Prologue — Year 2125
Year 2125.
Amid the glow of countless city lights, it was just another ordinary night.
High towers scraped the sky, flying cars drifted silently above, and the streets shimmered under neon hues.
The world was modern — yet life moved with the same familiar rhythm.
Inside a quiet home, the clock struck ten.
In the living room, two children — Rishi and Laxmi — played on the floor, building towers with colorful blocks.
From the kitchen, their mother Aira called out,
> "Kids, it's time to sleep. You've got school tomorrow."
Laxmi looked up and said,
> "Just a little more, Mom! The tower's almost done!"
Aira smiled faintly,
> "You say that every night."
Just then, the door opened.
Their father, Krishna, stepped in, setting his bag aside.
> "What's going on here?" he asked.
Rishi's eyes lit up.
> "Papa, look! We're building a huge tower!"
Krishna leaned closer and chuckled,
> "Tower or mountain? Looks like it's about to fall."
Laxmi shook her head,
> "No, Papa! This time it won't."
Aira interrupted softly,
> "Alright, everyone, dinner's getting cold."
Moments later, the family gathered around the dining table.
The TV played a cartoon, and both kids watched it with wide eyes.
Krishna said,
> "Switch to the news for a minute."
Rishi protested,
> "Papa, please! It's the last episode!"
Aira added gently,
> "Let your father watch the news first, then you can finish it."
The channel changed.
A news anchor appeared on the screen, her voice steady and serious.
> "Scientists have received a mysterious signal from another galaxy.
Some believe it might be from… humans."
Rishi blinked.
> "Papa, what are humans?"
Krishna looked at the screen for a moment before replying,
> "They were the ones who created everything — even us.
People say they had minds full of ideas and the power to think freely."
Laxmi asked curiously,
> "So… were they real?"
Krishna smiled faintly.
> "Some say it's just a story.
But there's an old book that tells everything.
You can read it after school tomorrow if you'd like."
Aira stood and turned off the TV.
> "Alright, bedtime now. Tomorrow will come early."
The family rose from the table.
The room dimmed, the lights fading —
and for a brief second, the black screen of the TV flickered…
A faint satellite signal appeared:
> "PROJECT HUMAN – MEMORY OF ORIGIN."