By Lijie Zhu

You don’t forget your first satellite. The build nights that turned into early mornings. The failed antenna deployment tests. The unexpected victories — like hearing that first beacon. It’s messy, humbling, and wildly addictive.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., launching HADES‑ICM wasn’t just a technical milestone. It was a transformation. We moved from theory to orbit, from whiteboards to downlinks, from dreaming to doing. And now, standing on the other side of that mission, we’ve had time to reflect.

There’s this thing in aerospace — a kind of reverence for "lessons learned." These aren’t just bullet points for presentations. They’re the subtle truths that shape your next design, your next team meeting, your next decision to try again.

So, here’s what we learned from our first mission — and where we’re headed next.

1. Simple ≠ Easy

We started with a belief that simplicity would be our strength. Keep the payload lean. Use off-the-shelf components. Minimize points of failure.

And that worked… until it didn’t.

Space has a way of exposing every assumption. A connector rated to survive vacuum might technically be compliant, but if it wasn’t crimped just right? You’ll find out — probably too late. A firmware patch that works flawlessly on the bench might become unusable with real Doppler shift and noise floor interference.

Takeaway: Simplicity is still our design principle — but it now includes margin, redundancy, and a healthy dose of paranoia.

2. The Ground Game Matters More Than You Think

We obsessed over our satellite’s health. But what we didn’t obsess over enough — at least not early — was the ecosystem around it.

Our ground station worked, sure. But we didn’t fully anticipate how many variables would affect data integrity: temperature drift in SDRs, local RF noise, the quirks of third-party decoding software, or misconfigured time stamps.

Then there’s the human side. Volunteers around the world started logging our signals — some with better reception than we had! We scrambled to onboard them, verify their reports, and build tools to streamline it.

Takeaway: You don’t just launch a satellite. You launch a network — and every link matters.

3. People Show Up If You Let Them

One of the most surprising — and moving — parts of the HADES‑ICM mission was the sheer enthusiasm from people we didn’t even know.

A university group in Argentina tracked us daily. A student in Bangladesh wrote code to parse our telemetry. An artist in Norway submitted an FM beacon poem idea — which, in hindsight, we probably should have flown.

What started as an internal project became… something bigger.

Takeaway: Participation isn’t just possible. It’s powerful. The next generation of mission design must invite community from day one.

4. Redundancy Is Not Optional

We cut a few corners. Not recklessly — just budget-wise. And for the most part, our single-string architecture held up.

But we also had a few close calls:

A partial telemetry blackout due to thermal expansion

A low battery cycle we didn’t predict

A weird data glitch that resolved itself (thankfully)

In each case, a bit of redundancy — a second sensor, a watchdog circuit, a fallback mode — would’ve saved us stress.

Takeaway: Redundancy doesn’t have to be bulky. It just has to be thoughtful.

5. Don’t Wait to Celebrate

We were so focused on "making it work" that we sometimes forgot to pause. To say, “Hey, that test passed — let’s enjoy this.” Or, “Our satellite just deployed, and it’s alive.”

That’s easy to skip in startup mode, or when deadlines blur into each other.

But space is hard. Wins matter. And even small ones deserve a moment.

Takeaway: Mission culture is just as important as mission specs. Celebrate your team.

So… What’s Next?

After HADES‑ICM, we’re building toward a more open, scalable platform:

More modular PocketQubes — faster to iterate, easier to adapt

Payloads by invitation — artists, teachers, and tinkerers welcome

A new community dashboard for real-time tracking and experimentation

Open source tools to decode and visualize data with no prior experience

We’re also working on the next icMercury mission, which we hope will reflect everything we learned — and everything we’re still figuring out.

And in November, we’ll be heading to London for the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted by the International Trade Council. Being nominated is a big deal for us — not because of prestige, but because of what it represents: that our work is part of something bigger. That space innovation is being recognized as a global language — and we’re proud to be fluent in it.

It’s not just a ceremony. It’s a convergence — a gathering of the world’s builders, thinkers, and doers. And we’re grateful to be in the room.

Final Thought

First missions are never perfect. Ours wasn’t. But it was real. And that’s what matters.

Because now we know what works — and what we’d never do again.

