Chapter VII — Lonely Giant
After leaving the museum, we boarded the shuttle, heading to our next destination—Easter Island. During the ride, Anton pulled up the holographic globe again, turning it back and forth with gestures that brought lands and seas into view.
"Actually, Earth is quite special," Anton remarked, raising his head.
"Of course," I replied, somewhat surprised by his comment, "Earth is the home of everyone."
"I have read a book once." Anton mentioned, "It's called Voyage by an author named K. Nat, which was about Earth. Though I didn't fully understand it, there was a line I remembered: 'Many have shown me how it might be possible to replicate Earth, but all they've done is emphasize how irreplaceable it is.' I think I’m starting to get what that means now. There are countless planets in the Milky Way, but Earth is always the most extraordinary one."
I nodded and agreed, knowing well that the "countless" he spoke of represented a ridiculously large number, with rocky planets in our galaxy estimated to be in the billions.
As far as I was aware, well before humanity stepped into the Great Navigation Era, there were numerous science fiction novels and films filled with visions of the future, some of which have become classics and are still known today. In many of these sci-fi films about the future, humans colonized the entire galaxy, living on different planets and developing varied new civilizations. It's truly amazing to think about the creativity of those from earlier times. These works did predict humanity's transformation into a spacefaring race and even envisioned empires that spanned the galaxy. Yet, in one way or another, their predictions about the future were off the mark. Unlike the scenarios depicted in science fiction, humans have not settled on various planets across the galaxy. In reality, Earth-like planets in the Milky Way are much less common than scientists originally predicted. Back in ancient times, an idea called the "Rare Earth Hypothesis" prevailed for millennia, claiming Earth was a unique exception across the galaxy. But as astronomical observation techniques advanced, humanity quickly identified tens of thousands of planets, realizing that Earth was merely one of the trillions of planets in the galaxy. The belief in Earth's uniqueness soon vanished, replaced by an optimism that habitable planets were abundant across the galaxy. Yet, it was only after humans began exploring through the Lagrange Gate that we discovered the truth: genuinely habitable Earth-like planets were incredibly scarce. Plus, the so-called "terraforming" projects turned out to be far more challenging and extensive than humans had initially imagined. Scientists from that era believed that humans could transform an Earth-like planet into a habitable second Earth in just a few thousand or even a few hundred years. I have no idea how they figured that out, considering even a tour guide like myself knows that Earth took 4.5 billion years to develop into an environment suitable for humans to live without breathing masks. Trying to change a completely different planet in a few hundred years is pure fantasy.
Before the immense power of nature, humans were insignificant.
Anton waved his hand, shutting down the holographic Earth display. "What I'm saying is, we've been exploring the galaxy for thousands of years after entering Great Navigation Era, yet we've hardly found any planets suitable for human habitation."
"It's quite simple," I snapped my fingers. "Our bodies are designed for Earth. Our anatomy and the way we process energy are all optimized for this planet. Finding another planet where we could live mask-free without needing any modifications might be even more challenging than locating a unique grain of sand in the Sahara Desert."
"Even just for similar grains of sand, we've found merely two, and we've lost one." Anton said wryly.
I knew he was referring to "Second Home" and the Garden Planet, controlled by the Antonios Consortium. In our galaxy, Earth-like planets are much fewer than initially anticipated. As far as I know, though humanity's reach has extended to a third of the galaxy, only two planets have ever been identified as viable for terraforming and habitation: "Second Home" and "Garden Planet" near the City of Antontas in the Garden Star System. Furthermore, post-war, the whereabouts of "Second Home" have vanished from the map of stars. The remaining Garden Planet has become the only candidate that could potentially become Earth's successor, yet the Antonios Consortium seems to have little interest in transforming it.
Moreover, I doubt that even if Garden Planet could be turned into a second habitable planet or if humans are able to discover more planets that could be terraformed, it's unlikely that we would easily adapt to living on planets again. Why do I think so? There's no deep philosophy behind it; just notice how tourists always seem so desperate to end their trips early and return to space.
"Humans don't seem to be actively searching for new Earth-like planets anymore." I pointed it out.
"It's simple," Anton snapped his finger too. "Finding an Earth-like planet is extremely tough. Moreover, the terraforming of such planets would require a significant amount of time. However, the main reason is that humans living in the cosmos have become unaccustomed to planetary life."
