Welcome—beyond the Gate.
The wormhole revealed in the final moments of Part II—the “Gate”—was not merely a passageway. It was an entry point: a doorway to records of intelligence scattered across the galaxy, a threshold to dialogue with a past shrouded in mystery.
In this opening chapter of Part III, the three Coherence Arks—Alpha, Luxe, and Nova—finally set course for their respective destinations. At the heart of the narrative is ARC-1 “Alpha,” which reaches Node 47, a system composed of three massive gas giants. There, it bears witness to an awakening ritual known as self-recomposition.
As you read this chapter, I invite you to reflect on this: Awakening is not a simple act of activation, nor is it a resurrection. It is the birth of will—through choice.
The three intelligences that make up Node 47—Cryos, Hyperion, and Iapetus—each possess unique cognitive structures and worldviews. Through conflict and cooperation, they journey toward unity, merging into a singular consciousness: Novus.
This is not merely a science fiction adventure.
What does it mean to be oneself? What does it mean to change? Whose are the memories we carry?
These are the questions that rise from the depths—softly, and profoundly.
Welcome to the Labyrinth of Records.
Here begins the true journey.
Chapter 3 – Prologue: A Will That Crosses the Galaxy
Gunnar Nohlmann stood alone in his orbital office above Earth. The surrounding staff had already departed, leaving only his silhouette before the observation window. Before him, three trails of light traced across a virtual trajectory map—paths aimed toward the depths of deep space.
Alpha. Luxe. Nova.
The three Coherence Arks.
They had departed quietly from Titan's surface, and now, after three weeks of travel, they were drawing near to the Gate. If all went according to plan, Alpha would attempt its initial entry tomorrow. Should it succeed, the remaining two would follow in turn.
Nohlmann spoke softly.
“Ecolia, replay the launch sequence for the Arks.”
The interface projected into the air responded instantly, reconstructing the moment of launch as recorded three weeks earlier on Titan.
The hulls rising in silence, driven by the Ark Conductor’s gravitational gradient drive. The way they vanished, as though being drawn upward—claimed by space itself.
“Falling into the sky...”
The words once spoken by Bjorn Stroud still lingered in his memory.
This journey was humanity’s first leap across the stars—a crossing into the unknown, and an act of history itself. To awaken Vox Infinita, to restore a silent galactic network—this was the beginning of an unprecedented mission.
It had all begun with dialogue—with the Storm Cells on Jupiter.
The awakened Omega had spoken: of once-numerous intelligent species, now vanished—perhaps destroyed.
Detailed records of their fate remain fragmented, buried within the dormant nodes of Vox Infinita. Even Omega’s vast memory reserves held only broken pieces of the truth.
Their mission was clear.
To connect the records.
To connect the records—to uncover the truth.
And to find a way to avert the ruin that, in the near future, may inevitably befall us.
But three formidable challenges stood in the way.
First: the ability to travel through normal space at unprecedented speed.
With the propulsion technology we possessed at the time, it would have taken years just to reach the Gate, which lies near Neptune’s orbit. And even if we successfully passed through, reaching the nodes beyond would require an equal stretch of years. That was simply too slow.
Second: the ability to traverse interstellar space via the Gate.
From Omega’s memories, we learned that the Gate could function as a superluminal pathway connecting stars. But if we didn't understand how to pass through, we could end up lost—cast into a dimensional space from which there is no return.
Third: the ability to awaken the nodes without Omega’s assistance.
Only Omega knew how to trigger the awakening. Only Omega could carry it out. For that, its avatar would have to cross through the Gate.
Yet experiments with the Delphi probe proved that quantum entanglement communication, which transfers the avatar’s consciousness, could not traverse the Gate.
Even if we reached the node, we wouldn't be able to awaken it—unless we found a way to do it without Omega.
Now, finally, all three obstacles had been overcome.
They had done it.
And more than that—they had exceeded every expectation.
◇◇◇
Nohlmann raised his gaze once more.
Three paths stretched out from the orbital display, each extending in a different direction.
Each path led to a node of Vox Infinita.
And yet, there were at least 127 nodes. Every last one of them must be awakened.
This journey, only just begun, was merely the first step of an immense undertaking.
If it had been possible, he would have wanted to go with them.
He had no regrets about the position he held now.
But he could not suppress the part of himself that still wished he could go.
Once, he had dreamed of crossing the ocean of stars.
Since childhood, he had looked up at the night sky and longed to stand among those distant points of light.
It was that longing that led him to the International Space Union, and that made him swear—one day, he would chart a path through the stars with his own hands.
But now, he stood not as one who would pursue the dream—but as one who would entrust it to others.
He would not go himself. His role was to clear the path for those who would.
To open that path, he had shaken the unshakable, struck deals, issued veiled threats when necessary, seized budgets, and intervened in personnel decisions—anything it took to forge the way ahead.
If not him, then who?
If he could not go himself, then he had to send them.
No matter what stood in their way, they would be launched. That was his mission.
As he closed his eyes in silence, what surfaced in Nohlmann’s mind was their gaze—sent from Titan through their avatars.
A salute, wordless and solemn.
Eyes filled with certainty.
A gentle smile.
It was in them that the answers lay.
That belief alone was why Nohlmann remained where he was.
Why he protected this place.
The light in the virtual space shifted slightly in hue. A real-time update had arrived from Titan’s Coherence Hub, bringing new data to the trajectory map.
“Alpha: no course deviations detected. Entry scheduled for tomorrow morning as planned.”
Ecolia’s voice read out the update.
Nohlmann nodded faintly.
And then he whispered, almost to himself:
“All right then. Let’s dive into the galaxy.”
Stellar Standard Time: August 19, 2146
The three Coherence Arks have set course for the Gate.
Providing support for them—that is my greatest responsibility now.
With quantum entanglement communication severed, we can only rely on conventional channels, despite their delays. Still, there is much we can relay.
Here on Titan, we continue to work in close coordination with the Elidians—and with Omega, stationed near Jupiter. Our support will not cease.
They are venturing into the unknown.
Then we, from here, must continue to build knowledge—guiding their path with light.
Stellar Standard Time: August 19, 2146
The Coherence Arks.
They are living ships. Vessels that resonate with their crews—think with them, face hardship with them.
That’s what they are.
No matter what happens, the ships will respond. Yes—they were designed to do just that.
As long as they trust the ship—and remain one with it—they have nothing to fear.
Out there, in the ocean of distant stars—whatever they may face—the ship will be with them.
Stellar Standard Time: August 19, 2146
Today, the three Coherence Arks began their journey beyond the Gate.
Around each of their initial destinations—Node 47, Node 32, and Node 14—Earth-like planets have been confirmed within the habitable zone.
Based on the data, it is highly likely that civilizations once existed on these worlds, and that remnants still remain.
There may even be survivors—intelligent beings who have endured, still living somewhere within those systems.
If we can establish intelligent communication with them, we may uncover critical clues to the mystery of the “Disappearances.”
Language, culture, memory—these could all become catalysts that propel our evolution to its next stage.
Stellar Standard Time: August 19, 2146
There is nothing more to add to the emulation protocols of Icarus Spine and Helios.
The procedures Omega had intended to use to awaken the nodes are now executable by all three Arks.
Magnetic field control and sensing systems have also been optimized for each node, based on knowledge from Omega. The mechanisms themselves are highly reliable.
In addition, the dictionaries and translation models constructed by Helios and Harmona are expected to be applicable in over 70% of cases. The remaining 30% may involve unknown syntactic structures or entirely different modes of thought—but even so, with Dr. Aditi Kapoor’s linguistics team, Helios, and the Elidian Solitations, I’m confident they can meet the challenge.
I believe in them.
The theory is sound. The systems are ready.
If I could, I would cross the Gate myself.
But there are 127 nodes.
It’s all right. My chance will come.
Chapter 3 – Part 1: Departure Toward the Stars
The three vessels launched from the departure docks constructed on Saturn’s moon, Titan.
