This curiosity seems to be core to our humanity. If we’re the only living thing in existence, this is an amazing universe. And it’s also an amazing universe if we’re among biological multitudes. We naturally want to know which version of amazing this universe is.

We’ve engaged in lots of pursuits to figure this out, and as science and technology have improved so have the prospects. When I first started teaching astronomy, we weren’t even sure how prevalent planets around other stars might be. Now we understand that planets are especially common and diverse.

K2-18b is one of those planets orbiting another star, this one relatively nearby in our galaxy, “only” 124 lightyears away. That is, the light we get from this system has traveled for 124 years. Ridiculously distant on human scales, this is astronomically nearby in a galaxy that spans around 100,000 lightyears.

Using dim light and sharp analysis now available via the James Webb Space Telescope, astronomers report unique fingerprints within rainbows that should emanate from molecules known as sulfides. Here on Earth, some specific sulfides are only produced by marine life. So, it’s justifiable to suggest that maybe we’re witnessing the biology of a distant world.

Of course, it isn’t so straightforward. The measurement itself is difficult and prone to scrutiny. We should consider other ways sulfides could get compounded. We should check our work and look for other evidence. But for now this finding is likely keeping some astronomers up at night for the right reasons.

If there’s life on a planet only 100 lightyears away, our chances of meeting one another are ridiculously slim; but if this spacing of biology proves consistent, then our galaxy is likely hyper-infected, teeming with life. We’re probably not alone, even within our own interstellar island. A lot of it is probably very different from what we think of as life. And, likely a lot of it is familiar, too. After all, the trace evidence we’re looking for is based on what we already know.

An astounding feature of all this is that it’s really, really, really quiet out there. We haven’t heard even a whisper from anyone or anything from beyond Earth, though we know from our own example that with the know-how it’s easy to transmit electromagnetic waves documenting our existence. This tells us that even if there’s a lot of living systems, they aren’t ripe with the technology that would be the result of science and engineering. We could be living in a universe where life might be prevalent but consciousness and intelligence are not. Even in a biologically crowded galaxy, we have no one else to talk to except for ourselves.

Why would that be? A good possibility is that while life persists, civilizations are improbable or short-lived. In the billions of years of the universe’s timespan, having a technological society for even a few thousand years would be a quick flash. The probability of our existence overlapping with the existence of something like us could be miniscule.

To me, the most noteworthy fact of our universe is not that it has planets or kittens or blue skies or sulfides, but that we’re here to witness it. The real finding in all of this is that we are present, sentient, curious, wondering, and for the most part able to put together the kind of accomplishment that enables us to be able to consider what exists outside of ourselves. We are rare witnesses.

I’m on my way out the door to explore desert regions of southern Utah, sparse and desiccated, but rich with microbes in soil crust and gnarled junipers anchored in sandstone crevices. But the miracle of it all is that I’ll be walking alongside empathetic humans, swapping stories, sharing food, wondering out loud about shiny three-leaved plants we find in a spring-fed canyon. This particular bit of life and living, collaboration and compassion, is perhaps so very rare that it will never happen again. I’m pausing to embrace a place and moment of a precious existence.

Adam Johnston is a professor of physics and director of the Center for Science and Mathematics Education at Weber State University, where he helps prepare future teachers and supports educators throughout Utah. This commentary is provided through a partnership with Weber State. The views expressed by the author do not necessarily represent the institutional values or positions of the university.