New civilizations always sprout branches.
Unlike a human chessboard, the one before "Smiley Face" cycled through creation and destruction—yet the pieces never vanished.
They simply regenerated.
A silver flash as the implant slid into the boy's ear. He removed his headphones, pulling on boxing gloves at the gym.
Ge Tianci leaned in to kiss Liu Yun's lips, her cascading hair spilling over him like a veil.
Her presence had become a shaft of light in his life. The cosmos was too cold, the world too lonely—only the clouds held tenderness.
He scooped a bite of lemon mousse with a tiny spoon, his taste buds assaulted by sour and sweet.
*What's so good about this?* He frowned.
Across the table, Liu Yun devoured her slice with abandon, too engrossed to glance up. The contentment in her puffed cheeks was a quiet, edible serenity. Ge Tianci mimicked her slow savoring, though he couldn't force himself to like it. Still, there was solace in the ritual.
He resisted the urge to ruffle her hair. *She's the one who taught me time could be gentle,* he wanted to whisper. And so, he learned to cherish it.
The implant hardly seemed to matter now.
---
*"Funny, you're into stars and cosmic mysteries too?"* Liu Yun eyed the books on his shelves—tomes he'd barely touched since meeting her.
*"Do you believe in souls? Higher-dimensional ones?"* Her琉璃-like eyes sparkled, luminous with passion.
Ge Tianci hesitated. Finally, he shook his head.
*"Oh..."* The light in her gaze dimmed.
He walked her home as usual. In the weeks that followed, the topic wove itself into their conversations.
Piece by piece, Ge Tianci unraveled how much she knew.
*She's been communicating with higher dimensions too.*
Meanwhile, "Smiley Face" had grown almost human. In dreams, it shed its mantis form, cycling through human guises—a calculated mimicry of trust.
Once, when it appeared as a child, Ge Tianci abruptly woke.
His lucid dreaming was faltering. He forced himself back under, only to find a world of clouds. "Smiley Face" was there, but buried in cumulus, untraceable.
After several failed attempts, their dialogues dwindled. Liu Yun filled the void his fears had left.
And gradually, he coaxed her story from her.
---
*"Close your eyes!"* Liu Yun dabbed his forehead with frosting-tipped fingers.
Orange-gold light swallowed him.
A planet swathed in dense atmosphere, its gaseous oceans churning with intricate, ever-shifting currents. As his vision sharpened, he saw them: balloon-like beings, their surfaces rippling with chromatic patterns—stripes, polka dots, tendrils soft as jellyfish arms drifting through nebulae.
*Light. Blinding light.*
He floated in the dreamscape until a smaller creature caught his eye—reminiscent of Mars' civilization.
**The third alien race he'd encountered.**
He jerked awake. Liu Yun beamed, hands clasped in that concert-hall piety.
*"Well? Beautiful, right?"* She leaned in.
*"Beautiful?"*
*"Yes! These are civilizations I've met. They're all so kind!"*
*Kind?* The word turned sour in his mouth. He left soon after.
---
That night, the chessboard reappeared in his dreams—alongside the balloon-beings.
Their tendrils lashed toward him. He dodged; the strand shattered the "Bishop" piece instead.
*"Crack. 86th civilization terminated."*
Their patterns flickered—a silent debate. Then stillness, like emotions made visible.
*"Will it rebuild?"* Ge Tianci asked.
*"Yes. After we erase the 67th. A singularity's explosion will forge new space. In 30 million years, fresh life emerges."*
To demonstrate, a tendril unfurled, projecting the dead civilization:
Algae-like beings, their luminous green ribbons swaying in oceanic depths. A race steeped in慈悲—until the Bishop split.
The scene warped:
**The entire civilization flattened.**
A sheet millions of kilometers long, thinner than atoms.
The balloon-creatures' patterns rippled dismissively:
*"Should we explain 'zero thickness'?"*
*"He won't grasp atomic-scale physics."*
*"Few emotion-driven civilizations exist. Only 584th Sector has them."*
Ge Tianci gagged. He'd witnessed war, famine, plague—but those horrors had unfolded across time. This was obliteration in an instant.
*Survival weighed by cosmic dice.* Humans were children waving torches in the dark. Once you saw the truth, you couldn't unsee it.
*"Well? Beautiful, right?"*
His dream-body shattered into fragments. He woke nauseous, skull pounding.
---
Rain drizzled when he next met Liu Yun. Fallen leaves clung to his shoes as he slowed his steps.
He tilted the umbrella toward her. She adjusted her backpack, whispering:
*"Let me tell you a secret."*
Pushing up her sleeve, she revealed a silver-gray bracelet.
**The implant.**
Ge Tianci's breath caught.
The rain intensified, soaking her red shirt. It reminded him of humanity—children raising torches under the gaze of the cosmos.