aircannonsinc Chapter 107 Having a Child?
Chapter 107 Having a Child?
Chapter 107 Having a Child?
"Boss Andy, are you really stopping?"
Bauer held a freshly cut circuit board in his hand, looking reluctant to part with it.
"We just got this production line sorted out a couple of days ago, and the yield rate has just started to pick up. We can produce one small balloon a day now. If we stop it, we'll have to recalibrate it again when we restart it."
"stop."
Andy's voice was resolute.
"The current thirty base stations are enough to provide a clear view of the surrounding area."
"Looking further ahead, we don't have the manpower to deal with it."
"There's overcapacity, Power."
Bauer scratched his head, feeling regretful but not daring to argue, and turned to get back to work.
The holographic projection table emitted a faint blue light, which shone on Andy's expressionless metallic face.
The airspace map within a 500-kilometer radius of Horisonburg has been fully illuminated, with thirty green dots moving slowly along their designated orbits.
Through these eyes, Andy could clearly see an area more than 430 kilometers south of Harrisonburg.
To be honest, this surveillance network is practically perfect.
But Andy's finger hovered over the console and eventually pressed a red button.
Production Order: Abort.
[Target Project: Sky Dome-1 Low Earth Orbit Base Station (subsequent batches)]
Status: Production line down/resource reallocation.
As the command was given, the assembly line in Zone C, which was used to assemble small balloons, stopped. The red stop indicator light was on, and several mechanics responsible for this line stood there blankly, their robotic arms dangling in mid-air, looking somewhat comical.
Andy cut off the production capacity of one small balloon per day.
The reason behind it is both simple and deeply disheartening.
There's no one here.
There's really no one left.
Andy is currently facing a bottleneck that all farming-style players encounter in the early stages, and it is also the most frustrating.
The demographic dividend has run its course!
The total number of people currently registered with Deep Space Industries, plus some homeless people who have been taken in over time, is only 682.
This number seems acceptable, considering that in many wasteland stories, a few hundred people is already considered a sizable settlement.
The problem is that Andy wasn't building settlements, but heavy industry.
Of these 682 people, some are responsible for operating the "Material Molecular Reconstruction Instrument" and the "Alien Technology Analysis Station," two money-devouring behemoths; others are responsible for maintaining the operation of the precision machining center; still others are responsible for mining the surrounding auxiliary mineral deposits; and still others are responsible for driving the dozens of transport vehicles for logistics.
A portion of the personnel also need to be assigned to security, acting as armed forces to protect the base.
In some cases, someone even has to cook, unclog drains, and clean.
Andy has strong planning and coordination skills. Relying on Iron Man's supercomputing power, he is able to maximize the value of every bit of labor.
The system operates on a three-shift system, rewarding those who work harder and offering extra contributions, with everyone participating.
But this still doesn't change the fact that we don't have enough manpower.
Even with the assistance of many automated drones, some key positions still cannot be filled without human intervention.
Drones can transport goods, but they cannot understand the intricacies of complex assembly drawings.
Drones can patrol, but they cannot handle sudden production problems.
After the initial explosive growth in the first two months, the curve of capacity growth has now irrevocably become a rigid horizontal line.
At times, there can even be a decline due to worker fatigue and illness.
Andy sat in the large command chair, looking at the curve that was no longer rising, and a strong sense of anxiety welled up in the core of his logic.
This kind of anxiety is simply torture for a farming-style player.
He began to desperately reminisce about the days in his previous life when he played virtual ascension games.
Wow, that feeling must be amazing!
With a virtual ascension and enough power, a single click on colonization will instantly fill the entire planet with population!
There's no need to wait for them to grow up, no need to build them a house, and no need to worry about them getting sick or throwing tantrums!
They were born to work; they were born to be highly skilled workers!
Back then, production capacity exploded exponentially, technology advanced in an instant, and fleets were launched like dumplings being dropped into the sea!
Where would things be like this now?
"Too slow—too slow—"
Andy couldn't help but mutter to himself.
At the current rate, it would take at least a decade to accumulate enough resources to build a battlecruiser.
Although Andy wasn't too panicked, he didn't want to drag it out for that long.
"Sixth grade."
Andy connected to the inside line.
"Please retrieve the personnel files; I need to see the latest detailed data."
"receive."
Tables and pie charts popped up on the holographic screen.
Andy glanced at it, and his heart sank even further.
Total population: 682.
[Male: 650]
[Women: 32 people.]
[Elderly, infirm, and disabled (not fully capable of working): 0 people (all have regained their ability to work through prosthetics or medication).]
Looking at the glaring "20:1" male-to-female ratio, Andy fell into a long silence.
They fought their way out from the bottom nest of Furnace No. 7.
In that harsh environment, rife with gangs, and where people died every day, it was inherently much more difficult for women to survive than for men.
