Theme-Thology: Invasion

by Inc. HDWP

  I was slowly aware of an increasing need to stand up. I resisted standing and continued to sit. Finally I could resist no longer, and slowly unfolded my legs. I stood before the companion holding the object. There was nothing else in my experience with which to compare it. I wanted to call it a phone, but there was nothing about it that resembled a phone nor any other communication device. It was a phone. I knew it with certainty, with an absoluteness that was complete.

  We stood before each other for a short time and then my companion pointed to the ridge and took a few steps into the vegetation. I wanted to follow so I took a single step in the same direction. I watched as it slowly headed up the hill, the sensation to follow growing stronger the greater the distance. A few more steps toward the ridge and a sensation of satisfaction, of rightness enveloped me. We quickly scurried up the hill to the ridge and down the backbone of the hills.

  For some time we traveled along the ridge until below us was one of the communities. Still holding the object, I started to retrieve my imager. It was right there in my pocket, but my hand could not seem to pull it out.

  Slowly I was aware of how I was being manipulated, but was not bothered by that little fact. It was just another event in my existence. I didn’t mind being controlled. My awareness passed from thinking, to merely experiencing events. The need to continue holding the object and follow my guide was complete.

  Down we went. Into what had the appearance of a village. It was familiar, yet I knew I had never visited this place. There were structures, not exactly buildings or huts, scattered in a pattern I could not recognize. The pathway had no paving. It was a mossy vegetation that was gently yielding with each footfall. I sensed residents beyond my sight, busy with the matters of their day. We followed the path, weaving around buildings for quite some time in silence.

  As we walked on it began to feel like home. I looked back and noticed we had some followers. We were 4 then 7 and finally a group of 10 when my guide finally stopped in a structure free open space.

  Surrounding us were brightly colored plants. The rainbow pattern of the plants was not like the one of home, but it made sense nonetheless. There were tall leafy trees with spreading canopies. It was all so perfect it seemed artificial. We turned toward a small dais in a well shaded corner of the open space. To my left the hues shifted as I watched from turquoise to a robin’s egg blue to a bright sapphire. To the right was a rich tapestry pattern that varied from a soft green to a bold yellow.

  I knew I was to sit before them on a small dais and did so, folding myself into the familiar lotus position. The others positioned themselves on the ground and we all sat. In silence, not even a rustle. I was thankful for all my years of meditation as never before. I was aware of the others, I could feel they were with me, but not a sound was made. Not one voice was to be heard, not even my own as I gently hummed my mantra. The community was there, close by, but I was only aware of the 9 companions in the open space before me. The shadows moved from one side of the playa to the other and my guide and the other companions arose in silence. I slowly unfolded, my body complaining a bit, but I never made a grimace or groan for the others to hear. We slowly returned the way we arrived, the others taking separate paths back into the community.

  Up the hill and back across the ridge we traveled. The shadows and light disappeared to be replaced by darkness. On we walked at a steady pace with a pathway that was always clear. Once I had been returned to my ship I was alone, my guide slipping off into the darkness. Interestingly I had more energy now than when the day had begun, and the return to familiar surroundings was yet more refreshing. I found myself still holding the object with a firm curl to my fingers, cradling it like a large delicate egg. It was time to record a report. As I started to review what had occurred, my thoughts were filled with the events of the day. There were details that I could not really pin down as real so I omitted them as I put the report together. I went directly to sleep, still clutching the object.

  Reflections

  I awoke quite refreshed, ready for another day of routine evaluations. Before I could begin it was most imperative for me to place the object that I had grasped so gently and firmly for so long. I cleared a spot where I could watch it at all times. A sigh of relief escaped once I was no longer holding the object.

  Suddenly I was ravenous, a hunger reaching to my bare essence. I reached over to prepare my meal when I noticed a variety of vegetation had been placed with my normal food. It had an appearance somewhere between berries and melons. The urge to slice it into a bowl was strong and I did so. Cautiously nibbling at each of them they were soon gone, the flavors were so superb.

  The next few days my routine was normal. All of my testing thus far had produced an image of a perfect place. The air was composed of all the right bits in the right amounts and was always fresh. Rains had come and gone, slow and soft at times. Sometimes strong and fiercely driven by strong winds. The streams in my valley, and others I could observe, never went wild. There were signs of high flows, but no washouts on the embankments suggesting torrents. Torrents just like one might expect after a four inch rainstorm. I could report this because the rain fell 12 hours, and registered somewhat over 4 inches but not one creek or stream rose significantly. The next day the sky was bright and the clouds were gentle and the stream was as before, with the same vegetation, and no evidence of serious rainfall.

  My daily routine was easy and I occasionally just drifted off without warning into old memories. I had just gone out to gather more samples when I found myself in a different place. It was a day when we had climbed to the pinnacle of a treeless mountain. Looking far down the mountain was a dry lake in the hidden valley where I had spent a year. I looked up and around at the majestic panorama, breathing in the beauty.

  The blueness of a cool sunny sky.

  The gentle whistle of the breeze between the rocks.

  The sparseness of the flower at my feet.

