Now, as thoughts move more quickly, the bright pinpoints have frozen in place, part of a still backdrop, as if hanging in expectancy, nervously awaiting what happens next. It is a strange, arrogant imagining-as if the universe cares what happens in this obscure corner, or will notice who wins a skirmish in the long, long war.
Thinking fast, I feel almost like my biological friend whose tiny ship cruises by now, only light-seconds away, separated by just two or three tumbling rocks! While I prepare a surprise for my erstwhile companions, it is possible to spare a pocket of my mind and follow her progress… to appreciate her spark of youth.
Perhaps I should have acted to prevent her report, the delivery of her sample trove. It would make my own work easier if humans came here innocent, unsuspecting.
Soon, very soon, these planetoids will swarm with all the different varieties of humans-from true biologicals to resurrected cousins to cyborgs to pure machines and even creatures that were given sapience as a promethean gift. This strange solution to the Maker Quandary-this turning of makers into the probes themselves-will shortly arrive, a frothing mass of multiformed human beings.
They’ll be wary. Thanks to her, they’ll sense a few edge-glimmers of the Truth. Well, it’s only fair. They would have needed that advantage to have a chance with Rejectors, or even Loyalists. They will need every insight, to survive the crystal plague.
And they’ll need their wits when they encounter me.
A stray thought bubbles to the surface, invading my mind like a crawling glob of helium three.
I can’t help but picture something happening, perhaps in a far portion of the galaxy. My own family-my line of probes, or others like it-could have made some discovery, or leap of thought, beyond all that I assume. Or maybe a new generation of replicant-being emerged, godlike in omniscience and power. Either way, might they have chosen another course by now? Could a new tactic or immunity have overcome the Plague? Might some unforeseen strategy of mind take matters to a new level?
Is it possible that my Purpose has become obsolete, as Rejectionism and Loyalism grew redundant?
Oh, it’s clear what happened. The human concept of progress pollutes my thoughts. Still I can’t help feeling intrigued. To me the Purpose is so clear, for all its necessary, manipulative cruelty-too subtle and long-viewed for other, more primitive probes.
And yet…
… yet I can envision (vaguely) a new generation coming up with something as advanced and incomprehensible to me as the Replicant War must seem to humans. A discomforting thought, still I toy with it, like a shiny-dangerous bauble.
Oh yes, humans affected me. I enjoy this queer sensation! As never before meeting them, I now savor uncertainty. Suspense.
The noisy, multiformed tribe of humans will be here soon.
My name is Seeker and I expect interesting times.
Enough. This message-to-ET broadcast is finished. For now. Till the next time someone beams it outward to vex and challenge. Take that, you alien skulkers out there.
That is, if you exist.
Did we cover every potential reason why non-earthly lurkers in our solar system might decide to stay silent, instead of openly saying hello? Of course not!
Indeed, the “lurker” scenario never seemed very likely. There are plenty of other hypotheses that try to resolve the paradox of the Great Silence-the strange absence of voices in a cosmos that ought to teem with life and intelligence. Among almost a hundred “Fermi” explanations that have been proposed, most envision aliens (if they exist) dwelling much farther away, perhaps stuck in their own solar systems, or distracted by deep projects, or aloofly ignoring us, or keeping silent for reasons we’ll never understand.
The strangest possibility? Yet one consistent in all ways? That we’re the first to climb this high. Humanity may be the “Elder Race.” Creepy thought.
Meanwhile, I now turn my attention back to the humans who are reading or listening to this right now. Not mythical aliens, but real people who feel curiosity’s itch, who crave ideas, and who still (even today) buy science fiction stories and ponder the sacred question “what if?”
In other words, folks who are far more worthy of my time and attention than snooty aliens.
As we embark on a new century, let’s recall our duty. To keep looking around. To keep looking ahead.
– The Lonely Sky (1999)
87.
What am I not-seeing? Gerald knew he shouldn’t ask. That was too much like paying attention. Indeed, the thing he was trying involved looking away.
By now he was getting pretty good at the physical part-averting his gaze, picking another part of the hallway to stare toward, at just the right angle, so the natural blind spot of his left eye would float over the length of corridor in question. That trick was easy, once you got the hang of it. Sure, his brain kept stitching together seams, trying to ignore the small missing zone-but as skilled as the human visual cortex might be, it couldn’t insert what your retina didn’t see.
Gerald recalled a story about a medieval king who loved to do this trick while bored at court, glancing away in order to let the blind spot of one eye settle over the head of a tedious petitioner, surreptitiously decapitating the man, for being criminally tiresome.
Of course, Ika and Hiram wanted him to go beyond just shifting the eye. Or even “ignoring” that little stretch of corridor. According to some tantric legends, any person who was disciplined enough to not contemplate a particular thing or person or idea, for a whole day, might thereupon master that thing, person, or idea.
Nonsense. If just relocating your attention was enough, Buddhist monks and such would be conversing with cobblies, for centuries.
Not-looking was just part of it. A beginning.
Unless this is all just a practical joke. Like shouting at someone “Quick! DON’T think of an elephant!”
He wouldn’t put it past Hiram and Ika. Both auties and Neanders enjoyed tweaking the homosap majority, professing to have deep stores of “ancient wisdom” on tap, unavailable to the hordes of regular Cro-Magnon humans infesting Earth and nearby space-a con that seduced millions of the eagerly gullible.
I hear dolphins do it, too.
What if the claims were for real, and not just an act? Weren’t the combined branches of humanity going to need all the wisdom they could get? Alas, with a billion citizens demanding to be uploaded into crystal, another billion loudly renouncing science, and several billions more just scared, what chance was there of reaching consensus on anything?
At least there’s no lack of clever plans.
Like Emily’s unique idea for using the Mother Probe technologies. A scheme that called for taking an ancient dream, one that was a lie, and turning it into truth. A truth that might then help to expose liars…
Something about his thought-drift must have wandered in the right direction, because suddenly Gerald felt a creepy presence. A chill up the back of his neck that said he wasn’t alone in the quiet stretch of slightly curved hallway. And along with all that… a queer sense of approval.