After eons on Mars, Aurelia was cast out because they challenged the persecution of the Transient by Orangan, the orange overlord. Essential for harvesting Sylph spores, the amorphic Transient beings were being systematically hunted down, frozen, and cryovaced by Orangan’s national guard.

Previously free to the subterranean dwelling Martian inhabitants, they now paid a premium to Orangan for Sylph; necessary for breathing Mars’ rapidly diminishing ether.

Following a short internment onboard prison propulsion ship, Pulsar, Aurelia silently meditated on their misfortune. Accepting the inevitable unknown, Aurelia was jettisoned into the velvety black void.

All was not lost, Aurelia’s form hardened as they gently tumbled through the Solar System, in awe of the surrounding celestial firmament. Time seemed to stand still as Aurelia contemplated the events leading up to their downfall, the uncertainty of the future, and forgiving the perpetrators of their demise.

An eternity passed as Aurelia’s DNA drew them into Earth’s atmosphere-once home to their ancient ancestors.

Rolling through the meagre air, Aurelia plunged into the over warmed ocean, enveloping the planet. Instantly their body gelatinises.

Descending into the murky microbial vortex, the pressure squeezes Aurelia, elongating them, tendrils break free, catapulted into the distance, to explode into a myriad of fragments, adding to the primordial gloop.

In a flash of elation, Aurelia’s core collapses into the welcoming embrace of the Titan, architect of the universe. Matter melding, consciousness transcending, and rebirth imminently assured.

ChatGPT suggested amusing backstory to accompany the doodle, below.

eet Glorpt the Absent-Minded Cosmic Squidlet, a creature who accidentally slipped through a wormhole while trying to remember where it left its snacks.

Glorpt was born in the Candy Nebula, a gelatinous region of outer space where everything—from the asteroids to the stars—has the texture of gummy bears. The squidlets there spend their days practicing interpretive floating, inventing new colours (like blorple and snorgreen), and forgetting what they were doing mid-glide.

One fateful day, Glorpt mistook a wormhole for a vending machine and—poof!—found itself splattered onto a strange blue-and-gold world (that’s Earth, apparently). Ever since, it’s been trying to blend in by posing as modern art. When people stare too long, Glorpt blinks slowly and pretends it’s a reflection on the glass.

Its bright pink and green camouflage was meant to imitate cosmic coral, but on Earth it mostly attracts curious humans and confused lizards. The single wide eye? That’s not for seeing—it’s for daydreaming about home and wondering if it ever really existed.

Locals say if you stare back into that eye for too long, you’ll forget what you were doing too—just like Glorpt.