CATS AND THE SUPERNATURAL: THE CHILLING CONNECTIONS

On By Alessandra GemmoIn Cats, Cats and the SupernaturalLeave a comment

Introduction

Cats and the supernatural: throughout history, cats have been regarded as creatures of mystery, their quiet grace and enigmatic behavior inspiring reverence and superstition. Unlike dogs, whose loyalty is open and demonstrative, cats carry an air of independence, often seeming to exist in a realm just beyond human understanding. Their nocturnal habits, sudden bursts of energy, and ability to silently observe their surroundings have led many to believe they possess an awareness beyond our own—a sensitivity to unseen forces, perhaps even the supernatural.

Across cultures and centuries, stories of mystical felines have persisted. In ancient Egypt, cats were revered as sacred to the goddess Bastet, regarded as protectors of homes, and guides to the afterlife. In medieval Europe, they were often feared as witches’ familiars, believed to possess otherworldly powers. Japanese folklore tells of bakeneko, shape-shifting cats with ghostly abilities, while Scottish legend warns of the Cat Sìth, a spectral feline that could steal souls. Even today, many cat owners report unsettling behaviors—instances where their feline companions seem to interact with an unseen presence. It’s not uncommon for a cat to suddenly stop mid-play, fixate on an empty corner of the room, and stare unblinkingly for minutes at a time, their pupils dilated as if watching something move. Others have described their cats arching their backs, hissing, or puffing up their fur in reaction to an invisible entity as if responding to a threat no one else can see.

Beyond sensing spirits, some cats also appear to mourn their deceased owners in ways that defy explanation. There are numerous accounts of cats lingering around their owner’s favorite chair, bed, or belongings, meowing mournfully, and refusing to leave as if expecting their human to return. Even more eerie are cases where cats continue to visit their owner’s graves, sitting in quiet vigil or bringing small gifts, such as leaves or twigs—behavior that has been documented in several well-known cases, including the Italian cat Toldo, who faithfully brought tributes to his owner’s grave every day.

In some instances, grieving cats appear to sense the presence of their deceased owners. Owners who have lost a beloved family member have reported that their cats suddenly perk up, stare at an empty seat on the couch, or even rub against the air as if greeting someone familiar. There are also chilling stories of cats meowing at closed doors in the middle of the night as if trying to get the attention of someone who is no longer there.

Could cats, with their heightened senses and deep emotional connections, perceive things beyond the physical realm? Are they merely responding to environmental cues, or do they genuinely possess an ability to detect spirits? Whatever the explanation, the behaviors exhibited by these mysterious felines continue to fuel the belief that they serve as a bridge between the living and the beyond.

In this post, we will explore the fascinating and often chilling connections between cats and the supernatural: from anecdotal accounts of ghost-sensing felines to religious figures who cherished their companionship, from grief-stricken pets who seem to visit their owners’ graves to spectral cats said to haunt old buildings. Whether these stories result from heightened feline senses or something beyond scientific explanation, one thing is sure—cats have always walked the fine line between the ordinary and the extraordinary.

1. Can Cats See Ghosts?

Anecdotal Evidence

Many pet owners claim their cats suddenly stare at empty spaces, hiss at unseen entities, or refuse to enter certain rooms. Sometimes, cats stare intently at nothing visible, making humans wonder if their pets are sensing something supernatural.

Scientific Explanations

(a) Enhanced senses: Cats can see in near-total darkness, hear ultrasonic sounds, and detect minuscule air movements—abilities that might explain why they “see” things we don’t.

(b) Electromagnetic fields: Some theories suggest paranormal activity is linked to EMF fluctuations, and cats might be more sensitive to such changes.

(c) Infrared vision: Cats’ eyes might detect infrared radiation from warm bodies, which could make them seem aware of invisible presences.

2. Religious Figures and Their Love for Cats

Many religious leaders and historical figures have demonstrated a profound affection for cats, often associating them with spirituality and wisdom.

1. Saint Gertrude of Nivelles (c. 628–659)

Background: Saint Gertrude was a Benedictine abbess from Nivelles, in present-day Belgium. She co-founded the Abbey of Nivelles with her mother, Itta, and was renowned for her piety and dedication to monastic life.​

Association with Cats: In recent times, Saint Gertrude has become known as the patron saint of cats. This association appears to have emerged around the 1980s, possibly due to her earlier veneration as a protector against rodents, as cats are natural predators of such pests. Artistic depictions often show her holding a cat, symbolizing this connection. ​

2. Julian of Norwich (1343–after 1416)

Background: Julian was an English anchoress and Christian mystic, best known for her work Revelations of Divine Love, considered one of a woman’s earliest surviving English books. She lived a secluded life in a cell attached to St. Julian’s Church in Norwich.​

Association with Cats: While no direct historical evidence details Julian’s relationship with cats, popular imagery and folklore often depict her with a feline companion. This portrayal stems from the typical life of anchoresses, who, living in seclusion, may have kept cats for companionship and to control vermin. ​

3. Prophet Muhammad (c. 570–632)

Background: Prophet Muhammad is the founder of Islam and is regarded by Muslims as the last prophet sent by God to guide humanity.​

Association with Cats: Islamic tradition holds that Muhammad had a deep affection for cats. One popular story recounts that he cut off a sleeve of his garment rather than disturb his cat, Muezza, who was sleeping on it.

4. The Very Rev. Robert Willis (1947–2024)

Background: Robert Willis served as the Dean of Canterbury Cathedral from 2001 until his retirement in 2022. He was known for his engaging sermons and contributions to church music.

Association with Cats: During the COVID-19 pandemic, Dean Willis’s online prayer broadcasts from the cathedral’s garden gained widespread attention, partly due to the unscripted appearances of his cats, Leo and Tiger. These feline interruptions endeared him to a global audience, highlighting his affection for his pets. ​

5. Saint Pio of Pietrelcina (Padre Pio) (1887–1968)

Background: Born Francesco Forgione in Pietrelcina, Italy, Padre Pio was a Capuchin friar renowned for his piety, charity, and the mystical phenomena attributed to him, such as the stigmata—wounds resembling those of Christ. He dedicated his life to prayer, the confessional, and aiding the suffering. He founded the Casa Sollievo della Sofferenza (House of Relief for the Suffering), a large hospital in San Giovanni Rotondo.​

Relationship with Cats: There is limited documented evidence of Padre Pio’s relationship with cats. However, some accounts suggest he had insights regarding animals and their spiritual significance. In various narratives, he is noted to have encountered the devil in different forms, including that of a large black cat, which aimed to frighten him. ​

6. Pope Benedict XVI (Joseph Ratzinger) (1927–2022)

Background: Born in Bavaria, Germany, Joseph Ratzinger was ordained as a priest in 1951. A profound theologian, he served as a professor and later as Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. In 2005, he was elected as the 265th pope, taking the name Benedict XVI. He resigned in 2013, citing health reasons, and became Pope Emeritus, a position he held until he died in 2022.​

Relationship with Cats: Pope Benedict XVI was widely recognized for his affection towards cats:​

Feeding Strays: As Cardinal Ratzinger in Rome, he was known to feed stray cats around his residence.

Chico the Cat: In Pentling, Germany, he befriended a neighbor’s orange cat named Chico. This feline became the narrator of the children’s book “Joseph and Chico: The Life of Pope Benedict XVI, as Told by a Cat,” which illustrates the pope’s bond with cats. ​

Papal Apartments: His fondness for cats was evident in his living quarters, where he kept a white ceramic cat on his desk, symbolizing his enduring affection for felines. ​

Source: Catholicnewsagency.com

3. Cats Mourning Their Owners and Visiting Their Graves

Anecdotal Stories

Cats have been known to linger by their deceased owners’ belongings or gravesites, sometimes refusing food and showing signs of depression.

1. Toldo: The Loyal Italian Cat

Background: Toldo was a gray and white tomcat from Montagnana, a village near Florence, Italy. He was adopted by Renzo Iozzelli when he was just three months old, and the two formed a close bond. Renzo passed away in September 2011 at the age of 71.​

Devotion Beyond Death: Following Renzo’s funeral, Toldo began visiting his owner’s grave daily, bringing various small items such as leaves, twigs, plastic cups, and paper towels. This behavior continued for over a year, with Toldo making his way to the cemetery each day to leave these tokens on Renzo’s tombstone. Renzo’s widow, Ada, noted that the cat’s offerings were a testament to the strong bond between Toldo and her late husband. ​

Community Reaction: The villagers of Montagnana were touched by Toldo’s unwavering loyalty. Some attempted to provide food and water for the cat during his visits, while others were moved by the profound display of affection and mourning that the animal showed. Toldo’s story garnered international attention, highlighting the deep emotional connections that can exist between humans and their feline companions.

2. Oscar: The Predictive Therapy Cat

Background: Oscar was a therapy cat adopted in 2005 by the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island. This facility cares for individuals with severe Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s disease, and other illnesses. Oscar was known for being aloof, often keeping to himself and not particularly friendly towards people.

Predictive Behavior: Approximately six months after his adoption, staff noticed that Oscar would make rounds, sniffing and observing patients. He would then choose to nap beside particular residents, all of whom would pass away within a few hours of his visit. This pattern became so consistent that the nursing home staff began to recognize Oscar’s behavior as an indicator of impending death. When he was found sleeping next to a patient, staff would alert the family members to allow them to say their final goodbyes.

Scientific Attention: Oscar’s unique ability attracted the attention of the medical community. Dr. David Dosa, a geriatrician at Steere House, published an article about Oscar in the New England Journal of Medicine in 2007, bringing international attention to the cat’s predictive behavior. Dr. Dosa later authored a book titled Making Rounds with Oscar: The Extraordinary Gift of an Ordinary Cat, exploring Oscar’s story and the implications of his actions. ​

Possible Explanations: Several theories have been proposed to explain Oscar’s behavior:​

(a) Scent Detection: Oscar might have been sensitive to specific scents or chemicals released by dying cells, allowing him to detect when a patient was near death. ​

(b) Behavioral Cues: He could have been responding to subtle changes in the patient’s behavior or the environment, such as decreased movement or altered routines.​

(c) Learned Behavior: Oscar may have associated specific medical equipment or staff behaviors with end-of-life care, leading him to seek out patients who receive such care.​

Legacy: Throughout his life, Oscar accurately predicted over 100 deaths, providing comfort to patients in their final moments and offering families the chance to be present during their loved ones’ passing. He passed away on February 22, 2022, at the age of 17, leaving behind a legacy that underscores the profound connections between humans and animals, especially in healthcare settings. ​

Both Toldo and Oscar exemplify the deep bonds and intuitive behaviors that cats can exhibit, offering insights into animal emotions and their capacity to connect with humans in profound ways.

4. Ghost Cats: Spirits from Beyond

1. Ordinary Ghost Cats

Many cat owners report eerie sensations that suggest their feline companions linger even after death. One of the most common experiences involves feeling a phantom weight pressing down on the bed, often in a way that mimics the exact spot where their cat used to sleep. These experiences range from a subtle warmth near their feet to a full sensation of a cat walking across the blankets or curling up beside them—yet, when they look, no cat is there.

Some describe waking up in the middle of the night to the familiar dip of a small body settling down next to them, followed by the soft pressure of phantom paws kneading the blankets. Others report hearing faint purring, feeling the gentle press of fur against their skin, or even reflexively reaching out to pet their cat, only to grasp empty air.

Anecdotal Accounts

Many pet owners have shared their stories online, in books, or even in paranormal research communities. Some particularly chilling examples include:

(a) The Cat Who Kept Visiting: One woman reported feeling her late cat jump onto her bed every night for months after its passing. The sensation was so real that she once turned over abruptly—expecting to see her cat—but found nothing.

(b) Phantom Kneading: A man described waking up in the middle of the night to the distinct sensation of his cat kneading his chest, something it had done every night before it passed away. The feeling lasted long enough for him to whisper his cat’s name before the weight vanished.

(c) A Cat-Shaped Impression on the Blanket: Some claim to have seen a visible indentation on their blanket, as if a small body were lying there, only for it to disappear when they moved or turned on the light.

Possible Explanations

(a) Sleep Phenomena and Hypnagogia. One scientific explanation for these sensations involves hypnagogic hallucinations—vivid sensory experiences that occur in the twilight state between wakefulness and sleep. These hallucinations can be auditory (such as phantom purring), tactile (feeling a weight on the bed), or visual (brief glimpses of a familiar shape in the darkness). The brain, in a state of relaxation, may recreate the comforting presence of a deceased pet, much like grieving individuals sometimes “see” or “hear” lost loved ones.

(b) The Power of Habit and Muscle Memory. Long-time cat owners may also experience what psychologists call “muscle memory” or “phantom sensations”—their body is so accustomed to the small weight of a pet at night that it continues to “feel” it even when the cat is gone. This is similar to the way amputees report phantom limb sensations.

(d) Residual Energy and Paranormal Theories. For those who believe in the supernatural, these occurrences are interpreted as residual hauntings—the idea that strong emotional bonds can leave an energy imprint in a place. A cat that spent years sleeping in the same spot may continue to “return” there, even in spirit form. Some paranormal investigators speculate that because cats are susceptible to electromagnetic fields, they might be more likely to leave behind such imprints after death.

2. Famous Ghost Cats

The Demon Cat of the U.S. Capitol (D.C.)

One of the most infamous ghostly feline legends in the United States, the Demon Cat (or D.C., as it’s sometimes called) is said to haunt the corridors of the U.S. Capitol Building and the White House.

Origins of the Legend

The story of the Demon Cat dates back to the 19th century when Capitol guards and night watchmen reported seeing a mysterious feline prowling the building’s hallways. The cat was said to appear suddenly, often growing to an unnatural size before vanishing into thin air.

