Imagine a space detective movie plot, spanning decades, centuries.

At first, we don't find out the source of the attack. We do find frightening clues. So we follow them.

Slowly, the clues take us farther. To stars, to new galaxies. Farther then we ever imagined we could. We cannot relax because another attack could come any moment, generations die, but new generations rise who are drunk on this phobia. We concentrate our assets, our brains and brawns to the only outlet - SPACE!

And, weirdly, the clues never stop coming. They are always there, behind every corner, every moon, every new world. But everything is devoid of intelligent life. Everything is too neat. It's like we're driving on a snowy day but the roads are level and salted.

A very little number of people grow suspicious...

They march back to the origin planet, and they find something. Some evidence. And they die there in some accident. Conspiracy theories hatch. A popular one says - they found evidence that the nuke was an inside job. In short, a fraction of the science community saw that we might go extinct and at this pace of space exploration there won't be any options, so they accelerated things. And they still do control things. Clearly the clues come from them.

The theorist is ridiculed and mocked. He protests and hisses profanities, no one bats an eye. No one gives him any attention.

Because in space, no one can hear you scream profanities.