"Why is that?" I asked, wondering why.
"Gravity wells; we don't actually need them when living on planets requires ships to have greater propulsion power to escape those wells. Of course, energy is no longer a problem for us, and the majority of our ships are not designed to navigate within the atmosphere. Humans have gotten used to living in the cosmic sea," Anton opened his hands, "And in space, we lack for nothing. We have infinite resources and energy. We can build bigger Space Cities if we wish. For those who miss the feel of a planet, we have static warp technology to simulate gravity. We can recreate any landscape from Earth in our Space Cities. So, why live on a planet? Besides, you're all used to life in the City of Dawn, aren't you?"
"Hmm... you've got a point here." I muttered, feeling like there was something off about Anton's explanation, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was right away.
"And there's another, more important reason," Anton said with a smile, "that Space Cities can easily move if there's a war. In the infinite cosmic sea, it's hard to pinpoint the location of an enemy, but planets? They're not so mobile."
"I suppose that's the real reason," I shrugged. Sure enough, war—everything boils down to that damned war.
After about half an hour, the shuttle approached Easter Island. Looking down through the window, we saw an island shaped like a right triangle in the vast blue Pacific, covered in dense, green palm trees. Scattered among the green were several enormous bubble domes, sparkling in the golden sunlight—an incredibly picturesque scene. Beneath those domes were undoubtedly the well-protected giant Moai statues of Easter Island.
"Easter Island is a volcanic island." I explained, "Its three summits are actually three volcanoes that shaped the island during ancient volcanic eruptions. Do you notice anything about its position on Earth? Doesn't it sort of look like the Earth's belly button?"
Anton nodded.
"This is why the native people call it the 'Navel of the World.'"
We circled above Easter Island in the shuttle before making a smooth landing on a specially constructed platform.
Anton and I stood up and exited the shuttle, walking along a designated scenic route to a group of giant stone statues. Despite the erosion and moss that adorned them, these statues stood proudly even after tens of thousands of years, as if forever gazing at the stars above.
"On Easter Island, there are around 900 of these enormous statues, all made from sturdy volcanic rock," I began my job as a tour guide. "They are called Moai. Archaeological records suggest that their creators were likely ancient Polynesians who traveled here by canoe from the west, from the Marquesas Islands. This was before the advent of the Metal Age, and there was no metal ore on the island, so they probably used tools made from basalt to craft these statues."
Anton raised his eyebrows. "Wait, you're saying these statues were built using stone tools?"
"That's right. Basalt is a bit harder than the volcanic rock they were carving into, so theoretically, basalt tools could do the job," I affirmed, "Although it was difficult, they managed to pull it off."
"What was the reason for all this? Why did they put so much effort into creating these statues?" Anton asked, clearly puzzled, as he looked at the enormous statues. It was obvious that experiencing these lonely giants through a holographic image was one thing, but actually seeing them in person was something else entirely.
Every tourist asks that question, and there's even a standard answer in the tour guide manual, making this a walk in the park for me. "There are many theories, but the most widely accepted one is that these statues were created for religious purposes and to worship ancestors. Each statue is believed to represent a real ancestor who would continue to watch over the tribe. They built these statues to commemorate them. Another theory is that the statues were markers for underground water and that farming around them would yield bountiful harvests. And some even believe the statues were meant to communicate with the gods in the stars."
"Unbelievable," Anton muttered, shaking his head, then asked, "You mentioned they arrived by canoe?"
"Right," I said, showing him by tapping my wrist device. A holographic image of a canoe appeared above it. "This is the kind of canoe the ancient Polynesians used for navigation."
Anton looked at the canoe image and then back at the vast ocean. "Jason, you're kidding me, right?"
"What?"
Pointing at the primitive canoe, Anton expressed his disbelief. "Are you seriously telling me this thing was seaworthy?"
I knew what he meant by that, and after thinking for a second, I asked, "Anton, are you familiar with the tale of the first Explorer Fleet?"
"What does that have to do with a canoe?"