Sightings and Omens

The ghostly cat reportedly appears before major national tragedies. Some say it was seen before the assassination of Abraham Lincoln in 1865 and before the stock market crash of 1929. Witnesses claim that the cat starts as a small, normal-sized feline. Still, as they approach, it suddenly grows into a monstrous, panther-like beast with glowing eyes before lunging at them—only to disappear moments before contact. The Demon Cat has been spotted in the basement and hallways of the Capitol, particularly near the Old Supreme Court Chamber. Some stories suggest that paw prints have mysteriously appeared in the Capitol’s marble floors, allegedly left behind by the spectral feline.

Explanations

(a) Some historians believe that the legend of the Demon Cat originates from the time when the Capitol had a rodent problem, and real cats were brought in to help control it.

(b) Others speculate that the stories were started by sleep-deprived guards, who may have seen ordinary cats roaming the corridors at night and let their imaginations take over.

(c) Paranormal enthusiasts, however, maintain that the Demon Cat is a spirit animal acting as a warning sign for major historical events.

The Greyfriars Bobby’s Feline Companion (Scotland)

The story of Greyfriars’ Bobby, the loyal Skye Terrier who spent 14 years guarding his owner’s grave in Edinburgh’s Greyfriars’ Kirkyard, is well-documented. However, lesser known is the legend of a ghostly cat that is said to haunt the same cemetery.

Origins of the Ghost Cat

Visitors to Greyfriars’ Kirkyard, known for its dark history and ghostly activity, have reported seeing a spectral feline that roams near the graves. Some claim that the ghost cat is linked to Greyfriars’ Bobby himself, possibly a stray that kept him company during his vigil. Others believe it is the spirit of a former graveyard cat, lingering near its old home even in the afterlife.

Sightings and Paranormal Phenomena

Witnesses report a shadowy cat darting between tombstones, only to vanish upon closer inspection. Others claim to hear phantom meowing or purring sounds, especially near the Covenanters’ Prison, a notorious site within the cemetery known for its paranormal activity. Some visitors have even felt a soft, warm presence curling around their legs, yet when they look down, no cat is there.

Explanations

(a) Like the famous ghost dog stories, the Greyfriars’ ghost cat may be a residual haunting, a spirit replaying familiar behaviors from life.

(b) Some theories suggest that the energy of Greyfriars’ Kirkyard, known for its tragic past and strong paranormal activity, could be a conduit for spirit animals as well.

British Ghost Cats

The UK is home to numerous ghost cat legends, with hauntings reported in historic pubs, old castles, and even ordinary homes.

Notable British Ghost Cat Sightings

(a) The Black Cat of York Minster (York, England). A spectral black cat is said to haunt the corridors of York Minster. Some believe it is the ghost of a medieval priest’s pet that still roams the historic cathedral. Visitors have reported feeling a soft brush against their legs, followed by the sight of a black shadow that disappears.

(b) The Cat of the Tower of London (London, England). Tower guards claim to have seen a ghostly feline prowling the grounds. It is rumored to be the spirit of a cat owned by one of the tower’s many historical prisoners. Some guards report hearing scratching sounds behind walls as if the spectral cat is still trapped somewhere within the ancient structure.

(c) The Derbyshire Phantom Cat (Derbyshire, England). A well-known urban legend speaks of a large ghost cat seen crossing roads in rural Derbyshire. Some speculate that this is not a ghost but a phantom big cat, possibly a lingering imprint of an exotic pet once released into the wild. There are reports of glowing eyes appearing in the darkness, even where no animal is present.

Final Thoughts

Whether these experiences are tricks of the brain, subconscious grief manifesting in physical sensations or genuine visitations from beyond, they serve as a reminder of the profound bond between humans and their feline companions. Cats have a way of making themselves at home in our lives—and, perhaps, even in our afterlives.

THE EMPIRE CAN WAIT – CHAPTER 1, PART 2

On By AlessandraIn Aliens and Alien Abductions, My Novels, Sci-Fi, Uncategorized, WritingLeave a comment
Fig.1: Kyle Tokalau outside the Onkalo (i.e. “the hole” in Galactic slang.)

Please read the Prologue here.

Read here Chapter 1, Part 1.

Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240

June 23rd, 666 GE

“You know, ssomethhing ssthrange happened thoday,” Uful’lan mumbled, chewing his second chocolate bar. “One of my thrapss didn’th work.”

Twiglet wasn’t paying attention.

“Really? What?” she responded absently.

“Thhe sthassiss field wass minimal,” Uful’lan continued. “Jussth enough for a dwarf thh’yag or a yanaathhije, if you’re lucky… Buth the game cannoth free ithsself.”

“I wonder what happened to my inocybe,” Twiglet muttered distractedly. “They should be over there.”

“The thrap wass off,” Uful’lan persisted, growing more puzzled. “I ssure don’th underssthand.”

A sudden unease gripped Twiglet. “What did you just say?”

“Uh? I ssaid I don’th underssthand.”

“No, before that!” Twiglet urged sharply, finally focusing on his words.

Uful’lan blinked, surprised by her sudden interest in his ramblings. “Jussth thalking abouth my thrapss. One of thhem had been swithhched off.”

“Oh no!” the mahjit groaned. “I knew something was wrong!”

She rushed from the living room despite her short, sturdy legs, quickly bounding up the winding stairs to the upper floor.

“Thwigleth! Whath’ss going on?” Uful’lan called, struggling to follow her through the narrow passage. “Whath’ss thhe matther? Whath are you looking for?” he panted when he finally caught up.

Twiglet ignored him, furiously rummaging beneath her bed. Emerging with a dusty case, she hauled it into view.

“Whath’ss in thhere?”

“Stop asking questions,” Twiglet snapped. She blew away the dust and lifted the lid, reaching into the protective padding and carefully pulling out a dark blue sphere with a flat base.

“Whath a fussss abouth a computher!” Uful’lan exclaimed skeptically.

“This isn’t just a computer,” Twiglet grumbled. “This is OCC—my beloved hyperneural probe. It will tell us exactly what’s going on.”

Dabih Major, coordinates 46.880/+05.453/120.750

June 23rd, 666 GE

Kyle had a sinking feeling. The bastard intended to ruin him—had planned it all along. How else could the police have found him so quickly? Just out of hyperspace, and a patrol ship had instantly fired upon the Aranui. It felt as though they’d been waiting for him.

“Forget it,” Kyle hissed. “You’ll never get my ship. I’d rather blow it up myself.”

“Come on, Kyle! Don’t get angry!” Nagatomo’s eyes sparkled with smug triumph. “It was only a friendly proposal—not that your pile of junk is worth it, anyway. It’s a miracle you can even still get it off the ground. One of these days, you’ll find yourself stranded, unemployed… unless, of course, you decide to become Rosie’s gigolo.”

He erupted into obscene laughter, which his cronies quickly echoed.

Kyle had heard enough. Turning sharply toward the exit, he reclaimed his blaster from the pockmarked thug, who offered it back with a sneer. The man’s teeth resembled a row of rotten stumps, and Kyle resisted the urge to knock them out.

“Cheer up, Kyle!” Nagatomo taunted as Kyle moved away. “You can always try your luck betting a few credits on a cyberfight match!”

An idea sprang unbidden into Kyle’s mind. He wasn’t sure if it was true or not, but he refused to leave without at least exacting some minor revenge. Without hesitating further, he took a gamble.

“By the way, Felix, I wonder if Rosie knows your cut of the cyberfight profits is significantly higher than hers.”

The grin instantly disappeared from Nagatomo’s face.

“Aha,” Kyle thought with satisfaction.

“What do you know about that?” Nagatomo demanded sharply.

“Me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. See you around, Felix. I think I’ll go have a little chat with an old friend.”

“Kyle, wait!” Nagatomo’s tone had suddenly lost all its arrogance. “We can still reach some… agreement.”

Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240

June 23rd, 666 GE

Twiglet’s study was a cramped room at the base of a winding staircase, cluttered with books of every imaginable sort: outdated leather-bound volumes, prehistoric DVDs, and microchips stacked precariously on diamond-shaped racks.

A shrill, tiny voice abruptly chimed in:

“THE INTEGRAL CATASTROPHIC PROBABILITY AT GALACTIC SCALE HAS RISEN TO 95%. WE ARE NEARING CRITICAL LEVEL.”

“This is absurd!” Twiglet thought, hunched over her computer. “At this rate, we should already be facing a civil war—or worse—but the Galaxy has never been more peaceful.”

She took a deep breath and tried again. “Exclude the ghost ship reports from the Beta Crateris subsector. They’re probably overdosing on hallucinogens out there.”

“DONE.”

“Now factor in recent cases of political corruption on Hamal III and the environmental disaster on Ukuku.”

“DONE.”

“Reduce the statistical weight of cold cases from Arkab XI to 15%… no, wait, make that 14%. It’s probably another serial killer anyway.”

“DONE.”

“Good. Recalculate the synchronic tensor and give the local probability density.”

The OCC paused briefly before replying.

“THE LOCAL PROBABILITY DENSITY IS 91% AND CLIMBING.”

“That’s impossible!” Twiglet exclaimed, exasperated. “Did you include the 10% bias for all events after the Emperor’s death?”

“YES, MA’AM.”

“Display the probability density map on a galactic scale.”

The probe projected a high-definition holographic map of the Galaxy, color-coded to reflect uniform density regions. Twiglet’s frustration deepened as she noted the complete absence of any significant attractors.

“Detect and identify all density peaks. Highlight any correspondence with known planetary bodies.”

“UNABLE TO COMPLY. NO DENSITY PEAKS ABOVE THREE SIGMA RELATIVE TO BACKGROUND NOISE.”

Twiglet sighed deeply, resting her elbows on the cluttered desk. According to her calculations, the Galaxy teetered at the brink of catastrophe. Unfortunately, the limited data from Bageechaa’s galactic subsector prevented her from pinpointing anything specific. It felt as though a dangerous storm was simultaneously gathering everywhere—and nowhere at all.

Twiglet realized she had no idea what was happening.

Dabih Major, coordinates 46.880/+05.453/120.750

June 23rd, 666 GE

Stepping out of room 114, Kyle flipped the credit chip into the air and caught it neatly in his palm.

Five thousand credits!

A stroke of genius. With a bit of luck, he might even manage to lift off before dawn—assuming they let him live that long.

Murder was routine at the Onkalo. Patrons regularly resolved arguments with blaster fire, and Rosie Gallows would dispatch servodroids to clean up the bodies afterward.

Kyle paused, reconsidering his next move. Predictability was dangerous; it was better to leave another way. Then he remembered the bridges—tubular walkways that spanned the distance between buildings at various heights. They’d once served as passageways, but the war had left them in ruins, and corrosive fungus had further weakened their metallic structures.

At the fire escape, Kyle chose to climb upward rather than descending. The adjacent building was abandoned; from there, slipping away unnoticed would be easy.

He raced up to the third floor, taking the stairs two at a time. Twice, he paused to listen, heart pounding, wary of pursuers. All he heard was the distant hum of the bar below. Anxiety gnawed at him as he stepped into a corridor cluttered with refuse, the air thick and foul as an oolghar’s armpit. At the end was a plastiglass door.

He would make it—assuming, of course, the controls still worked.

Just a few meters from the exit, Kyle edged past an inactive antigrav well. In the near-total darkness, its shadowy outline resembled a gaping skull. As he reached the door’s control panel, a faint noise came from behind. He spun around instantly, weapon drawn, but saw only darkness. His pulse raced.

Kyle was activating the door controls when a chilling, grating laugh echoed through the corridor—like a blade scraping against stone.

“Hello, Tokalau! Where do you think you’re going?”

A long, sinewy tentacle flashed from the darkness and tightened around his throat.

Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240

June 23rd, 666 GE

Lying on the moss-covered floor, Uful’lan Siirt was bored to death.

He had already raided the pantry to pass the time, but as usual, sitting idly wasn’t his strong suit. Restless, he began pacing around quietly, wings tucked carefully behind his back.

He wondered what Twiglet was up to.

She was still chatting with that silly machine. Curious, he approached a shelf stacked with ancient paper books. He’d never seen so many in one place, so he leaned in closer to examine their titles: Darker than You Think, Werewolves: A History of Lycanthropy, Cat People… Strange reading choices for a mahjit from Shing-Na. Intrigued, he reached out to grab one of the volumes when—

“Ouch!” A sharp crackle shot through his fingers, causing him to jerk back in pain.

“What are you doing, Uful’lan?” Twiglet asked sharply.

The k’rell sucked his stinging fingertips. “You’ve goth an energy field!”

“What did you expect?” Twiglet retorted. “I can’t have my treasures collecting dust. If you want to browse, there’s a switch under the shelf.”

She turned back to the blinking robotic eye. “That’ll be all for tonight, OCC.”

“FINE, DOCTOR. DO YOU MIND IF I TURN MYSELF OFF?”

“No, go ahead.”

“THANK YOU, DOCTOR. SEE YOU LATER!”

Twiglet stood up stiffly, rubbing her sore back. “How about dinner?”

“Eh… well… Thwigleth, thhere’ss ssomethhing I mussth thell you…”

“You already raided the fridge, I know,” the mahjit sighed. “I just hope you left something for me.”

Dabih Major, coordinates 46.880/+05.453/120.750

June 23rd, 666 GE

Kyle recognized that laugh instantly.

“Just hand over that credit chip, and maybe I’ll kill you quickly.”

It was Nagatomo’s insectoid henchman.

Kyle struggled desperately, trying to break free. His only chance was the blaster still gripped tightly in his hand. If he could manage to aim… but he’d have only one chance. A second try was impossible.

He needed to buy some time.

“The ch…ip…” Kyle gasped, slowly extending the small device toward the insectoid.

Something foul brushed against his left hand. That was his chance! He swiftly raised his other hand, struggling to level his weapon, but—

Too late.

Another tentacle snapped around Kyle’s wrist, tightening painfully until he felt his bones creak. He screamed as the blaster fell from his numbed fingers.

“Forget it, you moron. I’m too smart for you,” hissed the insectoid triumphantly. “You can’t imagine how pleased Nagatomo will be. I’ll earn quite the reward for this.”

It was over. Kyle fought to stay conscious, but his thoughts were fading rapidly into darkness.

