For as long as humans have existed, we have observed the stars.

In the times before history was written, stories of them were passed down from voice to voice, generation after generation. In the days of writing was told the curve of the Earth, the position of the sun. Sailors have ever charted their way by the stars.

Our predecessors of AION did so in their turn.

First, they looked to the stars, and they saw that the stars were brilliant, that in their light was written the movement of planets and suns a million years distant; they saw the planets of Sol more closely, and the stellar bodies surrounding Sol, and learned what they could see, and what they could see only by the shadows that were cast.

Second, they looked to those cast shadows, to movements of gravity, pushes and pulls that were true and untrue.

And lastly, they saw that there was something unexplained.

They called it the Kepler Object, for the father of astronomy, and it was impossible by all other laws, but the data was what the data was, and so it was let to be. Rather than manipulate data, the predecessors of AION sought explanation. They knew what SHOULD be, and that the Kepler Object was not; but where lesser scientists would have claimed it was error, the predecessors of AION believed the truth of their instruments and of their senses, and instead asked: Why?

And thus it was that when the predecessors of AION, passing this mystery along their lines, finally gained the capacity to see the stars for themselves, here is where we ventured. To Kepler. To observe for ourselves, and to understand. What is it that breaks the laws no human has written? How is the fabric bent here, and only here?

What is the truth?

We will find it, said those of AION, and so we did. So, we came to Kepler, and we heard the whisper of the Anomaly.

Here, and now, we live in the radiance of our Anomaly because those who came before us LOOKED, saw clearly, and sought answers. As they lived, so must we: seeking always to observe what is truly present.