Humans Don't Hibernate [Part 42/?] (Patreon)

A disheartening realization quickly dawned on me. A feeling of foreboding disgust sent waves of nauseating discomfort that far surpassed what eeriness had been incurred by the otherworldly voice that had bellowed out from deep within the recesses of the moon we tentatively orbited.

It was a realization that was just as troubling as it was maddening, a logical conclusion that was drawn from this one, isolated interaction alone.

It was at this particular instance in time, as the interloper’s words faded into echoes, did I finally realize that I was experiencing something that countless trillions had lived, breathed, and died hoping to one day earn.

I was experiencing what could only be described as a chance to convene with what entire galaxies had seen and believed to be their gods. With generation upon generation having spent their entire lives wasting away on their knees, begging, pleading, and hoping just for a fraction of what we were now hearing in high-definition through the bridge’s speakers. A voice that was channeled not through some unseen ethereal force, but a cold and unsightly series of electrosensory nodes, complex mathematics, and unseemly amount of circuitry and relays, that all culminated on the bridge of a ship.

Just how much time did the entire galaxy spend on their knees praying to false gods that never bothered to respond? Or, even worse, were never truly able to listen in, in the first place? Just how many lives had been touched, how many families had been inducted into believing, and how many lifetimes had been consumed by a falsity that we were now entirely privy to?

Just how many people had lived and died, hoping and dreaming of an opportunity such as this?

It was ironic then, that the first interaction between a mere mortal and the self-proclaimed divine wasn’t a meeting that was taking place between a deity and their devotee; but instead, taking place between a prisoner and their interrogator.

A million and one questions had flooded my head at the being’s response. A response which was in equal parts as telling as it was borderline incomprehensible. Whilst there was a lack of addressable meaning to its words, and an incompleteness to its speech, it was still undeniably a strong start. What’s more, it was perhaps the greatest start any single sapient has ever had in the realm of interloper dialogue in ancestors knows how long.

I glanced back at Vir, gesturing for him to open up my line of the channel, as I intended to continue this pursuit to its logical conclusion.

“Everything. Everywhere. Every time. Eternal.” I parroted back. “Is that your name?” I asked simply.

There was no place here for pretenses or grandstanding. First contact, and interactions of this sort was almost always rather cut and dry. As a bridge needed to be formed before the conversation could proceed into more engaging territory.

No response.

Or rather, not an immediate verbal one at least.

As the brilliant displays of shifting color hues and gradients spoke for themselves, this conversation at least instigated more than a few emotions in the Interloper.

Though the emotions being interpreted did nothing to calm my nerves.

“Confidence, followed by panic, then relief, then calm. In that order.” Vir quickly surmised, acting as the unwitting interpreter of a being he so clearly harbored more than his fair share of resentment towards.

Then we waited, and waited, and continued this little game the interloper seemed to be so fond of.

However, unlike before, we eventually received a response without additional prompting.

“Truth. Seeking. Ebbs and flows and whispers and echoes. Reverberating. Forever.”

The room was once more bathed in that otherworldly, uncomfortable mesh of voices stacked atop of voices, and a warmth that radiated throughout it which just added to an unhealthy degree of cognitive dissonance. As what was supposed to be uncomfortable and disturbing seemed to be at odds with the overall intent of  delivery.

No sooner than the last of the echoes of the Interloper’s words trail off did Vir quickly chime in.  “I’m not in the mood to be playing the poetry game here. Hold on, I’m going to run some diagnostics just to see if the sensors and analytical software’s functioning properly.” Vir quickly shot back, not allowing even a second of silence to take the place of the last of the dulcet tones generated by the Interloper. His tone of voice was very much in line with the no-nonsense persona he always assumed whenever a threat was genuine and the stakes were high.

It was clear he wasn’t satisfied with the wishy washy, sing-song nature of the Interloper’s response.

Which, to be fair, I wasn’t as well.

However, whilst it was prudent to always be critical, to always be on top of the game when it came to these tentative first interactions; it was also a slippery slope to assume anything when everything was still entirely unknown.

“Maybe it isn’t just a string of random words.” I offered, putting my own hat in the ring as I brought up a counterpoint.

“What?” Vir shot back immediately.

“Maybe this response isn’t the result of a software glitch or an error somewhere along the daisy-chain of interfaces and air gaps we put in place. Perhaps we should consider the possibility that this isn’t an end-system issue, but rather an issue from the user, or rather the input in the first place.” I continued, trying my best to remain calm, composed, and most important of all… in control of the situation.

Which was a truly difficult task when up to this point, we were always on the backfoot.

“So what you’re saying is, you think that quote: Everything. Everywhere. Every time. Eternal is actually its name?” Vir responded inquisitively, clearly taking into account that possibility. “If so, what the hell was its response to your followup question?”