By Seda Hewitt, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., United States

There’s a tendency—still, even now—for space to feel like it belongs to someone else. To governments. To billionaires. To people with advanced degrees or corporate ties. And while those voices are absolutely part of the story, they’re not the only ones who belong at the table—or in orbit.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, we’re working toward something different. Through our PocketQube missions like HADES‑ICM and the icMercury platform, we’ve seen a shift. Space is no longer reserved for the privileged few. It’s becoming more open, more participatory, and—most importantly—more human.

But the truth is, this openness doesn’t happen by accident. It takes intention. It takes infrastructure. It takes storytelling, outreach, and platforms that don’t just allow for inclusion, but actively invite it.

Why Inclusivity in Space Tech Matters

It’s not just a feel-good idea. Diversity in technology—especially in emerging fields like nanosatellites—leads to more robust solutions. Different minds see different problems. They approach them in ways others wouldn’t even consider.

When satellite access is limited to large institutions or specific geographies, we miss out on a huge range of innovation. That’s not hypothetical—it’s quantifiable. There are ideas from rural educators in Nigeria, from Indigenous students in Canada, from young women in STEM clubs in Southeast Asia, that can change how we think about satellite usage.

The point is not charity. It’s equity. And frankly, it’s smart.

How We’re Trying to Make Room

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’ve made a few quiet but deliberate choices:

Transparent telemetry: We publish our satellite data formats and welcome decoding communities worldwide. You don’t need a contract or a password—just curiosity.

Educational kits: Through our icMercury program, we help schools and citizen groups get involved in satellite tracking and experimentation.

Low-barrier launch partnerships: We work with rideshare providers to keep payload costs down, enabling more small teams and individuals to enter orbit.

There’s a story I often think about—a group of high school girls from the Midwest who used open-source tools to build their own ground station. They tracked HADES‑ICM from their school roof and presented their findings to the local council. Nothing flashy. No spotlight. But that’s the work that changes things.

Not every innovation happens in a lab. Sometimes it’s in a classroom. Sometimes it’s on a kitchen table.

Representation Isn’t Just a Visual

Of course, inclusivity isn’t only about who gets to participate technically. It’s about who sees themselves reflected in the narrative.

This is where storytelling plays a role. We’re intentional about who speaks for our company. I write these pieces not as a faceless corporate rep, but as Seda Hewitt—a woman in aerospace, speaking from lived experience. And I know how rare that still is.

When young people see someone like them in space—when they hear their language, see their culture acknowledged, find tools that meet them where they are—it sticks. It plants a seed. And sometimes that seed grows into a career, a mission, a whole new industry standard.

Inclusion at the Global Level

This November, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. will be in London, attending the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted by the International Trade Council. We’re honored to be nominated.

But what excites me even more is what the event represents: a global exchange of ideas, experiences, and potential partnerships. This isn’t just an awards night. It’s a conclave of minds from across borders, across industries. An environment where real collaboration can take root.

And yes, it’s the perfect setting to keep talking about inclusive access—not just in space tech, but in all tech. Because the future we’re building depends on who gets to help build it.

Making Space Feel Personal

We’re not under any illusion that satellites are suddenly “easy.” They’re complex. They require patience, training, tools. But they’re no longer as unreachable as they once were.

Part of our mission is showing that you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to participate. You can be a teacher looking to inspire your students. A maker tinkering with antennas. A retiree scanning signals from your backyard. A student asking “What if?”

Inclusivity means honoring all those roles. Because each one adds value. Each one keeps the movement growing.

A Final Thought

Inclusivity isn’t a box you check. It’s a culture. A philosophy. A commitment to asking “Who else can be here?” and then actually making room.

Space, despite its vastness, used to feel closed off. But today, that’s changing. At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’re just one part of that shift. We believe the skies are open—not just physically, but ideologically.

So the next time you hear a satellite pass overhead, remember: that signal? It’s not just science. It’s an invitation.

By Harri Laitinen

If you think space is only for engineers in lab coats or university students with grants, think again. A new generation is listening in. Building up. Beaming out.

We’re talking about Gen Alpha—kids born between 2010 and the mid-2020s. They’re digital natives. Touchscreen thinkers. AI conversers. And now, some of them are interacting with satellites before they hit their teens.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., through our icMercury platform, we’ve seen firsthand how this generation is transforming space tech from an elite domain into something familiar—and even playful.

