Carl stared at the waveform on the screen and tapped the keyboard twice with his fingers.
“The signal is still the same,” he said. “It’s intermittent, but it does follow a pattern.”
Chen Hao leaned over for a look. The line looked like a crooked little snake, slowly crawling across the screen. He stared at it for a while but couldn't figure it out, so he simply sat back down in his chair.
"Don't just say 'that,' what exactly do you mean?"
“Like a heartbeat.” Carl pointed to a distinct wave pattern. “Look here, three short beats followed by one long beat, then a pause, and then it happens again. What else could it be but a biological rhythm?”
Susan looked up from another terminal: "We didn't detect any vital signs. The nameplate itself is metal, so there's no way it could have any physiological activity."
“I’m not saying it’s actually jumping,” Carl rolled his eyes. “I’m saying its rhythm—is off. It’s too synchronized, not like natural interference.”
Nana stood in the corner, her eyes glowing with a faint blue light. She remained silent, data flowing rapidly within her, the heat sink emitting a soft hum.
“I tried seven decoding models,” she said. “They all failed. The signal strength was too low, and the noise level was over 85 percent.”
“Then let’s try a different approach.” Chen Hao leaned back lazily in his chair. “You guys are always thinking of using machines to forcibly dismantle it, but is it possible… it’s meant to be seen?”
"What do you mean?" Susan asked.
“What I mean is,” he sat up a little straighter, “don’t treat it as data, try treating it as a language.”
The room was silent for a few seconds.
Carl frowned: "You mean, this thing is 'talking'?"
"Who knows?" Chen Hao shrugged. "The ancients left things so that people could understand them, right? If no one can decipher them, then it's all for nothing."
Nana's eyes flickered.
“Switch to the non-linear pattern recognition program,” she whispered. “Reconstruct the temporal axis based on the syllable structure of the language.”
The waveforms on the screen began to recombine. The previously chaotic lines were straightened, cut, and rearranged. The system automatically marked the recurring three-segment units, with a fixed interval between each group.
“A matching structure was found,” Nana said. “It has a 62 percent similarity to the ‘root-modifier-ending’ pattern in known languages.”
"Better than guessing blindly," Chen Hao grinned.
“But that’s not enough.” Susan brought up another interface. “Even if it’s a language, we need to know what it’s saying. We need context.”
“The symbols on the pottery jar,” Chen Hao suddenly said. “Those diagonal lines, you said before that were the Fibonacci sequence?”
“Yes.” Susan nodded. “The increasing spacing follows mathematical rules.”
"Could it be," he pointed to the waveform on the nameplate, "that this signal is also encoded in a similar way? For example, using numbers to represent direction, or time?"
Nana didn't answer immediately. Her processor was rapidly comparing two sources of information: the sequence of scratches on the rim of the pottery jar and the pulse frequency of the nameplate.
A few seconds later, she said, "Use the Fibonacci sequence as the decoding key and substitute it into the signal timing axis."
On the screen, the previously disordered data blocks began to move and recombine, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle being put back into place one by one.
“Image reconstruction in progress,” she said.
When the first frame popped up, no one reacted.
It was a starry sky.
These aren't just random stars; they're a three-dimensional star map precise to the angle and distance. Seven main stars form a unique ring structure, with one star specifically marked and accompanied by a string of small numbers.
"These are... coordinates?" Karl's voice lowered.
“Not just that.” Susan zoomed in on the image. “The relative positions of these celestial bodies correspond to celestial phenomena at a specific point in time. I can calculate it.”
She quickly entered several parameters and retrieved the celestial motion model. The system began to reconstruct the orbital changes.
“If this marker is the starting point,” she said, “then it points to an approximate age of… 120 million years ago.”
"One hundred million?" Chen Hao almost slid off his chair. "Did you forget to write 'ten thousand'?"
“No.” Susan stared at the result. “The margin of error is plus or minus five million years. This is not a period that modern civilization can trace back to.”
