“Believe me… if you ever saw them,
you’d stop worshipping your filters on INSTAGRIM™.The Aelori.
Dominant intelligent species.
Aelor… it means ‘those who move between.’
On CosmoNet™, they’re known as the Glideborn.And they are…
by human standards, they are towering—
anywhere from eight to twelve feet in height.Strong. Broad-shouldered. Deep-chested. Long-legged.
Muscular, but never bulky.Their anatomy is a fusion of strength and elegance—
functional, not decorative.They are not grotesque.
Not monstrous.
Not like those bio-horror exhibits in the Mold’pony museums.No.
They are… beautiful.
Truly, structurally beautiful.They embody:
strength in motion,
elegance through function,
beauty without exaggeration—without the need to prove anything.And yes… these are the beings with expressive faces,
alive eyes, and lips capable of such nuanced speech
that any lawyer from Prime Inc.™
would sound like a broken translator standing next to them.They have a graceful tail,
tipped with fine, filament-like structures—
used for social signaling and identification.Living, subtle markers of emotion.
Their movement is… unusual.
The kind of movement only possible for a species
that evolved in low gravity and dense air:
climbing,
leaping,
using limbs as anchors,
swimming,
soft landings.They do not flap wings—because they don’t have them.
Instead, they possess a patagium:
thin skin membranes stretching from arms to torso and thighs.Folded, nearly invisible at rest.
Unfolding in motion—
for gliding,
braking,
thermoregulation,
and even communication.Walking long distances is considered… inefficient.
They are a civilization of verticality.
Their vision—
is a small piece of evolutionary poetry.Their eyes are adapted for:
multiple light sources,
constant twilight conditions,
contrast over brightness.Multi-layered retinas.
Polarization-sensitive perception.
Wide field of view.
Perfect balance.
Almost unsettling spatial awareness.They do not see “four suns.”
They see vectors.
Directions of light.
Flows.To them, the world is not brightness—
but motion.And now… something culturally unusual.
Many assume the Aelori are all female.
They are not.
They have no binary sex.
No male. No female.None.
They are:
externally identical,
sequential hermaphrodites,
assuming reproductive roles situationally,
defined by partnership—not anatomy,
shifting hormonal profiles over time.For them, sex is a function—
temporary and non-hierarchical.As a result, their society is remarkably stable:
low sexual competition,
high cooperation,
strong pair bonds,
no conflicts over dominance.And yes…
beauty, to them, is not decoration.It is a marker of health, balance,
and control of the body—
not something to compete over.The Aelori are children of a world without binaries…
No clear day or night.
No fixed sexes.
No simple cycles.So they value:
systems thinking,
patience,
long-term consequences,
context-based decisions.They are extremely difficult to provoke.
Calm.
Measured.And when they speak—
it sounds less like opinion,
and more like the advice of an ancient civilization.But there are things they cannot tolerate:
enclosed spaces,
sudden darkness,
rigid categorization.The Aelori are considered one of the most advanced civilizations in the galaxy.
Not because they throw lasers around like teenagers—
but because their expertise lies in:
biotechnology,
living materials,
adaptive systems,
organic computation,
self-healing structures.Their technology is biological.
It cannot simply be exported—
it is not a box with a droid inside.It is an ecosystem.
And they never share it fully.
Only what they deem safe
for galactic balance.They are not conquerors.
They are… quiet stabilizers.
Strict planetary access control.
Orbital diplomatic stations.
No random visitors.If they choose to hide something—
the galaxy respects that.And finally…
a personal note.Oh my…
I once saw an Aelori with my own eyes.
Tall. Composed.
They greeted me so gently…
as if I were a princess from another world.And you know…
how I wish I could see their city—Saeryth.It is built in the upper layers of the forest.
No ground level.
Only platforms, ramps, gliding corridors…
In the archives, it is called:
‘The city you enter from above.’
But reaching it…
is nearly impossible.Not as a tourist.
Not as a guest.
Not even as a diplomat.That is the kind of civilization they are.
And yes…
all of this is just a prelude
to where Zeros went—
and why he chose this particular moon
for his next… journey.A place where even night
is rare… and sacred.But that—
in just a moment.Because Dick is already on his way back.
And judging by that look on his face…
it’s the one that says:‘Who touched my jingles,
and why do they sound better without me?'”