Meet the New Space Natives

For Gen Alpha, space isn’t abstract. It’s interactive.

These are kids who:

Use apps to track PocketQubes from their backyard

Hear satellite beacons as part of school STEM kits

Write their own satellite commands in simple scripting languages

View downlinked data like it’s just another part of their digital life

They’re not amazed that satellites exist. They’re amazed that they can talk to them.

How We’re Supporting Their Curiosity

At icMercury, we believe it’s never too early to get involved in space. So we’re making sure our tools:

Simplify complexity with age-friendly dashboards

Offer guided mission builder kits for classrooms

Include visual data storytelling tools so even 10-year-olds can interpret telemetry

Provide open callsigns where students can help “name” live satellites they’re tracking

Partner with schools to design payloads that include creative and cultural inputs from Gen Alpha learners

Because what we teach now becomes the tech they’ll lead tomorrow.

Real Stories, Real Kids, Real Satellites

A 9-year-old in the Philippines designed an icon-based satellite control interface using Scratch

A primary school in South Africa used icMercury data to track weather patterns over their village

A girl in Finland drew a comic strip that was encoded and uploaded as an orbital time capsule

A Gen Alpha user in Mexico became a local media hero after detecting his first satellite signal using a homemade antenna

They’re not waiting to “grow into” space. They’re already growing with it.

Why This Matters

When we include kids this young, we’re not just sparking interest in STEM. We’re laying the groundwork for:

A generation that feels ownership of orbital tech

Engineers who understand space not as cold and distant—but personal

Global citizens who care deeply about data ethics, space sustainability, and accessibility

Creators who won’t just fly satellites… but imagine entirely new ways to use them

And in a world that’s more connected—and more chaotic—than ever, we need young voices shaping the future of space.

The View Ahead

As Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. prepares for the 2025 Go Global Awards in London, we’re not just highlighting our tech. We’re highlighting the kids who already use it. The ones growing up fluent in orbital language. The ones who won’t ask “Can I access space?” They’ll ask, “Why wouldn’t I?”

By Lijie Zhu

You might be surprised what you can send into space with a few centimeters of volume and a well-thought-out plan.

PocketQubes — those tiny, cube-shaped satellites that measure just 5cm per side — are rewriting the rules of what’s possible in orbit. When we built and launched HADES‑ICM at Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., our goal wasn’t just to prove that something so small could survive space. It was to demonstrate that it could carry meaning. Utility. Even imagination.

That’s the thing about payloads: they don’t have to be huge. They just have to be intentional.

And PocketQubes, in their compact simplicity, are turning into platforms for everything from scientific experiments to artistic expression to new communication tools.

Let’s take a look at what’s possible — and what’s already happening.

1. Research: Science in Miniature

PocketQubes are ideal for scientific exploration, particularly in low-Earth orbit (LEO). Their size limits the scale of payloads — but not their value.

You’ll find:

Environmental sensors (temperature, pressure, radiation)

Biological experiments (like how microbes react to microgravity)

Material tests (how composites or coatings handle cosmic exposure)

Magnetometer readings for studying the Earth's magnetic field

One of the more fascinating recent missions involved a PocketQube carrying a micro ion detector to monitor charged particles in the upper atmosphere. With a short mission life, it gathered useful data — and returned insight far beyond its weight class.

HADES‑ICM itself includes a suite of telemetry tools designed to track onboard health, but also provide insight into passive orbital behaviors — like thermal cycling and battery degradation.

PocketQubes allow universities and independent researchers to run real science on real satellites, without waiting years or spending millions.

2. Art: Storytelling from Orbit

Yes, art belongs in space too.

And no, we don’t mean murals on space station walls. We mean payloads that are expressive, reflective — and sometimes downright poetic.

Some PocketQube missions have:

Encoded poems in Morse code broadcast over FM frequencies

Carried voice recordings that loop during orbital passes

Transmitted visual pixel-art patterns using slow-scan television (SSTV)

Included tiny plaques with artwork etched onto metal, exposed to space

When you realize that anyone with a modest SDR setup can receive these transmissions, the project shifts from being “just technical” to something much broader.

Suddenly, someone in a rural village can hear a poem beamed down from space.

