“Could we leave human beings alone for twenty or fifty Earth-years? Perhaps. But we cannot take the risk that when the time comes to return, we find ourselves unable to do so—or that we are unable to amass the resources necessary to do so effectively. If we are unable to return to Earth for even longer—two or three hundred years, for example—it might be far too late. That is a risk we are not authorized to take.
“For that same reason, Kilmer, we are also unable to solve this problem by signing a peace treaty, or an agreement that allows us to limit and monitor your military capabilities. The agreement could unravel at a time when we cannot seek redress. We have to act now, or we might act too late.”
No wiggle room at all. And no other options.
Another dead end.
“You said Citadel has done this on other planets. Has anyone ever convinced you to change your decision?”
“Citadel has had six such encounters in the past, and each time, we invited an ambassador to speak on behalf of their species. But we have never had to change our minds. It is a testament to how carefully we conduct our evaluations.”
“And, compared to these other six, how strong does Citadel consider the case against human beings to be? Are we as threatening as the rest?”
There was a pause before Archidamus answered.
“I am afraid the case against humanity is far more damning than it was against the others. As I said before, what makes human beings exceptional also makes them exceptionally threatening.”
Kilmer took a deep breath. The more he learned, the more hopeless the situation appeared.
Don’t dwell on it. Just keep going.
“Why did you ask for two representatives? You asked for me and for a leader of Earth.”
“We must eventually speak to both. Once our discussion with the ambassador confirms that a civilization must be eliminated, we then speak to the leader of the planet—or to someone who represents one of its dominant tribes. We educate the leader on what we plan to do and ask for their advice on how to do it least painfully for the planet’s inhabitants. The leader becomes a steward who ensures that matters are handled smoothly but has no power to debate or negotiate the outcome. In the case of Earth, and at this moment in human history, the leader would likely be the American president.”
“And if I convinced you not to destroy human civilization—what would happen next?”
“I do not see how any of the information you are now seeking will help you with the role you have been assigned, Kilmer, but I can answer whatever questions you have. Obviously, you would be setting a precedent if you changed our mind. But if it happened, we would issue an immediate halt to our plans for an attack. And we would have no right to keep you here, so we would send you back to your people—with our gratitude. The decision would be submitted to the appropriate regulatory bodies on Citadel, and that would end things—at least for a while. As a precaution, the decision not to attack would likely be revisited in the next Consent Period, which is eighty Earth-years from now. We would want to confirm that we did not make a mistake.”
“So, if you can be persuaded that our future intentions will be peaceful, it will buy us at least eighty years of survival. And maybe a lot more than that, if things go well for us in the next Consent Period. Is that right?”
“That is right. We cannot revisit our decision, except during a Consent Period. That is why we must be sure we are making the right decision. That is why we study things so carefully. That is why we invite an ambassador. That is why we follow strict policies in all stages of the process.”
“But your strict policies do not seem to prohibit you from answering any of my questions—or discussing topics that seem irrelevant to you.”
“My advice to you, Kilmer, is very simple: focus on what matters. Try to convince us, if possible, that Citadel has made a mistake. But I am not restricted from discussing other matters, if that is what you choose to do with your time. I have read the transcripts from the previous six times an ambassador was invited to persuade Citadel not to attack. You are spending much more of your time asking questions than any of them did—and that is your prerogative. But when this process comes to an end, we will make our judgment based only on our strict guidelines. The only thing that will matter is whether you have changed our minds, not how well you understand what we do or why we do it. I would keep that in mind.”
Kilmer nodded to himself.
“Thank you, Archidamus. I will surely keep your advice in mind. Although, I’m also having to keep in mind the fact that the other six ambassadors never managed to save their civilizations. In any case, I do have a few more questions, and I appreciate you answering them. I am curious about the strict guidelines on which you must base your ruling. What exactly are those guidelines?”
“We are tasked with assessing whether a threat might exist—and if so, whether and how it can be addressed. More specifically, however, the law dictates that our final decision must be made based on our answers to three precise questions:
Might human beings pose a threat to Citadel in the future?
Will deleting human civilization eliminate the threat?
Can we destroy human civilization without committing genocide?
“Only if the answer to all three questions is yes, are we authorized to attack. If you can convince us that humans do not pose a threat, then I hope peace between our planets will last much longer than eighty Earth-years. I would love to discover that it is possible for us to coexist peacefully with the people of Earth.”
“But you do not see that happening.”
“I am sorry, Kilmer, but the answer to all three questions is yes. And we cannot consider any other factors. You might find this comparison offensive, but to us, human beings look a lot like the Wanderers did thousands of years ago. Highly advanced and impressive in many ways, but always wanting more, even at tremendous expense to others. They, too, were explorers, but somehow never managed to explore without causing harm to those they met. They, too, behaved as if the strong have an intrinsic right to dominate the weak. And, just like human beings, their creativity gave them the ability to easily justify such behavior to themselves.”
