A Criminal Astrophysics Manual

Or How to Build a Crime Syndicate by Following Stephen Hawking’s Advice

By Glênio S Guedes ( lawyer in Brazil )

“If aliens ever visit us, the outcome may resemble the arrival of Columbus in the Americas. It didn’t go well for the natives.”— Stephen Hawking, physicist, prophet, and part-time Latin American political analyst.

Welcome to the Americas, that corner of the galaxy where absurdity is not a symptom but an economic policy. Here, reality doesn’t just outpace fiction—it kidnaps it, demands ransom, and sells the rights to Netflix.

Which brings us to the only logical question of our time: Have organized crime groups been reading Stephen Hawking?

It started with a comet—3I/ATLAS—named like a vitamin supplement. A homeless traveler from outside the solar system, passing by to remind us that the universe, like our governments, operates mostly on autopilot. Scientists, apparently bored with climate change and war, revived Hawking’s Dark Forest Hypothesis: the idea that the universe is full of civilizations hiding in silence, terrified that making noise will attract something bigger and hungrier. In other words: in the cosmos, as in politics, whoever speaks first dies.

The Science of Silence

Across Latin America, silence has evolved into a high art form. The cartels, the militias, the faceless boards of corruption—all of them have mastered the astrophysics of discretion. They expand quietly, colonize efficiently, and communicate only in whispers or encrypted emojis.

Meanwhile, the governments are out there waving flashlights into the void: press conferences, national plans, televised “operations. ”The universe yawns. Stephen Hawking would call it “a cosmic suicide note.”

We, of course, call it Tuesday.

The Comet and the Slum

The comet 3I/ATLAS drifts behind the Sun, elegantly avoiding attention. So do our criminal enterprises. Neither leaves a trace; both follow trajectories calculated by destiny or corruption—whichever comes first.

Astronomers wonder if the comet is artificial. Citizens wonder the same about their institutions. In both cases, the conclusion is similar: Yes, artificial. And badly programmed.

The NASA looks up. We look down. Somewhere between their telescopes and our potholes, truth evaporates.

From Cosmology to Politics

If Stephen Hawking had been born in Bogotá, São Paulo, or Queens, he would have written A Manual of Criminal Astrophysics long ago. He’d have explained that power obeys the same physics as gravity: the heavier it gets, the more it bends morality around it. Black holes aren’t just in space—they hold congressional seats.

Crime, meanwhile, studies quietly. It understands Newton, Einstein, and the Ministry of Finance. It knows that every action has a reaction, and usually a contract behind it. It knows how to move in darkness, how to orbit legality without burning up.

And somewhere far to the north, Trump is speaking again. Each sentence of his confirms the astrophysicists were right : the universe is indeed expanding.

Epilogue from the Milky Way

When comet 3I/ATLAS finally drifts away, NASA will issue a statement: “A fascinating phenomenon.” Down here, we’ll issue one too: “A normal day.” Because in the Western Hemisphere, every cosmic event eventually becomes an administrative failure.

Maybe, light-years away, a more intelligent civilization will read about us and choose eternal silence—not out of fear, but embarrassment.

If the cosmos learns anything from the Americas, it’s this : the danger doesn’t come from the void; it comes from the noise. And here, between sirens, speeches, and election jingles,noise is not an accident. It’s governance.

In the universe—as in the neighborhood—those who stay quiet survive. Everyone else ends up in the headlines.