“I can’t say.” I admitted. “What I can say however is that we’re sailing into uncharted waters, Vir. We might have to entertain the possibility of this perhaps just being how it normally speaks. Perhaps there’s some greater nuance to its language, a greater degree of information density to words we simply have no equivalent for.” I began, as the low-tone, dulcet rumblings of static continued in the background. Indicating that the systems were still primed and poised to continue relaying anything and everything from the interloper’s language centers. I shuddered, but pressed on regardless. “Whilst I don’t discount the possibility of our sensors misinterpreting what it’s saying, all I’m saying is we shouldn’t discount the possibility that this might just be the norm for them. Perhaps…” I paused, as I considered a possibility that was in equal parts uncomfortable as it was highly plausible.

“Yeah?” Vir egged me on, as it was clear he was coming to the same conclusion, but was perhaps a bit hesitant on being the one to propose it.

“Perhaps we’re missing a massive part of how it communicates? We’re looking at this from the perspective of a non-telepathic species. Our attempts to probe its brain, to map out its language center, maybe all of that is functioning as intended. Maybe, just maybe, it communicates using more than just the spoken word as we’d understand it to convey its meaning?”

“Kinda like body language, or eye contact, or a number of other unspoken social rules. You’re saying we’re only seeing part of the picture but not the whole story?” Vir surmised with a questioning cock of his head.

“Precisely. However, judging by how limited the exchange currently is, I think it may be a matter that goes far beyond just body language. I propose that the spoken tongue itself, and anything we’re interpreting as language as understood by our conventions, is perhaps an ancillary to a more complex mode of communication.”

Vir seemed to be taking this into heavy consideration as he went silent for a good few seconds. Indicating that he was pouring his all into this possibility.

“I concur.” He finally responded after a good three seconds of complete silence. “The signal chatter from the mothership I shot down during our first encounter was frantic and filled with a frenzy bordering on AI-levels of multilateral and multilayered communication. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but there was something so very wrong about it. It didn’t seem efficient, it felt more like an organic trying to emulate an AI’s peer-to-peer communications protocols. However, given everything we’ve seen thus far, it’s clear that perhaps that’s exactly what I monitored and logged from that encounter.” The AI sighed with a resigned tone of voice. Yet quickly followed it up with a renewed smile of confidence.

One that I couldn’t help but to mimic back as I practically read thee AI’s mind before he could finish his sentence.

“Judging by the fact you’ve managed to log these anomalous signals from the interloper mothership we previously encountered… I assume you might be able to somehow utilize those logs to decipher the latent signals being transmitted by our resident interloper?” I interjected, the frustration in my voice giving way to an excitement tempered with relief.

“Yes, and it shouldn’t take too long either. I’ve been wracking my head over the data from that encounter. It never made sense to me, deciphering it using digital and analog means never bore anything that I could work with. It’s clear now I’ve been attacking this problem from the wrong perspective. If this is an entirely proprietary means of telepathic organic communication, my rules just don’t apply. I’d assumed since the interlopers’ were relaying this using artificial signal amps that it might have actually been a cybernetic or an engineered augment that might’ve had some artificiality. However… yeah, no, this was entirely on me for not seeing the obvious.” The AI admitted with a bit of a self-deprecating tone of disappointment. “But like I said, it shouldn’t take too long now. I’m mapping and cross referencing the language center with this… signal its brain is somehow generating. And with a bit of backlog from the data gathered from the interlopers we neutralized, we should get something more resembling coherent speech in just a bit.”

The fact that Vir was now so freely admitting and owning up to his mistakes just put me in mind of exactly how far we’d come along in just under a month now. That boisterous, self-assured AI from the hibernation chambers had now been tempered by what I could only describe as a more measured approach to how he both interpreted his actions and their consequences.

I just hoped that I’d addressed the root of my issues as effectively as the AI had so clearly done in such a short amount of time.

“Understood.” I acknowledged without addressing any of the issues I wanted to bring up. Realizing that any sentimentality now was an unnecessary distraction, at least for as long as we were still on the clock for this encounter.

It took just under ten minutes. Ten, long, agonizing excruciating minutes as the AI was able to hack something together.

I assumed that it was probably a programming equivalent to a quick-fix held together with tape, glue, a few nails, and a lot of hopes and prayers.

“Alright.” He began. “Let’s try it again, and this time, we should have a language pass-through rate of at least seventy percent.”

I nodded. “Open up a channel then.”

“Opening channel now.”

“Everything. Everywhere. Every time. Eternal.” I parroted once more. “Is that your name?” I asked again.

This time, a response came almost immediately. As it was clear Vir both reinforced whatever systems existed for translation in both directions.

“A dream, it was only a dream. Now, it is a nightmare.” That same voice, now only clearer, louder, and more emotive, blasted over the speakers. “A voice, small, diminutive, meek, asking, pleading, as an animal would to its betters. Now, the voice returns. Clumsily, crudely, stumbling forwards in the guise of another of our kind.” It paused, its tone shifting with each and every word, as benign loftiness  transitioned to confusion, then anger and indignancy. “You wear the coat of a senior, yet hide your face in the shadows. You dare announce such trivialities as names, whilst mimicking a dead voice. Pray tell, are you a figment of my guilty conscience here to enact the justice that I so deserve? Or have you finally arrived, you short-lived creatures of malignancy, you resistors of entropy, you interlopers.” It asked without once skipping a single beat.