• Published 30th Jun 2021
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The Children of Planet Earth - Chicago Ted



An exploration of linguistic xenohippology.

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Chapter 20 - Phoning Home

Once Twilight and Sulfoyarqa stripped off his garments, they hosed off his sweaty stench rather harshly outside, where they also left his suit to air out. The process was not a pleasant experience for him – he had forgotten about the typical ambient temperatures of the planet, so the water he was bathed in was freezing cold. Still, he endured it, even as the water reached literally every inch of his skin. This is going to be the death of me, he remembered thinking.

Once that was done, and he was starting to warm up back inside Sulfoyarqa’s house (he noticed that, while he was able to duck down at a much deeper angle, the lack of life support on his back meant that it wasn’t necessary), he let the yellow pegasus examine him, noting the leathery texture of the palms of his hands – which Twilight also felt for herself – and his ‘shaven’ exterior, save for the top of his head and around his face, which was something he also needed to deal with. He didn’t remember the last time he shaved his face, except it was likely well over three years ago, as cryostasis halted that process in the meantime.

At the same time, he also examined the two – physically, with his hands, no titanium separating them any longer. Twilight’s fur was very soft, almost like a cat. Maybe ‘Andir’ wasn’t so far off the mark after all. The hair of her mane and tail was a lot coarser, but without the telltale texture of hair dye. The same applied to her hindquarter mark – though she didn’t let him examine that for too long. Bad touch?

He also felt her horn, and noted how it was made from almost solid keratin. She started giggling as he apparently tickled its corkscrew groove – from base to tip, it was about three-and-a-quarter counterclockwise twists. Though there’s definitely some variation in a population. And Sulfoyarqa’s wings were stiffer than he figured, though he could tell they were well-preened. She was too shy to let him keep touching them, however.

Since he still had trouble with some words, he asked Sulfoyarqa, through Twilight, if she had a razor he could borrow. She seemed confused, but decided to help him anyway. Once he got his international-orange jumpsuit on, and his hairless skin and unmentionables hidden away from view, she showed him to her bathroom toward the rear of the cottage. From a box set under the sink, she pulled out some electrical clippers – unlike what he saw at the hospital in Kãtṛlat, this one was a lot larger, meant to be manipulated in hooves.

Despite its size, it didn’t have as much heft in Adam’s hands as he thought. The power switch was easy to identify – a lever on the top, which when pulled back switched the clippers on. These are clearly meant for shaving fur before surgery, he thought. Overkill for what I need.

But he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter – if he wanted a shave, this was what he would use. Using the mirror for guidance, he started trimming off his hair, not quite neatly, as close to the base of his skin as his nerves would allow, and somehow managed to do a neat job. Once he got over the fear of accidentally nicking himself, he managed to get it down to some half-decent stubble – though he did not doubt that it could be refined later on.

For now, it would have to do.

After that calm yet historic introduction, he bade Sulfoyarqa goodbye, and almost embarked his suit by reflex. He stopped himself when he saw that there was no longer a point – and though the suit had been airing outside for some time, it still had the remnants of his sweat coating the interior. He sealed it up by hand, then Twilight flashed a wave of violet light over it. “It’s back at your house,” she explained.

“My house?”

She laughed. “Your house! It’s made of metal and came from the sky.”

Oh, the lander. “Right, my house.” Sure, let’s go with it.

Despite having warmed up indoors, Adam found himself shivering just a bit as he went along outside. He was starting to miss the rank warmth of the Strauss, but knew that it was best that he leave it behind. Not that it would serve me much use, now that I’ve breached the barrier.

They hadn’t even reached Ginzol’s central square when they ran into Cesel. Her dramatically-curled violet locks looked well-maintained, as though she had them done just an hour ago, which was more than what he could say of the scraggy remains of his beard. “Hõ Edem!” she exclaimed at the human, before bursting out in a stream of Ơhqer too dense for him to understand.

Thankfully Twilight knew enough English to interpret. “She says she’s happy to see you out of the. . . space-suit, but thinks that this clothes – ” indicating his jumpsuit – “is worse.” After another stream of words, she added, “She wants to give you something else to wear.”

“What’s wrong with this?” he asked. Is orange not my color?

Riweley nṛdj mưlzḷ almu?” she relayed to Cesel. She interpreted the resulting reply as it went, “Apparently red suits like yours are not. . . what is the word?”

“‘Proper?’” he suggested.

