The solar system is broken

"Do you know what that woman is studying?"

The woman Lin Ying was talking about was naturally Jiang Che.

To be honest, the writer doesn't know much about his sister's job. When he was still in California, USA, Jiang Che was a space remote communication monitor, but he resigned not long after.

The writer knew almost nothing about his subsequent work. The only job he remembered was that when he went to Columbia for vacation when he was 18 years old, Jiang Che was working in a microelectronics research institute.

Normally, the two siblings have little contact, so this time Jiang Che met with Hua Xia, he was a little surprised.

"Nuclear Physics."

The writer was stunned.

I thought it was some fancy thing, but it turned out to be that old-fashioned invention.

In fact, except for military use, nuclear physics is basically a decoration. Except for the country of the sun, other countries have also suffered from nuclear power plant leaks.

With the current level of physics, the requirements for making a nuclear bomb are actually not very high. Even if it is not to the point where a technical school student can rub a nuclear bomb with his hands, it is not far off.

"real?"

"real!"

The writer didn't believe it.

Jiang Che is actually very knowledgeable. She is proficient in space physics and human applied biology, and she also has in-depth research on computers.

But as for nuclear physics, it seems to have nothing to do with her.

"Do you know Wrangler?" Lin Ying raised her eyelids, a glimmer of light flashed through her eyes, and the drunkenness dissipated in an instant.

"Wrangler? What is it?"

"Your sister never told you?"

"Sister?" Sure enough, this woman already knew who she was, "Then what is it?"

"This is the first time someone has called me sister." He touched his cheek, which was red and warm.

Writer: Your focus seems to be wrong.

“What is a Wrangler?”

"It's best that you never know what this is!" It's murderous intent, a strong murderous intent.

Her almond-shaped eyes are narrow, and her head is like a deadly snake, raised high, ready to take someone's life at any time.

Is she not drunk? The writer held the wheelchair and leaned back unconsciously.

"Nuclear physics? What do you do?"

"It's probably explosive." Lin Ying licked her lips, breathing like a snake, and a deeper red appeared on her face.

Alcohol deeply anesthetizes the nerves, almost to the point of losing one's mind.

Drunk? The writer isn't sure.

"Is this why South America is conducting anti-terrorism exercises?"

When I was playing the game before, I mentioned that the writer was very concerned about this.

"Your sister is not an ordinary person... Hehe! Hiccup~" Lying on the table.

"Unusual?" The writer frowned. From Lin Ying's few words, it can be imagined that her sister seemed to have a terrible past.

I just don’t know if after death, a group of men in black suits and black ties will get out of the car, salute the coffin with a military salute, and then leave in style.

"What an unusual method..."

"Huhu~drink~" purred.

"Professor Lin?"

Lin Ying fell asleep.

Wow! Why did the film break when it was at its most intense?

The writer wanted to reach out to Lin Ying, but in the end he did not make a move.

I don’t know if he was really drunk or if he was pretending.

He put the pressed white coat on her body and turned the wheelchair out of the laboratory door.

Click~

Turning the handle, the door opened by itself, and the glasses girl and Chuan Yuan slipped out from the door frame.

"Why are you crying~" the girl with glasses greeted the writer nonchalantly.

"..."

The two women are stacked criss-cross on top of each other.

"Uh huh~" Kawa Yuan's face was suppressed by the big dumpling, and he waved his hands desperately.

The writer didn't bother to pay attention, and the bald man passed by the two women.

"Private Marseille~" The girl with glasses kept apologizing to Sichuan Yuan.

Chuan Yuan blushed with embarrassment and looked at the big dumplings so close to him. After all, he couldn't help himself and went up to pinch them.

"Kekeke~ It's very sensitive there~"

The writer went downstairs. It was still very early, but the sun's light was not so bright, and it was a bit gloomy.

The entire hall on the first floor was grey, and the wooden school emblem statue in the hall was automatically covered with dark special effects. The photos in the dusty display window were not very clear, and each one looked like a portrait. The writer looked at the glass door

, secretly regretting walking too fast (he couldn’t reach the door handle in a wheelchair).

After turning his wheelchair to the display window, the writer glanced at the introduction of the characters inside.

The first one is a bald old man who is an aerodynamicist, and then there is Lin Ying.

This really surprised the writer. Lin Ying seemed to be only about 30 years old, but she had such achievements?

[Lin Ying: Female - Han nationality - 31 years old]

[Ph.D., graduated from the Department of Physics, California Aeronautical University, USA. Researcher at Southeast China Research Institute, visiting professor at the California Space Monitoring Station...]

Space monitoring station? This is...

The writer vaguely remembers that when he was still studying in California, his sister seemed to be working at the monitoring station.

...

【Research direction: Sociology of the universe.】

...

The writer was stunned for a moment when he saw the research direction.

Is this still a colleague? But does the study of sociology after a physics graduate have a wider span? Will it be nonsense?

It's easy to say just about the span. Since Lin Ying studies sociology, why is her understanding of philosophy so shallow?

This makes the writer have to wonder if this Lin Ying is a foreskin professor.

"It's a circle and it's chaos~" the writer let out a long sigh.

There were several old men and young people behind, most of whom were engaged in aerospace.

In the chaotic era of the arrival of the flying stars, Blue Star Aerospace's use of technology has been unprecedentedly prosperous, and there are even some seemingly theological things, such as space jumps.

Among the theological sciences, the most popular one is supermassive physics. The goal of this discipline is very simple, which is to increase the total amount of matter that human beings can mobilize, hoping to use the energy of a planet to leverage the amount of matter in the entire solar system or even more star systems.

But it is obvious that this is inconsistent with logic. Except for chemical energy and light energy, which are more suitable for energy conversion between planets, the energy mobilized by humans is unreliable. And the most representative chemical energy in the world is fossil energy.

, obviously the total amount of openness is limited, and there is no possibility at all. As for light energy, it is even more unreliable.

Of course nuclear energy is a good choice.

It's just...the writer sneered.

In fact, even by the end of the Constant Era, human beings have not even reached the planetary level of matter, let alone star level.

The things in the windows were boring.

"Creak~" The glass door opened.

A small gust of autumn wind blew up, and the writer tightened his clothes.

A middle-aged man came in, with a Chinese character face and neat stubble on his chin.

Wearing a brown woolen coat, he was covering his pocket with his left hand and holding a document in his right hand. It could be seen from the curvature of the document that he was being affected by a surge of emotions.

The man noticed the writer in the wheelchair, a trace of surprise clearly flashed in his eyes, and he opened his mouth but said nothing.

With a look of understanding, he nodded, turned around and climbed up the spiral staircase without talking to the writer.

He seems to know me? The writer searched carefully and did not know this person.

Deng Deng Deng~

The man went to the laboratory upstairs.

"Mr. Yuan!" In the confined space of the corridor, the sound amplification effect is very obvious.

"Well," he said angrily, not paying much attention to the girl with glasses.

"Professor Lin fell asleep..."

The writer didn't pay much attention to this Mr. Yuan.

The glass door had already opened, and the writer quickly turned outside the closing door.

"How come she doesn't care about South America at all!"

That Mr. Yuan seemed to be very angry. He ignored the girl with glasses to stop him and only heard a bang, which was probably the sound of a kick on the door.

When the writer wanted to go back and eavesdrop, the glass door closed. His nose left a white circle on the door.

It hurt so much that the writer held his nose. The smell of blood was overwhelming.

Kawahara covered his ears and ran down the spiral staircase. As he pushed the door open, he muttered, "No gentleman at all."

"?"

Kawahara pushed the writer and shook his head, "Rude!"

"A grown man treats a weak woman..." he chattered endlessly.

"warum_ihn_einbeziehen? (German: Why involve him?)" Knocked on the table.

The woman's voice was loud, but it was in Latin. The writer didn't understand this ancient language, so naturally he didn't know what she was talking about.

The writer whispered to Kawahara, "Turn around!"

Kawahara still didn't understand what happened.

The writer twisted around and pulled Kawayuan hard. Kawayuan lost his footing and staggered into the writer's arms.

"What do you do..."

Then my mouth was blocked by the writer, with my mouth.

The sycamore leaves fluttered down from the branches, gently caressing the passion of the young man and woman, and then fell into the small pond.

"Uh huh~"

A figure quietly retreated behind the window upstairs, and the curtains closed with a clang.