February 2500, somewhere in hyperspace
Captain Alvar once
again looked nervously at the commands on the control panel in front of him.
There was still no sign of the pulsing blue light that he so desperately needed
to see to confirm that his mission – and his life’s work – had been successful.
Outside, beyond the glass of the observation windows of the spaceship, there
was nothing but an empty void. Each time the craft entered a new solar system,
which was happening more and more infrequently, he fiddled about with his dials
and pressed buttons to see if it was this
time that he would discover that which he knew existed. But it never was, and he would have to return to his
charts and to the obscure scribblings he had made over the years.
He was well aware
that his crew was becoming restless, and were probably doubting his sanity. And
even he was beginning to have some doubts about this himself. Four years ago
they had left their home planet of Laranji, some of them a little bit worried
about this mission, others anxious to embark on this historic adventure in
search of the “new world” that their Captain had been so sure that existed on
the other side of the Universe. Now they were little more than a group of tired,
beaten and frightened men.
Captain Alvar still
remembered his decisive meeting with the Governor of Laranji, almost five years
ago. He had fought so hard to try to convince the Emperor of the Seventh
Quadrant that his long research into various phenomena observed in the heavens proved the existence of another
civilization, living probably somewhere on the opposite side of the Universe.
No one had believed him, and generally people thought he was mad.
Planet Laranji, 2495
“How
can life exist on a planet in the Milky Way?”, the Governor asked, sitting on
his State Chair in the cold and austere surroundings of the gray reception
chamber.
“I’m
not here to present an answer to that question, Governor,” said Captain Alvar.
“I’m simply stating that we have received messages, sometimes in the form of
primitive music, sometimes in strange languages that our linguists are unable
to decipher, but which have nothing to do with any of the six main linguistic
groups existing in our Quadrant.” Alvar paused nervously before he dared state
the next phrase. “And as you know, Governor, we consider that life – at least
as we know it – can only exist in our Quadrant.”
Governor Etome
seemed irritated by this last remark.
“Are
you lecturing me about our knowledge
of the Universe?!”
“It
was not my intention, Governor…”
“And
what,” continued the Governor, “leads you to believe that these sounds are proof of any form of
intelligent life?”
Captain Alvar
requested permission to sit down before he continued, even though he knew that
this might be seen as a lack of discipline. He glanced at the Governor, seated
in front of the fifty men and fifty women who made up the Planetary Council,
none of whom had shown any emotion or reaction towards what he was saying. He
opened a file on his wrist computer and proceeded to talk, now more
comfortably.
“Governor,”
he paused, “we believe that these sounds that have been observed for a
considerable time are an attempt by the inhabitants of this planet to
communicate with us – or with anyone else who might be listening.”
“So?”,
asked the governor, now becoming impatient.
“Recent
developments have suggested that there is
intelligent life on whatever planet it is …”
The
governor was bored, but adhered to the strict codes of decent behavior which
were the basis of existence on Laranji. Thus he fought hard against yawning.
Decorum above all.
“And
these developments are what?”
“One
of the recent attempts at communication by these people was in Portuguese.”
The governor
simultaneously became extremely interested and absolutely dumbfounded. Over two
minutes passed before he spoke again. Captain Alvar shifted in his chair,
experiencing a sentiment which was a mixture of pride and fear.
“In Portuguese?”
“Precisely,”
stated Captain Alvar, firmly.
The
expression on the governor’s face revealed a confusion of stupefaction and
anger. Surely this was a joke, he thought to himself. Surely this man was as
mad as everyone had said he was. He looked Alvar straight in the eyes.
“And
you have a register of this message?”
“I
will play it to you now, Governor.”
Alvar confidently
pressed the button on his wrist computer containing a recording of the message
that he and his research team had received several months ago; a recording that
he hoped would prove beyond any doubt that intelligent life existed somewhere
in the Milky Way, and that would allow him to receive the financing he needed
to embark on a mission which was possibly the most important undertaking ever
made by a human being. The sound of this historic message echoed throughout the
enormous and empty chamber:
Saaaaaaamba! Saamba, Samba!
Everyone
is gonna dance!
Today
is Carnival!
Today
is Carnival!
Everyone
feels romance!
Saaaamba!
Saaamba!
Let’s
get out there and dance!
Today’s
a party!
It’s
a party day!
Let’s
get out and get some ass!
The governor looked
somewhat uneasy. There was no doubt in his mind about the fact that this was
Portuguese. And even less doubt about the fact that this could have been a
linguistic invention made by any of the Portuguese speakers within the
Quadrant. But what could be the meaning of some of these terms?, he thought to
himself. ‘Samba’, ‘dance’, ‘party’ and ‘get some ass’? These terms all followed
the linguistic codes of the language, but what could they possibly mean?
Governor Etome
thought long and hard about this matter. After he had dismissed Captain Alvar
from his presence, he consulted the High Priest of the Church of the God of
Austerity. In the evening he paced up and down for several hours before he was
able to go to sleep. And it was possibly his curiosity about these words, more
than anything else, which led him to wake up and teleport himself to meet the
Emperor of the Seventh Quadrant, even if it was the middle of the night. And to
recommend financing for the mission.