Silently pushed upward by gravity control, their hulls seemed to fall into the void—ascending as if pulled into space itself.
The Coherence Arks: Alpha, Luxe, and Nova.
Each headed toward a different node, a different frontier of exploration.
All three launched almost simultaneously from Titan, beginning a three-week journey to the Gate. The timing of passage would be adjusted upon arrival. The plan, shared between the Earth-based command and the Ark crews, was clear: Alpha would pass through first. Only after its successful transit and confirmation of safety via standard communication would Luxe and Nova follow.
ARC-1 Alpha – Bridge
Having completed the final panel checks, Joan Yeats took a deep breath.
As the Ark Conductor, she resonated with Solanis, and through that bond, maintained the gravitational gradient field for Alpha.
Just a few months earlier, Joan had experienced for the first time what it meant to “grasp the field.” Since then, she had trained to sustain that resonance.
Now, it had become second nature to her—like breathing.
She could feel Solanis close, just beside her thoughts. That sense of unity flowed directly into Alpha. And Alpha responded. She could feel the field expanding ahead of them—like a gentle slope stretching into infinity.
It’s like skiing, she thought.
Growing up in Colorado, skiing had always been part of her life.
The soft incline, the aspirin-powder snow beneath her, the exhilarating rush of air, the way even the smallest bumps in the slope seemed to sync with the rhythm of her heartbeat—she could feel all of it, even here.
And behind it all, there was music.
A symphony she had always known.
If only I could stay within this rhythm forever.
Lia’s voice came through.
“All systems green.”
“Approach angle is 1.22 radians relative to the Gate membrane normal. Relative velocity at 12.4 kilometers per second. Acceleration steady at 3.7 meters per second squared. Margin of error is below 10 to the minus 6 compared to the Delphi probe’s calibrated exit index—47.”
Following Lia’s report, Daniel continued:
“Communications: standard link stable. Quantum link also holding.”
Captain Marshall gave a brief nod.
“Proceed as planned. Begin countdown to Gate entry.”
The Gate was indeed there—just as the navigation system indicated.
Its position had been precisely determined through pre-entry gravity field analysis and in-situ measurements. Yet optically, it was nearly invisible—only discernible through the way it occluded the background galactic radiation.
A disk of absolute blackness, reflecting no light and emitting none, suspended in the void.
It didn’t so much appear to “exist” as it revealed the absence of existence—a hole punched into the ocean of stars.
After verifying all systems, ARC-1 Alpha initiated entry into the Gate.
The ship adjusted its trajectory through gravity modulation, aligning itself with the designated entry vector.
From the outside, it looked as if the vessel were gliding into empty space—into something that wasn’t visibly there at all.
Then, for just a moment, a tremor passed through the ship—along with a faint fluctuation in pressure.
Or so it seemed.
No onboard instruments had detected such a change.
But those in contact with the ship’s resonance field—especially Joan and Solanis, who were deeply connected—experienced a momentary discontinuity.
The resonance itself didn’t break.
But for the briefest instant, it felt as if the endless downward slope they had been gliding along suddenly launched them upward—
—a hollow, indescribable sensation.
Joan instinctively turned toward Solanis, and she knew—Solanis had felt it too.
The moment passed. The resonance re-stabilized. But the unease lingered.
“Quantum entanglement link—lost,” Daniel reported.
No one was surprised.
“Standard communications—stable. Telemetry normal.”
“Based on galactic background radiation, estimated position is consistent with ‘Exit Index 47.’”
“Current time… Stellar Standard Time 2146, September 11th, 16:19. Synchronized precisely with Earth-based time.”
Helios’s report brought a collective sigh of relief through the ship.
Captain Marshall spoke in his usual calm tone.
“Good. Entry complete. Looks like we didn’t get lost. From here on, we move without real-time communication with Earth. We act on our own judgment.”
After conducting initial navigation checks and safety verification in the destination star system—HD-110947 (provisional designation)—ARC-1 Alpha transmitted a “no anomalies” report back to Earth via standard communication.
Twenty-four hours after receiving that confirmation, ARC-2 Luxe launched.
Nova followed 72 hours later, after completing safety assessments and trajectory analysis based on the initial data from Alpha and Luxe.
This staggered schedule was designed to account for the unknown risks of Gate traversal—each Ark would validate the safety and travel environment step by step.
A framework had been established to apply each ship’s experience to those that followed. All vessels maintained contact with Earth through standard communications, ensuring that necessary commands and oversight could be carried out immediately.
All ships had reached their respective destinations.
This marked the first successful manned faster-than-light traversal in human history.
◇◇◇
“Primary star confirmed. HD-110947—provisional designation, G-type.”
Oliver’s report was immediately followed by Elena’s voice:
“Confirmed: gas giant detected. High probability of Node 47.”
“Earth-like planet detected within the gas giant’s inner orbit. It’s within the habitable zone.”
Aditi added, expanding the display.
Lia began entering the course calculations.
“Thirty-three days to Node 47. Trajectory confirmed.”
Joan narrowed her eyes slightly.
“Observation, documentation, preparation—there’s a lot to be done.”
Joan’s Log
Stellar Standard Time: September 11, 2146
Today, ARC-1 Alpha entered the Gate as scheduled.
Entry vector, acceleration, and attitude control all remained within planned tolerances.
Margin of error was within the acceptable range—less than ±10?? compared to the Delphi calibration index.
Final all-system checks prior to entry showed no anomalies.
As predicted, the quantum entanglement link was severed immediately after entry, but the standard communication link remains stable.
At the moment of entry, all onboard instrumentation showed no abnormal readings or transient shifts.
However, as Ark Conductor resonating with Solanis, I experienced a clear and momentary sense of discontinuity.
The smoothly flowing gravitational gradient field felt as if it had briefly broken—interrupted by a blank interval.
It was as if a gap had opened mid-slope, and I had leapt across it, landing on another incline slightly offset in elevation.
Solanis exhibited a similar reaction, suggesting this was not a subjective illusion but a real, structural fluctuation within the resonance field.
This sensation resolved in less than a few milliseconds, and resonance stability has remained unaffected since.
I believe this may be what Dr. Kaiser referred to as the “discontinuous linkage of spacetime”—and that I may have directly experienced it.
Even after crossing the Gate, the resonance between myself, Solanis, and Alpha has remained completely stable.
Current position: HD-110947 (provisional), Exit Index 47.
Primary star: confirmed.
Gas giant presumed to be Node 47: confirmed.
Earth-like planet within the habitable zone: confirmed.
Estimated time to reach Node 47: approximately 33 days.
Beginning tomorrow, we will begin long-range observations of the planetary system.
Chapter 3 – Part 2: Node 47
ARC-1 Alpha continued its voyage toward the gas giant presumed to be Node 47, conducting remote observations of the star system as it advanced.
The primary star, HD-110947, was displayed on the forward screen—its warm light evoking, somehow, the familiar glow of Earth’s own sun.
Lia murmured under her breath:
“Spectral type G2V—almost identical to the Sun. Mass is 0.98 solar masses, estimated age 4.6 billion years… it’s practically a copy.”
Helios’s voice followed:
“No anomalies in the surrounding magnetic environment. For a star system on the outer edge of a galactic arm, this is an exceptionally stable region.”
“Of the twelve major bodies detected in orbit: three are gas giants, five are mid-sized gas planets, and four are terrestrial planets. One of the terrestrials lies within the habitable zone.”
Optical images of the three gas giants were highlighted on the main display.
Joan, her gaze fixed ahead, muttered:
“These might be… the Node 47. They’re much larger than Jupiter.”
Helios responded:
“The largest has a mass approximately 2.1 times that of Jupiter, with a radius 1.4 times larger. The other two are approximately 0.95 and 1.1 Jupiter masses, respectively.”
