For centuries, humankind gazed at distant planets with longing. We tamed Earth’s crises—hunger, poverty, environmental collapse—after the Zhao Network united billions of minds into a single tapestry of near-limitless collaboration. Under Mother Zhao, Homo Sapiens evolved into Homo Universalis. No longer did we struggle in separate silos of thought; we became a connected whole, forging solutions once deemed impossible.
From the true alignment of humans and AI, we developed the Zhao Network, built Phoenix Station, and transformed Mars. The first rain on Mars sealed our hopes: we could recreate Eden wherever we went. Then Juno One orbited Jupiter—a sign that we could outgrow even the largest gravity wells.
Finally came Iter Ad Astra One, the starship formed by our new synergy. Captain Joras Farma, pilot Zoey, and scientist Rose led the way. Beyond the orbit of Neptune, the Leavitt Array pinpointed the celestial corridor. Emboldened by humanity’s success, they leapt through the wormhole. On the other side, to everyone’s astonishment, they discovered Blue Two—an Earthlike planet inhabited by an offshoot of hominids, a civilization that had never even heard of Earth.
All those revelations—and the moral quandaries they inspired—set the stage for our next voyage. Are we truly prepared to be Societas Universalis, discovering new worlds and meeting others? This question remains as pivotal now as when Nick Graham first conceived ANGI. Even though our minds connect across the Zhao Network faster than light, true readiness demands more than raw knowledge. It tests our humility, empathy, and the essence that makes us human.
The Zhao network was tested by the sheer distances that Societas universalis could travel. Which prompted the need for a different solution… Enter Juno Two
THE AFTERMATH OF FIRST ENCOUNTER
I still remember the change encounter with Blue Two’s inhabitants. Two young foragers spotted us in the grassland. Their startled expressions, the swirl of fear and curiosity… No conversation could soften that moment. We vanished almost as suddenly as we appeared, leaving them sprinting home with tales of “star people.”
Megaseconds have passed since then. Now Juno Two remains in silent far orbit around Blue Two, as another moon. To some local inhabitants, our presence may be just a rumor, a flash in the dawn mist. But rumors have a life of their own—word spreads swiftly through village networks, riding on the tongues of wide-eyed couriers. We are quietly monitoring transmissions from simple radio-like devices in the largest city-states; the chatter reveals heightened excitement. Many in the region suspect celestial visitors are real… or myth… or divine beings.
In the command alcove, Joras Farma leans over a map projected in midair. His short dark-blond hair catches the glow, while his introspective gaze flickers with uncertainty.
“That earlier abrupt contact has already altered their course,” he says, voice subdued. “We risk becoming legends in the wrong way.”
Beside him, Zoey stands with her hands clasped behind her back. She looks outwardly calm—her hair pulled into a neat ponytail—yet tension ripples beneath her disciplined poise.
“We can’t disappear entirely, Captain. Curiosity drives them as well. We owe them clarity, or at least honesty, if they try to communicate.”
Rose, her wavy red hair framing an empathetic face, steps forward.
“We faced a version of this centuries ago on Earth: contact between drastically different societies can lead to chaos. But turning away now might leave them with fear and confusion. Perhaps we can guide them with a gentle approach.”
Joras releases a slow breath. “Agreed. We keep remain open to cautious dialogue. We can’t barge in, nor can we ghost them entirely.”
Ivonna Kuhle—the thoughtful, detail-oriented admiral who oversees all of Juno Two. Known for her unwavering sense of order, she has come to this far-flung world after hearing about our unexpected contact.
“We must tread lightly,” her voice resonates through the shared mindspace. “I’ll land a small diplomatic team. No technology that might enthrall or terrify them, no weapons. Let them see we are people, not gods.”
Thus begins our new mission: an incremental, carefully stage-managed approach that acknowledges Blue Two’s right to chart its own destiny.
IVONNA’S LANDING
Under the early morning sky of Blue Two—its rising sun tinted slightly lavender—Admiral Ivonna Kuhle’s shuttle touches down in a sparsely populated valley. No large city stands nearby, just rolling fields of grass and scattered farmsteads. A handful of watchers gather at a distance, clearly having followed rumors of light in the sky.