“Yes, proper, thank you!” she replied.

Apparently Cesel couldn’t wait a single moment longer to explain to Adam why a ‘red’ jumpsuit like his would not cut it, so she took him up into her own telekinesis – admittedly not as strong as Twilight’s, but serviceable in its own right – and together the duo disappeared down the road.

·–·–·–

Ten minutes later, Adam finally put down his right arm. Naturally, there was simply no conceivable way Cesel was able to throw together such well-tailored clothes at a moment’s notice without some sort of local template – so he would have to serve as that template for her. Clearly she did not want him to stay the whole time – if he had to guess, she wanted to surprise him with her eventual design.

He’d have to stay in his ‘red’ clothing in the meantime.

As she jotted down the final figures on a pad of paper, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was starting to get tired of all the tingling on his skin from where Cesel’s telekinetic fields brushed against him. And then he started worrying about the cost. She’d want me to pay in advance, wouldn’t she? And I wasn’t planning on buying anything, he realized – meaning all of my dege is left back at the lander!

Ridege al. . . .” he tried to ask her, before stumbling over what grammatical number he should use. I don’t know how many pieces it’ll be. One? Two? More?

Ơzơz!” she insisted. “Pixṛseyse almiza!

Adam didn’t get what that one root was, but heard her use the paucal number. You idiot! He simply bowed and left Cesel’s shop, with a quick “Xurucru,” vowing someday to pay her back.

Twilight had apparently been waiting outside for him. “There you are, Adam!” she said. “Will you go home now?”

“Thank you, Twilight – and yes, I will.” Adam set on the road away from the ornately-decorated building – before quickly realizing that the violet unicorn wasn’t tagging along with him.

“Over here, Adam!” she called from his right. “You’re going the wrong way!”

Leave it to her to catch that mistake. . . . Adam quickly doubled back, checking his left to find her, and found her at the next turn. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m still not completely familiar with Ginzol.”

She giggled. “You have not been to Cesel’s shop, have you?”

He shook his head. “No, I haven’t.” He sighed, and watched his breath fog up in front of him. “Those clothes must cost a lot.”

“No, they won’t,” she insisted. “Didn’t you hear her?”

Um. . . . “Yes,” he admitted, “but I did not understand. She used a word I had never heard before – pixṛse.” He made sure to get the click right, even though both Cesel and Twilight used voiceless nasals in their places.

“A pixṛse is a thing you give,” Twilight defined, “but you don’t want a thing back.”

Adam stopped right in his tracks. His eyes went wide. Oh. . . .Gift,” he translated. “She will give me a gift.” Of course – it’s literally a giving-thing.

“A gift,” she echoed, committing the new word to memory.

“Why?” he had to ask. “Nothing was wrong with my clothes before.”

“Is that right?” she asked him, head tilted upwards to face him. “You shook. Were you cold?”

Wait. . . . Adam looked down at his hands – sure enough, while his fingers were still exposed to the cold naked air, they weren’t shaking at all. Neither was the rest of him, for that matter. The jumpsuit was adapted to living constantly inside an enclosed, isolated space, like the lander or Zodiac-Altair – and as such, was made to be breathable. Without it, Rhysling’s piercing cold struck him, harder than it had when he was hosed down not a few hours earlier. He felt the jumpsuit’s fabric in his fingers, noting the polymer fibers – strong and fireproof, yet they let the cold in. I’d say I’ll need a coat at least – she was awfully generous.

But then again. . . he remembered seeing some particularly ornate designs mounted on equine mannequins while he was in her shop. Most of what he saw had inlaid gems – meaning they were about as commonplace as he had assumed. They must be, if they had enough to spare for Elzơ to eat on the daily. Come to think of it. . . they don’t normally wear clothes, do they? The only exceptions were mere accessories. There was Nyeledirve, who wore her hat when working on her family’s farm, and her younger sister Nyeledjưge, who wore a bow in her mane. There was also a gray equine in town who had a bow tie.

In Kãtṛlat, the doctors and nurses at the hospital wore white coats and scrubs, and the guards escorting him there wore plated armor. Clothing, it seems, wasn’t much of a necessity in Ơhesti. Every example he had seen was more of a protective measure than a means of keeping their modesty. Which, in Adam’s case, meant protection from the cold – so his usage wasn’t too inappropriate.