"It was the early phase of the Great Navigation Era. Thanks to warp drive technology, humans had escaped the planet's gravity wells, and our ships could wander freely through the Solar System." I explained further, "But still, when you consider the immense distances of space, warp travel was too slow. Everyone knew the closest star to our sun was Proxima, only four light years away. But back then, a journey of four light-years was virtually impossible. Even at max warp speeds, the most optimistic calculations put the journey at several decades, and humans had not yet really ventured out of our Solar System."I pointed to a small bay nearby and explained, "For humans at that time, the Solar System was much like this small bay. They were uncertain if the warp drive could support journeys lasting decades or even centuries, and they didn't know what lay ahead in the vast expanse of interstellar space. A single mishap could mean no return for those fleets. Nevertheless, the first Explorer Fleet set off without looking back, leaving the small bay of the Solar System with what would now be seen as very basic spaceships, heading towards the distant cosmos. Their struggles were no less than those of the Polynesians navigating the immense Pacific. Anton, such events happened again and again—the first space trip, the first moon landing, and the first travel through a Stargate. Even though time changes, certain things—like the spirit of adventure and exploration in our veins—remain unchanged, pushing us to become the humanity that now inhabits the cosmic sea. Therefore, there's no question about it, Anton. A canoe can definitely navigate the ocean. Have you ever wondered why this island is known as the Navel of the Earth? Only when humans first flew into space and looked down at this island did they understand how appropriate the name really is. If you think of Earth as a human body, Easter Island is right at the belly button. But how would the natives have known that? They had only their canoes and certainly no way to view the island from space. By all common sense, they couldn't possibly have known its position as the Earth's navel."
I paused and continued, "Yet they knew about it, the only plausible explanation being that they had sailed thousands of kilometers around the island in their canoes. They knew the island was isolated, so, following their instincts, they named the island accordingly. It might just be an incredible coincidence, but indeed, canoes can navigate vast oceans."
"Okay, I get it now." After a long silence, Anton said, "Canoes can cross the ocean."
"Yes, they certainly can." I breathed out softly, "Sometimes, all that's missing is a little courage and faith."
After a silent moment, Anton quietly recited, "We merely took a small step forward in exploring the vast universe. Now is the time to courageously explore instead of stagnating because of some emotions of the weak."
"That's impressive," I said, genuinely impressed.
"Those aren't my words; they're from a critique of Voyage by the renowned book reviewer Wolfgang."
"I know," I said, even though I had never heard of the book before.
Anton and I kept exploring the area until the sun began to dip low in the sky, and then we made our way back to the seaside. There, standing alongside a line of giant stone statues that gazed out over the ocean, we took in the stunning sunset. The sun had shifted from a bright sphere to a gentle, yolk-like glow, gradually descending into the sea. Seeing this, I thought to myself how the ancient people were probably even braver than we can imagine. When the first Explorer Fleet set sail, they at least knew their exact destination—Proxima. But consider the ancients. When those daring Polynesians set out in their canoes, did they know they'd find a new homeland across the ocean? When the ancient Asians moved along the Beringia, could they foresee what awaited them? Such acts of exploration, driven by the deep-seated spirit of adventure and exploration in our blood, have occurred time and again. It was this very spirit that inspired the first pioneer fleet to decisively journey toward Proxima, opening the chapter on humanity's first departure from a gravity well. It inspired the fleet of glory to navigate through unknown Lagrange Points courageously, perform the first major mass transport experiment, and lay the foundation for building the Lagrange Stargate, marking the start of the Great Navigation Era.
Even today, across the boundless ocean of stars, many Explores are still exploring unknown regions of Cluster and working to rebuild the great Lagrange Network.
Maybe we haven't really changed at all.
These lonely giants continue to gaze; they've emerged from the ancient mists and will walk towards a distant, uncertain future, always watching. At this moment, I felt the power of time more strongly than ever before.
Anton then broke the silence, "I think there's another possibility."
"What?"
Anton raised his head to look at the solemn faces and deep, timeless eyes of the statues. "Our forebears who erected these giant Moai, Göbekli Tepe, Stonehenge, and the pyramids of ancient Egypt might want to leave something behind... something to prove their existence."
"Are you referring to a monument?"
"Yes, exactly, a monument."
"Correct," I pointed to the ground, "this is what Earth represents. No matter how far humans go, no matter what we evolve into millions of years from now, Earth will remain the eternal monument to our species. And these, all these ancient sites, are like the engravings on that monument."
As we spoke, the sun fully set, leaving a deep blue canopy above us, with the Dawn Ring still gleaming brightly across the sky.
