Pleiadian Epic Message to Grandpa and Lightworkers (2050): You have completed one of the greatest missions ever attempted. And because of you…peace lives in the galaxy.”
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Grandpa was enjoying his first hours in his new Pleiadian home, though “home” felt too small a word for a place that seemed alive in every direction. The crystalline architecture shimmered with its own soft intelligence, as if each wall, each curve, was listening. Natural peach‑gold light from Alcyone bathed the space in a serene glow—warm, nourishing, and timeless.
Even though Alcyone existed in a state of permanent daylight, the Pleiadians had kindly programmed a gentle “sun simulation cycle” just for him: a soft dawn, a mellow midday, a faux twilight. His Earth body would transition slowly, lovingly, without shock.
Grandpa chuckled to himself.
“Everything is perfect here.”
He wandered around, studying gadgets without buttons, tools without screens. Everything responded only to thought. And as he admired a crystalline panel, he casually thought:
I wish I had something to read…
A soft chime rang out.
A translucent display unfolded like a glowing petal above the lounge area.
“Ready when you are, Grandpa,” a warm feminine voice said.
Grandpa blinked, half amused, half startled. “Ready for what, dear?”
“You desired a communication, and there is one waiting for you.”
Before he could respond, the lounge table slid gracefully across the floor, rotating into place. Two drinks appeared—a glowing aqua smoothie and a steaming cup of something fragrant.
Grandpa sniffed the cup, eyes widening.
“Oh my stars… is this Pleiadian coffee?”
He took a sip and nearly hovered off the seat.
The house gave a soft chime of laughter.
“It is calibrated for multidimensional alertness.”
Grandpa burst out laughing. “Is this how it’s gonna be?”
“As your personal assistant, Grandpa, I can surely tell when you are joking.”
“Well,” he teased, “I’m thinking about lots of Earth money now.”
Another chime—playful, amused.
“Noted. Now… shall I play your message from the people of Pleiades?”
Grandpa froze. “Oh! Uh—is this a video call? Because I might need to put on something more respectable than my bedtime clothes.”
“No, Grandpa. It is a holographic interpretation of a real transmission. Shall I begin?”
“Yes, please.”
The lights dimmed.
Music from unknown instruments filled the room—soft, crystalline, impossibly pure.
Then the air shimmered.
A tall figure formed from starlight, luminous and serene.
Grandpa’s breath caught.
And the message began.