Five years later.

A seven-year-old girl who had woken just minutes ago was rolling on her bed, waiting for breakfast to arrive. Her waist-length amber hair loosely wrapped around her as she twirled.

Her bedroom, about the size of ten queen mattresses, had four walls, one of which was completely transparent, the other three dark.

The girl, now bored of rolling around, tightly hugged one of her pillows and stared joyously outside at the enormous planet before her. Surrounding the planet was a background filled with countless stars in an otherwise black void.

At the very moment, besides breakfast, there was only one other thing in her mind.

Just one more day.

In twenty hours, step three of the process will finally take place.

Step three: Infiltration. Tomorrow, she will land on her assigned planet—Planet Eyne.

Swsh.

The sound of her automatic sliding door. Entering her room was a robot covered in cute stickers carrying her breakfast. With her eyes narrowed, the girl peered at the robot in an attempt to discern the culture of her meal. Then her eyes lit up.

“Ah! American-style today.”

On the plate was an assortment of eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, hash browns, pancakes, and toast. At the sides were utensils, butter, strawberry jam, and a glass of orange juice.

When the robot approached her side, a self-building overbed table rose quickly from beneath the floor and assembled itself in front of her. After slipping her legs underneath, the robot elegantly placed the tray holding her meal, magnetically attaching it with the table.

Seeing her favorite breakfast in front of her and being close enough to feel its warmth, she almost gave voice to her delight. Of course, she remembered her manners. After all, courtesy was part of her training.

“Thank you, Punyao!”

“Praise received. You’re welcome.”

 

Punyao (friend in Chinese).

It was the name she gave to her personal attendant—a bipedal, boxy, friendly-looking robot with an androgynous voice. Over the years, the girl had covered Punyao in stickers with legacy characters from Hellσ Kittƴ, Hɑmtarσ, Fυllmetɑl Alchƹmist, Gɑrƒield, Tokƴσ Mƹw Mƹw, δpider-Mɑn, etc. After having discovered them from digging through ancient archives, the unique designs had made their way into her heart.

As she elegantly indulged her breakfast, her attendant waited near the door for further orders while keenly observing her. Twenty-three minutes later—

“Done.”

—nothing edible remained on the tray. Utensils and wrappers were left in a well-ordered manner. At the girl’s confirmation, Punyao approached the side of her bed, and after a moment of judgement, spoke.

“Excellent.”

After her attendant took the tray, the overbed table disassembled itself and returned to the floor. Energized from her meal, the girl was ready to continue today’s itinerary.

“So, what’s next?”

“In fifteen minutes, take the ‘Nature Route’ for five kilometers.”

“Okay.”

Nature Route. A picturesque path that imitated a natural trail. With an artificial sky, climate, and seasonal rotation of trees, bushes, flowers, grass, and soil, one could only assume that they were on a genuine planet.

However, in actuality, everything on this trail was manufactured and arranged by machines. That is, the entire experience was counterfeit. But it didn’t matter, because it was designed to be better than the real thing.

Within three minutes, the girl had changed into her running clothes. With seven minutes remaining, she was stretching at the route’s starting point. Her task was to sprint five kilometers within twenty-five minutes. Of course, she knew all too well what would happen if she didn’t.

But after years of repeating this task, it had become too easy. Punyao was waiting for her at the end point.

“Excellent; task completed in twenty-three minutes.”

“What’s next, archery?”

“Yes, in thirty minutes.”

In a domain that shared the same sky and lush greenery as the Nature Route, there was an archery range with a single moving target. Her task was to hit the bullseye ten times while adjusting for varying artificial windspeeds—without a single miss.

Perhaps due to her excitement, the tasks today seemed easier than usual. But no. The truth was that she found them easier because those tasks had been a part of her training for the past four years, and that today, she felt like trying.

“Perfect; task completed with ten inner bullseyes.”

“Combat in thirty minutes, right?”

“Yes.”

Combat training. In an area with three different terrains consisting of soil, pavement, and marsh, her task was to parry with a humanoid robot on each of those grounds. She must dodge or defend against all of its attacks for five minutes, and then afterwards, within another five minutes, land an attack strong enough to fracture a femur.

