Parallel

by Anthony Vicino

  And so it was that mankind’s first word to an alien race was, “Gaeurgh?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ryol

  The harsh light burned Ryol’s sensitive eyes. She restructured her mind to cope with the new stimuli. Ryol reduced her photosensitivity and the world dimmed. The searing pain behind her optic nerve ebbed. Then, she applied a portion of focus to restructuring parts of her chemical makeup to reduce the toxicity of the air.

  From the analysis she’d done prior to arrival, she knew there would not be many changes in that regard. Lenora and this planet were similar in the amount of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the air. The main adjustment she made was to accommodate the higher levels of nitrogen now entering her body.

  With that complete she directed the remainder of her attention towards language acquisition. Ryol had spent significant portions of energy studying what she’d seen of the planet during temporal viewing, but sound could not be transmitted through the viewer, and so she’d arrived without a clue as to this people’s language. Now, with eighty percent of her brain, and Aurora, now concentrated on communication, it wouldn’t take more than a few hours until she could speak with this new species.

  The creature across from her lifted its arms and grunted. Ryol had made first contact with hundreds of alien worlds, and the odd noises some species made upon meeting no longer surprised her. She assumed the noise blurted by the creature was gibberish born out of his surprise, but not wanting to appear rude, or possibly hostile, Ryol raised a hand in a similar fashion to the motionless individual across the room, and replied, “Gaeurgh?”

  The creature diverted its attention to a larger individual pressing itself flat against the wall. They shared a look that Ryol could not interpret. She suspected it was an expression of bewilderment, as was often the case during these sorts of encounters.

  The aliens spoke to one another. Ryol traced a finger in the air to make a recording. The portion of her brain concerned with language tore into the file, learning everything possible from the phrase, “Is she mocking me?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hari

  “Mocking you? No, I’m sure she’d nev—” Gerald pointed a trembling finger at the alien woman. “Is that sign language?”

  Hari turned and ogled like a child in front of a television as she made shapes in the air with her hand. “Perhaps she’s a little…slow?”

  “Why would they send a slow ambassador?” Gerald asked.

  “Maybe she’s not an ambassador at all. Maybe she accidentally fell through whatever wormhole we created.”

  “You created,” Gerald said, duly assigning blame. “And I might point out that she doesn’t seem particularly alarmed for an accident of that magnitude.”

  “True.” Hari scratched his chin. “So, we’re back to her being a slow ambassador?”

  “Again, why would they send a slow ambassador?”

  Hari shrugged. His bony shoulders touched his ears, giving him many visual similarities to a hat rack. “It’s possible they don’t think very highly of us.”

  “With deductive reasoning like this it’s no surprise.”

  Hari did not respond. Dealing with Gerald required too much energy. Instead, he stepped gingerly towards the alien, who he assumed would be easier to communicate with than his colleague.

  He watched the woman for signs that she might be startled, but she stared through him impassively with glazed eyes.

  Hari scrounged for any sign language that might be lying dormant in his brain. Of course there was none. He had taken French in high school. He cursed himself now, because even if this were a French alien, communication beyond asking “Where is the bathroom?” would be impossible.

  With a swoop and angling of the arm, Hari did his best to create, on the spot, his own form of sign language.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Gerald maintained his vigil across the room.

  “I’m trying to let her know we’re peaceful.”

  “Oh, well she’s a hell of a charades player if she figures that out.”

  “I don’t see you helping.”

  “I’m not sure you are, either.”

  “Well, why don’t you try something?”

  “You don’t need me. I’m sure you’re doing a fine job of confusing her on your own.”

  Hari ignored Gerald and resumed his gesticulations. “My name is Hari.” He spoke the words slowly, resisting the urge to bombard the woman with a stream of questions. Hari gestured towards his colleague, who’d placed his safety goggles back atop his head. “That is Gerald. What is your name?”

  The woman’s face remained a blank slate of marble. She gave no indication she had understood, much less heard, what Hari had said.

  Hari crossed his arms, placed one hand under his chin, and stroked the less than substantial amount of stubble that had accumulated over the past three weeks. Somehow, of all the outcomes he’d anticipated to come from this experiment, a tall blond non-English-speaking alien woman, wasn’t one of them.

  Such is the way of science.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Falia

  Falia stared at the flickering city below and listened to Mineal deliver her daily report with an inconsequential sliver of attention. Opalescent lights from the planet surface merged with the soft amber pinpricks offered by the stars above. They projected their shared luminosity on the black canvas of evening.

  Falia loved dusk. It came with a promise taken on trust. A simplicity lost long ago.

  “Ma’am, the engineers confirmed the low levels of Eitr you predicted. Projections indicate Lenora will use the last reserves in one hundred years and three years.” Mineal’s voice lacked any emotion.

  Falia turned from the night-scape. Placing the Graesians in quarantine had consumed an enormous quantity of Eitr, putting Lenora in imminent danger of collapse.

  That looming threat had absorbed much of Falia’s, and Aurora’s, attention for the past six hundred years. Producing Eitr artificially was incredibly inefficient. Lenoreans had mined entire galaxies just to prolong their existence a few hundred years.

