Poltergeist and Phobetor were the first exoplanets' names, following the grand discovery of pulsars. Poltergeist... Why would someone name a newly discovered planet after a disturbing, noisy ghost?
Phobetor? From Greek mythology, the god of nightmares. And in 1994, they detected another planet—the innermost one: Draug, from yet another obscure mythology.
To this day, I can't understand why such fascinating discoveries were named like this—as if they were meant to haunt or curse us. Is that how we appreciate life? Does the extraordinary haunt us, chase us like nightmares? Don't we design our own nightmares by ignoring consequences, by being reckless? Why blame others when we are blind to the truth before us?
Perception.
It leads us. We interpret the unknown with fear and judgment. Fear the unfamiliar, the first experience. It's human.Survival instincts scream: be wary. But sometimes, we must let our guards down, accept risk, and make a change.
In 1992, exoplanets were seen as demonic, terrifying, consuming planets alive. Now? They're blessings. Potential life. Earth-like planets, gas giants, named for beauty—the deep blue marble, 55 Cancri e, Tsiuri-meaning heavenly. Our perception changed.
I've been thinking about the world beyond ours for hours, shivering, hope fading, frozen by sharp, painful cold. Then... a miracle. Pain gone. Tremors stopped. My body lying dead, yet my soul alive. Something I always did when uneasy—escape into the night sky.
I must confess. I've lied earlier. I've been here more than hours. Maybe days. Maybe weeks. Maybe months... I can't recall. Since I've arrived, time feels stopped. All I feel now is sharp pain. I want to keep collecting memories—the only peace here. But they won't let go... a pain in my chest, as if crushing my ribs, molesting my lungs...
"Keep it up! Keep it up! The medical team is on their way!" said one officer, as another performed CPR.
Why continue cardiac massage if there's a pulse? Light pulse. If below 60 beats per minute, circulation must be maintained to prevent tissue death—especially the brain. Persistent, rhythmic compression, Mrs. Edson said.
The officers exhausted themselves. Pulse weakening. Then a well-built young man appeared, offering help without hesitation. No one knew where he came from—but every second mattered. Human life is irreplaceable.
He positioned his hands. Without question. Without hesitation.
And so he began pressing, rhythmically, with all his strength.
1...2...3...