By Mihir Mathur
[Prompt] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species.
Kud’trel awoke to the soft, soothing pinging in his stasis chamber. Slowly, the amber fluid he was suspended in drained away, and the protective glass of the chamber opened with a quiet hiss. He looked around blearily, as the sights and sounds of his surroundings filtered into his slowly reanimating brain. The interior lights were dimmed, and all the windows were darkened. He sat up and stretched, rubbing his eyes. The stasis pod next to him was also draining its amber contents to reveal his lone companion for this journey, Tand’kra. Kud’trel shuffled to the bathroom to shower and finally get around to inspect the new system that they had warped to.
After a quick shower and putting on a clean suit, Kud’trel headed up to the bridge, joined shortly by Tand’kra. She was still quite upset, and their 20,000-light-year journey hadn’t changed that. She kept her eyes on the console in front of her, and kept swivelling her chair away from him to peruse the screens on the far side of the console bank, rather more than was necessary, Kud’trel thought.
It was always awkward at first when one is assigned a new partner for these expeditions, and it was not helped by the fact that Tand’kra was an Academy Historica Affiliate as well. They usually do not get along with each other all that well, as each choose to go their own way, in pursuit of lost or new knowledge across the galaxy. Kud’trel was still hopeful that they could have a good camaraderie, until the Historica leader overruled her plea to search some other system, and awarded the trip to Kud’trel instead. Their resources were always low, but the Academia had been given priority funding over several other projects, including those related to war. So now, Kud’trel was the leader for the trip, and Tand’kra answered to him. It wasn’t fair to her, really, but they both had to just work through it anyhow. They had a common goal after all, which was to find the ancient home of their great ancestors.
They have been gone a long time now. They arose from Earth, which was now lost, and ventured out into the stars, only to find themselves alone. They were the first, the first to harness the power of stars, to build massive megastructures that are still used today. They amassed knowledge, which they shared as freely as their love for life. They guided and uplifted several others to greatness. They were the true beacons of hope for all; they were not particularly physically dominant, they had no armoured exoskeleton, no claws, no sharpened senses, or speed. They were entirely unremarkable, but they made up for that with superior intellect and the will to help others. They defeated their own demons, and helped everyone defeat theirs’. Their warriors were the fiercest, their scientist the brightest, and collectively, their heart was the biggest. And now, they are gone. They didn’t vanish into thin air, but over thousands of generations, their gene pool got more and more dilute, until their species was lost. They succumbed to love, as many romantics like to put it. And now, the galaxy had plunged into war without their guiding hand.
Many people held out hope that their homeworld held the answers somehow. A weapon to end the war, or the cure to the plague that had ravaged several hundred populated worlds, or some cornucopia or panacea that would heal the endless suffering that the current war, and the several before it, had caused. If nothing else, it could bring some hope to the masses to see that pale blue dot.
There has never been a species like theirs’ since, though there are many that tried and failed to espouse their ideals. There are many scholars who meticulously study them, try to unearth their relics and knowledge to understand them. Many, like him, set out in the hope to find their home planet, which they held very dear. The planet would no longer be inhabitable of course, but hundreds of millions of years ago, it was supposed to be a paradise. An entire planet free of conflict, offering the best life the galaxy had to offer. A place that always took one in, no matter where one came from, and treated them as equals. None of that could have survived, but to stand on the True Earth was itself a great honour, and perhaps, a trove of knowledge of how humans came to be. There was a serious lack of those ideals now. People had turned into monsters, disagreements escalating into conflict, desperation turning into battle, pride turning into violence. It was chaos.
They had not exactly left any instructions on how to find their place, besides vague descriptions of their night sky, and the planets in their star system. All they have to do was look at a planet, try to match their descriptions of the constellations and planets, while also accounting for a billion years’ worth of change. And then repeat that hundreds of trillions of times for every planet, provided the local star or a massive meteorite hasn’t destroyed the planet. It was no surprise then, that the search for the planet began over a million years ago, and has yet to yield results.
Kud’trel was actually confident about this star system. Nearly all of the Academy Historica didn’t believe him, but then again, they hadn’t found Earth either. Many of them, Tand’kra included, believed that it was closer to centre of the galaxy, just outside the chaotic galactic core. That didn’t matter right now, because this was Kud’trel’s trip.
