The Moon Mason Bees spread life throughout the galaxy in the world of Under a Hostile Sun!
Astronauts love them. Hate them. Hate to love them and love to hate them. The Moon Masons are larger than cars, have the curiosity of squirrels, the hive mind of insects and endless mutagenic powers.
https://muckraker.itch.io/under-a-hostile-sun
It may be a surprise, but I am only now reading 1st book on UFOs ( I have been mostly interested in aliens as fiction or in ttRPGs). I just learned about the Arecibo Message.
Frank Drake sent a message of 1679 bits to his fellow UFO friends and said that this was a mathematical message he wanted to send to the aliens. While not all cultures share language, we all share math.
To test if it was decode-able, he asked them to figure out what it meant with no other context. They failed.
So he sent it to more UFO friends. They failed, too.
So he put it in a decoder magazine and got exactly one correct answer from an electrician. 1679 is the product of two semi-prime numbers, which should get you to realize it’s a 23 *73 picture.
Bu needless to say if the interpretation rate was that low amongst earthlings, the hopes for alien communication seemed dim. Especially since the message will take 25K years to arrive.
But we do have C’therax and Friends’ take above – admittedly the DNA double helix (blue) does look like a butterflyish thing.
How I followed the trumpets sound in the park and met one of the most famous trumpet player. 3 years ago, I had a conversation with him . Fascinating stuff.
Se riesco ad accettare che il mio mondo interiore può essere estremamente vulnerabile e che forse posso cadere mille volte, in cui mi sembra di essermi dimenticata tutto quello che ho imparato, ma altrettante sono le volte in cui ci provo, allora del fallimento poco importa. È solo una salita, e abbassando le aspettative verso la presunta performance che dovrei avere, posso perdonarmi anche quando proprio non vorrei, anche quando tutto quello che detesto di me viene a galla, anche quando cado troppe volte nelle stesse buche, quando penso troppo e la mente diventa un groviglio confuso dal quale vorrei scappare, quando mi deprimo troppo e respirare sembra insostenibile, quando perdo ogni speranza nella mia capacità di vincere le crisi, quando vorrei piangere, ma mi dimentico come si fa.
