When we first discovered other populous worlds - ones we somewhat egotistically deemed to be in an earlier stage of development than our own - our first impulse was to share.

We created the Enlightenment, a vast effort across fields spiritual, cultural and scientific, to help a promising world achieve their potential.

A hundred years later, after multiple schisms and three global conflicts, we abandoned our efforts in shame and regret.

We retreated inwards, to introspect before our desire to uplift caused further harm.

It was our fault, we agreed. Our intervention inevitably skewed the natural development of their society, accelerating cultural change at such a rate that points of friction became wildfires.

There is a place for intervention when existential threat looms, but we cannot fool ourselves: to intervene is to reimagine a world’s future, to be more like ours.

Now when we discover new worlds, we are naught but eyes in the vast starry night, ears attuned to radiowaves and binary data transmissions.

We chart their path through basic physics, social rights, advanced metallurgy, knowing their path will differ from our own. They may one day pierce the horizon and meet us high above, but they may not, and that, too, is right and true.

Maybe we will learn more about ourselves, from our differences.