“Looks like a yellow dwarf star,” Tand’kra said, “All 16 planets are lifeless, no gas giants, and an envelope of icy rocks around the whole thing.” She sounded quite condescending when he said that, as though she was already sure that this system was a bust. He ran his simulation, trying to see what the system would look like a billion years ago. A few moments later, it displayed the result. It was not good. No familiar planets, no matching constellations. Kud’trel slumped back in his chair, and covered his face with his hands. Tand’kra was silent. She was either looking at him smugly or pitifully. He did not know which was worse. The console in front of him beeped, notifying him a received communiqué. He lowered his hands and dejectedly tapped the command to open the message. The hologram in front of him flashed golden before him, and then immediately displayed a “Corrupted File” error message.
“What was that?” Tand’kra asked.
“Some stray broadcast probably. Attenuated to hell,” he replied.
She was waiting for him to cut the trip short, he knew it. There was nothing here. Dejectedly, he closed the error message floating in front of him. He must have pressed something else, because the message refreshed. This time, he caught something. He hit refresh again, catching a small glimpse of the gold flash, before it changed to the error message again. It looked like a golden plaque, with something etched on it. It was too fleeting to see what the plaque said, but it still jogged his memory. The Plaque of the Pioneer. An obscure and generally dismissed piece of knowledge, that there was a satellite made by early humans that invited visitors to Earth.
“Where did the message come from?” Kud’trel asked. His mind was racing. This could not be a coincidence. While Tand’kra, begrudgingly, went to tracing the transmission, Kud’trel pulled up his notes and started hunting for an image of that plaque. The original plaque or the satellite was never found, but the humans still kept a record of it long ago, a part of which still exists. He finally found it. It was a partial image, but the bottom portion was still clear, pointing to the third planet from its sun. He looked up at the simulation again, which showed a much smaller star.
“It came from the second planet,” Tand’kra said.
“Set course,” he said, “we have been invited.”
The journey did not take long. Short range jumps did not require them to go into stasis, and they were closing in on the planet within a few minutes. The planet was dead, charred black due to the proximity to the Sun. Even of this was the True Earth, there was nothing to be found here. Kud’trel could feel it calling it to him, as if he was within the sight of his home after a long journey. An indescribable sense of kinship, as though there were some old friends waiting to welcome him. He glanced at the message again. Apparently, there was someone waiting for him.
The ship detected very little atmosphere, so re-entry would be smooth. All they had to do was find the thing that had sent them the message and –
The ship shook violently, as though being shaken by a child, and the cockpit windscreens were covered in darkness, as though the lights of the universe had just been turned off. He was nearly thrown out of his seat before the seat automatically deployed belts to tether him. The alarms went off a second later.
The darkness suddenly disappeared, and was replaced by something more terrifying. Massive tongues of flames were licking the windscreen, as though the whole ship was on fire.
“What is going on?!” Kud’trel shouted.
“Reentry!” Tand’kra shouted back.
Indeed, the flames did look like plasma streamers from the heat of re-entry. Their sensors have been fooled somehow. They both wrestled with the controls to bring the ship in a controlled descent, or at least soften the impact.
“If we get stranded here, I will kill you!” Tand’kra shouted at him, as he deployed the air-brakes, and they were thrown forward again. As the plasma streamers receded, his breath hitched as he beheld a wondrous sight. The world which appeared dark and bleak from space, was now a luscious green and blue, just as the old tales had described. As they descended, they could make out the snow-capped mountains in the distance, the vast jungles of towering trees, the land full of meandering rivers, their shining waters reflecting the glorious light of the setting sun, while the sky above was splashed with golden and crimson light, with a hint of blue waning in the dusk. They have been on many worlds in their lives, but this planet had a bewitching beauty to it, that of a world untouched for nearly a billion years.
This planet, True Earth. Kud’trel knew it. He was back home.
This was not some elaborate joke with holograms. The sensors were returning atmospheric and soil compositions, life signs in the forests and the oceans. Tand’kra was looking for a landing spot, and found it in a jungle clearing, mostly occupied by a shallow pond. The on-board computer guided the ship to the ground, the landing legs gently sinking into the ground.
They both were still speechless, as the gravity of their discovery was still settling in. Wordlessly, they headed to their exploration suit storage, and allowed the articulated arms to assemble the suit on them. The atmosphere was an oxygen-nitrogen mixture that would suffocate them in seconds. They headed to the airlock, and waited as it cycled, and descended the ramp to the ground.
The clearing was in a cool shadow, with shafts of sunlight filtering in through the trees, lightly touching the pond. Kud’trel could see tiny animals and fishes beneath its surface, as a few aquatic plants poked out of the surface, reaching for the sun. The jungle was mostly silent, punctuated by the distant cries of birds.
“Why did it look like that from space?” Tand’kra asked.
Kud’trel did not know. This was some kind of cloaking technology, but on a planetary scale. This planet was hidden.
