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The Gift ~ by Gordon Green

 
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Gord Green
Galactic Ambassador


Joined: 06 Oct 2014
Posts: 2940
Location: Buffalo, NY

PostPosted: Tue Oct 31, 2017 1:57 am    Post subject: The Gift ~ by Gordon Green Reply with quote

MISSIVE IN A BOTTLE

By : Anonymouse

!MESSAGE BEGINS!

We made a mistake. That is the simple, undeniable truth of the matter, however painful it might be.

The flaw was not in our Observatories, for those machines were as perfect as we could make, and they showed us only the unfiltered light of truth.

The flaw was not in the Predictor, for it is a device of pure, infallible logic, turning raw data into meaningful information without the taint of emotion or bias.

No, the flaw was within us, the Orchestrators of this disaster, the sentients who thought themselves beyond such failings.

We are responsible.

It began a short while ago, as these things are measured, less than 6^6 Deeli ago, though I suspect our systems of measure will mean very little by the time anyone receives this transmission.

We detected faint radio signals from a blossoming intelligence 2^14 Deelis outward from the Galactic Core, as photons travel.

At first crude and unstructured, these leaking broadcasts quickly grew in complexity and strength, as did the messages they carried.

Through our Observatories we watched a world of strife and violence, populated by a barbaric race of short-lived, fast breeding vermin.

They were brutal and uncultured things which stabbed and shot and burned each other with no regard for life or purpose. Even their concepts of Art spoke of conflict and pain.

They divided themselves according to some bizarre cultural patterns and set their every industry to cause of a death. They divided their species based on variations of hue, political and philosophical ideas and reasons of such minutia.

They terrified us...... but we were older and wiser and so very far away...... so we did not fret.

Not yet.

Then we watched them split the atom and breach the heavens within the breadth of one of their single, short generations, and we began to worry.

When they began actively transmitting messages and greetings into space, we felt fear and horror.

Their transmissions promised peace and camaraderie to any who were listening, but we had watched them for too long to buy into such transparent deceptions.
Their transmissions must have been lies. We knew better.

They knew we were out here, and they were coming for us.

The Orchestrators consulted the Predictor, and the output was dire. They would multiply and grow and flood out of their home system like some uncountable tide of Devourer worms, consuming all that lay in their path. They were like a supreme pestilance committed only to chaos. They must be exterminated....before they could contaminate us.

It might take 6^8 Deelis, but they would destroy us if left unchecked. With aching carapaces we decided to act... and sealed our fate.

How could we have known?

The "Gift of Mercy" was 8^4 strides long with a mouth 2/4 that in diameter, filled with many 4^4 weights of machinery, fuel, and ballast. It would push itself up to 2/8th of light speed with its onboard fuel, and then begin to consume interstellar Primary Element 2/2 to feed its unlimited acceleration.

It would be traveling at nearly light speed when it hit.
They would never see it coming.

Its launch was a day of mourning, celebration, and reflection. The horror of the act we had committed weighted heavily upon us all; the necessity of our crime did little to comfort us.

The "Gift" had barely cleared the outer cometary halo when the mistake was realized, but it was too late.

The "Gift" could not be caught, could not be recalled or diverted from its path.

We could only watch in shame and horror as the light of genocide faded into infrared against the distant void.

But......then.....in such a short time....

They grew, and they changed, in a handful of lifetimes they abolished war, abandoned their violent tendencies and turned themselves to the grand purposes of life and Art.

We watched them remake first themselves, and then their world.

Their frail, soft bodies gave way to gleaming metals and plastics, they unified their people through an omnipresent communications grid and produced Art of such power and emotion, the likes of which the Galaxy has never seen before.

Or would again.... because of us.

Because of our fear. Because of our pride.

They converted their home world into a paradise (by their standards) and many 10^6s of them poured out into the surrounding system with a rapidity and vigor that we could only envy.

With bodies built to survive every environment from the day lit surface of their innermost world, to the atmosphere of their largest gas giant and the cold void in-between, they set out to sculpt their system into something beautiful.

At first we thought them simple miners, stripping the rocky planets and moons for vital resources, but then we began to see the purpose to their constructions, the artworks carved into every surface, and traced across the system in glittering lights and dancing fusion trails.

We delighted in their excellence.

And still, our terrible "Gift" approached.

They had less than 2^2 Deeli to see it, following so closely on the tail of its own light.

In that time, oh so brief even by their fleeting lives, more than 10^10 sentients prepared for death.

Lovers exchanged last words, separated by worlds and the tyranny of light speed. Their planet side engineers worked frantically to build sufficient transmission infrastructure to upload the countless masses with the necessary neural modifications, while those above dumped lifetimes of music and literature from their databanks to make room for passengers.

Their essence was transferred to their avatars.

The "'Gift" arrived suddenly, the light of its impact visible in our skies, shining bright and cruel even to the unaugmented ocular receptor.

We watched and we wept for our victims, dead so many Deelis before the light of their doom had even reached us.

Many 6^4s of those who had been directly or even tangentially involved in the creation of the "Gift" sealed their spiracles with paste as a final penance for the small roles they had played in this atrocity. A small price to pay for audacity. And our pride.

The light dimmed, the dust cleared, and our Observatories refocused upon the place where their shining blue world had once hung in the void, and found only dust and the pale gleam of an orphaned moon, wrapped in a thin, burning wisp of atmosphere that had once belonged to its parent.

Radiation and relativistic shrapnel had wiped out much of the inner system, and continent sized chunks of molten rock carried screaming ghosts outward at interstellar escape velocities, damned to wander the great void for an eternity. Yet still some of their essence survived. Their helixial coils of chemical identity was printed upon the cosmos.

The damage was apocalyptic, but not complete, from the shadows of the outer worlds, tiny points of light emerged, thousands of fusion trails of single ships and world ships and battleships and everything in between, many 10^6s of angry survivors in flesh and steel and memory banks, ready to rebuild...and repay us for our impudence.

For a few moments we felt relief, even joy, and we were filled with the hope that their culture and Art would survive the terrible blow we had dealt them.

Then came the message, tightly focused at our star, transmitted simultaneously by hundreds of their ships.


"We know you are out there, and we are coming for you."

!MESSAGE ENDS!



A tribute to the master ,
ARTHUR C CLARKE
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trekriffic
Starship Navigator


Joined: 19 Feb 2015
Posts: 593

PostPosted: Fri Apr 20, 2018 8:59 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

What a great read! Yes, I can see a lot of Arthur C. Clarke in this. Loved the part about “continent sized chunks of molten rock”.
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