The hovercraft glided steadily along the preset lane like a silver bird skimming above the city.
Through the wide picture window, Leon and Ada could take a close look at this "reborn from the fire" world and the people living in it.
In stark contrast to the old Earth Federation's atmosphere—struggling under high pressure, hovering at the poverty line, rigidly stratified and saturated with despair—what met their eyes was a vibrant, orderly canvas of life, full of hope.
The streets were broad and clean, lined with shade trees, parks and plazas were everywhere. Children chased and played without a care, clear laughter ringing out—no longer fighting to survive among ruins or staring wide-eyed in fear amid danger.
Faces on the sidewalks generally wore an ease and steadiness. There was no trace of the old haste and anxiety in their steps.
Styles of dress varied, showing personal taste, but the materials and workmanship were plainly quality products of Imperial standardized production, guaranteeing basic comfort and dignity. The rags and gaunt faces of the poor were thoroughly a thing of the past.
At community centers, elderly folks gathered to play chess and chat, or used public fitness equipment to stretch their limbs. Their eyes no longer held fear of the future, only the contentment of a peaceful old age.
Young parents pushed strollers and chatted lightly—apparently about newly offered parenting courses at the community center, or weekend plans.
Workplaces were no longer sweat-extraction cages.
Through glass walls around open-plan offices, they could see staff collaborating in bright, plant-filled spaces. Smart robots and automation took on the vast majority of repetitive and hazardous labor, leaving humans to focus on work requiring creativity, emotional connection, and complex judgment.
The Empire's standard work system and generous social benefits meant terms like "overwork" and "survival pressure" had become foreign to most citizens.
The slums that once pocked Federation worlds like sores on a civilization had been razed completely. In their place rose well-planned, well-equipped public housing and green spaces.
Oppression and exploitation—two tumors once rooted deep in the old Federation's "body"—lost their soil under the Empire's absolute force shattering the former order, and a new system built on advanced productivity and perfected law.
This scene of prosperity, peace, and universal happiness realized—in the material universe and in a way far better suited to life's natural course—the "eternal happiness" that the silicon civilization had tried to promise only through forced "ascension" and shedding the flesh.
The Human Empire proved that there is no need to upload consciousness into a cold digital prison, no need to erase individuality or free will. In the real world, by using technology well, distributing resources fairly, and governing society justly, the vast majority can enjoy lives full of meaning, dignity, and happiness.
The body is not the root of pain—it is the vessel that experiences real beauty.
Of course, the Empire is not so "naive" as to think human nature is purely good and to rely totally on self-restraint.
There is always a small cohort of congenital, hard-to-civilize antisocial personalities. Their thought patterns and behavioral tendencies are nearly impossible to hide from the Empire's vast social monitoring and data-analysis network.
From childhood, anomalous behavior patterns, absent emotional responses, and specific traces in cyberspace get captured and analyzed by highly intelligent big-data models and quietly placed on different levels of potential-risk watchlists.
The Empire does not convict lightly for "thought." But once those flagged individuals begin touching legal red lines—
whether by plotting crimes, inciting violence, or taking other actions harmful to public safety—the sensors, monitoring nodes, and AI analysis systems that saturate real and virtual space react at once and lock on with precision.
Often before any substantial damage is done—or just as it begins—the Empire's law enforcement descends like thunder.
This security system—built on prediction and instant response—acts like an invisible, exceedingly dense net, maximizing social harmony and the safety of the great majority, and strangling potential threats in their cradle.
Before long, the hovercraft settled gently at the destination, and Ada parked it in the dedicated lot behind.
The restaurant sat atop a seaside cliff with a superb ocean view.
They stepped out, and a fresh, distinct tang rode the sea breeze across their faces.
Inside, the decor was modern minimalist, dotted with natural elements. Beyond the huge floor-to-ceiling windows stretched the limitless blue of the sea and a sunset melting into gold.
A neatly uniformed, fine-featured elven waitress—pointed ears evident—greeted them with a smile. With elegant manners, she led them to a prime, window-side table.
Seated, they browsed the holo menu hovering above the table.
The menu was beautifully designed, detailing specialty dishes from different Imperial star realms and universes, with ingredients labeled by origin and nutrition.
Ada chose with interest, occasionally asking the elf about certain ingredients—who answered professionally and in detail.
Leon leaned toward classic meat mains.
After ordering, while waiting for the dishes, Leon's gaze swept the other diners.
He saw the warmth of family gatherings, the tender sweetness of couples' dates, and the unrestrained joy of friends' conversations.
Every face shone with genuine ease and pleasure—an inner state born of material abundance, peace of mind, and confidence in the future.
There was no phony hobnobbing, no anxiety over survival—only pure enjoyment of food and time together.
The waitress returned, placing their courses one by one and softly introducing each dish's highlights.
The plating was exquisite, the aromas compelling.
When she left, Leon lifted his water, took a sip, and kept his eyes on the serene, magnificent line where sea met sky—and on this small, harmonious portrait within the restaurant.
He leaned in slightly and murmured to Ada across the table, a barely perceptible chord in his voice:
"Do you see it, Ada? The way everyone is here."
He paused, as if hunting for the words. "It seems… the picture His Majesty meant to achieve—the goal of freeing humanity entirely from poverty and oppression so that every person can seek their happiness and dignity under order… is truly getting closer."
His eyes returned to meet Ada's. Within the blue that had witnessed countless nights and crises there flickered a grain of hope:
"Sometimes I think—maybe… in our lifetime we really can watch that ideal, that eternal age, fully arrive."
