LARANJI 2500

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)