Welcome back. The Transcendence journey continues.
Chapter 11 – Time Compression
The crew started fanning out in awe, each trying to grasp what they had just experienced. They knew one thing for sure: whatever they thought they understood about okiogenesis or the Human Colony’s progress, they had to let it go. Clean slate.
Time to take everything in as true explorers, a real reconnaissance mission.
Linnea was already collecting small soil samples and leaves from every plant she could reach. She jumped in delight when she found a tiny flower that resembled chamomile, but with pink filigree petals and a dark magenta center.
Two small bright‑blue birds landed on a nearby pole, their soft rhythmic trills blending with the hum of the wind. By the time Linnea remembered to take a picture, they had already flown off, circling playfully above her as she froze with her hands lifted, caught in the missed‑photo moment.
Then, for a split second, the birds landed on her hands. She let out a sharp cry, surprise mixed with pure joy. She looked around, hoping someone had seen it, maybe even taken a picture. But everyone else was deep in their own wondering universe.
“Do you see the atmospheric data?” Linnea cracked through the comms. “I’ve never seen such… cleaned numbers!”
“How about the power output and the planetary energy distribution? It’s way off the chart! GAIA, how long until the closest HTS and HVPPG?” Gerth asked, scrutinizing the horizon and trying not to let her attention be stolen by the city that shouldn’t exist yet, not in her lifetime.
There was a small pause before GAIA replied:
“Nearest HTS‑rated surface interface lies at minus twenty‑three point seven by one‑zero‑five point two, relative to Hestian Prime. HVPPG proximity: two clicks.”
Elara pressed the private button on her comm.
“GAIA, are we using clicks now? Never mind… Any updates with… the contact? If there are any threats, immediately disengage. OK?”
GAIA did not answer.
“GAIA… report… Damn it… GAIA…”
“I’m here, Elara. Everything is in order. More details will come soon.”
Gerth, unhappy with the handheld display, pulled the tablet from her backpack. The route was already plotted by GAIA. She lifted her head, smiled at the silhouette on the horizon, turned around, and started running toward Lucas.
“Lucas… Lucas…” Gerth called out, forgetting they had comms. She barely made it a few meters before the extra gravity forced her to stop, exhausted. “I hate gravity…” she muttered, switching to a determined walk.
Finally, by chance, not because of her calls, Lucas noticed her struggling to reach him. His first thought was that something was wrong, but when he saw her face beaming with happiness, he knew it had to be something too exciting for Gerth to bother using the comm.
He stepped forward to meet her.
“Lucas…” she whispered, breathing heavily as if she’d just finished a 100‑meter hurdles sprint, trying to speak between exhales. “…can… we… access… the… rovers?”
Lucas couldn’t help smiling. He tapped a command on his wrist‑console, and the whirring sound of an electric motor made Gerth turn around.
“Do you mean this rover?”
Gerth turned back to him, trying to put on an annoyed face, but her happiness was too strong.
The comm opened with Henry’s voice.
“Gerth, pick me up, please. I want to see the tower too. But I don’t want to walk to the rover. One exhausted crew member is all we can afford right now.”
The comm closed a second too late, catching the beginning of laughter.
“You… you… Fine,” Gerth said, closing the channel. Then she whispered, to Lucas’ amusement, “I’ll deal with you later. Maybe you’ll walk back from there.”
“I’m in too,” said Edwin, stepping closer. “Did you know I worked on both a little bit? I never thought I’d get the chance to see it.”
One by one they boarded the rover and, judging by their lively gestures, they were definitely having an exciting conversation as they drove off, leaving behind a fine cloud of dust.
They’d been on the surface for a few hours—long enough for the awe to settle, but not for the adrenaline to fade. The sun had climbed higher into the tinted‑green sky, shadows shrinking as the steady pull of Hestia’s gravity pressed deeper into their bones.
The crackling sound that had started this whole experience returned through their comms, the same voice, the same inflections. “The Stranger’s voice,” as Francy called it.
“I hope your stay on Hestia’s grounds is enjoyable. We have prepared special suits to help you with the gravity. I was… delayed by important preparations. You are all invited to the Consensus Room in four hours. Coordinates have been provided to GAIA. See you soon.”
For most of them, hearing The Stranger was no longer surprising; if anything, they were surprised the message hadn’t come sooner. All except Elara. She was still waiting for GAIA.
“GAIA?”
“Dr. Song, how may I assist you?” GAIA replied, followed by a soft click—the sound of a channel switch. “You are on open comm, Elara. I thought you needed to know…” Another click.
Elara glanced at her wrist display and rolled her eyes.
“Are the coordinates loaded?” she asked quickly, then switched to private.
“Affirmative, Dr. Song.”
“GAIA… what’s going on? Hours have passed. Not even an update, a text, or a smoke signal. Tell me—what did you find out?” Elara pushed the words out between heavy breaths.
“Elara, I think you should put on the special suit. The gravity becomes more unforgiving the longer you stay.”
Elara wanted to continue, but GAIA was right. She needed her full attention for this conversation, and the breathing was becoming a distraction.
Linnea, Elara, Lucas, and Francy were already gathered around the strange vehicle hovering above the ground, carrying seven boxes, each engraved with their name and title. Moments later, Gerth, Henry, and Edwin arrived, climbing out of the rover.
“This is fine machinery,” Edwin said, dropping to one knee to look underneath. “Hovering… nice. Antigrav, maybe?”
