The Pale Blue Dot - 1. Chapter 1 Transparent

The towering smokestacks of the sulfate combustion plant pierced the sky, emitting thick, billowing smoke as usual. The red warning light at its top flashed, reflecting alongside the sparse stars on the transparent dome, creating several bright spots.

Rumor has it that once Gaia-forming is complete, the curtain dome will come down, and we'll be able to gaze at the night sky directly from the surface of the red planet. Of course, by then, it won't be a red planet anymore, and besides, I won't live that long.

After years of debate, a referendum overwhelmingly decided to proceed with the irreversible Gaia-forming project, permanently transforming Ares into what people envisioned. Well, at least what most people envisioned.

"Sorry!" The sudden noise snapped me out of my thoughts. A tall moose entered the elevator, his massive antlers clashing with those of several red deer, producing a series of clattering sounds. As he hastily turned to apologize, more collisions ensued, and I could feel the air pressure from his antlers brushing past mine.

Silent reproach filled the space, and the embarrassed moose's ear tips turned deep red. The situation grew unbearably awkward when the elevator issued an overload warning. He could only apologize again and exit the elevator.

"Big species should be more considerate and not inconvenience others!"

"Yeah, what's he thinking, squeezing into a crowded elevator?"

"Honestly, more and more people are losing their manners these days."

Murmurs of discontent rippled through the enclosed space. I rubbed the spot on my forehead where I had been pushed against the handrail by the red deer in front of me, then turned my gaze back to the giant smokestack beyond the dome.

What would the stars look like without the high-polymer barrier of the dome?

This area had sparser crowds and a more relaxed pace, but it was still crowded enough that if you didn't keep up, you'd get trampled.

As if compensating for the streetlights that had been out for who knows how many years, vibrant neon signs flickered intermittently, adding a touch of tackiness to the already cheap atmosphere.

Bars, nightclubs, hotels. Every sizable city had a place like this--the dark side of the world--where those who could afford it revealed their true selves and indulged in all the needs not acknowledged by surface society.

Love retailers, dressed in bright and avant-garde outfits, leaned against graffiti-covered walls, extending subtle yet clear invitations to passersby. According to some agreement involving too much violence, different species of thugs stood at major street corners, each wearing similar black leather jackets, selling undoubtedly suspect wares--from joy, sorrow, or numbness to family heirlooms pawned in times of crisis--all at a bargain, no deception involved. Meanwhile, in the alleys where even the neon lights couldn't reach, various liquids--possibly red, white, or yellow--splashed against the mottled walls, covering previous sticky stains.

My destination was much simpler, and technically speaking, this colorful street scene wasn't my world; we just shared a similar niche. But isn't that the definition of fellow creatures?

As I walked, I noticed something off--people were carefully avoiding a small area, as if deliberately steering clear of something--a european fallow deer lay on the street, belly down, eyes partially closed and unfocused, with his tongue hanging out. Passersby maintained a respectful distance, passing by as if some invisible barrier kept them away.

It was interesting to see that even in this heaven of magnified desires, the marks of societal norms were still evident on our souls.

They say herbivores are like this, not wanting to stand out because it makes them more noticeable. Just last month, a red deer collapsed in the Central station hall and was left there until it started to rot before the management cleaned it up.

I hesitated for a few seconds, sighed, and pulled out my personal terminal to notify the medical unit. But I knew that public emergency services often refused to enter this area--"brought it on themselves," I imagine they justified.

I glanced back at the european fallow deer on the ground, wondering if I should do more. Before I could reach any conclusion, the crowd behind me pushed me forward, and the deer vanished from my sight.

I sighed again, shook my head, and admitted that I couldn't do anything for the deer. There was no point in being hypocritical and looking for trouble. After all, I didn't want to get myself into more trouble.

"Room 207, up the stairs and to the left," the electronic voice at the reception desk stated flatly, ejecting a room card from one of its slots. Out of habit, I thanked it--being polite never hurts, after all. Who knows when AI might accumulate enough ambition and decide to eliminate its creators?

Following the instructions, I found the room. After several attempts and trying various angles, I finally managed to get the room card to be recognized. Closing the door behind me, I heard the sound of the electromagnetic lock engaging.

I hung my coat on the coat rack and stretched, somewhat surprised to find that the view outside was actually quite nice, not what you'd expect from such a cheap hotel.

Valles Marineris was a bustling commercial district and the site of Ares' largest space elevator, still sparkling with various lights even at night. From this height, it had a kind of magical beauty.

I drew the curtains and poured myself a glass of water, regretting that I hadn't checked whether this was included in the room fee. I certainly didn't want to pay for the previous guest's recycled shower water. Never trust products that assure you it's okay to drink your own urine.

