Astromilio Nomadism

In the current era, with mass universalisation sweeping across the cosmos, many Astromillio have become naturally nomadic. They now appear in every galaxy, far beyond the one their ancestors may have called home. This movement hasn’t happened by chance. A range of causes has driven universalisation into everyday life: the quiet collapse of interdimensional rent control laws, the rise of holo-influencers romanticising “van galaxy living”, and the sudden banning of zorp crystals on Planet 9, which triggered a swift and chaotic exodus. To complicate things further, a poorly worded UNIVERSAL FREE TRAVEL policy remains in effect, largely because no one has figured out how to repeal it.

Although rare, there are many planets or systems that still hold their native populations such as Gambleriano, Asgardio, Mag Mellio or Catio.

Contributing Factors

Other factors have made the situation worse. Micro-portal scooters, though banned in most dimensions, remain popular and difficult to regulate. Timewave congestion continues to reroute beings into alternate timelines, supposedly to improve efficiency. The popularity of dating apps tailored to cosmic wanderers, such as Wormhole and Tender Species, have become cultural phenomena. Many Astromillio, especially younger ones, believe that staying in one location for too long can lead to quantum stagnation and what they refer to as “bad vibes”.

Historical Displacement

Beneath all of this lies a much older truth. Many home planets and systems have, over time, been destroyed or depleted by colonialist nations. These powers drained planetary resources and left native populations with nothing but the wreckage. They often arrived cloaked in language like “civilisational uplift initiatives” or “quantum harmony campaigns”, bringing with them abstract bureaucracy, confusing fiscal systems, and infrastructure projects that seemed to erase the natural flow of reality itself.

Native Astromillio cultures were displaced by off-world managerial species, who arrived equipped with weapons, or worse, with PowerPoint presentations and multidimensional spreadsheets. They redrew astral borders based on resource allocations and imperial ambitions. Ecosystems were transformed into private resorts for celestial aristocrats, while sacred ley lines were sold off to hedge-wizards looking to make speculative investments in unstable timelines. Some planets had their cores extracted, either to fuel luxury star yachts or to power interstellar espresso machines, leaving behind hollow worlds filled with collapsed histories and fragmented timelines.

Present Colonial Dynamics

Even now, the colonial powers claim to be “post-resource”, yet their ships still hover in orbit. They issue unsolicited wellness audits and distribute treaties written in lowercase font, soft and unthreatening by design. Attempts to reclaim identity and land have emerged through ritual, resistance, and ambient noise warfare, but the damage caused by centuries of extractive interference is difficult to undo.

Nomadism as Practice

As a result, many Astromillio now drift across the stars in search of new meaning, shared memes, and perhaps a planet where rent doesn’t cost five ancestral relics and a soul tax. Among the younger generations, nomadism has become something aspirational. It’s seen as a fluid way of being, one that resists attachment to fixed points in space. Others, however, still mourn what was lost. Home worlds have become commercial zones, transformed into souvenir shops and sanitised parks with branded nostalgia.

Yet even in dispersion, there are still threads that hold the different Astromillio native cultures together. Encrypted telepathic group chats, glitchy galactic radio broadcasts, and chaotic memes with no discernible point of origin continue to pass between them. These shared fragments act as anchors, however fragile they may be.

Cultural Impact

The material effects of universalisation have not been limited to culture alone. They are etched into the structure of the universe itself. Cosmic tourism has led to star inflation. What once cost a reasonable sum to rent for a weekend now requires serious backing. A binary system is a luxury few can afford. Wormhole cuisine, once diverse and regional, has become dominated by Intergalactic Fusion Tapas, bland and homogenised. Entire dialects once spoken on remote asteroids have vanished, replaced by the corporate efficiency of Universal GlyphSpeak 3.4.7. Moons have been converted into AI-managed shopping plazas, many of which remain half-constructed. Planetary cores, once sacred, have been repurposed into minimalist performance art venues by Avalonian collectives.

Generational Perspectives

Reactions to all of this vary, especially across generations. Those who remember the so-called Pre-Port Era often speak of space as something you could once feel. They mourn the loss of time zones that once had meaning, and complain that reality became flatter and lost texture after regional dimensional customs were erased. They still refer to Earth as “that noise planet”, and many believe teleportation robbed the universe of long-haul storytelling, where the journey mattered as much as the destination.

Younger Astromillios, meanwhile, struggle to imagine a world without multi-orbital avatars. To them, local tradition often means downloading a cultural .zip file from an NFT archive. They assume Wi-Frequency exists on every planet. Many collect vintage items such as manual eyeballs and two-dimensional objects, and rely on emotional support thingys to feel any sense of grounding. Their identities are experimental, fluid, and often temporary. Some describe themselves as “temporally nomadic”, others as “species-fluid for the vibes”.

Through it all, amid the noise, displacement, and timeline interference, one fact remains: no one truly knows where they’re from anymore. But everyone, somehow, has a cousin on Saturn.