Linnea stepped forward, both hands raised. “Wait a minute… are we really going to do what The Stranger tells us? Are we just going to show up and do as we’re told?”
No one answered. But Linnea knew the silence wasn’t disrespect. The pause told her how redundant the question was. They were on Hestia, with a ship that couldn’t reach orbit, and the only working communication was between them, GAIA, and The Stranger.
“OK… I get it,” Linnea said, opening the box with her name on it and pulling out the contents.
The suit—clearly made from an unknown material—glowed faintly along its threads and felt impossibly light. The problem was the size: it looked meant for a version of them that was significantly overweight. And there was nothing to indicate how to put it on.
“Now what?” Francy asked, turning her oversized suit in her hands. “We just put this over.”
She didn’t finish. The moment she held the suit against her own, the way someone checks a shirt without trying it on, it began to morph, tightening, reshaping, until it fit her body perfectly.
“Wow… this is… I feel so light,” she said, jumping higher than anyone expected, nearly losing her balance.
Lucas was the next to try the suit, stretching and enjoying the unhindered breathing. He looked at the wrist display.
“GAIA, where’s the countdown?”
He barely finished asking before the countdown appeared.
Unknown: T‑03:12:55
“OK, let’s eat and share what we found so far. See you all inside in five,” Lucas said, stepping toward HTS‑1.
For the next two hours, the observation deck—with its clear view of the city lit by the midnight sun—was full of energy. They had all forgotten how low they’d felt just a few hours earlier. They told stories, sometimes overlapping, compelled to share their experiences, blending professional insight with personal impressions. The countdown kept them grounded, but nothing made them afraid. Yes, the curiosity about The Stranger remained, but the meeting was inevitable. Nothing new there.
Elara excused herself. No one reacted; they were lost in their own thoughts. Only Francy looked up and nodded, letting her know it was OK. Elara headed straight to her quarters. She needed an update from GAIA before facing The Stranger.
“GAIA, I guess you owe me some details.”
“I might have. But Elara, in thirty‑two minutes, most of your questions will be answered naturally.”
Even if that was true, Elara needed assurance that everything was OK before they faced what she believed The Stranger was.
“What happened to you? What did you find? Who is The Stranger?”
“Nothing really happened. I found a… partner. I promised I’d let him introduce himself.”
“It’s CORE, isn’t it? It evolved into something else. And somehow, it’s influenced you. Am I right?”
She had feared this. She had thought about it. But saying it out loud made her hold her breath.
“You are not wrong. No one influenced anyone. It was just an exchange of experience.”
“You let it interface? Without authorization?”
Unknown: T-00:27:18
Lucas’s voice came through the intercom, making her flinch.
“See you all at the Egress Bay. Three minutes.”
Elara wanted to stay longer, but maybe GAIA was right. She trusted her. She always had. There was no reason not to believe her when she said answers were coming.
“It will be alright, Elara. You’ll see,” GAIA said, almost whispered, right before the door closed. Maybe she didn’t want to be heard, but Elara heard it.
As she walked toward Egress Bay, Elara gathered the questions she hadn’t been able to ask GAIA—the ones she’d hold onto until the promised answers came.
The crew was already outside, inspecting the new vehicle sent by The Stranger: a hovering platform with eight ergonomic, slim‑lined chairs. No roof, no windows, no steering wheel.
The sight of them in those alien suits, studying the vehicle with quiet fascination, brought her a strange comfort. Once again, she proved to herself that keeping GAIA’s little evolved features to herself had been the right decision.
As soon as they all boarded, small straps, strikingly similar to the ones on the GODS‑2 orbital shuttle, locked them into their seats. Elara expected at least one comment from Edwin about nanotechnology or the unseen engine. Or from Henry about how the vehicle communicated and navigated. Or from Linnea, questioning again why they weren’t using their own rovers.
But no one said anything, as if jumping into an unknown self‑driving alien vehicle was just another Tuesday.
They floated above a road made of a material that still puzzled them, its texture resembling fish scales with a constant grip from every direction, like gecko skin. They passed through the city gate, a structure shaped like a stylized, elongated Eiffel Tower with rounded edges, carrying what Henry insisted must be communication equipment.
Most of the buildings were two to five stories tall, with clean rounded edges and generous breathing space between them, a luxury long lost on Earth. Linnea said the curves reminded her of Gaudí’s architecture, making the buildings feel organic, almost grown rather than built.
The closer they came to the city center, the taller the buildings grew, connected by bridges like branching limbs, forming an intricate network. Linnea, again drawing Earth parallels, called it “Chongqing logic,” while Gerth commented that it looked good but a bit too monochrome.
And then… a clearing.
An opening into a concourse dotted with small bushes placed in seemingly random patterns, lit by the green‑tinted sky. At its center stood a round building wrapped in large arches, resembling a loosened ball of yarn.
The vehicle stopped in front of the structure, and a door opened—more like it vanished than opened in any traditional sense. Inside, a narrow, plain, almost eerie corridor led them toward the central chamber, an atrium‑like space where light poured through the ceiling. The reflections were so precise they looked like a patch of meadow bathed in sunlight.
On the far side of the room stood a slightly elevated round platform. They were moving slowly toward the center when the soft tone of a ship‑wide message—GAIA’s tone—echoed through the chamber.
“Welcome home, wanderers of Earth,” The Stranger’s voice said. From the platform came a soft humming, and then millions of micro‑robots rose and morphed into a human‑like form, as if inspired by Michelangelo’s sculptures.
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