Chapter 80: Destructive Technology

Science and technology have always been a double-edged sword. If left unchecked, the more advanced a civilization’s technology becomes, the higher the probability that it will destroy its creators. According to the theory of self-destructive technology, several fields, such as synthetic biology, artificial intelligence, and self-replicating nanotechnology, all had the potential to become “black seashells.”

The scientists in the auditorium were divided on this point, and a heated debate broke out over what other technologies could trigger a civilization-ending event. Jason listened with deep interest. As the discussion evolved, it became terrifyingly clear that the list of potential black seashells was vast.

The threat encompassed almost every cutting-edge field. High-energy particle accelerators, extreme genetic modification, unrestricted cloning protocols… As any branch of science, whether biology, physics, chemistry, or information technology, delved deep enough into the fundamental laws of nature, it became exponentially more dangerous.

Even if these technologies weren’t guaranteed black seashells, they were undeniably red. They had to be handled with extreme, paranoid caution.

How did anyone ever think advancing technology was easy? Jason thought to himself, letting out a heavy sigh. One wrong step, one miscalculation in a lab, and a civilization could wipe itself out in an afternoon. Driving the Federation forward was going to be incredibly difficult.

Yet, humanity couldn’t simply stop eating out of a fear of choking. The exploration of the unknown had to continue. There was no other choice; humans were simply too physically weak to survive without advanced tools. Even knowing that these technologies could backfire catastrophically at any moment, they had to be developed and utilized.

They just had to be careful. Careful, paranoid, and utterly ruthless in their safety protocols.

Thinking of this, Jason’s heart skipped a beat. There was one more massive, terrifying black seashell sitting right in their cargo bay: the Perfect Element.

The mysterious alien compound was incredibly powerful, entirely unpredictable, and absolutely possessed the potential to cause a world-ending extinction event.

Back in the Old World, a major European superpower had accidentally leaked a microscopic amount of the Perfect Element during a classified experiment. The resulting catastrophe was almost apocalyptic.

It was an infinitesimal amount, but it was absorbed by a common strain of bacteria, which then breached containment. The Perfect Element forced the bacteria into rapid hyper-evolution, transforming them into a super-pathogen completely immune to all known antibiotics. Once a human host was infected, the mortality rate was one hundred percent.

Fortunately, the super-bacteria had only evolved extreme survivability; their reproductive and transmission vectors hadn’t improved significantly, preventing an immediate global pandemic.

Still, the government scientists were completely powerless against it. While the bacteria still adhered to the basic laws of terrestrial biology, meaning they could be killed by extreme heat, absolute zero, or industrial-grade oxidants there was no medical way to eradicate the pathogen once it was inside a human host.

To prevent a global bio-crisis, the military made a ruthless decision. They “humanely euthanized” every single infected patient. Then, they leveled the entire laboratory and the surrounding quarantine hospital to the ground, incinerating the rubble with thermobaric weapons to ensure every last spore was eradicated.

It was a highly classified black operation. Jason had only discovered the sealed files recently while organizing the Old World databases. Reading it had sent a chill down his spine; the Old World was full of dark, buried secrets.

After that incident, the Global Coalition had placed the Perfect Element under the strictest lock and key. Any experiment involving the substance required unanimous oversight and draconian monitoring.

The Perfect Element was profoundly bizarre. It acted as a catalyst for hyper-evolution, but currently, it only seemed to work on plants and single-celled organisms.

Whenever it was introduced to intelligent, multicellular animals, it immediately triggered total brain death. The biological mechanism behind this was still completely unknown. The sole exception in recorded history was Jason himself and no one, not even the brightest minds in the Federation, understood why he had survived the exposure and gained enhanced abilities.

Jason often found himself daydreaming about it. If only we could safely administer it to the general public. If everyone could survive the process, the entire crew’s intelligence and physical resilience would undergo a massive evolutionary leap.

Genetically enhanced individuals were objectively superior to standard humans. An army of fifty thousand enhanced citizens… the thought was intoxicating.

He quietly filed the idea away. He had been too buried in administrative work lately to follow up on the science. When he finally had some free time, he needed to check in with Dr. Roman’s team to see if there had been any recent breakthroughs regarding the Perfect Element.

“Alright, let’s rein this in. Back to the Great Filter theory,” Professor Hazel announced from the podium, pulling the room’s attention back to the present. “Self-destructive technology is only the second candidate.”

“There is a third, far more terrifying possibility: The Dark Forest Theory.”

Hazel adjusted her glasses, her voice dropping to a serious tenor. “In an old piece of speculative fiction, the Dark Forest Theory was described like this: The universe is a dark forest. Every civilization is an armed hunter, stalking silently through the trees like a ghost. They carefully push aside branches, terrified of making a sound, regulating their very breathing to remain undetected.”