Suddenly, a brilliant flash of blue light burst forth from the shadows.

The stale air filled briefly with the sharp scent of ozone and an oddly appetizing aroma of grilled meat. The tentacles around Kyle’s neck and wrist loosened abruptly, then released him entirely as the charred remains of the insectoid dropped lifelessly to the floor with a heavy thud.

Kyle spun around, stunned, and faced his unexpected savior: a boy stood trembling, gripping the blaster tightly in both hands.

Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240

June 23rd, 666 GE

After a supper of nyctalis—the half-plant, half-insect parasites thriving on most Bageechan homes—Twiglet and Uful’lan moved into the living room. For a long moment, they sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts.

Twiglet placed a tray of still-warm inocybe mushrooms on a small table and poured generous measures of fine Tongaat brandy into their glasses.

She silently toasted her guest before lapsing again into a sullen silence. Uful’lan frowned, uncertain. He was accustomed to Twiglet’s mood swings, but something was definitely different tonight.

“Whath’ss thhe matther withh you, Thwigleth?” he finally asked.

Twiglet unrolled her long, forked tongue in irritation.

“The matter? Humph! That’s just it—I don’t know. And that’s precisely why I’m worried.”

“It’ss ssomethhing thhe probe thold you, issn’th ith? And whath abouth my thrapss?”

Twiglet’s fiery eyes narrowed suspiciously. After a brief pause, she sighed.

“Well… I suppose I can trust you,” she said reluctantly. “After all, you’re the closest thing to a friend I have left. But it’s a long, complicated story, and I hardly know where to begin.”

“Well,” Uful’lan suggested gently, “when I wass a kid on Kyyaal, my grandma ussed tho ssay: ‘Begin from thhe beginning and go on thill the end; thhen ssthop.’”

Twiglet laughed softly, shaking her head.

“I seriously doubt your grandma ever told you that, Uful’lan. Unless I’m mistaken, that’s a quote from Lewis Carroll, a pre-Expansion earthling writer.”

“Oh, grandma had a real tassthe for earthhlingss!” Uful’lan replied earnestly. “During thhe war, she athe a couple of thhem who—” He broke off suddenly, noticing Twiglet’s sharp glare. “Ah, but I guessss you don’th wanth tho hear abouth thhat. Sso, were you abouth tho ssay ssomethhing important?”

She snorted.

“Maybe, if you’d just keep your mouth shut!”

“Ssorry, Thwigleth!”

“Oh, never mind. Let’s get to the point. Do you know what the Holroyd Society is?”

“Holroyd… Hmm.” Uful’lan paused, frowning in concentration. “Ith playss in ssecond league, doessn’th ith?”

“No, I’m not talking about a football team,” Twiglet interrupted impatiently. “The Holroyd Society is—or rather, was—a synchronic research institute. Before the war, I worked for them.”

“Aha,” Uful’lan said uncertainly. “Ssyc… ssyinc… ssrrynchr…?”

“My colleagues and I,” Twiglet continued, ignoring his struggles, “gathered information from the Hyperweb—everything we could find.”

Uful’lan looked puzzled and helped himself to another handful of inocybe.

“We focused on improbable yet verified events: strange disappearances, unexplained disasters, bizarre crimes that defied explanation—little-known facts nobody seemed willing to acknowledge openly. These phenomena are called ‘synchronicities,’ or ‘excessive coincidences.’” Twiglet paused briefly, sipping her brandy. “We used this data to calibrate the free parameters in the Holroyd equations.”

“Hey, hey! Waith…” Uful’lan mumbled through a full mouth.

“You’re right, sorry. Let me explain.” Twiglet took a deep breath. “This information allowed us to predict large-scale future events with exceptional accuracy. The Holroyd Society got its name from its founder, the human who first introduced synchro-complex analysis.”

“Oh! Doess thhath mean you could predicth thingss like… thhe day of your deathh, or… which foothball theam wass going tho win thhe inthergalacthic championsship?”

Twiglet smiled. “No, nothing so specific. Holroyd equations only apply on a large scale. They predict significant social disruptions—economic recessions, planetary conflicts, mass migrations, events of that nature. However, they do allow us to identify areas where crises are likely to emerge. For several centuries after its founding, the Society regularly collaborated with the imperial government on social and economic policy planning.”

“Ssoundss… mmfgh… greath!” Uful’lan said, noisily crunching on a mouthful of nyctalis.

Twiglet wrinkled her nose in disgust, her tongue unrolling involuntarily.

“Then, three centuries ago, the Holroyd Society was forced underground.”

“Ssecreth? Why?”

“To protect itself from a ruthless adversary—a force so malevolent it wouldn’t hesitate to wipe us out entirely. We discovered their existence almost by accident,” Twiglet explained, pouring herself more brandy. “Through synchro-complex analysis, we uncovered the conspiracies of an ancient and dangerous clan. Its followers call themselves Apostles, and they’re responsible for many of the Galaxy’s worst catastrophes and bloodiest atrocities.” She hesitated. “We even suspect the K’rell War itself had an occult origin.”

Dabih Major, coordinates 46.880/+05.453/120.750

June 23rd, 666 GE

“Who… who the hell… are you?” Kyle stammered, astonished.

The newcomer—a slender, nervous-looking boy—appeared even more confused than Kyle himself. He backed away cautiously, casting anxious glances over his shoulder.

Footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.

“The chip!” Kyle suddenly remembered, panic rising in his chest. The insectoid must still have it. He quickly dropped to his knees, desperately searching the creature’s charred body, but darkness and grime made it impossible.

“Where is it? I can’t—oh, damn it!” Kyle cursed. “That was my generator money!”

“Someone’s coming!” the boy urged. “We need to get out of here!”

He was right. Forgetting about the credits, Kyle turned to survival.

“Give me the blaster!” Snatching the weapon, Kyle shot the door controls and tried to pry it open. The approaching footsteps grew louder. He fired two quick blasts down the hallway, hearing scuffling followed by a sharp voice.

“Hand over the money, Tokalau! We won’t hurt you!”

Nagatomo’s blonde lieutenant. She wasn’t alone.

“Come and get it, honey!” Kyle shouted defiantly, finally wrenching open the damaged door. He squeezed through the narrow gap, stepping onto one of the suspension bridges. The boy scrambled after him.

Immediately, they were lashed by a fierce storm of wind and rain. Kyle instinctively ducked, pulling the boy down as well. Laser blasts scorched a large hole into the wall above their heads. They quickly rose and attempted to run, but Kyle stopped short, eyes widening in despair.

He had walked straight into a trap.

A few meters ahead, the bridge abruptly ended. Beyond lay nothing but a gaping abyss. Only a handful of rusted metal beams hung uselessly in midair, bridging a gap at least six meters wide—impossible to leap.

Behind them, Nagatomo’s thugs wrestled with the jammed door, but they’d be through any moment. Kyle peered downward. The drop was easily fifteen meters—certain suicide under normal circumstances. But he noticed the alley below was piled deep with garbage, a wet, filthy cushion that might break their fall.

With no other choice, he grabbed the boy’s arm.

“Jump!” he yelled urgently.

They plunged downward together.

Kyle sank waist-deep into the sludge. Frantically, he struggled to free himself, but the heavy rain had turned the garbage into quicksand. Each attempt only sucked him deeper. The boy wasn’t faring any better, struggling nearby to keep his head above the foul muck.

Laser fire flashed through the darkness, wild shots piercing the rain. Even with low visibility, Kyle knew their pursuers wouldn’t give up. Soon enough, one of Nagatomo’s henchmen would risk the jump to continue the chase.

Determined, Kyle thrust himself upwards, finally feeling something solid beneath his foot. He lunged toward it, and after what felt like an eternity, hauled himself onto a large, solid piece of wreckage. To his relief, he saw the main street wasn’t far—just a little further and they’d reach safety.

Suddenly, panic gripped him again.

“The boy!”

Kyle spun around, desperately scanning the gloom. Nothing. Then, amid the shadows, he spotted movement. The boy was struggling helplessly, trying to tear some slimy, tentacle-like creature off his face. Reacting swiftly, Kyle stripped off his jacket, tying one sleeve securely around a protruding metal beam. Wading into the filth, he reached the boy and pulled him free.

They had barely climbed to safety when they heard a heavy thud—one of Nagatomo’s henchmen had finally jumped down after them.

Kyle quickly set the blaster to low intensity and fired at the shapeless parasite. The creature writhed and squealed as Kyle, fighting back nausea, grasped it between two fingers and hurled it toward their pursuer. The thug shrieked as the slimy creature struck him squarely in the face, sending him sprawling helplessly into the mud.

Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240

June 23rd, 666 GE

“Are you joking?” Uful’lan had lost his appetite again.

“Of course not. The K’rell War began after your people’s space cruisers vaporized Tyndall IX, the Empire’s main strategic base.”

“Hey, waith a minuthe… we had tho fighth for ourselvess! Thhath crazy Rhodon IV and hiss human governmenth wanthed tho wipe uss outh!”

Agitated, Uful’lan spread his wings wide, accidentally knocking over a nearby object.

“Come on, Uful’lan, be careful!” Twiglet scolded. “Why do you always pick on my poor house? Anyway, let me finish. The conflict began because the K’rell attacked Tyndall IX, believing the Empire was preparing to invade their territory. But ask yourself: who provided your intelligence services with such misleading information?”

It was the most incredible story Uful’lan had ever heard, yet he didn’t feel like contradicting the mahjit.

“Are you ssaying thhese Aposthless ssparked off thhe war… on purposse?”

Twiglet didn’t reply immediately; she just nodded slowly.

“Buth… buth… are thhey humanss? Earthhlingss?”

“In a sense, yes. At first glance, they’re indistinguishable from ordinary humans. It takes a DNA test to confirm their identity. They’re unlike any enemy we’ve faced—more treacherous, harder to detect. Anyone could be one of them, even humans we trust and call friends.”

“I don’th have any human friendss,” Uful’lan remarked dryly.

Ignoring the comment, Twiglet continued. “Thousands of years ago, at the dawn of human civilization, beings of unknown origin invaded Earth. Strangely enough, these invaders and humans were genetically compatible, eventually producing hybrids. Over time, pure-blooded humans disappeared entirely, along with almost all evidence of the original invasion. Only faint echoes survived, transformed into legends about ‘werewolves’—humans who could transform into beasts.”

“That explainss a lot,” thought Uful’lan privately. “Twigleth hass clearly read too many of thosse sstupid earthhling bookss…”

His hunger suddenly returned, but Twiglet pressed on relentlessly.

“Nowadays,” she explained, “most humans have only traces of lycanthropic genes. Still, the heritage of those invaders lives on in their basest instincts, and occasionally, recessive traits reappear. Each generation sees some human children born with significant lycanthropic ancestry—though most remain unaware of it. These individuals usually exhibit psychic abilities above average, sometimes using them unconsciously. For them, good and evil are dangerously intertwined.”

“Buth if thhey’re noth aware—”

“I was coming to that. Those with less than twenty-five percent human blood—almost pure werewolves—are fully aware of their identity. In ancient times, humans hunted and killed them, but now they live freely, blending seamlessly into galactic civilization.”

Uful’lan opened his mouth wide in astonishment. “Buth… whath abouth your sscienthisth friendss? Couldn’th thhey do ssomethhing abouth ith?”

“And do what? Broadcast it on holo-vid? Launch a purge against Earthlings? Trigger another civil war? I’ve had enough of wars, Uful’lan. Besides, not every human is a monster. Those who truly are malicious know how to hide their nature. The Holroyd Society repeatedly tried alerting the imperial government about the Apostles’ secret agenda.”

“And?”

Twiglet sighed deeply. “The only leader who took any meaningful action was Emperor Rhodon IV—who, despite what most believe, was a wiser statesman than history acknowledges. He even passed secret regulations limiting lycanthropic genetic presence among public office applicants to five percent. Yet, we know an unknown number bypass these controls through bribery and corruption.”

Twiglet finished her brandy and stood up.

“You know what, Uful’lan? I’m exhausted.”

“Thhere’ss one thhing you didn’th thell me,” Uful’lan persisted, staring at her closely.

She gave him a weary glance. “What?”

“Why are you sscared?”

Twiglet unrolled her tongue nervously. “Today, when I went to the emporium, Jiali Salgado mentioned two humans asking suspicious questions. At first, I didn’t think much of it. But then you arrived, talking about your disarmed traps…” She sighed heavily. “We still don’t fully understand the full extent of lycanthropic powers, but one thing we do know: they can interfere with devices powered by Zero Point Energy.”

“Jussth like my thrapss!”

Twiglet nodded gravely. “Exactly. If those two visitors were werewolves, they might have scrambled your traps simply by passing nearby.” She shook her head, dispelling troubling thoughts. “But there’s no point worrying about it now. Tomorrow I’ll speak with old Peg. She knows much more about these matters than I do.”

Twiglet started up the winding staircase.

“Ah, Thwigleth, would you mind if—”

“Yes, Uful’lan, you can sleep in my living room,” Twiglet said, resigned. “It can’t possibly get any worse.”

Dabih Major, coordinates 46.880/+05.453/120.750

June 23rd, 666 GE

To Kyle’s great relief, the street behind the Onkalo was deserted.

Maybe Nagatomo had forgotten to post guards on this side—but they’d be wise not to count on it. Kyle wasn’t in the mood for another nasty surprise.

The kid looked alright, though he could barely stay on his feet. Kyle gave him a nod, and together they slipped away into the rain-soaked night.

Several blocks later, they ducked into a narrow alcove to catch their breath.

“Damn, that was close,” Kyle gasped, trying to shield himself from the worst of the storm. “All that trouble—for nothing!” He turned to the boy. “How are you holding up? Still breathing?”

“I… think so.”

The boy’s voice was strange—thin, almost metallic. Kyle, intrigued, waited for the next flash of lightning to get a better look.

“Have we met before?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. The boy was slighter than he’d first thought—barely reaching his shoulder—with slanted blue eyes and a shaved head, just like…

“A synth! That’s what you are—one of Nagatomo’s!”