Apart from a very few strong women like Jessie, or women with special survival skills, most women at the bottom of society have long been victims.
Most of the men who survived following Andy all the way from the bottom of the nest to the orbital dock and then crash-landing on this wasteland planet were strong, tough men with blood on their hands.
This has led to the extremely distorted population structure of the deep space industry.
"Have a baby?"
"Lay an egg!"
The thought had barely crossed Andy's mind when he ruthlessly suppressed it.
Are these 32 women expected to shoulder the heavy responsibility of increasing the population?
This is not a question of whether it is humane or not!
This is a dream!
Even if we start mandatory pairing now, and even if everyone is willing to have children, it still takes ten months of pregnancy, right?
What happens after the baby is born?
They need to be raised, right? They need to be educated, right?
It will be at least fifteen years before these newborns are able to enter the factory to tighten screws and wear exoskeletons to fight.
fifteen years!
In this damn Warhammer universe, let alone fifteen years, who knows how bad things will be in fifteen months!
The so-called "natural population growth" is a complete interstellar joke for the current deep space industry.
Frustrated, Andy closed the personnel file, stood up, and paced back and forth in the command center.
The metal foot slammed into the floor with a dull thud.
He felt he needed a way to quickly and massively acquire a large population.
"Sisyphus, come to the studio."
Andy spoke into the communicator.
Ten minutes later.
Sisyphus arrived at the studio.
Since arriving in Horisonburg, this former mob boss has been living a very comfortable life.
He was still holding half a bottle of red wine in his hand, clearly enjoying a rare moment of leisure.
There is no exploitation by Helios here, no threat from the followers of Nurgle. All you have to do every day is manage the distribution of supplies, and you can enjoy the best treatment.
In his eyes, this was already paradise.
"Andy, what do you want?"
Sisyphus settled into a comfortable position and asked with a smile, "Is it another new project? What is it this time? A photoelectric conversion center?"
Andy pointed to the production capacity curve on the screen that was gradually flattening out.
"Look at this," Andy said sharply, "our growth is coming to a standstill."
Sisyphus glanced at it and shrugged dismissively.
"So what if it's stagnant?"
"Andy, we need to learn to be content."
Sisyphus swirled his wine glass.
"Do you know where we are? We're in Zais, on the edge of the pagan stars, on a wasteland planet teeming with scavengers and bandits."
"It's already a miracle that we were able to establish such a large base in just three months, with independent power, water, and military industrial systems."
"Even if we do nothing from now on, relying solely on our existing inventory and production capacity, as long as we hold on, in a decade or so, we will still be the biggest super warlord on this planet."
"We have everything we need, so why force ourselves to pursue exponential growth?"
Sisyphus represents the thoughts of most normal people.
Content with modest wealth and taking steady, pragmatic steps.
Now that we've established ourselves in this chaotic world, let's enjoy life and develop gradually!
As long as they don't do anything reckless, Deep Space Industries can indeed live a very comfortable life, but Andy doesn't think so.
"More than ten years?"
Andy looked at Sisyphus, the blue light in his electronic eyes somewhat dazzling.
"Sisyphus, do you think we have more than ten years left?"
"You think we're safe just because we escaped Casting Furnace No. 7?"
"I need to give you a heads-up, don't actually think of the Colonus expansion as some kind of great place."
"Those bandits who plunder everywhere in their landships, those Dark Eldar who shot down the Newborn."
Do you think they'll let us live peacefully for another ten years or so?
Andy continued, "The current stability is an illusion."
"If we can't get our fleet up before the real threat arrives, when disaster strikes, our meager resources won't even make a ripple."
Sisyphus was startled by Andy's words, and spilled some of his wine.
He opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but didn't know what to say.
After all, Andy's previous judgments had been incredibly accurate, whether it was his prediction of Helios or his warning of the Tyranid invasion.
"Then—what do you want to do?" Sisyphus asked weakly.
Andy didn't answer directly, but looked at Xiao Liu instead.
"Xiao Liu, give me a data model."
"If we maintain the status quo and rely solely on internal development and natural reproduction, how long would it take us to build a full complement of battlecruisers?"
Xiao Liu's one eye flickered, clearly indicating that he had already calculated it.
"Based on the current capacity growth rate and human resource attrition rate —"
"Under the premise that no major accidents occur and the supply of raw materials is sufficient."
2
Estimated time: 18 year.
'
""
Sisyphus fell silent.
"What if we could solve the manpower problem?" Andy pressed. "What if I gave you five thousand people, five thousand skilled workers?"
Xiao Liu gave a new number.
Estimated time: 1 year.
From eighteen years to one year.
The magic of human resources and the terrifying power of economies of scale are all embodied here.
"Do you understand?" Andy pointed to the comparison between the two numbers. "This is the reality we have to face."
"The bottleneck we are about to face is people."
"We are short of people, we are short of many people, and we ourselves—cannot give birth to them."