They took a left turn – first her, with him following – and found themselves at the market. On the upside, this meant Adam could easily find his way back to the lander from here. On the downside, with most of the town gathered here, it meant they would see Adam in the flesh, without any barrier between him and them. He anticipated mass hysteria from the crowd.

Instead, none of them seemed to fly into a panic. Some of them even approached him, to get a closer look at the resident human, now deshelled. A few took cautious sniffs of his jumpsuit and hands, or even nuzzled up with him. They didn’t seem to care about the fact that their interstellar visitor was no longer bound inside a metal garment. But then, he remembered, Twilight’s approval means I’m safe.

He looked down at Twilight, who merely shrugged. He breathed deeply, and started walking into the throng of equines. As he got into the thick of it, he felt like he was less walking and more wading through them, as they only came up to his chest at best. Some of them, with whom he was familiar, he could easily pick out. There was his boss, Nowu-Gizũzḷ, who waved at Adam. He waved back, then saw that one wall-eyed pegasus mare, whose name he still did not know, still with her mailbag.

He also ran into that gray mare with a pink bow tie, though they’d never met before. “Hõ Edem!” she greeted. “Goã bḷd teþelþư!” And as he waved at her, she started whistling a tune to him. But not just any tune – it took Adam a moment to realize what that tune was – “Sakura.” Did she hear it from that stallion? he wondered. Did he like it that much? As she completed the fourth measure, he replied by whistling the fifth and sixth in sequence.

“I haven’t heard that before,” Twilight commented. “Do you really have the gift of ḷrữ?

Adam raised an eyebrow, still wading through the crowd. “Who is Ḷrữ?” he asked her.

She burst out laughing, drawing even more stares in the process. “Ḷrữ isn’t a who-thing – it’s a what-thing!” she said. “It’s something you do, it’s something you say.”

Pardon?

“Like this?” And though Adam had a bit of trouble following along with her words, it was the specific intonations that told him she was singing. ‘Ḷrữ’ – that means ‘music.’ Did she ask me if I had the. . . gift of music?

Then again, to him, it wasn’t like music was uniquely human on Earth. Bird calls were frequently described as musical as far back as antiquity. One would be hard-pressed to find a single culture that didn’t know about birds singing in the dawn. At the same time, he hadn’t been sure if the Indigenous themselves were capable of music at first – that is, until he met the stallion at the barber. Remarkably, a good portion of their audible range was in the same range as a human being’s.

Oh, right, before I forget. . . .Music,” he told her. “We call it music.

Myoo-zick,” she pronounced, slowly, as though the first syllable was giving her trouble. “Myoo-zick. That one’s hard.”

“You’ll get used to it.” As they were exiting the square, he looked up and saw Ħṛylilufa – or at least, her rainbow-hued tail – resting upon an overhead cloud, although she didn’t seem to see either of them. Yes, a singular one, about her size, hanging so low over the ground it was almost fog to him. But he had to remember, pegasi like her could manipulate these clouds, as easily as he could manipulate clay, molding them into whatever shapes were needed and, to some extent, imbuing whatever properties were needed for the job – or so Twilight told him when they were studying weather.

Finally, they were out of the weekly market crowd, and well on their way outside of Ginzol altogether.

–·–·–

“It’s been two hours since we’ve had radio contact with Dr. Somerset,” Commander Darcy told Elena. “With all due respect, Weiss, were you absolutely certain of your findings?”

She nodded firmly. “Yes, sir. He should not run into any trouble as a result of disembarking – and neither shall the rest of us.” She sighed, looking away. “I realize you are anxious, commander. You haven’t heard from him, so you are assuming the worst. But I am confident, knowing him, that he or Antir would contact us once either of them reaches the lander. Speaking of – ” she turned back to face him – “you did override the biological protections, ja?

“Yes, yes I did.” He tapped the screen behind him. “First thing I did when Dr. Konstantinov told me Somerset did just that – I rushed back to the bridge and held up my end of the deal.” He chuckled. “I would’ve let Anton do that for me, since I was in the middle of a bath, but that process requires the commander’s authorization specifically. So I had to rush in there – ”

He never finished his thought, but Elena knew enough to burst out laughing. “I think I was in the gym when that happened,” she added. “Ja, genau, I heard a great commotion outside in the Zodiac hub, and Anton shouting in Russian, and – and – ” She broke down in laughter at her unspoken words, before it ended abruptly in coughing. “I do not envy you, sir.”

