A Toast to the Stars

If you’ve started Eartherians Reach: Book 1, you’ve likely begun to pick up on the theme:

Beings from our little pale blue gravity well—Earth—are starting to work together to tackle some pretty serious challenges. More than that, you start to sense these efforts have been going on for a long time, stretching across generations.

Now, if we take a step back from the story and look at our actual situation here on Earth, it opens the door to some fascinating possibilities.

Let’s Just Say We’re Not Alone

This is a science fiction blog, so let’s leave the tin foil hats at the door. We’re not here to suppress imagination—we’re here to let it run wild.

One day I’ll map out a full thought diagram tracing the path of this idea, but for now, let’s just assume something simple:

We are not alone in the universe.

The scale of the cosmos has been shown to us by great educators and media—from the calming tones of Carl Sagan to Leonard Nimoy’s iconic narration, all of it grounded in the real scientific efforts of NASA, Hubble, James Webb, and other missions.

That scale—so vast it defies comprehension—is accepted by anyone who’s spent a few minutes thinking about it, and reading a few articles. And with that scale, most of us are comfortable with the idea that life probably evolved somewhere else.

It’s far away. Probably billions of years ago. And maybe we’ll never meet. That’s the safe version, right?

But what if they are already here? Let’s say there is someone else out there—right now, in our own galaxy.

Let’s also assume they’ve been around long enough to figure out how to travel between star systems without suffering from time dilation or returning home a thousand years after a quick jaunt to the next star system.

Yes, we’re drifting into science fiction. But if you don’t believe we’ll eventually crack that code and achieve these feats ourselves, I’ll take that bet.

After all, we went from the Wright brothers’ first flight to landing on the Moon in just 66 years. If we manage to keep our act together, we’ll launch ourselves into the stars—whether from curiosity or the pursuit of wealth, hopefully both.

(And maybe we already have… but that’s for another blog.)

Let’s get to the big question. If aliens exist, and some of them can reach us—Why are we still here?

In every other conquest perpetuated across our history, it doesn't go well for the more primitive civilization. If other beings evolve through natural selection, wouldn't they also have that instinct to conquer?

We study life on Earth constantly. We create entire fields of study around it. Wouldn’t other intelligent species do the same? And if one advanced species can travel interstellar distances, why not others?

The universe is 13.8 billion years old...allegedly, but even that is changing now based on recent discoveries. And if distance no longer matters, the Laniakea Supercluster of galaxies over 100 million light years across, is basically a neighborhood stroll.

How many civilizations have visited? How many have opinions about us? How many have acted on those opinions—or are about to?

It's either none, one, or some...many? What do you think?

So Who’s Holding the line in the dark forest of terrors? Why are we not phased out?

Maybe, just maybe—someone, or some many, aren’t allowing that to happen.

Imagine a galactic alliance, a legal framework, or maybe even a force of guardians standing on our behalf. Maybe for altruism. Maybe for gain. Either way—we're still here. Why?

Have we been flagged as a primitive, developing civilization? Are we under a kind of cosmic quarantine until we prove we’re ready to join the stars?

I don’t know, but I do know this: If the "some" or "many" is our reality, then one or some of them out there have stood up for us. They may have fought for the right to keep us alive. Some of them may even have died establishing the laws that protect us. They may still be watching, guiding, or even enforcing the terms of our survival. And for that, tonight—I raise my glass to the night sky.

A toast! Here’s to you—enablers and protectors of our existence. I salute you for allowing us to coexist, isolated for now, but alive. Even if there are no promises, thank you from the bottom of my heart for this chance. Even if we are confined, even if we are observed, even if we are corralled. I believe you see our value, and our worth. And I know we, as a planet, have great potential.

So to you, unknown allies, for all your efforts, your toil, and your time on our behalf—

I raise this toast to you.

Cheers! May we rise and make you proud one day.