He Spoke in Pulsars

They whispered of Ravi sifting words from the hum of pulsars, a madness that made no sense—until Dr. Noor Malik traced the anomaly. Each utterance from Ravi’s lips—soft murmurs and staccato bursts—mirrored the pulse rate of PSR J0534+2200, the Crab Pulsar. The observatory fell silent as Ravi’s voice filled the chamber, translating cosmic beat into human syntax.

At first, engineers had balked, but Malik overrode security protocols, feeding Ravi’s speech into spectral analyzers. The results were staggering: when Ravi spoke of betrayal, the pulsar’s amplitude waned; when he prophesied storm, the spikes surged in frequency. Ravi was not mad—he was a vessel for stellar song.

Under vaulted glass domes, Malik recorded Ravi’s recitation of cosmic history: the births and deaths of stars, the drift of galaxies, the silent symphony of the universe. Each phrase corresponded to sub millisecond variations in the pulsar’s output, forming a lexicon older than any human language. It was a translation of the cosmos’ heartbeat, revealing secrets hidden in the spaces between stars.

As dawn broke over the observatory, Ravi fell silent. Malik played back the final recording: a lullaby of waves and pulses that spoke of creation’s first light and the promise of yet-to-come worlds. In that moment, humanity heard the universe’s voice—and it spoke in pulsars.