“And he seemed unfazed himself,” he continued. “But then, he’s put all of us into the cold sleep. I should think he’s seen it all.” He cleared his throat. “Yet I still can’t help but worry about him. He’s the only one with knowledge of the horses’ language. . . .”

“I know, sir, and I’m worried too,” Elena responded. “You’re welcome to try hailing him now, but I don’t think he’ll be able to hear it, or respond.”

“It’s still worth a try.” He grabbed the radio. “This is Zulu-Alfa attempting to contact Dr. Adam Somerset,” he opened. “Somerset, if you can hear this, please respond at once. You have mentioned that you have exited your EVA suit at this time, and we want to know your current status. Over.” He set the radio down – seemingly not expecting a response at once.

“Like I said,” Elena concluded, “he wouldn’t hear it.”

The commander looked down at his watch, and noted the time. “Time for me to sleep,” he announced aloud. “Dr. Weiss, you have the bridge. If Dr. Somerset does respond, let me know at once – even if you have to wake me up to tell me.”

Jawohl.

“Thanks.” With that, he pushed off the ceiling and out the bridge, turning to head in the direction of the sleeping bags.

Elena, meanwhile, kept her eyes on the myriad points of data retrieved from Rhysling’s surface. She was sure, after weeks of intensive analysis, that interaction, while inevitable, was inconsequential. Their microörganisms couldn’t affect Terrestrial life, nor vice versa. This was true at the genetic level – and their life was composed of the same elements, molecules, and so forth as on Earth. They can breathe the same air, and the oxygen-producing organisms can easily convert their carbon dioxide into breathable oxygen. They could easily survive here, likely without any of the nutrients they had brought with them.

Now it was the political aspect of Rhysling that they had to overcome. That included their language – and that was Dr. Somerset’s area of expertise. He would have to prove himself to the horses’ political bodies, possibly earn some sort of citizenship, and negotiate a site where the colony would be founded.

But time was not on their side. Supplies, as abundant as they were, were still limited – food, water, scrubbers, and other things besides. Any day now, Commander Darcy could start rationing out their supplies. She had at least done her work – and she was sure she would be locked back into cryo to buy the two men awake aboard some time.

She remembered the process – and it sent a shiver down her spine. Not merely from the cold, either – though that was a major factor. Though she was ashamed to admit it, she was afraid of needles – and the glucose analogues used to keep her body insulated needed to be fed intravenously.

But time would tell whether that would come to pass.

–··–·

When Adam and Twilight arrived at the lander, he found the suit deposited leaning against one of the lander’s legs, back still facing out. He was surprised to see a mailbox as well, in front of the metal structure. He didn’t remember seeing that there when he left. “Who put this here?” he asked her. He knew how to ask that question in Ơhqer – “Rikeley sula sehe cupahu?” – but ever since she started learning English, she only ever spoke to him in that language. Whether she wanted to make sure he understood or she simply enjoyed speaking English, he didn’t know.

“It was Gugḷzimba,” Twilight said. “She is our messenger. She said you should get your mail yourself, instead of with me.”

Makes sense. Wait, who’s that again? Adam raised an eyebrow. “Gugḷzimba – she’s the one with the eyes that, well. . . .” He couldn’t move his eyes in different directions, but he used his fingers to demonstrate it.

She got the idea, and nodded. “Yes, and please don’t tell it to her. She doesn’t like it.”

Yeah, I figured she’d be sensitive over that. “Alright.” Once he grabbed the pouch that had his money, Adam then turned his attention to the lander – and more importantly, its suitport, which by design was the only way in and out of the structure. He sighed. “It’ll be hard for me to use that doorway. It’s much smaller than we’re used to.”

“Is it?” Twilight blinked herself up onto the scaffolding – whereas Adam was left to climb up after her. “It’s just right for me. Can I open it?”

“I don’t know.” Once his head poked over the bottom of the scaffolding, he got a better view of the suitport – noting the several ultraviolet and heat lamps that lined its interior, meant to keep the two biospheres separated by germicide. It worked with the Terrestrial stuff – whether it worked with the Rhyslinger stuff, noöne really knew, but at least Adam knew that none of it was truly necessary. Of course, only time could tell. “I think it’s still locked. Let me try it first.”

He cautiously placed his hand on the lamps, ready to retract it at the slightest pain. But no, he found it was cool and smooth to the touch. The bulbs of the lamps were durable – necessarily so, to survive regular use away from Earth. He then applied pressure to the door, pushing it inward – and found that it barely budged. Must be the hydraulic action. With this in mind, he started pushing harder on the door, outright leaning against it with his shoulder.