February 2500, somewhere in hyperspace
Now Captain Alvar
was beginning to doubt his purpose. He and his crew had traveled almost the
whole of the Milky Way, and their scanners and sounding devices had not been
able to detect any evidence of the existence of life. He turned to his second
in command, busily programming charts and studying data.
“Martim”,
he suggested, “I think we should give up. And turn back.”
And it was
precisely at this moment that at first a faint blue light, then growing into a
dazzling blue star, appeared on the life monitor. Alvar was so excited that he
almost smiled, although he stopped himself before breaking a rule of decorum
that was sacred. Martim Suza was also happy. “I am experiencing happiness,
Captain”, he said, somewhat embarrassed. “We have been successful. This is
good.”
The heat-seeking
monitor suggested life on a planet situated within a solar system known to
Laranjian astronomers as System 48X, and which had never been completely
charted by their sonar devices. The main source of this heat was coming from an
area to the south of the planet. Captain Alvar was prompt in his decision, and
it was an enormous effort to contain his joy.
“Suza,
lock a beam onto that point. By my calculations we should be there in less than
six hours.”
Rio de Janeiro, Carnival, 2500
When the spaceship
commanded by Captain Alvar settled down silently and invisibly on the shore in
the Baía de Guanabara it was the middle of the night. Yet the ship’s sensors
showed that massive numbers of beings were active in the area – something which
was strictly forbidden by the rules of Laranji.
Before embarking on
an exploratory mission in the company of Martim Suza, Captain Alvar recalled
the instructions given to him by the Governor. He would have to do exactly that
which had been done by those who had colonized the other planets in the Seventh
Quadrant: to convert the inhabitants, if they were intelligent enough, to the
God of Austerity.
“Ready,
Suza?”
“Let’s
go, Captain.”
Going out to meet
the inhabitants of an unknown planet for the first time was always a moment of
considerable risk. There had been cases of conflict on some planets; and on
others the local beings had been so terrified when they met Laranjians, wearing
masks, and dressed in their shining uniforms and tall pointed helmets, that
they panicked and fled, or attacked them. And so both Alvar and Suza said a
short prayer to the God of Austerity before they pressed their wrist dials and
teleported themselves to an area which seemed to be the major center of this
intense activity.
They immediately
found themselves in the middle of what seemed to be a long avenue. What they
saw was beyond their imagination. Lieutenant Suza was so shocked that he
remained almost paralytic, and only remembered to turn on the recording device
on his helmet after a few seconds.
Contrary to what
they expected, these people were humans, and paid no attention to Suza and
Alvar whatsoever. There were thousands and thousands of these people, all
dressed in the most exotic outfits, or hardly wearing any clothes at all in the
case of many of the females. Suza recorded the whole scene, his mouth hanging
open.
People were moving
around in strange ways, shouting in a sort of rhythmic tone, and waving their
arms and other parts of their bodies. They were beating on strange instruments,
and smiling and laughing openly in public. And even touching each other with
their hands and their mouths. And it was true: they were communicating in
Portuguese! Alvar and Suza recorded over three hours of this activity before
they returned to the spaceship.
Back in the control
room, Captain Alvar sat in front of the transmission panel, holding the glass
disk containing the recording in his hand. What, he thought, would the Governor
and the rest of the Planetary Council think when they received this? This
“music” and “dancing”? This atmosphere that the local people called a “party”?
He inserted the disk into the computer, and pressed “Transmit”.
After he did so, he
sat silently thinking. He put his fingers to his lips, recalling the females
who had pulled off his mask and touched his lips with theirs. A sensation which
he had never previously experienced. Something they called a “kiss”. He
remembered their long, tender fingers touching him in places he had never been
touched before. He recalled their smells and their laughter.
Next morning
Captain Alvar was disturbed, after having spent the night sitting thinking and
dozing in his chair in the control room, by the arrival of Martim Suza and the
Religious Committee, ready to go out and begin the difficult but necessary
process of converting the natives to the Church of the God of Austerity.
“Martim,”
he began. “I’m still the Captain of this ship, and I’m giving you my last
order. Which you will obey: You will return immediately to Laranji.”
“Captain
…?”
“Immediately.
And without me. I’m staying on here. And we are not going to convert these
people.”
Martim
Suza was speechless. Captain Alvar continued:
“I
have sent a code red urgent message explaining everything to the Governor and
to the Planetary Council. I only hope that they understand. Goodbye, Martim.”
And he
teleported himself away.
But what Captain
Alvar did not know was that back on Laranji his urgent message was flashing on
the Governor’s control panel, but no one was paying the slightest attention to
it. The Governor, and the entire Planetary Council, after repeatedly watching
the recording of this “party”, were now “dancing” wildly around the room,
“kissing” each other, removing their clothes, and touching each other in places
they had never been touched before.
(First published in "The Voyage", Simetria 2000)
