On the third day after Yue 'er's death, Mozi stood alone on the observatory of the String Light Institute. The night sky was clear, the Milky Way crossed the sky, and countless stars gleamed quietly. He did not prepare the funeral like ordinary people, nor did he notify the media or dignitaries. He knew that Yue 'er abhorred those flashy rituals, and her most common words during her lifetime were: "Truth does not need a monument, it lives forever in every inquiring soul."
At 2am, Mozi walks into the control center. Here is the regulatory hub of the "light moss" network, capable of communicating with silicon-based life throughout the solar system. Xiuxiu was already waiting there, with wet tears in her eyes, but her expression was unusually calm.
"Ready?" Mozi asked softly.
Xiuxiu nodded, "The 'light moss' network of the entire solar system has been synchronized. All nodes are on standby from Earth to Pluto's orbit."
Mozi takes a deep breath and sits down at the console. He tapped his finger on the keyboard and called up Yue 'er's mathematical poem in the underground bunker. This poem is not only a work of art, but also a delicate mathematical structure - its rhythm, rhythm, and even the tone change of each word correspond to a certain basic vibration mode of the universe.
"She always said that mathematics is the poetry of the universe," Mozi muttered, "and now we're going to let the universe recite her poetry."
Xiuxiu stood behind him, hands gently on his shoulders. "She'll love it. It suits her better than any funeral."
Mozi starts typing commands. He did not directly control the flickering mode of "light moss", but uploaded the entire mathematical poem to the core algorithm of the network. This algorithm parses the mathematical structure contained in the poem and converts it into a sequence of light pulses. Just like handing a score to a perfect symphony orchestra, each "light moss" individual will play the notes of their own voice according to their position and characteristics.
At exactly three o'clock in the morning, Mozi pressed the Exec key.
The first changes happen on Earth. Seen from space, Earth's nights suddenly became brighter. But not the brightness of the city lights, but a soft, pulsating light. Mountains, forests, oceans - all the areas covered by "light moss" began to shine synchronously, and the light was like the breath of the earth, slow and deep.
Xiuxiu looked at the surveillance screen and explained softly, "They are parsing the first chapter of the poem - the part about the nature of space-time. Look at that flickering frequency, which corresponds exactly to the vibration mode of the field equation in general relativity."
Then, the "light moss" community in low-Earth orbit began to respond. These silicon-based lifeforms floating in space emit a brighter light, and they make up a complex web of light that outlines invisible mathematical structures in the dark. The astronaut sent back a report from the space station, saying that the whole earth seemed to be wrapped in a glowing cocoon, and that the light had an indescribable rhythmic beauty.
Mars is the next to respond. On the red surface of the planet, the "light moss" communities that took root in the canyon began to glow. Images returned from the orbiter show a huge luminous pattern on the surface of Mars - a chapter in the poem describing the expansion of the universe, and the diffusion of light just simulates the expansion of the early universe.
"They are using light to interpret the history of the universe." Mozi stared at the screen, his voice choking.
When the "light moss" community near Jupiter's orbit responds, it creates the most spectacular spectacle. These silicon-based organisms, adapted to the strong radiation environment, dance in front of the auroral background of Jupiter. Their light is intertwined with the natural aurora to form a complex symphony of lights. That is the chapter on quantum mechanics in poetry, and the particle nature and volatility of light are perfectly visualized at this moment.
The "light moss" in Saturn's rings is even more stunning. These tiny lifeforms move through the ice crystals, turning the entire rings of Saturn into a giant cosmic harp. Their light flows with the rotation of the ring, as if invisible fingers are plucking the strings, playing music that only the mind can hear.
The cosmic symphony was joined by the "light moss" beyond the orbit of the most distant Neptune. Their glow traveled for hours before reaching Earth, but that delay added to a strange sense of harmony. Like the echo of different voices in a symphony, the brightness in the vicinity and the faintness in the distance together weave a web of light across the entire solar system.
Mozi walks out of the control center to the open-air observatory. The night sky is completely different. The stars still twinkled, but there was a flowing rhythm of light between them. It is not only a feast of vision, but also a resonance that reaches directly to the heart.
"She used to say," Mozi said to Xiuxiu around him, "that if the universe is conscious, it must be thinking in a mathematical way. Now, the entire solar system is chanting her mathematical poems in the language of light."
Xiuxiu leaned against his shoulder and the tears slipped again. "It's her favorite farewell. There is no sorrow, no wreath, only truth dancing in the starlight."
Ten minutes of flashing into the climax section. All the "light moss" rays began to synchronize, and the entire solar system seemed to become a huge clock, and each ray was a scale on the dial. That is the final chapter of poetry - the part about unified field theory, where all the fundamental forces achieve perfect harmony at this moment.
On Earth, people are leaving their homes to look up at this unprecedented spectacle. Scientists are busy recording data, artists are trying to capture this fleeting beauty, and ordinary people are simply shocked by this magnificent scene. No one knew it was in honor of a great scientist, but everyone felt the profound meaning in it.
In the underground bunker of the String Light Institute, the mathematical poem engraved on the wall seemed to resonate faintly. The molecular vibration of the rock is mysteriously synchronized with the flickering of "light moss" hundreds of millions of kilometers away. Truth honors the discoverer in its own way.
As the ten-minute flicker drew to a close, the light began to change. From intense, tension-filled flashes to soft, soothing pulsations. Just like a grand symphony finishes slowly after the climax, every note finds its place in the right place.
At the last minute, all the "light mosses" begin to flicker at the same frequency. It was slow and light, like a lullaby when a mother puts her child to sleep. The light is softly extinguished in the night sky, as if to say: Rest in peace, Seeker, your work is done.
When the last second passed, all the "light moss" returned to their normal state. But their light seemed softer and warmer than before, as if it had gained some sublimation in this collective resonance.
The night sky returned to calm, but everyone left an indelible mark on their hearts.
Mozi was still standing on the observatory and had been reluctant to leave for a long time. "You know," he said to Xiuxiu, "in these ten minutes, I felt that she was around. Not as the dead, but as part of this light, as part of the truth."
Xiuxiu gently held his hand, "She is indeed there." As long as there were people looking up at the stars, and people asking why, she was always there.
On the distant horizon, the dawn appeared. A new day is about to begin, but the night will remain forever in the collective memory of humanity. In the years to come, the miracles of that night will be written into textbooks, made into legends, and repeatedly depicted by artists. But its true meaning is known only by a few-that is the grandest farewell the universe has ever held for a soul that understands it.
When the sun fully rises, Mozi finally turns away from the observatory. There was no sadness on his face, only deep peace. He knew that Yue 'er had returned to the place she loved most - in that endless mathematical truth, in that eternal starlight.
In the days that followed, people noticed subtle changes in the behavior of the "light moss". They repair the environment more actively and support other life forms more intelligently, as if in those ten minutes of resonance they understood a deeper mission from Yue 'er's poetry.
Xiuxiu wrote in the diary of the day: "Tonight, the universe wears a crown of starlight for an understander. There is no tombstone, because the stars are her monuments; there is no elegy, because the rhythm of truth is her Requiem."
Indeed, from that day on, whenever the night sky is clear, careful people may notice that there seems to be an unspeakable rhythm in the flickering of the stars. That may be an illusion, or it may be that the universe, in its own way, will forever miss the child who once read its secrets.