Chapter 342: International Science and Technology Award Presentation: The Declaration of Human Civilization 2.0

Sunlight shines on Zhao Jianguo's face, a bit dazzling.

He raised his hand to shield the glare, squinting as he walked forward. The phone in his pocket was still warm, having just hung up the call with the Ministry of Agriculture, which said the matter with Zhao Chen was settled and further coordination would be handled directly by them. He said little, only replying, "Alright, I'll finish this task first."

At the doorway stood two protocol officers in dark blue uniforms, silver badges on their chests; when they saw him approach, they both nodded, "Mr. Zhao, your family has arrived, waiting for you in the VIP Passage."

Zhao Jianguo nodded and followed inside. Underfoot was a thick red carpet, soft under his steps, unlike the hard floor tiles of the Science and Technology Center lobby. He looked down at his shoe tips; the gray cloth shoes were quite polished, having been scrubbed by his wife the previous night while muttering, "These make you look spirited; don't wear those leather shoes, they hurt the feet and aren't sturdy."

He didn't argue, just tightened his shoelaces again.

Passing through two glass doors, voices rose inside. Not noisy, but a buzzing, slightly amused bustle. Some were laughing, some greeting softly, and a child tugged an adult's sleeve asking, "Dad, why hasn't that big screen lit up yet?"

Zhao Jianguo looked up following the voice and saw a holographic screen hanging straight ahead, towering about three stories high, dark like a clean large mirror. Below the screen stood several rows of staff in suits, holding tablets, occasionally glancing down and then looking back up at the screen, their expressions steady.

He turned left and saw his family's old Hongqi car parked beside the side door. The door was open, his wife was helping the little daughter out, and his son, with a canvas bag on his back, stood by the car, looking up at the big screen while chewing candy.

"Dad!" the son twisted his head upon seeing him, immediately ran over, stuffing the candy wrapper into his pocket, "You finally made it! Mom said you probably bought roasted sweet potatoes halfway there again."

"Didn't buy it," Zhao Jianguo patted his shoulder, "No sweets today; later when we go on stage to receive the award, a sweet mouth makes it easy to laugh out of turn."

The son giggled, reaching to feel his pocket, "What about the red envelope? I kept it for you."

"Red envelope?" Zhao Jianguo stepped aside, "Do you think this is a Siheyuan New Year gift? This is the International Science and Technology Award; they don't give red envelopes, they give certificates."

"Can the certificate be exchanged for candy?"

"It can exchange for half your allowance next month."

The son immediately withdrew his hand, turned and ran to the car side, "Mom! My dad threatened me!"

His wife looked up, laughed and spat, "Enough, hurry in, the front row seats are saved for you."

Zhao Jianguo followed, the three of them walking side by side. The little daughter held his right hand; her palm was a bit sweaty, but she gripped tightly. He glanced down at her; she tilted her face upward, eyes sparkling, saying nothing, just smiling brightly.

Entering the main hall, the lights were dimmed a bit, and a faint scent of cedar floated in the air, like fresh incense. The front row seats were already covered with deep red velvet, and a small white flower was pinned to each chair back, its petals still dotted with droplets.

He sat down; his wife lifted the little daughter onto his lap, the son pulled a chair himself and sat next to Zhao Jianguo, and as soon as his bottom touched the seat, he reached for the small bottle of mineral water placed on the table.

"Don't twist it," Zhao Jianguo pressed his wrist, "When we take photos later, wet hands don't look good."

"Who wants to see my hand?" the son muttered, still pulling his hand back, turning his head to look at the big screen.

At this moment, the venue lights dimmed further, leaving only a single white beam shining down on the stage center. Within the light stood a door—not a real door, but a metal frame with a semi‑transparent panel, identical to the one in the Science and Technology Center, only smaller and brighter, its border inlaid with a thin gold line.

Zhao Jianguo stared at that door without blinking.

It was silent, no sound, no blue glow. Yet he remembered clearly that half an hour ago, that thing had devoured the Triplets' energy, then, as if sated, vanished silently. Now it was here again, clean and still, as if it had never moved.

He said nothing, merely placed his left hand on his knee, his thumb lightly brushing the base of his index finger—where it had been burned during yesterday's sign‑in, now leaving only a faint mark.

"Distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen—" a deep baritone with a slight rolled‑R foreign accent rang out from the stage, "Welcome to the 23rd International Science and Technology Award ceremony."

Applause rose, unhurried, like a tide pushing forward.

Zhao Jianguo clapped a few times, his hands not raised high, his motions small. Out of the corner of his eye he saw on the left a foreigner wearing tortoiseshell glasses, looking down at his watch; on the right sat a lady in a cheongsam, her hand on her knee, nail polish a light pink, fingertips slightly pale.

