52/365 - Miracle Song

The virus was in the music.

First contact had happened four months ago. We were receiving music from another planet. All of the deep space exploration dishes swiveled over to listen. A small bit of it was played on CNN when the story first broke. Not long after, the whole song was released. It was digitized and after the primary uploads it spread out over every radio, television and internet station on the planet. YouTube users produced homemade music videos to the music. A few experimental artists did their own cover versions.

It cured deafness. It was deemed a miracle by the pope.

It was immensely popular. Alien but catchy. A new rhythm we’d never heard before. An always repeating but never repeating pattern, like the branches of tree. A few notes we didn’t have but an accessible beat and in some places, an almost plaintive sense of purpose. It never quite hit completion. There was something maddening about it but also calming. It made a person’s mind search for what was missing. The scientists were finding that there were notes in the song that were too high and too low for us to hear, like it was designed for aliens with wider sound spectrums. Either that or it was a song designed for every race in the universe to hear no matter what kind of ears they had.

It didn’t have an ending. It had been playing since we first started listening to it. When people covered it, they merely faded the song out after a while. You could do a ten minute version or a two-hour version. A few film makers had released movies where the entire feature-length soundtrack was a snippet of the song. Mathematicians were likening it to pi.

We were all swept up in the craze. Musical aliens! People openly wept with joy on talk show interviews when they were questioned about it. It seemed so benevolent. For the religious, it was concrete proof of God. For the atheists, it was proof that the universe was a friendly place.

It wasn’t something that we noticed right away. I mean, people all over the world hate their jobs, right? People were quitting. A few at first, but then a lot. Soon, people started saying home in droves. Calling in sick or just not showing up. They walked around the streets with smiles on their faces in the sunlight. All turning up the music, smiling, and walking out of their workplaces.

Only the workers necessary to keep humans alive and listening kept going to work. And they did it gladly. For free.

The music caused an intense sense of peace. It affected everyone who heard it. It was also altering people’s bodies. They could get by on water and a few bare nutrients a day. Some people starved but most people just got much thinner. They sat in parks and on rooftops with earbuds humming all smiling and staring. There was no panic. It was a worldwide quelling of stress. Reporters stopped reporting.

Within a year, industry collapsed and communication networks hummed with only the music. Gardens sprang up on every block. People stayed in touch through the internet but after a while, even that went silent. We were all connected through the song.

It was a lullaby that put us all to sleep.

It had caused everyone to sit down where they were and just appreciate the beauty around them.

The immense, black, pointed ships showed up in the sky two days ago. They’re collecting us.

We don’t mind.



tags

53/365 - Comeback (Rewrite)

When the pins and needles had stopped caressing her body, when her muscles twitched to life and she took her first gasping steps out of the cryotube and lit a cigarette from the old pack beside her old clothes, when she had her two whiskey shots from the bottle she took with her when she first went under, when she had picked up her guitar and tried out the fine motor control tests on the chords, only then did she notice the red envelope taped to the small desk in the middle of her waking chamber.

She opened it:

October 20th, 2344

Dear Janey Starr (nee Alice Winthrope)

Further to a shareholder’s/publicity meeting held on January 16th, 2337, we regretfully confirm that your employment with us is terminated from October 20th, 2344 with immediate effect.

This is due to your position having to be made redundant, and in no way reflects your performance of your job, which has been entirely satisfactory/excellent.
The last ‘Legends of Yesteryear’ concert was not entirely sold out and as you know, popular music has continued to evolve as the decades go by. In a ranking of longevity popularity, you have come to be on the bottom of the list. We’ve had to add higher-grossing artists to the top of the bill and remove the least popular acts from the bottom. (see attached studies and lists in appendix 1) That was you and three others. The other three are not from your time frame so their names will not be familiar to you. It’s a testament to your talent that you’ve lasted as long as you have with us.

As stated in the minutes of the meeting (included here), the terms of your redundancy are as follows.

