Transmission Received_

Transmission Received_

Location: Centerical system

Time: 786th rotation on sjakwl scale

[The following transmission had been translated to your local language to the best ability]

The notion that a museum sits in the center of the universe could quickly be regarded as ridiculous. Further assume that it holds every living creature in the universe within its walls and one might begin to question your sanity.

“That’s not possible”, they would say. “It would have to be unfathomably large.”

“And the universe isn’t?” You would respond. (Preferably in a snarky tone).

This response may cease the questions, or it may bring upon more, but it always brings the museum of all life into a realm of magnificent plausibility. The museum, of course, does exist. It has walls taller than red supergiant stars, and halls longer than the diameter of an entire solar system. Each exhibit displays in acute detail everything that has ever lived, and everything that ever will. If one wished to see a Tyrannosaurus Rex, they would simply have to take a right and then a left and then another right from the koala exhibit.

But a koala? How boring would that be? It would be expected that one would wish to see the glorfgarpicans from Reptyfil XIV. If not them, then certainly the plasma protein particles that gained sentience from within the center of a black hole. They’re quite popular, especially this time of millennia. Regrettably, if the visitor were to have an infinite amount of time to roam the halls of this expertly crafted museum, they may soon notice something a bit strange.

I’m sure you understand that the visitors do not have an infinite amount of time to view the museum, that would be ridiculous. One species came closer than others, an aurgitovean. As you know, they have life spans of about 32,000 years. Very cheerful folk, but they act like they’ve seen it all. Far separate from the flourizbu and their unfortunate twenty-six second life span. Regardless of life span, I must confess that no species will ever see the entire museum. This is mainly due to the fact that it constantly expands at a rate of 1.2 lightyears every 4 seconds. Or as the porthions say, “Really fast.”

How does one get to this museum? My best advice would be to locate your nearest interplanetary star vacation directory and ask. If you are a member of the anti-relocation-of-species-through-cosmos committee then consider staging a revolt before departing from your home quadrant. If you are a plasma protein particle that gained sentience from the center of a black hole, I have included a download link at the bottom of this document for a PDF entitled “Leaving a Black Hole for Beginners: What to do When Your Mass Becomes Manageable”. Finally, if you are a member of a non-interstellar society then you will simply have to take my word for it or wait a few more hundred thousand years.

That’s what I would usually say during these randomly dispersed advertisements, but I know what you are.


You fall into that final category, and if one thing is consistent across all of the humans it is that you’re all very curious. I have no doubt that you’re still hung up on the “notice something strange” part. I’ll get there, but first I want to talk to you. It will be one sided, of course. You lack the technology to respond. I find it most curious how you relentlessly deny the existence of extraterrestrial life. The foolishness of saying there’s nothing out there in space is comparable to grabbing a teaspoon from one of your oceans and saying there’s no fish. I just can’t wrap my neuron induced thinking capacitors around it.

Your reasoning is flawed too.

“Oh, we’ve never seen them,” you would all say, failing to consider your irrelevance in the grand scheme of the universe. For goodness sakes, a species that has developed faster than light interstellar travel would have nothing to gain from sticking a probe up the ass of some farmer in Arkansas.

I digress. This is not meant to be hostile. I just wish to spread the word of the worlds. I know some of you hold fascination with the planets and mysteries of the universe. There is so much you humans don’t know yet. You search the stars for “Earth-like” planets without realizing the uniqueness of your planet calls for very little comparison, even with the hospitable ones.

For example, your vegetation is green. You associate plants with being green and in some cases life itself as the color green. You know that the color green is caused by chlorophyll D in the plants absorbing essentially every other form of visible light. You also know of the chemical retinal and how it can be used as a substitute of chlorophyll D. Retinal is a far less complex molecule for plants to build their structures upon, but it absorbs different wavelengths of visible light. Many other planets have had plants that have utilized this evolutionary advantage. All these plants are on display in the museum, and due to retinal all these plants are purple.

