The television displayed silent images.
The camera was shooting from outer space.
In the dark and vast expanse of space, stars twinkled and adorned the background.
At a distance, numerous cone-shaped objects floated eerily and spectacularly.
Harrison Clark, who had spent two months in the military, recognized these cone-shaped objects.
They were the pride of the World Government, representing the pinnacle of human technology, the Starry Sky Fleet that was said to usher in the next era.
With over a thousand large main ships, tens of thousands of escort ships, and nearly a hundred thousand small and medium-sized battle cruisers.
Next to the fleet, several large space stations were busily manufacturing colonial ships capable of carrying up to two hundred thousand people.
Nearly a hundred colonial ships had been built, just waiting for the breakthrough in cryogenic technology's reliability, after which twenty million people would board the colonial ships and take the most distant step into space.
The enormous fleet, when stacked together, looked awe-inspiring.
Suddenly, a glimmer of light emerged from the cosmic background in the fleet.
Then, points of light began to flicker and burst in waves, almost illuminating the pitch-black universe.
This was an explosion; in a very short time, these more than a hundred thousand warships exploded simultaneously.
In the blink of an eye, these hundred thousand spaceships turned into brilliant fireworks, completely dissipating in space.
The beautiful scenes on television were filled with despair.
In the fleet, tens of millions of lives were lost in an instant.
Human civilization's proudest military force vanished in an instant.
A voice-over appeared on the television.
"This was the scene five minutes ago. Our Starry Sky Fleet has been annihilated."
The voice was calm, but there was an undertone of sadness and despair.
Harrison Clark knew who the voice belonged to.
When he was in the military, he often heard this voice speaking on television.
He was the current leader of the World Government.
The voice had barely fallen on the television screen when a huge, disk-shaped black shadow suddenly appeared, quickly approaching the camera.
The speed of the black shadow's flight was unimaginably fast, yet there was no propulsive medium being ejected from its rear, indicating that the propulsion technology of the black shadow was different from all known energy technologies possessed by humanity.
This was the very object Harrison had seen hovering in the air on a previous occasion.
After breaking through the fragmented belt of the Starry Sky Fleet's wreckage, the black shadow suddenly stopped in space.
Seeing an enormous object transitioning from extreme motion to extreme stillness, defying the law of inertia, produced an unbearable discomfort in Harrison. It was like a cat scratching glass by his ear, making him dizzy, nauseous, and wanting to vomit.
Then, the television picture disappeared, leaving only darkness, but the voice-over continued.
In an indescribable tone, the voice said, "I'm sorry. We have lost. We prepared for this day for five hundred years, and still, we lost. We couldn't even... put up the slightest resistance. I'm sorry…"
The voice gradually faded.
Four words suddenly appeared on the television screen: "Signal interrupted."
It turned out that these people knew all along that this day would come.
The Starry Sky Fleet, the military system, and other structures were all prepared for this day.
However, the gap in power between the two sides was too great, just as an ant's nest, no matter how sturdy, was futile in the face of a world-ending flood.
This was not even a case of a mantis trying to block a car.
As he contemplated this, Harrison suddenly felt an itch in his nose, rubbed it unconsciously, and looked down. His hand was covered in sticky, crimson blood, but he had no idea when it had started to flow.
Hmm, that ghostly thing should have entered the atmosphere by now, right?
Just like the last time.
Without warning, the television exploded, and the room light dimmed.
Harrison's vision turned white again, and the familiar yet strange tearing pain surged through his body from various points.
Despite having experienced this once before and being mentally prepared for it, he still couldn't resist the soul-wrenching pain.
He slowly slumped to the ground.
Just before succumbing, he managed a vague curse in his mind.
He knew it would be like this; hiding underground was useless.
…
He opened his eyes.
The sky was getting light again.
As Harrison lay quietly in bed, he caressed the quilt with his fingers. As the pain receded and his mind cleared, he silently recalled the melodies of "Boring" and "Deep in the Night" twice.
Only then did he slowly sit up, hugging his knees and lost in thoughts, with a faint sense of melancholy in his heart.
The first time he had died in his dream, it had been so sudden that he had no idea what had happened and therefore had no feelings about it.
