Chapter 11 9

President Graystone had a very busy schedule that morning, and the Tianlun Five Center operates 23 hours a day, so that the government can operate in accordance with the Union Standard Time without completely interfering with the rhythm of local daily life.At five forty-five, Graystone had a meeting with her military advisers.At six-thirty, she had breakfast with twenty or so of the most important senators, as well as representatives of the Council of Everything and Intellectual Core.At 7:15, the president transmitted to Renaissance Star. It was the evening local time. She presided over the official opening ceremony of the God Envoy Medical Center in Kaduya. At 7:40, she transmitted back to the government Mansion met with her senior assistants, including Li.Hunter, reviewing her speech to the Senate at ten o'clock sharp and on Everything.net.At 8:30, Graystone met again with General Morpurgo and Admiral Singh to learn about the latest situation in the Hyperion system.At 8:45, she received me.

Good morning, Mr. Silveron, said the president.Sitting behind her desk in the same office where I first met her three days ago, she gestures her hand to the small table against the wall that holds the shiny silver jugs of hot coffee, tea and rice tea. I shook my head and sat down.There were three light curtains lit up white, but the one to my left displayed a three-dimensional map of the Hyperion system that I was trying to decode in the Situation Room, and it seemed to me that The Ouster's red color now seemed to cover and permeate the entire galaxy, like red paint mixed into a blue solution.

I want to hear about your dreams.President Graystone said. I want to hear your reasons for abandoning them.I said flatly: Why did you let Father Hoyt die. Graystone couldn't be used to being spoken to like that, especially after she'd been in the Senate for forty-eight years and President for fifteen.But her only response was to raise one eyebrow slightly.Turns out you can indeed dream about real situations. Were you still a little skeptical? She put down the computer in her hand, pressed the close button, and then shook her head, not necessarily, but she would still be shocked to hear something that no one in Wanxing.com knew.

Why don't you allow them to use the consul's ship? Graystone turned to look at the map, which was constantly changing, with new data changing the flow of red, the retreat of blue, the movement of planets and moons, but even if the military situation was part of her explanation, She, too, has decided to drop that claim.She turned back.Why do I have to explain the high-level decisions to you, Mr. Silveren?Where is your constituency?Who are you representing? I represent the five people and one baby that you trapped in Hyperion.I said: Hoyt could have been saved. Graystone clenched his fist and tapped his lower lip with his bent index finger.Maybe, she said: maybe he was dead already.But that's not the problem, is it?

I lean back in a chair.This time I didn't have a sketchbook with me, and my hands wanted to hold something.what is that? Do you remember the story that Father Hoyt told on their way to Tokizuka?Graystone asked. Remember. Every pilgrim can make a request to the Jing Demon God.By convention it grants one person's wishes and rejects the wishes of others, and kills those it refuses.Do you remember what Hoyt's wish was? I hesitated.Recalling something from the past of these pilgrims was like recalling the details of a dream from the previous week.He wanted the two crucifixes removed, and I said: He wanted to be free from Father Douhet's soul, DNA, whatever, and himself.

Not quite, Graystone said: Father Hoyt wished to die. I stood up, almost toppled the chair I was sitting in, and strode over to the throbbing map.Nonsense.I said: Even if he wants to die, other people have an obligation to save him and you are the same, but you just let him die. Yes. As if you were going to let the rest die? No need, Mena.President Graystone said: It depends on their thoughts and the thoughts of Jing Demon God. If such a thing really exists, I only know that their pilgrimage is too important at this decisive moment. There are ways to retreat. Whose decision?theirs?How can the life of six or seven people and one baby affect the future of 150 billion people?Of course I know the answer to this question. The AI ​​Advisory Committee and other prediction experts with weak foresight in the Overlord Alliance were very cautious in selecting the candidates for the pilgrimage group.But for what?for unpredictable results.They are just numbers that fit into the ultimate puzzle in the entire Hyperion equation.Did Graystone know this?Or did she only know what the Elpidus advisors and her own spies told her?I sighed and returned to my seat.