That’s… kind of incredible.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’ve always believed in space as a shared canvas, and we’ve had the privilege of collaborating with educators and artists to explore new ways to use orbit as a form of expression.

3. Communications: Making Contact Count

Communications is where PocketQubes arguably shine brightest.

They can act as:

Amateur radio repeaters

Beacon transmitters for educational outreach

Telemetry platforms for global ground station collaboration

Data relays for remote sensing networks

Because they’re affordable and modular, they allow organizations — even individuals — to experiment with new protocols, test antennas, and explore mesh communication in space.

Take HADES‑ICM again. It broadcasts telemetry packets that are publicly decodable. Anyone can track its orbit, collect data, and even submit reception logs. That model creates a collaborative environment, not just a one-way broadcast.

Some newer PocketQube concepts are now testing delay-tolerant networks — relaying packets between satellites in low-Earth orbit before beaming them down. That has huge implications for disaster recovery zones, maritime communications, or rural education support.

So while the form factor is tiny, the possibilities for interaction are huge.

Why It Matters

Payload versatility isn’t just a feature of PocketQubes. It’s the whole point.

In a world where getting to space used to mean fighting for access, these little cubes are giving that access back. To students. To artists. To ham radio clubs. To curious minds.

And as a company based in the United States, we're proud that Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. has contributed to this ecosystem — not just by launching satellites, but by opening doors.

That’s also part of why we’re honored to be a nominee for the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted by the International Trade Council this November in London. It’s more than an event. It’s a convergence — a place where ideas from every sector and country cross-pollinate, and where small players can have big conversations.

PocketQubes, in a way, are the same: tiny things that create outsized connection.

Final Thought

Science. Art. Communication. Three very different domains — all thriving inside a box the size of a tangerine.

That’s the magic of PocketQubes. They remind us that impact isn’t about volume. It’s about intention, access, and the will to try something unusual.

By Seda Hewitt, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., United States

Somewhere, right now, a teenager in Brazil is tuning into a signal from low Earth orbit using nothing more than a handheld antenna and a modest transceiver. Halfway across the world, a retired engineer in Japan is logging beacon pings from a PocketQube on his balcony. And in a small town in Eastern Europe, a community radio club is decoding live telemetry and sharing it with their local school.

What connects all these people?

Amateur radio—or “ham radio,” as it’s often called.

Once seen as a quaint, niche hobby, amateur radio is experiencing something of a renaissance. And it’s not because of nostalgia. It’s because the boundaries between Earth and space have started to thin. With small, affordable satellites like HADES‑ICM, and platforms like icMercury—from Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States—radio operators are now part of an expanding universe.

They’re no longer just reaching across continents. They’re reaching the stars.

A Legacy Hobby Meets a New Frontier

Amateur radio has been around for over a century. Traditionally, it’s been about sending and receiving messages, experimenting with antennas, and mastering long-distance communication through the atmosphere.

But the hobby has always carried a spirit of experimentation. And when space became accessible—not just to governments and corporations, but to hobbyists—radio operators were among the first to notice.

Satellites started transmitting in ham bands. Suddenly, a new frontier opened up—one that didn’t require a launchpad, only a license, a radio, and a bit of patience.

That spirit continues today. Only now, the satellites are smaller, cheaper, and far more interactive.

PocketQubes: The Game Changer

Our icMercury satellites, including HADES‑ICM, are about the size of a Rubik’s Cube and weigh less than a loaf of bread. But don’t let that fool you—they’re packed with capability. Operating on VHF and UHF amateur radio bands, they transmit beacon signals, telemetry data, and even allow for APRS relays (Automatic Packet Reporting System), enabling two-way messaging through space.

For amateur radio enthusiasts, this means:

Tracking live satellites with antennas they build themselves

Decoding telemetry using open-source software

Sending and receiving APRS messages through orbit

Participating in global space missions from their backyards

It’s not just fun. It’s real contribution.

Some hams are the first to hear a new satellite after deployment. Others provide critical signal reports that help us at Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. refine operations. In a way, they’ve become mission partners—not officially on payroll, but unquestionably essential.

Why It’s Growing Again

Part of this revival is technological. Radios have become cheaper. Software has become more intuitive. Online communities have made it easier to learn. You don’t need a room full of gear anymore. A laptop and a $30 USB receiver can get you started.

But I think there’s something else going on.