  The edge of the cliff drew near. There was nothing more to be done.

  Falia knew a solution had been discovered in another Dimension. With an infinite number of Dimensions spawned every instant the probability was near certain. If only they could find one of those worlds in time.

  “Ryol reports first contact with the alien species of Planet XXV,” Mineal continued.

  Falia redirected more attention at the mention of Ryol’s name. It filled her with pride to know the survival of her people, her planet, rested in the hands of her daughter.

  Ryol had been born unremarkable, but in her short lifespan she had achieved more than the probabilities could have predicted.

  “Thank you, Mineal,” Falia said, holding up a hand to signal for Mineal to cease with the report. “Keep me apprised of Ryol’s findings. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must meet with First Engineer Chereal.

  The world slipped through the cracks as she closed her eye. Her body compressed into her naval before exploding out into billions of particles. Falia floated through the void that was neither light nor dark, before the pieces of her fragmented body called out to one another, and drew back together like a magnet raked across iron shavings.

  When she opened her eyes she stood in knee-deep snow. Thick snowflakes drifted through the air around her, coating her hair and clothing. A cold wind blew over the snowcapped hills to greet her, tugging at the loose corners of her robe.

  Ignoring the cold and ice, she released a deep breath that crystallized the air around her lips. A cabin, glowing from inside with a gentle amber light, beckoned to her.

  Chereal stood on the porch holding a steaming mug in either hand. His silent promise of warmth and shelter made Falia shiver and smile.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ryol

  Ryol had nearly unraveled the mystery of this alien language. Portions of attention no longer needed f
or the task were freed. She redistributed these bits of attention towards a search for Eitr she’d initiated upon entering this new dimension.

  The two aliens had not moved much since her arrival. Though, the creature responsible for opening the Rift was engaging in a futile attempt at communication. He inched closer, but his progress was slow, and after the equivalent of two Lenorean hours, he still remained halfway across the room.

  The creature had incorrectly assumed by Ryol’s twirling hand that she was trying to communicate with him. Now, he engaged in his own form of speech which included broad arm movements accompanied by long, drawn-out vocal utterances.

  Ryol had made two vital observations of these creatures. First, the aliens were of similar gender, male in the sense that the Lenoreans understood. And second, not a remarkable observation requiring penetrating insight, she noted the man spoke much slower when speaking to her than to his partner. From this second observation she concluded that despite having developed a means for opening Inter-Dimensional Gateways, this species was not particularly bright.

  Ryol’s analysis suggested this species had not yet developed the ability to compartmentalize their minds. The majority of alien species Ryol encountered during her travels lacked this ability. An oddly inefficient means of evolution, she noted. If communication were to take place, it would be dependent on her ability to decipher their language.

  Regardless, this species could not be classified as wholly inept if they had uncovered the truth behind Inter-Dimensional Travel. A world with that capability had typically harnessed the power of their solar system, a prerequisite for the enormous amounts of energy expended in ripping a hole through the dimensional fabric.

  Lost in these thoughts, Ryol was only vaguely conscious of the individual responsible for opening the gateway flapping his arms as if to take flight.

  Since Ryol could only guess at his meaning she ignored the alien’s attempt to communicate. Soon she would acquire understanding of their language, and then she would be ready to speak with them.

  An alarm chirped in Ryol’s head. Aurora had found something.

  Its rising screech cut a swath through all other thought processes, causing everything to momentarily pause. She recoiled from the sting of the sound, surprised by its intensity. Regaining her composure, she traced the alarm back to a high priority line of thought she’d started upon first arriving, a line of inquiry that’d been running through Aurora continuously for the better part of the last millennia.

  Six hundred years of scouring every possible dimension and she’d finally found it.

  The search was over.

  The alien cocked his head to the side in what Ryol had learned to be a nearly universal sign of confusion as an irresistible smile crept across her face.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hari

  A warmth spread through Hari’s brain like rainfall trickling across his forehead. “Is it just me or is she smiling?

  “It looks like a smile, but it could mean anything.”

  “What do you mean? It means she’s happy, right?” Hari rubbed his tingling scalp. “Also, are you feeling a bit more giddy than usual?”

  “Perhaps what we interpret as a smile is actually her baring her teeth before ripping out our entrails,” Gerald said. “And I don’t have time for feeling giddy, I may need to run.”

  Hari shot Gerald a look that blurred the lines between shock, horror, and pity. “You’re a paranoid little man, aren’t you?”

  “I have no reason not to be,” Gerald said, gesturing towards the alien in the corner.

  “I doubt she’s traveled…however far it is she’s traveled, just to disembowel us.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It seems like a terrible foreign policy.”

  “There’s no need to worry, I have not come for your entrails,” the alien said.

  Hari jumped back and released a squeak despite his better intentions.

  Gerald did not jump back, but he did squeak.

  “I am Ryol, Ambassador from the Planet Lenora.” She strode towards Hari with an off-putting surplus of grace. Her steps were so fluid she appeared to hover. Although he watched her legs carry her across the room, he reserved his doubts.

