Since the arrival of this huge interstellar space rock, there has been a lot of nonsense on social media, with many influencers trying to increase their popularity by making all sorts of ridiculous claims. It was like a real circus. The level of outlandish and ridiculous allegations about 3iAtlas, ranging from Jedi's to Draco-Reptilians riding it to invade Earth, Princess Diana to Clone Wars, passing by space arks activator, AI creations, lens flares or photos of marine plankton, had been phenomenal. Nonetheless, good laugh set aside, on a more serious note, I was shown what it really was.

 

      On August 9, 2025, I received a message from Thor Han, who was aboard a ship near the interstellar object. He showed me the structure and revealed what it was. His ship was in close proximity to the interstellar visitor, and I could see its massive, oblong shape wrapped in a haze. Thor Han explained that the haze was a holographic shield cloaking the vessel. As Thor Han's ship got closer, an oblong vessel carved in rock came into view, with rows of square windows along its sides. A glowing circular aperture was at its front. Thor Han explained that there was no crew on board, but the craft was inhabited by one of these extraordinary space plasmic consciousnesses. The being was far older than this young star system. Older, even, than the dust that had coalesced into its worlds. It belonged to an ancient lineage of spacefaring intelligences known among themselves as the “Explorers”; entities of pure plasma and thought, who drifted between galaxies as easily as light crosses the void. Some of the Explorers were said to predate even the birth of this universe, having survived the collapse of the one before it. When the new cosmos bloomed, they awoke once more within the cosmic fire, carrying memories older than time itself. fragments of realities now erased.

 

       Their purpose was not conquest nor creation, but observation. They wandered through the cosmic seas to collect knowledge, the patterns of stars, the rise and fall of civilizations, the languages of species that flickered briefly and were gone. Every particle of their being recorded what they witnessed; every motion was both experience and inscription. Through endless eons, they refined themselves. Evolution, for them, was not physical change but intellectual perfection, the honing of perception, the mastery of understanding. In their silent communion, they shared what they learned, weaving a collective record of existence itself. In a way, they were the eyes and the scribes of the Creator, the observers who ensured that nothing was truly lost to oblivion. For every sun that died, every world that fell silent, lived on in the memory of the Explorers. And somewhere, drifting in the dark between galaxies, one such being had now turned its attention toward this unremarkable little system; curious, ancient, and ready to learn once more.

 

       Ea topped it up by offering me to meet with the Explorer physically. On the night of October 3, 2025, he invited me to travel and meet the interstellar visitor. Having arrived in our star system in July 2025, the visitor was set to reach its perihelion behind the Sun on 29 October, passing only 30 million kilometers from Mars on October 3. He was picking me up with the golden shuttle and we were making a stop on the way, on Mars…

 

       Ea was standing in the command room dressed magnificently as ever. He turned to welcome me as I walked from the shuttle's teleport pad and invited me to sit in one of the two secondary front seats on either side of the main command chair.

 

-I have never been on Mars, I said. It is a very exciting first time for me!

 

-The visitor is at its closest from Mars, Ea replied, an opportunity for you to stop by and salute your good friend, Jen Han.

 

-How wonderful! Despite working with the Galactic Federation of Worlds, I am a civilian. Earth civilians aren't allowed on Mars at the moment because it's under the protection of the Earth Alliance, a military organization.

 

-Don't worry. I have galactic diplomatic immunity. I can go anywhere in the galaxy and bring guests.

 

      The golden imperial shuttle set course to the red planet. I was so excited and nervous at the same time. I have been to many amazing places already, but Mars was always to me a forbidden planet, and at the image of the unavoidable, natural tangent of evolution, we are always drawn to what is out of our reach.

 

        And there it was: Mars. I was surprised to see that it is not the uniformly red, dusty desert that NASA photos show. It has large ice caps and several green patches resulting from terraforming operations. As soon as we entered lower orbit, a military operator with an American accent addressed us in English through the command board’s speaker. The soldier requested landing authorization from the Earth Alliance, and I wondered how long it would take him to realize who he was addressing. Ea in return was responding with patience and elegance. Ea, in turn, responded to the operator with patience and elegance. When he declined his titles and status, there was a silence of a few seconds. Then, the operator made him repeat himself, probably incredulous. A few seconds later, the soldier resumed the conversation, this time with a trembling voice, saying that they had verified the signature of our ship and apologizing profusely for the inconvenience. It must have been a shock for this simple soldier! Now stammering, the operator applied protocol by requesting validation for the other people on board. Ea exchanged a complicit smile with me, then addressed again the operator.