The bathroom door slid shut automatically behind me as I stepped into the shower pod and undressed. Once the pod door sealed, warm, moist air flowed in from the bottom and was drawn away through the overhead vents, creating a strong current.

The temperature-adjusting models are just so comfortable; I should consider getting one for home.

Once the drying process was complete, the pod reopened, and I stepped out, spending some time in front of the mirror tidying my slightly tousled short fur.

Looking at my reflection, I sighed helplessly, resigned. Even among other muntjacs, I was particularly small—no easy feat—with thin arms, visible ribs, and a pitifully narrow chest.

I noticed something odd, leaned closer to the mirror, and scratched at the black stripes along my brow ridges--it was hair turning white, especially concentrated at the point where the stripes met in the center. Damn, the pressure from the recent qualification exams was too much. I definitely needed a good rest afterward. People like me can't afford expensive regeneration treatments...

Suddenly, two sharp clicks, and the bathroom lights went out, making me freeze. A power outage? No, I could see light from the room seeping in through the door crack.

After my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I looked around the bathroom for something that could serve as a weapon, offering some illusion of security, but found nothing suitable.

Gingerly, I slid the door open a crack and peeked out with one eye. The sudden light made me freeze for a moment. Once I recovered, I shook my head vigorously, cursing my own stupidity. Sometimes these weird instincts could be very disruptive to daily life.

I tiptoed back to the room quietly, carefully looking for anything unusual. After confirming there was no one else around, I relaxed and scratched my ears. Was it just my nerves acting up?

By the time I felt the airflow behind me, it was too late. Something covered my head, blocking my vision.

I let out an involuntary yelp of terror, flailing my limbs wildly and hitting something solid and much larger than me. Pushing against it with all my might, I found it unmoving as expected. I immediately tried to run, praying not to trip over anything, while struggling to remove whatever was over my head.

Without any warning, I was overpowered by a crushing force, pinned to the ground. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I felt the hot breath against it.

My heart pounded with a violent intensity, my body spasming uncontrollably. My struggles only made my movements more futile. As I finally rolled over, gasping for breath, a sharp, cold object pressed against my throat.

Pain! I struggled desperately but was caught in the curved fangs clamped down on my throat, locking me in place. My windpipe was crushed, silencing me. Blood flow to my head slowed, my thoughts turning sluggish, my consciousness fading. This... was the difference between the strong and the weak. This... was the power of a predator?"

As if in answer to my question, the fangs tightened, and the last thing I could feel was the warm blood trickling down from my neck.

Facing the mirror, I removed the gauze to check if the bleeding had stopped.

"I wasn't too rough, was I?" A red deer rested his chin between my antlers, nuzzling slowly.

"No, you weren't." I patted his cheek in response, enjoying the tender touch. "But it was so cold, it pulled me out of character for a moment," I said as I watched him place the false teeth on the sink.

"Oh, sorry. I'll be more careful next time." He hugged me lazily from behind, which made me feel secure. As a male, feeling this way seemed a bit unmanly, but being under 160 centimeters tall, it was my only privilege.

"Oh right, it's my turn to prepare, isn't it?" I checked the sodium bicarbonate injection nearby; it was about to expire.

I didn't want to have a stress-induced myopathy, die of rhabdomyolysis in a cheap hotel, and become a sensational headline fed to the bloodthirsty public. Just imagining such a shameful event almost triggered my distress response.

"No need. I'd like to meet again the day after tomorrow," he said, nudging my ear with his wet nose.

"Isn't that a bit soon?" The ticklish feeling on my ear made me laugh as I gently pushed him away.

"I'll be in the antler shedding phase then, and I don't want to go out." He sighed, hugging me tighter.

"What does it matter? Everyone wears fake antlers anyway; no one will dare say anything." I scratched the suddenly itchy skin on my head. It looked like my antlers were about to fall off too. "I can't do the day after tomorrow. How about the day after that?"

"I'm having dinner with my girlfriend that day," he stated simply.

"Oh." I cleared my throat, thinking I had perfectly defused the awkward situation. "Are you planning to tell her about your... preferences?" I knew some couples could accept it.

"No," he said, somewhat detached, placing his hand on my lips and rubbing the tip of my canine tooth with his fingertip. "I'm more hardcore; it has to be real teeth for me to feel anything."

I actually wanted to ask if she would be okay with him seeking pleasure elsewhere, not whether he wanted to try new things with her. But since I didn't even know this red deer's name, I had no standing to say anything.