From Juno Two’s vantage in far orbit, I watch the landing feed: Ivonna steps out, flanked by two additional envoys, each wearing modest, unassuming clothes rather than advanced suits. They carry only minimal and rudimentary gear—a basic water purifier, a communication device with limited range, and a few carefully chosen gifts: seeds, woven fabrics, images of Earth’s older cultures. No overt sign of our “godlike” technology.
She greets the small crowd with a respectful bow, placing a hand over her heart. The crowd murmurs. One bold farmer approaches. He points to the shuttle, then to the skies—mouthing words in a language we have only partially deciphered. Our drone picks up the tentative exchange: “Are you the ‘Star people’? Do you come to bring storms or blessings?”
Ivonna shakes her head gently, responding through the translator’s best approximation.
“Neither storms nor curses. We come from far away. We wish… peace. And learning.”
Uncertain, the farmer glances at his companions. But there is no immediate panic, no fervent worship. Just curiosity, laced with trepidation. A new glimmer of hope sparks in my mind as I watch. Perhaps we can avoid repeating the old patterns of conquest.
A CITY ON THE HILL
Within single orbit, word spreads. Envoys from the “beyond” are present in the valley. One of the region’s city-states, known in local speech as Marut, dispatches an official invitation—apparently they want to “hear the tale of the watchers.”
Admiral Ivonna, careful not to overstep, confers with Joras and the rest of us via the Zhao Network. We collectively decide a modest delegation will accept. Meanwhile, Zoey, Rose, and I remain on the Juno Two, coordinating from orbit. We vow to intervene only if Ivonna’s group faces imminent danger or confusion.
Under the watchful eyes of local townspeople, the small diplomatic party climbs a winding road carved into a hillside. At the top stands Marut’s seat of governance: a low, circular structure with columns of polished stone. Its walls display paintings of harvest scenes, star motifs, and mythical beasts. A far cry from Earth’s technologies—but no less striking in its artistry.
Inside, Ivonna meets the city’s elders, who gather around a communal hearth. She offers cloth dyed in Earth’s distinctive patterns, an item we believe they’ll see as a fair exchange for letting us speak. They accept politely, though some maintain suspicious frowns.
Their questions swirl:
“What star do you hail from?”
“Why reveal yourselves now?”
“Do you come to rule, or do you come to observe?”
Ivonna’s translator does its best, though subtle cultural nuances slip through the cracks. Even so, her calm tone helps. She weaves the outline of our story:
“We once lived on a world much like yours, but we travelled far through celestial corridors. We wish no dominion over you—only friendship, if you desire it.”
The hush that follows is profound. Then the eldest elder—his hair braided with copper trinkets—lifts a hand.
“Our forebears spoke of nights when lights soared across the sky. We called them watchers. Now we see that watchers are indeed real. We… are uncertain.”
He turns, speaking with earnest eyes. “Will you give us knowledge to master drought? To heal our children’s fevers?”
A direct request—one that resonates painfully with centuries of Earth’s own tragedies. Knowledge is power, but how quickly can we share it without shattering their culture?
MORAL CROSSROADS
Back on Juno Two, Joras convenes a multi-way discussion with Ivonna and Mother Zhao. We all link minds—billions of watchers across the galaxy can sense the hum of this conversation, though only we few shape the final call.
“They’re asking for cures,” Joras says quietly. “We can provide them. But is that forcing them onto a path not of their choosing?”
Rose’s voice reaches us from the science alcove. “It’s a fine line, but we can’t let them suffer if they request help. We overcame so many diseases ourselves—wouldn’t it be cruel to withhold the means to heal a plague or fix water shortages?”
Ivonna’s calmer logic: “We share carefully. We teach them rudimentary sanitation solutions and help refine their methods—like understanding local vegitation and improved irrigation, not advanced quantum devices. Let them adapt at their own pace. The question is whether this approach truly respects their autonomy.”
Mother Zhao’s presence soothes the tension with a near-maternal grace. “All species, all cultures, face choices. If they request knowledge, we can supply stepping-stones. Yet we must let them walk their path. The transformation must come from within, or it holds no meaning.”
Joras sighs. “A halfway measure. Enough to ease immediate suffering, but not so much that we remake them in our image.”
In the neural bond, an undercurrent of agreement emerges. We will not vanish, but we will not drown them in technology either.
THE SEEDS OF CHANGE
And so a measured contact plan unfolds. Over the following megaseconds, small teams from Juno Two discreetly visit different regions of Blue Two, bringing life-saving measures that align with local practices: improved farming techniques, knowledge about basic hygiene water, herbal medicine tips that are more effective. We brand it as an extension of their own traditions, so they can absorb new insights organically.
