The United Nations chamber was unusually hushed, every delegate leaning forward as the UNICEF video flickered onto the massive screen.

It opened with footage from a remote Andean village — except the “child” at the center of the frame was unlike any seen before. Big, liquid eyes. Soft, silver skin. A thin, almost musical voice introducing himself in halting Spanish:

“Mi nombre es Marciano… no tengo familia.”

Felipe Coronel, seated in the back row with Joe Jukic, felt something in his chest tighten. Joe whispered, “Kid’s from another world… literally.”

Marciano’s story unfolded — his craft had crashed during a meteor storm. Local farmers found him wandering the high plains, frightened but curious. The villagers had cared for him as best they could, but without a guardian, he would soon be turned over to “international study programs.” That phrase made Felipe wince.

When the lights came up, Joe stood. “We’ll take him,” he announced to the stunned assembly.

The room erupted in murmurs. The UN Secretary-General raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Jukic… you understand this is unprecedented?”

Felipe stepped forward, voice steady. “So was the moon landing. This child doesn’t need experiments — he needs a family.”

The adoption ceremony happened in a small, sunlit UNICEF office. Marciano clung to Felipe’s arm and looked up at Joe with shy wonder. Joe knelt to eye level. “From now on, you’re home, buddy.”

Weeks later, UNICEF released a follow-up video. It showed Marciano laughing in a New York playground, chasing pigeons in Central Park, and eating his first slice of pizza (three slices, actually). The closing frame read:

“Every child — no matter where they’re from — deserves love.”

And somewhere in the background, Felipe and Joe walked side-by-side, Marciano between them, holding both their hands.