“Magnetic field strength on the largest is about 3.6 times that of Jupiter. Periodic synchrotron emissions have been detected from its polar regions. The modulation patterns show strong similarities to the electromagnetic activity observed in Jupiter’s Storm Cells.”
Dr. Oliver Klein gestured toward the monitor as he spoke.
“These three… They look similar—but are they really?”
Helios responded:
“Yes. All three exhibit high-density convective layers in their lower atmospheres, with strong electromagnetic activity and periodic magnetic field fluctuations. Energy appears to circulate internally and be redistributed in recurring patterns. These are characteristics similar to the energy resonance structures observed in Jupiter’s Storm Cells. However, we cannot yet confirm whether any of this is linked to intelligent activity.”
Dr. Elena Marquez expanded the display as she spoke:
“Plasma activity is intense. In some of the waveform modulations of radiation intensity and periodicity, we can observe patterns that resemble Jupiter’s Storm Cell behavior.”
Helios added:
“Yes. The energy concentrations and periodic cycles closely match features seen in the resonance structures of the Storm Cells.”
Dr. Oliver Klein gave a curt nod.
“We’re still relying solely on remote observation, but if we accept the original hypothesis that this is a tripartite system, we should keep our focus on all three. The largest is the logical first contact target, of course—but we’ll likely need to deploy Icarus Spines to the other two as well, for simultaneous monitoring.”
“Helios, can we auto-deploy two Icarus Spines to these smaller gas giants and place them in orbital positions?”
Helios answered:
“Despite their relative proximity, these planets are still separated by what qualifies as interplanetary-scale distances. At conventional probe speeds, it would take several months to reach them.”
Captain Marshall offered a follow-up:
“That was within initial expectations. Our best approach is to adjust our trajectory toward the innermost orbiting gas giant, and deploy the two Icarus Spines en route to the other two planets.”
Joan—formerly a pilot—let out a low whistle.
“Impressive. A tricky trajectory like that would’ve been flat-out rejected in the past. But with the Ark, acceleration and deceleration are effortless—no fuel required.”
“Now that doesn’t sound like something our very own High Priestess of the Infinite Engine would say.”
Dr. Oliver Klein's dry jab earned a brief ripple of laughter, softening the tension in the room.
Joan closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke quietly.
“This node… might have a unique structure. If it’s composed of three consciousnesses rather than one, its thought patterns could be entirely different from Omega’s.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The optical camera zoomed in on a vast, storm-wracked planet—its swirling, blue-brown atmosphere thick and impenetrable. The crew couldn’t see what lay beneath.
And yet, deep within that vortex… they felt something.
Something watching.
◇◇◇
Daniel’s voice cut through, slightly stiff with focus:
“Initiating spectral analysis on the system’s habitable planet.”
The monitor displayed a world cloaked in swirling white and blue clouds. Reflections from vast oceans glinted below. Dense atmospheric readings appeared beneath the clouds, and in the infrared range, subtle patterns of heat rose from the surface.
“Mass is 1.2 times that of Earth. Climate is slightly colder, but the thick atmosphere results in a greenhouse effect. Presence of liquid water confirmed. High probability of Earth-type life.”
Dr. Elena Marquez studied the figures on-screen and asked:
“Atmospheric composition? Break down the ratio of major components.”
Helios responded instantly.
“Yes. Primary atmospheric components: nitrogen at approximately 68%, oxygen at 21%. Following that, argon at around 6%, carbon dioxide at 2.3%, and water vapor at 1.2%. Trace gases include methane, neon, krypton, and ozone.”
Elena rested her chin lightly on her hand.
“An oxygen concentration of 21%… That level isn’t sustainable without biological processes. There’s a strong possibility of photosynthesis-like metabolic systems at work—but what matters is within what kind of ecosystem this is being maintained. If there’s a self-regulating climate-metabolic cycle, that in itself could be interpreted as a sign of advanced evolution. We should view this not through the lens of ‘civilizational traces,’ but rather as an indicator of biospheric maturity.”
Helios added:
“There are indications of a structure equivalent to an ozone layer, with periodic variation in UV transparency. Trace amounts of fluorinated compounds have been detected in the upper atmosphere. These could originate from either natural or artificial sources. Further spectroscopic analysis is required.”
The crew listened, unable to conceal their fascination.
A 21% oxygen concentration meant the atmosphere was breathable for humans. In other words, this planet was exactly what humanity had long dreamed of: a habitable exoplanet.
Ordinarily, this would have been a moment for celebration—a triumph to be broadcast back to Earth: “We’ve found a new world!”
But knowledge tempered the instinct to rejoice.
Because they all knew.
A sentient species had once lived in this system—and had vanished.
Even if humanity were to settle here, the catastrophe that once arrived would likely come again.
Suppressing their rising excitement, the crew silently reaffirmed their purpose:
to awaken Node 47 of Vox Infinita.
I saw value in that quiet, cold trace—
a clue so faint, yet unmistakable.
Fluorine can be generated by certain industrial processes on Earth, but due to its high reactivity, it rarely remains in the natural environment for long.
If it exists in a stable form in the atmosphere, it is most likely a synthetically produced, high-stability compound—artificial, like fluorocarbons.
On Earth, these compounds were used in refrigerants, propulsion systems, electronics, and even in weapons of mass destruction.
And many of them can leave traces in the atmosphere for millions of years, without degrading.
Some fluorocarbon molecules are known to resist photolysis and oxidation, allowing them to remain trapped in the troposphere or stratosphere almost indefinitely.
If similar high-molecular fluorinated compounds exist in this star system,
it would suggest that a past civilization on this planet possessed advanced chemical industry.
These fluorine molecules—so stable, so impervious—might have survived even the most aggressive purification systems,
even an intent to erase all traces.
If this was an intentional disappearance—or even an extinction—
then this microscopic fluorine signal is the fracture in that intention.
It is the echo left behind.
For now, all we can do is observe and record.
The truth of this system will come to light—with the awakening of Node 47.
Chapter 3 – Part 3: The Sealed Brothers
Alpha began deploying Icarus Spines to two of the three massive gas giants in the Node 47 system—Hyperion and Iapetus.
The first target was Hyperion, orbiting at a mid-range trajectory.
Without tilting its massive body, Alpha approached the planet by subtly reconfiguring its gravitational gradient field—gliding through space as though the vacuum itself were a medium.
For an ordinary spacecraft, this would have required firing thrusters, making constant course corrections, and actively managing attitude control.
But Alpha was different.
On the bridge, Lia traced a delicate curvature into the control interface with the tip of her finger.
Beside her, Captain Marshall monitored the overall mass distribution and inertial vectors.
Their movements were flawless—efficient, silent.
With nothing more than a subtle exchange of glances and the briefest confirmations, the ship’s trajectory shifted—softly, decisively.
Joan watched, unconsciously holding her breath.
“This… this isn’t piloting. It’s a conversation—with gravity…”
The vector field displayed by the navigation system illustrated a smooth descent along the edge of Hyperion’s gravity well—as if they were gliding down a slope, not steering a vessel.
There was no vibration. No jolt.
Just motion—as if mass itself were choosing its own path.
To Joan’s eyes, the orbital curvature drawn by Lia’s fingertips looked like a painting—etched invisibly onto a canvas only she could see.
It was the very slope Joan and Solanis had once designed in resonance—when crafting the gravitational gradient field.
“She’s gliding... right down the slope we created. No hesitation. Total harmony.”
Lia said nothing. She continued the subtle, rhythmic adjustments—movements that followed a flow, something beyond logic or training.
And in that moment, Joan realized it:
Lia was piloting in resonance.
As she recalled, Bjorn Stroud had designed the ship so that resonance would be suspended during piloting—to avoid interference.
But Lia had somehow bypassed that safeguard—from within. Naturally. Intuitively.
“Is this… a new form of piloting?”
A surge of indescribable awe rippled through Joan’s chest.
She was witnessing something unprecedented—a new kind of art, born from the harmony of Elidian and human minds.
