Consider: Humans are the first.
In every sci-fi story where humanity reaches the stars, there are other civilisations waiting for us. Some sort of something there, some sort of intergalactic collective.
We manage it. We reach the stars, so close we can touch them, and we shout into the void "Here we are! Here we are, where are you? Where are you?
Because we are the first. Not the first to touch the stars, no-- there are others who have, but only so far as their own suns. We are the first to reach farther. The first to go so far, because, while there is no physical reason to go quite so far (we have terraformed our worlds, of course, and we can survive any environment so long as we live long enough to adapt to it, and there are not yet so many of us that we can't feed or house ourselves in our own system), we can't stop. There is adventure, there is hope, there is the freedom of being star-bound for distant worlds, distant star systems, different galaxies, of exploration and discovery. We are the first to go so far.
Of course, we can't be-- that doesn't make sense. We can't be the first. There must be someone out there, someone who can show us the way forward because this can't be it, we can't be the first, we don't know how to be the first.
And so, we do what we always have. We create. We explore. We reach other worlds, touch their stars and skies and the depths of their seas, and build great structures, great cities and empires, but we never find quite what we're searching for.
So we keep reaching. We keep building. We keep exploring, further and further. We fumble and struggle and fall, and we pull ourselves back up like we always have.
For decades, centuries, millennia, we are alone. So very, very alone.
And then, one day, someone reaches back. A young species, like we once were, ravaged by war and so, so very afraid of the vast emptiness that waits for them beyond the light of their own suns.
And oh, there it is. The reason we have explored so much.
We are not alone anymore.
They cry out to the stars, just as we did, "Here we are! Here we are, where are you? Where are you?"
And we can reach back. "Here we are," we say. "Here we are! We are human, who are you?"
And we will show them the vastness of the universe, the joy of chasing a comet just to see where it lands, of crying into the void and waiting for someone to finally answer you.
Then we will build together, explore together, and know that we are not alone. They will fumble, they will struggle, they will fall, and we will be there with an outstretched hand and an offer of help.
And one day, another species --young like we once were, ravaged by war and so, so very afraid of the vast emptiness that waits for them beyond the lights of their own sun-- will call, "Here we are, here we are, where are you?"
We will both reach back. "Here we are," we will say, together, "here we are! Who are you?"
Humans are first. But we will certainly not be last.
