Maya Costa walks into her chemistry lab in Loulé, in southern Portugal, on a Monday morning in late September. Except — the lab is not a lab anymore.
Where the periodic table used to hang, there is now a poster of the Alqueva sky. Where the eyewash station used to be, there is a small printed mission patch on the wall, silver, with a crescent Moon. The benches have been pushed against the walls and replaced with three tables in a U-shape, like a control room she once saw in a documentary about NASA. There is a clock on one wall — but it is not showing local time. It is showing Mission Elapsed Time: 00:00:00.
Maya is fourteen. She is the first person in her family who is even thinking about university. Her mother works in a hotel restaurant. Her father drives a delivery van. They have never told her she could not be a scientist; they have also never told her she could. Most of Maya’s life, she has quietly loved space.
Her chemistry teacher, Mr Soares, looks up from his desk. He smiles. He says: “We are no longer a chemistry class, Maya. As of this morning, we are SPHERE Cohort 2026.”
Behind Maya, four other students walk in: Klara from Innsbruck (somehow on a video call from Austria, projected on the back wall), Piotr from Wrocław, Eleni from Athens, Lukas from Munich. Five faces from five countries, on five screens, in one Portuguese chemistry lab. Mr Soares introduces them all. They wave shyly. The Mission Elapsed Time clock blinks.
And then a voice — a soft voice with a faint Portuguese accent — comes from the speakers:
“Hello, cohort. My name is Bella. I think they were waiting for you.”
Maya feels something tighten in her chest. She does not yet know what it is. (We do. It is the moment a journey begins.)
The clock starts counting forward.
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🎬 Watch the animated version of this story (link above). Notice which phrase, image, or moment stays with you most. Bring it to the forum thread for Stage 1.