The solar system is broken

The launch went smoothly, but rocket debris was found 100km away.

It's 400 meters away from the target. How do you say this result?

According to the current industrial sector, it is very good and even a little overfulfilled.

At the beginning of the design, the estimated deviation of this rocket was more than 1km, but now it has been halved.

But it's not very good either.

Compared with the 90km rocket of Blue Star, the deviation is 40~60 meters, which is an order of magnitude worse.

However, there is nothing that can be done about it. After all, the city-state has not even developed a decent positioning system, so it is completely a blind sniper.

The deviation of 400 meters is quite far from actual combat.

After all, apart from nuclear warheads, the killing radius of ordinary missiles is only tens to hundreds of meters. This rocket can only carry 10,000-ton nuclear bombs to have a chance of actual combat.

However, the nuclear industry is too dangerous, and the research institute has uranium mines, so there is no time to conduct experiments.

This N1 rocket can be regarded as a failed experiment, but this rocket is not without achievements. At least it provides first-hand information.

The writer also asked Dura about the expected actual combat time of weapons, and Dura's response was that it would be at least ten years.

Then this war is of no use.

The follow-up data analysis of rockets is boring, especially in an era without large-scale integrated circuits.

The writer did not stay too long in the industrial area and quickly left Moss and got on the train back to the city.

When he got home, Huo Shan called him and set the departure time in the early morning of September 1st.

Then the writer, who had been tired for a long day, slept on the sofa on the first floor all afternoon.

In the evening, I was woken up by a basin of cold water.

A carp stood up from the sofa.

Then I saw an angry Han Ling'er, pulling a wet Xiao Li, standing in front of the writer.

Xiao Li Aqie~Aqie kept sneezing and sneezing, his little face flushed.

The maid outfit was completely soaked by the rain, and the clothes inside were vaguely...

The writer then remembered that he had left Xiao Li alone at the General Administration of Customs.

It turned out that there was no way to wait for a writer at the General Administration of Customs, and some people couldn’t use the office phone number, so they had to remember to call around at the General Administration of Customs.

Finally, in the rain, we took the train back to Baoquanshan Apartment.

"Doesn't your conscience hurt?"

The writer lowered his ears and did not dare to speak loudly, "I...forgot. I'm sorry."

That night, the writer was busy making ginger soup for Xiao Li in the kitchen for a long time.

After Xiao Li fell asleep, the writer gently covered him with a quilt and exited the room.

Standing on the balcony to get some fresh air and looking at the magnificent lights of the two mountains, the writer let out a long sigh.

The shallow river water, quietly like a ribbon, wraps around Baoquan Mountain and Zishan Mountain.

The tall church stood overlooking the river without saying a word.

"You want to leave?"

Han Ling'er emerged from behind the curtain, wearing thin pajamas, and the evening breeze blew his dark gauze clothes.

The curves and curves of the figure are revealed in the ups and downs.

So big. But a bit fierce.

"Well," looking at the dark night sky, "this world cannot leave a free soul like me."

"Speak humanly!"

"I was placed in Huoshan's army by Moss and went out with the army."

The writer looked at the distant lights and felt wet in his heart.

After a month of peaceful life, we were about to separate.

"How soon will you be back?" Han Ling'er leaned against the door frame and was silent for a moment.

"have no idea."

Although the war has a high chance of winning, it is not that easy.

The wind blew gently, and the writer's hair curled up.

Coldly, like fingers, stroking the young man's face.

"Help me take good care of Xiao Li." The writer took out three checks from his pocket, two for 20,000 and one for 2.40,000.

Good guy, 6.5w (don’t ask, you just can’t hit 6:4), this is considered a petty bourgeoisie level, just carry it on you.

"I'm a little touched," Han Ling'er grabbed the check and was stunned at how much money it was.

"When are you leaving?"

"tomorrow."

"You want to see that woman?"

"woman?"

"Hmph~" snorted coldly. "There's more than one?"

"What?"

"Nothing?" Han Ling'er curled her lips and left.

However, halfway through, he suddenly turned around and gently called out, "Be careful."

Her voice was very gentle, a little unlike the usual Han Ling'er.

The writer was surprised. Just as he was about to make fun of her, Han Linger disappeared behind the curtain.

I touched my head and couldn't understand these women. They were very complicated.

The stars are dotted and the tall branches are ostentatious.