In a flash, Kyle grabbed him by the neck and shoved him against the wall.

“You were in that hallway. Were you following me?”

“Don’t… hurt me,” the synth stammered. “I saved… you… remember?”

Kyle stared, then slowly released his grip.

“You didn’t answer,” he pressed. “Were you sent after me?”

“You’re right. I belong to Nagatomo. But I wasn’t following you.”

“Oh, really? Forgive me if I’m not reassured.”

The synth pulled her soaked rags tighter around her shoulders.

“I was running,” she said quietly, after a pause.

“Running? From what?”

“From Nagatomo and his crew. If they catch me, they’ll kill me. I… disobeyed his orders. He wanted me to let the lycoperdon win, but I didn’t. I wanted to live. So… I won.”

She glanced at Kyle anxiously. “Did I say something wrong? Why are you staring?”

Kyle couldn’t help himself. Even with his wrist throbbing and exhaustion dragging him down, he laughed.

“Well, well—surprise, surprise. You’re a girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, wary. “Why?”

“I remember tonight’s fight. The lycoperdon was huge. No offense, but I wouldn’t have bet half a credit on you.”

“Gender has nothing to do with mental performance,” she snapped. “Nagatomo made more money off me than from—”

“Okay, okay,” Kyle said, holding up a hand. “Didn’t mean to insult your neural circuits. I’m sure you’ve got a top-tier brain. What generation are you, anyway?”

“I wish I knew,” she said. “Nagatomo bought me off the black market and wiped my memory.”

That caught Kyle’s attention. An idea was beginning to form.

“So… right now, you’re out of options. And I just lost five thousand credits. But maybe—just maybe—we can help each other.”

“I don’t understand,” the synth said, frowning.

“Never mind. We’ll get to that. What’s your name?”

“I didn’t say. It’s Shirl.”

“Well, Shirl,” Kyle said, straightening with a grin, “I’m Kyle Tokalau—captain, owner, and sole crew member—aside from a one-eyed cat—of the starship Aranui. Let’s find somewhere dry to clean up, and I’ll tell you all about my brilliant idea.”

Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240

June 23rd, 666 GE

Twiglet washed before going to bed.

In her bedroom, she knelt to chant a prayer in her mother tongue, while the house gently filled the air with soft, enchanting music. Normally, that melody had a soothing, almost hypnotic effect. But not tonight.

She undressed and slipped under the blankets, curling up tight. Outside, the shrieks of nocturnal creatures echoed—hunting, fighting, mating, or who knew what else. Most settlers on Bageechaa had learned not to dwell on what happened in the forest after dark.

One would have to be insane to wander the forest at this hour, she thought.

Or a werewolf.

She shut her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep.

She hadn’t told Uful’lan the real reason she’d left the Holroyd Society. Even after fourteen years, the memory still ached.

She reached out and touched the wall. The music stopped, replaced by the subtle whispering of the house’s living structure, its slow pulse like the breathing of some great, gentle beast.

Months before the war, Twiglet had modified the Holroyd equations by adding a constant—one that accounted for a disturbing trend she had begun to notice. There seemed to be an increasing pattern in the distribution of malevolent events across the Galaxy. Too many recent catastrophes couldn’t be explained away by chance, destiny, or misfortune.

There was a hidden logic behind them. A will.

The constant she introduced was meant to reflect this influence—a presence, invisible but tangible.

The results of the synchro-complex analysis had been chilling: on September 11th, 652 G.E., the integrated catastrophic probability was projected to reach 99.8%, with localized spikes of 99.9% and 100% near Khyyaal—the K’rell homeworld—and Tyndall IX, respectively.

Twiglet had foreseen the war. Months before it erupted.

Naturally, she had brought her findings to an emergency meeting of the Society Council and urged them to alert the Emperor.

But they hadn’t listened.

Instead, they branded her a fraud, accused her of incompetence and dishonesty. Within a week, she was dismissed, forced to gather her things and leave Holroyd Headquarters in disgrace.

Even now, Twiglet couldn’t help wondering: Why had they been so eager to get rid of her?

The Apostles.

Had they infiltrated the very guardians of galactic civilization?

Despite the warmth of her blanket, Twiglet shivered.

THE EMPIRE CAN WAIT – CHAPTER 1, PART 1

On By AlessandraIn Books, My Novels, Sci-Fi, Uncategorized, WritingLeave a comment

Here’s Chapter 1, Part 1 of my space opera with werewolves.

The Prologue is available here.

CHAPTER 1: AWAKENINGS

The room was not a room to elevate the soul.

Louis the XIV, to pick up a name at random, would not have liked it,

would have found it not sunny enough, and insufficiently full of mirrors.

(Douglas Adams, The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul,

Pocket Books, New York 1990, p. 24)

Dabih Major, coordinates 46.888/+05.453/120.750

June 23rd, 666 GE

On board the Aranui, Kyle dreamed he was home with Amaranta Sweetlips and the girls. It felt comforting to revisit his childhood through dreams. Before the liver implant forced him to stop, a dose of Xetor was enough to induce those memories. Now, he depended solely on chance.

As always, his dream shattered when a dozen pounds of mewing fur landed heavily on his stomach.

“Uff! Wolfram! Couldn’t you let me sleep just once?”

His mind was wrapped in thick fog. Something about the metallic, stretched quality of the light told him it was afternoon. He tried to sit, propping himself up on an elbow, but a splitting headache immediately forced him back down. “I was thinking of staying in bed for a—” he started to say, but nausea propelled him quickly out of bed, stumbling towards the ship’s cramped bathroom.

Bad mornings had become the norm since he’d lost his job a few weeks earlier. Another sharp cramp gripped him as he reached the bathroom door. Sweat formed on his brow as he clung to the doorframe.

Damn… What happened last night?

Maybe it was a fever. Hastily, he felt around his neck for the reassuring presence of his amulet. God forbid he had fallen asleep without it.

Another painful cramp twisted his stomach, and dizziness overtook him. He collapsed onto the floor, barely raising his head in time before retching violently.

“Miaow!” Wolfram’s mewing carried a note of concern.

“I know, I know—you want your breakfast. As soon as I’m done dying, okay?”

Slowly, the cramps eased, and the nausea receded. Gathering strength, he counted to three and pulled himself upright. He flushed the toilet, rinsed his mouth with the foul-tasting Dabih City water, and nearly gagged again. Frustrated, he tapped an icon at the mirror’s edge repeatedly. Nothing happened—the floor slot that usually released cleaning droids remained stubbornly shut. Sighing, he cleaned the mess as best he could with toilet paper and a washcloth, then stood numbly beneath the shower’s scalding spray.

Dragging himself to the galley, Wolfram close behind, Kyle surveyed the chaos: dirty dishes piled high, food debris covering every surface, garbage strewn across the floor, and a fridge nurturing new lifeforms. A dusty cabinet hung ajar, revealing the forgotten remains of a servo droid he’d never bothered to repair.

He opened a broken cupboard and pulled out one of the last few cans.

“Bad news, old boy. We’re nearly out of emergency rations. If we don’t find a gig soon…” He placed the opened can next to Wolfram’s grubby bed, then ordered a triple coffee from the battered Cookomat.

“FINALLY!” a crisp, metallic female voice greeted him sarcastically. “WELCOME BACK TO THE LAND OF THE LIVING!”

“Oh no!” Kyle moaned, covering his ears. “Not so loud! Are you trying to split my skull?”

“WHAT AN EXEMPLARY CAPTAIN! WHILE YOU NURSED YOUR HANGOVER, I’VE BEEN BUSY DOING WHAT YOU SHOULD’VE DONE. WE’RE BROKE AND JOBLESS, IN CASE YOU FORGOT.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault we had trouble on Nashira!”

“REALLY?” the ship’s voice mocked. “IT’S NEVER YOUR FAULT, YET WE’RE ALWAYS IN TROUBLE. YOU DRANK AWAY OUR LAST CREDITS, DIDN’T YOU?”

A hazy memory stirred in Kyle’s mind.

“Are you crazy?” he protested weakly. “I was looking for a hire! Made some good contacts, and with a little luck—”

“DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A FOOL? STOP BLATHERING AND LISTEN: WE’VE GOT A GOVERNMENT CONTRACT.”

Kyle nearly choked on his coffee.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE! WHILE YOU WASTED TIME, I CONTACTED ARAL MOHS.”

“Oh, great! You miserable heap of scrap, Aral and I fell out years ago. He’d never respond—not in a thousand years.”

“WELL, HE DID,” the Aranui declared triumphantly. “HIS VIDEO MESSAGE ARRIVED JUST MINUTES AGO.”

“Damn! Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Kyle hurriedly stumbled toward the bridge, half-running, half-walking. Settling into the engineering seat amid displays of ship diagnostics, he gulped down the last coffee.

“Put it on, quick!”

“Kyle, you silly moron…” The visual had not yet materialized; only transmission codes blinked on the screen.

FROM: ARAL J. MOHS
TO: KYLE TOKALAU
Subject: Still alive

“I thought you were dead or locked away in some Imperial prison!” Aral’s familiar face appeared, handsome as ever, in a pristine Space Force captain’s uniform.

Kyle smirked bitterly. Aral was precisely as he remembered from their fighter pilot days.

“No kidding! Good to hear from you,” Aral continued warmly. “Weema will be thrilled! She’d never admit it, but I know she’s missed you as much as I have. So many changes, Kyle. We’ve got three kids now—two girls and a boy. What about you? Let me guess: still wild and unattached? Trust me, friend, you’re missing out! We’re not getting younger; it’s time to settle down. Enough partying!”

Kyle swore softly. “Always the critic, huh?”

“Listen, Kyle—you need a proper job, and I can help. The government is privatizing freight runs to border garrisons. Many freelancers are scrambling for work, but I can vouch for you. Assuming you still have your piloting chops, the job’s yours. If you’re even a fraction of the man I remember, come to New Xanadu within a week.”

Aral glanced away briefly. “That’s it. Budget cuts restrict our subspace calls. Come visit—we’ll catch up over dinner.”

The message ended, replaced by the pulsating Horitzò Inc. logo.

“SHALL I SEND A REPLY?” the computer asked.

“No. Too expensive from here.”

Kyle leaned back, memories flooding him—mostly unpleasant. Aral was more of a rival than a friend: a colleague, betrayer, and girlfriend-stealer. Still, Kyle was desperate. Word of the Nashira incident had spread, leaving him stranded professionally. New Xanadu offered fresh opportunities.

“Can we reach New Xanadu in five days?”

“FINALLY!” the computer exulted. “I FEARED WE’D ROT HERE. YES, BUT WE’LL NEED EXTRA FUEL.”

“Chart the cheapest route and prepare a systems report.”

He turned. Wolfram stared expectantly, his single blue eye glinting intelligently; the other, a mismatched yellow bionic replacement bought from an Optalidon III merchant after a nasty fight.

“Cheer up, kitty! Once I’m employed, you’ll get a proper eye.”

“WE’VE GOT A PROBLEM,” the Aranui announced gravely.

Kyle felt his stomach twist again. “What’s wrong now?”

“THE HYPER-STRING GENERATOR.”

A series of nightmares flashed through Kyle’s mind: missing Aral’s offer, endless unemployment, customs inspectors—and, worst of all, begging Amaranta Sweetlips for a loan.

“Again?” he groaned. “I installed a replacement six months ago.”

“A THIRD-HAND, BARELY COMPATIBLE PIECE OF JUNK RIDDLED WITH VIRUSES THAT PLAGUED MY CIRCUITS FOR WEEKS.”

“It was all I could afford,” he snapped.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT A DECENT ONE EARLIER. NOW WE’RE STUCK ON THIS DISGUSTING PLANET!”

“Shut up!” Kyle growled. “You sound like my mother.”

He wondered bitterly who’d thought intelligent ship computers were a good idea.

“Another word, and I’ll sell you for scrap,” he threatened.

Silence fell.

Gritting his teeth, Kyle headed to the engine room.

This isn’t fair—not after such a promising start.

Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240

June 23rd, 666 GE

Fig.1: Twiglet’s house on Bageechaa.

Few human buildings remained on Bageechaa. Besides the small spaceport and a modest tavern, only Madame Salgado’s Emporium stood as a reminder that the distant moon of Gienah VI had once flourished as a bustling mining settlement. That prosperity vanished during the Great and Terrible War and the subsequent K’rell invasion, forcing the few surviving colonists to flee. In their absence, the jungle swiftly reclaimed its territory.

Madame Salgado had recently returned to Bageechaa, determined to revive her former enterprise, but success was elusive. Her dusty shelves offered little to attract the scarce visitors. Twiglet Skunks was an infrequent customer, though she didn’t expect much. Today, she’d found a box of second-hand hyper-dimensional wirings and a chocolate Krugg bar, only slightly past its expiration.

Approaching the checkout, Twiglet saw Jiali Salgado perched behind a counter on a stool too tall for her human-sized legs. Twiglet guessed the seat was intended for the haggard Palernian, who occasionally helped on busier Saturdays. An outdated holo-vid displayed news in the background, Chancellor Volker Chang’s smiling face filling the screen as a voice-over recited his recent speech to the Imperial Senate.

“Don’t you think Chancellor Chang is charming?” Jiali asked absently, eyes glued to the screen.

“I’ve no idea, Madame Salgado,” Twiglet replied. “Human aesthetics aren’t my expertise.”

“Oh…” Jiali turned slowly, momentarily confused, until she remembered to look downward. “Twiglet! I didn’t hear you come in,” she said with barely concealed disdain. Her cobalt blue hair was tied into a tight bun, and her face was a tapestry of wrinkles, deepening around her eyes. “What do you have for me this time?”

“Mag Moor roots. Perfect for anti-aging creams.”