“I wonder what the Wanderers would have said about Citadel,” Kilmer responded.
“Believe it or not, I wonder that myself,” Archidamus conceded.
“And yet you continue to believe they were evil—and that they deserved to be punished.”
“No, Kilmer. Only that they were dangerous—and they deserved to be stopped. I advised you earlier not to think in terms of right versus wrong. I say that because our decision criteria do not allow for those considerations. We will issue our judgment based solely on the answers to those three questions. If you can convince us that we are wrong about the threat human beings pose, we will certainly reevaluate. Do you still want to try to do that?”
Kilmer didn’t respond. Instead, he just closed his eyes.
He had hit yet another dead end. And to make matters worse, he couldn’t even be sure he was thinking clearly anymore. A growing feeling of despair was weighing on him. The darkness was disorienting. He had no idea what time it was. His body ached from sitting on a chair designed for aliens. His mind was exhausted from trying to keep track of the countless details Archidamus had provided. His spirit was almost shattered.
“I need a minute, Archidamus.”
“You can have more time if you need.”
I can’t convince them. Even if I can create doubt, it won’t be enough. So what am I doing here? Am I just going through the motions? Just delaying the inevitable so that I can feel like I tried my best? Have I?
Silla’s words came back to him.
I know you, Kilmer. You’ll find a way. Just—don’t you dare give up. Do you understand? No matter what.
He took a deep breath. Then he opened his eyes and looked out into the darkness, as if he could lock eyes with Archidamus by doing so. He forced a smile to his lips. It took more effort than he exp
ected.
The toughest races are only won on the last lap.
He was not going to give up. He would keep pushing until he solved the problem. Or until they pulled the trigger. Whichever came first. No more despair. No more frustration. No more anger. No more exhaustion.
Let’s try this again, Kilmer. Every problem wants to be solved—even the seemingly impossible ones. This is not a beast to be slayed; it’s a puzzle to be solved. It wants to be solved. It’s giving you clues. And it might give you more.
So… what do I still need to know?
Let’s start with the thing I’ve avoided asking.
“How exactly do you plan to destroy human civilization, Archidamus? I want the details.”
~ 95 ~
“It is not an easy task to eliminate a civilization, Kilmer, especially if you want its inhabitants to survive. This is why it took us a few Earth-centuries to develop the tools to do so—and millennia to perfect them. To eliminate a society’s military capability is not enough. We must do away with the technology, artifacts, physical structures, rituals, language, art—even the imagination—of civilization. It is the only way to allow a race to start anew.
It begins with an occupation, and it can be relatively bloodless. We make our intentions clear from the start—there is no deception and there are no false promises. There is simply a choice: accept what will take place or be subjected to war of the likes the planet has never imagined. There are always pockets of resistance, but they eventually give up or are defeated. No one is ever killed if they agree to our terms.
In the case of Earth, the first few years will be devoted to preparing for the transition. All electronic technology will be disabled. In the following years, machines of every kind will be collected and destroyed, and all digital and physical repositories of information will be wiped clean or incinerated. The same will be done to anything else that could testify to what humans did, achieved, or resembled over the last 12,000 years—no books, no servers, no photo albums, no art, no maps, no music. This might take up to ten Earth-years. Compliance will be incentivized, including individual and collective punishment for efforts to resist or undermine the effort.
Human populations will be relocated as needed and transitioned to a form of agricultural living. We will ensure that farming will be able to feed the entire population. Humans will be allowed to live in small huts and use simple tools, but there will be no electricity or other luxuries, such as goods made from any type of manufacturing or those that would require distant trade. A barter system will be instituted, and money will be eliminated from society. Cities will be evacuated and incinerated.
There are many other issues to address in such a transition, but only one that merits mention here. We must ensure that memories—ideas, information, knowledge, and stories—are not passed down to future generations by those who are alive today. When we first tackled this problem, thousands of Earth-years ago, our occupation had to last three or four lifespans for us to get this right. Draconian measures were instituted to ensure that memories were not discussed or transmitted to descendants. Think of how extremely repressive regimes on Earth, such as North Korea, might solve this problem. Now imagine a similarly brutal but much more effective campaign. If we had to do that on Earth, we would need 150 to 250 Earth-years to ensure that memory itself was deleted from human societies. What was left in memory, if anything, would be indistinguishable from mythology—like humans today might talk about Hindu or Greek gods.
