Chapter 10 — The Star Growers

The satellite network lost signal at 11:43 a.m., when Ha was measuring the temperature of the filter room and Cu was changing the belt for a pump. The TV at Mrs. Mui's shop showed a blue screen, then switched to the words "updating". Everyone's phones still have signal, but the weather map is frozen at the previous hour.

Lam knew about it not because of the announcement. She knew because the positioning clocks of the four stars were 17 seconds off.

“Gray Star,” Bach texted in the technical group. "The solar storm caused the satellite navigation and communication network to become unstable. Don't panic. The center switched to ground forecasting."

Cu read the news and said: "What is the ground forecast?"

“Coastal station, radar, manual observation.”

“So the Garden of Stars is still there?”

Lam looked at the screen. Five ground stations sent. V-19 seeds sent broken. V-20 was lost before. Thin Cloud's blue box receiver is not displayed.

“Still,” she said. “But we don't know what time we're positioned.”

Mien sat next to him and turned the mechanical clock on the table. I placed a vibrating light next to the receiver. When packets arrive incorrectly, the lights vibrate irregularly.

“Do you want to change station time?” Lam asked.

Mien nodded and wrote: "Don't use satellite. Use school whistle."

The old school had a mechanical clock that was two minutes slow. Thao Nhi said that in the past it was a place where people adjusted the train time by listening to radio news. Now the national radio still broadcasts but the signal from the satellite is intermittent.

Bach called over the ground. His voice is small and noisy.

“The center lost the cloud image layer of the entire area,” he said. "The radar is still there, but the Van Suong area is at the edge of the scan. We can't update the map."

“How long will it take?” Lam asked.

“Minimum 48 hours, maybe 72.”

“Does Graystar make salty winds?”

"Not directly. It causes lack of satellite data, does not change the weather as desired."

“So the wind layer is still a Thin Cloud thing?”

“Not yet concluded.”

“We need to know quickly.”

“I will ask for priority channel.”

“No. Please send us how we record the data so you can use it when the system comes back.”

Bach stopped. “She wanted to be prepared for no one to see her.”

"Exactly."

At the medical station, Ha did not wait. She divided people into three groups: checking houses for respiratory diseases, bringing water to the salt furnace area, and going to each household to receive stations. She told them not to use the word "storm" because there was no storm yet; just saying the satellite network is unstable, local data needs to be monitored.

“If people ask is it dangerous?” a volunteer asked.

"Speaking of unknown danger. Instructions on not being dangerous."

That sentence was written on the board, under Lam's four conventional lines.

Cu gathered the seafarers at the workshop. He drew the flow of water on the board, relying on buoys, machine smells and thermometers. A fisherman said the wind on the lagoon was still southeast. Others say fish in the roof area reflexively change direction.

“No one went out to the lagoon this afternoon,” Cu decided.

“What right do you have?” one person asked.

"No. I have an opinion."

“Then don't speak as ordered.”

Cu erased the word "forbidden" on the board, writing "not recommended; whoever goes records their own time and score."

Lam stood outside and listened. Cu is also learning how to speak with certainty.

At noon, Vom station sent a string of increased pressure, while Choi and Rau increased salinity. There are no cloud photos to compare. Lam delineated the area on the paper map, recording an arc from the reflection site to the school.

Thao Nhi brought out an old set of astronomical instruments. She said that when satellites are lost, people often think the sky is blind. But you can use stars to check the time, use shadows to check direction, and use smell to check the land. No method alone is sufficient.

“What do you really want us to see?” Lam asked.

“I want my kids to remember that data doesn't start with a screen.”

In the afternoon, Bach sent the time conversion process: each station used the school's mechanical clock time as a benchmark, recording both the local time and the deviation. Mien sets up a transition table with colored lights. I attached a spare battery to the watch, then marked each vibration with the time on the terrestrial radio.

“I don't listen to the radio,” Lam said.

Mien placed an induction coil near the speaker. The current causes the box to vibrate. You don't need to listen to the content to get the time rhythm.

“Are you going to fix the system now?”

Mien wrote: "I will let everyone know the time difference."

Lam nodded. Don't hide the error, just put it in usage.

At 5:00 p.m., the station's generator was weak. Five stations do not send simultaneously. Lam wants to turn off some to preserve power for the medical station. Kha objected because if it was turned off, the chain would be lost at a time when there would be no satellites.

“There's not enough battery to keep them all,” he said.

“Prioritize stations that have people,” Ha said. “Data does not come before water.”

Lam divides the schedule: Vegetables, Choi, and Arch are sent alternately; Roof and Workshop sent later; The medical station maintains the source. Kha fix cycle. Cu brought the ship's battery, but with a different type of connector.

Mien removed an old charger and soldered it. The girl didn't ask if it was allowed, but Lam asked her to write down the risk: wrong connection could burn the fuse.

