All the aid team experts applauded enthusiastically, our fighting spirit steeled for the work ahead. We believed that with both planets standing shoulder to shoulder, we could defeat this pandemic sweeping through the galaxy.
But amid my excitement, a faint premonition quietly surfaced.
At that moment, Charles began diplomatic posturing toward the figure on the screen: "It is Earth's duty to make what modest contribution we can to the health and well-being of the galaxy.
"This is the first meeting between Earth and Proxima Centauri. Earth will certainly do everything in its power to provide medical aid and help the people of Proxima Centauri through this crisis.
"Master, we sincerely thank Proxima Centauri for giving Earth this opportunity. We will certainly cherish this sacrifice."
My Interstellar Common Language was truly lacking. I struggled to follow Charles's fluent speech—at first it seemed appropriate enough, but the more I listened, the more off-putting it became. Two words I couldn't quite catch rang in my ears, and my intuition told me they weren't anything good.
This made me uneasy, and the bad premonition grew stronger. After the video ended, I asked Charles, "What did you just say? I didn't catch the end."
Charles gave a meaningful smile, full of energy yet eerily cryptic. Instead of answering, he changed the subject:
"Dr. Fang, speaking of which, this sudden pandemic made everything extremely rushed—including this aid mission, which was cobbled together in a hurry before we immediately set out.
"In all that rush, very few people noticed something worth scrutinizing. But I did. I've had a question ever since before departure, and I wonder if you share the same doubt."
"Go on."
"Why has this pandemic been able to spread rampantly among planets across the galaxy?"
This hardly seemed worth asking. I felt a bit exasperated, but I answered the obvious question anyway:
"Clearly, on one hand, the celestial fragmentation affected several planets; on the other, interstellar development led to frequent contact between planets, causing the pandemic to spread."
Yet after I'd finished answering, I also sensed something was off.
Charles said, "So planets throughout the galaxy other than Earth—not only do they have close contact with each other, but actual physical contact, not merely online communication?"
"Ah... yes."
"We've always known that Earth and other planets have been 'online friends' for centuries.
"The reason no one visited was because Earth was too far away. Even if time wasn't an issue, the energy cost was prohibitive, so there was no need. That was the universally accepted, logical explanation.
"Only now, with the pandemic spread across the galaxy, do we learn that other planets' exchanges differ from Earth's. They have actual physical contact.
"Since the energy cost of distance clearly wasn't an issue for them, does that mean all inhabited planets besides Earth are clustered close together?"
Charles paused, then answered his own question. "Obviously not. The galaxy is enormous—a hundred billion solar systems. The probability of them being clustered together is essentially zero.
"So why didn't they care about energy costs when it came to visiting each other?"
"We've always been told that planets throughout the galaxy don't visit each other, don't interfere, and rely solely on online communication—just like Earth..." I fell silent for a moment, then looked up. "Are you saying those reasons were fabricated?"
"So the question arises: was the information we've been fed actually real?" Charles said.
"We've never even seen them in person—we didn't even know what Proxima Centauri inhabitants looked like until just now. Has relying solely on online communication and our own assumptions given Earth a clear picture of reality?"
"I don't understand..." My lips trembled involuntarily.
"That said, I've always believed that humanity's greatest fear isn't from the 'unknown'—it's from the 'unknowable.'" Charles let out an odd laugh.
"There's a vast difference between the two. The 'unknown' is what we can know but haven't yet had the chance to know. The 'unknowable' is simply that—unknowable. Beyond comprehension, beyond imagination, completely crushed under its weight.
"Of course, this seems paradoxical. If something is unknowable, how can you even feel fear from it, right?"
"I have nothing to say." I exhaled with my eyes closed. "Stop talking. Turn the ship around."
The hull began oscillating in a regular pattern. We were now orbiting Proxima Centauri.
Charles pressed his face against the porthole, took one look, turned back with wide eyes and constricted pupils, and an excited gleam in his eyes.
He continued of his own accord: "Perhaps it's not just the information we've received—our own home planet, Earth included—everything we think we know may be wrapped in lies beyond comprehension, or half-truths at best.
"Why don't they come visit us? Is interstellar civilization truly equal among planets? Does interstellar affairs truly follow the principles of peaceful coexistence and non-interference?
"A community of shared human destiny is humanity's most beautiful vision. We achieved it peacefully, and projected the same hope onto the cosmos.
"But can a community of shared cosmic destiny also be achieved? Perhaps it can. The most tragic thing, however, is that it has nothing to do with us.
