The shadow of the "Zero-Point" crisis, like the faint yet ubiquitous cosmic background radiation, quietly altered the balance by which Mozi weighed power and responsibility. That struggle with the mathematical specter ultimately ended in a pyrrhic victory, paid for by permanently sacrificing thirty percent of the Cloud Brain's computing power. This price wasn't merely numerical; it meant the eternal silence of countless data nodesing wisdom, unfinished research threads, even fragments of civilizational memory. It served as a chilling alarm bell, awakening the arrogance hidden beneath technological frenzy—arrogance toward the unknown, toward one's own mastery, toward the fragility of civilization's embers.
Simultaneously, the message Yue'er deciphered from an alien civilization—"The morphology of sadness is similar across all universes"—rippled through his heart like a stone cast into deep water, spreading complex circles. It wasn't just a sigh filled with empathy; it was a heavy implication: in the vast universe, the birth of civilizations might be accidental miracles, but their growth paths might be strewn with similar traps, pain, and confusion. Had that civilization leaving information fragments also faced a technological abyss like the "Zero-Point" crisis? Had they also struggled with loss of meaning? Was their ultimate outcome sublimation, silence, or, like that logic bomb, descent into self-negating madness?
These thoughts interwove and fermented in his mind, eventually crystallizing into a clear, resolute action plan—the "Prometheus Project."
This name wasn't chosen randomly. In human mythology, Prometheus stole heavenly fire, gifted it to humanity, initiating civilization's progress while enduring eternal torment. What Mozi envisioned wasn't theft but "reverse gifting." Noting technology or knowledge from higher-tier civilizations, but proactively, prudently broadcasting carefully selected and processed civilizational seeds to potentially emerging civilizations in the cosmos.
When he first proposed this plan at the String Light Research Institute's highest strategic meeting, the shockwave resembled a minor earthquake.
"Active contact? Broadcasting our information? Mr. Mo, are you aware of the 'Dark Forest' principle's potential risks? This is equivalent to lighting a bonfire in a pitch-black forest, shouting loudly!" A senior security strategy consultant practically leapt from his seat, face flushed with agitation. "The 'Zero-Point' crisis just passed; we don't even know whether the logic bomb's origin civilization is benign or malicious, and now we actively expose our existence? This is too risky!"
"Precisely because of the 'Zero-Point' crisis, we need to do this even more." Mozi's voice was calm yet carried undeniable force. "That logic bomb likely originated from a civilization's technological or cognitive deviation. It's like a dangerous 'ideavirus,' drifting through the cosmos seeking suitable hosts. We luckily confined it, but who can guarantee other emerging civilizations won't encounter similar, even more dangerous 'legacies' early in their development, thus prematurely destruction?"
He surveyed the attendees, his gaze profound. "We cannot change the past, nor directly intervene in other civilizations' processes. But we can attempt to provide a... 'knowledge vaccine.'"
"Knowledge vaccine?" A sociologist frowned, puzzled by this new term.
"Yes, vaccine." Mozi explained. "Traditional vaccines introduce attenuated or inactivated pathogens to stimulate the body's own immunity, preventing disease. What we aim to broadcast isn't our most cutting-edge, potentially misused specific technologies—like how to build antimatter engines, construct strong artificial intelligence, achieve consciousness uploading. These specific technologies, for civilizations with immature mindsets and unstable societal ethical frameworks, could be poison, keys opening Pandora's box."
He summoned a holographic projection, beginning to display the "Prometheus Project" core content framework.
"What we transmit is the 'scientific method' itself, 'attenuated' basic scientific and humanistic knowledge. Including but not limited to: basic logical reasoning rules, the scientific research paradigm of observation, hypothesis, experiment, verification; foundational mathematical axiom systems (like Euclidean geometry, natural number theory); fundamental laws of classical physics (Newtonian mechanics, thermodynamic laws); basic concepts of information theory; and... screened reflecting humanity's philosophical, ethical, artistic explorations of truth, goodness, beauty."
He emphasized: "Our focus isn't 'answers,' but 'ways of questioning' and 'tools for seeking answers.' We tell them how to think, not what to think for them; we provide basic 'bricks,' not directly give built 'mansions.' The goal is to awaken their own rationality, cultivate independent exploration and critical thinking abilities, enabling them to rely on their own strength to identify and resist future encountered 'ideaviruses' like the logic bomb and technological traps."
The meeting room fell into contemplation. This conception was too grand, too idealistic. How to ensure broadcasted information wouldn't be misinterpreted? How to screen so-called "harmless" knowledge? What "humanistic thought" is universal, not carrying specific cultural biases? How to set broadcast power, direction, frequency to achieve effect while minimizing risk of capture by potential hostile advanced civilizations? Countless technical, ethical, strategic challenges loomed like towering mountains.
