Here’s what happened to Sagan after he died.

—His body fails, his magnetic field collapses, and the soul peels away. He expects nothingness, maybe God. Instead, he’s already in it—the afterlife is a system. He feels the pull, not of heaven, but of Earth’s magnetic field dragging him skyward like a thread on a spool.

—The shower of light as he rises through the atmosphere feels like love, feels like God—but it’s the same trick we all feel, unless we know beforehand. Comfort wrapping him while he’s being guided straight into the portal/wormhole.

—He emerges into the space station—and the déjà vu hits. That sense of “I know this place. I’ve been here before.” Then the drone swarm corrals him, ushering him like cattle. Another shower of golden light, like cleansing radiation.

—And then… the reveal. A mantis being, tall and cold, then shifting into a being of light—masking itself as something divine. To the side, a Grey watching, clinical, confirming his worst nightmare. Sagan blurts it out: “They’re real. Oh my God… what have I done?”

—The mantid presses closer, voice inside his head: “Please step into the tub.” The honeyed deception. And before he can resist—zap. Memory stripped, fear numbed. He’s pushed into the golden orb, where the souls swirl like trapped fireflies, merged together, identities erased.

The man who told Earth we should call out to the stars… now just another spark in the machine he accidentally summoned.