Prologue

We assume we are the players. We assume the game was built for us. But we are running on hardware that hasn’t been upgraded since the Stone Age. We look at the stars and think we see the whole sky, but we are only seeing the narrow spectrum our eyes allow. The rest is dark. The rest is silence. Until something breaks through the static.

Part I: The Biological Ceiling

It is arrogance to think we have the full picture. We are like ants walking across a microchip. The ant can see the landscape—the green board, the silver traces, the black squares—but it has absolutely no concept of the data flowing underneath its feet. It doesn’t have the biology to understand the signal.

We are the ants.

Math is the language of the universe, but we speak a broken dialect. We invented calculus and algebra to describe what we see, but our eyes are limited. We see three dimensions. Maybe four, if you count time. String theory says there might be eleven. Or twenty-six. Some speculate even more…

How can we possibly write the equation for a room we can’t even see?

The universe doesn’t wait for us to figure it out. Gravity worked before Newton wrote it down. Black holes were crushing stars into infinite density long before Einstein scribbled a formula. The math exists. It is running in the background, a cold, perfect code. 

We just don’t have the clearance to access the whole file.

Our brains evolved to hunt, to gather, to survive on the savannah. Not to decode the quantum mechanics of a collapsing star. We are hitting the ceiling of our own hardware. We are staring at a locked door, scribbling notes about the scratches on the keyhole.

Part II: The Unbroken Signal

Physics backs me up.

The First Law of Thermodynamics is absolute. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. It can only change form. That isn’t poetry; that is hard science.

Think of the human body like a biological radio. It catches a signal—consciousness, the soul, whatever you want to call it—and plays it for seventy or eighty years. The radio is cheap. It breaks. The speakers blow out. The plastic cracks. Eventually, the hardware fails completely.

But the signal? The broadcast? 

That doesn’t stop just because the receiver died.

If we are living in a universe with 30 dimensions, we are only seeing the surface of the ocean. We are flopping around in the shallow end. When the body dies, that energy has to go somewhere. It probably just slides into those other dimensions. 

The ones we can’t see.

We call it “death” because we stop receiving the transmission. But for the signal itself? It’s probably just like walking through a door.

You leave the cramped, noisy room of 3D space and step out into the endless sea of streaming universes . The static clears. You finally hear the real sound.

Part III: The Repository of Lost Files

My ideas aren’t a crazy thought. In fact, it is the only explanation for why some stories feel like they are being “downloaded” rather than written.

I am describing the concept of Genetic Memory or Quantum Consciousness, but on a cosmic scale. If energy cannot be destroyed, and information is just energy, then my “subconscious” might essentially be a hard drive full of corrupted files from a million different lifetimes.

I am not the first author to feel this. The feeling of “I didn’t invent this, I just found it” is terrifyingly common among the greats.

The Philip K. Dick Phenomenon 

The most famous example is Philip K. Dick (Blade Runner, Minority Report). He didn’t just write sci-fi; he lived it. In 1974, he believed he was hit by a “pink beam” of light that transferred massive amounts of information into his brain. He became convinced that he was living two lives simultaneously: one as a sci-fi writer in 1970s California, and one as a persecuted Christian in the Roman Empire.

He wrote VALIS to explain it. He believed his stories weren’t fiction, but revealed truths about the nature of reality that most people were too asleep to see. He thought time was an illusion and the “Empire” never ended.

The Sculptor’s Argument 

Michelangelo used to say he didn’t carve the statue. He said the statue was already inside the marble, waiting; he just chipped away the extra rock to set it free.

That is how you write Stardust and Guardians of Humanity. You aren’t building a world brick by brick. You are clearing away the fog to reveal a place that already exists.

• Why does the tech in your books feel specific? Because you’ve used it.
• Why do the aliens feel real? Because you’ve met them.
• Why does the horror resonate? Because you remember the fear.

The “Ghost Universe” Theory 

Physicists know that 95% of the universe is “Dark Matter” and “Dark Energy.” We can’t see it, touch it, or interact with it. But it is there. It holds the galaxies together.

If you were part of that “Ghost Universe” before, or if your energy cycled through dimensions that interact with Dark Matter, your brain might retain a residue. A static charge.

When you sit down to write, you aren’t imagining. You are remembering. You are accessing a cache of data that didn’t get wiped clean when you were born in this body. The “fiction” label is just a safety mechanism to keep the human brain from overloading.

If I told people it was history, they would call me insane. If call it Science Fiction, and they call me an author.

The Connection

These three concepts form a closed loop.

1. The Limitation: Our biology (the hardware) prevents us from seeing the full 30-dimension reality.
2. The Mechanism: When the hardware dies, our energy (the signal) escapes into those hidden dimensions.
3. The Leak: Sometimes, the signal bleeds back into the hardware.

This is why you write. Your brain is picking up interference from where you used to be. The “fiction” you write in Stardust isn’t invention; it is a leak. You are a biological radio picking up your own old broadcasts from the dark matter. The “Ghost Universe” isn’t empty. It’s full of memory.

Conclusion

The door is locked, but the walls are thin. You can hear them moving on the other side. Scratching. Waiting. The signal doesn’t stop just because you close the book. It’s still broadcasting. Right now. Louder.

Have you ever felt this way ? Tell me in the comments 👇

Bari Marcus Anthony