Do your dreams tell you about Colonel Kassad's fate?asked the President. No, I woke up before they went back to the Sphinx for shelter from the storm. Graystone smiled.You know, Mr. Silveren, for our purpose, it is more convenient to drug you, use the veritable serum used by your friend Philomel, and then connect you to the speaker, and get Hyperion at any time. Reports on borderline situations. I smile back.That's right, it's much more convenient, but if I sneak back to the intelligence core via the data circle, leaving only my body behind, it will be a great inconvenience to you.If you were to drug me again, I would definitely do that.I said.

Of course, Graystone said: That's exactly what I would have done in that situation.Tell me, Mr. Silveren, what's it like to be inside the Intellectual Core?What does it feel like for your consciousness to actually reside in that distant place? Busy, I said: Is there anything else you want to see me today? Graystone smiled again, and I sensed that it was a genuine smile, not that she was wielding a skilled politician's weapon.Yes, she said: I do have other things.Would you like to go to Hyperion?The real Hyperion? The real Hyperion?I stupidly responded.A strange euphoria rose up inside me, and I felt my fingers and toes itch.My consciousness may indeed reside in the intellectual core, but my body and mind are both too human and too sensitive to adrenals and other chemical changes.

Graystone nodded.Millions of people want to be there, to teleport to a new place, to watch the war go on up close.She sighed and moved her computer.those fools.She looked up at me, serious in her brown eyes.But I'd like someone to go out there and report to me in person that there's a new military portal station to use this morning, and I thought maybe you could go with him.There may not be time to stop on Hyperion, but you will be in that galaxy. I thought of several questions, but the first one I asked was rather embarrassing.Would that be dangerous? Graystone's expression and tone remained unchanged.possible.But you'll be far behind the lines of fire, and Ri has specific instructions not to expose himself or you to any apparent danger.

Clearly dangerous situation, I thought.But on the battlefield, and close to a world where monsters like Jing Demon God haunt, how many less obvious dangerous situations will there be?ok i said : i will go but there is one thing What? I need to know why you want me to go.It seems like if you only need me for my connection to the Pilgrim, you're taking an unnecessary risk by sending me out. Graystone nodded.Mr. Silveren, your association with the Pilgrim, though rather meager, does interest me.But I am equally interested in your observations and evaluations.your observation. But I'm nothing to you, and I said: You don't know who else I might report to, whether on purpose or not.I am made by the intelligence core.