Sensing his struggle, Twilight pitched in with a telekinetic boost, applying it to the side opposite the hinges. With both of them focusing on it, the door eventually started to give, hinging open bit by bit until it revealed the lander’s cluttered interior. I should probably tidy up the place at some point.

Getting in was tricky, albeit less so than in its normal operation. He was used to climbing in backwards, bending back and reaching up to a metal bar at the top of the inside frame. It stood to reason that the best way to get inside, until he could figure something out, was to copy those same motions. He lined up his back with the opened suitport, leaned back, and scanned his eyes across the resulting view. There! He reached up and grabbed the bar, and hoisted himself up. He got his butt up onto the lower edge of the suitport, then scooted himself inside the capsule – where he swung his left leg, then his right, properly inside.

That could’ve gone better. “Do you need help getting inside, Twilight?”

“No.” She lit her horn – and blinked herself inside, phasing through the walls of the lander. Or did the open doorway allow for that to happen now? “It’s bigger than I thought,” she commented.

That’s what she said, he almost blurted out.

“What is this?” she asked, pointing to the soap bottles underneath the cot.

Soap,” he pronounced. “I use it to clean myself.” And if I had thought ahead, I would’ve brought some of these with me to Sulfoyarqa’s place.

“Soap,” she copied. She grabbed the shampoo in her telekinetic grip, snapped open the cap when she spotted the tab, and smelled it. The scent made her cough. “How is this good to you!?” she asked when she caught her breath.

He shrugged. “It just is.” Come to think of it, I don’t think it had much of a scent. Either we humans don’t have the receptors for it, or I simply didn’t care about it at all.

She snapped the cap back shut, and replaced it under the cot. “What is that there?” She pointed her hoof into the cargo hold.

Adam leaned his head to get a better look at what she was indicating. “Cargo,” he answered. “I keep my things there. Things to eat, things to use to wash, things to use to fix, things to fix myself if I get hurt. . . many-many things.”

“Like this?” She fished a packet of dehydrated oatmeal mix from one of the crates.

“Yes, that is to eat.” I’d demonstrate it for her, but that would be wasteful. I’ll just describe it. “You know that already.”

“I see.” She set the packet back inside the crate – when she got a better look inside them. “A lot of these are empty.”

Ah, the waste. “I know – I’ve already eaten them.”

“. . . and you do not have many left,” she added.

He sighed. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll be fine.”

“Adam. . . .” She turned to face him. “You will not have enough to live here. What else can you eat? Surely nothing we have in Ơhesti.”

“You might be surprised.” A smirk played across his face. “We have been looking into that problem – using that machine outside.” He pointed at the probe, still powered on with its battery and dutifully awaiting its next orders. “As it turns out, we can eat much of the same things as you do here.”

Her eyes went wide. “The same? Exactly the same?”

“Not exactly the same,” he answered. “We eat meat also – you saw by the teeth in the book.”

She shuddered. “Will you eat me?” she asked, facing him – as though she felt she had to ask.

“No! Never!” He frantically shook his head. “That will never happen, Twilight. Never.Oh God, why would I even put the idea into my head?

She sighed – deciding apparently to drop that line of thought. Then she pointed to the desk, which was littered with the usual paraphernalia – pens and paper, the Ơhqer textbook, a bag of dege coins, that red gemstone Elzơ gave him so long ago, and many other things she couldn’t possibly name. She started with one black, dull, and well-used instrument. “What is that?” She pointed it out to Adam.

“This?” Adam picked up the radio.

“Yes.”

“This is a radio.” He brought it up to Twilight so she could get a better look at it. “I use it to talk to other people.” He pointed straight up. “They’re waiting to come down to here with me.”

Twilight’s telekinetic grip started to appear on the tuner dial. He put his hand over it. “Don’t touch that,” he told her – and the field dissipated. It had taken a few weeks for Dr. Weiss to figure out the ‘safe’ frequencies that didn’t give unicorns like Twilight headaches; he did not need her to start fiddling around.

She stepped aside, went past him and up to the suitport, where she craned her neck to look straight up at the afternoon sky. “How high up?” She pulled her head back inside the capsule. “I can’t see them.”

“So high up, you can’t see them. Especially not in the day.” He set the radio back on its shelf. “But you could at night – if you have. . . .” Uh-oh. Gotta explain a new word. “. . . a telescope.”

