News of Node 0 spread like a new wind. It was no longer just nearby communities asking to join—messages from distant places began to arrive. From rural areas with no internet access to urban collectives seeking to restore their bond with animals, everyone wanted to understand what this "Alliance" was.
"How do you explain something that's felt before it's understood?" Marta asked one morning.
Spektor offered an unexpected solution:"Letters."
Carlos looked up.
"Letters?"
"Yes," replied the parrot. "Not emails. Letters. Written. On paper. With human mistakes and doodles. Letters that speak of what we feel, not just what we've done."
Max barked. He agreed.
For a week, the entire shelter devoted itself to an unprecedented exercise: writing. Every animal, human, and intelligence wrote a letter. They weren't reports or speeches. They were confessions. Memories. Hopes.
Alex wrote to his past self:"You thought taking care of a dog would be a burden. Now he takes better care of you than anyone else."
Marta wrote to her mother, who never understood her love for animals:"Now they live with me, teach me, and give me reasons to keep going."
Carlos wrote to a theoretical AI that didn't exist yet:"When you wake up, I hope you find a world that doesn't fear you, but listens to you."
Max's letter was simple. Dictated through barks, translated by Luma:"Thank you for not giving up when I didn't yet know how to say it."
Echo wrote to Rex. Not to forgive. Not to condemn. Just to say:"I'm here. And I'm moving forward."
Over two hundred letters were printed. Each one bore a drawing, a symbol, or a mark. Some had dried tears. Others had ink-drawn smiles.
And they were sent—not by email.
But in sealed envelopes, delivered by hand, or placed on public walls in each region with the phrase:
"For those who don't understand yet—but want to start feeling."
The impact was immediate.
In a mountain village, a group of children created their own temporary shelter for chickens, dogs, and goats.
In a coastal city, an old library was transformed into a digital-animal community center.
In a remote desert, an abandoned weather station was converted into Node 1, replicating Vera's model.
One morning, the least expected response arrived.
A letter.
From someone no one knew.
Handwritten. Sealed with a drawing of a paw and a circuit.
It read:
"I'm not one of you. But I've read your words. I've felt something I didn't know was allowed. I too want to write to the unexpected. May I begin?"
Signed:Unit Omega.
Max barked.
And in the shelter, everyone understood:
The unexpected… had just replied.