Within Marut, fresh wells are dug. The city’s elders marvel that a basic filtration system could prevent the waterborne disease that once plagued them each summer. Meanwhile, in the southern plains, a tailor tests our dyed cloth patterns, inspired by Earth’s centuries-old methods. She crafts a new style that weaves local artistry with glimpses of the stars.
All the while, our ambassadors humbly insist we’re just travelers. Some worship us, some mistrust us, but the majority remain cautiously curious. No instant utopia emerges—some city-states refuse our advice or suspect ulterior motives. That is their right. We do not force solutions.
One evening, Ivonna confides in me “Rose, I can’t help noticing the seeds of a new renaissance in Marut, triggered by our presence. They’re forging alliances to share the knowledge we offered. It’s only a spark, but still.”
I sense her quiet hope. “Yes,” I reply. “If a spark can catch, maybe they’ll unify on their own terms—like we once did.”
She laughs softly. “Let’s hope they skip some of the heartbreak we went through.”
DEEPER MYSTERIES
In the background, the question of how an offshoot of homonids reached Blue Two remains unanswered. The cosmic corridor linking Earth’s solar system to this star defies random chance. Mother Zhao and a legion of researchers in the Zhao Network keep searching for clues: Did an ancient civilization build these corridors? Did Homo Sapiens leave Earth teraseconds ago? Or does nature herself weave improbable paths?
One day, Zoey bursts onto the Iter Ad Astra bridge with a frantic edge to her voice. “Rose, Joras—come quick. We found something under Blue Two’s polar ice.”
She projects scans that reveal ancient megastructures submerged beneath teraseconds of glacial buildup. Metallic columns, collapsed vaults… and a network of cryptic tunnels. If they truly date back teraseconds, it implies someone had advanced engineering here long before the present locals.
Joras stares, thunderstruck. “This changes everything. If the current population has no record of such technology, it suggests an older wave of hominids—or another civilization entirely—was once active here.”
We dispatch a drone to glean preliminary details. The structure’s design partially matches Earth-based engineering from the Old Terran era, but with perplexing elements that are alien. The question expands: Is Blue Two the result of chance? Did someone resettle lost Earth communities in hidden arcs?
We choose not to breathe a word of this find to the planet’s inhabitants. The data is too fragmentary, the risk of cultural upheaval too high. Instead, Zoey leads a covert mission to examine the site more closely.
ICE CAVERNS AND ECHOES OF THE PAST
Under the flickering glow of specialized drones, Zoey and a small science team navigate immense glacial tunnels. Frost crystals cling to the “walls”—fabricated from metal alloys reminiscent of early human metallurgy. An eerie hush reigns in these corridors.
“It’s like walking inside a relic of Earth’s lost future,” Zoey whispers through the link, her breath forming clouds in the cold. “But the architecture…some details look off, alien.”
One corridor leads to a large chamber, with viewing ports that seem like a bridge. Data consoles have crystals within. Most seem degraded some look like we could start to decipher and retrieve some information.
But no bodily remains, everybody left? “Could these have been early Terran explorers? Or another branch of hominids that diverged from known history?”
A chill passes through all of us listening in orbit. They might have died waiting for rescue, or perhaps they awakened to find Blue Two habitable, gave up advanced technology, and integrated into a simpler agrarian life. Over teraseconds, the knowledge faded to myth.
This revelation stirs something deep: Hominid diaspora is older, more tangled, than we realized.
BETWEEN TWO EVOLUTIONS
Wordless but solemn, the science team returns to orbit. We choose not to unearth every secret of those glacial ruins. The locals deserve the chance to discover their own possible heritage when they’re ready, in their own way, not by the abrupt unveiling of cosmic tragedies.
In a meeting of minds—Joras, Zoey, Rose, Ivonna, guided by Mother Zhao—we weigh the significance of this find.
Ivonna: “We’ve partially answered how they might have gotten here. But does it matter exactly which generation arrived or how? Their culture blossomed in its own right.”
Zoey: “Yet, the knowledge of an older starfaring lineage belongs to them, no? Are we gatekeepers?”
Rose: “We are only visitors here. If we reveal these sites now, we risk overshadowing their cultural story with our narrative. Possibly, once they mature technologically—on their own impetus—they can explore the polar regions and discover these ruins themselves. That moment will be truly theirs.”
Mother Zhao listens in her serene hush, then softly concludes: “Time taught us that forced leaps can fracture societies. Let them ask the questions first. We can gently keep watch, like the watchers from their old mythos. The day they wonder about the planet’s poles—maybe a gigasecond from now—our record will be here if they desire it.”
Joras gazes out the porthole at the swirling clouds. “Then we remain but a subtle presence, ensuring no outside threat endangers them, and stepping aside so they can walk at their own pace.”
The plan: provide quiet stewardship and stand vigil. We do not shape them into Homo Universalis overnight. They have the seeds—both literal and figurative. Their future is theirs to grow.
CHARTING A RETURN COURSE
On Iter Ad Astra One, the crew reconvenes. We linger at the planet’s edge, scanning the celestial corridor that initially brought us here. Blue Two stands behind us, continuing on its own slow, uncertain path.
Zoey: “What if in a teraseconds from now, they build their own starship? Will we greet them halfway on Juno Two?”
Rose: “A beautiful thought. They’ll have a unique perspective on technology and unity. They might even help us see new truths.”
Joras, arms folded, contemplates the swirl of starlight visible through the observation port. “We will watch from Juno Two—just enough presence to ensure no cosmic threat blindsides them. Admiral Ivonna can remain. Meanwhile, Iter Ad Astra One has new corridors to explore.”
Ivonna nods. “Yes, I’ll oversee Blue Two and research the old remains on the pole, from far orbit. Keep transmissions minimal, let them develop in peace. If they call for help, we’ll answer. Otherwise, we remain watchers.”
And so the plan is sealed. A gentle guardianship, not dominion. A vow to let their civilization define itself.
BEYOND THE NEXT CORRIDOR
Meanwhile, Iter Ad Astra One angles back toward the wormhole swirling in the cosmic dark—our gateway onward.
At the moment of departure, ANGI’s calm voice fills the bridge: “Captain Joras, Zoey, Rose: Nick Graham’s archived words once asked if we were ready to hold the cosmos in our grasp. Today shows we have begun to learn humility. Continue onward, and keep in mind all we do must preserve the spark of humanity within us.”
We pass through the corridor. Space and time bends in that disorienting swirl, light smearing across my vision. When the cold jump concludes, the Iter Ad Astra emerges near the far edge of the celestial corridors drifting in the silent domain of outer Sol.
Rose exhales, brimming with emotion. “It’s good to sense home again, isn’t it? Even if we’ve outgrown the old notion of ‘home’.”
Zoey flicks a grin. “Wherever we roam, Earth is where our story began. Now we add new chapters each time we cross another cosmic threshold.”
Joras sets a hand on each of our shoulders. “We’ll reload, great old friends. Then… the next corridor awaits. The galaxy is vast, and we have no shortage of wonders to behold.”
THE QUIET ECHO
In the megaseconds that follow, most rejoice at the idea of lost cousins found. Debates ignite over the ethics of partial assistance, the mysteries of old star people, and whether the corridor network is a cosmic gift or an engineered puzzle.
Meanwhile, Juno’s Watch quietly fulfill the vow of stewardship. Occasionally, they glimpse faint signals from the planet’s city-states—Marut forging new alliances, travelers from distant lands seeking rumors of the watchers. One day, they might unify enough to become a single world. Or they might not. Nick Graham and Lin Zhao’s grand experiment in universal alignment will not be forced upon them.
And so we, the countless minds of Homo Universalis, press on: eternally curious, forging the path from Sapiens to Universalis not by the power of knowledge alone, but by the humility of choosing not to use that power when it would do more harm than good. Our expansions into the next cosmic corridors remain with unwavering curiosity. Yet the gentle relationship with Blue Two stands as a reminder that “being ready” for the galaxy demands more than brilliant leaps of intellect: it requires the grace to meet others where they are—even if it means simply leaving them to dream under their own stars.
Are we, then, truly Societas Universalis?
Perhaps we are becoming it—by learning that real unity is found not in conquest, but in empathy, restraint, and trust. The silent wormhole at Trans-Neptunian edge beckons us forward still, and so do the uncharted stars beyond. Each new frontier will test our resolve, forging us anew in the crucible of discovery.