After finishing her words, Ms. Molly hung up the phone rather abruptly.
Hester had a vague feeling that there had been something deliberate in the woman's tone at the end, though she couldn't quite understand why.
That afternoon, accompanied by Liz, Hester successfully completed her registration for the base's spring semester courses.
A flood of unfamiliar information poured in like a tidal wave. Her notepad quickly filled with over forty completely new and unheard-of terms. On top of that, there were so many specialized technical words she couldn't even spell — she could only try to memorize them roughly in her head.
Following Liz's advice, Hester chose almost all of her first-year courses to focus on survival skills, first aid, and physical training. These courses would continue steadily over the next two academic years.
It was said that most Mercury Needle cadets underwent their "Secondary Awakening Special Training" during the vacation at the end of their first year. After successfully awakening, they would occasionally receive field assignments — joining active Mercury Needle operatives on real missions.
Since a person's basic physical condition directly affected their upper limit when activating Bullet Time, spending the entire first year focusing on physical conditioning was considered a wise investment. Conversely, cadets who didn't wish to see combat could use elective courses to delay their exposure to battle — or even apply from the start to transfer into administrative or medical reserve positions.
With Liz's guidance, Hester drafted her preliminary course schedule:
Rapid Power Group Training
Speed-Type Group Training
Endurance-Type Group Training
Fundamentals of Tactics
Introduction to Weaponry
Basic Firearms Practice
Basic Vehicle Operation
Fundamentals of Wilderness Survival
Applied Tactics and Terrain Mapping
…
"Can I submit it like this?" Hester asked.
"It feels like something's missing," Liz said, staring at the screen. Then she suddenly realized something and laughed. "Ah—no wonder! You only picked the required courses!"
"The limit for new cadets is twelve classes," Hester glanced at the handbook beside her. "I don't think I have the energy to take anything else."
"No, that's not what I meant. I'm not telling you to study more," Liz leaned forward and opened the elective course menu. "I'm saying you should pick something that lets you rest a little."
The screen displayed seven or eight major categories, each with its own list of subtopics.
"Come on, at least choose one. You'll like them," Liz said seriously, crossing her arms. "Everyone needs literature—or music."
"…What's the use?"
"Not much," Liz admitted with a faint smile. "Besides Edgar, have you ever read other novels before?"
"I've read a few short stories. From newspapers," Hester replied.
"How did you feel about them?"
"…"
Hester sensed that Liz was waiting for a certain kind of answer, but she couldn't quite grasp what Liz meant. Most of those tabloid stories were about men's affairs or women's betrayals—she couldn't say she had learned anything meaningful from them, nor did she know how to respond.
When Liz saw Hester's silence, she thought the girl was simply reflecting deeply on the question. A wave of emotion stirred in her heart.
She sighed softly. "Actually, the atmosphere here at the base is already quite open-minded. Whatever trouble you run into, you can usually find someone who'll help you solve it. But…"
"But?"
"But some things can never be discussed openly," Liz said quietly. "There will always be things that are hard to talk about, even harder to confess to another person. In any civilized society, something is always repressed. Everyone has truths they can't easily say aloud—but literature, or music, can help us ask those questions."
She paused, her voice becoming even gentler.
"At this base, there will be times when you feel unbearably lonely, or so anxious that it feels like your chest is on fire. No one can really help you in those moments. But if you happen to meet some unfortunate soul in a story—someone going through the same thing as you—then it feels like being caught in a sudden summer rain on a scorching day.
"No matter where you are, no matter how difficult life becomes, if you're willing, literature will always leave a place for you—a small space where you can stay connected to the world."
Hester listened quietly to Liz's words. She could see the bright light in Liz's eyes, the spark of joy that came from speaking about something she truly loved. Hester felt as though she understood a little, but not completely.
"Then what elective do you recommend?" Hester glanced over the course list. "I'm not sure what would suit someone new like me."
"Why, Analysis of Golden Age Literary Works, of course," Liz replied at once. "It's taught jointly by Professors Parros and Singer. Both are experts in cryptography—but their literary insight is extraordinary."
"…The Golden Age?"
At that question, Liz's eyes seemed to come alive completely—as if she had been waiting for this opportunity.
"It's a broad term, Jane. Generally, it refers to human civilization between the Industrial Revolution and the Great Blackout," Liz explained with deep affection. "I adore the works of the Golden Age. Every so-called 'retro' trend after the Great Blackout is just a poor imitation of that era."
"Do you believe it?" she continued, her tone glowing with nostalgia. "In the Golden Age, an ordinary person—if they had money—could board a great ocean liner and travel the world. Every mode of transport—planes, ships, trains—was open to the public. People could go anywhere on Earth, freely."
"In the Golden Age, new plays premiered in theaters every month. For the price of a meal, you could enjoy a wonderful performance of song and dance. Bookstores displayed shelves upon shelves of novels, and books were so cheap it was almost absurd. Printing presses worked around the clock, producing endless new works—poetry, social commentary, scientific essays. Everyone wrote. Everyone read."
"The technological level of that age was astonishing—humanity even reached the stars. Mars was filled with terraformed settlements. Ceres served as a relay station, and manned spacecraft had already reached Pluto."
"The range of human activity in space extended an incredible 4.246 light years. In deep space, countless light-sail vessels traveled at one-fifth the speed of light, reaching Alpha Centauri. They photographed oceans and mountains on Proxima b—and even left behind a flag symbolizing Earth…"
"But even then," Liz whispered, "the people of the Golden Age never grew complacent. They always looked farther—higher—deeper into the cosmos. Always planning their next journey. Every time someone declared that civilization had reached its peak, someone else would soon bring a new dawn. That wasn't some mythical story—it was something humanity truly achieved on its own."
Liz let out a soft sigh.
"Compared to them, what are we now? Most people are like caged birds, trapped on the ground. No one cares about the stars anymore—unless it's to ask whether they can navigate without instruments on a dark night. We can only place our hope in the relics of the Golden Age, trying to glimpse the silhouette of that distant era through what remains."
---
( End of Chapter)