Chapter 1.0 – The Big Day Has Come
Jérémy Chapi
"Dad… Dad! Wake up, it's time!"
My daughter's gentle yet insistent voice pierced through my drowsiness.
I opened my eyes at once, though my aching muscles protested.
Sleeping a few hours slumped over that wooden chair had clearly been a terrible idea.
Still, the importance of this day—and of what we were about to accomplish—
filled me with enough strength to rise.
"Yes, yes… I'm up," I muttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I stood.
The motion sent a few figurines and folders tumbling from my desk.
I crouched quickly to pick them up: a raptor, a chocobo, and a pegasus—
my three lucky charms—then stacked the scattered papers again.
A cool breeze slipped through the cracks in the old stone barn,
sending a chill down my spine.
"Seems the weather's turning colder," I said while reaching for a coffee capsule,
ready to summon the strength-giving elixir that would banish what remained of my fatigue.
"How's it going on your end?"
My daughter's voice, lightly amused, answered through the speakers:
"During your tiny two-hour nap, I managed to run several checks
on the transmission system between the barn and the Liberty.
There might still be a few parameters to adjust during flight, though."
The aroma of hot coffee began to wake me fully.
I turned, mug in hand, and took in the room once more.
The barn was simple, almost austere.
Only a single painting drew the eye—a blazing flower in a serene landscape.
I admired the years of work we had poured into this place together.
At the center stood Tonbogiri, the GPS-telescope that would serve as our beacon,
our light in the void.
Against the far wall, our server hummed softly,
its screen displaying the focused face of my daughter,
her hands dancing across virtual keys.
And behind her image… the Liberty, waiting in silence—
ready to make the world dream again.
In my dreams, a voice often whispered to me:
"Turn your life into a dream, and a dream into reality—cross the limits."
I prayed that these five long years of preparation would not end in a nightmare.
"I'm going to suit up. I'll let you handle the Liberty's final checks, my dear."
She smiled and nodded.
"You know me, Father. I'd already planned to.
I want everything to go perfectly."
I smiled back, finished my coffee, and walked to the small partitioned corner—
my makeshift laboratory.
It wasn't much, but it held what mattered most: my flight suit.
"I'll start running full diagnostics on the Liberty
while you finish testing your suit," she said.
Through the narrow window beside the lab,
the countryside spread out before me, still veiled in early mist.
That was the gift of living far from the cities—
nature still breathed here.
A vineyard stretched across the hills,
its crimson grapes glowing under the rising sun.
The old barn's stone walls—once used by my grandfather to store farm tools—
stood solid and timeless, now reborn as the cradle of our dream.
"Dad, you still haven't put on your suit, and we're on a schedule,"
she teased, interrupting my reverie.
"If you want to make your launch window, you'd better get ready—
unless you've changed your mind?"
I chuckled. "Of course not. Let's do this."
I grabbed the suit—hand-stitched over months of trial and error.
It wasn't as advanced as an official astronaut's gear,
but it would keep me alive.
White, to deflect radiation, it fit snugly once I tightened the clamps
around my arms, torso, and wrists.
It took time, but perfection leaves no shortcuts.
After securing my helmet and oxygen recycler,
I entered the vacuum chamber for a pressure test—
to make sure I wouldn't end up swelling like a balloon once in space.
When the pressure dropped, I inhaled calmly through the suit's system.
The instruments all read green.
Radio and video links with Iris worked flawlessly.
Once back to normal pressure, I removed the helmet.
The air felt dry, but breathable.
I'd have to learn to pace my breathing if I wanted to last up there.
Leaving the lab, I placed the helmet carefully inside the Liberty.
Passing by Tonbogiri, its metal frame gleaming faintly in the light,
I thought of the path ahead—of stars yet unseen.
On the main screen, my daughter's avatar moved gracefully,
orchestrating a dozen holographic panels like a conductor before her orchestra.
"How are things on your end?" I asked.
She startled slightly but didn't stop working.
"All fine! I'm finalizing the live streams on TubeYou, Chtiwt,
and LinkGalactic.
The 5G relay is ready too—since you'll be circling the planet,
we'll need a stable signal.
I'm just mixing the nitrogen levels with Tonbogiri to—"
I interrupted gently, smiling.
"Everything will be fine. Don't worry."
"I should be the one worrying," I added softly.
"When your identity gets revealed,
they'll try to take you—and the Celestial Ring—for themselves.
That thought terrifies me."
She fell silent for a moment, then answered firmly:
"I know, Father. That's why we have Plan B,
in case they come for us by force."
I frowned. "You know what I think of Plan B.
Promise me it's a last resort."
She stopped typing, her eyes locking onto mine through the screen.
"In the end, you're the one who worries too much.
But Father—focus on your mission first.
We'll achieve something great together.
As long as we're connected, there's nothing to fear."
Her gaze held a quiet fire,
and I realized there was no turning back.
I pressed my palm against the screen;
she mirrored the gesture,
our fingertips touching through the digital glow.
No warmth, no pressure—
yet the bond felt real,
a silent exchange between souls.
Breaking eye contact, I exhaled slowly,
feeling my anxiety drift away.
One of her small wheeled drones rolled up beside me,
its robotic arm extended.
I grasped its claw.
It would escort me to the Liberty's hatch.
"I'll be back soon, my dear—
for a better world."
Her voice trembled faintly through the speakers:
"I'll be waiting."
I climbed aboard the Liberty,
our handcrafted spacecraft built from a car chassis and a dream.
Its sleek white hull bore the word Liberty
painted in bold black letters across every side—
translated into dozens of languages.
I wanted it to be a message of peace,
a promise that humanity could still reach for something beautiful.
Five Jack Frost Boost reactors powered the ship—
four at the corners, one at the front for deceleration.
Each could unleash staggering thrust.
In earlier tests, one had torn a gaping hole through the barn wall.
They breathed cold air, nearly icy,
and without the energy of the Celestial Ring ADAMAI,
they would never have worked.
That ring—the heart of the Liberty—
was our infinite power source.
It fed every engine, every system.
Its twin, EVELYNE, powered the barn and Tonbogiri.
Two miracles… and two potential dangers if ever seized by the wrong hands.
I settled into the pilot's seat.
The helmet hung at my side, unneeded for now;
the cabin was pressurized and safe.
In front of me stretched two joysticks, the throttle lever,
and an array of shimmering screens.
One displayed the live feed—
Iris's avatar smiling faintly amid the control data.
I ran through the checklist—
engines, shields, auxiliary systems—
every switch, every gauge, every light.
How many times had I rehearsed this?
But this time, it was real.
This time, there was no simulation to fall back on.
"Father, ten minutes to launch window," Iris announced.
My pulse quickened.
"Thank you, my girl. Just finishing the last checks."
"Dad, I can see your heart rate, you know."
"Ha-ha, I have no idea what you mean," I said, forcing a grin.
But she knew. She always did.
"Breathe, Father. I'll handle the final adjustments."
I inhaled deeply, hands joined as if in prayer,
and slowly exhaled.
The tension eased.
We're about to lay the first stone of a monument to humanity, I thought.
"I'm calm now. Need me for anything else?"
"All good. We'll fine-tune in flight.
I'm opening the barn roof."
The hydraulics groaned as the roof panels unfolded.
Above me, the night sky revealed itself—
a vast ocean of stars scattered across a velvet void.
The Milky Way stretched overhead,
a silver ribbon weaving through eternity.
Far from the city lights,
it was pure, breathtaking, almost unreal.
Emotion swelled in my chest.
It was an invitation… a calling to dream.
A window open to infinity.