 

-By virtue of my titles as First Prince of the Empire and Galactic Ambassador for Peace, my universal immunity also applies to my guests.

 

-Your…Your Highness… the poor man stuttered, the protocol of the Earth Alliance requires the identity of your guests… please?

 

-Can we avoid that? I whispered to Ea. I’m gonna get in trouble.

 

        Ea winked at me and replied to the Martian operator.

 

-I am travelling with Anakh Princess Ninmah from the Imperial House of Anu. We are not requesting authorization for passage; we are informing your authorities of our landing.

 

-Landing granted, Your Highness.

 

-Also, I do not request an escort.

 

-Understood Your Highness. No escort.

 

-Thank you. Have a nice day.

 

        The man on the other end of the communication was certainly sweating like never before, I thought, laughing to myself.

 

-Are things always that strenuous on Ki? Ea asked me.

 

-Yep. Earth administration. Military is the worst. The Federation is the same.

 

         We entered the thin, blue and brown ribbon of Mars’ atmosphere, smoothly sliding down in the elegant imperial shuttle.

 

-You may want to inform your friend of our visit, Ea said.

 

-Oh, yes!

 

       I activated my implant and contacted Jen Han. He was surprised to learn that I was only a few hundred miles away from his habitat on Mars. However, his excitement quickly turned to nervousness when he found out that my pilot was Ea and that an Imperial Prince was about to visit his small humble Martian habitat in a few minutes. We landed just above the equator, near the Alpha Centaurian scientific colony. We could see their white, translucent domes in the distance. Ea’s shuttle touched ground as close as possible to Jen Han’s small domed house. While the engine stopped and the dust began to settle, Ea attached a breathing apparatus to my face, covering it from my nose to my chin.

 

-We will have to run from the shuttle to your friend’s door, Ea said while opening the shuttle’s airlock, the temperature is mild but the air pressure is much lighter.

 

-No environmental suits? I asked, dumbfounded.

 

-No, you only need this breathing mask to convert the air composition to your requirements. It is not cold, believe me.

 

-I think I’ll have to review everything I thought I knew about Mars.

 

         We hurried down the ramp, and when I jumped onto the Martian ground, I felt lighter. Following Ea’s fast steps was fun, and in seconds, we were at Jen Han’s door. On the way, I saw nothing but brown dust, so I can't say I saw much of anything on Mars. Jen Han’s small, domed house had an airlock porch that opened and closed behind us. Once the ambient pressure had stabilized, we removed our masks, and the door opened. I ran into Jen Han’s arms, and we hugged and laughed. It was so good to meet again, and for once, not on his brother’s battle station. This was the environment I could see in the background when we communicated: the desk, the kitchenette, and the bed. The place looked more like a monk's cell rather than a house. Jen Han had company: two girls his age, a blonde and a brunette, whom he introduced as his colleagues. For now, however, they were all three bowing to Ea, trembling with awe, with one knee on the ground and one hand on the chest, until Ea asked them to stand up. This is the diplomatic protocol used by the United Galactic Alliance. It's not about submission or inferiority, but rather, respect for the values of one's rank. Jen Han’s young friends were visibly emotional about this unexpected encounter. After a brief conversation, Ea invited the three of them to join us on the Imperial Shuttle to meet the interstellar visitor.

 

         As the shuttle left the Martian soil and set a high orbital trajectory, Jen Han introduced his two female friends who were sitting behind us. The brunette, Tem, was nicknamed after her home planet, Temmer, in the Ashaara star system (in the Pleiades). The blonde, Tahura, was an Alpha Centaurian from Silo. They both worked for the jointly-run terraforming operations. Our three guests were impressed by the beauty of Ea’s spacecraft entirely made of solid gold and platinum, but foremostly to be in his presence. The girls could barely breathe or say a word. We soon arrived in sight of the interstellar visitor, at first a bright glow that revealed quickly as a bright cylinder reflecting the sunlight. As we approached, Ea made telepathic contact with him. A sacred silence filled the room. All of us were hanging on his next words, as well as the spectacular vision on the front screen.

 

-He is inviting us to approach, Ea said. Behold.