“Back then, the land was still inhabited by dinosaurs,” Carl murmured. “In the deep sea, there were at most some shrimp and insects.”
“Not necessarily,” Nana suddenly said.
All eyes turned to her.
“I just accessed the geological database,” she said. “During that period, the planet experienced a superplate rupture. The Mariana-class abyss region once had a long-term, stable hydrothermal ecosystem that lasted for about 38 million years.”
“You mean…” Susan’s eyes widened slowly, “that intelligent life might have originated there?”
“The conditions are right,” Nana continued. “High pressure, darkness, and abundant chemical energy. Although there is a lack of light, there are a large number of sulfide oxidation reactions, which is enough to support the evolution of complex food chains.”
"Wait a minute." Chen Hao raised his hand. "You mean, someone is developing a civilization while gnawing on minerals near the underwater black smokers?"
“Theoretically possible,” Nana said. “Some deep-sea creatures have already exhibited rudimentary social behaviors and tool-using abilities. If evolution takes long enough…”
“Then how do they record information?” Carl interrupted. “Writing? Drawing? Using stones to write Morse code?”
“No need for that.” Chen Hao stroked his chin. “They can hear. Ocean currents make sounds, volcanic eruptions make vibrations. Maybe they remember things by ‘listening’.”
Susan suddenly stood up and strode to another terminal. She pulled up the composition analysis report of the residual liquid in the ceramic jar and then opened the alloy particle distribution diagram on the nameplate.
“The dye contains high concentrations of manganese and iron,” she said. “These elements produce a piezoelectric effect under certain pressure—they can release electrical signals when subjected to force.”
"You mean," Chen Hao squinted, "that when they 'wrote' words on the jars, they actually left behind a signal that could be 'played'?"
“Possibly,” she nodded. “Like a cassette tape.”
“So this isn’t an antique,” Chen Hao laughed. “It’s a USB flash drive and a hard drive, with a built-in media player.”
No one responded.
Only the soft hum of the machine remained in the room.
Nana's voice rang out again: "I have completed the star map calibration. The positions of the seven stars match the current coordinates of the Milky Way with a 99.4% accuracy. The marked offset coordinates are located 12,300 meters below the South Pacific Ocean, which is the core area of that plate rift."
“In other words,” Susan said slowly, “this civilization didn’t migrate there later. They lived there from the very beginning.”
"And they live quite a long time," Chen Hao said. "Thirty million years, enough for several dynasties to rise and fall."
“But they’ve disappeared,” Carl said softly. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here guessing.”
“It’s not necessarily disappearance,” Nana said. “It could also be subsidence. With plate tectonics, their habitats are buried in deeper layers of the Earth’s crust. Current detection methods cannot penetrate them.”
“So they’re hiding things.” Chen Hao looked at the star map. “Not because they’re afraid someone will steal it, but because they’re afraid of being completely forgotten.”
Susan was silent for a moment, then opened a new document. The title was simply: The Origin of Civilization.
She started typing.
The first one reads:
"Existing models of life evolution need to be reassessed. The origin of intelligent life may not be on land, nor under the sun, but in the deepest ocean, in the darkest night, where it survived by breathing on Earth itself."
Carl crouched down to inspect the connectors of the signal shielding box. He found a loose wire, tightened it again, and wrapped it with two more layers of tape.
"I hope this thing doesn't break down at the crucial moment," he muttered.
Chen Hao picked up a pen and drew a few lines on the draft paper. He connected the points on the star map and marked several possible directions of extension.
“We need to create a new map overlay,” he said. “We won’t be able to find things by just looking at the ground anymore.”
Nana's cooling light glowed a faint red; the multidimensional simulation was still running in the background. Her voice rang out calmly:
"The initial model has been completed. The next step is to integrate sonar data for area scanning."
Susan's finger hovered over the submit button, but she didn't press it.
Chen Hao was still drawing on the paper.
Carl stared at the indicator light on the shielding box.
The lamp flickered.
Then it turned green.
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