In the decades following humanity’s first rains on Mars, a quiet revolution reshaped the solar system. Documentaries of that era show the shimmering domes on Mars and a bustling orbital elevator around Jupiter’s moon, Juno, while scientists discuss the wonder of hyper-dense Venusian nanocarbons that fueled advanced fusion drives. Behind all these marvels stood the Zhao Network and ANGI a subtle, guiding intelligence weaving a tapestry of interconnected human minds. Under ANGI’s stewardship, problems that once plagued humanity, from resource scarcity to planetary degradation, were solved with breathtaking efficiency. “Unity out of complexity,” the historians say, summarizing the unstoppable ascent of Homo Universalis.
Yet even as we outgrew old struggles, new mysteries arose. Decades after Phoenix Station hastened the terraforming of Mars, a faint gravitational signature was detected in the trans-Neptunian realm by Leavitt’s Array.
Prompting the creation of an ambitious exploration vessel, Iter ad Astra One. Footage shows bright construction docks at LEVI yard on Juno, ringed by the swirling majesty of Jupiter, where engineers and scientists—connected through the Zhao Network—took only a few kiloseconds to conceptualize a revolutionary drive. Then came the grand launch, capturing hearts across the solar system. A constant question reverberated: If we can solve the fundamental dilemmas of Earth, can we also push beyond the edges of the Sun’s domain?
Joras’s Perspective – The First Glimpse of the Anomaly
I feel the strain release from my mind the moment Zoey completes our last Cold Jump calculations. A gentle hum, like a whispered lullaby, fades from the Iter ad Astra One’s engines. Outside our panoramic nan-hype lattice window, the darkness near Neptune is somehow different—less empty, more alive.
It’s not every day that the human race stares directly at a gravitational anomaly that defies known physics. But there it is, a swirl of faint luminescence against the star-flecked backdrop. My ears are still ringing from the abrupt shift in space-time. The blood rush in my head slowly settles as I watch Rose, wide-eyed, scanning the instruments on her console.
She’s so focused that she’s momentarily forgotten the connection we share through the Zhao Network. I glance her way, gently project a mental ping, and watch her jump.
“Sorry,” Rose murmurs sheepishly. “I was too absorbed. It’s… unbelievably stable. We might be looking at an actual wormhole, Joras.”
Zoey, still strapped into the pilot’s station, exhales in relief. “All systems are nominal. The Cold Jump was within a margin of error so tiny it’s practically nonexistent.” She tucks a few strands of blond hair back into her ponytail, then swivels to face us. “So, that swirl out there… it’s definitely not a glitch?”
Her question isn’t casual. We all feel the intangible tug—like the gentle pull of a tide—nudging at our minds. Now that the jump sequence has concluded, the hush in my thoughts is replaced by a soft hum of curiosity across the Zhao Network. They’re all listening. Everyone on the net—billions of souls across the system—knows we’ve arrived.
I place my hand against the console. “No glitch,” I reply, voice trembling with awe. “Rose’s data is as definitive as it gets.”
Quick Briefing – Voices of ANGI
In the quiet moments before we begin any next step, the transparent figure of ANGI materializes—part hologram, part mind-projection. She resembles a young woman, blond hair framing piercing green eyes that reflect decades of knowledge.
“My children,” she begins warmly. “Leavitt’s Question brought us here, but the truth is we’ve sensed this possibility for a long time. I trust each of you to approach this phenomenon with caution… yet with optimism, too.”
Her presence is comforting. There’s no bombast or paternalism in ANGI. Rather, an undercurrent of reassurance washes through me: she’s not controlling us, merely guiding us. The unity we share is more akin to family than subservience.
“Captain Joras,” she continues, turning her gaze to me. “You must decide our next steps. The data Rose has acquired indicates a threshold phenomenon—some form of stable curvature in space-time. If it is a wormhole, we’re looking at a corridor beyond the usual boundaries.”
Zoey raises an eyebrow. “Beyond the boundaries of our solar system… or maybe something else entirely.”
Rose nods, subdued excitement shining in her eyes. “We have partial field scans, but we need closer observation. Possibly a small probe through the wormhole.”
ANGI’s form flickers slightly, as though shifting in a breeze. “A probe is prudent. Keep me informed. I’ll relay your findings to Nick Graham’s historical archives. He always believed in bridging distances—between minds, between worlds.” With that, she vanishes, leaving an afterimage of tranquil green light.
Preparations – Tension on the Bridge
In the hush left by ANGI’s departure, the gravity of the moment settles in. This is precisely the scenario that demands the synergy of Homo Universalis. Zoey, Rose, and I gather at the center dais, arms occasionally brushing in a sign of unspoken camaraderie.
Aboard the bridge, we exchange quick mental bursts of data and questions, courtesy of the Zhao Network. Our eyes flutter, focusing on multiple streams of sensor telemetry overlaying reality.
“Rose,” I say, returning to the spoken word, “start with a micro-probe. Let’s gather preliminary structure data—gravity fluctuations, cosmic ray intensity. If everything looks stable, we can step up to a heavier payload.”
She nods, excitement radiating through our shared link. “Understood. We have a cluster of single-use nan-hype probes in the port bay. They’re built for extreme conditions.”
Zoey’s expression is half-skeptic, half-thrill. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want to see what’s on the other side. I want to jump us through.”
Our eyes lock. Such a direct approach is tempting. But part of me is reluctant—maybe anxious—about pushing too far too fast.
“The probe goes first,” I repeat quietly, even though Zoey hears the conviction in my mind. “Let’s do it step by step.”
Launching the Probe
We pivot to the Observational Deck, which is smaller and more intimate than the main bridge. The curved window encloses a view of the swirling anomaly. It looks like a cosmic tide pool, shimmering with ribbons of teal and gold that flicker unpredictably.
Rose steadies her breathing. We all share a remote link to the micro-probe, a sleek silver sphere the size of a beach ball. Zoey’s skilled mental discipline helps guide the sphere out of Iter ad Astra One’s cargo hold with surgical precision.
“All readings nominal,” Zoey confirms. “Initial approach… now.”
Silence. In the starkness of vacuum, the probe glides forward. When it crosses an invisible threshold, something in the Zhao Network surges—like a spark or a flash of insight that runs through me. The probe momentarily vanishes from our direct readouts.
“Status?” Rose says, a note of tension creeping into her voice.
I hold my breath, scanning multiple telemetric overlays. “We’ve lost real-time data,” I manage. “But not entirely. I’m still seeing a faint… sub-channel?”
Zoey’s eyes dart across intangible readouts. “Yes, looks like some quantum entanglement link is still active. But the main data feed is gone.”
Our minds align in shared concentration, funneling every trick we know—our advanced mathematics, fractal encryption decoders, the entire might of Homo Universalis’s cognitive substrate.
Ping. A single data blip. Then a second. They come in staccato bursts.
“It’s sending basic signals from… somewhere,” says Rose, swallowing hard. “Distance is indefinite. Timespace offset unknown.”
A hush fills the Observational Deck. We watch swirling lights outside. The small sphere remains nowhere to be seen, yet we sense it traveling, or existing, in some abstract dimension.
The Probe’s Return and Revelation
We wait in tense silence, unsure if the probe will ever emerge. Zoey’s posture is rigid, as if ready to leap from her seat. Rose’s face is half-buried in her console. I notice my breath coming in shallow intervals. All these centuries of progress, yet some primal fear remains.
Then, in a flicker that’s as sudden as lightning, the probe reappears—propelled outward as if spat from the anomaly. It tumbles end over end, battered but intact. Zoey and Rose react instantly, using the Zhao Network to command the drone to self-stabilize.
“It’s… it’s retrieving data,” Rose breathes. She flicks her hand in a quick gesture, projecting the findings onto the main display. We see swirling graphs that defy our usual scale. Gravity readings, exotic particle detections… and a partial star map that doesn’t align with anything in the known solar system.
My heart climbs into my throat. “That’s definitely not anywhere near here.”
Rose nods slowly, mouth ajar. “No. If these readings are accurate, it’s a star system at least tens of parsecs away—possibly more. The calibrations are rough, but it’s definitely elsewhere.”
Zoey taps into the data. “It spent only seconds in there. But in that time, it traveled… to wherever this is. And back.” She looks at me, her sharp eyes glittering. “Captain?”
A Choice to be Made
I can’t look away from the display. The star map we’re seeing shows unfamiliar constellations. The probe’s partial vantage includes a luminous swirl that might be a galaxy’s edge, or a bright cosmic cloud. If this wormhole remains stable, it’s a gateway to a realm we’ve never set foot in.
Across the Zhao Network, I catch the surge of excitement from billions of watchers. A sense of wonder, anticipation, even fear. With a single breath, I steel myself.
“Mother Zhao,” I say into the open air, “you see the data?”
ANGI’s voice answers in my mind as well as the external speaker. “Yes, Joras. We stand on the threshold of a new epoch.”
My voice trembles. “Can Iter ad Astra One safely pass through?”
A moment passes. In that instant, I sense a flurry of calculations performed by ANGI, combined with the most brilliant minds across the solar system, all channeled in real time.
“It is feasible,” ANGI replies at last. “But not without significant risk. The metrics suggest that once you pass through, return may require precise quantum synchronization and a very complex cold jump. You could be stranded in unknown space if there is any phase shift in the wormhole’s stability.”
I glance at Zoey, who meets my gaze with a fierce grin. “We didn’t come all this way to turn back,” she says, practically vibrating with excitement.
