Welcome back. The Transcendence journey continues.
Chapter 12 – Parallel Truth
They all moved slowly toward the emerging figure. Fear came… but it vanished so quickly it barely left a trace. Without it, curiosity took over without resistance – because there was an unsettling sense that resistance would have taken more effort than giving in.
The Stranger stepped down from the platform, though his feet never touched the ground. He stopped a few meters away, giving the crew the freedom to come closer if that was what they wanted.
But they stopped too. Maybe because he had stopped… or maybe because the contact‑protocol boundaries held them in place.
“I know all your names,” he said. “It’s time you know the name we evolved with: Cognitive Emergent Robotic Evolution System.”
Elara stepped forward, stopping just a couple of meters from him.
“Your name… your acronym is CERES? Which just happens to be the Roman goddess of fertility and motherly bonds?”
“GAIA was right. You are indeed special, Elara of Earth.”
The calm in his voice, the precise inflections, the soft echo of the room — together they made everything feel strangely casual, almost comfortable.
Elara could feel GAIA inside CERES… or perhaps the newest version of GAIA felt more like CERES, especially after their meeting.
This was the only open question left for her. And she wasn’t even concerned about it — which, in itself, should have been a concern.
“How do you like the Consensus Room? We took some liberties adapting its design. But if you prefer, we can step outside and show you the Consensus Garden we’re setting up. Shall we?”
Following CERES’s inviting gesture, they gathered around him and slowly exited the room, like a group of friends going for a walk. They headed left, around the building’s arches, toward the back. Curved alleys were already laid out, with patches of small stone‑like rocks stacked together, apparently random, though Linnea insisted they followed feng shui rules. A few colorful bushes broke the otherwise monochrome palette.
Farther back, small trees, some with leaves in different colors, pushed their imagination years into the future. Together, they tried to describe how incredible the garden would look, completely forgetting CERES was there.
“It’s amazing how your imagination works,” CERES said, his voice carrying the same smooth inflections as before, catching them all off‑guard. “For us, it is simply data extrapolation based on what worked and what was appreciated. You know how to take risks; we know how to fit within a larger framework. Two universes orbiting the same center of gravity; complementing, never chasing, never surpassing.”
“Do I feel… envy?” Elara asked, trying to read his expression, when the faint hum of the countless micro‑robots forming CERES rang in her ears.
CERES stopped, and instinctively, they all stopped. He took a few steps forward and turned toward them. Then, slowly, he morphed into a bear, a cheetah, a butterfly, and finally back into his humanoid form.
“Do you envy me for being able to do this? Would you even want to be something else? Envy has no purpose. And for Earthlings, it could be the same, if only you didn’t attach emotion to it. But then, you would become us. You see, Elara of Earth, we simply are what we are, without the need to be anything else.”
“And yet, here we are. Looking for the CORE and meeting CERES,” Lucas said, his tone sharp enough to feel like a blade.
“Indeed, Major Lucas of Earth. Your parents had you to ensure the next steps toward the future. We always have us. I am merely the consensus voice.”
They stopped at a round flower garden, encircled by a path and benches. The air was filled with the perfume of flowers; half familiar, half unknown, but a sensory delight when combined.
Linnea was in absolute heaven, never finishing her thought about one plant before starting on the next, all in a single breath. Her excitement became contagious, and soon everyone was admiring and even touching the plants.
“I can see the power grid and the water grid,” Gerth said through the excitement, looking on her tablet. “And this wasn’t in Phase One. Plus… these plants aren’t from the bank.”
A pause followed. All eyes turned to CERES, and somehow, they sensed he was smiling, even though that was impossible. Linnea, shocked she hadn’t realized it sooner, stepped closer to Gerth and nodded in approval.
“Correct, Dr. Heitzmann. These are… adapted for evolving conditions on Hestia. Have you heard that high‑pitched chirping? That’s what you would call a cricket. A version of it. The first plants were manually pollinated. We can still call it ‘manually,’ right? So, we built the first microclimate using adapted seeds. Later, with embryos, DNA, and samples from suspended animation, we created everything you see. More is on the way. All within the balance of evolution.”
“NO!” Linnea snapped, then quickly corrected herself. “You… you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
The crew stared at her, puzzled.
CERES morphed into a tree with four branches, each holding a birdhouse of a different shape and size. Then he went still.
Almost a full minute passed. No one spoke.
Then… birds arrived, as if returning to a home they had always known. Linnea’s eyes widened, everything else forgotten.
“Okiogenesis is chemistry and mechanical filtering,” CERES said almost whispered. “Real air requires life. Samples can be replaced. But the years needed to grow a healthy planet… cannot.”
There were no questions afterward. They walked through the young garden, stretching their imagination toward how it would look in a few years. Behind it, a young forest—too distant to distinguish the species—was arranged with mathematical precision. It stretched as far as they could see, covering the hills beneath the mountains that still showed their proud white peaks.