But we now have tools that are much less harsh and much more effective. We are capable of targeting and erasing memories very efficiently, much like humans might do on a digital storage device. There are relatively few ways to store and organize information, even when it comes to complex data such as memories. Data structures can vary, but the organization, recall, and deletion of memory is not so complicated, conceptually, even in organic storage devices such as the human brain. We have spent many millennia perfecting the technology that allows us to identify memories—and delete them—efficiently and at scale.
We will delete everything related to human civilization, and to our time on Earth. Nothing that interferes with basic human functions or relationships will be deleted. Cognitive ability will remain, but what has been learned in specific domains, such as mathematics and science and history, will be wiped out. All of this can be done in less than ten years, and it is painless, so long as people do not try to resist.
Altogether, we should be able to finish the entire transition in less than twenty Earth-years. After that, we will maintain a small and unseen presence, for one additional human generation, to monitor how things unfold. If no issues arise, we will depart entirely. Earth will be allowed to chart its own course. Human beings will be allowed to start again and create something new.
We have every reason to believe, Kilmer, that human history will unfold differently the next time. That has been our experience with the other civilizations that we have reset. We have come to understand that civilizations do not become like the Wanderers because they are evil, or somehow predestined. Chance plays a role in how things unfold. Civilizations are complex systems, and their emergent characteristics are highly sensitive to initial conditions and events. Positive feedback loops perpetuate and strengthen societal tendencies and cultural traits that might have never existed had the dice rolled differently at the start, or if certain events and eras had not unfolded as they did. That is our hope for Earth. That is our wish for all of you.
I hope this answers your question. I have tried to be comprehensive without getting too deep into the details.
I will not ask you how you feel about what I have said, because I can predict your reaction. You are horrified. You are angry. And you are scared. All of that is to be expected. But you must try to remember, the alternative for your planet would have been the immediate and total annihilation of your species. This is far, far better, in ways that you are probably not even considering yet.
I will not pretend that we are motivated by goodwill toward human beings. No, we are doing this because of our needs. Nonetheless, in taking these actions, we will be giving humanity a second chance that it should have given itself. Most of what is good will survive. Much of what is bad will be eliminated. Partners will continue to know and love each other and their children. They will be able to eat and play and build small communities. They might even be happier in their new, natural environments, than they are in their crime-ridden, poverty-ridden, and stress-ridden cities where they have no time for themselves or their family, no sense of belonging or security. The reset will also put an end to war, poverty, and famine as it currently exists on Earth. We won’t just take away weapons, we will erase all specific memories and beliefs regarding hate, grievance, and fear aimed at other groups. There will be no memory of any social constructions that have divided human beings. Some things humans seem to cherish might be lost along the way. For example, religions and national identities will be washed away. That will be hard for many of your fellow human beings to accept, at first.
Then again, if your gods truly exist, I am sure they will return—no matter what we do.
I am not trying to convince you that human beings should welcome the steps we are about to take. I would not want it done to Citadel. But it is not as bad as it seems. The current generation of human beings will mourn what they are about to lose, but future generations will have no memory of what they lost, and they might be better off with the future we give them than the future their own ancestors had planned for them.
Ask yourself, Kilmer. Do you really think human beings can avoid another great war among the nations of Earth? For how long? Will it really destroy less than what we will destroy? Will it provide any of the accompanying benefits? Think of the condition your planet is in. We have seen the state of your natural environment and your inability to protect it. Think of the passion with which large swaths of your species are embracing and encouraging tribalism and ignorance, even as these forces r
ip your societies apart. It is not why we are here, but we might end up saving humanity from itself.
You will still be horrified, angry, and afraid. It is still a tragic situation. But it is better than the alternative of annihilation. And strange as it might sound, it is probably better for humans than the alternative of leaving Earth alone. It is certainly better for all other species on Earth.
In any case, you have no choice. Maybe that is for the best.”
~ 96 ~
Heirs of Herodotus by D. Kilmer.
Excerpt from Chapter 5.
If there was a prize for the most unapologetic speech to ever extol the privileges of power, it would go to the Athenians for what they said to the Melians during the Melian Dialogue, a historic “negotiation” that occurred just before they lay siege to the island of Melos.
“…we shall not trouble you with specious pretenses—either of how we have a right to our empire … or are now attacking you because of wrong that you have done us—and make a long speech which would not be believed. And in return we hope that you, instead of thinking to influence us by saying that you … have done us no wrong, will aim at what is feasible … since you know, as well as we do, that right, as the world goes, is only in question between equals in power, while the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must. … Of the gods we believe, and of men we know, that by a necessary law of their nature, they rule wherever they can. And it is not as if we were the first to make this law, or to act upon it when made. We found it existing before us and shall leave it to exist forever after us. All we do is make use of it, knowing that you and everybody else, having the same power as we have, would do the same as we do.”
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