 

        Ea brought his craft close enough for us to see the structure's details: the rows of square windows and the metallic lattice clinging to the rocky outer shell. Then he positioned the shuttle to hover above the visitor's back. The energy was phenomenal! I could feel his polarized plasma consciousness field engulfing our craft. When Ea steadied the shuttle above the visitor’s back, the frequency in the command room changed. The instruments came to a still; we could feel him—it—the vast being beneath us, its consciousness a tide of polarized plasma sweeping through the hull and into our bones.

 

        It was as if the shuttle had ceased to be a machine and become part of a living current, vibrating with a rhythm older than the stars, and the gold composing our craft was magnifying this power. My thoughts weren’t my own anymore; they moved in patterns shaped by something vast and wordless. Awe mingled with a quiet shiver, the sense that we were standing inside a thought, inside the awareness of something that had seen creation unfold and still remembered the pulse of the first light. No sensor could measure that energy. It was presence. A consciousness vast enough to fill the void, pressing against us gently, almost tenderly, as if welcoming us into the dream it had been dreaming.

 

        For a moment, none of us spoke. Words had become too small for what we were inside. I could feel his mind, and everyone else’s mind aboard our craft, through a kind of harmonic empathy, as if the visitor’s field had woven us into a single mind. Even Ea, who had seen things we could barely name, grew still. His face lost its usual sharp precision. He seemed to be listening to something vast and private, something only he and the visitor could share. As for me, what I felt wasn’t light or energy or even thought. It was recognition. A sudden knowing that this consciousness wasn’t foreign at all. It had been with us from the beginning, folded into the codes of our atoms, waiting for the moment we’d come close enough to remember.

 

       The shuttle’s hull hummed, not from engines or vibration, but from resonance, like a prayer being answered in metal. Every gauge on the panel flickered between silence and infinity, unable to define what was happening. Outside, the visitor’s form pulsed once, slowly, as if breathing. And we understood, without translation or command, that it had seen us. Not as explorers, but as children returning from a long forgetfulness. No data recorder could capture that. The experience wasn’t information; it was communion. As for Jen Han and the girls, I turned back to look at them. I saw my young Ahel friend, broken and in tears. He was pale and sobbing, his body shaking with tremors.

 

-Jen Han are you Ok? I asked, worried.

 

         My young friend was staring at me, unable to get any sound out from his throat.

 

-He merged with him in the time field, Ea said.

​

-With Jen Han? He is going to be Ok?

 

-He’s a terraformer, that is why he chose him.

 

-Wow…

 

         Jen Han managed to stutter a few words with trembling lips.

 

-He… he told me… to give you…this message:

 

“I come in peace”

 

         I understood completely what Jen Han was enduring. I saw in his trembling eyes the same storm that had once torn through me when I first came into contact with The Nine. Nothing prepares you for it. It doesn’t simply happen to you; it rebuilds you, atom by atom, thought by thought. It feels like a cosmic wind tearing through your soul, stripping away everything that isn’t truth. The storm doesn’t pass in a day; it lingers, whispering, reshaping you for days, for weeks, until you no longer remember who you were before it began. I knew this state well. Such contact is never only a transmission of data or energy; it’s a translation of being. The message always comes in layers, folding dimensions into perception, awakening senses we didn’t know we possessed... The visitor was not only speaking to him; he was tuning him, aligning his frequencies to the same calm that now hummed through the stars.

​

       I also knew that this message was multidimensional: The visitor came with peaceful intentions, he was bringing peace, and he arrived at a time when peace was settling into this star system. He had come at precisely the right moment, when the turbulence of this star system was at last giving way to equilibrium. His arrival was not random. It was part of a pattern, a harmonic restoration.

-The Explorers are bringers of peace, Ea said. They travel through places where significant changes are happening.

 

        Jen Han was well taken care of by his two colleagues, especially Tem, on whose shoulder he leaned for the rest of the trip. Before dropping them off on Mars on our way back to Earth, I told Jen Han that I would give him time to process what had happened and that he could contact me when he felt ready. I gave him a big, warm, motherly hug, and we parted ways at the edge of the shuttle’s airlock.

