Loose Pages
The Spaces Between
Whether driven by exploration, ambition, or survival, humanity is always in transit. While developing the sprawling timeline of Aeternis, I’ve been thinking about the myriad ways people might journey across the cosmos, from gleaming, high-tech terminals on wealthy worlds to the rough-riding ports of less prosperous stations.
Generative AI allowed me to visually ponder the nuances of interstellar travel—how the wealth of a world shapes its terminals, how travelers navigate the balance between comfort and necessity, and how every stop, from the gleaming hubs to the shadowy outposts, tells a story of its own. It offered a glimpse into a universe teeming with life and ambition, capturing travelers in orbiting terminals, dusty planetary ports, and luminous transfer hubs. Some are clearly prosperous, sleek and modern; others feel neglected and worn down, perhaps even forgotten.
The scenes that sparked the most curiosity were the ones that explored not just the act of travel, but the spaces between—the waiting, the departures, the unspoken tension and emotional weight of interplanetary travel. Though representative of various periods, many of the images spoke directly to Aeternis‘ Red Veil era, where humanity’s once ever-expanding civilization began to contract.
The Red Veil was more of a slow toxin than sudden cataclysm, a creeping corruption that seeded itself in planetary ecosystems across the outer rim. Entire worlds became aware of their fate long before the end came. There were no swift evacuations, just prolonged retreats, staggered, rationed, desperate departures. Stations became lifeboats. Transit hubs became choke points. Boarding a vessel wasn’t just travel; it was an escape. The farther one could move inward, toward central systems, the better the chances of long-term survival.
The wealthy fled early. A fortunate few secured passage, as governments and corporations managed logistics for as long as their systems held. This migration back toward the heart of civilization marked an inflection point in human history: the reversal of a millennia-long expansion.
I was surprised by how many of these images seemed to capture that shift, not always literally, but in spirit. Some portray worlds strained, yet still functioning. Others hint at abandonment, decay, or crisis, heavy with the weight of what’s been lost or left behind.
For those who lived during this era of contraction, the Red Veil wasn’t just a story of collapse, but one of waiting: in lines, or in limbo. For some, passage came. For others, hope faded with each departing ship, until a crimson sky was all that remained.
These images really helped me visualize this aspect of Aeternis’ long history—some from the height of civilization, others from its unraveling. Together, they speak to a story of movement and migration, and a question that echoed across worlds for centuries: Where will you go when the Veil touches your world?