In the quiescent nights, I often found myself gazing up at the star-studded sky, a bittersweet longing for Earth filling my heart.
The swirling darkness of the black hole, with its distorted jets and gravitational pull, captivated my imagination.
It was during those quiet nights that memories of Mr. Kincaid surfaced - a warm smile behind his glasses, his serious yet kind demeanor igniting a flicker of hope within me.
Days turned into weeks, and the absence of Mr. Kincaid loomed over me like a shadow.
Every corner of the classroom felt hollow, the vibrancy dimmed without his infectious enthusiasm.
Lyra and I often found ourselves exchanging glances, unspoken questions lingering in the air.
How could we possibly continue without a guider?
"Have you heard anything new?" I asked Aria one afternoon as we walked through the bustling corridors of our school, illuminated by the ever-changing holographic displays showcasing the latest discoveries in the universe.
"Not much," she replied, her tone a mix of frustration and concern.
"Just more rumors about the research ship. Some say it encountered unexpected gravitational fluctuations near the black hole."
Her eyes darted toward the flickering images, as if searching for answers in the swirling patterns of stars and cosmic phenomena.
My heart sank.
I couldn't shake the feeling that Mr. Kincaid was in danger, caught in the vastness of space, perhaps fighting against forces we didn't yet understand.
"We need to do something," I said, an urgency creeping into my voice.
One evening, as I sat in the classroom overlooking the black hole, I pondered the mysterious nature of the human spirit.
"What do you think happens to us when we die, Lyra?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Lyra, my confidante in this strange new world, was sitting cross-legged on my bed, lost in her own thoughts.
"I think our spirits might go somewhere beyond this physical realm," she replied, her eyes reflecting the shimmering lights of the black hole.
"But what does that even mean? Can we really understand it scientifically?"
"It's fascinating, isn't it?" I said, warming to the topic.
"People have been trying to connect with the spirit world for centuries. Some see it as a battle between the material and the spiritual - like a struggle between the tangible and the intangible."
The next day in class, the somber atmosphere was palpable.
The absence of Mr. Kincaid hung heavy in the air, but our lessons continued.
I couldn't help but share my thoughts with my classmates.
"What if we could connect with Mr. Kincaid in a spiritual way, or with the black hole itself?" I ventured.
"I read somewhere that scientists are exploring the connection between high-energy electromagnetic waves and the spirit. They believe spirits might interact with our physical world through these waves."
The black hole itself is one of the most direct sources of this type of high-energy physical rays, especially when it completely evaporates.
"Maybe spirits are not completely intangible," I said, "They may interact with the material world through high-frequency electromagnetic waves."
The black hole loomed nearby, a constant reminder of the mysteries of the universe and the fate of Mr. Kincaid.
Lyra said to me, "under the starry sky of Black Hole City, I always hear a beautiful legend.
In the distant Earth, whenever night falls and moonlight shines, the legendary Moon Bridge quietly appears,
connecting earthly dreams with the wonders of the universe.
Listen, the soft song of the Moon Bridge begins to rise,
it takes you to a faraway place, where the stars dance joyfully.
"The moon is a warm friend,
and it softly calls out the names of the stars, inviting people to the beautiful realm in the sky."
From the edge of the black hole, that is, the event horizon, the flow of time is like the years solidified into countless tiny wrinkles at this moment.
The periodic oscillation of the visible light signal emitted by the research ship where Mr. is working will gradually decrease in frequency and increase in wavelength under the strong gravitational field. This phenomenon is called gravitational redshift. For observers far away from the black hole, this will cause the color of the light to gradually change from the visible light range to infrared and even longer wavelength electromagnetic waves, until it is almost invisible in the end, leaving only unmeasurable radiation signals, similar to the thermal radiation (i.e. Hawking radiation) of the black hole itself.
When the exploration ship sets sail from the star ring of the black hole city, it will emit a special communication-coded ultraviolet light signal with a frequency of one thousand terahertz. However, as the ship gradually approaches the black hole, the strong gravitational effect causes the light signal to undergo gravitational redshift, and the wavelength gradually becomes longer, eventually falling into the range of visible light and even infrared. For Mr.'s exploration ship, the signal it sends has now entered the radio band. Although from our point of view, the ship never really disappears, because its signal has been transformed into radio waves, it is no longer directly observable to the naked eye or other materials.
