Chapter 31: The Lunar Society

“The Lunar Society? What’s wrong?” It had been so long since Jason had heard the name that it took him a moment to recall what it was.

Austin was a few years older than Jason, just past thirty. He was the eldest among the special forces team and held more traditional views. He believed that an organization like the Lunar Society, with its large numbers and growing influence, needed to be regulated or disbanded if control proved impossible.

This situation reflected their initial inexperience in governance. The Lunar Society had been founded by Calvin, originally intended to spread his mystical “Earth’s Destruction, Son of God” prophecy. Now that Calvin was behind bars and the organization wasn’t promoting anything subversive, the administration hadn’t taken it seriously.

But now, membership was exploding: one thousand, two thousand, five thousand… soon it would hit ten thousand. Austin, responsible for base security, finally felt something was wrong. The more people involved, the greater the influence. If it coalesced into a political faction, it could potentially challenge the current administration.

He had conducted a covert investigation and was slightly relieved. The organization was incredibly loose. It was essentially just a massive chat group on the base’s intranet.

The telecommunications infrastructure was surprisingly robust. Although Earth was gone, the local servers on the Moon were intact, and the messaging apps were still functional.

It was that simple. There were no physical meetings, no rituals, just online chatter. Forming a coherent political force seemed impossible in the short term.

But Austin remained uneasy. He sent undercover agents into the chat rooms to monitor the discourse, and his unease morphed into something stranger. The people inside were engaged in fervent personality worship. And the object of their worship was their captain, Jason.

“Take a look at this web novel,” Austin said, forwarding a file to Jason’s tablet. “I don’t know who wrote it, but it’s titled Under the Starry Sky and is currently being serialized.”

Jason opened the file. The story described the last survivors of humanity struggling on the Moon after Earth’s destruction, only to rise powerfully under the protagonist’s leadership. The writing was amateurish—pure melodrama—but given the current circumstances, it had struck a chord. It didn’t help that the protagonist bore a striking resemblance to Jason himself.

Consequently, more and more people were falling into a state of hero worship, believing that Jason would lead humanity to a god-tier civilization, just like the story’s protagonist.

Jason was dumbfounded. What was all this? It was baffling, and he had zero experience dealing with cults of personality.

“Captain, look. It’s working hours now, so the chat is quiet. But once evening hits, there’s a flood of messages from both men and women.” Austin paused, looking uncomfortable. “How do I put this… prayers, blessings… and even matchmaking attempts. Sigh, I don’t know what to say.”

“On one hand, these people are your staunchest supporters, which stabilizes your governance. They’ll implement your orders without question. But this behavior is excessive… I feel vaguely uneasy about it, but I can’t quite put my finger on why.”

Austin frowned. He was a pure soldier; deep sociological analysis wasn’t his major.

Jason pondered for a moment, then spoke slowly. “If what you’re saying is true, they’ve deified me. They believe I’m perfect, that everything I do is right, and they won’t tolerate opposition. This will inevitably cause division and conflict with those who don’t share their view.”

“Moreover, if I make a mistake in the future and shatter that image of perfection, it could trigger a collapse of faith. That backlash would be catastrophic.”

“You’re right, Captain, you hit the nail on the head!” Austin said with relief. “So, how about we just shut down the chat group?”

“That won’t work. It’s too heavy-handed,” Jason said, rubbing his temples. “Besides, it only treats the symptom, not the root cause. I don’t want to be a supreme leader where one person makes all the decisions, nor do I want to establish a dictatorship.”

“We must find a solution, and it needs to be… gentler.”

Both racked their brains. Austin came up empty, leaving Jason to brood in frustration.

Jason felt that a certain level of respect for leadership was healthy; it was necessary for the chain of command. But when it escalated to worship, it became dangerous.

The universe was vast and unforgiving. Humanity could face extinction at any moment. They needed the collective wisdom of the entire species to survive. If this trend continued, no one would dare to question him. He would be making all decisions in a vacuum. How could there be collective wisdom then?

Even the wisest person makes mistakes, and even a fool can stumble upon a brilliant idea. A dictatorship was a dead end. Jason didn’t believe for a second that he alone could navigate humanity through the stars.

However, the roots of this worship were complex. Sociologically speaking, the reversion to a small-scale, survivalist economy often led to a desire for centralized authority.

Karl Marx once noted that small producers cannot represent themselves; they must be represented. Their representative must appear as their master, an authority high above them, protecting them from the elements and bestowing rain and sunshine from above.

To be honest, the political system in the base wasn’t much different from a monarchy. Most decisions were made by Jason. He held the military, the resources, and the law in his hands.

Take Project Noah, for example. Although the plans were drafted by scientists, they needed Jason’s approval to proceed. Daily work schedules, rations, housing assignments, everything ultimately flowed through him. He held absolute power.

With such power concentrated in one man, the emergence of a personality cult was almost inevitable.

In reality, Jason wasn’t keen on power at all. It didn’t make him feel superior; it just made him tired. He wished he could share the burden.

But there was no one to take over. The career politicians and bureaucrats had been wiped out by Calvin, and the remaining ones had been purged during the rumormongering incident. He couldn’t distribute power to incompetent people. As for the top scientists and engineers, they were hyper-focused on their fields and had zero interest in administration.

He couldn’t just promote a random worker, either. Who would respect their authority? It would cause chaos. So, he had to shoulder everything himself, at least until Project Noah was complete.

Of course, even if a new political system were established, he couldn’t completely abandon power. He felt a deep responsibility toward humanity, and frankly, he didn’t trust anyone else to do a better job right now. In such a critical moment, where the entire race could be wiped out, full democratization, with its endless debates and infighting would be suicide.

“To solve this problem, we must establish a more suitable political system and a robust economic model,” Jason said earnestly.

“Huh? Why?” Austin asked, puzzled. “How did we get from a chat group to politics and economics?”

“You need to read more books, Austin,” Jason explained with a smile. Austin finally nodded, understanding a little.

“If we hold an election, Captain, you’d win in a landslide. That’s not a problem. If it were anyone else, the military wouldn’t agree! But at this critical juncture, we can’t implement radical reform. People are holding on by a thread; if we rock the boat now, that thread will snap,” Austin argued, shaking his head.

“Economic reform won’t work either. Wouldn’t that just add to the chaos?”

“Then what should we do?” Austin pondered, unable to come up with a solution other than banning the group.

“Sigh, let me think…” Jason didn’t have a silver bullet, so he started improvising. “First, have your team infiltrate that group. Form a sub-clique, stick together, and try to guide the conversation rationally.”

“Then, find the author of that novel. Ask him to write the protagonist a bit more realistically, more human. Maybe have him steal a few chicken legs when he’s hungry, or flirt with a couple of girls… make him flawed. That should help ground their expectations, right?”

“Understood!” Austin saluted. “But if the writing quality drops, won’t some people abandon the story?”

“If they abandon it, haven’t we achieved our goal? Also, initiate more matchmaking activities in the group. We need to boost the population.”

“Alright… Captain, you’re… resourceful.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep