The Message We Ignored:

On a quiet day in June 1976, 23-year-old student pilot Rafael Pacheco Pérez took off from Mexico City for what should have been a routine training flight. Somewhere over the countryside, radio chatter went silent.

An hour later, his voice returned, only it wasn’t entirely his own.

“He is speaking because he is ordered to do so… we are using him as a microphone. We don’t matter much, nor where we come from… just know we are beings from this universe to which you belong. Our planet is many light-years away, but we are physically the same as you. You are not alone in the universe, and there are other races we are keeping away from you… but we are watching you.”

Pacheco had no memory of the flight, no idea what had been said, and, remarkably, no burning urge to immediately move to a bunker.

From the microphone to the megaphone

In 1976, the idea of a message like that being heard by the world in real time was science fiction. Today, it would take seconds to go global, faster than most people can microwave a burrito.

Unfortunately, “global reach” has mostly been used to share pet videos and bad opinions, so maybe amplification alone isn’t the leap forward we like to think it is.

AI, space travel, and our dangerous adolescence

Nearly fifty years later, humanity is capable of designing autonomous spacecraft, mapping exoplanets we’ve never visited, and running life-support systems that could sustain crews for decades.

The same AI could also:

• Optimise nuclear targeting systems before you’ve finished your coffee.

• Identify weak points in an adversary’s defences faster than a gossip columnist at a political scandal.

• Calculate the shortest path to “victory”, often skipping over the awkward part where anyone survives.

We’ve essentially given a teenager a supercar, a black credit card, and no speed limit.

“We keep other races away from you”

That part of the 1976 message hangs in the air, and it doesn’t sound like flattery. If it was real, maybe they’d seen our potential. Or maybe they’d just skimmed a few headlines.

Imagine you’re in a galactic neighbourhood watch and one of the planets starts stockpiling nukes, live-streaming political slap fights, and teaching its machines how to outthink it in every category except wisdom. You’d probably tell the other neighbours to keep their distance, too.

The visitor in the dark

And as if on cue, astronomers have confirmed another interstellar object will soon pass through our solar system. Like ‘Oumuamua in 2017, it’s from outside our system. Origin? Unknown. Timing? Curious.

It will pass by quietly, which, if it is occupied, is probably the galactic equivalent of driving past a rowdy house party without making eye contact.

Ninety seconds to midnight

The Doomsday Clock now sits at 90 seconds to midnight, the closest it’s ever been. Ukraine. Taiwan. The Middle East. More than 12,000 nuclear warheads. And a growing number of automated systems that can act in milliseconds.

We are one miscalculation, mistranslation, or poorly timed “watch this” moment away from sending a signal no one will survive.

We are still being watched

If the 1976 transmission was a hoax, it’s aged disturbingly well.
If it wasn’t, maybe we’ve been living under observation for decades.

Either way, the message still lands with the subtlety of a brick through a window:

“You are not alone in the universe… we are watching you.”

The question is whether they’re watching with curiosity… or just making sure the problem doesn’t spread.