//------------------------------// // G4.05: Meaningful Contact // Story: Message in a Bottle // by Starscribe //------------------------------// The next alien to open the door came in the evening. James recognized her for a nurse from the cart she was pushing. “I need to talk to someone in charge. And I need my things back. Can you return them to me?” The alien looked up from her cart, which James could now see had a metal tray of food resting on the top. "Mi bedaŭras, ĉevalidino, sed mi ne komprenas vin. Ĉu vi ne ŝatus iun manĝaĵon? Kreskantaj knabinoj kiel vi bezonas manĝaĵon." The nurse lifted the lid off her tray, showing it to James. It was the most revolting bit of “food” James had ever seen. It looked like hay had been left to rot in the sun for a few days, then bits of overcooked vegetables had been added on top as a garnish. It had a wet, slimy look to it. It didn’t smell much better than it looked. “Yikes. You eat that?” She recoiled, covering up her face with one wing. “Ho, mi scias tion, kion poneoj diras pri malsanuleja manĝaĵo,” said the nurse. “Sed ĝi ne estas tiel malbona. Post ĉio, kion vi travivis, vi bezonas ĉiun mordon.” The nurse hurried over to her, scooping her up off the ground with one impatient leg. She didn’t fight. What would be the point? Soon enough she was back in bed, with an extendable tray holding the food close to her. There were no utensils. “Nun mi iros por sidi tie, kaj atendos ĝis kiam vi finos,” said the nurse. “Se vi manĝos tion, mi alportus al vi ion dolĉan por deserto. Ĉu sukervato bonus?” James straightened, holding up both legs. She held one flat, miming drawing on it with the other. “Please, can I have something to write with? I… you can’t understand any of this anyway.” She looked glumly down at what passed for food. “Unue, manĝu vian manĝon. Vi povas ludi nur post kiam vi manĝos.” James did not have to be a linguist to know what the nurse meant. She kept pointing at the food with one of her wings, looking peremptory. “Food?” James tried, pointing at it too. “Kio?” The nurse asked. “Ĉu io en via manĝaĵo malĝustas?” “Kio,” she imitated. James copied everything about the word perfect on her first try—the intonation, the inflection, everything. She pointed at the food again. “Kio? KIO?” “Ne!” The nurse’s eyes widened. “Mi ne opinas, ke mi estu iu, kiu farus tion, ĉevalidino. Ĉi tio estas manĝaĵo. Manĝaĵo. “Manĝaĵo,” she repeated, and this time she was greeted with a smile in response, and a nod. I shouldn’t assume these emotions mean she thinks I’m right. But if it means delaying when I have to eat this. This time she pointed at herself. “James.” “Jaaemes,” the nurse responded, after a moment. “Ĉu tio estas via nomo, poneo?” As usual, James didn’t know what the alien had said. She nodded anyway. It had sounded close enough. Then she pointed to the alien. “Ho,” the nurse said. “Mi vidas, kien tio iras. Saĝa eta poneo, ĉu ne?” She sat down on the ground in front of James, clearing her throat. “Mi estas Resaniganta Tuŝo. Re-sa-ni-gan-ta Tu-ŝo.” “Resaniganta Tuŝo,” she repeated, and the nurse beamed. Even more pleased than the first time. I suppose being younger does make this less embarrassing… “Manĝu,” the nurse said, pointing at the ‘meal’ again. “Manĝu la nutraĵon.” Her stern expression returned. Apparently this exploration of alien language wouldn’t let her skip her meal. James didn’t eat in silence. The nurse alien spoke to her through most of it, gesticulating with her legs or her wings at various things. James tried to stop eating and watch more than once, but this wasn’t allowed—as soon as she lifted her head from the bowl, even for a few seconds, the nurse would scold her again. The food tasted much like it looked. Bland, cold, and slimey. James missed her nutrition packs, but those would be tucked away with the rest of her belongings. Now how could I ask for those back… The nurse didn’t stick around much past offering her a sweet dessert of something frighteningly like cotton candy, though it was wetter and colder than any she’d ever tasted before. It was delicious, so James did eat it. By the time she had finished, she was alone again. The next few days had passed in a blur for James. She spoke to several different doctors, though “spoke” was a somewhat subjective term in those cases. None had the patience to stick around with James long enough for her to pick up more than a handful of new words. Some things had improved. For some reason she didn’t know, the aliens chose to return her computation surface. Neither the armor, nor the transmitter, nor the handgun or any of her food were given back. She used it to make notes during each conversation, since she didn’t want to display the extent of the computation surface’s abilities while they were around, lest it be taken from her. It was hard to say exactly how seriously the doctors and nurses took her. James got at least an hour with one of them each day to go over basic words and vocabulary, a process facilitated only by the fact that their world had so many culturally similar nouns. I don’t even