"We thought Earth had opened up and its technology had exploded with development. We thought we'd caught up with them, that Earth was now equal with other planets. In truth, it was all a lie—a lie carefully maintained by them.
"The equality belongs to them. We have nothing."
"What do you mean? I don't understand. So why didn't they just invade Earth? What have they been plotting for centuries?" My breathing quickened, my blood pressure soaring.
I didn't actually want an answer to this question. I abruptly stood up. "In any case, stop talking. I demand an immediate return!"
The other experts still didn't understand what was happening. The cabin erupted into commotion. "What's going on? Dr. Fang, what are you two arguing about?"
"It's too late. The ship has already entered orbit and the engines have shut down. They haven't been plotting anything—in fact, if it weren't for this pandemic, they'd never have done this. The door that humanity hasn't been able to open for centuries is finally about to be opened."
Charles also stood up, pacing frantically in the aisle, his expression growing ever more agitated.
"Dr. Fang, aren't you curious? Don't you want to know what a great, advanced civilization actually looks like? Just because the Proxima Centauri representative on screen looked short and emaciated, do you actually think they're short and emaciated?"
"Shut up!"
Charles's deranged remarks triggered a sudden realization in me. I lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar.
What had he said to the Proxima Centauri representative? That last sentence that had sounded off, those two words I hadn't caught.
He had said: Master, we sincerely thank Proxima Centauri for giving Earth this opportunity, and we will certainly cherish this sacrifice.
"Damn your Master, damn your sacrifice! Are you all insane? Turn around! I'll say it again—turn around immediately! You traitorous piece of alien filth!" I completely lost my reason and punched Charles to the floor, delivering a one-sided beating.
"I'm contributing to the peace and stability of the entire star system, contributing to a great, advanced civilization..." Charles looked up at the ceiling and laughed, paying no mind to the beating. "Dr. Fang, your wife raised scorpions, remember?"
I froze, my thoughts dragged infinitely far away.
My wife, back on Earth.
That year, she had opened a traditional Chinese medicine farm and raised scorpions. One of them escaped, and when she saw it, she rushed over and crushed it under her foot.
Then she stood there, frozen, for a long time.
"Scorpions," she murmured to herself. "Did it know it had always been living in a greenhouse?"
I stood behind her, watching her cradle the scorpion's broken body, weeping endlessly. I wanted to go to her and hold her, but I could never get close. The distance between us seemed vast—spanning centuries and 4.22 light-years.
I stood rooted in place, calling her name desperately, but she couldn't hear me.
I wept aloud.
"Dr. Fang, let me tell you a joke." Charles gasped weakly.
"Scorpions think they're powerful. But think about it—if humans contracted a disease that scorpions could cure, would we invite a team of scorpion medical experts to come rescue us?"
The ship had landed.
The eighteenth day after I left Earth, my wife lay down in a field of lushly blooming medicinal herbs, becoming one with the vast earth and sky.
Years earlier, my wife had wept over the scorpion's broken body for a long time. I stood behind her, desperately calling her name.
"My dear," she finally turned to me, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Don't walk toward that river."
*
The pandemic was brought under control.
An elderly doctor grabbed medicines from several drawers, weighing them on a scale while chatting with his customer:
"The parliament has been arguing for ages. One side says wildlife reserves must be protected, that we can't sacrifice them. The other side says the pandemic is so severe, saving lives comes first..."
"What's there to argue about? When a pandemic strikes, of course lives come first," said the lady from Sirius.
"Isn't that the truth, madam? That animal-rights lawmaker is practically dying of the disease himself. But it's also contradictory—protecting wildlife and a community of shared cosmic destiny are galactic consensus. Principles can't be easily broken, right?
"In principle, nature reserves shouldn't be disturbed. The two sides were deadlocked. But wouldn't you know it—the animals came voluntarily. Since they were willing, it respects their rights, so capturing them couldn't be faulted."
"They rounded them all up? Sigh."
"Extincting one species to save the galaxy—it's worth it. We have to look forward. Life is beautiful." The old doctor finished weighing one portion, pulled open the last drawer, and grabbed a handful of tiny insects, placing them on the scale.
"This is it—the most critical ingredient. Earth insect dried. Sour in taste, neutral in nature, nontoxic. Add 5 grams and your illness is guaranteed to clear right up. My apologies for the wait, madam."
"Thank you. I was getting anxious," said the lady from Sirius. "My child still had a slight fever yesterday, and school starts tomorrow."
THE END