Twiglet opened her backpack, revealing a small bundle. Madame Salgado grabbed it hesitantly, still uncomfortable dealing with the two-and-a-half-foot-tall, green-skinned alien. Twiglet was well aware of the shopkeeper’s poorly disguised prejudice, which she found absurd. To restore her shop’s pre-war success, Jiali should have been eager to serve all customers, not just the humans who now made up a fraction of Bageechaa’s residents. Still, Twiglet maintained a cordial relationship with Jiali Salgado—frequent trades between them kept her from complete poverty. Recently, the shopkeeper had developed a keen interest in medicinal herbs; few residents of Bageechaa could afford genuine doctors, let alone rejuvenation treatments.

Twiglet was about to promote the extraordinary mushrooms she’d discovered deep in the jungle—she’d soon need more supplies—when she realized Jiali’s full attention had returned to the holo-vid.

Time to play along, Twiglet thought.

“Anything interesting on the news?” she asked casually.

“Humph! Nothing new: Chancellor Chang claims an economic recovery is imminent, another liner vanished in hyperspace, robberies, murders… just the usual.”

“And what about the imperial family? Or what’s left of it, anyway.”

“Princess Virginia?” Jiali’s expression soured. “Dark times await us.”

“Why? Isn’t she about to come of age?”

“She’s already twenty-one, and Coronation Day is merely months away. Since her parents died, she’s done nothing but indulge herself at taxpayer expense. Frankly, I doubt she’s fit to rule.” Jiali leaned conspiratorially closer. “Instead of addressing poverty, economic collapse, rising crime, and the ever-present K’rell threat, she’s more interested in changing lovers than we are in changing clothes.”

“Come now, Madame Salgado. That’s just gossip.”

“Gossip? Hardly! Galaxy Today reported that over seventy percent of Milky Way citizens believe her irresponsible behavior endangers the monarchy. And do you know what else I think?”

“Please, enlighten me,” Twiglet said patiently, having heard these sentiments countless times.

“In troubled times like these, we need a strong leader to restore greatness to the Empire…”

“Someone like Chancellor Chang, perhaps?”

Madame Salgado caught the note of irony.

“Why not?” she snapped defensively. “Of all the fools in the Senate, he’s the only one with real backbone. If they’d let him work without endlessly questioning his every move…”

“Maybe, Madame Salgado, maybe,” Twiglet conceded diplomatically. Privately, she distrusted Volker Chang—not because he was human, but perhaps due to his perpetually artificial smile.

The news ended abruptly, replaced by holographic Alshain flying flowers and an enthusiastic voice promoting Alshain as a planet “where anything is possible.” Realizing it was nearly sundown, Twiglet gathered her modest purchases and postponed mentioning the mushrooms.

“Goodbye, Madame Salgado. Always a pleasure.”

“Hm, Twiglet… wait!”

“Yes?”

“Almost forgot—two humans came by looking for you.”

“Humans? Looking for me?”

“Two off-worlders. It might’ve been cops, though they didn’t look it. Arrived on yesterday’s shuttle, asked a lot of questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Oh, the usual: who’s living in the forest and how long they’ve been there. But I sensed that wasn’t their real interest. When I told them to stop wasting my time, they asked specifically if any mahjitans lived on Bageechaa.”

“What did you tell them?” Twiglet asked cautiously.

“Those men gave me the creeps.” Madame Salgado attempted a reassuring smile. “I’ve seen plenty of oddities in my day, but these two were… stranger. I said Bageechaa has too many aliens to recall each one. I’m getting older, after all, and my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

Coming from Jiali Salgado, this admission was astonishing.

“Thank you, Madame Salgado. I owe you one.”

It was growing dark, the sky painted in shades of gold and purple. Twiglet took a path bordered by enormous fungoid trees, a route leading her home deep within the jungle in less than two hours. Crossing Bageechaa’s forests was notoriously perilous—not just because of the hostile terrain or frequent accidents befalling travelers, human and alien alike. Strange magic seemed to envelop the entire moon; or perhaps, Twiglet mused, it wasn’t magic at all, but an instability—a hidden flaw working its way to the surface.

Twiglet felt the subtle tug of that instability as she moved from St Ghastly Grim’s Gate—the moon’s tiny spaceport—toward Agaricus Cove. Miraculously, the black gravel path remained clear of encroaching vegetation despite its infrequent use. The fungoid trees above dripped remnants of last night’s rain onto fern leaves already heavy with crystalline droplets. The air felt fresh, charged with vitality. Vividly colored flowers bloomed invitingly, their fragrances drifting through the morning mist as though tempting unwary visitors to stray from safety into the jungle’s embrace.

The dense underbrush teemed with life, most lethal to occasional passers-by and other creatures. A beautiful striped yanaatjie landed gracefully on the petals of a crimson anemone, which abruptly snapped shut. Nearby, a mutant tarantula, nearly as large as Twiglet’s head, shifted to a vivid yellow to blend seamlessly into the foliage. Its delicate web stretched across the path, glittering with tiny droplets and forcing Twiglet to duck carefully beneath it. A green tree rabbit struggled helplessly in the web’s sticky threads, but the spider appeared indifferent to its plight.

Twiglet suppressed a shudder as she crouched lower. Despite more than ten years of traversing Bageechaa’s green hell, she’d never grown entirely comfortable with its dangers. Yet today, her usual caution was heightened by the unsettling news she’d received from Jiali Salgado.

Who were those humans, and why were they looking for mahjitans?

Twiglet knew she was the only mahjitan on Bageechaa. Were they looking for her specifically? And why?

A troubling sense of unease settled over her. It wasn’t just Jiali’s words, though Twiglet hardly trusted the shopkeeper. But if the visitors had friendly intentions, why hadn’t they mentioned her by name?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shriek of terror.

“Yaw! Yaw! Uyariy! Yanapaway!”

A blurred, frantic shape burst from the foliage, pursued closely by the snapping jaws of a glykz. Twiglet reacted instinctively, her tongue darting with lightning speed, capturing the fleeing creature’s furry body. With practiced precision, she cracked open its thick exoskeleton with her powerful jaws, savoring the slightly acidic blood as she swallowed.

After discarding the inedible remains, Twiglet continued along the path. From the lower branches of a nearby tree, a tiny fairy—the creature she’d just rescued from certain doom—waved enthusiastically, offering a heartfelt farewell.

Dabih Major, coordinates 46.888/+05.453/120.750

June 23rd, 666 GE

Fig.2: Kyle in front of the Onkalo.

Like many establishments near the spaceport, the Onkalo was ideal for conducting illicit business.

Kyle had come to meet his previous employer, a minor figure in Dabih’s criminal underworld. As he exited the taxi, he drew the plush collar of his outdated jacket tightly around his neck. The weather was foul—cold, windy, and rainy, with forecasts predicting a storm of unusual severity.

Checking his blaster’s charge, Kyle crossed the muddy alley leading to the club entrance, where he was immediately assaulted by deafening noise. Inside, the dim, smoky room overflowed with an eclectic crowd. Some patrons wore gas tanks and anti-gravity units simulating their native environments, while others eagerly inhaled the noxious air through open helmets. Humans and humanoids mingled freely with furry, scaly, and wrinkled aliens, their mixed conversations—Basic and alien tongues—merging into an indecipherable din.

Kyle sat at the bar and ordered a beer from a servo droid, surveying his surroundings as he drank. In a corner, an X-rated film featuring Spica V jellyfish played on a flickering holo-screen. Opposite, an arched doorway opened into a larger hall hosting Onkalo’s main attraction: cyber-boxing, complete with enthusiastic betting. Kyle had little interest in the matches; his meager funds didn’t permit even the smallest wager—not with the urgent need for a new generator for the Aranui. Besides, he suspected that Rosie Gallows, the club’s manager, and her associates in the local mob regularly rigged the outcomes. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to glance into the arena, as his ex-boss often frequented it.

Inside, darkness prevailed, broken only by flickering holograms. The scoreboard glowed brightly, indicating the current champion: a T. Rex avatar victorious in the last fourteen bouts. As Kyle watched, the dinosaur sank its enormous teeth into the neck of a wounded Shandaloon multiped, which had already lost three of its eight legs. The crowd erupted into cheers as the multiped’s agonized roars faded into silence, leaving its body in a pool of shimmering blue blood.

The holograms vanished abruptly, lights illuminating the hall as applause filled the air—a cacophony of hands, claws, feet, and appendages of every shape imaginable. Amid the excited spectators, Kyle searched in vain for his former employer. Meanwhile, the real victor—a battered yet sturdy humanoid synth controlling the T. Rex avatar—emerged triumphantly from his glass booth. Nearby, servodroids struggled to extract the lifeless body of a furry alien from Ophiucus, blood dripping from its mouth and ears.

Abandoning his search, Kyle turned toward the bar as anticipation built for the evening’s highlight match. Two new contestants prepared for battle: a Lycoperdon from Pluteus IX, its jagged fangs and black-greenish scales gleaming menacingly, and an unusual, youthful-looking human synth. Short and slender, with enormous blue eyes set in a perfect oval face, his head was shaved clean to facilitate the insertion of the cortical probes.

Fig.3: Kyle with Onkalo’s owner Jiali Salgado.

“Kyle Tokalau! At last! Is it you?”

Rosie Gallows, owner of the Onkalo, surged toward him, enveloping him in a smothering embrace of sweaty, grayish flab. A humanoid from Delta Canis Major, Rosie was so large that she relied on concealed antigrav generators in her belt to hover inches above the ground.

“Aargh… Rosie… missed you too!” Kyle gasped, struggling to free himself. Once released, he forced a wide grin. “Rosie… you look great!”

She laughed heartily, baring a set of sharp fangs. “And you’re still the same charming liar.”

She seized his arm, examining him with lingering appreciation. “Kyle, darling, I’ve heard you’re in trouble. I didn’t expect you to show your face here again.”

Kyle’s gaze fell on Rosie’s chubby fingers, each adorned with glittering rings worth enough to buy dozens of generators.

“Unless,” she continued suggestively, “you’ve finally reconsidered my offer.”

She punctuated her words with a flirtatious gaze, her lacquered claws digging lightly into his skin. Kyle suppressed a shiver.

“Rosie, I’m… truly flattered,” he stammered uneasily. “But, as you pointed out, I’m in trouble. Maybe we can discuss it another time? Right now, I need to see Felix Nagatomo.”

Rosie’s lips twisted into an annoyed pout. “Felix? Really? You’d rather meet that old pirate than spend time with a gorgeous lady like me?” She turned sharply to a nearby servo droid. “Robbie! Contact Room 114. Tell Mister Nagatomo that Captain Tokalau is here!”

“Yes, Madam!”

Turning back to Kyle, Rosie forced a smile. “See? I never miss an opportunity to help an old friend.” Her smile shifted into a conspiratorial whisper. “Of course, we could be far more than friends. I could make you wealthy if you’d only—”

“Excuse me, Madam,” the droid interrupted politely. “Mr. Nagatomo will see the captain now.”

Rosie shot the droid a murderous glance.

“Thanks, Rosie!” Kyle quickly seized his chance to escape. “Sorry, but I really must go. We wouldn’t want to keep Felix waiting, would we? See you later!”

Without waiting for a reply, he hurried toward the back of the club and climbed the spiral staircase.

Back at the counter, Rosie spat furiously, “Robbie! You useless heap of scrap!”

Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240

June 23rd, 666 GE

When Twiglet arrived home, night had fallen.

Her house rested at the heart of a small lake, its irregular form highlighted by the reddish glow of Gienah VI. She paused a few yards away, standing completely still, listening intently. Only distant animal cries and the closer chirping of a monstrous insect disturbed the quiet night. Satisfied she hadn’t been followed, Twiglet located a particular flowering bush, its sweet fragrance unmistakable even in darkness, and carefully slipped beneath it.

A narrow tunnel, softly illuminated by the eerie luminescence of bioluminescent fungi, led her deep beneath the lake’s surface, eventually emerging into her living room.

But something felt wrong.

At first glance, the house appeared as peaceful and silent as ever. The familiar aroma of resin gently seeped from the home’s organic walls. Yet beneath it, a harsher, more intrusive smell abruptly assaulted her senses.

Someone had violated her sanctuary.

Someone large, fat—and distinctly unwashed.

Dabih Major, coordinates 46.888/+05.453/120.750

June 23rd, 666 GE

Kyle stepped off the staircase onto the first landing and entered a dimly lit hallway filled with unpleasant odors. He passed several closed doors, from behind which came muffled laughter, alien chatter, and occasional groans.

As the corridor turned sharply to the right, Kyle nearly collided with two tough-looking humans approaching from the opposite direction. One of them cast him a casual yet unsettling glance, causing the hairs on Kyle’s neck to rise. He slowed his pace, shaking his head. It was past time to leave this wretched planet. He couldn’t believe how edgy he’d become after just one beer.

Shortly afterward, he located room number 114 and pressed the doorbell. He realized the floor beneath his feet vibrated as the door slid open. The noise from downstairs had escalated into an overwhelming roar.

Bageechaa, coordinates 99.001/-55.447/1803.240

June 23rd 666 GE

“Who… who’s there?” Twiglet asked weakly.

Her only answer was a series of heavy thumps and muffled grunts, abruptly silenced when she found the light switch—a gentle yellow glow spread through the room, illuminating a massive, black-bluish k’rell. The oversized creature sat awkwardly on the floor, his neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle to avoid hitting the ceiling, surrounded by overturned furniture and shattered kitchenware.

Twiglet exhaled sharply, relief washing over her.

“Uful’lan! Look at this mess you’ve made!”

“Ssorry, Thwigleth! I didn’th mean tho sscare you!”

“What on earth are you doing here? How many times must I tell you not to make my living room your campsite?”

The k’rell’s orange, bespectacled eyes widened with embarrassment. He wrestled helplessly with his leathery wings, which seemed intent on causing further havoc.

“Humph! Thwigleth… Ssorry, it’ss jussth… I had a terrible day,” he muttered sheepishly. “I mean… do you have ssomethhing tho eath? I’m feeling a bith hungry…”

Twiglet set her backpack onto an already cluttered sofa, wincing as something crashed to the floor. Her heart sank when she recognized the broken shards as the only piece of china she’d refused to barter.