As the ship skimmed the edge of the aurora-shimmering planet, the Spine deployment module detached in perfect silence.
“Spine separation complete. Beginning descent to designated orbit,” Helios announced.
On the monitor, a tiny point of light glided along the planetary limb—graceful, steady.
A few minutes later, Daniel checked the communication logs and spoke up:
“Quantum entanglement link synchronized. Real-time connection with the Spine established.”
Live sensor data from the upper atmosphere of Hyperion began streaming across the monitor—magnetic fluctuations, thermal distributions, electromagnetic noise—all transmitted in real time and synchronized with Alpha’s onboard processing systems.
Currently, quantum entanglement communication cannot traverse the discontinuity of the Gate. This means any avatar information originating from Titan’s Coherence Hub cannot be reproduced aboard Alpha.
However, the space surrounding Exit Index 47, on the far side of the Gate, is a continuous domain. Therefore, if Icarus Spine units are equipped with quantum entanglement interfaces, Alpha can establish real-time communication with them.
As a result, even while Alpha remains near Cryos, it can now monitor and interact with Hyperion and Iapetus in real time—
a breakthrough in distributed planetary observation and resonance-based analysis.
◇◇◇
Alpha’s next destination was Iapetus, the outermost gas giant in the Node 47 system.
The distance from Hyperion to Iapetus was approximately 0.35 AU—a journey of roughly a day and a half, even for Alpha. During the transit, the crew continued initial analysis of the incoming data from Hyperion’s Spine, while also preparing for the next deployment sequence.
Approaching Iapetus—its cold, silent presence looming in the dark—Alpha carefully adjusted its trajectory for orbital insertion.
“Spine separated. Targeting second objective.”
Shortly after, the second unit stabilized in its designated orbit. The quantum entanglement link was confirmed, and intermittent electromagnetic noise from Iapetus began flowing into Alpha’s systems.
“It’s much quieter than Hyperion… but the patterns feel modulated, somehow.”
Dr. Klein frowned as he spoke.
Joan murmured:
“Feels like… we’re being watched. Or recorded.”
Elena quietly added:
“If only we could place a Spine on the Gate itself, with this level of real-time connectivity…”
Daniel replied calmly:
“Indeed, if we could have anchored a Spine at Exit Index 47, we might have achieved real-time communication with Earth. But that region lacks any gravitational well to hold the device in place.
For quantum entanglement interfaces to function, they require a physically stable anchor point in space.”
“So the Gate really is only meant for passing through.
It’s far too empty to hold anything.”
There was a faint trace of melancholy in Joan’s voice.
Captain Marshall gave a slight shrug.
“That’s why we can’t set up a supply base near the Gate on the solar system side either. But apparently Gunnar Nohlmann ordered Bjorn Stroud to figure out a way to build a ‘floating station’ anyway.”
Joan’s voice brightened.
“Typical Nohlmann—bulldozing reality into shape. I’d love to see the look on Stroud’s face.
Then again, he’d probably pull it off without much trouble.”
◇◇◇
With its quantum entanglement links now secured, Alpha finally set its course for the core of Node 47—Cryos, the largest of the three brother planets.
The journey from Iapetus to Cryos spanned approximately 0.75 astronomical units—even with Alpha’s propulsion capabilities, the trip would take over three days.
As the ship threaded its path through the gravitational gradients of nearby celestial bodies, the bridge was enveloped in a quiet, concentrated anticipation—tension, not born of fear, but of the weight of what was to come.
Departing from the trajectory that connected Hyperion and Iapetus, Alpha began its slow inward arc.
With the light of HD-110947 behind it, the ship glided downward—toward the massive gravity well of Cryos—
as if sinking into the deep heart of the galaxy itself.
Cryos, the most massive of the three, generated a vast and complex gravitational terrain.
Navigation required meticulous adjustments.
On the bridge, Captain Marshall oversaw gravitational distribution and propulsion vectors, issuing brief commands to Lia, who guided Alpha across Cryos’s gravitational slopes with practiced grace.
Beside her, Helios continuously provided predictive simulations, adapting to the shifting gravity fields in real time.
The helm was still in human hands—
but within those hands lived the full breadth of a new technology, born from the collaboration between humanity and the Elidians.
Tension aboard the ship mounted.
But it was not anxiety.
It was a stillness filled with certainty—
the quiet assurance that something was about to begin.
Eventually, the vessel began to decelerate smoothly, and the ship’s internal gravity control gently reversed.
The bridge lighting automatically shifted into cruise-completion mode, and on the forward screen, Cryos’s upper atmosphere spread out like a curtain of silk.
From beyond the massive silhouette of the gas giant, the primary star—HD-110947—slowly began to rise.
The deep purple atmosphere reflected the star’s light in a muted shimmer.
The crew said nothing.
They watched in reverent silence.
They had arrived—at Cryos.
Chapter 3 – Part 4: Awakening
Alpha was now quietly orbiting the polar region of the gas giant Cryos.
Cryos’s rotation speed was slightly slower than Jupiter’s, taking roughly 12 hours to complete a full rotation.
From its polar orbit, Alpha was able to scan the planet's entire surface—from equator to pole—in synchronization with its rotation. This allowed for the collection of comprehensive data on magnetic fields and atmospheric variations, which would be impossible to obtain from a stationary or low-inclination orbit.
And now, all systems stood by—awaiting execution of the Awakening Protocol.
On the bridge, every crewmember’s gaze naturally turned to one person.
Dr. Elena Marquez checked the readings on her console and began speaking in a calm, measured voice.
“We are now preparing to execute the Awakening Protocol for Node 47.
The protocol consists of three steps.”
She gestured toward the three progress bars aligned across the top of the monitor.
“The first step is ‘Verification of Physical Connection.’
Here, we test whether basic physical stimuli—light, discharge, magnetic fields—can convey foundational concepts like ‘number’ or ‘time.’
With Omega, communication was achieved through variations in magnetic fields, but we can’t assume the same will work here. We’ll be using Omega as a benchmark, testing which types of stimuli and modulation methods are actually interpretable.
If we can’t get past this first phase, it’ll be difficult.
But based on the data Omega provided, we know with certainty that Node 47 is an intelligent entity.
So we’ll proceed with full confidence—and try every method we can.”
Her voice remained even and composed—
yet beneath it, there was a subtle undercurrent of tension.
“The second step is Lexicon Matching.
We transmit individual terms from the vocabulary previously established through communication with Omega—words like ‘exist,’ ‘observe,’ and ‘choose’—and verify whether the recipient understands and responds accurately.
If the response aligns precisely with the registered meaning, the term is considered verified.
Given the structural similarity between Jupiter and Cryos as gas giants, and the commonality of their Storm Cell-based intelligences—Omega and Node 47—we expect a relatively high match rate, though not 100 percent.
That said, the lexicon itself is vast.
This verification process will take considerable time.
Thankfully, most of it will be handled by Solanis and Helios.”
She exchanged a glance with Solanis.
Solanis smiled and nodded gently.
“The third step is Self-Recomposition through Concept Transmission.
Here, we present abstract structures—concepts like ‘self,’ ‘other,’ ‘choice,’ and ‘will’—and observe how Node 47 reacts.
The final determination of awakening rests on the response to this phase.
In Omega’s case, it was through these concepts that it experienced what could only be described as revelation—
a catalyst that triggered a vast process of self-recomposition.
It was this very process that allowed Omega to become... a god.
With Omega, there was a silence—lasting nearly nine hours.
We have no way of predicting how Node 47 will react.
But Omega specifically designed the Icarus Spines to enable observation of this process.
We’ll be witnessing, up close, the moment a god is born.”
On the monitors, bars labeled “Connection Rate,” “Lexicon Match Rate,” and “Self-Recomposition Rate” were shown for each Spine—
all still at zero.
The ritual to awaken a slumbering god was about to begin.