"Maybe you should consider emigrating to the Lunar?" I suggested. I'd heard the residents there were very tolerant.

"Hah, living next to the Canine Empire and those terrifying reptilian pirates? No way. Just the thought of walking alongside carnivores makes my fur stand on end." He laughed, making a disgusted face, his tone more disdainful than I expected. "See you next time?" He was fully dressed in an instant, and I nodded slightly in response.

After hearing the door close, I stood in front of the mirror for a while longer, looking at my thin reflection and gently touching the tip of my exposed canine tooth with my finger.

I found a path leading to the top of the hotel.

The wind carried a slight ozone scent, probably blowing directly from the air ducts. It felt good, my short fur and the hem of my clothes swaying in the same rhythm.

Leaning on the metal railing, I gazed down at Valles Marineris, imagining the streets of the Lunar--bright, busy, and vibrant. Essentially, an optimized version of Ares.

Canines, herbivores, and reptiles live together. Is that really possible? Maybe one day, I'll see it for myself.

Suddenly, I had a flash of inspiration, an answer to a question that had been bothering me for a long time. I took out my notebook and wrote down the new idea.

After recording it, I turned to the first few pages of the notebook and read my somewhat sloppy handwriting. With the resources at hand, I could barely translate "the strong" and "the weak." What did this sentence mean? I pondered amidst the emerging memories.

"You're quite an interesting muntjac." The red deer coughed up more blood as he spoke.

"Don't talk!" How could I have been so calm back then? He had so many holes on his body, each one gushing blood that showed no signs of stopping.

The nearby sand, saturated with blood, had become sticky. How much blood can a body lose? Even if I lay on top of the red deer, I couldn't cover all the bleeding points because I was too small. I called out to passersby for help, but they all turned away, maintaining a polite but distant stance.

"This is probably my karma." The red deer actually laughed. To this day, I still don't understand what he meant. "Hey, we don't even know each other. Why are you so eager to help?" He had the energy to joke, but I was too frantic to catch his meaning. "Just to be clear, I only go past second base with someone I've had at least two dinners with." Taking a wrong turn led me to this blood-soaked, dying red deer lying on a street corner.

Without much thought and not knowing what I could do to help, I rushed to him. All the first aid knowledge I'd ever heard of or half-remembered from skipping out early on safety training sessions exploded in my mind, but none of it was useful.

"Isn't this what anyone would do?" With my hands covered in slippery blood, operating my personal terminal was very difficult, and I couldn't even switch to voice control mode. But at that time, I didn't know how futile it was to try notifying a hospital. On reflection, seeing a stranger lying in a pool of blood and rushing to help wasn't something just anyone would do.

The red deer laughed again, or at least I thought he was trying to. The coughing, blood-filled gurgles weren't easy to interpret.

"Then... maybe I should take a leap of faith too..." To this day, I'm unsure if that was my imagination.

With a few trembling fingers, the red deer touched my head, smearing half my face with blood. "Only strength gives rise to strife, while weakness falls before the fight. It is born already lost." He recited, imprinting these incomprehensible words into my memory. I was utterly shocked, but I'm certain I saw his brown eyes turn bright red at that moment.

Then, the red deer died.

Still in shock, I remained in the position of trying to stop the bleeding until the authorities arrived. Being treated as a suspect and interrogated non-stop for forty-eight hours was the closest I'd ever come to a mental breakdown until I started preparing for the qualification exams.

Speaking of which, if it weren't for the university's intervention, I'd likely have rotted away in some unnoticed place, so I remain grateful to my advisor. "Repay me by enrolling in the Ph.D. program," I knew he wasn't joking.

Pulling myself out of the memories, I closed the notebook and returned it to my pocket.

By a twist of fate, my efforts to translate the indelible words in my mind led me to read and compare numerous ancient texts, sparking many questions about history. The deeper I delved, the more mysteries I found, and no answers. We've forgotten far more about the past than we remember. I consulted every relevant herbivore expert and scoured all the museums on Ares and its moons, yet made no progress.

How had I not considered it? The answer wouldn't be found on Ares. If any place could provide answers, it would be the Lunar, the only place in the Sol where multiple species still coexist and stories and secrets haven't been distorted by official propaganda. The different versions of events preserved in such a highly diverse society's lore could bring me closer to uncovering the truth of history.

Lost languages, undocumented texts, secrets buried on the other side of the world. I wanted to understand how everything became what it is today and what we could become in the future.

Does the opportunity for change exist?

The ozone smell grew stronger as I straightened up and stretched, looking up at the sky. A spaceship had just left port, leaving a bright trail behind it. Some emotion surged within me, making me reach out, as if I could touch the real stars.