Suddenly, they heard a new, more menacing noise. A low guttural noise, emitted by some large beast somewhere in the trees. Kud’trel changed his visor to tactical mode. The suit had no combative capabilities whatsoever, but would at least tell them where the animal was coming from, so they would know which way to run. When they saw the beast emerge however, they froze.
It was massive. Five feet tall, glistening brown-black fur, vicious curved black claws, and its bared teeth were as long as Kud’trel’s hand. It was stalking low, edging closer to them, and let out another low growl. Kud’trel thought about using his suppressing gun, but this thing was way too big to be effective. Instead of choosing in the direction to run, Kud’trel tried to match the description of the animal.
A primitive torch landed in the closing space between them. It was a simple bundle of sticks, with a bundle of fibers wrapped around one end, set on fire. They all recoiled in surprise, and the beast leapt back a foot, and let out a yelp of surprise. Kud’trel saw another lit torch bounce off a tree and land close to the beast. It jumped back again, let out an angry hiss at them, glanced warily at the treeline that was issuing flaming torches, and disappeared into the undergrowth.
“Well, that scared it off!” A voice behind them said.
They both spun around. Kud’trel’s mind had just started to process what had just happened, but froze again at the sight of the new arrival. A human. Looking exactly like the photos in his history books, and the museum pictures of their first contact with other species. Nobody looked like them anymore. Yet, there he was, in the flesh. He smiled and waved as he approached. Kud’trel tried to get a word out.
“You- you’re a, you’re a- you-!” he managed.
“- a human!” Tand’kra blurted out.
“Yes, and no,” he replied, “my name is Maxwell.” He didn’t offer the traditional human greeting, a handshake, but smiled warmly all the same. “Follow me, please. Your welcoming committee is highly territorial. Let’s go to my place. Your ship will be fine.”
Kud’trel decided to take it in stride. He realized that he had more important things to do than to freak out over talking to a member of species what was basically the grandfathers of the galaxy, whose very existence should not be possible. Tand’kra seemed to have made a similar decision, and they followed Maxwell on to a path that led away from the clearing. He wondered if he was being led to some mystical tome that would fill all the gaps in their knowledge of humans, but he did not dare to raise his hopes, though this trip was anything but a disappointment.
They arrived at a sunken cave, its entrance nearly concealed under a thick cover of vines and roots. He stopped near the entrance, and beckoned them to go in first, as though he was a gracious host welcoming them to his house. Kud’trel swept the foliage aside to go in, and found himself in a gloomy cave, with a damp floor. Tand’kra looked around and sat down on a rock outcropping, and Kud’trel joined her. Maxwell entered and snapped his fingers, and a lively bonfire sprung to light a few feet in front of them. He couldn’t feel the heat in his suit, so he guessed it was for show. He sat down on another outcropping of rock on the other side of the fire.
“So, what do you want to know?”
Kud’trel was taken aback by that question. What was he supposed to ask? The meaning of life, universe and everything? The lost recipe for his great grandmother’s roast vegetable stew? That girl’s number he was trying to work up the courage to talk to? These were humans after all, they were supposed to be extremely smart. Tand’kra beat him to the first question.
“Where have you been all this while? For a billion years?” she asked.
“Humans, as a species, are extinct.” He replied solemnly, “They mingled with other species, and their genes got spread too thin. I think you know that. But they are not gone.”
“Yes,” Kud’trel said, “you’re still here.”
“Yes,” he replied, “and no.”
“What do you mean?” Tand’kra asked.
“Humans are extinct,” he repeated, “but they are not gone.”
“Are there still humans out there?” Kud’trel asked excitedly.
“No.”
Kud’trel and Tand’kra exchanged puzzled looks. Maxwell was being quite eccentric here. Humans used to have fragile minds, which was one of the challenges that they overcame on their march from monkeys to a galactic civilization. Perhaps, Maxwell had been driven mad by the isolation. Kud’trel decided to change his line of questioning.
“Is this Earth?”
“Do you mean ‘True Earth’, as you call it?” he said, “Yes. Yes, it is.”
Kud’trel let out a sigh of relief. This wasn’t some elaborate joke after all.
“Why is there a hologram around this planet?” Tand’kra asked, leaning forward. Kud’trel could tell that her patience was starting to wear thin.
“To hide it.” Maxwell replied without any inflection, as though the answer was simple.
“Yes, but why hide it?”
“To prove that the humans really are gone.”
They were silent again. Kud’trel was really beginning to doubt this man’s sanity. He did not know how he survived a billion years on Earth, but it had done his psyche no favours. Kud’trel decided that it was time to leave. This was perhaps the greatest discovery in the galaxy, the culmination of a million years of searching. He really could not wish for more. He was thinking of a polite way to end the conversation, and Tand’kra was looking at him quizzically, when the human spoke again.