  The alien woman named Ryol stopped a foot shy of Hari. The muscles in his body tried turning to jelly, but he held them together through pure force of will. Determined to make a good impression during mankind’s first contact with an alien species, he denied his body’s request to faint.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were lost in the creature’s soft purple eyes.

  “Your name,” Gerald urged from the corner. “Tell her your name.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Hari said, breaking the trance. “I’m Hari.” He gestured towards himself and then blushed, realizing that pointing to himself might not be necessary at this point for the alien who’d recently learned English.. “And that’s my colleague, Gerald.” He pointed again.

  Gerald’s face went through an unusual color change. The older man’s typically ruddy cheeks flashed pale white before a fresh batch of blood rushed in, making the cheeks redder than Hari had ever seen before. Hari wondered if he had witnessed the man pass out, and come to, without falling. It was fairly plausible given the circumstances.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Hari and Gerald. I’m sorry if I frightened you. First contact can be tenuous.”

  Hari’s mind did a barrel roll. He had come to terms with the presence of another intelligent life form in the Universe, but this lady made it sound as if there were dozens, like it was no big deal.

  Maybe it wasn’t. His concept of the Universe expanded at a rate his brain could hardly keep pace with.

  Hari had the indescribable gut-sinking feeling that humans were no longer on top of the food chain. In fact, they might not even make the podium.

  “Oh, us? Don’t worry about us, we’re fine,” Hari said, waving his hands around in what he hoped would convey nonchalance, but in reality only made him more self-conscious. He looked down at his hands like he’d never seen the appendages before. Now, aware of their presence, he couldn’t think of a single thing to do with them.

  He crossed his arms, but quickly unfolded them, afraid of appearing stand-offish. Then he put one hand in his pocket while running the other through his hair, before realizing that might be a little too nonchalant for the occasion. All the while he felt Ryol studying him with that inescapable expression of grace and intelligence.

  Of course it would be a female alien. As if he weren’t awkward enough around human ladies. At that moment Hari became acutely aware that he was doing a miserable job representing the human race.

  At a loss for where to begin, and not wanting to be a bad host, Hari rallied and asked, “Would you like some tea?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Falia

  Falia sat across from the First Engineer, Chereal, and felt a sprig of pity for the man. “You understand what we must do?”

  Chereal sighed, the faint wisp of a smile etched across his cheeks. “We knew this day would come eventually.” He rubbed the palm of one hand against the back of the other, a nervous affectation Falia remembered the man having acquired when they were still young. Before the worries of the Universe had become their own. “I had hoped we’d find the answer in our lifetime,” he said.

  Falia wanted to reach across Chereal’s desk and touch his calloused hands. Wanted to feel the unique coarseness of his flesh against hers. But they were not children anymore. Hadn’t been for many years. That would never change, even with everything coming to an end.

  “As did I,” she said. It was the only consolation she could offer her old friend.

  “I cannot help but feel that we’ve failed.”

  “Only here,” Falia said, knowing her words would bring the man no comfort. She knew this because they brought her no comfort. “Somewhere, Chereal, we have succeeded.”

  “Small consolation.”

  “Agreed.�
� Falia nodded with a smile, knowing full well the effect it would have on the First Engineer. His posture slackened as tendrils of emotion radiated from her mind and crossed the gap to his. It wasn’t much, but it would ease the man’s mental anguish.

  Their failure was her burden to carry. Not his.

  “Please don’t, Faliana,” Chereal said, using a name few Lenoreans knew. “I’ve known you since you were a little girl determined to show the world she was the smartest and the strongest. Well, I concede that you are. In all the Dimensions, I would venture a guess that there are none quite like you.”

  Falia diverted a stream of attention to regulating her body’s parasympathetic feedback. She could not reveal her emotions to this man. Not anymore.

  “There is a time to be happy and a time to be sad,” Chereal said, rising from his chair. “You would allow me to feel the one, but deprive me of the other. If there were ever a time for sadness, I think this might be it.” He winked and took the empty seat beside Falia. “If ever there were a time to share the burden, this too, I think, might be it.” Chereal placed a heavy hand atop Falia’s.

  A pulse of emotion accompanied the touch. Chereal lacked the strength to make Falia feel something she did not wish to feel, but Falia lacked the strength to say no.

  “How long can the Temporal Freeze last?” Chereal asked, no longer evading the topic that had brought Falia across galaxies.

  “Seven hundred and sixty-three years.”

  “Ah, tis but a drop in the bucket,” Chereal said, quoting a line from the history books. Falia wondered if Aurora had given it to him. The computer spoke to him in ways unlike any other. His mind had bonded with Aurora’s in the way only a First Engineer could.

  “It’s more than a single drop, Chereal. For you, it’ll be a lifetime.”

  “But only a moment for you. For the others.”

  She sighed and looked through the open window beside Chereal’s desk. The snowflakes continued their onslaught of the countryside. “How long have you been out here alone?”