want to think about the odds. When none of the aliens were in the room with her, James spent her time in a “fort” in the far side of the room, hiding behind the mattress where she could work on her computation surface without being seen from the window. Her sleep remained restless each night, though it got a little better as time wore on. Nearly two weeks into her imprisonment, someone who seemed different from the parade of doctors and nurses finally arrived. She looked much like many of the others, though her coat was pale yellow and her tail and mane were three different shades of purple and red. She also wore a pair of glasses, which James might’ve thought were adorable if she weren’t looking up at them from below. Most significantly, she didn’t have wings. Instead, she had a bony protrusion growing from her head, spiraling so that its point peeked out just a little from her mane. She entered the room during the same afternoon block that James usually received her visit from the doctors, after the afternoon “meal.” At once James could sense an aura of deference from the doctors, who kept their distance from her. That made her want to retreat a little. She didn’t, though she did set the blanket down over the screen of her computation surface. She’d been halfway through with a preliminary extraction of alien verb conjugations—a few more days of this, and she’d be well on her way to building a guide to basic phrases. James rolled onto the floor, sitting on her haunches in the way she’d learned was most comfortable. That position had the bonus of concealing her functional anatomy against the floor—the aliens hadn’t even returned her undersuit layers. “Hello,” she said in their language. “I am James Irwin. It is good to meet you.” She stuck out her hoof, as her original instance might’ve done with a hand. The aliens seemed to understand the gesture generally, because most returned it. The adults paused, conversing with each other very briefly in hushed voices. The doctors seemed satisfied. “Hello,” the newcomer responded, her words very slow and deliberate. “I am Moondancer. Do you—” the rest melted into things she didn’t understand. “I don’t understand,” she said, one of the first phrases she had the doctors teach her. Moondancer turned slightly away, nodding towards the door. The doctors hurried out in a rush, leaving them alone. I know you’re all still watching me through the glass. You can’t trick me. Moondancer said something else, and that was when things got strange. James staggered back, eyes widening as she saw. The bony protrusion on Moondancer’s head had started to glow. It was like she’d dipped it in a glow stick, lighting up her messy mane as she did so. James backed away, her rump touching the rear wall. As with the floor it gave just a little under the pressure, though not nearly enough for her to push through it. Then there was a flash. James dropped to the ground, screaming. She clutched at her head with both hooves, feeling something there. A brief, pulsing migraine roared in her ears, and the whole world flipped over itself. What’s happening what’s happening where did that light come from what’s going on what am I doing here is that the ground no that’s my tail why is everything spinning? And lots of other words, though most of them were curses. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there on the ground, clutching at her head with both hooves and wishing for all the lights to go away. Eventually the ringing started to die down, and James could hear the newcomer speaking just beside her. “The pain won’t last—but neither will the spell.” James opened her eyes to see her horn was no longer glowing, and she was leaning against James’s bed to keep herself standing. Moondancer was breathing very heavily, like she’d just run up several flights of stairs. “I can…” James stammered, rising shakily. The pain had already started to fade, leaving only a strange pressure on her skull. “I can… I understood what you said!” “That’s correct.” She nodded in agreement. “I briefly borrowed your knowledge of language so we could communicate. The information will not persist. It’s not a good idea to cast this spell on the same pony more than once every sunrise. For… reasons that will probably be beyond somepony your age.” James’s mind was spinning. The alien was speaking English! She’d done something, something painful and incredible, something that James could not explain. She had also said the effect wouldn’t last. She could obsess over what had made it possible after. “I have come to your planet from space,” she said, her voice coming in a sudden rush. “The planet I came from is called Earth, and I represent the Stellar Pioneering Society. We wish to enter into diplomatic contact with your species and teach you the method of our technology. Making formal contact with you is not my assignment. I have been sent to learn your language, then teach it to the diplomats who will follow me. Any assistance you could provide me with this assignment will greatly benefit both of our races.” Moondancer stared at her for several seconds. There was no amusement in her face, as James herself might’ve felt if a small child had said that to her. There also wasn’t shock, surprise, disbelief… “That is a very interesting claim,” she eventually said. “I represent the Equestrian Department of Medicine. Really, I’m just a consultant they rushed here because apparently they don’t teach doctors ‘invasive’ mind magic…” She trailed off, seeming to remember James was in front of her. “Oh, right. Your claim is… well.” She looked down at the ground. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Jamies.” None of the aliens ever did a good job with her name. “Your claim is very difficult to believe.” She glanced briefly back at the shut door, and the opaque mirror. “Your doctors would be disturbed to hear me say this, but… they are concerned you suffered severe mistreatment. “You’re a foal who was left on her own kilometers away from the nearest city, during a scheduled downpour…” She shook her head. “I know I shouldn’t say things like that to a foal, but you sound mature. I suppose hardship can do that to a filly on her own, can’t it?” “There was no hardship,” James said, keeping the frustration out of her voice only through great effort. “I am an alien. The possessions your people confiscated… my suit, my transmitter, my gun… bring them here! I could demonstrate their capabilities for you and prove my claim right now.” James tore off the blanket with her mouth, lifting the computation surface very gently from the bed and setting it down in front of the unicorn. She moved one hoof through the space above it, browsing through her files. Without the transmitter she couldn’t access anything in cloud storage, which precluded most of her data. Still, there were standard videos stored on each computer. She selected the first-contact presentation and pressed play. At once the space above the display lit up with the projected image. Whatever Moondancer had been about to say never made it out of her mouth as she stopped, staring at the images. The computation surface displayed an image of Earth, along with an announcer. The image zoomed into the planet, showing plants, animals, and cities. All were peaceful, idyllic—the planet was made to look like a paradise. Only the best, most beautiful things Earth had to offer were shown. “What kind of construct is this?” Moondancer spoke over the announcer, though she didn’t take her eyes away. “How are you modulating the illusion without a horn?” The computation surface began to levitate, floating through the air directly towards Moondancer. James jerked backward with a scream of surprise. A few seconds later, the screen no longer detected her presence, and it went dark. “Oh,” Moondancer sounded disappointed. Whatever she had been looking for on the bottom of the device, she hadn’t found. “This is just a basic cloudwalking rune. It’s the only magic I can sense on the entire construct.” “I… don’t think my language has words for whatever you keep trying to tell me…” James said, her heart still racing. “It sounds like you keep saying magic. My computation surface is an electrical device. A computer, one of the many things my people want yours to have, if they want. You saw what my species looks like. What I used to look like.” A tiny lie, but she didn’t want to get into it now. It was close enough to the truth. “We are here to make contact. Er… not with me specifically. My only mission is to translate your language. Once I do that, diplomats will be created to do the actual introductions. Oh!” She grinned. “Please, whatever else happens, please have the doctors bring me the biggest, thickest dictionary you make. Any other books you have on your language. Could you do that?” The unicorn seemed barely to hear her at that point. She had kept staring at the computation surface, even after it stopped floating and its screen went dark. “I need to take this to Canterlot,” she muttered, turning with a swish of her tail. The computation surface followed her. “This magic needs to be studied, and I need to report you to Family Services, and perhaps the Archeological Society as well.” “My computer won’t work without me nearby!” James couldn’t keep the despair from her voice. “There’s no point stealing it!” “Don’t worry yourself, filly.” She wasn’t looking back anymore. “I’ll authorize your release on my way out. There’s clearly no reason to keep you locked up in here. Family Services will find you a good home. I’ll pass on what you said through the proper channels. You can tell somepony with authority, if they judge you worth their time.” She left, taking James’s computer with her. James shouted after her, ran at the door, but it snapped closed before she could squeeze through. She banged on it once or twice with her hooves, but no one came. She whimpered, sliding down onto her face on the floor and starting to cry. It was a sensation she was getting quite used to. So much for humanity’s brave explorer. * * * Lightning Dust couldn't speak to Welcome Basket as she passed the front