In an era where most tech feels invisible—apps, clouds, algorithms—radio offers something tangible. You build it. You hear it. You feel it. And when you know that the beep you’re picking up just came from 500 km above Earth? That never stops being thrilling.

Young people are discovering this for the first time. Older hobbyists are coming back. And in the middle, a growing, global network of curious minds is forming.

A Culture of Sharing

Amateur radio has always had a generous, open-source heart. That fits beautifully with the way icMercury is built. We publish our telemetry formats. We share frequencies. We invite people to play, test, fail, and try again.

And they do.

We’ve seen logs from over 60 countries. We've received signal recordings from volunteers within hours of launch. We’ve had entire school groups build their own antennas based on blog posts from other hams.

This is space participation at its best—not centralized, not monetized, but communal.

Recognition Beyond the Hobby

This kind of public involvement is gaining notice at higher levels, too. This November, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. will attend the 2025 Go Global Awards in London, hosted by the International Trade Council. We’re proud to be a nominee.

But the real story isn’t just about our team—it’s about the people behind the scenes. The ones listening to passes at 3 a.m., who share signal maps online, who teach a younger generation how to tune into the sky.

At events like the Go Global Awards, where businesses and policymakers meet, we hope to shine a light on these communities. Because the future of space isn’t just built in boardrooms. It’s also soldered in garages and logged in field notebooks.

Final Thought: When You Listen, You Belong

Amateur radio is, at its core, about listening. And when you listen—really listen—you start to feel like you’re part of something bigger.

Maybe you hear a faint Morse beacon from HADES‑ICM. Maybe you decode a string of telemetry values and realize what they mean. Maybe you hear silence and wait again tomorrow. It doesn’t matter. You’re part of the sky now.

And in a world where space can feel distant, technical, and owned by someone else… that feeling of inclusion? It’s powerful.

By Harri Laitinen

When people hear the word “payload,” they think of data packets, radios, cameras, or scientific sensors. But here at Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’ve come to embrace a broader—and more poetic—definition.

What if a payload is a feeling? A verse? A smear of paint encoded in pixels or plasma? What if space isn’t just a place to observe… but a canvas?

Through our icMercury platform, we’ve helped individuals, schools, artists, and dreamers launch more than hardware. We’ve helped them launch meaning.

Not All Payloads Transmit Data. Some Transmit Emotion.

In recent years, we’ve seen a quiet creative revolution in orbital missions:

A payload that blinked LED strobes in Morse code to transmit poems

A memory chip that looped a sound recording of a lullaby from a now-silent mother

A camera that didn’t look down at Earth, but up—toward stars, filming them in abstract time-lapse for a visual art gallery

A mission that encoded oil painting brushstrokes into data packets and broadcast them via UHF, one frame at a time

These aren’t anomalies. They’re signals. That space is ready for more than science. It’s ready for soul.

Art in Orbit: Why It Matters

People ask, “Why send art to space when there are more urgent needs?”

We ask: What’s more urgent than remembering we’re human?

Art in orbit:

Makes space personal

Inspires STEM and STEAM learners equally

Helps communities tell their stories across borders—and altitudes

Gives non-technical creators a role in aerospace exploration

Turns the cold mechanics of orbital life into shared beauty

It’s not about frivolity. It’s about belonging.

icMercury and the Artistic Payload Movement

Our platform was built for flexibility—and that includes creative missions.

We’ve supported:

Digital poetry archives, broadcast line by line across beacons

Miniature origami sculptures, launched as symbolic payloads

Interactive “message in a bottle” modules, that reply to uplinks with pre-loaded phrases

Open payload bays for community-sourced media (voice notes, drawings, field recordings)

In a world where you can now launch 250 grams to orbit for a few thousand dollars, we ask: Why not send something beautiful?

The Future: Collaborative Cosmic Canvases

Looking ahead, we’re exploring:

PocketQube payloads as flying galleries, rotating art exhibits beamed across the globe

School projects that combine science and spoken word, letting students send both telemetry and truth

Crowd-curated payloads: community art stitched together and launched as a shared cultural beacon

Live visualizations of downlinked data as performance, turning sensor readings into generative art

Because the next golden age of space might not be defined by rockets. It might be defined by what we put inside them.

As We Head to London...