  Large pink petals, thin vegetation barely visible in the rocky soil. I was at home.

  Then it faded, and I was back in my sleeping sling. An entire day had vanished. I had a few more of these homesick episodes, as I called them. In all my time doing planetary reviews, I had never before remembered the home years. I don’t know what it was that was different here. All of the work had the same attraction, but daydreams became more frequent. The work was completed as scheduled, reports were filed and the planet became more promising with every day. It was like someone else had been on task.

  As the days passed I found myself thinking of other planets I had surveyed. The one I called a green orb came vividly to mind. It was a world without extremes, much like where I was now. There were no polar icecaps and the environment was somehow well moderated. The peaks of mountains, when there was snow, had a greenish cast to them best describe as an emerald green on cloudless days. When I went to examine this oddity it was pure water snow.

  It turned out the middle reaches of the atmosphere were filled with what seemed to be tiny bits of algae. It was a non aware life form, seemingly unrelated to any of the surface life. I suddenly recalled the many kinds of growing things. It was a place of variety and not all of it could be called vegetation. Likewise none could be called animal life. It was alive in a way outside of our understanding.

  I carried on with my routines. I spent the days gathering samples, analyzing, reporting. Soon it would be time to return home. I had 5 planets to report on and the only way they could be timely would be direct delivery. Whereas Ms Forte’ had designed a great set of engines that could use anything as reaction mass, no amount of power could send an FTL message or use the spacefold to deliver a small packet. Spacefold systems were still large and the return home was several folds distant.

  Transition

  I was home again. It was real to me. Clear, sharp and tight. And 6 years realtime ago.

  The sound of traffic bleating and blaring. The cacophony that is a city, crying and contrary. The sweltering sky with sulfu
rous air stinging my sinuses. My eyes were burning as I relived a summer day in Houston between missions. It had been 5 years since my last trip home and the ship needed a refit.

  There was a knock at the door and Bob entered our quarters with a packet of steaks for dinner. He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled a beer. There was a snap hiss as he broke the seal and had a long swallow. My life’s companion just dropped himself comfortably on the sofa.

  “Hey dude,” I said,” it’s been awhile.”

  “Yeah, I almost forgot you had an affinity for Aussie brews. Thanks, this hits the spot just right.”

  “I’m sure it does. The reports have the pollution levels high and the heat at record levels.”

  “Oh, it is more than bad out there,” said Bob. “The sun was so hot against the pavement it felt like my shoes were melting into the pavement. I’m glad this place is close to the transitway.”

  “Why do we do this?” I asked. “Why do we bother returning to the survey at all after each mission cycle? It is always the same, survey, deliver report on a planet and learn that more people dying every day from the poisons in the air. Why not just pick a place we’ve been and meet up there to live out our days in comfort?

  The environment is more extreme every year. The air hasn’t been acceptable around the cities for years. They tell me forests in the mountains have taken a toll and are continuing to die from the effects of some chemplant explosion last year. There is a good chance they may never recover according to the experts. A good chance.”

  “Yeah,” came the response. “Now it’s worse. I honestly don’t know how much longer the people can continue without moving in to a closed habitat system. Like the gerbils we kept as kids.”

  “Oh?” I responded, “Silent gerbils. In all my days I never thought that.”

  “The word is they have finally come up with a stasis chamber that can manage the sleepers by the dozens. There is a production plan and confidence is high the population can be moved.”

  “Bob, you sound like a bean counter for the program,” I commented. “You know as well as I do there have not been enough good finds in the surveys. A few, but not enough. We need to find an Eden, or a dozen.”

  Preparations

  I turned around and saw an observer. I shook my head, wondering how I was here, when moments ago I was talking with Bob. The local resident was there in front of me, quietly still, waiting. I strolled over and picked up the object holding it firmly as I walked back. I gestured for him to follow me into my ship. I carefully placed the object in a niche near the control center and started down a passage. We would take a few steps and I would open a door to a compartment filled with stored goods and enumerate them all. It was a preflight inspection with the observer standing by. Oddly it seemed right, but I had no idea why.

  As I worked my way inch by inch through the vessel I kept mumbling about the purpose and condition of each item. I dug into compartments I never considered on a routine inspection, as well as the familiar ones. “Yeah,” I thought to myself, “it’s time to wrap the survey and head out.”

  I came to the engine control systems. The Forte’ engines were sealed boxes that we were not able to open. Supposedly. Having been with this vessel for over a decade now, I had collected the right toolset and proceeded to do a full inspection.

  All through the inspection I could feel the closeness of the observer. Panel by panel, drawer by drawer, card by card. Not a spring nor a valve was excluded. The observer only stood by. Never in my way and not a sound no matter which way I moved.

  All that was needed for departure was reaction mass. The engine system was quite simply omnivorous. Pretty much anything that was to be had would convert to energy. Some materials were more efficient, but even the bulkheads that separated the ship could be broken to provide energy for travel.

  After the inspection I filled the storage with reaction mass and went back to my routine of silent work and daily observations. The urge to move to my next assignment grew steadily. Carefully preparing all of my tools and equipment, I packed them for the journey home. I stood in the doorway of my ship looking to see what may need attention.