This time, knowing some of the causes and consequences, and being shocked that humanity would actually be destroyed a thousand years later, he felt a newfound emotional turbulence.But in reality, he had no real connection with that world, nothing he couldn't let go of, so he always felt a sense of isolation from the world a thousand years later.
Up until now, he still couldn't be a hundred percent sure whether it was reality or an extraordinarily realistic dream because, be it a dream or reality, there were many illogical things.
But he just couldn't help feeling regretful for the demise of the entire human civilization.
It was too sad. The entire civilization had worked together for five hundred years, but in the end, it was still destroyed in the blink of an eye.
In the vast universe, humans were just too insignificant and tiny.
It was a difficult feeling to describe, with a sense of lamenting the fate of others, a bit of helplessness, and a touch of regret and loss.
It took a long time for Harrison Clark to free himself from this complex emotion.
He laughed at himself mockingly and thought, even if it were true, so what?
Even if humans really perished a thousand years later, so what?
What does it have to do with me?
Whether it's now or a thousand years later, I'm just an insignificant ordinary person.
What can I change?
What can I meddle with?
I am already trying my best to take care of myself.
Harrison Clark jumped off the bed and instinctively said, "Vivian, please make me a cup of..."
Forget it, how could I make the same mistake again.
Harrison Clark shrugged, made breakfast himself, put a cup of hot milk and two buns in the microwave, and pressed the button.
There was a crackling sound, and a light crunch came from the microwave.
The ceiling light in the kitchen went out, and the power tripped.
White smoke rose from the back of the microwave, and a burnt smell filled the kitchen.
The microwave was burnt.
He hadn't used the microwave in a year, and he was a bit absent-minded, forgetting that metal objects couldn't be put inside.
Bad luck, at least a hundred or two bucks lost.
Harrison Clark grumbled and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
As he poured water into the mouthwash cup, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of his slightly pale face in the mirror, and he paused momentarily.
He clearly remembered that his complexion wasn't like this before.
Although being an apartment manager wasn't an outdoor high-intensity job, he still had to walk around outside quite a bit.
Harrison Clark's original physique wasn't particularly strong, but it wasn't weak either, and his skin color was standard, neither yellow nor white.
But the face in the mirror had a sickly paleness to it, a clear sign of severe sub-health caused by not going outside for too long and lacking exercise and sunlight exposure.
Harrison Clark was puzzled.
I just slept for one night, what happened?
Did the changes in my physical condition in my dreams get inherited outside?
This time, he hardly went out in the dream.
Anyway, Vivian would have everything prepared, and he knew that sooner or later he would die, so whether he exercised or not didn't matter.
So, in the last two or three months of his dream, his health and complexion had indeed changed to this state.
Considering that there was no difference before and after the last awakening, he thought it would be the same this time, so he didn't pay any attention to it.
Now he knew the reason.
Last time, when he was a welfare recipient, although he was also immersed in pleasure, he didn't lock himself in his room as a shut-in, but went out and played basketball and ran from time to time.
After all, last time he was still thinking about the pretty girls among the other welfare recipients and maintained a moderate amount of exercise, so the change in his skin color before and after wasn't obvious.
But this time, after being a reserve soldier for two months and training a bit, he then became a shut-in for ten months, and it was the kind of shut-in without seeing the sun, resulting in some serious problems.
Harrison Clark rubbed his face, then clenched his fist, feeling a little weak.
Never mind, he'd pay more attention from now on and resume his running habit this month.
But before that, he should copy the songs.
Harrison Clark took a day off during the day, locked himself in his room all day, and didn't even go out for lunch, painstakingly wrote down the complete score arrangements for the two songs by hand.
He hadn't yet mastered the digital arrangement technique, so he had to rely on pure manual work.
Although it was a little harder, when he looked at the notebook filled with sheet music, Harrison Clark's heart felt unprecedentedly full.
Outside the window, the sun was setting, and its rays streamed in through the window, shining on the black man-made leather cover of the notebook, reflecting a hazy light.
Harrison Clark gently stroked the cover, his heart filled with expectation.
No matter if I can continue to have these dreams, or if I can copy more songs later, as long as I manage these two songs well, there should be some difference in my fate, right?
What should I do with the first bucket of gold I make?
How much can I make from this first bucket of gold?