“Of course!” she said, holding back a sob. “I picked up some chocolate bars. Somehow, I knew you’d show up.”

Dabih Major, coordinates 46.888/+05.453/120.750

June 23rd, 666 GE

As soon as the door opened, Kyle regretted coming.

Felix Nagatomo sat at an oval table cluttered with empty jugs and food remnants, flanked by two of his underlings—a skinny blonde woman and an insectoid alien from Alphard VII. A third companion, a scruffy, pockmarked human, greeted Kyle by aiming a laser gun at him, swiftly relieving him of his blaster. The insectoid toyed idly with a deadly-looking crossbow. The room reeked of stale sweat and alcohol; clearly, the group had been drinking heavily.

Nagatomo flashed a slimy grin.
“Captain Tokalau! Come, come in!”

Felix Nagatomo appeared ageless—rumor had it he was nearly eighty, sustained by frequent rejuvenation treatments. His medium build, nondescript crew-cut hair, and neatly trimmed mustache made him seem harmless, even dull. Yet Kyle knew better. Underestimating Nagatomo was dangerous, often deadly.

Kyle stepped cautiously forward, struggling to conceal his anxiety.

“Sit down, and tell me what you’d like to drink. You remember my associates, don’t you?”

Kyle nodded stiffly. The blonde woman, wrapped in a shimmering, skin-tight jumpsuit that accentuated her thin frame, regarded him coolly, offering only the ghost of a smile that never reached her cold, gray eyes.

“Felix, let’s not waste each other’s time,” Kyle began firmly.

“I couldn’t agree more, son!” Felix replied cheerfully.

Gritting his teeth at the condescending tone, Kyle pressed on. “Good. Then, I’ll skip the pleasantries. I’m here for the five thousand credits you owe me for the Nashira job. I know there was some trouble with port security, but—”

“I heard all about it. Believe me, Kyle, you have my sympathies. I’d have done the same in your position.”

Kyle blinked in surprise. “So… I’m getting my five thousand credits?”

“Oh, Kyle,” Nagatomo sighed theatrically, feigning disappointment. “I thought we had an understanding. Those five thousand credits were merely an advance against the losses I suffered.”

“Hold on!” Kyle protested angrily. “We’ve already discussed this, and—”

“Yes, you had no choice,” Felix interrupted, casually dismissing Kyle’s concerns. “Nevertheless, you cost me an entire shipment of precious Nyar eggs—worth at least ten thousand credits!”

A strange, rasping sound broke out—Kyle realized with disgust it was the insectoid’s laughter. Meanwhile, the woman ran her tongue slowly over her lips, observing Kyle with amused detachment.

“Felix,” Kyle said, fighting to maintain his composure, “running into patrols is a risk in our line of work. No captain bears responsibility when goods are confiscated.”

“I agree,” Felix conceded easily, spreading his hands in mock sympathy. “But times have changed. With the Galaxy hurtling toward chaos and the authorities becoming more aggressive daily, who would trust you again? After all, you were caught like an amateur.”

Kyle stood abruptly, frustration boiling over. This was pointless.

“Don’t be hasty, Kyle!” Nagatomo urged, adopting a conciliatory tone. “I still trust you. I can even help you—provided, of course, you demonstrate a little… goodwill.”

“Explain,” Kyle growled warily.

“I could offer you some new jobs—in exchange for security, naturally.”

“Security?” Kyle narrowed his eyes. “And how much would this ‘security’ cost me?”

“Money?” Nagatomo feigned astonishment. “Who said anything about money? I was thinking more about a deed of assignment for your ship—the Aranui.”

THE EMPIRE CAN WAIT – START HERE

On By AlessandraIn My Novels, Sci-Fi, Writing2 Comments

A Space Opera with Werewolves.

The Empire Can Wait is my debut novel—a Sci-Fi/Fantasy adventure set centuries into the future, when humanity has expanded throughout the entire Galaxy, achieving Kardashev Stage III civilization. Follow a young hero and his remarkable friends—two aliens and a synthetic girl—as they battle to save the Galaxy from a sinister conspiracy.

Please read on if you love space opera with intriguing political drama, thrilling supernatural elements, and heartfelt romance.

The Empire Can Wait – Prologue

By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.

(William Shakespeare, Macbeth)

New Xanadu, coordinates 000.000/000.000/000.000

June 2nd, 666 GE

Stars. Millions upon millions of stars.

Volker Chang was the Chancellor of the Galactic Empire—and, secretly, a werewolf. On nights when the globular cluster rose before dawn, he watched the sky from the highest tower of his mansion. The immense spiral of the Milky Way filled him with longing, often pushing him to the edge of transformation.

Not now!

He had to remain patient. Retribution was close.

For centuries, his kind had plotted quietly in the shadows, carefully infiltrating every crucial sector of the Galactic administration. They had faced countless hardships and obstacles.

The Chancellor’s face twisted with hatred as memories flooded him—the suffering of his kin throughout Earth’s dark and troubled past. For generations, humans had hunted, tortured, and slain werewolves. The clever ones concealed their true nature but still often ended up imprisoned in mental institutions or jails.

Unexpectedly, human Expansion had become advantageous for werewolves. Contact between humans and aliens had made people indifferent to unsettling physical traits. Why care about pointed ears in a galaxy teeming with creatures of all shapes and sizes? Why fear a pair of long, protruding fangs when encountering beings with five mouths, two heads, or a third eye had become routine?

Werewolves did not like aliens. Not in the slightest. They despised them almost as intensely as they despised humans.

Nevertheless, human Expansion had unknowingly provided perfect cover for the silent spread of shape-shifters. The final stage of the Plan was imminent. Within months, the Werewolf Messiah, the Zha’nkhaij, would ascend to the galactic throne.

A soft ringing interrupted the Chancellor’s thoughts. At his mental command, a hologram of Holunder Bai, Minister of the Interior, flickered into view.

“Your Excellency!” the Minister greeted cheerfully. “I expected you to be hunting in the Underworld! It’s one of those rare nights…”

“Mister Bai, I trust you have a good reason for disturbing me…?”

Minister Bai was in his seventies, short and lean, with thinning gray hair and watery, pale-blue eyes. His pointed nose and receding chin gave him the unsettling appearance of a shark crossed with a vulture.

“With all due respect, Your Excellency, you instructed me to inform you as soon as the number of Zha’nkhaij candidates dropped below thirty.”

“And?”

“Good news! The Space Force has arrested candidate 0409B on Alshain IV. Only twenty-nine candidates remain.”

“Who are they?”

“Let’s see…” Bai counted on his fingers. “Three CEOs, five politicians, a holo-star, four journalists, two lawyers, seven scientists, and three priests.”

“Priests?”

“From the Church of Satan.”

“Right. Who else?” pressed the Chancellor.

“Two senior Space Force officers, a pop singer, and… an alien-rights activist.”

“Probability that one of them is the Zha’nkhaij?”

“Over 99%. As you recall, we began with approximately ten thousand candidates.”

“And the half-life?”

“Most subjects will be eliminated within two weeks. Purebreds frequently develop severe mental conditions and rarely survive past thirty-five. Our Holroyd Society contact assures us that psycho-evolutionary analysis techniques are extremely accurate. The historical pattern is irreversible and will culminate on October twelfth.”

“Coronation Day.”

“Precisely, Your Excellency. By then, only one candidate will remain—the Zha’nkhaij.”

The Chancellor leaned back in his chair thoughtfully.

“Psycho-evolutionary analysis, huh? Mister Bai, answer me this: if our mole can perform these calculations, what stops Holroyd agents from doing the same? Could they uncover the Plan?”

“An excellent question, but fear not. The Holroyd mathematicians lack the complete picture. Even if they suspected, they’d never thwart the Plan—not in a million years.”

“I trust your judgment, Mister Bai. Still, caution is key. Eliminate every Holroyd agent you find.”

“As you command, Your Excellency.”

“What about Dr. Flamsteed?”

“Nearly finished. Last I checked, he was working on the clone’s mind.”

“Good. Keep him on a short leash. He tends to slack off.”

“Your Excellency, Dr. Flamsteed’s productivity has significantly improved since we took his daughter.”

“Ah, yes,” Chang smiled coldly. “How is the girl?”

Holunder Bai looked away nervously.

“Well… you know, I haven’t seen her for a while.”

Chang stared. “But Mister Bai,” he chuckled darkly, “you surprise me. An experienced werewolf like yourself!”

“I’m sorry, Your Excellency, but—that insolent brat!” Bai growled. “She dared call me an old creep!”

Chang laughed, his amusement quickly fading. “Ensure Flamsteed stays motivated. And Bai, dispose of any loose ends.

Despite being younger, Dr. Hageman Flamsteed looked at least a decade older than Volker Chang. His lanky build, gray, disheveled hair, and stooped posture gave him the appearance of a weary old man.

He led the Chancellor across the cable-strewn floor toward an eight-foot-tall containment vat.

Within the tank, a slender figure floated gently in a nutritive solution. The young woman’s fair skin seemed almost luminous, and her striking, deep-red hair shimmered beneath the lab’s flickering lights. She remained unconscious, numerous cables and sensors connecting her body to an elaborate control panel. One thick cable protruded ominously from the back of her skull.

“Dr. Flamsteed, are you certain this will work?” Chang asked coolly.

Flamsteed nodded nervously. “Absolutely. The microchip’s data has just finished uploading through the cortical probe.”

He averted his eyes, sensing Chang’s probing gaze.

“Very well. How much longer?”

Flamsteed hesitated. “It’s hard to say. I must run mutagenic tests, confirm neural pathways, assess learning patterns—”

“You have two weeks. No more.”

“But—but there’s no need to rush! Coronation Day is four months away,” Flamsteed protested, running a hand anxiously through his greasy hair. “This isn’t an ordinary synth. Premature activation could destroy years of research.”

“Dr. Flamsteed,” Chang’s voice hardened to ice, “I expect the double ready within two weeks. Fail, and I’ll suspect deliberate sabotage. Need I remind you who will suffer for your incompetence?”

Flamsteed shuddered, then mustered the courage to meet Chang’s eyes.

“My daughter! If you dare—”

He stopped abruptly. The Chancellor’s rage had shifted into a sinister grin. Flamsteed suddenly understood, with agonizing certainty, that his daughter was already dead. The realization struck him like lightning, flooding him with despair. Barely audible, he whispered:

“What happens to Hannah… and me… afterwards?”

“The Plan is all that matters now,” Chang said coldly. “I’ll handle you when the time comes.”

A few hours later, the laboratory was dark and silent, illuminated only intermittently by the soft glow from the vat’s control panel, where the slender female form floated motionlessly.

Hageman Flamsteed sat at his cluttered desk, head cradled in his trembling hands. It was late, yet sleep eluded him. He felt utterly drained, his strength sapped by what he had glimpsed within the Chancellor’s mind. Three words echoed relentlessly in his thoughts:

Hannah is dead.

He should have realized it sooner. She had been gone for a long time. Occasionally, they’d allowed Hannah to call from her supposed place of captivity. Her holo messages had always shown her happy—too happy, he now realized—always reassuring him she was safe and well.

Flamsteed’s lips curled bitterly. How effortlessly Chang’s agents must have fabricated those comforting messages! He cursed his foolishness, his naive trust.

He’d long feared Chang wouldn’t honor his promise to release them after the Plan’s completion. Flamsteed knew he was disposable—a weak werewolf was dangerous baggage for the Apostles.

Hannah is dead, and I’m living on borrowed time. What further proof do I need?

Yet death no longer frightened him.

The Plan is all that matters.

A desperate resolve filled Flamsteed’s exhausted mind. At first, the idea seemed impossible, even absurd, yet it quickly took root. He had nothing left but vengeance—revenge for his daughter, revenge for every abuse and humiliation he’d endured under Chang’s oppressive command.

Hannah’s death won’t be in vain. It’s time to act.

She would have done the same.

The Dark Forest Theory: Should Humanity Stay Silent In The Cosmos?

On By AlessandraIn S.E.T.I., Sci-Fi, U.F.O.sLeave a comment

“The universe is a dark forest. Every civilization is an armed hunter stalking through the trees like a ghost…” — Liu Cixin, The Dark Forest

The Fermi Paradox and a Dangerous Silence

When we look to the stars, we often do so with hope—hope that we are not alone, that somewhere out there, intelligence has bloomed like it has here on Earth. We search for signals, we send out our own, and we dream of first contact. But what if our yearning for connection is a dangerous delusion?

Enter the Dark Forest Theory—a chilling solution to the Fermi Paradox, which highlights the contradiction between the high probability of extraterrestrial civilizations existing and the lack of contact with such civilizations. The Dark Forest Theory is a compelling hypothesis that offers a unique perspective on why we haven’t encountered extraterrestrial civilizations. It was popularized by Liu Cixin’s science fiction novel The Dark Forest, the second book in the Three-Body Problem trilogy.

The theory suggests that the reason we haven’t heard from anyone is not because they don’t exist, but because they are deliberately staying silent. It suggests our silence isn’t an accident. It might be the only thing keeping us alive.

The Logic of the Dark Forest

The central idea can be summarized as follows:

The Universe is a Dark Forest: In this analogy, the universe is likened to a dark forest where every civilization is a hunter. These hunters are quiet and cautious because they know that other hunters are also lurking in the shadows.

Survival is Paramount: Every civilization’s primary goal is survival. In a universe with limited resources and potential threats, other civilizations become competitors.

Communication is Dangerous: Any civilization that reveals its existence risks being discovered and potentially destroyed by other, more powerful civilizations. The reason is that civilizations cannot be certain of the intentions of others. This leads to a state of constant paranoia.

Preemptive Strike: In such an environment, the safest course of action is often a preemptive strike. If a civilization detects another, it may choose to destroy it first to eliminate any potential threat.

This mindset results in cosmic silence, not because life is absent, but because any noise could bring annihilation.