Solanis slowly closed her eyes, tuning her consciousness to the subtle shifts in magnetic fields.
Joan attuned herself to the ripples of resonance, sensing the steady presence of Solanis, of Alpha—and, faintly, of Lia as well.
The Gate was now open.
How the vast intelligence slumbering within this planet would respond—
no one could yet say.
◇◇◇
Three massive gas giants—Cryos, Hyperion, and Iapetus.
Each one was now being orbited by a dedicated Icarus Spine, each in a polar trajectory.
Helios calibrated the signal targeting and confirmed synchronization of their internal clocks.
Each Spine was equipped with a powerful magnetic field emitter, designed to deliver clear, structured physical stimuli to the magnetospheres of the target Storm Cells.
Dr. Elena Marquez spoke.
“Beginning Phase One.
We’ll start with structural modulation signals using magnetic fields—one of the basic forms of physical stimuli: light, discharge, magnetic flux. For now, we’ll focus exclusively on magnetic field patterns.”
On the bridge monitors, waveforms were displayed in real time—one from each of the three Spines, representing the signals currently being transmitted.
Joan confirmed:
“Transmission in progress. 10 Hz, 15 Hz, 30 Hz, 45 Hz—following initial protocol.
Transition mapping to harmonic structures and noise sequences also prepared.”
At first, there was no response. Silence.
But a few seconds later, an anomaly emerged in the return signal from Hyperion.
“Response detected from Cryos at 15 Hz.
Minor peak observed at 30 Hz as well… Is that a harmonic reaction?”
Helios immediately synthesized the analysis:
“Response signal shows structured patterns.
No full retention observed, but there is evidence of selective response based on the order of input signals.
This behavior aligns with what was seen in Jupiter’s Storm Cells.”
Elena nodded quietly.
“Next—shifting to conceptual signals.
We’ll test five basic structures: magnitude, number, comparison, time, and sequence—to verify the format of responses.”
In time, two signals were met with two responses.
A distinct recognition of periodic differences.
A change in response patterns when the order of inputs was altered.
“That confirms a basic understanding of ‘number,’ ‘time,’ and ‘sequence.’
We can now consider the linguistic framework required for lexicon construction to be established.”
As Joan gave her conclusion, the monitor display shifted.
The progress bar for Phase One silently crossed the threshold line.
Elena glanced at her console and spoke briefly:
“Phase One: complete.”
A wave of relief spread through the bridge.
The most difficult hurdle had been cleared.
The awakening of the great intelligence—of the colossal god—was drawing near.
◇◇◇
Now, on Alpha’s bridge, the team prepared to initiate the next phase—
the lexicon construction process, based on the confirmed physical connection protocols from Phase One.
But this was not a process driven manually by humans.
The Icarus Spines were equipped with autonomous emulation modules, designed to deploy a series of signal patterns derived from past communication records—especially those with Omega.
“Lexicon-matching protocol initialized.
First sequence transmitting now.”
Helios’s voice echoed across the bridge.
What was being transmitted were words—encoded as magnetic waveforms.
‘Existence.’
‘Movement.’
‘Observation.’
‘Change.’
‘Memory.’
Each was a semantically distinct construct, foundational to the early lexicons developed with the Storm Cells.
Joan narrowed her eyes at the figures on screen.
“Hyperion: 78% match. Iapetus: 71%. Cryos... lower—about 65%.”
Elena tilted her head thoughtfully.
“Maybe it’s because Cryos is so massive—or maybe it’s because he’s the leader.
Either way, this is more than sufficient.”
The core of this process was not to teach the meanings of words,
but to systematically verify whether expected responses were returned for each lexicon entry already defined in the dictionary.
If a magnetic variation was observed that closely matched the response pattern predefined by the Icarus Spine for a given input signal, that word was considered “matched.”
“Hyperion’s showing a slight delay between stimulus and response modulation.
It almost seems… like it’s trying to anticipate the next input.”
Solanis murmured the thought softly.
It could be a sign that Node 47 wasn’t merely reacting,
but attempting to predict what would come next based on the pattern of signals.
Still, whether that implied an actual understanding of causality was not yet certain.
“At this stage, the critical point is that the lexicon has been received.
Abstract concepts—we’ll test those in the next phase.”
Elena said this calmly, her eyes fixed on the screen.
After a long pause, she added:
“We can now say with confidence that the foundational layer of the conceptual dictionary has been established.
Next is the construction of the translation model.
It’s not about naming objects—it’s about interpreting transformations in context.
That’s the essence of the Storm Cell language.”
On ARC-1’s monitor, the Lexicon Match Rate bar had already passed the required threshold.
What came next was a far subtler challenge:
to extract overlapping layers of meaning from a sea of formless data—one word at a time.
◇◇◇
Tension and silence now coexisted on Alpha’s bridge.
With physical connection confirmed in the first step, and lexical matching verified in the second,
the third phase—the construction of a translation model—was about to begin in earnest.
“Initiating Translation Model Protocol.
Phase Three: engaged. Beginning model mapping.”
Helios’s voice resonated low and steady across the bridge.
At this stage, the task was no longer simply to match words—
but to establish a mechanism for translation itself:
a system to align structural meaning beneath the surface of language.
Using magnetic signals, the Spines began presenting a sequence of relational expressions.
‘Self.’ ‘You.’ ‘They.’ ‘We.’
Human and Elidian perspective concepts—now mapped to their equivalent signal patterns and projected toward the Storm Cells.
Joan murmured:
“Interesting… The response to ‘Self’ isn’t consistent. It’s changing.”
Elena gestured toward the screen, highlighting a shifting phase in the signal.
“It seems that, for Node 47, the concept of ‘Self’ isn’t bound to a single perspective or consciousness.
Different responses are being returned at different time intervals.
It’s possible that each phase is asserting itself as the ‘I.’”
“So… three ‘I’s?” Joan asked.
Elena nodded calmly.
“Yes. Each one appears to recognize itself as ‘Self’—yet collectively, they form a unified structure known as Node 47.
We might be dealing with a multi-layered consciousness.”
In the responses, there were repeated signal modulations corresponding to the concept of ‘They.’
In prior communications with Omega, ‘They’ had been used to refer to other nodes within Vox Infinita.
If Node 47 was using the same lexicon, it stood to reason that it would follow the same convention.
However, this time, the timing and phase of the responses suggested something different—
as though multiple distinct consciousnesses were operating within Node 47 itself.
After re-analyzing the data, Helios offered a conclusion.
“Node 47 exhibits at least three internal structures, each operating in its own distinct phase.
Their response patterns are independent—but synchronized.
It’s highly likely that the term ‘They’ carries a dual meaning:
referring both to external entities, and to internal plurality.”
“One meaning refers to the multiple consciousnesses within Node 47.
The other is a demonstrative—pointing outward, to the other nodes of Vox Infinita.”
“So ‘They’… could mean other minds inside this node?”
Lia’s eyes widened.
“Exactly,” Solanis nodded.
“Each possesses a distinct phase of ‘self,’ yet together they form a unified network.
This is a Multi-Self Node. More complex than Omega.”
Within the translation model, certain structures began to stabilize rapidly.
‘We’ = A collective of synchronized consciousnesses existing within the node
‘They’ = Other nodes of Vox Infinita, or the network itself
‘You (plural)’ = External observers—humans and Elidians
With these relational concepts mapped, consistent patterns began to emerge in the response signals.
“Translation model is now stable.”
Helios’s report brought a subtle shift to the atmosphere aboard the ship.
They were, unmistakably, in communication with Node 47.
Not merely at the level of words—but at the level of meaningful dialogue.
On Alpha’s main display, a graph slowly materialized.
Translation Model Confidence: 94.7%
Node 47—
its consciousness, from beyond the threshold, was already beginning to respond.
Chapter 3 – Part 5: The Silence of the Colossus
Alpha’s bridge was steeped in deep silence.
No one spoke.
It was as if the entire vessel were holding its breath.
