First, there are a few indistinct silhouettes. Soon, a dazzling light. Gradually, the light grows distant and rises to the sky, leaving behind bright blotches. Not long after, these points of light themselves speed far away, and all that remains is a meaningless, jet black. You remember those blotches are celestial bodies, every one. You remember the home of the stars is called the cosmos. Then immediately, your sight abruptly grows clear. Sleek metal. A sealed room. A clear window forms your third eye—through the window, you gaze at a colossal grey sphere, and in the center of that megastructure no normal mind could comprehend, it quietly awaits its birth father... You suddenly feel a kind of movement. A fluid wets your vision. You begin to seek this emotion's root. You see a child's birth. It is your child. A brand new fate, a soul entrusted... But against that yawning megastructure, how insignificant a life of such miniscule proportions it is. You return to the now, and gaze at those engineering ships, big and small. You, the mathematician, quickly make a ridiculous comparison—even the smallest ship among them is thousands of times larger than an infant of mankind. But you have all done it. Starting from the antiquity of antiquity, starting with fire or a hunt, you have come all the way to today. You are immensely proud. By some mysterious mechanism, you feel this pride as if it is yours, upon which more information pours into your mind. You remember your own identity. You realize that you are the designer of that artificial satellite. And after such a long journey in subspace, you finally greet the moment of its completion with your very own eyes. Honor, wealth, family, ideals... such vocabulary flickers elusive, hovers, dissipates, and in the end there is left one, and only one... ... ... 'Future...' 'What? What did you see?' '...' 'Hey, respond! Hey!' All present lapse into silence. A young woman to the side wells with urgency. 'Examine his brain! I told you we shouldn't have been so hasty! We only just set up protocol channels to database comms! This is only our first recorded successful transmission!' '...I'm sorry.' 'Wait. What are you saying?' 'I mean... I never used to be too fond of you planetary engineers. I always felt your work was all style, no substance... but I saw it. I saw your past, I shared in your past. I felt your emotions. It was... like nothing else.' 'You...' 'Yes. I felt you reminisce, like an ordinary father, about your children and your home. I saw that artificial moon, astonishing as anything. And the sensation, it's beyond all imagination... We've done it.' Once again, everyone is silent. 'So...' The one to break the silence is a fairly young, red-haired lady. 'How will it record our epoch, and the epochs to come?' 'As an omnibus of idiocy, I assume,' someone responds thoughtlessly. 'We've had quite enough ourselves, but from here on out, none of them will ever find another excuse to embellish history.' 'Have a little more faith in mankind, friends,' says another, elderly, who simply sits down and shuffles herself into a comfortable position. 'We've drawn enough lessons already. Our progeny won't be repeating our blunders.' Some chuckle bitterly. It is, of course, no more than a beautiful wish. '...So we've definitely succeeded? Project DWDB-221E has borne fruit so quickly... My god.' With no warning, a curly-haired person springs to his feet. 'Are we always going to call it DWDB-221E? I know, project numbering follows regulation format. Cold, cold nomenclature, just like with AMa... But our work <i>deserves</i> a more dignified official name!' Once again, he throws out the proposal he hadn't relented on for more than half the year now. 'I want to call it... 'Destiny'! Or maybe 'Truth of the World'?' The ensuing silence is now an awkward one. 'How about the 'Black Crown'? In terms of an intuitive visual impression of parts of its appearance, it does resemble a crown, after all.' 'Eh, not a fan. That one sounds like some boring historical drama.' 'In that case...' The elderly woman interrupts her subordinates before they embroil themselves in yet another endless dispute. She gazes out at the stars beyond the window. Some unwelcome information is arriving, but humanity will ultimately overcome this hardship, just as it has countless times before. 'I have a proposal...' 'We should call it—'Civilight Eterna'.'