“What if it burns?” Mien wrote.

“Stop, replace fuse, record.”

“No scolding?”

“Scolding cannot fix the string.”

Mien held out his hand and asked Cu to hold the light. I followed suit, not asking if you were sure.

The sun set, and Star Garden was left with only dots of ground data. There are no new flying particles, the sky is emptier. Children ask why they don't see stars on the screen.

Thao Nhi took them to the yard. Real stars gradually appear in the dark space between clouds. She said don't call a star a sensor station. It does not measure salinity, but helps correct direction.

Lam looked at the needle on the mechanical watch. It's 17 seconds off the phone, similar to the noon packet. Mien gestured 17 times, then pointed to the sky.

“Gray Star,” she wrote.

“You name it?”

Mien nodded. “Data color.”

No one knows what a solar storm looks like. But from that night, Van Suong called the signal loss the Gray Star, not to make it romantic but to remember that incidents in the sky could touch the basin of water on the ground.

At 9 p.m., Bach called back. He said the center will temporarily stop broadcasting detailed forecasts and will only broadcast news for large areas. Some communes have asked if they should relocate early because there are no pictures of clouds.

“What about us?” Lam asked.

“I can't say.”

“You can say you don't know.”

“Don't know yet.”

“And what needs to be done?”

“Watch the ground, stay in touch.”

Ha listened and said to Lam: "We have done it."

A packet from V-19 arrived, 29 seconds late, recording reduced upper-level heat, no salinity due to tear. Not enough forecast, but wind direction is still northwest.

Lam placed the package next to the dust sample and map. She didn't know if the wind layer touched the school or circled to the sea.

Cu walked in, holding his brother's phone. "My ship didn't go out. But the shore gauge recorded a drop in pressure."

"How much?"

“0.7 in ten minutes.”

“Old machines can be wrong.”

“It's an old machine.”

Lam notes.

Mien placed a piece of paper between them. I draw four lines: high-level wind, surface wind, shore pressure, and dust on the roof. All headed to the old school.

“Do we need a warning?” Cu asked.

Lam looks at convention. Source, time, certainty, work, how to receive.

“Conditional warning,” she said. "Do not evacuate. Close the seaside doors at the school and medical station, move the classroom tomorrow morning to the inside room, do not release more seeds."

Ha asked who would give it to people who don't have a phone.

Mien held up the vibrating box. I and the volunteer group will go to each area.

Lam wrote the newsletter, read it publicly, and then sent it to Bach. He did not approve, only replied: "Specify local data, not a national warning."

“Recorded.”

Before going to sleep, Lam went to the dome. V-19 turns off the lights. In the real sky, stars still exist, even if the system cannot name them.

Mien stood next to her, placing her hand on the railing. A very slight vibration passed through the metal from the receiver box in the yard.

Lam asked: "Is there a signal?"

Mien pointed towards the sea.

A thin strip of light appeared on the roof of Thin Cloud's reflection, then disappeared.

There are no satellites, no cloud images, no one standing in the center to say what it is.

Star Garden begins its first night without people watching from above.

During the first hour of satellite loss, young people had the habit of opening the map continuously, swiping the phone screen and then stopping. Without a location marker, they had to ask each other for directions using familiar objects: the almond tree in front of the school, the flagpole next to the dike, the red roof with peeling paint. Thao Nhi said paper maps have never disappeared; it is just placed under brighter glasses.

Lam divided the duty team into three-hour rounds. Each team must record both remaining power and the status of the person on duty. Lower requirements not to keep a person awake for too long, because fatigue also creates errors. Cu brought an oil lamp, but Mien reminded her that the smoke could affect the dust sample. They put lights outside the door, while inside the room they use rechargeable batteries and red lights.

Bach sent instructions via radio channel. Long delay, broken sentences. He said the center could not issue a new forecast yet, but was checking the last image before interference. Lam read it back to everyone and added a sentence of Van Suong's own: "No new photos don't mean the sky stands still."

On the school roof, V-19 sent a series of time-shifted numbers. Mien discovered that her watch was twenty-seven seconds late because the battery was low. If they edit the data directly, they lose track of the device's true state. I suggest recording two columns: device time and reference time using a mechanical clock. Bach listened on the radio, was silent for a moment, then said that was the best way.

Ha created a list of households to call, not just those who reported difficulty breathing. There's someone who lives alone, someone who takes care of a newborn, someone who can't read text messages, and an old man who hears loudspeakers but doesn't understand long sentences. Van Suong Rhythm was used for the first time in the absence of a central system. The person on duty must explain each beat with hands, lights and paper.

By morning, there were no major incidents. That makes everyone more tired, because they don't know if they have prepared too much or just enough. Lam noted in the report: “Night without satellites shows minimal autonomy, does not prove that the local system can replace satellites.” That sentence is not heroic. But it keeps Star Garden from becoming an easy sell story.