desk, not when she was carrying a small basket of pastries in her mouth. She nodded politely, and was pleased to see the various doctors and orderlies let her pass without so much as a second glance. Dust had helped put plenty of ponies into Stormshire General, and not in the same way as she had during her Wonderbolts training. Everypony who saw her knew that if she was here, she had a good reason. Even when all she had was a basket of treats. Yet there was something off about the hospital today. As she passed into the (almost always empty) pediatric wing, with its three rooms, she could hear the nurses speaking in hushed voices. Doctor Penumbra stood in one corner, his tail erect and his ears straight, pacing back and forth with an expression Dust could only describe as enraged. "The absolute nerve of it... a week of care down the drain... no regard..." Dust stopped walking, setting the basket down on the cloud-floor in front of her. Like everything else in a pegasus village, it had been enchanted not to fall through the clouds, so it was safe. So long as she didn't accidentally spill the steaming pastries onto a hospital floor. "What's going on?" Dust asked, to nopony in particular. "I just came to see how the kid was doing..." At once, four pairs of eyes turned on her. For a second she could see their hostility reflected there, redirected from whatever had caused it to her. Then they seemed to recognize her, and the moment passed. "Ask her." Dr. Penumbra pointed into one of the empty hospital rooms with one wing, its door hanging half ajar. "Storms in here, 'authority of the crowning' her way over my medical advice. Using Neuromancy on a foal..." he kept talking, lowering his voice below what Dust could make out. She was confident he'd started cursing. So that's what the carriage was about, Dust found herself thinking, but she didn't say so out loud. It was more than a little unusual to find a privately chartered chariot of pegasus ponies anywhere in Stormshire. "On the kid?" Dust asked, feeling her whole body tense. A few flickers of static electricity ran down her mane to the end of her tail, making it stand on end. "The one I brought in?" "Yeah," Healing touch muttered, her eyes wide with shock. "Poor filly's in a right state." That was all Dust needed to hear. She stormed past the doctor and the nurse, throwing the empty hospital door wide open. What she found inside was... not quite what she'd expected. A single member of the Solar Guard waited just inside the doorway, looking bored in his gold armor. Just behind them, a large metal crate rested on the examination table, most of its sides removed. A single unicorn pony stood on the clouds beside it, levitating an object inside. Dust recognized it at once as one of the two objects the filly had come in with, at least the ones they'd managed to save. "Excuse me," she said very loudly, ignoring the angry stares of the guard. "That doesn't belong to you." The unicorn turned to face her, every bit as smug as the whole collective race. She wasn't an impressive specimen, eyes behind a pair of broken glasses and her mane a little frizzy, but there was something dangerous about her expression. "Who let you in here?" The pony asked, her tone harsh. Dust ignored the question. "I'm the one who saved that pony," she said, gesturing out the door with her wing. "Here I am come to check on her, and you..." her eyes narrowed. "that's her’s." She didn't even bother hiding her anger. "Give it back." The guard rose to his full height, side-stepping towards the unicorn. He didn't raise his spear, which still leaned against his side, but the gesture was obvious all the same. "You don't know what you're involved with, pony," the unicorn said. "The pony in the other room has put this entire town in danger. She is lucky to be alive." Dust tensed even more, if it were possible. Seeing ponies who didn't deserve it punished because the "safety" of others had been threatened was all too a familiar feeling for her. "You mean because she could've drowned? That was a lucky break for her. Lucky my weather patrol was passing that way." "No, no!" the unicorn gestured through the air with one hoof, frustrated. "Look, I'm sorry this is difficult for you. I'm sorry this bothers the doctors. But the fate of one pony is less important than what happens to all of us." She lowered her voice to a dangerous whisper, holding up the object she'd taken. It looked as unimpressive to Lightning Dust as it had the day she'd first seen it. "This object is extremely dangerous. There is..." she lowered her voice still further. "Look, pony. I don't know who you are, and there's only so much I can tell you." She levitated the object back into the heavy metal crate, resting it on the padding inside. "Tell me what you can," Dust said, her voice as low and threatening as she could make it. "Because if you don't, I might just have to report a thief to Mayor Ledger." The unicorn rolled her eyes, as infuriatingly superior as ever a unicorn could be. "Fine, pony. If that's the way you want this to be. But