Backed by advanced medicine and biotech, "in our lifetime" carried a time and possibility for them far beyond the old era's imagination.
Ada listened, looked around at faces full of happiness, and let a small smile curve her lips—part agreement, part feeling.
She didn't answer at once. She took up her utensil and cut delicately into the dish before her.
She tasted a dessert with elegance—a mousse made from local, gene-optimized tropical fruit—silky, sweet without cloying.
She set down the silver spoon and dabbed her mouth with the napkin.
But when she raised her head again to the window and the seemingly eternal calm of the blue sea, her words turned—her tone gaining a slight, hard-to-hear gravity:
"What we see is indeed beautiful—as if eternal peace is within reach."
She paused as well, her gaze going deep. "But there's still the biggest 'room' that's not been fully cleaned. Only when the dust settles there too, maybe then we can truly exhale."
At that, the hand with which Leon had just raised his water stilled.
Of course he knew what Ada meant.
There was no need to say it. The ultimate shadow hovering over the Empire's highest decision-making circles—and every insider—was the Warp.
The chaotic force that dwells there and those ineffable gods and daemons that feed on the feelings of sapient life remain the most unpredictable and deep-rooted threat on the Empire's road to a truly eternal age.
Their existence is like lethal static in the universe's background radiation, reminding everyone that present prosperity has not come without a price.
Leon set the glass down with the faintest "tak."
He nodded, a brief knife-edge flashing in his eyes before his habitual calm sheathed it again.
"Yeah." A simple answer—everything else unspoken.
Some threats don't suit the warmth of a restaurant conversation. But their presence, like undertow beneath a foundation stone, is always on a knower's mind.
The bill was trivial—deducted automatically on their personal terminals.
They left and returned to the sleek silver hovercraft.
"Where to next?"
Buckling in, Leon asked, setting the heavy talk aside for now.
Ada worked the panel, brought up the city guide, and tapped a shopping district icon glittering like a gem:
"Let's check out the central mall. I've heard this universe's Earth has jewelry made from unique local minerals and crystals—the designs are quite special. I want a look."
Leon smiled with a "figures."
He would sooner read in a comfortable cabin or find a quiet bar for a small drink, but he had always backed his wife's urge to shop.
"No problem—your call." He indulged. "It's our honeymoon—fun first. Besides, once we're back, if the rumors hold, we'll be run ragged again.
Word is, when we return to the prime universe, the Empire may launch several new gate exploration programs at once."
With the prospect of back-to-back work and the dangers of unknown universes, the leisure and company now felt all the more precious.
But just as Ada finished setting the destination and the hovercraft was about to move—
Bzz… bzz…
A distinct, sustained vibration came from Leon's personal field terminal—a phone used by agents.
?
The sudden tone made both of them jolt, and the air hung a beat.
"Work?" Ada's brows pinched—surprise and a hint of displeasure. "That can't be. This leave is top priority. Unless the Empire's in an emergency, no one should be calling."
Leon looked puzzled too. He drew the phone quickly from the inner pocket.
The black screen didn't display a usual task code or encrypted tag. Instead, a very familiar contact name pulsed—
Mike Monadi.
Seeing it, they both eased a hair—but their questions doubled.
Leon punched accept and a small holo screen bloomed between them.
On it, Mike's face—usually wearing a cocksure grin—appeared.
Just now, though, it was scored with fatigue—black bags heavy under the eyes, hair a bit askew—the whole man… beat.
"Mike?" Leon blurted. "What happened to you? You look like you just went a few rounds in the ring."
"What do you think?"
Mike's voice rasped with grievance. Kneading his temples, he groused, image forgotten:
"Your daughter, that's what! By the Emperor… she's got the energy of a perpetual motion machine! Do you know what time it is? It's early morning here!
She's still bright-eyed, asking me for the third reading of Chronicles of the Imperial Expedition. If she won't sleep, I'm going to start hearing things. Nervous exhaustion should count as a workplace injury!"
The backdrop looked like Mike's place—and faint baby babble, full of energy, could be heard.
Leon and Ada traded a look, both smiling wryly.
Yes, they had a daughter—two years old—at that age of boundless curiosity and energy.
For this late honeymoon, after much thought, they'd entrusted her to a trusted old friend—who claimed "lots of parenting experience"—Mike.
They hadn't expected this hard man, unflinching under gunfire and weirdness, to be so undone by a little girl.
"Alright, Mike—thank you." Ada managed a straight face to soothe him. "We've just about finished here. We'll head back soon."
Leon hurried to add, with a touch of make-good: "Hang in there, brother. Drinks are on me when we're back—the best stuff, as much as you can take."
"Drinks?" Mike's eyes lit for a second—but the tide of fatigue washed back. "Fine—your word. Just get back fast so I can decompress.
Also, I'm hearing things too—when you return, odds are a new round of assignments is about to drop. Might want to brace."
"Got it." Leon nodded. "We're on the last stop of our honeymoon anyway. We'll head back after this. Won't be long."
"Mm."
The call ended, the holo faded.
Silence held in the hovercraft a moment. Then Ada couldn't help a small laugh and shook her head: "Looks like our daughter made quite the impression on Uncle Mike."
Leon laughed and sighed, set the destination for the city center mall, and said:
"Let's go. We'll pick out a gift for her too—and then this long-delayed honeymoon can close the loop."
The hovercraft rose and joined the river of city lights and streaming air traffic, carrying the legendary pair on to the next stop of their journey.
______
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