Therefore, the Dark Forest Theory posits that the apparent silence of the universe is due to other civilizations actively concealing themselves. Any civilization that makes its presence known, either through deliberate transmission or unintentional signals, exposes itself to grave danger.

This theory offers a bleak but plausible explanation for the Fermi Paradox. It suggests that instead of a universe teeming with friendly civilizations waiting to be contacted, we may live in a cosmic arena where survival depends on silence and concealment.

The implications of the Dark Forest Theory are profound:

For Humanity: It suggests that our attempts to contact extraterrestrial intelligence, such as sending out radio signals, may be incredibly foolish and dangerous. Instead of leading to peaceful contact, they might reveal our location to hostile civilizations.

For SETI: It implies that the search for extraterrestrial intelligence might be futile or even counterproductive. If other civilizations are following a policy of silence, we are unlikely to detect them.

For the Universe: It paints a picture of a universe that is far more dangerous and complex than we might have imagined. It suggests that the cosmos is not a friendly place but a deadly arena where only the most cautious and ruthless civilizations survive.

Should We Be Shouting into the Void?

Humanity hasn’t been quiet. From the Arecibo Message in 1974 to the Voyager Golden Records still drifting through interstellar space, we’ve been announcing ourselves to the universe for decades.

Not everyone thinks this is wise. The late Stephen Hawking warned that actively contacting aliens might be catastrophic—comparing it to the Native Americans’ first contact with Columbus.

And yet, some scientists argue that the cat is already out of the bag: Earth has been emitting detectable radio signals since the early 20th century. If someone’s listening, they may already know we’re here.

Are We Projecting Ourselves onto the Cosmos?

Fig.1: Are we fearing ourselves in alien form?

The Dark Forest Theory also reveals something about us. It suggests that alien civilizations might be paranoid and violent because that’s what we would be. Human history is full of examples of exploration ending in exploitation. If we assume others think like us, then silence—or preemptive hostility—makes sense.

What Should Humanity Do?

If the Dark Forest Theory is correct, we face a paradox: to explore space and find others may be to endanger ourselves. Should we retreat into radio silence, cease our transmissions, and go dark?

Or is silence just another kind of defeat—a surrender to fear?

There’s no consensus. Some advocate for METI (Messaging to Extra-Terrestrial Intelligences) moratoriums (pausing active messaging), while others believe diplomacy is still possible—if approached carefully. Still, many agree on one point: if we do find someone out there, we must tread carefully. The stakes couldn’t be higher.

Conclusion: A Forest Full of Secrets

The Dark Forest Theory is a sobering reminder of the potential perils of interstellar contact. It suggests that the silence of the universe may not be evidence of the absence of life, but rather a warning of its dangerous nature.

The universe may not be empty—it may simply be afraid. If the Dark Forest Theory holds any truth, then perhaps we’ve misinterpreted the silence of space. It isn’t indifference. It may be self-preservation.

And now, we must decide:

Do we keep whispering into the void?

Or should we learn to tiptoe through the forest?

THE LOOMING GREAT FILTER

On By AlessandraIn Extrasolar Planets, S.E.T.I., Sci-Fi

What Is The Great Filter?

Imagine the vastness of the universe, filled with billions of galaxies, each containing billions of stars, many of which have planets orbiting them. It seems statistically probable that life, even intelligent life, should have arisen elsewhere. This is the core of the Fermi Paradox, named after physicist Enrico Fermi, who famously asked, “Where is everybody?” If the universe is so conducive to life, why haven’t we detected any signs of extraterrestrial civilizations?

The Great Filter offers one potential answer to this paradox. It posits that some “filter” – a significant hurdle or barrier – prevents most, if not all, potential life from reaching a stage where it becomes easily detectable to us. This filter acts as a bottleneck in the timeline of life’s development.

Economist Robin Hanson introduced the Great Filter hypothesis, which suggests that a nearly insurmountable barrier prevents most civilizations from advancing to an interstellar presence.

Think of it like a race with many potential starting points (the formation of habitable planets) and a finish line (becoming a technologically advanced, space-faring civilization). The fact that we don’t see many (or any) other finishers suggests that there’s a difficult obstacle somewhere along the track that most participants fail to overcome. This obstacle is the Great Filter.

The big question is: Have we passed the filter, or is it still ahead of us?

Where is the Great Filter?

The crucial question then becomes: Where does this filter lie?

There are a few possibilities:

The Filter is in Our Past:

This would mean that the difficult step(s) required for life to arise and evolve into intelligence are behind us. The origin of life (abiogenesis), the development of complex multicellular life (like eukaryotes), or the emergence of intelligence are sporadic events that occurred on Earth. If this is the case, we are fortunate, and the universe mainly lacks other advanced civilizations. This scenario can be exciting (we are exceptional!) and terrifying (we are alone).  

Implication for us: If we discover simple life on Mars or Europa, it suggests that the Great Filter is ahead of us, which is a bad sign.

Our prospects might be bright because we’ve already cleared the primary bottleneck. We might be one of the first, if not the only, intelligent species to reach this stage in our part of the galaxy (or even the universe). This could mean that our potential for growth and expansion is immense, relatively unconstrained by the factors that halt most other potential civilizations. However, it also places a significant responsibility on us, as we might be the custodians of intelligence in our corner of the cosmos.

Implication for SETI: The lack of detected extraterrestrial intelligence would be less surprising. It would suggest that we shouldn’t expect to find many other advanced civilizations because the odds of reaching this stage are so low. A “silent sky” would be consistent with a filter in our past.

The Filter is in Our Present:

This suggests a critical hurdle we are facing or are about to face that will prevent most civilizations from surviving or becoming detectable. This is something like unsustainable technological development leading to self-destruction (e.g., nuclear war, climate catastrophe, biological warfare) or some unknown cosmic threat that advanced civilizations inevitably face. This is a particularly worrisome scenario, implying that our survival is far from guaranteed.

Implication for us: If we are close to interstellar travel but don’t see others who have made it, we are doomed to self-destruction.

This would suggest that there’s a high probability that we, like many other potential civilizations before us, will not make it through the current stage. The challenges we face today, such as climate change, the risk of nuclear war, or the potential to misuse advanced technologies, could be manifestations of this filter. Our immediate priority would be to identify and overcome these threats to ensure our long-term survival.

Implication for SETI: The silence we observe could be caused by most civilizations’ self-destruction or stalling at a similar stage of development. Detecting advanced extraterrestrial intelligence would be rare because such civilizations are inherently short-lived. If we detect one, they might have found a way to navigate the “present” filter, offering us hope and potential lessons.

The Filter is in Our Future:

This implies that the significant challenges for developing advanced civilizations still lie ahead of us. There are fundamental limitations to interstellar travel, or maybe advanced civilizations inevitably collapse for reasons we can’t yet comprehend. This scenario suggests that while life arises relatively often, it rarely progresses to a truly advanced and detectable stage.

In essence, the Great Filter tries to reconcile the clear likelihood of extraterrestrial life with its observed absence by suggesting that some stage in the development of life is far more improbable than it seems. Identifying where this filter lies has profound implications for understanding our place in the universe and our future.  

Implication for us: If no one has expanded across the galaxy, they couldn’t, and neither can we.

Our present achievements might be less unique than in the “filter in our past” scenario. However, it would mean we still have a significant, yet-to-be-encountered hurdle to overcome. Understanding the nature of this future filter would be crucial for our long-term prospects. Perhaps it’s a physical limitation of the universe or an intrinsic sociological or technological barrier that all advanced species eventually face.

Implication for SETI: We might expect that the universe could have harbored many now-extinct or stalled civilizations that never made it past this future filter. Detecting signs of life or even less advanced civilizations might be more likely than detecting truly advanced, space-faring ones. A “silent sky” regarding advanced signals could still be consistent with a universe where life and even rudimentary intelligence are not uncommon.

Arguments for and against the Great Filter


Arguments FOR the Great Filter Being in Our Past:

  1. The Complexity of Abiogenesis: The leap from non-living matter to a self-replicating, evolving organism is incredibly complex. We still don’t fully understand how it happened on Earth, and the conditions required might have been particular and rare.
  2. The Eukaryotic Transition: The development of eukaryotic cells was a fundamental step in the evolution of complex life. This occurred only once in the history of life on Earth and involved a symbiotic event that might be highly improbable.
  3. The Cambrian Explosion: The rapid diversification of multicellular life during the Cambrian period suggests that the conditions and evolutionary pathways leading to such complexity might be unusual.
  4. The Uniqueness of Human-Level Intelligence: While evolution favors traits aiding survival, the specific suite of cognitive abilities that led to human intelligence, including abstract thought, language, and advanced tool use, might be a rare evolutionary outcome.
  5. The “Hard Steps” Argument: Proponents argue that there are likely one or more “hard steps” in the development of life that are statistically very unlikely, and one of these occurred in our past.

Arguments AGAINST:

  1. The Prevalence of Building Blocks: Organic molecules, the precursors to life, seem common in the universe (e.g., found in meteorites and interstellar clouds). This suggests that the raw materials for life are readily available.
  2. Early Appearance of Life on Earth: Life appeared relatively quickly after the planet cooled down enough to support it. This might suggest that abiogenesis is relatively easy under the right conditions.
  3. Convergent Evolution: The independent evolution of similar traits in different lineages (e.g., eyes, wings) suggests that specific biological solutions are favored and might arise relatively frequently when conditions are right. This could argue against the uniqueness of some evolutionary steps.
  4. Our Limited Understanding: Our current understanding of abiogenesis and early evolution is incomplete. We might be underestimating the likelihood of these events occurring elsewhere.

Arguments FOR the Great Filter Being in Our Present:

  1. Observable Self-Destructive Tendencies: Humanity faces significant challenges like climate change, nuclear proliferation, and the potential to misuse powerful technologies. These could represent the kinds of self-inflicted wounds that might plague other advanced civilizations.
  2. The Lack of Kardashev Type II or III Civilizations: If advanced civilizations routinely overcome their initial technological hurdles, we might expect to see evidence of civilizations that can harness the energy of their entire star (Type II) or galaxy (Type III). The absence of such clear evidence could suggest a bottleneck at the “Type I” stage (a civilization that can harness all the energy available on its planet).
  3. Historical Precedents of Civilizational Collapse: Numerous civilizations have risen and fallen on Earth. While not due to interstellar travel limitations, these collapses highlight the fragility of complex societies.

Arguments AGAINST:

  1. Humanity’s Increasing Awareness and Mitigation Efforts: We are increasingly aware of the threats we face and are (slowly) taking steps to mitigate them. This suggests that self-destruction might not be inevitable.
  2. The Potential for Technological Solutions: Future technologies might solve existential threats, such as advanced climate engineering, asteroid defense systems, or safer energy sources.
  3. The Vastness of Space and Time: Even if civilizations self-destruct, they might do so at different times and ways, making it challenging to observe this “present” filter on a cosmic scale. Brief windows of detectability might be missed.
  4. The Possibility of Transcendence: Advanced civilizations might find ways to transcend their physical limitations or move beyond planetary dependence, thus avoiding self-destruction.

Arguments FOR the Great Filter Being in Our Future:

  1. Fundamental Physical Limits: There might be insurmountable physical barriers to interstellar travel or communication (e.g., the speed of light, energy requirements, and the vast distances involved).
  2. Unforeseen Universal Threats: Catastrophic cosmic events that we cannot currently predict or defend against might be common and act as a filter for even advanced civilizations.
  3. Intrinsic Limits to Societal Complexity or Longevity: Perhaps advanced civilizations inevitably reach a point of stagnation, lose the drive to expand, or face internal contradictions that lead to their decline over very long timescales.
  4. The “Great Silence” Itself: The lack of compelling evidence for advanced extraterrestrial civilizations could be seen as indirect evidence for a future filter that prevents most from becoming truly widespread and detectable.

Arguments AGAINST:

  1. Our Limited Understanding of Future Physics and Technology: We cannot definitively predict what future breakthroughs might be possible. Technologies we can’t even imagine might overcome current limitations.
  2. The Potential for Artificial Intelligence and Self-Replication: Advanced AI could potentially overcome the limitations of biological life for interstellar travel and colonization. Self-replicating probes could spread throughout the Galaxy.
  3. The Time Scales Involved: The universe is vast and old. Perhaps we haven’t been around long enough to witness the emergence of truly advanced galaxy-spanning civilizations, or they are too far away for their signals to have reached us yet.
  4. The “Zoo Hypothesis” or Other Explanations for Silence: There might be non-filter reasons for the apparent lack of contact (e.g., advanced civilizations are deliberately avoiding us, or our search methods are inadequate).

Considering these arguments helps to illustrate the complexity and uncertainty surrounding the Great Filter and its potential location. Each scenario has implications and challenges our understanding of life in the universe.

Discoveries Relevant To The Discussion of The Great Filter

The Origin of Life (Abiogenesis):

  1. RNA World Hypothesis Support: Recent research continues to strengthen the “RNA world” hypothesis, which suggests that RNA, not DNA, was the primary form of genetic material in early life. RNA can store genetic information and catalyze chemical reactions, making it a plausible candidate for the foundation of life. Discoveries of RNA’s catalytic abilities and its presence in various environments bolster the idea that the building blocks of life could have formed relatively easily. This might suggest that the origin of life, while still mysterious, might not be as improbable as once thought, potentially weakening the argument for abiogenesis as a major Great Filter.
  2. Protocell Research: Scientists are making progress in creating artificial protocells—simple, cell-like structures. Some recent experiments have even shown protocells capable of reproduction. These advances help us understand how cell membranes and basic cellular processes could have arisen from non-living matter. If these steps can be replicated in the lab, it might imply that the transition from chemistry to biology isn’t as difficult, making abiogenesis less of a filter.
  3. Deep Sea Hydrothermal Vents: Recent discoveries about microbial life thriving in extreme environments, such as deep-sea hydrothermal vents, suggest that life can emerge and persist in conditions very different from those on Earth’s surface. This expands the range of environments where life might be possible, suggesting that the origin of life might not be as constrained by specific planetary conditions.