The big screen lit up.

There was no transition, no animation; in a flash it lit up. A snow‑white background, black large characters, filling the whole frame:

**Human Civilization 2.0**

The characters weren't large, but they carried weight. Beneath them a line of smaller text read: **'Technology as foundation, humanity as core, ushering a new era of co‑evolution.'**

Applause rose again, louder than before. Some stood, some raised phones to photograph, and others tiptoed to look up at the stage.

Zhao Jianguo remained still, his gaze shifting from the text to that door.

At the door frame's edge, a very faint blue light flickered, then vanished. Another flash, then gone. Like breathing, like a heartbeat.

He told no one.

The international guest on stage began speaking, in Mandarin, clear and articulate, occasionally inserting a few English terms, while the translation earpieces below simultaneously broadcast the meaning. He spoke of how the Neural Repair Instrument could rewrite rehabilitation medicine, how Salt‑Alkali Tolerant Crops could revitalize coastal wastelands, and how the Youth Science and Technology League was moving laboratories into classrooms…

Zhao Jianguo listened, nodded, a slight smile still at the corner of his mouth.

But in his ears, it was all that door's blue light.

It flickered increasingly densely.

He quietly slipped his right hand into his pocket, feeling his phone. The screen was black, no vibration, no notification. The system was silent, not even a pop‑up.

He exhaled, then felt a bit stifled.

At this moment, the guest reached a climax, his voice rising, "... so we have reason to believe that Human Civilization 2.0 is not a slogan, but a reality unfolding right now!"

When his words fell, the characters on the big screen began to move.

It wasn't scrolling, not switching, but "stretching"—like ink droplets diffusing in water, the black font's edges slowly blurring, thickening, darkening, then the entire screen jolted sharply.

Zhao Jianguo's eyelid twitched.

That door's blue light flared suddenly, so bright it made eyes unable to open.

The big screen image tore.

It wasn't a black screen, nor static; it was a horizontal, straight crack, spanning left to right, with a "crack" sound, like glass being sliced. Through the fissure seeped black, a bottomless darkness. Immediately, white, stark, unpunctuated lines of text rose from the black:

**Human Civilization 3.0 loading…**

**Progress: 17%**

The whole venue fell silent.

It wasn't absolute silence, but the kind where everyone inhaled together yet dared not exhale. A mineral water bottle tipped, spilling water, yet no one looked down. A child tried to cry, but the mother covered his mouth; only two guttural sounds could be heard from his throat.

Zhao Jianguo didn't move.

He saw the foreigner with tortoiseshell glasses on the left suddenly lift his head, his fingers gripping the chair back tightly; the lady in the cheongsam on the right slowly sat upright, her hand rising from her knee, hovering in mid‑air, not descending.

The guest on stage paused briefly, his smile intact but his lips tightened further. He didn't look at the screen, continuing into the microphone, "... of course, every technological evolution comes with testing and optimization. That is precisely why we gather today."

Staff hurried onto the stage from both sides, some approaching the Control Console, others crouching to inspect cable interfaces. A young man in a gray shirt raised his walkie‑talkie, opened his mouth to say something, but his voice was too soft to be heard.

The characters on the big screen kept jumping:

**Progress: 23%**

**Handshake request for cross‑dimensional protocol detected…**

Zhao Jianguo heard his own heartbeat, thump, thump, thump.

His left hand still rested on his knee, his right hand remained in his pants pocket. He didn't pull out his phone, nor lift his head to look at the ceiling light; he only tucked the little girl into his wife's embrace and whispered, "Don't be scared, it's not our turn yet."

His wife didn't answer, just held the child tighter.

The son tilted his head and looked at him: "Dad, what does that word mean?"

Zhao Jianguo didn't look at him, his eyes still fixed on the Screen: "It means we just got our 2.0 work badges, and they've already installed the 3.0 attendance machine."

The son blinked: "Are we still clocking in?"

"Clock in." Zhao Jianguo finally turned his head, smiled at him, and said, "But we need to ask first whether the new system recognizes us old employees."

At that moment, the big screen suddenly went dark, then lit up again, returning to the original "Human Civilization 2.0," the font unchanged. It was as if the past ten or so seconds had just been a brief dream everyone shared.

The host walked onto the stage, voice booming: "Thank you all for your patience! Just now was a temporary system calibration; it's now back to normal. Next, please welcome the winner of this year's International Science and Technology Award's highest honor—Mr. Zhao Jianguo!"

Applause exploded.

Zhao Jianguo didn't stand up.

He sat there, looking at that door.

The blue light on the door frame went out completely.

But his palm began to go numb again.

It was as if an extremely thin Electric Wire were drilling in from there.