The 2025 Go Global Awards in London are a time to showcase our innovations. But for us, it’s also a time to remind the world that innovation isn’t only technical.

It’s emotional. It’s cultural. It’s a painting in orbit. A poem that pulses in the vacuum. A payload with a pulse.

By Lijie Zhu

You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to take part in space exploration.

Seriously.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’ve always believed that space should be personal, accessible, and a little bit messy — the way real discovery feels. And our icMercury initiative is built around that exact idea.

If you’ve ever looked up and wondered, Could I be part of something like this? — the answer is: yes. You can. And you don’t have to wait for permission.

Whether you’re a student, teacher, radio amateur, coder, or just really curious — there are ways to contribute, participate, and shape what icMercury becomes. It’s not just a platform. It’s a community. And we’re inviting you in.

1. Listen to Our Satellites

Every time our PocketQubes pass overhead, they say something. Usually in little chirps — digital beacons containing telemetry, identifiers, even occasional experimental signals.

All you need is:

A basic SDR (Software Defined Radio) setup

An antenna (DIY builds are totally fine)

A computer or Raspberry Pi

Open-source decoding tools like Direwolf, GNURadio, or SatNOGS

You don’t need to be a comms expert. We’ve had high school students pick up our signals, log them, and send them back to us — often with creative flair.

Your reception reports help validate our data and improve our next missions. Every ping counts.

2. Join icMercury Beta Programs

We’re constantly building — apps, dashboards, experiment tools — and we need testers who aren’t afraid to click around, break things, and share feedback.

Upcoming beta opportunities include:

Mission tracking apps for web and mobile

Citizen science modules for in-orbit experiments

Interactive AR overlays for understanding telemetry in fun ways

Beta testers don’t need credentials. You just need curiosity — and maybe a little patience.

3. Submit a Payload Idea

One of the boldest things we’ve done is open up small payload opportunities to the public.

Not a 20-kilogram camera. Not a spectrometer. Think smaller:

A tiny sensor for temperature or light

A poem in Morse code

A low-data experiment to test binary signal behavior

We’ve flown payloads from artists, teachers, even a group of retirees from a community tech lab. If it fits our constraints and sparks curiosity, we’ll consider it.

icMercury isn’t just for engineers. It’s for experimenters.

4. Collaborate as an Educator

If you’re a teacher or program coordinator, we’d love to talk.

We’ve helped schools develop:

Custom lesson plans tied to real satellite data

Ground station kits for classrooms

Launch-day watch parties and beacon hunts

Space becomes real when students can track something they sent a message to — even if it’s just a digital ping. And these programs don’t require high budgets or fancy gear. We’re here to help you adapt and scale based on your needs.

5. Contribute Code, Tools, or Translations

Are you a developer? A designer? Bilingual? There’s space for you too.

We welcome:

Interface designs for mission data

Custom decoders or signal tools

Documentation translations for non-English-speaking enthusiasts

We’ve had volunteers in Colombia build localized ground station guides, and open-source contributors improve our beacon parsers.

Community isn’t just talk. It’s contribution — in whatever form that takes.

6. Attend Our Webinars and Local Meetups

We host regular free webinars titled "Unlocking the Possibilities: How You Can Launch a Satellite". No jargon. No gatekeeping. Just open conversations with our team, Q&As, and a few laughs.

And soon, we’ll be expanding to in-person meetups — casual gatherings to talk PocketQubes, antennas, orbital weirdness, and dreams.

If you’ve ever thought I have questions but don’t know where to ask them, these are for you.

7. Be Part of Something Bigger

This isn't a marketing line. It’s a truth.

Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. has been nominated for the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted by the International Trade Council this November in London. And that nomination isn’t just about us — it’s about what we’re building with all of you.

The Go Global Awards aren’t just accolades. They’re a summit of the boldest thinkers in trade, innovation, and exploration. We’re proud to bring the icMercury community into that conversation.

Because innovation without community isn’t progress — it’s just noise.

Final Thought

Getting involved with space doesn’t require a PhD or millions in funding. It just takes a little wonder and a willingness to try.

With icMercury, we’re building something experimental, human, and open-ended. Not just a satellite program — but a participatory movement.

The stars are up there. But the opportunity? It’s right here.

By Seda Hewitt, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., United States

If you ask someone who owns space, they might pause for a second.