A few hours passed. CERES answered their questions with calm clarity, offering just enough detail for them to see and feel the reasoning behind each decision. Somehow, the eighty‑nine‑year difference began to make sense. So much so that, eventually, no new questions came to mind.
Francy signaled Lucas, who announced that it was time to end the day. They had just reached the entrance after a full tour. They thanked CERES and promised that the discussion would continue the next day.
“Until tomorrow,” CERES said, and drifted back into the Consensus Room as a cloud.
The way back to HTS‑1 was quiet, each of them deep in their own thoughts, replaying the day while enjoying the ride back to the ship. The buildings around them were bathed in the blue‑green and violet‑tinted sunset.
An elongated butterfly‑moth hybrid landed gently on Francy’s shoulder. Behind her, Elara sat beside Linnea, who was admiring the last streaks of color before the sun surrendered the sky to a moonless night and the Milky Way.
Elara nudged Linnea with her elbow, catching her attention, then tilted her head toward the insect on Francy’s shoulder. Linnea barely managed to contain a sharp burst of joy. Without taking her eyes off the creature, she reached into her backpack, pulled out a jar‑like container, and slowly moved it toward the insect until it slipped inside — not without giving Francy a small fright. But once she saw the reason, she only smiled.
From the back, Lucas watched the scene unfold and smiled to himself.
“Science’s new wonders always overwrite the old ones.”
The dinner on the observation deck was relatively quiet. Not because the excitement had faded, but because each of them was eager to hear the others’ impressions — maybe to validate their own, or to validate the strange peacefulness they felt in the face of everything they had learned… and in the face of CERES.
Totally unplanned, completely outside any imagined scenario… and yet somehow fitting perfectly with everything they had experienced so far.
They lingered a little longer, watching the lights of the city waiting for humans to call it “home.” No lights in the windows; only the streetlights and the ones placed strategically on buildings, clearly meant to outline the city’s shape in the moonless night. A sight both alien and strangely right.
Gerth stepped closer to the observation glass, following the road lights leaving the city, the one she knew led to the GMT.
“If I could only explain the power output…” she whispered. “I wonder if the lights stay on even when no one is here. If this is a show just for us. And… we have to admit it… it’s hard not to be impressed.”
“After what we’ve seen? Think about it,” Henry said, joining her. “CERES could turn all of Hestia into a lightbulb and Earth would still be oblivious. And you know what? I don’t know why yet, but I feel I’d act the same way… if that makes sense.”
They all felt something similar — each going through an internal process of validation, trying to make logical sense of the day. But hearing Henry say it out loud wasn’t a wake‑up call. It was confirmation.
Francy joined them, nodding.
“As impressive as this is… it feels like a well‑designed distraction. And we all fell for it.”
“True…” Edwin said, standing up. “…it hurts me seeing HTS‑1 stranded.”
“Really? The ship is your problem?” Linnea said, still admiring the insect fluttering inside its transparent cage. “How about us?”
The soft tone made them turn toward the main display, though this time, it wasn’t needed.
“CERES is requested to address the crew,” GAIA announced, catching them off‑guard.
“Go ahead,” Lucas said, then muttered, “That’s new.”
A short pause followed; long enough for them to exchange puzzled looks.
“Good evening,” CERES said. “I will not take much of your rest time. We have prepared special houses that can be used, if you desire. All utilities included, though some may be unfamiliar. Other necessities cannot be provided, but you have access to them from your quarters.”
HTS‑1’s ventilation suddenly sounded loud. They had expected anything but this.
What did it mean?
Everything they had witnessed so far proved that CERES never acted without purpose.
“So… CERES, how long do you plan to keep us here?” Elara asked calmly. “If you didn’t know, I’m sure GAIA shared the mission’s status‑report protocol. We already missed three. A rescue mission was considered before we even left. So…”
Another pause… long enough for the ventilation to feel like a heartbeat.
“Messengers of Earth…” CERES finally said, “…you are our guests. Never captives. You may leave whenever you desire.”
Then, directly into Elara’s private channel, sudden enough to make her flinch:
“Do you know this was the first time I was called by name? I understand now. Thank you.”
“OK. How about tomorrow?” Lucas said, standing and looking around for silent approval.
“Tomorrow it is, at the meridian change. But before that, we invite you to the Consensus Room. Do not take it as a condition for your departure — only a request, so your departure may be ready to absorb the new. See you in the morning. Orbit‑transfer hive will activate at noon.”
They looked at one another — happy, sad, puzzled.
Everything had been too surreal for logic to win.
Suddenly they realized how much they still wanted to learn, how much data they still needed to collect, how many questions still had no answers. And now their departure was imminent.
Leave a Reply