The Tycoon's Odyssey

Under a massive digital dome, Evan stood surrounded by thousands of holographic projections, each rendering an intricate, otherworldly spacecraft design from multiple angles.

The projections floated around him, filling his view with the staggering details of a ship of ambition and imagination—a theoretical vessel capable of achieving the maximum speed permitted by nature, one that edged impossibly close to the speed of light.

In Evan's mind, the ship was called the Relativis, a vessel designed to reach a velocity just shy of 300,000 kilometers per second, the universally recognized speed limit set by physics.

However, the lightspeed barrier remained unreachable, it wasn't simply a matter of fuel or propulsion. In fact, nature itself presented a barrier, a cosmic speed limit that imposed the weight of infinity on any object that dared to approach it. The energy required to push matter to the speed of light would stretch beyond the grasp of any conceivable power source, making the very idea tantalizing, but in a forbidden frontier.

Each projection showcased a different aspect of the Relatives.

Its design was a rough, almost skeletal outline; sharp, angular wings lined its sides, built to pierce through the unknown reaches of deep space. Its hull, composed of layered, segmented plating, was meant to absorb and dissipate the deadly interstellar travel radiation, though it was still little more than a skeletal model—incomplete and theoretical.

Engine compartments spread across the ship's rear, where theoretical "dark energy thrusters" gleamed with the promise of propulsion. At the front, a curved shield-like structure was designed to counteract debris and cosmic particles—a critical feature to protect the craft— that could annihilate it at such a speed limit.

But despite the ambitious design, Evan knew that Relativis was still a dream, something like this was still decades, if not centuries, from becoming a reality.

Current Earth materials fell woefully short of an ambition of this calibre. Even the strongest alloys like titanium, carbon composites, and graphene—each a marvel in its own right—would collapse at such velocities, crumbling under immense friction and strain. Titanium, though renowned for its strength and lightweight structure, would warp from the strain near lightspeed.

Graphene, while strong and lightweight, was still fragile on a molecular level when exposed to such extreme conditions and while carbon composites lacked the resilience to withstand cosmic radiation, it would degrade at speeds near 90% of light.

Evan sighed, noting the theoretical challenges. "Aurora," he said, glancing at his AI assistant's projection hovering beside him, "it seems like we're still lifetimes away from crafting something that could endure these speeds and make this a reality. How do you think intergalactic civilizations handled these obstacles? How do they travel across such unfathomable distances?"

Aurora appeared to consider this, but before she could answer, a soft chime echoed within him.

In Evan's mind, the system, embedded directly within him, interrupted him with a calm, almost knowing tone.

[Did you forget about space gates, and teleportation?] It asked, materializing beside Evan before giving him a weird look.

[Most intergalactic travelers rely on space jumps to traverse vast distances, bypassing the limitations of speed altogether.]

Evan raised an eyebrow at the reminder, an intrigued smirk forming on his lips.

Space gates, teleportation, jumps across star systems—he'd been so absorbed in the conventional approach that he had almost overlooked the unconventional.

"Gates, right," he murmured, a hint of excitement flickering in his gaze. The cosmos, it seemed, had methods that circumvented the constraints of matter and velocity—a thought that sparked a new wave of possibilities.

Evan chuckled, but as practicality tempered his excitement, he shook his head slightly. "I know that," he replied with a hint of exasperation. "But here's the issue—setting up space gates requires us to get there first, doesn't it? If we haven't traveled to those points prior and built the gates and devices on-site, how exactly are we supposed to even jump? You're skipping the most critical part, you idiot."

"Also if you want to say we place a gate here and use teleportation to open a portal in the mid-air junction of the place we want, then even for that we will need space coordinates. And where will I get those?" Evan scoffed.

[I think he hadn't thought about this cause his perspective is skewed by its level of consciousness. I wonder if the entire universe meant much and being an entity to consciousness in the universe, it might have managed to travel with a thought.] Aurora answered for the system, making Evan's lips twitch.

'It seems the system really has brainwashed Aurora with its claim of omnipotency,' he thought wryly.

The system fell silent for a moment, as though contemplating his argument. Then it responded with a faint, almost humorous lilt.

[A fair point. Exploration and physical presence are prerequisites for the creation of gates. However, alternative technologies exist in other systems for automated probes and are capable of constructing gates, thereby reducing risk to explorers. Perhaps it's time to advance Earth's tech.]

Evan's gaze returned to the holographic spacecraft surrounding him, as though re-evaluating his approach. "Automated probes… interesting," he mused. "But even that's a step beyond what we have. We'd need a revolution in materials science just to make probes that can endure those long distances and harsh conditions, let alone capable of constructing a working gate."

Evan then began pacing slowly, the projections around him shifting with each step as his thoughts ran deeper. The challenge wasn't merely achieving unprecedented speeds for traveling; it was creating machines durable and autonomous enough to survive years of travel through unknown dangers. These vessels would need to withstand cosmic radiation, solar winds, and the gravitational forces that were capable of warping the space itself.

Aurora's voice cut through his thoughts, calm and supportive.

[Sir, we're limited by today's materials, yes. But with breakthroughs in metamaterials, quantum-reinforced alloys, and even some of the experimental substances, we might be able to reduce degradation and increase the craft's resilience. There are worlds to explore, Sir, but perhaps not yet within our reach.]

Evan nodded, a mix of both frustration and exhilaration of pioneering limits stirring within him. "Then," he said, his voice firm with resolve, "our next goal is clear. Before we can make these jumps and gates, we need to push Earth's capabilities further than they've ever gone. We need materials that aren't just tough or durable but those that are practically unbreakable—capable of withstanding forces that nature itself has yet to throw at us."

The digital dome around him seemed to shift in response as if acknowledging his words. He knew that his vision wasn't just about speed or distance; it demanded a profound leap in understanding, a complete redefinition of what humanity had believed all this long to be possible.

"And when we do achieve that," Evan continued, glancing back at Aurora, "we won't just be moving through space. We'll be moving through history itself."