from the spokesperson of NOMA Shipping Group. Stay tuned to our channel for continuous updates. Next, we'll hear from renowned space political analyst and Space Social Morphology Professor Mo Siyan, along with galaxy historian and Hermann University History Department Professor Hershey Lawrence, sharing their insights on the matter..."
Taking a deep breath, I couldn't help but feel the outlook was dire. Should the fleets engage, it would likely lead to an outright war between the Terran Sphere and the Antonios Consortium. Suddenly, a bizarre idea struck me: if war broke out, tourists would stop coming, and I would probably end up unemployed. Perhaps this mysterious kid could be the final guest of my career.
Neither of us spoke another word until we arrived at the spaceport.
