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Name Dropping
6 February 2013 00:28We didn’t realize until it was too late. Too much trust in the universal translators.
The aliens had been checked out and studied, we thought. In terms of physiology and self-awareness, they were a good match. Myself, Janine and Roger were the first contact team assigned to touch down on Cyan-3. With all of our combined experience, we nearly had an entire alphabet of abbreviations after our names. We thought we were so smart.
See, the thing is that cultural contamination needs to be kept to an absolute minimum. We touch down with objectives and then we lift off. A small exchange of knowledge with the promise of more and the away we go. Baby steps. This is something that works both ways.
We had no idea something as simple as a name could screw it all up.
The Cyanots were quadrupedal with hand tentacles instead of hooves but they had faces quite like ours. More eyes and the mouth was up top but it was easy to see surprise, fear, anger, wonder, and happiness. The basics. All of our dealings so far had been an exchange of math between our computers. They seemed on par with us but hadn’t yet built anything bigger than satellites.
We stepped out of our shuttle underneath the bright orange sky of Cyan. The air had a slight blue mist to it making the shafts of light from our landing gear stand out. The Cyanot contingent stepped forward. There were six of them
Janine was her bubbly self, barely contained excitement at the prospect of first contact. Roger was his usual cool self, always retreating inwards in times of stress. Myself, I was tired. I’d done twenty-six of these. We looked at each other and we made introductions. I motioned for the lead Cyanot to go first.
Its deep voice sounded out and our translators kicked in. “I am Shenerade. This is Shenerade. I am accompanied by Shenerade and Shenerade.” It motioned to the other Cyanots around it.
Maybe a family? That would account for the same name. “I’m Warren” I said. “This is Janine, and this is Roger. We are from Earth. A planet like yours but far away. Why do you all have the same name?”
The Cyanots looked are our translators and then each other, confused. Almost like we’d done something rude.
The first one’s whinnying, glottal voice came back to us through the translator. “I am Siscorn. This is Siscorn. I am accompanied by Siscorn and Siscorn.”
Something in the back of my head flared up. This was wrong but I hadn’t guessed the depth of it.
Proud and angry, the lead Cyanot took a step towards me and brought its head up in what looked like a challenge. The others were still confused. “I am Torsh. This is Siscorn. I am accompanied by Siscorn and Siscorn.”
Then the one near the back fixated all of its eyes on Janine. Janine smiled and cocked her head. The Cyanot mimicked her astonishingly well. “I am Janine,” it said.
We all looked at it. The lead Cyanot looked at me and adopted a stance of fatigue and worry mixed with old age and professional scorn. It was me, I realized too late. “I am Warren.” It said.
Roger spoke up “We have to get back to the ship. NOW.”
“I am Roger. We need to get away from the humans. NOW. Something has gone wrong. I am Roger.” Said one of the other Cyanots.
We backed away from each other. We got on our ship and left. The Cyanot watched us go.
The Cyanot have no names. They only have terms for states of being. When they are jealous, they become jealousy. They ARE jealousy. When they are mad, they become anger. They ARE anger. Shenerade was polite pride. Siscorn was confusion. Torsh meant to be an angry leader demanding answers. When we introduced our selves as three different states that they’d never heard of, they didn’t understand what we were saying. Later, we found out that they had seventy-six states of being.
Now they had 79. Seventy-six simple states of existence and three complex, layered, human imprints. Unknowingly, we had just introduced three new ‘moods’ into their society based on our personalities. The broadcast had been shown to the entire planet on their version of live television. There was no escape. Every Cyanot was now capable of being Roger, Janine or Warren. My weary gruffness, Janine’s charming sly smile and Roger’s all-business jaw clench people the planet instantly.
It was the biggest cultural contamination screw up of my career.
tags
The aliens had been checked out and studied, we thought. In terms of physiology and self-awareness, they were a good match. Myself, Janine and Roger were the first contact team assigned to touch down on Cyan-3. With all of our combined experience, we nearly had an entire alphabet of abbreviations after our names. We thought we were so smart.
See, the thing is that cultural contamination needs to be kept to an absolute minimum. We touch down with objectives and then we lift off. A small exchange of knowledge with the promise of more and the away we go. Baby steps. This is something that works both ways.
We had no idea something as simple as a name could screw it all up.
The Cyanots were quadrupedal with hand tentacles instead of hooves but they had faces quite like ours. More eyes and the mouth was up top but it was easy to see surprise, fear, anger, wonder, and happiness. The basics. All of our dealings so far had been an exchange of math between our computers. They seemed on par with us but hadn’t yet built anything bigger than satellites.
We stepped out of our shuttle underneath the bright orange sky of Cyan. The air had a slight blue mist to it making the shafts of light from our landing gear stand out. The Cyanot contingent stepped forward. There were six of them
Janine was her bubbly self, barely contained excitement at the prospect of first contact. Roger was his usual cool self, always retreating inwards in times of stress. Myself, I was tired. I’d done twenty-six of these. We looked at each other and we made introductions. I motioned for the lead Cyanot to go first.
Its deep voice sounded out and our translators kicked in. “I am Shenerade. This is Shenerade. I am accompanied by Shenerade and Shenerade.” It motioned to the other Cyanots around it.
Maybe a family? That would account for the same name. “I’m Warren” I said. “This is Janine, and this is Roger. We are from Earth. A planet like yours but far away. Why do you all have the same name?”
The Cyanots looked are our translators and then each other, confused. Almost like we’d done something rude.
The first one’s whinnying, glottal voice came back to us through the translator. “I am Siscorn. This is Siscorn. I am accompanied by Siscorn and Siscorn.”
Something in the back of my head flared up. This was wrong but I hadn’t guessed the depth of it.
Proud and angry, the lead Cyanot took a step towards me and brought its head up in what looked like a challenge. The others were still confused. “I am Torsh. This is Siscorn. I am accompanied by Siscorn and Siscorn.”
Then the one near the back fixated all of its eyes on Janine. Janine smiled and cocked her head. The Cyanot mimicked her astonishingly well. “I am Janine,” it said.
We all looked at it. The lead Cyanot looked at me and adopted a stance of fatigue and worry mixed with old age and professional scorn. It was me, I realized too late. “I am Warren.” It said.
Roger spoke up “We have to get back to the ship. NOW.”
“I am Roger. We need to get away from the humans. NOW. Something has gone wrong. I am Roger.” Said one of the other Cyanots.
We backed away from each other. We got on our ship and left. The Cyanot watched us go.
The Cyanot have no names. They only have terms for states of being. When they are jealous, they become jealousy. They ARE jealousy. When they are mad, they become anger. They ARE anger. Shenerade was polite pride. Siscorn was confusion. Torsh meant to be an angry leader demanding answers. When we introduced our selves as three different states that they’d never heard of, they didn’t understand what we were saying. Later, we found out that they had seventy-six states of being.
Now they had 79. Seventy-six simple states of existence and three complex, layered, human imprints. Unknowingly, we had just introduced three new ‘moods’ into their society based on our personalities. The broadcast had been shown to the entire planet on their version of live television. There was no escape. Every Cyanot was now capable of being Roger, Janine or Warren. My weary gruffness, Janine’s charming sly smile and Roger’s all-business jaw clench people the planet instantly.
It was the biggest cultural contamination screw up of my career.
tags