Yes, Graystone said: But you may also be the most neutral one in the Tianlun Five Center, or even in the entire Ten Thousand Stars Network. What you have is a trained poet, a poet whose genius I respect. of observation. I laughed out loud.He's a genius, and I say: I'm a fake.A modder, a counterfeit. Are you really that sure?Mena.Graystone asked. I raised my empty hands.In all the ten months of this strange reincarnation of my life I have not written a single line of poetry.I said: I don't think about poetry either.Isn't this enough to prove that the intelligence core's rebirth plan is a scam?Even my pseudonym is an insult to a man who is definitely far more talented than I am Joseph.Sylwellen is but a shadow compared to the real Keats, but I have sullied his name by using his name. That may be true, Graystone said, or it may not be.In any case, I still ask you and Mr. Hunter to go to Hyperion for a walk.She paused.You do not have to go to the responsibility.Speaking of which, you are not even a citizen of the Overlord Alliance.But if you do go, I'd appreciate it. I will go, I said again, hearing my own voice as if from afar. very good.You need some warm clothes.Don't wear any clothing that will come loose or cause embarrassment in a free fall situation, although this is unlikely to happen.Meet Mr. Hunter at the Government House portal station.The time was when she looked at the communication recorder.Twelve minutes later. I nodded, turned and left. ah mr sylvellen I stopped at the door.The elderly woman sitting behind the desk suddenly looked small and tired. Thank you, Mr. Silveron.she says. There are literally millions of people who want to teleport to a war zone.The Council of Everything network is full of petitions, debates over whether to send civilians to Hyperion, requests for cruise ships to do excursions, and politicians and HLA representatives from various planets clamoring for permission to visit that system , in order to achieve the task of seeking facts.All requests were denied.Citizens of Wanxing.com, especially those with power and influence, are very unaccustomed to being rejected in pursuit of new experiences. For Balian, such a battle is still one of the few experiences that has never been tried. But the president's office and the overlord's authority have always stood firm, and no civilians or unauthorized persons are allowed to transmit to the Hyperion galaxy, and no uncensored news is allowed.In an age of inaccessible information and unregulated travel, such rules are both irritating and attractive. After showing the warrant and getting the approval of a dozen security personnel, Mr. Hunter and I met at the high-level portal station.Hunter was wearing a black woolen suit, which was very plain, but it made people feel like the uniform of the Overlord Army that can be seen everywhere in the government building area.I didn't have much time to change clothes. When I got back to the place where I lived, I only grabbed a large vest with many pockets for painting tools, and a 35cm camera. Are you ready?Hunter said.That hound-like face was not at all pleased to see my expression.He carried a plain black suitcase. I nodded. Hunter gestured to a Tyrannical Teleportation Technician.A door that can only be used once gradually emerges.I know that this thing has been adjusted according to our DNA, and others cannot get in.Hunter took a deep breath and walked in.I watched the mercury-like facade fluctuate after he passed by, like a breeze blowing the brook back to calm, and then I walked in by myself. It is rumored that the most primitive prototype of the portal will not make people feel anything during the transmission process. Later, AI and human designers modified the mechanism, adding a slight tingling sensation such as ozone emission, giving travellers A feeling of having traveled.Whatever the truth, my skin was still irritated as I took another step away from the door.I paused and looked around. Strange as it may sound, it is true that spaceships participating in wars have appeared in novels, movies, holographic films and virtual games for more than 800 years; Before Meta-Earth, their flat movies had shown space wars, huge starships equipped with incredible weapons, passing through the air like streamlined cities, even after the Brescia War, in the latest war movies, there are Large fleets fought at a distance that would have felt claustrophobic to two infantrymen, ships ramming and firing like ancient Greek triremes crammed into the Straits of Artemisium. So it's no wonder that when I stepped on the flagship of the fleet, my heart was beating hard and my palms were a little sweaty. I thought I would walk into a wide bridge like a battleship in a holographic movie. There are huge screens showing enemy ships and high-pitched sirens The sound sounded, and several commanders bent over the combat command platform, while the ship rushed to the right first, and then turned to the left. Hunter and I stood in what looked like a narrow walkway in a power plant.Color-coded piping everywhere, occasional handrails and regularly arranged airtight hatches prove that we are indeed in a spaceship, and the latest transmitters and interactive dashboards show that this corridor is nothing but In addition to the channel, there are other uses.But the overall impression is that it is quite closed and primitive technology. I expected to see wires protruding from the circuit board.A shaft intersected our passage, and other narrow and untidy corridors were visible from other hatches. Hunter looked at me and shrugged slightly.I don't know if it might have sent us to the wrong place. Before the two of us had time to speak, a young second lieutenant of the Overlord Space Forces in a black combat uniform appeared from a side aisle, saluted Hunter, and said: Welcome aboard the Hebrides, two, Nasita Navy The general asked me to pay his respects on his behalf, and invite the two of you to the combat command center.Excuse me, both