Little Pink Starfish

“Human science is like mountain climbing—we misstepped a hundred years ago,” the doctor smiled. “Just like how, even now, we still can’t explain why the Earth’s magnetic field disappeared for such a long time.”

After saying that, he fell silent and added, “Let’s go.”
Colin lowered his head and walked toward the shuttle without another word. An Zhe said “Goodbye” to the doctor and also boarded the vehicle.

Lu Feng was nowhere to be seen. An Zhe didn’t catch sight of him. He must be busy—and probably didn’t want to deal with him today. He was likely already gone.

Once the last two people had boarded, the shuttle bus pulled away from the train station along the track. It was the final shuttle, packed tight with nearly a hundred people.
They departed from inside the building, so there was no view of the outside. Three minutes later, the shuttle exited a tunnel, and the sound of rain and brightness of the outside world burst in. The front suddenly opened up, and there were faint gasps from inside the bus.

An Zhe looked through the crowd and out the window—
Beyond another buffer zone, countless gray-blue buildings with shimmering glass facades rose into the sky.

His eyes widened slightly.

A month ago, when he first arrived at the human base, he had already felt the wonder of human structures.
They were taller than most giant mushrooms—grand and enormous, at least to a mushroom who had never seen the world.

But now, it was different.
As someone already used to the size of outer city buildings, he once again felt the towering presence of these skyscrapers. The outer city’s residential buildings were mostly ten stories tall. These, however—he counted past thirty before the building faded from sight, and he had only counted halfway.

They were densely packed and interwoven in a bizarre, chaotic beauty.
The rain gradually subsided. Summer storms always passed quickly.
Golden sunlight pierced the clouds and gleamed off the glass curtain walls at the tops of the buildings.

An Zhe had once heard from the Poet the full story of how the base was established.
It began with the weakening and eventual disappearance of the Earth’s magnetic field.
To address this, humanity built two magnetic field generators. The main city of the northern base protected one of them.

Later, bacteria and flora and fauna began to mutate, and humanity gathered for survival, giving birth to the entire northern base.
Thus, the main city was built earlier than the outer zones—at that time, many disasters hadn’t yet occurred, and the magnetic field generator and the main city represented the peak of human technology and architecture.

After that, everything went downhill.

A mechanical voice announced:
“Dear passengers, due to limited residential resources in the main city, the Lighthouse and Eden residential areas are full. You will be temporarily housed in military quarters. Please find your assigned residence according to your ID card and await further instructions.”

An Zhe took out his newly issued ID card.
The number had changed—it was now 3124043702.
3 represented the human base, 1 represented the main city, and the rest designated his specific housing location.

People began murmuring to each other, realizing their addresses were scattered.
“I get it,” someone said. “Lighthouse and Eden workers don’t face danger, so no one dies. Their housing is full. The military loses people often, so there are lots of vacancies—they’re stuffing us in there.”
The others quickly agreed.

Before long, the shuttle stopped and let them off.
An Zhe and a few others assigned to Building 24, Unit 04, entered the building and began fumbling around with the elevator—something not found in the outer city.

Colin got off at the 36th floor.
An Zhe reached the 37th.
There were no more buttons above—that was the top floor.
Two doors faced each other, both sealed with green tape.
An Zhe tore off the seal for Unit 02 and scanned his card to enter.

The main city apartments were clearly more spacious.
This was a one-bedroom suite, with a private bathroom and kitchen.
The living room had a simple tea table and a gray soft couch.
On the wall across from the sofa was a black square, which looked like a large tablet.
He stepped closer and pressed the button beneath it.

“…Successfully relocated to the main city. Emergency defense protocol engaged.
According to the United Front Center, the base will enter a 5–10 year consolidation period until the next generation matures.
Meanwhile, the Lighthouse suspects the outside monsters have undergone high-level intelligent mutations.
The current insect swarm invasion was likely a collective act triggered by breeding season.
To prevent genetic leakage, the Lighthouse recommends the United Front halt high-risk operations and shift focus to resource production and military research to find solutions.”

“Now switching to Mr. Chen, a Lighthouse researcher.”

The screen changed from a suited anchor to a serious-looking middle-aged man in a green lab coat.

“As everyone knows, arthropod-type monsters are aggressive.
But during breeding season, they also require protein-rich, high-quality animal flesh as incubators for their eggs.
We suspect this is why they attacked. After all, reproduction is a species’ primary instinct—they’re capable of anything.
Their collective consciousness… This point, we can’t ignore…”

The anchor interrupted: “In this situation, what would you like to convey to the public?”

“The outer city has completely fallen—that’s unfortunate,” the researcher said.
“But we’ve minimized leaks and left no chance for the monsters to thrive.
What I want to tell everyone is—
there’s no need to worry about the main city’s safety.
It is humanity’s crystallization of hope. Its level of security ensures that it cannot be breached by external monsters.
And don’t panic—
I’ve received news that our cultivation tech has advanced.
Increased production is possible. The base is entering a population expansion phase.
Our future is bright…”

The researcher droned on, mostly offering reassurance.
After he finished, the anchor connected to a military official to report recent fieldwork progress.

An Zhe thought the main city’s news was far more… enthusiastic than the outer city’s.

He found it interesting.
When the broadcast finally ended and the screen turned a dull gray with light music, he shut it off.

By then, it was evening.
From the bedroom window, the first stars had begun to appear.
In the distance stood a massive black cylinder—it was so huge it occupied a quarter of his view, towering above all buildings like a giant monster lying dormant in the city’s center.
Auroras flickered rapidly around it.

An Zhe guessed—this must be the legendary magnetic field generator.

He looked at it for a long time, then opened the door to go eat dinner.
The main city, like the outer city, had public dining halls on some floors.

At that moment, he noticed the seal on his neighbor’s door across the hall had also been torn off.

An Zhe didn’t care to investigate who his neighbor was or when they returned.
Today had begun with too much chaos. He didn’t like it.
He hoped to end the day quietly.

And so he did—peacefully, until the next morning.

His communicator buzzed with a message—
All administrative personnel transferred from the outer city were to gather at Eden’s gate.

Last night, An Zhe had studied the main city’s map and the base handbook.
He now knew the main city had around 20,000 permanent adult residents—70% military, 30% researchers and admin staff.

The outskirts included armories, military bases, helipads, train stations, and housing.
At the center were the three core institutions:

First, the United Front Center—aka the military command, responsible for coordinating soldiers and supplies.

Second, the Research Center, commonly called “the Lighthouse” for its tower-shaped building.
The United Front and the Lighthouse each had a skyscraper, linked by a bridge. Together, they formed the “Twin Towers.”

Third, the “Breeding, Cultivation, and Education Center,”
responsible for food and nutrition production (An Zhe guessed this was where humans grew potatoes) and raising children.
Human infants grew up there and received early education.
Due to the name’s length, people simply called it “Eden.”

An Zhe’s future workplace—was Eden.

He looked at the distant Twin Towers, then at Eden.
He felt a bit excited.
He had never seen human babies before.

His spores were soft, green things.
He wondered—would human babies look like that?

Could caring for human babies help him learn how to care for his own?

…Probably not.