Chen Hao stared at the star map on the screen; the shifted star was still in its original position. He blinked, then rubbed his temples; his shoulders ached as if they had been pressed against an iron plate all day.
"This thing won't move anymore, will it?" he muttered, not expecting an answer.
Nana stood to the side, tracing a few lines in the air with her fingers, and brought up a new data stream. "Coordinates stable, no change."
"That's good." He breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back, the chair creaking under its weight. His ankle still ached slightly; the fall while fixing the pipes had been quite severe. But he didn't mention it; it wouldn't have mattered. Nana would only say, "I suggest you rest."
He glanced down at the few pages of paper piled in the corner of the control panel, their edges curled and the writing blurred. They were remnants brought back from the research station, titled "Closed Ecosystem Cultivation Technology," followed by a bunch of incomprehensible numbers. He'd looked at them once before, but found it too troublesome and just left them there.
Now he's picked it up again.
“We have heat, water, and enough electricity,” he said. “Why not eat something fresh?”
Nana turned her head. "You mean agricultural planting."
“Yes.” He nodded. “Potatoes and radishes are cold-resistant and easy to grow. We still have some seeds in the warehouse, which we found when we were clearing out supplies last time, but we haven’t used them.”
“It’s feasible,” she said. “The space needs to be modified to establish a temperature control and lighting system.”
"Let's do it then." He slammed the paper on the table. "Anyway, we're just idling around."
Nana immediately began searching the base's structural diagram. A few seconds later, two areas lit up with red boxes: the underground warehouse and the eastern maintenance workshop.
“Underground warehouses have better insulation,” she said, “but the humidity is higher, so ventilation equipment needs to be installed.”
“Ventilation is easy.” He stood up and stretched his legs. “Just take an old fan and install it. Then lay down a layer of plastic sheeting to keep out the moisture.”
“The list of available materials has been generated.” She pulled up the list. “Two metal supports are missing and need to be salvaged from the abandoned sleds.”
“Okay.” He grabbed his coat. “Let’s get started while we still have the energy.”
The two went to the tool shed first. Chen Hao pulled out a serrated knife and a canvas bag. Nana took down a broken plastic sheet from the wall, measured the dimensions, and began cutting.
"Use this as a wall?" He watched her insert the plastic sheet into the metal frame. "Will it hold up?"
“The double-layer structure reduces heat loss,” she said. “Simulation results show that the internal temperature difference can be maintained within a suitable range.”
“Sounds like a sandwich,” he grinned. “Like a vegetable sandwich.”
"The analogy is illogical," she said.
"As long as you can understand it."
They dragged the materials to the underground warehouse. The door was rusted shut, and Chen Hao had to kick it twice to open it. Inside were several boxes of freeze-dried food and empty cans, and in the corner was a broken air purifier.
“This is it.” He looked around. “Clear a piece of land and build a small shed first.”
Nana started scanning and marked the optimal layout area. Chen Hao began moving boxes, making one or two trips, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. His body, still recovering from repairing the pipes, was really weak, and he almost slipped on the third trip.
“Your physical strength has dropped by 18 percent,” she said.
"Shut up," he panted. "I'm fine."
They assembled the metal frame into a rectangular structure and then fixed the plastic panels onto it. The seams were wrapped with three layers of tape, making it look crooked, but at least it resembled a shed.
Next was the lighting. Chen Hao removed two spare LED lights from the main control room, connected them, and tested them. The light was a stark white, making the plastic wall look particularly desolate.
“It’s not bright enough,” he said.
“Adjustable current enhances output,” she said, “but it increases energy consumption.”
"It's alright." He waved his hand. "There's more electricity than we can use, why should we save it?"
The lights were turned up again, filling the studio with a warm yellow glow. Chen Hao nodded in satisfaction.
"Next step, soil."
In the corner of the warehouse was a bag of potting soil, a remnant from the old world. The packaging was printed with "General-purpose cultivation substrate," the words almost worn away. He tore open the bag, and a faint musty smell wafted out.
"Is it still usable?" He pinched the clod of earth.
"Tests show that the microbial activity has not been completely lost," she said. "Artificial nutrient supplementation can be used in conjunction with this."
"That'll have to do." He poured the soil into several seedling trays and smoothed it out with his hands.
Then came the drip irrigation system. They repurposed old IV tubing into thin pipes, connecting one end to a water tank and the other to the soil. Nana adjusted the flow rate, and the water droplets slowly seeped into the soil, drop by drop.
"That's about it." He wiped his hands. "Let's plant them."
He took the potato tubers out of the sealed box, each with a bud. He carefully placed them into the dug holes and covered them with soil. Next came the radish seedlings, their tiny roots curled up; he was careful not to break them, so he moved very slowly.
He clapped his hands as he put in the last plant.
"It's done."
Nana pressed the switch, the temperature control started, the fan spun, and the lights stayed on. A few lines of text appeared on the screen: Temperature 18°C, Humidity 65%, Light Cycle 12 hours.
"The system is working normally," she said.
Chen Hao plopped down on the folding chair next to him, sinking halfway into it. He looked up at the greenery in the greenhouse; although there were only a few tender shoots, they certainly radiated vitality under the light.
"It's just like that pot of scallions on the balcony when I was a kid," he said.
“Different species,” she said, “but they are all plants.”
"It's the same thing." He yawned. "Anyway... it looks comfortable."
He squinted, his eyelids growing heavier. After a long day of activity, his body was at its limit. But he didn't leave; he just sat there, watching the newly planted seeds.
Nana stood in front of the control panel, continuously monitoring various parameters. Every thirty seconds, she would record the data.
Time passed little by little.
The wind outside gradually subsided, and the base's heating system operated smoothly. The temperature inside the planting shed remained stable, and water droplets continued to drip regularly.
Chen Hao's head bobbed up and down until he finally fell asleep, leaning back in his chair.
Nana glanced at him but didn't wake him.
She turned around and checked the power connector, making sure it wasn't loose. She then increased the fan speed by 0.5 levels to prevent moisture buildup.
Then she stopped what she was doing.
My gaze fell on the radish sprout closest to the light.
The smallest leaf was drooping just a moment ago.
Now, it slightly raised its head.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com