Surface is a fiction, physicality another. Time begins to flow and incidents started to occur. A billion years ago they ate some light, dreamed of a pale blue dot. Is there a way for the cosmos to know itself? They born and die, how strange! Blue turn red, how do they do it? What should they become? Light years passed still they aren't determined. Exploration is in their nature. They began as wanderers, and they are wanderers still. They have lingered long enough on the shores of the cosmic ocean. They are ready at last to set sail for the stars.