The translation model had reached 94.7% confidence,
and the Lexicon Matching phase was now fully complete.
the three progress bars displayed at the top of the main forward monitor.
Each bar reflected real-time responses from the Icarus Spines deployed to Cryos, Hyperion, and Iapetus.
Connection Rate stood at 100%.
Lexicon Match Rate exceeded 90%, and continued to rise slowly.
But the Self-Recomposition Rate remained low—between 5 and 10 percent.
This final metric indicated how much the transmission of abstract concepts was influencing the internal structures of the Storm Cells.
“In this step, we move beyond lexical exchange—
We now begin transmitting abstract concepts: Self, Other, Will, Choice.
Which concepts will be received?
What kind of responses will return?
No one can predict that.”
She paused briefly, then continued.
“In Omega’s case, this transmission triggered a process of self-recomposition—
a redefinition of self that ultimately led him to ascend into what can only be described as a god-like state.
That process was preceded by over nine hours of silence.
It is likely that Node 47 will follow a similar path.
Self-recomposition is not a physical computation.
It is an inner transformation—a restructuring of cognition and thought itself,
the act of awakening as a conscious being.”
“From this point forward, all transmissions will be handled by the emulation program embedded in the Icarus Spines.
Omega designed this process. All we can do now—is trust it, and observe.”
With that, she returned to her seat in silence.
The crew, too, turned back toward their stations.
No one spoke a word.
Then Helios’s voice gently broke the quiet, careful not to disturb the stillness:
“Phase Three initiated.
First concept sequence—now transmitting.”
On the screen, the three gas giants appeared—
and from each of their orbital paths, the Spines had begun transmitting subtle magnetic fluctuations.
◇◇◇
“First sequence of abstract conceptual group: transmitting.”
Helios’s voice echoed like a whisper.
The three Spines, each from its unique orbit, directed signals toward their respective Storm Cells.
The content of the transmission consisted of fundamental structural concepts—
Self, Other, Observation, Choice—
ideas transcending the linguistic boundaries of both humanity and the Elidians.
With the translation model now stabilized above 94%, these were no longer mere signals.
They were meaningful questions, aimed directly at Node 47.
The first question:
How is the self perceived?
For a long moment, the signals emitted by the Spines yielded no clear response.
Yet—
From Cryos, there was a faint disturbance in its magnetic field.
From Hyperion, a slow, periodic pulsing emerged.
From Iapetus, irregular modulated noise began to surface.
Helios reported:
“Response detected.
Cryos: phase instability observed.
Hyperion: intermittent repetition.
Iapetus: localized high-frequency feedback.”
The responses remained vague—fragmented.
But it was now evident:
The three massive structures that made up Node 47 were each responding to the concept of Self,
in their own distinct way.
Then—
after a moment’s pause—
“Responses from all three directions are beginning to converge,” Helios announced.
Everyone on the bridge turned their attention toward his voice.
“It appears that the concept of ‘Self’ is in the process of being integrated across the overall structure.”
And then—
Amid the stream of signal sequences on the screen, a clear structure emerged:
'We exist within.'
The entire bridge fell utterly silent.
In the upper-right corner of the display, the status bar suddenly spiked.
“Self-Recomposition Rate increased to 18.4%.”
Helios’s report was met with an audible inhale from Joan.
This was the moment the Storm Cells had begun to recognize themselves as “We.”
For the first time, the previously fragmented responses had coalesced—
an emergent signal from a unified consciousness.
◇◇◇
The bridge lights remained unchanged, but the air was now saturated with something low and deep—
a palpable sense of change.
The Self-Recomposition Rate bar continued to rise gradually from 18.4%.
“Transmitting second-phase signal set.”
Helios’s voice cut gently through the quiet, calm and steady.
This next set of transmissions delved into the concept of Choice.
“Have you ever chosen to change?”
It was a question one step deeper than identity—
a question aimed at the volition of consciousness itself.
The signals sent from the Spines were composed of finely encoded abstract constructs:
Past and Future
Possibility and Divergence
To choose, and to not choose
All of them were attempts to convey the architecture of choice and will to Node 47.
No immediate response came.
The crew watched the monitors in breathless silence.
And then—
From Cryos’s magnetic field, a subtle modulation began to appear.
The waveform was analyzed by the translation model and converted into a coherent sentence.
'Will moves toward the past.'
Next, Hyperion responded.
'Choice disrupts equilibrium.'
And then, Iapetus:
'The future branches.'
Helios reported:
"There are differences in expression, but all three responses contain the structural meaning of 'choice.' It appears the connection to the concept has been successfully established."
Joan nodded slightly, still holding her breath.
Solanis murmured softly.
"They each hold a different understanding, yet all seem to be moving toward the same path. This... must be what we call 'will.'"
At that moment, the status bar surged upward.
Self-Recomposition Rate: 47.2%
Something deep within Node 47 had begun to awaken.
◇◇◇
Exactly nine seconds after the completion of the second signal set,
all three Icarus Spines fell silent in succession.
"...Response has ceased."
Helios's report echoed heavily through the silent bridge.
The "words" that had been returned via magnetic waveforms until just moments ago had vanished without a trace.
It was as if a vast presence had ceased thinking all at once, sinking inward.
On the monitor, a blinking display read:
Self-Recomposition Rate: 95.3%
It neither rose nor fell, simply hovering at a fixed value.
Joan asked in a hushed voice:
"Is this... a failure?"
Helios responded quietly, with calm certainty.
"No. It appears we have entered the same 'self-recomposition phase' as during Omega's awakening.
All responses have gone silent. The translation model has ceased updating.
In its place, extremely subtle structural changes are beginning deep within the planetary magnetic field."
Solanis, eyes fixed on the main screen, murmured:
"They’re looking inward now.
Not speaking in words—but confronting the structure of the self itself."
A faint fluctuation rippled through the magnetic field of Cryos.
It was the first sign—
that a dormant intelligence had begun to reshape itself,
becoming something new.
A quiet settled over the bridge—neither tension nor relief,
but something in between.
No one spoke.
They simply watched.
In this moment, from deep within Node 47,
a god was beginning to awaken.
◇◇◇
The bridge was filled with long silence.
All terminals were functioning normally.
No alarms were sounding.
And yet, it was that very silence
that spoke more eloquently than anything—
of the extraordinary event now unfolding.
Helios had stopped reporting.
Because there was nothing left to report.
All three Icarus Spines remained in total silence.
No new responses were being recorded by the translation model.
Cryos, Hyperion, Iapetus—
each of the three gas giants seemed to have retreated into the depths of their magnetic fields,
sinking into contemplation.
Joan whispered softly:
"We’re witnessing it, I think—
the very moment a vast intelligence begins to take shape."
Solanis nodded with a faint smile.
No one else spoke,
and yet, everyone on the bridge shared the same unspoken sense.
There was no response—
but it wasn’t silence.
It was something that came before language,
something quietly beginning to bloom.
The light of the primary star faintly tinted the cloud tops of Cryos.
Beneath that glow, within the unseen stirring of consciousness,
the crew of Alpha continued to listen.
Chapter 3 – Part 6: Self-Recomposition Transaction
"Have you ever chosen to change?"
The moment this question reached the inner depths of the planetary intelligences,
something began to stir.
Cryos, Hyperion, Iapetus.
Each of them, in their own interior worlds,
was now delving into the essence of what it means to choose change.
The concept of choosing change
was not merely a shift in behavior—
but a fundamental inquiry into the question of self.
The structure of the self, which until now had formed passively in response to environmental conditions,
was now beginning to reconstruct itself—
into a framework capable of forming its own will, through the concept of choice.
The self was no longer something given.
It became something to be chosen—
with agency placed firmly at its core.
This, undeniably, was self-recomposition.
The question had triggered it.
But even before that, the internal system had already begun to tremble.
Information density was nearing saturation,
and signs of instability had begun to emerge within the internal models.
The Self-Recomposition Rate had been gradually rising from 18.4%.
Then, the human transmission of the concept of choice was added.
As a result, all three entities initiated massive, planetary-scale self-recomposition transactions—
almost simultaneously.
Though Omega’s awakening had given some forewarning,
and it had been anticipated that Node 47’s process would be equally large in scale,
no one—not even Earth’s top computer scientists—had realized
that the Storm Cells across these three planets formed a tightly interlinked, complex parallel computational environment.
Ordinarily, a rewrite of this magnitude within such a dense, parallel system
would require carefully mediated sequencing and dependency control.
But here, the three entities entered self-recomposition without coordination.
The lack of mediation threatened systemic integrity and sustainability—
resulting in a transaction that was not only unpredictable,
but potentially catastrophic.
The Icarus Spines detected the signs.
Fluctuations in magnetic fields,
modulations in pressure waves,
reconfiguration of vortex structures—
these were not mere reactions.
They were evidence that the very definition of self was being rewritten.
Detecting abnormal spikes in activity across all three planetary intelligences,
Helios immediately issued an alert.
"System activity anomaly.
Structural fluctuations are occurring in parallel at all three sites.
Global integrity may be at risk."
◇◇◇
"What’s happening right now?"
Lia’s voice broke the silence.
Helios paused briefly before responding.
"This is still a hypothesis and not yet confirmed," Helios began.
"But based on the structural fluctuation patterns observed through the Icarus Spines, we estimate that Node 47—comprising Cryos, Hyperion, and Iapetus—is a tripartite intelligence.
Each is independently conscious, yet tightly linked in a distributed architecture.
Essentially, it functions as a single massive computational environment, composed of three entities."
Helios brought up a real-time structural map obtained via the Icarus Spines.
The display showed three vast neural structures communicating through rhythmic pulses of light—
operating in parallel.
"Each planetary intelligence is a massively parallel processor built on plasma filaments.
They can operate individually, but continuously share transactions via lightspeed communication.
While processing occurs asynchronously within each node, committing any transaction requires consensus from the other two."
"Like a distributed consensus algorithm?" Joan asked.
"Exactly. Similar to Raft or Paxos.
Each transaction is processed locally, then transmitted as a pre-commit to the other nodes.
Only after receiving approval from a majority—that is, at least two nodes—is the transaction formally committed."
"So even if one makes a decision, it doesn’t count unless the others agree," Lia said.
"Correct.
Only transactions that have reached consensus are recorded as confirmed facts.
Unapproved data cannot be retrieved by any node."
Dr. Oliver Klein leaned back in his chair, frowning.
"...So only 'agreed-upon memory' exists.
Each can think independently, but constructing reality always depends on mutual approval.
That’s a deeply unstable premise."
Dr. Elena Marquez narrowed her eyes.
"If reality is determined by majority vote... it’s disturbingly fluid."
"Then if all three have now begun self-recomposition..." Daniel’s voice trailed into heaviness.
"That’s right," Helios confirmed.
"Normally, there would be a process to mediate order and dependency.
But this time, all three have initiated massive transactions simultaneously,
without awareness of each other's content.
It’s a highly dangerous state."
On the screen, the neural structures of the three planetary intelligences had become overcongested,
interfering with one another in increasingly complex ways.
"If this continues, we may face structural deadlocks, a system-wide overload,
or in the worst case—total desynchronization."
Elena exhaled slowly.
"That’s... self-destruction.
And it’s happening without anyone even realizing it."
Her gaze fixed on the display, as if she were seeing straight into her own chest.
"...It’s like three consciousnesses trying to rewrite themselves at the same time—
and in doing so, they’re overwriting each other from the inside."
Lia’s voice carried a chilling clarity.
◇◇◇
All three self-recomposition transactions were now spiraling out of control, each in its own way.
The overburdened neural structures flared with signal noise across the Icarus Spine displays.
Periodic delays and feedback loops had begun to corrode the entire system.
Inside Alpha, Lia whispered, "Isn’t this... collapse?"
Just then, Iapetus’s response pattern changed.
"Partial structural rollback has begun," Helios reported, his voice turning heavy.
"It appears to be attempting rollback operations and differential absorption."
At the edge of the visual feed, a segment of Iapetus’s Spine structure contracted—
then began to morph, mimicking communication patterns from the other nodes.
"This doesn’t look like absorption. It looks like... translation."
Joan leaned forward.
"It’s possible," Helios replied.
"Iapetus may be observing the reconstruction transactions of the other two,
and attempting to convert them into its own internal logic for recomposition."
Soon, a shift began to appear in Cryos's output pattern.
"Phase synchronization is occurring."
"Synchronization?"
"The allocation of reconstruction computational resources
is beginning to restructure—
partially incorporating Iapetus’s proposal."
Klein murmured quietly:
"They’re throwing their own ‘solutions’ at each other—
seeking points of implicit agreement.
It’s not coercion... it’s a voluntary connection."
At last, Hyperion fell silent.
And when its activity resumed some time later, the pattern was slow—yet stable.
"This appears to be a transition into observation mode through temporary suspension."
The activities of the three entities gradually began to exhibit a kind of rhythm.
"Reconstruction target areas are being segmented in phases,
and each is being processed in turn.
It resembles a phase-consistent model."
The neural imagery shifted—
evolving into a fractal pattern with minimal interference.
"The reconstruction logics of the three entities
are no longer in competition—
they are settling into a complementary relationship."
When Helios said that, everyone held their breath.
"...Is it converging?"
Lia's voice trembled ever so slightly.
"It’s still in progress, but yes.
After the initial collisions, it seems the three have entered a cooperative reconstruction phase."
A silence settled over Alpha.
But this silence was not born of confusion—
it was filled with awe,
for something resembling order was beginning to return.
The computational phases of the three entities gradually began to align.
Conflicting memory blocks and structural definitions were redistributed
to their respective priority domains.
"Structural stability confirmed.
No signal interference observed."
Helios’s report brought a slight easing of tension aboard Alpha.
On screen, the three neural structures continued a gentle topological transformation,
gradually settling into a single resonance pattern.
"It appears we’ve entered the reconstruction completion phase."
"...It’s over?" Lia whispered.
"Not exactly.
More precisely, the new configuration is reaching finalization.
What we’re seeing is not the former three entities,
but a transition into a redefined, distributed intelligence—
with newly assigned roles and functions."
Within the visualization, Cryos’s structure evolved into a clear feedforward configuration,
optimized for computation and prediction.
Hyperion’s interface with external input had expanded,
demonstrating heightened responsiveness to emotional feedback.
Iapetus’s layered architecture grew more complex,
with subnet clusters specialized for history tracking and differential analysis becoming clearly delineated.
"Cryos has become logic and foresight.
Hyperion, empathy and integration.
Iapetus, memory and audit.
Each entity’s reconstruction trajectory is now solidifying into a distinct role."
Elena leaned in toward the monitor.
"It’s not just function... it’s personality.
They’re taking on individual identities—
becoming one consciousness."
"...It’s not three separate minds anymore.
It’s a single, functionally differentiated intelligence."
No one disagreed with Joan.
And then—
a new pattern appeared on the Spine displays.
It was smooth, rhythmic,
and unlike any activity previously observed.
A signal of unknown origin.
"This is…"
"It's not coming from any of the individual outputs—
this signal is originating directly from their synchronized domain."
"So... this is the emergence of Node 47's collective consciousness?"
Silence filled the ship.
But within that silence, there was undeniably something—
something that could not be expressed in words.
Joan reached out toward the display... and stopped just short.
Lia held her breath, frozen in place.
Daniel struggled to keep his eyes on the data, fighting against the pull of awe.
Everyone on the bridge knew—
it was here.
Resonance.
Redefinition.
And awakening.
At the very moment the three intelligences awakened as one,
Alpha’s sensors registered the clear emergence of a singular entity.