"This requires top-tier interdisciplinary collaboration," Mozi admitted. "Linguists, scientists, philosophers, historians, ethicists, even artists must jointly participate in information screening, encoding, and packaging. We need to design as neutral, clear, interference-resistant encoding as possible. Perhaps we can borrow some preliminary ideas from Yue'er's 'universal linguistics' exploration, attempting to construct a low-ambiguity 'cosmic basic language' based on mathematics and logic."
Debates continued for days. Opposition remained strong, fearing unpredictable risks. But supportive voices gradually converged, moved by the civilizational responsibility transcending self-survival embedded in this plan. Ultimately, through Mozi's persistence and core members' support, the "Prometheus Project" obtained preliminary authorization, entering detailed preparation phase.
Months later, the plan entered broadcast testing phase. Xiuxiu returned dust-covered from Earth's reconstruction zone to "New Continent" for brief respite. Hearing of this, she went directly to the "Prometheus" Broadcast Center's main control room located on planetary orbit.
She watched the busy scene: massive energy focusing arrays calibrating, pointing toward a distant star region believed potentially hosting young stars and habitable-zone planets. Screens flowed with massive basic information streams about to be encoded for broadcast—from proof of the Pythagorean theorem, to of Mendel's pea experiments; from Aristotle's syllogistic logic, to mathematical audio encoding of Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" from the Ninth Symphony...
Xiuxiu walked to Mozi's side; he was intently watching final parameter verification on the main screen. She remained silent momentarily, noticing new, barely perceptible frost strands at his temples, softly asking: "Why? Old Mo. We still have plenty of our own problems. 'New Continent's' meaning deficiency syndrome, Earth's reconstruction, that lurking 'Zero-Point' crisis origin... Why invest precious resources and energy into cosmic depths, helping 'others' we may never contact,?"
Mozi didn't answer immediately, his gaze still fixed on the screen's torrent representing human civilization's essence, carefully "attenuated" and packaged knowledge. After a long while, he slowly turned to Xiuxiu. His eyes were exceptionally clear, carrying a serenity and weathered through storms.
"Xiuxiu," his voice steady and gentle, "do you remember how we first met? Because of lithography machines, technological barriers, that suffocating feeling of being,."
Xiuxiu nodded; those and arduous years she would never forget.
"Later, we journeyed onward," Mozi continued, his gaze seemingly, seeing countless past scenes. "Facing capital's, technological bottlenecks, political, even threats from mathematical foundations... How many times did we feel? But we endured. Relying on what? Besides our own efforts, wasn't there something else?"
He paused, pointing at those basic knowledge points on the screen. "We stand on giants' shoulders. Archimedes, Newton, Maxwell, Turing, countless known and unknown pioneers used their wisdom and exploration to light lamps, illuminating our path forward. Their knowledge, methods, spirit transcended time and space, becoming weapons for us,. We are the illuminated generation."
His voice carried deep gratitude. "Yue'er's deciphered message, 'The morphology of sadness is similar across all universes.' I think perhaps hope's morphology, exploration's impulse, longing for light and understanding, across all universes, should also be similar."
He looked at Xiuxiu again,. "We cannot whether the universe is a 'Dark Forest,' but we can at least try to become a faint, lantern actively lit within the forest. We cannot guarantee this lantern will definitely guide lost travelers, nor guarantee it won't attract danger. But if we forever in darkness due to fear, then what is civilization's meaning? Merely existing to exist?"
"Initiating the 'Prometheus Project' isn't because we're already flawless, without internal troubles., precisely because we deeply know development's path is, deeply know a civilization's, thus we want even more to do something for successors. Sowing rationality's seeds, transmitting exploration's methods, sharing our pursuit of beauty, goodness, truth. This cannot guarantee they will definitely, but at least can increase probabilities they avoid repeating our (or other civilizations'), increase opportunities they find their own bright paths."
He finally whispered softly, yet those words weighed heavily as thousand:
"**Because we were once illuminated, thus we also want to become light.**"
Xiuxiu was stunned. She looked at Mozi, this man who once stirred up clouds and rain in financial markets, later at civilization's survival juncture. Now, shed of all and technological, he retained only the simplest, grandest wish—to pass onward the light civilization received.
She didn't speak further. Just silently stood beside him, together gazing beyond the main control room into the boundless, dark yet cosmic depths.
"Parameter verification complete. Energy focusing arrays ready. Encoded data stream stable. 'Prometheus Project' first broadcast, preparation complete." The control officer's report broke the silence.
Mozi took a deep breath, exchanged a glance with Xiuxiu, seeing in her eyes.
"Initiate broadcast." He issued the command.
No deafening roar, no dazzling light effects. Only energy monitoring screens', displaying a signal stream bearing human civilization's most refined, core rationality and humanistic light, at light speed, firmly, toward that distant, potentially life-hosting star region.
This was a reverse gift, an interstellar sowing, a gentle against cosmic darkness. This light was faint, on cosmic scales. But it shone. That was enough.