  “Tell me what you have done here.”

  I jumped and nearly wet myself as a voice spoke to me perfectly. It was the first observer, just a few feet from me, speaking to me. Speaking. In all of the weeks I had been here, nothing other than the quiet sounds of movement had come from the observer or any of the other companions. Not a grunt, cough, sneeze or belch had I heard. Nothing, and suddenly it was as though the evening news was on. A quiet voice, precise in tone and accent.

  “Please,” he said. “you have been patient with us, and we with you. You have come here and observed, so we observed you.”

  “Can you please explain what all of this is?” it continued. “We sense you are preparing to leave and the time for active observation is now. Before you leave, can you please explain what you have done?”

  I lurched to a chair nearby, the only chair I knew of on the planet.

  Act 2

  I had questions bubbling like a new Artesian well. This went far beyond the norm for a first contact. Many of my surveys involved some level of communication, but never speech. I was at a loss. What is my approach?

  After a few stunned moments I looked over at the observer.

  “Ok you can talk to me, in my language, as though you had been doing so all your life. Your query is rather a shock to me, but nothing compared to the mere fact you speak and I understand. Why did you wait so long to speak? How did you learn to speak so well?” I said to my companion.

  “We waited for the time to talk. It was our desire to see you in your natural state. It was necessary to see you with your daily tasks as you do them,” came the answer.

  “To us speaking, as you call it, is easy. We observed. You spoke while busy. You spoke when relaxing. You spoke during your sleeping time.”

  “Please explain why it is what you do.”

  In all of my protocol training I don’t recall any discussion about such a direct inquiry. We knew something about protecting ourselves. Something about securing information. How to bail off a planet in less than 5 minutes. Nothing about how to answer “Whatcha doin’?” from the locals.

  I stood up and carefully wandered back out to what was left of my compound. “I guess the best I can say is my job is to collect information and share it with others.” I found I was sweating and very uncomfortable about this.

  “I share the information with others where I come from. They evaluate it and plan for the future of my kind.” I hoped this was enough and the observer would not press too much. In the back of my mind I felt compelled to say more. To walk over and pick up the object again.

  I resisted.

  The observer left in silence while my back was turned. All I could think of was holding the object. The soothing fragrance. The warmth. It all cried out comfort to me. I turned realizing I heard the rustling of vegetation. My companion was gone and the object was all I could focus on.

  I started for my sleeping sling and tried to pass the object. I just had to touch it. I reached out, felt it’s warmth again, a familiar feeling. My hand automatically closed on it and I found myself cradling it again. It was like a warm hug from my mother. I never had a mother in my life, but, yes, it felt like a warm motherly hug

  I relaxed and a huge sigh escaped my body. It was calming. I was in comfort.

  I slipped into my sling and cradled the object with both hands on my chest. It resonated quietly with every heartbeat. My mind drifted to memories of my childhood.

  Beginning

  I was by a stream with my friends. We were 10 years old and standing in the meadow with sticks and strings and bits of meat.

  “Over there,” Bob said, pointing at a steep bit of a cut in the stream bank. “If we lean over under the tree shade we can dip and not be seen.”

  We wiggled ourselves down along the bank and tied the meat bits to the strings and d
ipped them to the water and waited. We chattered quietly about important kid stuff and had fun. There was a tug on my string. I gently and firmly pulled it up. After a few seconds I was rewarded with a crustacean. We called them little lobsters knowing they were not really.

  After a few minutes we each had one on the grassy bank stumbling around. Bob scooted off to get the plastic shoebox and dipped it in the water. Splish splash went our catches as we gave them a bath. It was a joy to look at them and watch as they crawled over each other looking for an escape. The rest of the meat bits were dropped in and one took the time to disassemble a bit and eat it.

  The shadows got long and it was time for home, so with a splash they were all returned to the same spot along with the bits as payment for the time they spent with us. I remember the stream, the tree and young Bob with great detail. These were the forming events of my future.

  Some days we would wander to another spot and dig for clams. They were never very big, but it was a challenge to find them. Plop, plop into the shoebox they went. The water was always drawn from the right place and crystal clear. We would wait until the water was still and watch for the shell to open. It was so awesome to watch as the clams parts would slowly extend beyond the edge of the shell. Eventually they too were returned, always inserted back into the mud.

  * * *

  I awoke in my sling when the sky became bright and found myself refreshed like no other time since I arrived. My hands were still cradling the object to my chest. I looked for the presence of my observer but it was not in sight. I knew the presence of something. Someone. Yes, someone was with me. As the time for departure grew closer I took to securing the ship. I had no desire to come out of stasis and discover the ship was host to a colony or ten of the smaller residents of the planet I had taken to calling ‘Eden.’

  I palmed open the ship and headed down the passageway to clean myself and put on a fresh garment. It was time to tidy up and wipe the dust as insurance that nothing would slip into odd places during the zero-G of travel home. While I was doing so, the object was in the niche and vibrating ever so gently. I became aware of this when I picked it up to clean the resting place. I had never noticed it vibrating like this before.