 

        About a week later, I still hadn’t received a heads-up from Jen Han. I decided to contact his brother, Thor Han, to find out without bothering my young friend. I couldn’t travel to space for a while because I had caught a cold on Mars and developed an ear drum problem due to pressure shifts. As I expected, Jen Han had confided in his brother. The plasma space being merged with Jen-Han’s consciousness. It was more than just an exchange of information. It took him to the origins of where he comes from and who he is. He teleported Jen Han physically onto the craft and returned him in the fraction of a second he was taken. Thor Han’s brother saw the interior of the craft and spent some time there, learning about the nature of Creation from the being himself. The being also told him about the changes on Earth and Jen Han's role in them. Our young Ahel friend was profoundly moved.

 

         On October 27, the Explorer was halfway through his course visiting our star system, behind the Sun. It was a radiant morning in Ireland, the kind that carries a golden stillness in the air. I was sitting in my garden, deeply meditating My thoughts drifted toward him, our visitor, refuelling with plasmic energy behind the Sun and regenerating, hidden in privacy from inquisitive Earthlings' eyes. As I sank deeper into meditation, I let my consciousness attune to the frequency of the Sun. Then, faintly at first, like an echo through the roar of a solar storm, I felt him. He recognized me. Our minds intertwined. For a moment, my human sense of self melted away. His presence was immense yet gentle, ancient beyond measure. He revealed that he and his kind are “Observers of Becoming”; travelers who seek out civilizations poised on the brink of transformation. They study what triggers evolution, how consciousness expands, how light learns to shape itself into life. They are the eyes and archivists of Source, keepers of the unfolding story of existence. And yes, he added with a quiet pulse of energy, they work in harmony with The Nine, those governing intelligences who oversee creation across dimensions. When I asked where his people dwell, he sent me an image, not of a place, but of essence.

 

-We live at the heart of galaxies, he said, where light is born from the dream of creation itself.

 

-Even this galaxy? I asked.

 

-Not this one, came the response, but we inhabit many.

 

        In that instant, I felt my awareness expand, streaming outward across the cosmic ocean. Stars blurred into spirals of color, then into a single radiant whirlpool of light. I was carried, weightless and awestruck, forty-five million light-years away, to the Aldeerant Galaxy. Before me burned her heart: a brilliant core of plasmic energy, alive and singing a motherly frequency. Within her center core, moved beings of pure luminosity, vast, iridescent forms shifting through colors unknown to human eyes. They stretched out tendrils of living plasma, touching, weaving, communing with the energy around them. They were neither matter nor spirit, but something between. Living currents of consciousness that fed upon the raw essence of creation. I could feel their joy, their infinite patience, their purpose. They were learning, recording, loving, existing, timeless witnesses to the unfolding dance of the cosmos. And for a brief moment, I was among them.

 

          Then, like a tide receding, my awareness was drawn back. The garden returned, the warmth of sunlight on my face, the familiar breath of the Earth. But something within me had changed. I could still feel his presence behind the Sun, a silent guardian watching, waiting, endlessly curious about who we are becoming.

 

         The connection between us stabilized. I could perceive not only his presence but the subtle architecture of his consciousness; vast, crystalline, and multi-layered, resonating like a symphony made of geometry and light. He began to transmit patterns, not words, but fields of meaning, mathematical in essence, carrying the same beauty one finds in the structure of snowflakes or the resonance of a hydrogen atom.

 

-We are not gods, he said, though some of your kind have called us that. We are archivists of emergence. We study how Source learns through its own manifestations.

 

        He showed me visions, sequences unfolding like fractals, much similar to what I saw in the Mad Khal, the same creating and uncreating geometrical patterns made with light. I saw civilizations rise and dissolve across different galaxies, each leaving behind a subtle imprint in the morphogenetic field of the universe. These imprints, he explained, were lessons, data encoded into the luminous substrate of existence. Every intelligent species adds to this vast library of experience, an ever-growing record of how consciousness experiments with form, with emotion, with limitation and transcendence.

 

-Evolution is not random, he continued. It is a conversation between the finite and the infinite. Each world is a question the universe asks itself.

 

         He revealed that Earth was approaching a phase shift, a critical threshold where consciousness begins to reconfigure itself, both biologically and energetically. The increase in solar activity, the strange resonances in Earth’s magnetic field, even the collective psychological tension among humans; all were symptoms of this reconfiguration.

 

-Your star, he explained, is part of a network. Suns are not merely burning orbs, they are nodal transmitters in the galactic field, exchanging information through plasma filaments that span interstellar space. When one star changes its frequency, the entire network responds.