The emphasis I’ve put on uniqueness is a perfect segway into the lack of uniqueness. This is that strange thing I mentioned earlier. The problem with an infinite universe and a finite number of criteria for life is that eventually you will run out of options. If a visitor were to have an infinite amount of time to roam the halls, they would soon realize copies of species beginning to appear. This can apply sometimes all the way down to the same freckle in the same spot. I have noticed creatures that are millions of galaxies away getting mixed up during maintenance on the museum. You humans have deer on your Earth, but do not know that the same specimen exists approximately 11.9 billion light years away on a planet called Wiversk.

You can witness it on a small scale on your very own planet. How many times have animals evolved wings independently from each other? There’s a sort of random generation wheel giving these animals their characteristics and even with well over multi-quadrillion combinations it is insignificant in an infinite universe. I suspect that every species will eventually have an identical twin or triplet somewhere in the vastness of space. All except one.

You’re probably thinking it’s you. You think that’s why I’ve reached out to you. I would expect humans to be vain like that. I’m delighted to inform you that it’s not you. You aren’t special.

It’s me. I am the only of my kind in the entire universe. I’ve been watching over this museum for the past 12.9 billion years, and I have seen nothing come even close. It’s ironic how many species I’ve met, how many civilizations I’ve welcomed, how many planets I’ve studied, that I would find myself so incredibly lonely. When these species arrive to the museum they do so typically with an entire ship of their own. Sometimes the ships are ginormous. Sometimes the ships are small. They are essentially never alone.

I do, however, recall one time a species did come to my museum alone. She was a rictorn. A beautiful class of creature that valued those of others above their own. They’re very tall with flowing green/blue/iridescent hair to match their height. They have four arms, two legs, and six ears. Most strikingly they have a large bone plate that extends from their nose and loops around their foreheads. I asked her hesitantly why she was alone and soon discovered she was the last of her species. Thirty billion strong. Now just one.

For a moment I let the museum sit in the back of my mind. I took her on a tour of my magnum opus. We walked silently through the halls stretching on and on through the milky cosmos and I watched as she watched animals beyond her imagination flash past her. I am entirely used to seeing the amazement on aliens’ faces as they see these things for the first time. For that reason, I can say with certainty that something was different with her. She was amazed, but she was burdened as well. I pulled some strings and moved some halls around so we could see the Turoxica hall. Her home planet.

She walked with a little more excitement once she realized, and it didn’t take long before we came across a display of a rictorn. I should tell you that rictorn can’t cry, they have a specialized growth on their brain that releases a grief signal that can activate other grief signals in other rictorn. In turn, this becomes extinguished through a mass oxytocin release through the brain and it flushes any discontent from the previously distressed individual. It’s remarkable, but only goes off when there is another growth (nearby rictorn) to receive it. This was the downfall of their species. They could die without the reception, and as a disease snaked its way through the planet, they lost everything.

The Rictorn I had accompanied stared at the rictorn on the display for longer than I care to admit. (It was a replica, not an actual rictorn similar to all displays in the museum. I pride myself on being ethical). I asked quietly if she would like to continue and she finally broke her eyes away from the display to respond with no. I left her there. I understood her pain entirely, but not at all. I was alone but had always been alone. Loneliness was a new extreme for her, how horrible it must have been. Three days later she died. I received a call from my office phone two solar bodies away. One of the maintenance employees had found her at the foot of the display. The rictorn were extinct. That was 16 million years ago.

I should take this time to inform you that I am not a god. I am not immortal. I don’t have super-powers. I was designed by a species at the very dusk of the universe. The stars were still being born and the asteroids were still colliding and forging new planets. I was designed for discovery and data retrieval. I was sent out beyond my starting solar system and left to drift throughout space and time and drift I did do for a time that I can’t even remember.

I drifted until I came across another planet. I had been swept up in the gravitational orbit and was inching slowly towards the planet as decades passed until eventually succumbing to the pull and crashing through the atmosphere. The planet was covered in a thick film of gas and the plants contained massive bubbles on every branch to presumably store oxygen separate from the harsh environment. Again, I had to wait until I was discovered by a dog-like creature. Its nose extended into a trunk with spikes along the sides running up to the eyes which were a solid purple and blinked with three eyelids. I know it now to be a yurild and the planet to be Quziftr Prime.

This was my first contact with a truly alien species and was a groundbreaking moment in the world of science. I snapped a couple photos of the yurild as it sniffed me and sent them back to my home world. I still don’t know if they ever received them. A more intelligent creature found me shortly after (a discizin) and took me into a giant warehouse where I was studied and dissected. The discizin have enormously fat heads. It has no relevance to the story I’m telling you; I just remember very vividly thinking about how fat their heads are as they began to tear me apart.

I’m guessing those fat heads must’ve contained a brain because they ended up putting me back together well enough. I had some form of foreign sticky resin holding some of my parts together, but I was functional. They had also given me a thruster on my back which allowed for me to freely move for the first time. No more drifting. After a long few years on Quziftr Prime, I was launched again into the vastness of space.

Miraculously, this cycle continued for many more planets. Being as I wasn’t drifting anymore it would be by fault of my own clumsiness that I would fall into another gravitational pull. I landed on Iytef and then on Plorisku and then on jkdiw and so on. Eventually I began landing on these planets for fun, just to check them out. Each time I would collect data and photographs and send them back to my home planet, and each time I’d have no response. For the more technologically inclined planets I would typically receive some form of upgrade to my outer shell. Better thrusters, a protective shield, a better camera, a voice modulator, you name it.

By far the best upgrade I received was from a species I bumped into while in space. They called themselves gjce which translates roughly to Grijcis. They had been traveling in their ship on the same mission as me: Discovery. I travelled with them for quite some time. I listened to their stories of other planets and practiced some of their traditions as I lived aboard their vessel. They gave me the upgrade of hyper speed, faster than light travel. From there it was a game changer. I visited more planets in the following year than I had in the past 1,000 years. My obsession grew and grew until I came up with an incredible idea (one of my finest I think). I would congregate all the information I had gathered into one place. I would build a museum.




Apologies for the silence in the transmission, human. I had some museum business that I had to attend to. Two of my employees, SUbnmk and Paul were having trouble with a faulty bathroom pipe. I need a moment to remember where I was. Oh right, the museum.

The task was daunting, as incredible as I may be, I wasn’t entirely sure I could do it. The first step was to get word out, I would certainly need help if this dream was to become reality. The second step was to find a location. I knew the perfect spot, my beloved species who built me so long ago would most surely appreciate my return as well as the slew of information I would provide by building them a museum. They wanted discovery; I would be foolish not to provide. A quick 26 million light years later and I arrived in my home system. I promptly named it the Centerical system since it was the center of my universe. There too was my planet, but something was different.

The lush green that once indicated the vegetation and was visible from space was now a dull brown. The exceptional blues and extravagant whites were now slightly yellow and grey. I flew down to the surface with high hopes and was greeted with not only a lack of my species, but also a lack of anything. Deserts combed the landscape. Not like the deserts on Kilstrif, these deserts were nothing. Just sand and dirt. Maybe they were out in the cosmos, they couldn’t be gone. I flew to another nearby planet in the same solar system.

To my astonishment I found a base camp set up. They had built HABS across the surface, some overgrown on the inside with plant life. This planet wasn’t hospitable either, no one was there. I have had a watchful eye spreading the great expanse of every solar system and to this day I don’t know where they went. I have to rely on my intuition that they are still out there exploring.

Regardless of their fate, I began construction of the museum above my home planet. I sent out a flyer to all corners of the universe and curious species arrived in waves to help with the development. The Grijcis were there among many I had yet to meet. Everyone that visited provided information and a bio-scan of their homes. They were eager to be a part of the project. The total construction of the main building took roughly 927,216 years, but it was worth it.