A payment to the order of 800 NWD dollars adjusted for deflation (see appendix 2a for your time frame equivalent). An iStar credit rating boost of 11 per cent (see appendix 2b for your time frame equivalent). Class 4 mating, smoking, and drinking privileges. (see appendix 2c for your time frame equivalent). Free access to your savings from your initial investments with your original bank. (see appendix 3 for changes to your bank’s interest rates and company holdings during your storage).

Don’t hesitate to get in touch with us for a letter of reference. Please vacate this cryochamber immediately. Make sure to take all your personal belongings. Temporary housing and employment options will be provided for you for one month.

A representative will be waiting outside the chamber for you. Have an enjoyable life.
Yours sincerely

Acquisition Entertainment Star Services Incorporated

Well, thought Janey Starr, it’s not the first time I’ve hit the ground running. All I need to do now was write some hit songs and sing them. Find a few bars close to where I live and show them my stuff. Let’s get out of here.

She stubbed out her cigarette not knowing that the pack in her chamber was the last legal pack in existence. She felt the taste of whiskey in her mouth not knowing that there was no naturally bottled alcohol like it left on Earth. She left with her backpack full of six outfits not knowing that matter converters could create any clothing she desired now. She strapped her guitar to her back not knowing that all music was created with brainwaves these days.

It was time for a comeback tour.




tags

54/365 - What's In a Name

This particular first contact was confusing. All the aliens seemed to have the same name. At first we thought the translators were broken but it appeared that the aliens, thrilled at meeting another alien race, were all named Cruff. They looked at us through their many yellow eyes and wide smiles with different lengths of green hair.

It was awkward.

In a radio transmission, they’d referred to their own race as the Kursk. So we knew they weren’t referring to their race.

When we introduced ourselves, it was like they didn’t know if they should be insulted or confused. Their smiles fell. They blinked a lot. They checked their translators like we did.

Then when re-introduced ourselves, the confused ones said their name was Jart. The two that seemed offended referred to themselves haughtily as Pronto and looked at the ground.

The Kursk had a notion that all emotions and physical states were vast, invisible beings. And that to experience an emotion or physical state was to become an appendage of that emotion or physical state. They believed they were merely extensions and that each of those vast, invisible beings had a name.

The joy of discovery was called Cruff. When a Kursk experienced the joy of discovery, that Kursk’s name became Cruff. Confusion was called Jart. Being offended was called Pronto.

They had different names depending on their physical or emotional state.

Angry people were called Tarno but then when they become happy, they were called Shret. The names were applicable all across three of their sexes.

They had six hundred and eight-seven names. As their society progressed and became more complex, a new name was added now and then. The last time that happened was a hundred years before we met them. They were very peaceful.

They had math and so they had numbers for each citizen to keep track of them in terms of any needed bureaucracy. Personal Identity Numbers to keep the wheels of commerce and retirement and birth records going. In many respects, they were like humans.

What happened was a tragedy. We’d taken precautions against any sort of biological or technological contamination. We’d even limited their access to our records so that they wouldn’t find out the finer points of war or the more distasteful chapters of our history.

But names. We didn’t think of the names.

We contaminated them. They had six hundred names. We have millions. In their culture, a new name was a big deal. They hadn't had a new name in ten years.

Now they had too many. It introduced a fracture into their society. In a mad rush to assimilate what they could from our culture, they innocently copied over nine hundred thousand names before we barred access to our records. We didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.

They couldn’t agree on the finer points of the new names and what they signified. They demanded to meet people with the names they were unfamiliar with. We refused.

It plunged their society into chaos. It exposed them to an emotional complexity within a month that should have taken centuries to develop. We feel pretty guilty.

We basically introduced nine hundred thousand giant, invisible beings into their society with no idea how to define them. It might as well have been an invasion.

We are orbiting the planet now. Soon we will leave and classify this planet as off limits except to qualified personnel.

We’ve done enough damage here.




tags