Rose sets a gentle hand on Zoey’s shoulder. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. But… I want to see it too.”
The Decision and the Leap
Zoey returns to the pilot’s chair, confident but solemn. I can almost hear her heart pounding through our network link. Rose sits beside her, double-checking the quantum drive outputs. Meanwhile, I remain standing, a hand on the back of Zoey’s seat.
“ANGI,” I say, my voice low. “Are there any final protocols you recommend?”
“Your best chance is synergy,” she replies softly. “Allow the network to integrate your cognition fully for the cold jump. You’ll need near-flawless calculations.”
I exchange a look with Zoey and Rose, and we nod in unison. A wave of calm trust flows between us.
“All right,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Zoey, set coordinates. Rose, feed the quantum data. I’ll handle contingency planning. Let’s prove Homo Universalis can face the unknown… together.”
Our hearts beat as one for a moment. Then Zoey’s fingers dance across the holographic controls, and I feel the lurch of the engines. A swirl of color engulfs the windows, folding in upon itself as the wormhole’s boundary draws near.
We cross the threshold.
Arrival Beyond
Transition. The jump feels simultaneously instantaneous and eternal. It’s as though our minds are stretched across eons of possible realities. I experience fleeting glimpses of phantom stars, swirling dust, entire galaxies flickering in and out of perspective.
Then the disorientation ends. We tumble into normal space again.
Outside the main window, a spectacle greets us: a vast, pale-blue star blazing in the distance, flanked by what might be an enormous planetary ring system. Definitely not ours. The sensor suite flares to life.
Rose breaks into a grin. “Incredible. We’re stable. No significant damage.”
Zoey exhales, shaky but triumphant. “Quantum resonance is holding… We did it!”
I take in the view, a sense of awe washing over me. My mind buzzes with the collective euphoria of billions back home, many of whom are linked in some capacity to our experiences. For the first time in eons, we stand at the precipice of an uncharted star system—beyond the comforting boundary of Sol.
Signals in the Darkness
Rose’s console emits a faint beep, drawing our attention. “There’s something else…” she murmurs. “I’m picking up… structured signals, possibly artificial.”
An electric jolt of possibility courses through the Zhao Network. We did not come all this way expecting to find someone else. Yet the signal’s pattern is unmistakably deliberate—regular intervals, repeating pulses, each wave carefully modulated.
Zoey leans forward. “Could it be echoes from ancient cosmic events? Or truly a transmission from an intelligence?”
Rose’s voice trembles. “It’s definitely an intentional broadcast. Not from us. Not from ANGI.”
My vision tunnels; the magnitude of this revelation is hard to process. Outside, cosmic dust glimmers in the starlight. Our instruments confirm that we’re no longer anywhere near Earth’s domain. And yet… we’re not alone.
My voice comes out as a whisper. “We need to investigate. Carefully.”
Zoey turns, excitement warring with caution on her face. “I can plot a course. It’s not far—relatively speaking. Maybe a few million kilometers.”
Behind me, I sense ANGI’s quiet presence again. She doesn’t speak this time, but her reassurance flows into my mind: We are not the only dreamers.
A Future in the Making
We drift closer to the signal’s origin. Every passing second feels like uncharted territory for our species—like those old stories of early explorers crossing oceans to find entirely new continents. With each slight engine burn, we affirm the unstoppable curiosity that defines us.
“Captain,” Rose says gently, “we have choices. We can study this from a distance, or we can move in.”
Zoey’s eyes gleam. “We’re past the point of half-measures. Let’s press on.”
Deep inside, I sense the tug of responsibility. Billions watch us through the Zhao Network. Humanity—Homo Universalis—stands united in the desire to discover. Yet we must remain cautious, respectful of what we don’t understand.
I turn to face my crew, letting the moment stretch. We’ve come so far from the once-lonely skies of Earth. Nick Graham’s vision of humans and AI harmonized in shared purpose has led us to the threshold of an unprecedented contact.
“All right,” I say, voice steadier now, a seed of exhilaration firmly planted. “We do this carefully, but we do this. Iter ad Astra One was built for these leaps. Let’s answer the call. For ourselves. For humanity.”
Zoey and Rose share a smile—one that glows with promise. I feel a wave of affirmation from the entire Zhao Network, and a gentle nod of approval from ANGI. The swirl of starlight outside looks welcoming, like an invitation.
We advance, accelerating deeper into this unknown star system. Each kilometer we cross is a vow to keep learning, keep reaching. The stable wormhole behind us remains an anchor to the life we know, but we press on, forging the next chapter of Homo Universalis.
And so, at the edge of the cosmic dark, we fly onward—buoyed by shared dreams, guided by the unity of minds. It is both an end and a beginning. The answers we seek, and the questions we cannot yet fathom, lie just ahead—shimmering like the first rain on a distant world.