The scenery is beautiful...

When Han Linger got up the next day, the writer had already left.

Xiao Li covered her red face, gently supported the wall, and entered the writer's room.

"Master, you don't want me anymore~"

"..."

"Scumbag!" he complained softly.

...

Ache!

The writer rubbed his nose, who was scolding me?

The train station in the early morning was deserted, with small suspended water droplets still floating in it, and thick fog filling the air.

In the north in autumn, the temperature is very low.

The writer tightened his shirt and twitched his nose.

Wearing a dark suit, he held a small suitcase containing seasonal clothes.

In his hand was a civilized stick, about 1 meter in diameter, with a gun inside.

"That's sloppy."

So cold.

The train hasn't arrived yet, and there's almost no one on the platform.

The writer raised his hand and looked at his watch. The hands were slowly pointing to 30.

It's 6:30, almost there.

Dudu~

The whistle flew from far away from the gaps in the mountains.

Bangdang` Bangdang~

The black front of the car slowly emerged from the clouds and mist, as if slowly emerging from a wall of clouds.

"Gu~" The train slowly rolled over the rails and stopped slowly.

"Steam~"

A burst of white smoke came out of the front of the car and it stopped steadily on the platform.

A young train driver jumped off the front of the train and communicated with the platform workers who were carrying the goods.

The writer suddenly realized that the person sitting in that seat was no longer old Ivan.

Such a long life will also perish in an instant.

Gone.

During the 40-minute drive, the writer dozed off.

When he woke up, the sun shone on his face, caressing his face softly.

The car quickly passed through the shadows and lights, and flashes flashed across the writer's face, just like these things fading away quickly.

When the train stopped, the writer staggered down from the train.

The endless shadows of people on the street made the writer feel confused for a while.

The writer pressed his chest and stood on the street for a long time before he came back to his senses.

"What is this?" The writer shook his head.

A special electric sound kept flowing in his ears.

He was sure that this was not a perception, but an intuition.

It's like a feeling in the soul that doesn't belong to this world.

The writer was dripping with cold sweat, pressing the stick of civilization and standing for a long time.

I don't know how long it took for that feeling to subside.

The sun rises high, one sun, it is very bright today.

The writer exhaled a long breath, calmed down, and was done.

"Are you sick?"

But it's a little different.

"Dingling bell~" The bicycle bell jingles loudly.

Men and women walked together on the street, and the steaming buns were freshly baked.

The tram in the distance slowly passed through the street.

The children jumped together and laughed through the dense crowd.

The bustling streets are so normal and harmonious.

The writer straightened up and continued walking forward.

There are few things going on today, and the writer can go and take a look around.

It’s been a month since I’ve been able to get around the whole city properly.

From the Luanhe Bridge, we walked past the newly rebuilt municipal building. The two buildings were still in ruins. The entire square was randomly filled with sand and soil, and the patches were obvious.

Continue forward and walk deeper into the old city.

About 200 meters away, enter the Civic Square.

The square is an ellipse, with two huge fountains placed at the center, both in the shape of fireworks.

In the center of the oval, two fountains cover a magnificent equestrian statue.

The statue is made of bronze. It shows a majestic man holding a huge sword in his hand and looking south.

The horse soared into the air and trampled on the tired corpses, making a neighing sound.

This person is none other than the first base leader, Porvoo.

This sculpture represents the Battle of the Meander of the River. The city-state defeated the merchant army for the first time, and the city-state at that time received great encouragement.

The tall horse gives people an extremely powerful sense of oppression.

This sculpture was made by a famous artist and is of extraordinary boldness. It looks a bit like ancient Roman sculpture, with no eyes.

There is a huge church here, and the church door is open.

The choir is singing hymns to the gods.

The writer was not interested and headed slowly towards the theater.

After leaving the grand Civic Square and entering the small streets, the situation immediately changed.

The streets are narrow.

Next to the two streets are leather shoe shops, bakeries, and some tailor shops.

There were only a few people there, probably because it was a working day, so there weren't many people there.

The laid-back shopkeeper sat behind the counter and dozed listlessly. The little shoe boy held a piece of deerskin and gently wiped the dust on his leather shoes.

The writer walked slowly, neither too hastily nor too slowly, feeling inexplicably at peace in his heart.

A winding street turned a corner, but I heard a lot of noise ahead.