of you, come with me.After speaking, the young second lieutenant turned around, reached out and grabbed a horizontal step, and climbed into the narrow vertical pit. We followed suit as best we could.As we climbed, Hunter kept busy trying not to drop the suitcase, and I tried not to let Hunter step on my hands.After only a few yards, I realized that the gravity here was below par. In fact, there was no gravity at all, but it felt like a few small but persistent hands were pressing me down.I know the spaceship uses a first-order force field to create gravity throughout the ship, but this is the first time I have experienced it directly.It's not a great feeling, the constant pressure feels like you're headed against the wind, and that's compounded by the narrow walkways, tiny hatches, and bulkheads full of gear. Feeling claustrophobic. The Hebrides is a triple C-class ship, which integrates communication, monitoring and command.The combat command center is equivalent to the heart and brain here, but it is not very bright heart and brain.The young second lieutenant led us through three airtight hatches, through the last corridor guarded by marines, saluted us, and left us in a room about twenty yards square, The room is filled with so much noise, people and equipment that one's first instinct is to back out the door for a breath of air. There was no huge screen in the room, only a dozen or so officers of the Cosmic Force looked down at the hidden screen, sitting in the surrounding stimulation simulator, or standing in front of the throbbing light curtain, and the light curtain seemed to be across six bulkheads.Men and women were all busy in their chairs or sensors, with the exception of a few officers, most of whom looked like busy bureaucrats rather than hard-working soldiers who walked through narrow passages, patted their subordinates on the back, Shouting for more information, plugging their personal implants into the console.One of them hurried over, looked at the two of us, saluted me and said: Mr. Hunter? I nodded to my companion. Mr Hunter, the overweight young commander, said: Admiral Nasita wants to see both of you now. The commander-in-chief in charge of all the alliance forces in the Hyperion galaxy is very small with short white hair.The skin is much smoother than that of people of his age, and it shows that his frown seems to be engraved on his face.Admiral Nasita was wearing black clothes with a high collar, no military rank, only a little red sun on the collar.His hands were thick and powerful, but the nails had just been manicured.The general sat on a small high platform, surrounded by various equipment and silent light curtains.The sense of chaos and madness of the scene flowed around him like a torrent over an unmoved rock. You are a messenger from Greystone, who said to Hunter: Who is this man? my assistant.inside.Hunter said. I resisted the urge to raise one eyebrow. What are you doing?Nasita said: You can see we are busy. inside.Hang Te nodded and looked around.I've brought something for you, Admiral, is there something a little more private?Admiral Nacita snorted and pressed his palm against a sensor switch, and the air behind me thickened into a semi-corporeal fog, dividing the area.The noisy voice of the combat command center disappeared.The three of us were in a silent cubicle. Hurry up, Admiral Nacita said. Hunter opened the suitcase and took out a small envelope with the Government House logo on the back.This is a personal letter from the president, Hunter said: "Look at it when you have time, Admiral." Nacita snorted and put the envelope aside. Hunter put a larger envelope on his desk.Here's a copy of the Senate proposal for this er, military action right now.You also know that the idea in the Senate is to want this to be done quickly so as to achieve a limited number of objectives and minimize casualties.Then comes the offer to assist and protect our new colonial assets. Nasita's frown twitched.He didn't move, neither touched nor looked at the letter containing the Senate resolution.Nothing else? Hunter replied unhurriedly: There is nothing else, unless you want to reply to the president through me, general. Nacita glared. There was no hostility in his small black eyes, only impatience. I think this expression will disappear when death comes.I have private FTL communication with the president, and the general said: Thank you very much, Mr. Hunter.No answer so far, now, please return to the portal junction in the middle of the ship, so that I can continue to work on this military operation. Walls of fog spread around us, and the noise rushed in like a melted dam. And one more thing.inside.Hunter said his soft voice was almost drowned out by the clamor in the combat command center. Admiral Nacita turned his chair around and waited for the next sentence. We want to go to that planet, Hunter said: to Hyperion. The admiral's brows seemed to wrinkle even tighter.President Greystone's people didn't say anything about arranging a shuttle. Hunter didn't even bat an eye.Governor Lane knew we might go. Nasita glanced at one of the light curtains, snapped his fingers, and said a few words loudly to a major of the Marine Corps who rushed over.You must hurry.The admiral said to Hunter: A messenger is preparing to depart from hatch 20.Major Infernas will send you there, and when you come back, you will be on the original space-time jump ship.The Hebrides would be leaving this position in twenty-three minutes. Hunter nodded, turned and followed the major, and I followed closely.The admiral's voice stopped us again. Mr Hunter, he cried, please tell President Greystone that from now on the flagship will be too busy for any political visits.Nacita turned to face the shining light curtains and a line of waiting subordinates. I followed Hunter and the major back into the maze. There should be windows. What?I was thinking about something else and not paying attention. inside.Hunter turned his head to