The technology and culture on the surface have been destroyed, and even the satellites and space stations in orbit around the blue planet have been almost completely destroyed by the dense asteroid debris.
Almost all of them...
That is, not all of them.
The Torch deep-space communication satellite is one of the lucky ones.
Although the solar panels were punctured and some parts were damaged, the "torch" is still maintaining basic functions, diligently performing its job of transmitting the received Martian signals back to Earth.
Due to damage to the solar panels and unstable power supply, the "Torch" satellite can only emit signals intermittently after each recharge, lasting approximately one hour each in the morning, noon, and evening.
Due to damage to the audio components, the Torch satellite could only transmit video images and could not transmit synchronized audio, and the video quality was severely degraded.
For example, the footage from 100 cameras will switch randomly, and sometimes it will lag.
The receiving antenna on Earth had already sunk to the bottom of the sea in the tsunami, and Earth had not given it any new instructions. The "torch," having lost its target, began to send radio waves indiscriminately to Earth via public frequencies.
All monitors and televisions connected to power around the world received the same image.
The chaotic world is as if someone has pressed the pause button.
...
Wenchang, Qiongzhou Island, Survivor Point Square.
Over the past few days, more and more people have been gathering in the plazas of various survivor sites across Earth. Unlike previous riots, the reason people are gathering here is because the plazas have the largest television screens.
At fixed times in the morning, noon, and evening, people sit quietly in front of the television screen.
"That's Mars, right?"
"I heard that he went to Mars alone to save Earth, but after the mission failed, he never came back."
"He's a true hero!"
"How cruel! How could they leave him alone on Mars?"
"I heard that person is going to die soon, and no one can save him."
"The resources on Mars will run out sooner or later. Even if he doesn't starve to death, he will freeze to death."
"My God, how can someone survive alone? Isn't this just waiting to die alone on Mars?"
"He's so pitiful."
"He didn't give up even after all that, so we should try our best to live on too!"
The story spread like wildfire, from one person to ten, and from ten to a hundred, until the hero's deeds were known to every corner of the planet Earth.
The state propaganda machine also played a role in this, as policymakers found that such propaganda was faster and more effective than the use of force to suppress riots.
Even during times of war, the power of propaganda should never be underestimated.
In the various survival points around Earth, people are prone to conflicts, fights, and even riots due to food shortages.
The television screen was showing footage of the automated restaurant at the "Bird's Nest" base, and the camera angle of the automated restaurant was a close-up of Zhang Fan's dining position.
In the scene, Zhang Fan is eating small bites of "coarse grains" on his plate, a punishment for losing his duel with Bob.
"Oh my god, he's eating dog food!"
"I've seen him eat this several times already. Does he eat dog food every day?"
"So pitiful."
"It breaks my heart."
"Sigh, it's even worse than what we eat..."
People who saw the television footage fell silent, and feelings of shame, guilt, and self-reflection spread through the crowd.
"Um..." someone patted the person next to them on the shoulder, "I have a few steamed buns at home, leftovers from yesterday. If you don't mind, bring your family over tonight to eat together."
"Oh?" The person next to me was flattered, then overjoyed. "Great! I have a few bags of noodles at home, I'll bring them with me."
"Hey, are you free tonight?" People were extending invitations to those around them. "I have some guests at my place..."
"How about bringing your family over to my house tonight?"
When humanity learns to share again, hatred and riots will vanish without a trace.
Of course, since the automated restaurant only has one fixed camera, people will never be able to see the pile of big fish and meat that Bob is protecting across from Zhang Fan.
...
South America, Rio de Janeiro, a human survival site.
In a dilapidated house underground, the air was thick with the pungent smell of alcohol. A two-meter-tall South American man lay in the center of the house, surrounded by empty bottles. His eyes, like those of a dead fish, stared lifelessly at the ceiling.
"Ali! You're drinking again! When are you going to stop this depravity?!" A middle-aged man pushed open the door, grabbed the burly man on the ground by the collar, and lifted him up.
"Coach Tyson! Don't worry about me!" The burly man pushed the middle-aged man aside, raised the bottle, and gulped down more wine.
"Look at yourself! You're nothing like a world boxing champion!" the middle-aged man roared. "Boxing? Have you forgotten? Have you forgotten the name 'Muhammad Ali'?"
The drunkard in front of them was none other than Muhammad Ali, the three-time world boxing champion, the current holder of the gold belt, and the "King of Boxing." Due to his tall stature and abundant facial hair, he was nicknamed "The Gorilla."
"Hahaha, to hell with boxing!" Ali let out a mournful, eerie laugh. "Boxing? The world is already a wasteland, who would still box? Coach Tyson, tell me! Tell me! Who still cares about boxing! Waaah—ahhh—"
A two-meter-tall South American giant cried his heart out like a child in front of his coach.
Tyson's coach didn't say anything, but instead turned on the mini TV and placed it in Ali's hands.
"See for yourself."
Ali took the mini TV with a puzzled look.
On television, Zhang Fan, wearing boxing gloves, was seen punching a heavy bag. Ali recognized the man in the video; he was now synonymous with "hero."
"This is the same screen since morning. He has been attacking for at least 3 hours."
Ali's eyes were fixed on something.
"He printed your picture on a sandbag, do you know what that means?"
Ali gripped the television tightly in his hand.
"Look at his eyes! Can you see the fighting spirit in them?"
Ali's eyes lit up.
"Coach Tyson!" Ali clenched his fists and knelt on the ground. "Please continue training me!"
"Why?" Tyson looked quietly at Ali, who was kneeling.
"Because I firmly believe that one day he will stand on the same ring as me!"
"No matter what day it is in the future, I don't want to lose to him!"
"good!"
Coach Tyson knew that "Muhammad Ali" was back!
What Tyson's coach didn't know was that due to video buffering, Zhang Fan's three-minute boxing training session was played repeatedly for three hours. And given Zhang Fan's poor drawing skills, it's not entirely his fault that Bob looked like Muhammad Ali; after all, Muhammad Ali himself resembled a gorilla.
...
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