I want your name first." "Lightning Dust," she said. It didn't matter that anypony who wanted to could find enough information on her to destroy her life in this little town. Any unicorn outsider who was important enough to have the escort of a Solar Guardspony would be important enough to do that, if she wanted. But Dust didn't care--not after what had happened to the child. I put her here because I thought she'd be safe, and now I find out this is happening... "Well, Lightning Dust, let's just say... there is a dangerous faction living out in the Badlands. We have encountered them a few times before--perhaps you'll recall the Canterlot invasion." Dust nodded begrudgingly. "I read the papers." "Good," the unicorn said, though her condescending tone hadn't changed. "Dodge City has been reporting strange things for the last several years. The thefts of small objects, unexplainable sights in the night, and six months ago, the..." she shook her head. "I'm not at liberty to say. Let me just say that ponies died, Miss Lightning Dust. Many others got sick, and to my knowledge they are still sick." she pointed with one hoof at the object. "This... device... is just like the ones that we discovered... in relation to one of the previous incidents. The only means we have found to prevent injury is to encase these objects in lead and leave them far away from ponies. When I bring this back, the princess of Friendship herself is likely to get involved. Do you know how serious that is, Lightning Dust?" Dust found her wings deflating, falling limply to her sides. While it was true that she didn't trust the authorities, making claims that ponies had been killed, claims that could be easily verified given she'd provided the name of the nearby town where the events had occurred. Well, that was enough that Dust found herself bereft of anything to say. "S-she has..." she found herself stammering. "The pony in there, she had another object we managed to save. A small wood and metal thing..." "Oh yes," the unicorn waved a hoof dismissively. She'd already turned back to the box, raising the metal walls one at a time and securing them with straps. "I already examined it. It lacks the... traits necessary to cause the little filly harm. The filly can keep it. I am not a cruel pony, Lightning Dust. I promise to do everything in my power to spare this child further pain. I have already noted in my report she should not be contacted again as part of this investigation. The information her file provided about the location she was discovered will be sufficient for the royal inquiry, I am sure of it. And if not, I'll make sure a more sensitive pony than myself is sent to question her. A foal psychologist, with all the correct qualifications." Even as she heard it, Dust heard the contradictions. The slime, the ulterior motives, the deception she had come to know so well from these authorities was back again. She had heard that same tone when she was dismissed from the Wonderbolts. She knew full well the real reason she'd been thrown out. It didn't matter that she'd made a mistake, it only mattered because of the ponies who had been the "victims" of her mistake. "I see," Dust glared at her one last time, then took a step back. "I am... sorry to have inconvenienced a royal investigation." The pony shrugged one shoulder. "Very well then. Good day." It was a dismissal, and Dust wasn't about to refuse. She hurried from the room, returning to the basket of pastries she had left in the hall. She could only help something tasty would make up for what the filly had suffered today. * * * Many kilometers away, the Forerunner Probe continued polling at James’s destroyed transmitter. It received no response, just as it hadn’t for the last 24 days. The addition of the last few hours were exactly enough to trip one last node in its neural network. Probability of Instance_James_Irwin_G3.01 deceased 81%. Acceptable threshold passed. Contingency activated. The probe had spent all of its spare resources over the last two weeks identifying the reason generation 3 had been created at such an apparently young age. It didn’t have a solution yet, but it was close. By the time a newly instanced generation reached that stage in their growth, it would have the solution. There was, therefore, nothing preventing it from proceeding to the next contingency. G4.01 instantiated. New generation includes required improvements to biological maturity for increased emotional stability and versatility. A Forerunner Probe did not have any attachment to a specific mission strategy. If the mission took a hundred attempts, it wouldn’t complain. The probe could keep iterating until it got things right. Probability of stage 2 subtask success with singular crew member has dropped below acceptability threshold of 9%. G4.02, G4.03, G4.04, G4.05 instantiated. Five of the six biofabricators began to hum quietly in the darkened interior of the underground base, a new name appearing on the screen in each one. Martin Faraday, Karl Nolan, Olivia Fischer, Dorothy Born, James Irwin.