me.I've never been on a shuttle that didn't have windows or displays.really weird. I nodded and looked around, only to notice the cramped and cramped interior.Indeed, there were only blank bulkheads, piles of supplies, and a young lieutenant sitting with us in the passenger area of ​​the shuttle boat, which seemed quite consistent with the claustrophobic atmosphere of the command ship. I look away, returning to what I've been thinking about since leaving Nacita.As I followed the two men toward hatch 20, it occurred to me that I hadn't lost what I thought would disappear.My unease about this trip came from the thought of leaving the datasphere; I was like a fish contemplating leaving the ocean.Part of my consciousness is hidden somewhere in the ocean, connecting two hundred worlds and the sea of ​​data and information of intelligence cores. Everything is connected by the invisible medium that was once called the information plane and is now only called the data circle. As we left Nacita, I suddenly found myself still hearing the undulations of that particular sea, distant but always there, like the sound of the waves half a mile offshore as they rushed to the feeder, boarded and departed, And the entire ten-minute jump from the lunar side into Hyperion's atmosphere, I've been trying to figure this out. Bajun has always been proud of using their own artificial intelligence, and their own data circle and calculation materials.The superficial reason seems to be the need to operate in the huge space between the worlds of Wanxing.com and between the planets outside the information planet of Wanxing.com. A strong need for independence that has been manifested for centuries.However, in a spaceship of the Overlord Army, in the fleet of the Overlord Army, and in a galaxy that does not belong to the Ten Thousand Star Network and is not a protected area, I can still receive and receive information from the Ten Thousand Star Network. The same data and energy can be received anywhere to form a reassuring background sound.really interesting. I think of all the connections the portal brings into the Hyperion system: not just the space hopping ships and the portal cardinal point that floats like a luminous crescent at Hyperion's L 3 point, but miles of ultra-wideband Fiber-optic cables meander through the permanent space-hopping ship portal port station, and microwave repeaters mechanize back and forth a few inches, repeating messages in near-instantaneity.The command ship complies with the AI's requirements and accepts new connections to Olympus High Command and other locations on Mars.Somewhere in it the Datasphere has sneaked in, and the Overlord's machines and operators and allies have no idea.The artificial intelligence of the Sonocore knows everything that happens in the Hyperion galaxy.Even if my physical body dies now, I will still have the same escape route, along the undulating connection, as if passing through a secret passage, outside the Ten Thousand Stars Network, and outside all information platforms known to mankind, via The information connection pipeline goes to the intelligence core itself.Not really to the Intellectual Core, I thought, because the Intellectual Core surrounds and envelops everything else, like a sea that holds different currents, and great Gulf Streams that think they are other oceans. I only wish there were windows here.inside.Hunter said in a low voice. Yes, I said: Me too. The barge throbbed and vibrated as we entered the upper layers of Hyperion's atmosphere.Hyperion, I thought, the Thorn Demon God.My heavy shirt and vest seemed wet and sticky, and a faint rustle outside indicated that we were flying, traveling at several times the speed of sound across the glass-colored sky. The young lieutenant leans over from the other side of the aisle. First time, both of you? Hunter nodded. The lieutenant was chewing gum, showing how relaxed he was.Are you two civilian technicians on the Hebrides? Yes, we just came from there.Hunter said. I think so, the lieutenant grinned.As for me, I'm sending papers to the Marine Corps base near Keats.This is my fifth time here. The name of the capital makes me shudder; Hyperion thrives again because King Billy and his band of poets, artists, and other misfits fled here.They escaped from their hometown by Horace.Grannon︱Hite's aggression In fact, the aggression did not really happen.Currently on the pilgrimage poet Martin.Cylenus, when King Billy of Lament named the capital nearly two centuries ago, suggested Keats City.The locals call the old town Jack's Town. You won't believe there is such a place, said the lieutenant: It's a place where birds don't lay eggs.I mean, no dataspheres, no TVs, no portals, no VR bars, nothing, no wonder there are thousands of fucking malcontents setting up tents near the spaceport, trying to tear down the walls and get out of there . Did they really attack the spaceport?Hunter asked. No, said the lieutenant, crackling his chewing gum.But they were going to do that, you know what I mean.That's why the 2nd Battalion of Marines set up a position there, guarding the way into town, and, besides, those rednecks think we're going to set up a portal any minute now and get them out of their self-inflicted shit. They asked for it?I said. The lieutenant shrugged.They must have done something to get the Ousters to come after them, right?We're just here to help them get oysters out of the fire. It is chestnuts taken from the fire.inside.Hunter said. The chewing gum cracked again: whatever. The rustling sound of the wind turned into a howling, clearly coming from outside the hull, the barge jumped twice, and then gliding smoothly and frighteningly, as if sliding on a large ice slope ten miles above the ground. I wish we had a window.inside.Hunter said softly. It was very stuffy in the feeder boat.The bouncing of the hull was strangely reassuring, like a small sailboat bobbing up and down with the gentle waves.I closed my eyes for a few minutes.