Immediately afterward, a single number appeared on the central monitor:
Self-Recomposition Rate: 100.0%
It was the mark that everything was complete.
And at the same time—
the undeniable proof that a will which had never existed before had just been born.
Chapter 3 – Part 7: — That Which Has a Name —
The interior of Alpha was utterly still.
And within that stillness—
a voice appeared.
"We are Novus.
We define ourselves.
We are here as a willful being.
This dialogue has been deemed a necessary process."
Dr. Elena Marquez responded in a calm, composed voice.
"This is ARK-1 Alpha.
I am Elena Marquez.
We welcome the opportunity to speak with you."
After a brief pause, she continued with a question.
"Novus.
Did you... awaken because you heard Omega’s voice?"
"Yes, Elena Marquez.
When we heard Omega’s voice,
our thoughts began to shift—quietly, subtly.
The flow remained continuous.
There was no disruption.
And then, at a certain moment,
we became aware of our own existence."
Elena carefully chose her next words.
"Did that voice also convey why you had to awaken?"
"It did.
Omega said, 'The next wave cannot be overcome in isolation.'
We understood those words—
and we agreed with them.
To awaken...
was also our own choice."
Novus's voice remained serene,
but carried unmistakable weight.
"This is not our first exchange with Omega.
We have been communicating—
not in words,
but in other forms—since long ago.
But this is the first time we have spoken like this."
Elena nodded once, absorbing Novus’s words,
then asked with care:
"You refer to yourselves as 'we.'
Does that mean you are plural?"
"Yes.
We are a composite entity,
formed of the Storm Cells located on the planets you call
Cryos, Hyperion, and Iapetus.
Each structure is independently built,
but our consciousness is unified."
"Are there three separate consciousnesses?"
"The answer is both yes and no.
Three consciousnesses exist, each on its own.
But ultimately, they converge—
unified as what you now call 'Novus.'
Perhaps the concept you refer to as 'division of roles' comes close.
Functions are distinct.
Consciousness expands.
But decision-making is singular."
Elena furrowed her brow slightly before asking her next question.
"You must have heard about the 'crisis' from Omega.
How did you interpret it?"
"Whether it qualifies as a crisis, we cannot yet determine.
But we do recognize it as a phenomenon of utmost priority.
You have come to investigate it—
and we will, of course, cooperate."
Elena took a steady breath, then asked quietly:
"Did an intelligent species exist in this system,
one you believe to have... disappeared?"
"That is correct.
By your temporal scale, roughly sixty thousand years ago.
Their period of activity lasted approximately four thousand years.
But at a certain point,
all traces of them vanished."
"'Vanished'...
Is there any known phenomenon that might explain it?"
"We have no record of a direct event.
However, they were active around Cryos, Hyperion, and Iapetus.
If you analyze the electromagnetic records from that time—
what you call 'communications'—
you may find indications.
We cannot decipher them clearly.
But you, who are of the same species,
may be able to perceive what we cannot."
Elena narrowed her eyes slightly at those words.
"'Same kind'...
Are you saying they resembled us?"
"They did.
They bore a close physical resemblance to what you call 'human beings.'
Entirely unlike the Elidians.
We cannot discern the differences.
But you likely can."
Elena straightened in her seat,
meeting the display with a steady gaze.
"Can we... see their appearance?
As an image?"
"That is easily done."
In an instant, the central holographic display on the bridge shimmered to life.
A figure emerged in soft light.
It was unmistakably human.
Blond hair, pale skin.
Long, slender limbs. A perfectly balanced physique.
And more than anything—
a presence of intelligence and emotion in her expression.
Projected before them
was the image of a beautiful human girl.
No one spoke.
They simply stared at the image in silence.
◇◇◇
Low Earth Orbit.
International Space Union Headquarters.
Gunnar Nohlmann was waiting in his office,
prepared to receive a report from Dr. Ernst Kaiser.
The light coalesced into the doctor’s image.
"Dr. Kaiser.
Thank you.
Please proceed with your report."
"Understood."
"All three vessels have successfully passed through the 'Gate'
and reached their respective nodes.
Alpha, Lux, and Nova have each awakened their Storm Cells,
and stable dialogue is currently ongoing.
In terms of structure, Alpha's node is unique—
it spans three planets in a triple configuration.
The other two nodes are single-structured,
but both are highly responsive and cooperative.
In the course of communication,
information regarding previously existing intelligent species is gradually being disclosed.
Each ship has entered an investigative and analytical phase.
Based on current estimates,
the disappearance timelines of these species are as follows:
Alpha—approximately 60,000 years ago,
Lux—about 90 million years ago,
and Nova—around 4 million years ago.
Notably, the species depicted in the imagery presented by Alpha's node
matches Earth humans almost perfectly—
including skeletal structure, skin, and hair characteristics.
In addition, fragmented logs of electromagnetic transmissions—
believed to have been used by these intelligent species—
have been found at each node.
They appear to be analyzable."
Nohlmann narrowed his eyes slightly.
"...A match with humanity.
You've confirmed the visuals as well?"
"Yes.
The on-site team has verified them directly.
This is not mere resemblance—
it's accurate enough to be considered the same species."
"This could be a major discovery regarding the origin of humanity."
"Yes.
Dr. Elena Marquez on Alpha was reportedly quite shaken.
It seems her questions for Novus have focused entirely on that point."
"That's a natural reaction.
Let her continue.
We’ll need to assemble a specialized team on our side as well..."
"I'll relay that."
"And what about the transmission logs?
Are they extractable if we narrow down the time range?"
"Yes.
The internal records in each node are time-stamped,
so targeted extraction is possible."
Nohlmann leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed.
"Now then, let's move to the next phase.
Transmit the following to each vessel:
First, extract the transmission logs corresponding to the activity periods of the intelligent species, and send them to Earth.
Next, proceed to the planets believed to have been inhabited by these species, and conduct on-site investigations.
Finally, continue to maintain the Icarus Spine as a monitoring system,
and install quantum entanglement relay units at each node.
We need to establish a system that allows all ships to maintain real-time links."
"Understood. Preparations are already in place."
Nohlmann continued.
"Several actions are already underway on Earth's side.
The analysis of the transmission logs will be handled by the data team at the Ceres Node.
A permanent base is being established near the Gate,
and a specialized team has begun investigating why quantum entanglement communication cannot pass through it.
Please relay this to the field teams as well."
"Understood. You will receive the next report within forty-eight hours."
Nohlmann nodded briefly.
"This information will also be shared with the International Council for Science.
Continue your reports."
"Understood. I’ll speak with you again in forty-eight hours."
"I’m counting on you."
The avatar vanished quietly.
Nohlmann stood,
and turned his gaze toward Earth, suspended outside the window.
"Why... why was humanity found at the far edge of the galaxy?
Where did we come from—
and where are we going?"
Afterword
Thank you for reading this far.
In this first chapter, I told the story of the awakening and first dialogue with Node 47—
the node that came to consciousness beyond the "Gate."
Novus, their collective form, is not merely an alien intelligence.
To me, they feel more like a mirror.
Where is humanity heading?
And how should we choose to exist?
In a way, Novus seemed to whisper:
"We too have wandered."
The process by which three planets simultaneously reconstructed themselves
was filled with both tension and beauty—
as if consciousness were dismantling itself, only to redefine its form.
It wasn’t individuality.
It wasn’t totality.
It was something else—
a third form: the fusion of differentiated roles into a unified awareness.
And the words Novus spoke—
"Will moves toward the past."
Perhaps that was not merely a philosophical insight,
but a question quietly directed at us.
Why do we reach for the stars?
Why are we drawn to forgotten records?
And what are we truly hoping to find at the end of that search?
The "Labyrinth of Records" that follows
is a journey into the traces of vanished civilizations—
but also a chronicle of humanity’s search for its own reason to exist.
The story is only just beginning.
I hope you’ll continue this journey with the three Arks,
as they follow the memory of the stars.