For them, the thermal radiation we produce becomes high-energy electromagnetic radiation. They are in the same orbit as the ring, but at a very high speed.
It is like an autumn leaf being slowly sucked into a powerful vortex, the color gradually fades, and finally withers and falls into the center of the vortex. Merge into the embrace of nothingness.
Therefore, the observatory can still receive messages from the research vessel, but to us, it will forever dissipate on the event horizon towards the black hole and will be unobservable.
As I stood on the edge of the precipice overlooking the abyss of the black hole, the weight of the universe bore down on me. The shimmering stars above felt like distant memories, twinkling with the stories of those who had ventured into the unknown. My thoughts returned to Mr. Kincaid, the man whose passion for discovery had inspired countless minds, including mine.
The air was heavy with silence, interrupted only by the faint hum of the observatory machinery behind us. Lyra leaned against the railing beside me, her eyes reflecting the starlight. "I imagine he's navigating through realms we can only dream of," she replied thoughtfully. "Perhaps he's unraveling the secrets of existence, intertwining with the fabric of time and space."
The notion was both comforting and unsettling. If Mr. Kincaid were truly exploring the very essence of the cosmos, then maybe, just maybe, he was still reaching out to us. A flicker of hope ignited within me, a desire to bridge the gap between our worlds.
"Do you think we could find a way to reach him?" I asked, my heart racing with the possibilities. "What if we could harness the technology to communicate through those electromagnetic waves?"
Lyra's brow furrowed in concentration. "It's possible. If we can decode the fluctuations in those waves, we might be able to send a message—something to guide him back." But she added, "however, the time velocity of the spaceship is so fast, which means we might spend a month to send back the message, and the bandwidth might be very slow."
Just then, the door of our classroom swung open, and a group of scientists from the observatory filed in, their expressions a mix of excitement and urgency. They were clad in sleek uniforms adorned with the emblem of our research institute, and their presence filled the room with an air of anticipation.
"Students," one of the lead scientists began, his voice steady yet tinged with urgency, "we've come to share some important updates about the research ship. We will attempt to communicate with them and send crucial information."
The room fell silent, our collective attention drawn to the front. The scientist continued, "Due to the gravitational time dilation effects near the black hole, time operates differently. For them, a single day can equate to several years here. Therefore, we must craft our messages carefully, ensuring they are concise but powerful."
I could feel my heart racing as they began explaining the process. "We'll be sending messages encoded in electromagnetic signals. The challenge is to make them short and impactful, as the delay will mean what takes us years to communicate may only resonate for moments with them."
Lyra leaned in closer to me, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is it. This is our chance."
The scientists began working on the terminal at the front of the room, their fingers flying across the holographic interface. The flickering screens displayed complex algorithms and graphs representing the electromagnetic spectrum. I felt a thrill as I realized we were part of something monumental—an attempt to reach Mr. Kincaid across the cosmos.
"Now, we must decide what to send," the lead scientist announced, turning to us."
"Let's send him the legend," I proposed. "The Bridge connects earthly dreams with the wonders of the universe."
"The moon is a warm friend," I recited as they typed. "It softly calls out the names of the stars, inviting people to the beautiful realm in the sky. The song of the Moon Bridge takes you to a faraway place where the stars dance joyfully."
Then, as the final words were sent, the observatory team stood back, a mixture of apprehension and excitement in their eyes. The countdown began, and I held my breath, feeling the weight of our message as it traversed the cosmic abyss.
"Three... two... one…", and with Ta brilliant flash of light on the screen, the message was sent into the void.
For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. We all stared at the screen, hoping against hope that our words would reach to him, that they would resonate with him in the depths of the black hole.
"Now we wait," the scientist said, breaking the silence. "Due to the time dilation, we may not receive an immediate response. It could take months or even years before we know if our message got through."
"What if he hears us?"
"If anyone can navigate the unknown, it's Mr. Kincaid."