“They must be paranoid, because the forest is full of other hunters doing the exact same thing. If a hunter spots another lifeform, there is only one logical action to take: open fire immediately and eliminate the threat.”

“In this forest, other people are hell. They are an eternal, existential threat. Any civilization that reveals its location will swiftly be annihilated. This is the true nature of cosmic civilization, and this is the ultimate answer to the Fermi Paradox.”

“Once two civilizations detect each other, only one can survive. Or neither.”

Hazel surveyed the silent room. “Therefore, all advanced civilizations remain dead silent. They curl up in the dark, terrified of making a ripple. Meanwhile, humanity like a naive, ignorant child splashes happily in the shallows, broadcasting our coordinates to the entire cosmos.”

“Between interstellar civilizations, perhaps there is no peace, no diplomacy. Only war. Countless empires may have already been erased in the dark.”

“Think about it. The Old World was destroyed by an unknown entity. And the god-like Precursors who built the Noah are nowhere to be found. It forces one to wonder: were the Precursors themselves hunted down and destroyed?”

“In my opinion, the Dark Forest Theory is the most compelling explanation we have…”

Hazel’s grim hypothesis sucked the air out of the room. The sheer weight of her logic was suffocating. It was hard to believe that a single scientist could command such a powerful, oppressive aura, silencing the entire auditorium Jason included.

The pessimists had seized absolute control of the narrative.

Jason turned his head toward the front row. Arthur was frowning deeply, his mind clearly racing. Several of the younger, more optimistic researchers were looking to Arthur, waiting for him to counter.

A few tense minutes passed. Finally, Arthur jumped back to his feet, mustering his courage.

“Professor Hazel, I believe the core foundations of the Dark Forest Theory and the Great Filter Theory are mutually exclusive. Only one can be correct.”

Arthur began pacing. “The Great Filter Theory dictates that an insurmountable barrier wipes out the vast majority of life before it reaches the stars. Therefore, interstellar civilizations must be incredibly sparse. Statistically, the galaxy should be mostly empty. This aligns with our observations.”

“However, the Dark Forest Theory relies on three fundamental premises: first, survival is the primary drive of any civilization; second, civilizations will continuously expand and consume; third, the total amount of matter and resources in the universe is finite.”

“Simply put, the Dark Forest assumes civilizations are constantly fighting brutal, life-or-death wars over territory and resources to ensure their own survival.”

“But for that theory to work, technological advancement must be relatively easy, meaning the universe should be densely packed with advanced civilizations. Only a crowded, overpopulated galaxy would necessitate desperate wars over territory.”

Arthur stopped and pointed to the podium. “The Great Filter says interstellar civilizations are incredibly rare and isolated. The Dark Forest says they are densely packed and fighting for scraps.”

“Therefore, the two theories contradict each other on a fundamental, mathematical level! Logically, I lean heavily toward the Great Filter Theory, because we actually have observational evidence to support it, the emptiness of space. The Dark Forest Theory is purely a philosophical thought experiment. Yes, there might be localized border skirmishes between aggressive alien empires, but the idea that the entire universe is locked in a silent, absolute war of extermination is highly improbable!”

The tension in the room broke as several scientists nodded in agreement. Arthur’s logic was solid. The two theories couldn’t both be true. It was like looking at human history: if a continent only had a few thousand people spread evenly across massive, resource-rich territories, why would they ever go to war? If two tribes didn’t even know each other existed, and had more food than they could eat, there was no logical reason to fight to the death.

“On a personal level, I choose to believe that interstellar civilizations are rare,” Arthur concluded, letting out a long breath. “And a species that survives long enough to master the stars shouldn’t be governed by base, barbaric paranoia. Of course, this is purely subjective. I have no proof. Perhaps there are aggressive, warlike species out there whose psychology is entirely alien to ours.”

Arthur sat down. It was impossible to entirely debunk the Dark Forest Theory because they simply didn’t have enough data. But he had successfully highlighted the critical flaw: you couldn’t believe in both the Filter and the Forest. It ultimately came down to which nightmare you found more plausible.

The majority of the scientists clearly leaned toward the Great Filter. While the Dark Forest had two chilling pieces of circumstantial evidence, the destruction of the Old World and the disappearance of the Precursors, it wasn’t definitive proof. Both events could be explained by other, non-malicious phenomena.

But the debate had successfully shaken Jason out of his administrative complacency.

The Federation had to prepare for an interstellar war.

If a conflict broke out, it wouldn’t be a localized human border dispute. It would be an absolute, zero-sum war of extermination against an alien intelligence. There would be no treaties, no compromise, and no surrender.

Their current arsenal was pathetic. They needed heavier weapons. They needed to immediately prioritize the development of high-yield ship-to-ship lasers, railgun batteries, and massive thermonuclear warheads!

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