Iris Lennard descended the elevator into Dr. Alan Krieger’s underground laboratory. The cold air of the space contrasted with the warmth of the desert above them. The lab, embedded in the depths of the Atacama Desert, glowed blue from its futuristic equipment: ultra-vacuum glass spheres suspended in magnetic frames, lasers aligned with atomic precision, and a central hologram projecting a dynamic model of the known universe.

Arriving on the lower level, Iris found Dr. Krieger hunched over a console, his thin figure illuminated by the screens. His face was drawn with exhaustion, and the evidence of years of obsessive dedication. For him, this project wasn’t just science; it was a mission.

Dr. Krieger said, “What you are about to witness, Iris, is something no mind has ever been able to fully conceive: a conversation through the very fabric of the universe. Aurora is not just an experiment; it is the key that unlocks a new era.”

Long ago, when humanity was still learning and understanding the subatomic world, there were several mysteries that baffled even the greatest theorists. Of these mysteries, one in particular would open the door to a revolutionary era of discovery: quantum entanglement. Until the era of the Krieger-Lennard duo, this dilemma was something of a magic trick of nature, which no one had managed to fully decipher.

Imagine this scenario: two particles, like two dancers unknown to each other, are linked by an invisible bond. From that moment on, no matter how far they travel from each other, their movements will be perfectly synchronized. Even if they are separated by distances of thousands or millions of light years. If one particle spins to the right, the other will spin to the left, instantly. It is as if they could speak to each other through a secret thread that no one else can see.

The phenomenon was called quantum entanglement, and while it was amazing, there was a catch: the particles seemed to know what to do, but you couldn’t use them to send messages. It was like trying to use two mirrors to converse; you could see reflections, but never send words.

In those distant times, the challenge was monumental. If you wanted to create an instant communication system based on this “synchronized dance,” you had to overcome several barriers. First, the entangled particles were incredibly delicate; any disturbance could break their bond, as if a strong wind were snapping the rope between the two dancers. Second, even though they synchronized, they did so at random, as if they were both flipping a coin and getting the same result without explaining it.

However, there was a turning point in history. It was when a pair of dreamy scientists, Dr. Alan Krieger and his assistant, almost-doctor Iris Lennard, assembled a team and decided it was time to turn magic into reality. They thought that if they could find a hidden pattern in these random results, they could translate them into real messages.

-”Everything is connected by a code that we don’t yet understand,” Dr. Krieger told his colleagues. -”The universe doesn’t do magic, it does math.”

For years, the team worked in a secret laboratory, hidden in northern Chile, where their most advanced equipment kept the entangled particles in a pure state. There they built perfect vacuum chambers and used lasers to manipulate the photons with a precision never before imagined. But even that was not enough.

That’s when Krieger and Lennard had a revolutionary idea: combining quantum entanglement with an advanced prediction system based on artificial intelligence. The trick to beginning to understand the phenomenon was not to force the particles to communicate, but to learn to listen to what they were already saying. So their team developed an algorithm that deciphered the patterns hidden in what had previously seemed random. And so, the first quantum message could be read.

Iris crossed her arms, adopting her usual stance of skepticism.

—”What about the fundamental problems? As far as I understand, quantum entanglement cannot be used to transmit information. Every measurement is random, like a roll of the dice. How do you plan to get around that?”

Krieger looked up, a flash of passion in his eyes.

—”The laws of chance are not as chaotic as they seem, Iris. The universe has an underlying code, a hidden pattern. If we can decipher it, we could establish a quantum language, one that operates beyond causality.”

—”It sounds like metaphysics, not science.”- Of the two, Lennard was always the one with her feet on the ground.

—”That’s what they said about Einstein when he proposed relativity,” Krieger smirked. “Maintaining entanglement is like preserving a snowflake in the middle of a firestorm. We’ve developed these vacuum spheres with atomic precision, but a single vibration could destroy years of work.”

Iris watched him in silence. Though her doubts still lingered, she couldn’t deny the magnitude of the dream before them.

—”Why are you so obsessed with this, Alan?”— He asked after a moment’s hesitation. —”This is more than just science to you, isn’t it?”—

Krieger sighed and stepped away from the console. For a moment, the tireless scientist revealed his humanity.

—”My wife.” His voice weakened as he spoke those words. “I’ve never told you this before. She was an astronaut. About ten years ago, her mission to Proxima Centauri ended in tragedy. We received her last messages, but they took years to arrive. Each word was an echo of someone who was no longer there.”

—”And ... Aurora is your way of changing that?”-