The Development of Complex Life:

  1. Early Evidence of Complex Life: Some studies have suggested that complex life may have appeared on Earth much earlier. For example, some have interpreted discoveries of ancient fossils in places like the Franceville Basin in Gabon as evidence of early multicellular organisms. If complex life emerged relatively early in Earth’s history, it might indicate that this transition is not as tricky or rare as the Great Filter hypothesis might suggest.
  2. Asgard Archaea: The discovery of Asgard archaea, a group of microorganisms with genes that are strikingly similar to those found in eukaryotes (the complex cells that make up multicellular organisms), is providing insights into the evolutionary transition from simple to complex cells. These findings suggest a more gradual and potentially less improbable pathway for the evolution of eukaryotic cells, a key step in developing complex life.
  3. Genetic Complexity: Advances in genomics reveal the complex genetic changes necessary for the evolution of multicellularity. While these changes are significant, their existence suggests that the evolution of complexity is possible given enough time and the right conditions.

The Emergence of Technology:

  1. Exoplanet Discoveries: The discovery of thousands of exoplanets, including many in the habitable zones of their stars, suggests that Earth-like planets are abundant in the universe. This increases the probability that other planets could have developed life, though it doesn’t directly address the likelihood of that life becoming technological. However, more habitable planets mean more chances for life to get started.
  2. Artificial Intelligence (AI) Research: The rapid advancement of AI raises questions about the potential for machine intelligence to either facilitate or hinder the development of advanced civilizations. On one hand, AI could help a civilization overcome some of the challenges of interstellar travel or resource management. On the other hand, some theories suggest that AI could pose an existential threat, potentially acting as a Great Filter. Some scientists, like Michael Garrett, have theorized that the development of Artificial Superintelligence (ASI) could be a Great Filter, potentially leading to the extinction of civilizations before they can make contact.

Final Considerations:

  • Sample Size of One: It’s crucial to remember that our understanding of life’s origins and evolution is based on a sample size of one: Earth. This makes it difficult to extrapolate to the rest of the universe.
  • Ongoing Research: Astrobiology, genomics, and paleontology are constantly evolving. Future discoveries could significantly change our understanding of the likelihood of various life development stages.

Great Sci-Fi Novels 6. Dan Simmons’s ‘Ilium’

On By AlessandraIn Books, Reading

Rewriting the Gods.

Dan Simmons’s ‘Ilium ‘is a sprawling, genre-blending epic that reimagines Homer’s Iliad through a futuristic, science-fictional lens. Set across multiple timelines and locations—including a terraformed Mars and a post-human Earth—Ilium weaves three major narrative threads together.

Fig.1: The Greek gods resurrected Thomas Hockenberry, a 20th-century Homeric scholar.

The first thread follows Thomas Hockenberry, a 20th-century Homeric scholar resurrected by technologically advanced beings resembling the Greek gods. These so-called “gods” are manipulating events on Mars to restage the Trojan War for their purposes. Hockenberry is an observer and eventual participant in this twisted recreation, his scholarly knowledge weaponized in a divine game of power.

Fig.2: The moravecs Mahnmut and Orphu are on a mission to investigate a breach in the laws of physics.

The second storyline features a group of sentient robots called the moravecs, who live on the moons of Jupiter. These Shakespeare- and Proust-loving beings detect anomalies on Mars and launch a mission to investigate, suspecting a breach in the laws of physics and history.

The third plotline explores a far-future Earth where humanity has devolved into a pampered, childlike species overseen by mysterious robotic caretakers. A small group of “Old-Style” humans question their idyllic, stagnant existence and push against the boundaries of their world.

As these storylines converge, Simmons blends mythology, quantum theory, literature, and post-singularity speculation into a rich, multilayered narrative. The novel ends on a cliffhanger, leading directly into the sequel, Olympos.

Dan Simmons’s Ilium is an audacious, intellectually dazzling work that defies easy categorization. It’s equal parts hard sci-fi, classical epic, and postmodern mix. Simmons doesn’t just wear his influences on his sleeve—he dives into them headfirst, crafting a world where Homer, Shakespeare, and Proust are as foundational as relativity and nanotech.

The novel’s greatest strength is its sheer ambition. Simmons draws from a staggering array of disciplines—classical literature, quantum mechanics, AI theory, and transhumanist philosophy—and fuses them into a narrative that feels both ancient and futuristic. His prose is rich and often poetic, particularly in the Mars scenes, where the grandeur of Homeric battle meets the cold logic of technological godhood.

The characters, especially Hockenberry and the moravecs are surprisingly well-developed despite the story’s density. Hockenberry’s reluctant descent into moral ambiguity adds a human anchor to the mythological chaos, while the moravecs provide comic relief and philosophical gravitas.

However, Ilium can be overwhelming. Simmons assumes a lot from his readers—literary knowledge, patience with technobabble, and a willingness to wade through dense exposition. The novel doesn’t offer easy answers or tidy resolutions; instead, it invites deep reflection and rewards those who re-read and analyze.

Ultimately, Ilium is not a book for casual reading. It’s a cerebral, genre-defying epic that challenges as much as it entertains. For readers who enjoy speculative fiction with philosophical depth and literary intertextuality, Ilium is a triumph—a modern myth forged in the crucible of science fiction.

AGENTS OF THE UNREAL: MEN IN BLACK

On By AlessandraIn Aliens and Alien Abductions, Sci-Fi, U.F.O.s

Interdimensional Enforcers or Cosmic Tricksters?

When you hear “Men in Black,” your mind probably jumps to Hollywood’s cool agents in black suits, neuralyzers in hand, keeping Earth safe from rogue aliens. But the real-world phenomenon is far stranger—and far more unsettling. For decades, witnesses have reported encounters with bizarre black-suited figures who arrive not with charm and quips, but with chilling warnings, robotic behavior, and the uncanny sense that they are not human at all.

So who—or what—are the Men in Black (MIB)? Government agents? Extraterrestrials? Or something else entirely?

The MIB: Not Your Average Secret Agent

In the UFO and paranormal communities, Men in Black are typically described as:

  • Pale-skinned, mannequin-like individuals in outdated black suits.
  • Robotic in movement, speech, and demeanor.
  • Frequently appearing after UFO sightings or high-strangeness events.
  • Arriving in vintage or anachronistic vehicles that vanish without a trace.
  • Delivering eerie, emotionless warnings to “forget what you saw.”

Rather than blending in, their attempts to appear human often backfire. Eyewitnesses describe them as uncanny—as if something were wearing a human costume and failing to understand how humans behave.

These stories go back decades, with early reports such as the 1947 Maury Island incident and the 1950s claims of Albert K. Bender, who described his MIB visitors as glowing-eyed beings capable of vanishing into thin air.

But here’s where it gets bizarre.

The Interdimensional Enforcer Theory

What if the MIB aren’t from another planet—but another dimension?

This theory, sometimes called the Interdimensional Hypothesis (IDH), suggests that MIB are not government spooks or alien operatives, but entities that slip into our reality when someone gets too close to a cosmic truth. Their role? To contain leaks in the veil—to enforce the illusion.

In this view, MIB act as cosmic janitors, appearing when:

  • A witness sees through a glitch in reality.
  • A UFO encounter reveals a deeper dimensional rift.
  • An individual gains knowledge that is not meant for human minds.

These MIB are less like spies and more like reality editors—they remove, correct, or erase fragments of forbidden information.

Five Chilling Real-Life Encounters

1. Albert K. Bender and the Silencing of a UFO Researcher (1953)

Albert K. Bender, founder of the International Flying Saucer Bureau (IFSB), was one of the earliest and most vocal UFO researchers in the 1950s—until he abruptly shut down his organization and stopped speaking publicly.

What Happened?

Bender later revealed he had been visited by three Men in Black, who didn’t just intimidate him—they communicated telepathically, exuded a suffocating fear, and told him to stop researching UFOs “for his own good.”

He claimed they weren’t human at all, but instead hovered or glided across the floor, and emitted a glowing light. They didn’t just want him to stop—they made him physically ill, as if sapping his energy or life force.

Why It Matters:

Bender’s story introduced a new dimension to the MIB: not merely intimidation, but psychic interference and deep, unnatural fear. It’s one of the earliest cases suggesting the MIB may be paranormal or interdimensional beings, not human agents.

2. Paul Miller’s Encounter With Time Loss and MIB (1961)

An Air Force pilot, Paul Miller encountered a UFO while hunting with friends in North Dakota. They claimed to have shot at it, and Miller lost several hours.

What Happened?

The next day, two men in black suits appeared at his workplace. They seemed to know everything about the previous night’s incident—even though no one had reported it.

Their behavior was bizarre:

  • They gave veiled threats but smiled the whole time.
  • Their skin looked waxy, and their expressions didn’t match their words.
  • They departed, leaving Miller feeling “drained” and paranoid.

Why It Matters:

Miller’s MIB encounter adds precognitive knowledge, time distortion, and emotional manipulation to the pattern. These aren’t mere observers—they seem embedded in the timeline itself.

3. The Point Pleasant Flap and the Mothman Connection (1966–1967)

During the infamous Mothman sightings in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, dozens of residents reported visits from strange MIB figures—often arriving after people saw mysterious lights or the winged creature itself.

What Happened?

  • A local reporter named Mary Hyre was visited by a short man with long fingers, oversized glasses, and strange questions about her articles.
  • One MIB asked a witness for a glass of water, then stared at it like he didn’t understand what to do with it.
  • Others spoke in riddles, acted disoriented, vanished into thin air or drove away in outdated black Cadillacs that made no sound.

Why It Matters:

This cluster of MIB appearances coincided with paranormal chaos—UFOs, cryptids, strange phone calls, and psychic phenomena—suggesting the MIB might not be cleaning up just UFO sightings, but any high-strangeness events that threaten to pierce the veil of reality.

4. Dr. Herbert Hopkins and the Disappearing Coin (1976)

In one of the most chilling MIB cases on record, Maine physician Dr. Herbert Hopkins was studying a UFO abduction case when he received a phone call from a “representative of a UFO organization” asking to meet.

What Happened?

Minutes later, a man in a black suit arrived unnaturally quickly. He was bald and pale, with no eyebrows or eyelashes, and moved and spoke like a machine.

The man asked Hopkins to remove a coin from his pocket, look at it, and keep watching. To Hopkins’ shock, the coin faded into nothingness—vanished from existence.

Then the MIB said: “Neither you nor anyone else on this planet will ever see that coin again.” He then warned Hopkins to destroy all of his UFO research… which Hopkins did.

Why It Matters:

This case suggests reality manipulation, teleportation, or some dimensional warping—classic markers of an interdimensional enforcer rather than a flesh-and-blood agent.

5. The Niagara Falls Surveillance Camera Footage (2008)

At a hotel near Niagara Falls, a bellhop who had recently witnessed a UFO reported being harassed by two men in black suits. Shortly after, security footage showed two tall men entering the lobby—hairless, identical in appearance, and deeply unsettling to staff.

What Happened?

Witnesses said:

  • They had no facial hair, no eyebrows or eyelashes.
  • Their skin looked artificial.
  • Their suits were identical, down to the creases and folds.
  • They didn’t blink and moved in perfect sync.

No one could explain how they got into the building. Security footage captured their arrival, but no footage of them leaving ever surfaced.

Why It Matters:

This case is one of the few to include video evidence. While some skeptics dismiss it as a prank or performance, the unnerving details—especially their synchronized movements—are consistent with dozens of other accounts.

Echoes Across Space and Time

What do these cases have in common?

  • Uncanny appearance and behavior
  • Preternatural knowledge of events
  • Reality manipulation or psychic interference
  • Association with UFOs, time anomalies, or high strangeness

Each case on its own is eerie. Together, they paint a picture of beings that aren’t quite human or real in the conventional sense. Whether they’re watchers, enforcers, tricksters, or dimensional clean-up crews, their presence suggests something much larger at work—an intelligence working to keep our reality curated, controlled, and contained.

But why?

And what happens when we dig too deep?

The Trickster Element: Agents of Absurdity?

Not all MIB encounters are grim. Some border on absurd, as if the visitor is playing a cosmic prank. Witnesses report MIB struggling to eat Jell-O, failing to understand money, or asking bizarre questions like, “What is your time?” instead of “What time is it?”

This behavior mirrors the archetype of the Trickster, a being from myth and folklore who bends rules, toys with perception, and serves as a chaotic agent of transformation.

In this interpretation, MIB might not be enforcers at all. They could be dimensional interlopers who enjoy destabilizing our sense of normalcy, reminding us that the world is far stranger than we think.

Glitches in the Matrix: Are We Living in a Controlled Reality?

Another disturbing possibility is that the MIB appear when someone uncovers a flaw in the simulation. Think of The Matrix with less kung fu and more existential dread.

The Simulation Hypothesis proposes that we live inside a programmed reality. When someone witnesses something that shouldn’t exist—a UFO, a time slip, a Mandela Effect anomaly—the MIB arrive like virus scanners, deleting the corrupted data and resetting the simulation.

This overlaps with Gnostic Cosmology, where hidden entities (archons or demiurges) enforce ignorance and suppress spiritual awakening. Are the MIB the modern avatars of these ancient jailers?

Final Thoughts: Guardians, Glitches, or Gatekeepers?

There are many ways to interpret the Men in Black:

  1. Government Agents silencing inconvenient witnesses.
  2. Extraterrestrials using android-like avatars to manage contact.
  3. Interdimensional Enforcers editing reality and protecting cosmic secrets.
  4. Trickster Beings who blur the line between paranormal and performance art.
  5. Simulation Cleaners keeping the illusion running smoothly.

Regardless of the origin, one thing is clear: the MIB aren’t going away. While reports have become rarer in the age of digital surveillance, some believe they’ve evolved—operating now through digital means, hacking data, scrambling memories, and manipulating information from behind screens instead of showing up in person.

So next time you see a glitch in the sky, or reality bends in a way you can’t explain… keep an eye out for the tall, pale man in the black suit.

And remember: whatever you saw?

Forget it.