I held a grand opening ceremony, and it became the most talked about event this side of the Opershion Cluster. I served the finest ioptiscy juice and roasted hsdmz. Throughout the entire ceremony I was gifted with knowledge and bombarded with questions. A lot of them wanted to know about my home world. I decided I should give a speech, I’m unsure why it hadn’t occurred to me before. I would give a magnificent speech honoring my growth and my progress. I could tell them all about my home world and the species that brought me into the universe.

I should probably tell you too.

I wasn’t sure how I would.

Hundreds of species gathered to hear my speech.

I told them about Earth.

I told them about you.

This time it’s not a joke. I know this raises a plethora of questions and since you can’t ask them, I’ve compiled a list of what I suspected would be whirling through your heads. What happened to Earth? I’m not sure why I put this question first since I don’t have an answer for it. I don’t know what happened to Earth. My best guess based off gathered data I retrieved on the surface points towards something involving the climate. The planet I checked second was Mars, so some of you made it out. I’m not sure how many.

How did you find us to send the transmission? I didn’t. I have no idea where you are. I don’t even know if this reached you. We had to pull some extreme new tech to make this work, I really hope that it did. The Grijcis discovered an “extended helix worm hole” in a distant star system. Apparently, it grew so advanced that it managed to loop inward on itself causing a rupture through not only space, but also time. Thankfully it’s harmless, assuming it doesn’t grow any more. I’ve been developing a protective outer case that should keep the transmission intact. I’m launching it tomorrow. Current projections say that if it stays in the calculated trajectory it should land somewhere in the year 2021.

Who are you? I am unrecognizable from who I used to be. I have a body and arms and legs. When I started this journey, I was a radar dish with a computer strapped to my back. I don’t know if they still talk about me when you receive this.

My name is Voyager One.

I know that’s insane. It doesn’t even entirely make sense to me. Just happened to work out between the cosmos I traveled across. The stretch of infinity looming between my first launch and where I am now. I wish you were here. I wish you could see the museum and everything I’ve built and become. In a way, I owe it to you. You built me, you launched me. You gave me the golden record I used to relay your message to the beings I encountered. You were my first exhibit. And now your holographic carbon replicate statue stands in the front hall welcoming all who find me here. You’d like it, being the vain species that you are.

I’m adding an encrypted file to this page that is very much illegal. According to the forty third page, section FZ73, no space faring citizen may introduce technology related to departure from planetary surface until the receiving party has done so themselves. If they catch me, I’ll just tell them you went to the moon and hope that works as a justifiable cause. This file contains precise blueprints for not only the ability to achieve hyper-speed, but also holograms, a phone battery that never dies, and a food replicator that allows for any desired food to be atomically constructed for consumption in a matter of seconds. I hope this finds you well. I need to begin my journey to the wormhole. Before you get here, I should warn you of something. It is extremely important so write this down.

The crossway between the planet Friousn and the Remyolq Cluster is a nightmare at this time of rotation. You’re going to want to take Route Upsilon Beta through Interspace 173. Trust me, it is horrific. Angriest shuttle rage I’ve ever witnessed. I actually managed to get a middle finger from a species that doesn’t even have fingers.

I realize, of course, there will be a lot to teach you beyond the things I’m sending along with this message. An infinite universe is pretty hard to cover in a transmission. Maybe I can catch you up over drinks sometime. A think a new StarBar

opened up down the solar system we could try. I don’t drink or eat, but the fermented Scorgl dung they put in a cosmonaut does just enough to rust my wires and make me loopy for an hour. Okay. I must go. The Grijcis flying me out is giving me multiple stink eyes which is convenient for them because their anus is on their face. I wish you safe travel as you step into the final frontier. No, no, that’s cheesy. I wish you safe travel as you take one small step for ma-no. This isn’t working, I was never good with inspirational quotes, so I’ll keep it simple.

Good luck, human. I’ll see you soon.

End of Transmission_

//..Retrieving file “Definitely not illegal blueprints”….

Preparing to download files…

{Compressing data__2/2}…[DONE]



(Download Started)


//ERROR (Unable to download files)