All of a child's reality is born of fragmented dreams. With so many possibilities and futures, the world becomes a highway without a GPS—many exits and options, but so little knowledge on which choice is the right one.

  My life started with a wrong turn before I could speak. My mom and dad weren't married, and during my premature birth, my future was undecided. My dad still lived with my grandparents, and my mom's situation is still a mystery.

  On the highway of life, my car was filled with my dad and grandparents. But sometimes, a strange woman would hitchhike the ride that was my life.

  She had dark skin, eyelashes identical to mine, and eyes just like mine. She was very friendly, and I assumed she was a close friend of my father.

  The woman, my father, and I would meet routinely at Nathen's every Sunday. Eventually, I grew fond of the woman and wanted to spend more time with her. Her presence seemed soft, loving—almost motherly.

  We often spent our time in the back of the restaurant, where a bright, dazzling arcade stood. The arcade was full of games, but one caught my eye in particular.

  I was captivated by the biology and history behind dinosaurs. They seemed so mythical, so otherworldly. So to my surprise, there was a two-player interactive Jurassic Park game that sparked my every interest as a young child.

  Every Sunday, for the first three years of my earthly existence, I played this seemingly otherworldly game with the woman. Life was peaceful—almost like a paradise.

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  But as all stories depict, paradise never lasts.

  Late at night, a young boy named Julius J.

  Bianchi lies awake. His mind swarms with thoughts, questions, and possible answers.

  Despite being only three, Julius is infatuated with astronomy and the reality beyond what we know—or can even comprehend—as humans. His brain remains restless, craving—no, starving—for answers.

  Tonight feels different. It's not a common occurrence, but there's a strange tension in the air, like the sky itself is humming with expectation. The world outside is still, unnervingly quiet, as though the universe is holding its breath.

  Julius answers the call of the cosmos.

  He slips out the back door, careful not to wake anyone, and steps into the cool embrace of the night. The grass is damp beneath his feet. Crickets chirp in the distance, but their song feels muted compared to the weight of the stars above him.

  He grabs his prized telescope and points it skyward. Galaxies, pinpricks of light, infinity—unreachable, unknowable, but so close he can feel them pulling at his thoughts.

  In that moment, Julius thinks:

  In a world where we are but a speck of cosmic dust, what isn't possible? What shouldn't be?

  He steps away from the telescope and looks up with his bare eyes—raw, unfiltered, full of wonder. He raises his arms as if to embrace the night.

  "Limitations are only na?ve excuses for the failure of those afraid to transcend. Oh night sky, give me a sign!"

  He clenches his fist and shouts,

  "If I was meant for greatness—if I was meant to flip this world as we know it upside down—then show me!!"

  His voice echoes quietly through the still air, swallowed by the stars.

  Julius's eyes are not those of a weak-minded child, but of a determined philosopher, yearning for something—someone—to answer.

  Then it happens.

  One single star among the thousands begins to glow. At first, it shimmers softly, just a flicker—slightly brighter than the others. But the flicker grows, pulsing, radiating with a light that feels ancient, divine. It casts a faint glow across Julius's face, illuminating his wide eyes and parted lips.

  The heavens seem to lean in.

  He stares in awe, frozen. His breath catches. For a heartbeat, he feels everything—the weight of time, the silence of space, the possibility of meaning.

  Then, just as suddenly, the light vanishes. No sound. No trace. Only stillness.

  Stillness... and a voice, carried by the wind.

  It drifts softly to the boy's ears:

  "The heavens have high hopes for you... humanity's voice."