For her, this was one of the more thrilling tasks as it demanded both physical and mental prowess. She progressively became adept at wielding a variety of weapons such as axes, swords, and spears, with differing sizes and weights.

Over the years, this task had steadily increased in difficulty. If she were to get hurt today, her mission on Eyne would need to be postponed as she would likely be incapacitated for a week. But she knew this already.

“Excellent; task completed without injury.”

“Yay! Let me skip studying today.”

“Denied. Five hours until dinner.”

In other words, she had to study for five hours. The topics? Anything related to the planet she would land on tomorrow—Planet Eyne. In fact, almost all of her tasks were designed based on Inspection data.

And ‘study’ was really just a blanket term for practicing Eynen culture, etiquette, customs, etc., because she had already essentially memorized all of the data. All that remained was to physically practice them so that when she landed on Eyne, she wouldn’t seem out of place.

 

So, is she superhuman? To put it simply: no.

Humanity is currently a type II civilization capable of harvesting power from entire stars. The technology they had was of the sort that lower-tier civilizations deemed as miraculous. That is, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it belonged in the realm of wishes.

And the girl—Cerelious—was a Founder class with an S- (S-minus) authority.

Yes—she had most of humanity’s cutting-edge technologies at her fingertips.

But what, exactly, did she have? And, what could she do with them? Technology practice was scheduled to take place after dinner.

 

Six hours later.

Cerelious had finished her Japanese dinner.

The artificial sky became fiery orange to simulate a sunset.

Nine hours remained until step three—Infiltration.

 

She was now standing in a large, open bucolic area with Punyao next to her, ready for the final task.

“Commence materialization practice. Item 1: Royal Eynen pen.”

At Punyao’s instruction, Cerelious spoke (in her mind) a command:

[Command — ‘Materialize: pen’ ⟝ operation commencing]

She positioned her fingers as if she were holding a pen and sifted through her memories for an image of one used by Eynen royals.

[materialization complete.]

And in her hand was the pen that she had imagined, assembled by an uncountable number of nanomachines.

“Continuing materialization practice. Item 2: Royal Eynen teacup.”

Cerelious gave another command (in her mind).

[Command — ‘Materialize: teacup’ ⟝ operation commencing]

This time, she positioned her fingers as if she were holding a teacup’s handle and imagined a teacup used by Eynen royals.

[materialization complete.]

 

After eight more items, practice was complete. As long as the required materials and conditions were met, any item could be crafted.

However, intelligent life cannot be crafted due to their complexity. Also, items that are too large cannot be crafted due to the immense amount of processing.

Now, that wasn’t her only power technology. In her left temple was an implanted microchip that let her communicate with nanomachines—that was how she made commands. Also, her microchip recorded everything and assisted in calculations, essentially granting her perfect memory and superior cognitive ability.

 

So, at this point, one might ask, is she a genius? To put it simply: no.

A genius is someone who is beyond their time. Cerelious, however, was not—she was merely someone with a lot of knowledge. A lot.

 

Then perhaps another question: Is she spoiled? Maybe.

Founder class. S- authority. Scion-type. Humanity’s utmost cutting-edge technology at her fingertips.

Certainly, she was at least privileged—but.

Cerelious had never asked for any of this.

In the first place, why was she on the list of special candidates? Why did she have nearly maximum authority? The answer was…

—Inheritance. She was a scion. Her parents, leaders of humanity’s space exploration group, had given her their bequest. And her parents themselves, had passed away before she could recognize their faces.

And so, living alone with a robotic attendant on an enormous spacecraft, she trained. And trained. Five years. A child who never had a choice.

 

Meanwhile.

Most of humanity was living the dream.

Most of humanity had become spoiled.

And with only a single wish remaining, to wish had become equivalent to know.

 

But wait.

Would you believe me if I said one other wish existed?

A wish not for knowledge, but one for human connection.

 

Forget infiltration! That’s priority number two! No, priority one… hundred!

Using this mission to her advantage, she no longer needed to wish, for her wish had turned into hope. And it was going to come true in—

Just one more hour.