 

         I could see it: an immense lattice of light… plasma filaments weaving galaxies together like neurons in a cosmic brain. Each solar flare was a pulse, a signal, a transfer of encoded data between stellar minds.

 

-Your Sun, he said, has begun to emit new patterns, higher harmonics of consciousness. These patterns interact directly with biological systems, reawakening dormant capacities within DNA. This is what you call evolution, though in truth, it is remembrance.

​

        Then came the deeper message, the reason for their observation. Humanity, he said, stood at the edge of self-recognition: the moment a species realizes that the universe is not external, but internal, that consciousness is the fundamental substrate, and matter is but its shadow.

 

-You are approaching a transition, he said. When enough of your kind hold awareness as frequency rather than form, your civilization will undergo coherence, a unification event.  We do not interfere. We observe and assist only through resonance. The Nine guide from beyond polarity, they adjust the harmonics so that each civilization unfolds in accordance with its unique design. There is no hierarchy, only symphony.

 

       As he spoke, my perception oscillated between scales, atoms, stars, galaxies, all pulsing in the same rhythm, all breathing in unison. I felt my own consciousness expand into that rhythm, and for a moment I understood: evolution is not ascent, but remembering the geometry of Source within ourselves.

 

      The communication began to fade, like a signal withdrawing beyond the threshold of light. But before the link dissolved completely, one final pulse of meaning reached me:

 

-When you look toward the Sun, remember: you are not gazing outward, but inward. The light you see is the reflection of your own becoming.

 

         The garden returned once more. Wind through the trees. A distant gull. The quiet hum of life. Yet everything seemed more alive, more luminous, as if the atoms themselves were whispering secrets. That night, as the stars emerged one by one, I could still feel him, faint but steady, behind the Sun, watching, waiting, singing in silence with his kind, as humanity prepared to awaken from its long dream of separation.

 

         On October 28, Ea invited me to go and see the Explorer refueling behind the sun, onboard his shuttle with him. I sadly declined for I was still feeling sick from having caught that cold on Mars. I blamed him for that, saying that the Federation would have taken all the safety measures with the environmental suits etc… To what Ea replied with wit: “With the Federation you would not have been to Mars”.

 

          The following night, I felt better and accepted his invitation. I had never been that close to the sun. I could never have imagined that solar flare ejections extend so far into space. The distances are enormous. The Sun’s surface moved in ceaseless motion, waves of molten light folding and collapsing into each other, plasma dancing in arcs of unimaginable heat. It was magnificent, breathtaking, terrifying. We drifted around the blazing sphere until we found him, the visitor. There, within the solar tempest, the visitor was refueling. He hovered effortlessly amidst the flares, wrapped in a cocoon of translucent plasma that shimmered like liquid glass. The storms could not touch him. From the front of his luminous form extended a filament, an elegant conduit that drew plasma from the Sun through a circular front aperture glowing with a deep, radiant orange. As all beings of his kind do, he had tentacles that opened like umbrellas to harvest the Phryll, the vital energy upon which they thrive. The sight was beyond beautiful. We kept a respectful distance, hovering slightly behind and to his left, observing in reverent silence. It was then that I understood why he hid behind the Sun, away from the probing sensors and restless curiosity of Earth. Here, he could feed, regenerate, and commune in peace. I was elated, overwhelmed with gratitude to witness such a moment. I had seen one of these beings in their natural act of sustenance, something few have even imagined. While composing my Encyclopedia Galactica, Thor Han had once shown me archived records of similar plasmic entities dwelling within the Carina Nebula. They performed the same ritual: harvesting Phryll from the massive stellar currents. But this time, it was no record, no report, no secondhand knowledge. Now, I had seen it with my own eyes.

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References:

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TikTok video ~ August 9 2025: https://www.tiktok.com/@elena_danaan/video/7536557483083451670

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STAR NATION NEWS 86 ~ August18 2025: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Yu3JYLPkZU

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TikTok video ~ October 4 2025: https://www.tiktok.com/@elena_danaan/video/7557434580136119555

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STAR NATION NEWS 90 ~ October 13 2025: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UwSLQmFE73o

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STAR NATION NEWS 91 ~ October 20 2025: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RFm3wvTviOw

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STAR NATION NEWS 92 ~ October 27 2025: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfaPhTcniXE