Chapter 1: A Report from the Future

This document serves as a Post-Project Report concerning our ambitious endeavor to create a Dyson Sphere. The findings were derived from the probe Last Gasp 7's interception of object QC2047Z0606 on June 6, 2047. This mission marked the last effort we could afford following the catastrophic events of World War III, which began on February 24, 2022, with Russia's invasion of Ukraine and concluded with nuclear exchanges among global powers on May 19, 2031.

The report has been translated into English to facilitate understanding of communications from a once-advanced civilization that may have existed around the star FL730/28 approximately thirty-six million years ago.

To whoever may come across this in the future, we embarked on a project aimed at harnessing the total energy output of our sun. Despite being the only surviving technologically advanced species in our corner of the galaxy (largely due to our own missteps cancelling each other out), we believed ourselves capable of achieving the ultimate milestone: capturing solar energy on a massive scale.

The idea itself was deceptively simple. We envisioned enclosing our sun with enormous bands outfitted with efficient solar panels designed to convert solar radiation into electricity, thus providing us with an endless, clean energy source. Ephraem Mollusc, a renowned entrepreneur, managed to persuade both investors and governments to finance his grand scheme, dubbed the XtremeXploitXcessXothermXpansion. Mollusc estimated that the project would require a staggering $17 trillion and be completed within five solar cycles.

Yet, by the time we had completed just one-four-hundredth of the project, costs skyrocketed to over $95 trillion, and we were already facing a delay of forty-six years.

The real tragedy, however, was not merely financial. In order to construct our Dyson Sphere, we needed to dismantle our sixth planet, Gargantua, which was largely composed of nitrogen, hydrogen, and other harmful compounds. At its core lay a dense metal sphere, approximately five thousand kilometers wide, under immense pressure—enough to obliterate our most durable probes in an instant. We believed that as we stripped away Gargantua's gaseous layers, the pressure would ease, making the core accessible. The extracted gases were repurposed for propulsion systems in unmanned vessels used for this gas-stripping.

We had successfully removed 4.7% of Gargantua's mass when signs of trouble began to emerge. It is baffling that no one had considered the implications of our actions, given our understanding of gravitational physics. Gargantua played a crucial role in stabilizing the orbits of planets in our solar system, and with its mass diminishing, the gravitational balance began to shift.

As we continued our work, the orbital patterns of the other fourteen planets started to change, albeit slightly yet significantly. Our scientists quickly determined the cause, but the damage was irreversible. Calculations indicated that two outer planets were set to escape our solar system, and more alarmingly, our own planet's orbit was decaying, threatening to send us spiraling into the sun in just 4,271 solar cycles.

Instead of seizing the sun's energy, our planet would instead be consumed by it. This irony was not lost on our humorists, who found a lucrative niche in dark comedy, with the podcast ChiralSpiral attracting nearly a quarter of the global population for daily doses of gallows humor.

Ephraem Mollusc, in a desperate bid for survival, invested his fortune into a luxurious escape vessel, intending to flee the impending doom with two hundred companions, hoping to "seed our species across the stars." This project was the only one he completed on time; however, within three years, nearly all aboard succumbed to cancer from solar radiation, and Mollusc himself passed away within four years of his departure, having overindulged in his own excesses.

Now, we await the inevitable collapse of our planet's ecosystem as the heat rises and our atmosphere dissipates. The saying goes that hope dies last, but I assure you, I—Aximander the Not-Quite-As-Invincible-As-I’d-Hoped—shall be among the last to go, having claimed Mollusc’s hidden Panic Room as my refuge.

My advice to any future technologically advanced civilizations: should you encounter anyone proposing a Dyson Sphere project, restrain them and dispose of their promotional materials before their delusional ambitions can spread.

You have been forewarned.

Chapter 2: Lessons Learned

In this video, we delve into the intricacies of game design as illustrated in the Dyson Sphere Program, highlighting the lessons learned from our attempts.

This masterclass offers a step-by-step analysis of the Dyson Sphere Program, shedding light on the complex strategies involved in such monumental projects.