“I asked you what you wanted to know, but I think you don’t know what it is you want to know,” he said. He shifted his weight to get more comfortable. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” Kud’trel and Tand’kra exchanged glances again, and she nodded at him.
“Why do you want to find this True Earth, anyway?”
“Because it is the lost planet of the humans. The True Earth. It is where it all began.” Kud’trel said.
“So?”
Kud’trel was taken aback. No one had ever belittled the noble mission of finding the True Earth. However, if anyone were to do it, it would be a human. Tand’kra went next.
“It is our home,” she said,” the birthplace of our ancestors, the vanguards of the galaxy. We just wanted to come home.”
“Neither of you were born here. Neither of you grew up here. I imagine nobody you know is from here. In fact, this is the first time you have set foot here in a billion. Why was this place so important for you to find?”
They said nothing. They realized that there was hundreds of millions of years’ worth of context to explain to him here, and that might take a while.
“Let me tell you something about humanity,” he said. “They were sentimental.”
He looked at them both in the eyes in turn and continued, “They held a lot of things very dear to them. Things, emotions, memories, even history. All of it were old things. Almost always useless at the time, bit still valuable. There is nothing wrong with to cherish something, mind you. But when you hold that thing dearer than everything and everyone around you right now, then well…”, he paused.
“It does not end well.”
Kud’trel and Tand’kra were listening intently, as though they were children being told a story.
“They fixated over the past for a long time. Old memories, ancient history, old enmities – they held on to those more than a lot of more important things, like making new memories, creating history, and making friendships,” his voice seemed to be stronger now, hinting at the wisdom of the ancient galactic civilization that he represented. “It was a lesson that they learned the hard way. They were almost on the brink of death when they realized what they were doing wrong. They buried their hatchets, and held hands, and finally mastered that final frontier, together. They settled on new worlds, grew larger and larger, and then the rest, as they say, is history.”
“And here you are now, looking for history and memories, when the galaxy is suffering.”
He did not sound patronizing, or accusatory, but it was enough for Kud’trel to hang his head in shame.
“But you rose above it! You overcame it and banded together! That is why we are here, to learn from them!” Tand’kra said, rising to her feet. “You must help us in this war! Help us win it!”
“Did you know that the humans figured out soon after making first contact that they would soon go extinct?” Maxwell said, crossing his arms, “That they would be relegated into the past, the more they mingled with other life in the galaxy, and be reduced to nothing but memories? Did you know what they did then?”
“No.”
“They started doing it even more. Mixing with other species even more, finding new ones and guiding them to the galactic stage as equals. They built stations, and Dyson spheres that would survive long after they were extinct. Do you know why?”
They shook their heads.
“Because the future was more important. They wanted to have a legacy, and not just stick around, alone, in a dead and dark galaxy,” he said. “There are many answers that they could not find, but they left behind the tools for you to survive, so that, some day, you might find them instead. And so that you could live in peace, and not make the mistakes they did.”
Kud’trel understood now. Humanity truly was extinct. But their old space stations, and their knowledge, still lived on. He stood up too.
“You did not want us to find you,” he said.
“No, I did not,” he replied, and smiled encouragingly.
“You want us to help the galaxy, like the humans did,” Kud’trel said.
“Exactly,” he said, and stood up to walk around the bonfire, and extended his hand for a handshake. Kud’trel extended his, but grasped only air. His hand passed through Maxwell’s like a ghost. Or a hologram.
“You’re not real.” Tand’kra said in disbelief.
“No,” he said, “I am just a dumb computer that looks after Earth. I keep up that planetary hologram to hide it, and try to maintain the planet as it was when the humans left for the last time.” He chuckled. “What can I say? They always were a bit sentimental.”
“So, the humans…” Tand’kra began.
“Yes, they are extinct,” he said. “Are they gone? Well,” he smiled at the two of them, “they were hoping someone else would take up that mantle.”
Maxwell escorted them to their ship, waved them goodbye, and faded into nothingness. Perhaps, it was the last time he would be seen ever again, just as his creators had intended.
Their ascent through the atmosphere was far smoother than their descent. Kud’trel watched the planet recede in the rear-view camera. Once they were high enough, the hologram shimmered into view, hiding the planet underneath.
Kud’trel entered the commands in his console to end the mission. On receiving the message, his commander called back.
His holographic bust hovered in front of them. He glanced at both of them expectantly.
“Well?” he said, “Was the mission a success? Did you find anything?”
“Yes,” Kud’trel replied, smiling, “and no.”
By Mihir Mathur