Maybe they’ll say NASA. Or Elon Musk. Maybe they’ll laugh and say “no one,” assuming it’s too far away to belong to anybody. And technically, under international law, outer space belongs to all of us—it's part of the global commons.

But in practice? That’s a bit more complicated.

For decades, space has been the domain of large government agencies and, more recently, deep-pocketed private companies. The average person could look up at the night sky, maybe spot a satellite crossing overhead, but that was it. There wasn’t a clear sense that space was something they could interact with—much less own, shape, or influence.

That’s changing.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, we’re not just building satellites through our icMercury program and missions like HADES‑ICM—we’re rethinking what participation in space looks like. And part of that means reframing “ownership.” Not in the legal sense, but in terms of belonging, access, and agency.

Let’s talk about what this means, and why it matters more than ever.

Ownership Without Property

Here’s where we hit a paradox. You can’t own outer space. The 1967 Outer Space Treaty makes that clear: no nation can claim sovereignty, and space is for peaceful purposes, open to all humanity.

But what about the satellite you build? The data you transmit? The signal you receive through a ground station in your backyard? These things are very much "yours," in a practical sense. So maybe the question isn’t who owns space, but rather, who feels like they belong in it?

And for a long time, the answer was… not many.

Now, with the rise of micro-satellites, software-defined radios, and open-access missions like ours, that feeling of ownership is starting to spread.

You don’t need a PhD. You don’t need clearance codes. You just need a bit of curiosity—and maybe a tiny satellite, like HADES‑ICM, passing overhead.

What Public Ownership Can Look Like

In the icMercury community, we’ve seen firsthand how people from all walks of life begin to “own” space in meaningful ways.

Students tracking satellite telemetry from their high school labs

Farmers using downlinked data to monitor soil conditions

Amateur radio operators decoding APRS messages and sharing signal reports

Artists and educators designing payloads that blend science with public storytelling

Local governments installing small ground stations for civic preparedness

None of these groups "own" the orbit. But they’re shaping what happens in it. They’re making it personal. Familiar. Real.

That’s what we mean by public sphere ownership—not legal possession, but lived participation.

Naming, Narratives, and Visibility

One small but powerful tool we've introduced through icMercury is the option for users to name their own payloads. It sounds simple—maybe even superficial—but giving people the chance to embed their own language, identity, or cause into an orbiting object? That’s transformative.

We’ve had payloads named for ancestors, classrooms, ideas, even songs. Each one adds to a growing library of personal connections with the sky. And this is where storytelling really matters.

Because if space continues to be a silent, distant, sterile thing… people will continue to see it as someone else’s domain.

But if it starts to feel like a place of stories, where your culture, your questions, your experiments are welcome? Then the idea of ownership shifts—from control to inclusion.

Building with That in Mind

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’ve built the icMercury platform to be modular, open, and user-friendly—because real ownership comes from understanding. We don’t hide the backend. We encourage exploration. We invite mistakes.

And we learn from our users.

One group in Eastern Europe created a local club where citizens could submit “satellite postcards”—small digital messages uplinked and relayed by our satellites. Another group in the Philippines is mapping radio dead zones using HADES‑ICM passes and sharing the data publicly for telecom advocacy.

None of these were part of the original mission plan. But that’s the point.

We provide the tools. The public writes the story.

Shaping the Global Conversation

Later this year, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. is heading to London as a nominee for the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted by the International Trade Council. It’s more than an awards show—it’s a conclave of the world’s most innovative minds, coming together to discuss how business, tech, and global impact intersect.

And yes, space will be on the agenda.

Because if we’re going to democratize access to space, we need more than rockets. We need frameworks that support ethical inclusion, cultural diversity, and community-led innovation.

We’re proud to be part of that conversation. And even prouder to bring the voices of our users with us—some of whom, not long ago, never imagined they’d have a connection to space at all.

Final Thought: It’s Not About Owning the Sky—It’s About Belonging to It

So maybe we’ll never "own" space in the way we own land or phones or patents. That’s okay.

But we can belong to it. We can shape it. Use it. Build with it. Talk about it at the dinner table, the classroom, the community hall.

And when enough people feel that connection—when space becomes a shared commons in spirit, not just in law—that’s when the real shift happens.