She tilted her head in predicable confusion. “What is telescope?”

Yep, called it. “A telescope lets you see things from far away.” He closed his hands into curled fists, lining them up along a single eye. “You use it like this.”

“Te-less-cope,” she pronounced it. Weird, but it does line up with Ơhqer at least.Eyḷteþelkesjer.

Adam could recognize the verb for seeing in the word, but the rest was gibberish to him. Well, harmonic gibberish at least.

“We have those,” Twilight added. “I have one at the library. Maybe we could see them this night?”

“Maybe.” He nodded. “If we’re lucky.”

Suddenly, he saw the radio dart past the corner of his eye – but it couldn’t get very far, as it was attached with an electrical cord. “Can we talk to them?” Twilight asked. “Right now?” She apparently wanted to use it, but found she had to be at the desk for that to happen.

“Sure.” He nodded. “But let me talk to them first. They don’t like surprises.”

·–·

Elena was terribly bored.

It had been two hours since Commander Darcy had checked out for sleep, and in that time the radio in the bridge had remained perfectly silent. Not a peep from Dr. Somerset – nor Dr. Konstantinov, for that matter.

She wondered what he was up to. Resigning herself to find him, if only to kill some time, she nudged herself away from her terminal, then ‘walked’ along the surface of the ship, twisting her waist as she exited the bridge. Ahead of her was the rotating Zodiac habitat – if he wasn’t in the central hub, she had twelve more guesses to work with.

With one good thrust off the rounded edge of the passageway, she sailed out of Altair and into Zodiac. He wasn’t here – so he had to be in one of the modules. She used her hearing to try to pinpoint just which module he was in. All was quiet for a few moments – then he heard what sounded like keys being pressed in Cryogenic Rack C – in Scorpio. Right now, the entrance to that module, along with Libra and Sagittarius, was right below her, as the entire superstructure rotated around her.

She dove down to the entrance, letting the artificial gravity gently scoop her up and guide her to a new down. The pull eventually brought her to the wall near the ladder – from there, it was a simple affair of climbing down each rung of the ladder.

She didn’t have to go down too far before she found the cryogenicist checking over the vitals for C9 – whoëver that was. “Anton,” she greeted. “Hard at work, as always.”

Da, eto pohože na pravdu, i. . . .” he muttered to himself, clearly absorbed into something much more important than talking to one of his colleagues – then he looked up and to the source of the other voice. “Elena,” he returned. “Anything to tell me?”

“No, Anton. Just wondering where you were.” She sighed. “The commander has asked me to watch the radio on the bridge, just in case Dr. Somerset would contact us.”

“Is something wrong?” He raised an eyebrow. “He should contact us whenever he needs. If not from TPRU-1, then from Strauss.”

“Well, that’s just it!” Elena took a breath. “Commander Darcy has given him the order to abandon his suit. From what I can tell, he has done just that – but without either his suit or the lander, he has no way of contacting us, therefore he has not done so.”

But Dr. Konstantinov simply nodded and turned back to his work. Suddenly, he jerked his head up. “So it has happened?” he asked. “Somerset is out of his suit!?”

“Were you not paying attention?” she asked. “I just said that!”

Ohrenet'!” He lurched up. “Is he alright? Tell me, Doctor!”

“We still do not know yet. Which is why Commander Darcy has asked me to watch – ” And then she realized her mistake. “The bridge! He may contact us yet! I am sorry Anton, but I must leave you now!” She went back to the ladder and started climbing back up into Zodiac’s central hub.

She reached the outer wall of the hub, and leap-frogged off the surface in the direction of the Russian half. Once she was in, she looked around, and twisted herself to the right, when she noticed the unmistakable entrance to the bridge.

All was quiet there when she arrived. Not a sound emitted from the radio to disturb the peace.

All was not quiet to Elena, however – her heart was pounding in her ears, all from entering and leaving a gravitated environment so soon, from the effort she expended to get there and back again, and from the nervousness that she may have missed something vital.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She yelped and thrust away from the threat – only to kick Dr. Konstantinov back out of the bridge by accident. Unbeknownst to her, he had been following right behind her. “Anton!” she called out. “Oh, it’s just you, I’m so sorry.”

He waited until his body hit the far side of the hull, then leapfrogged back into the bridge. “It is not the first,” he said. He looked around. “Where is Darcy?”

“He’s sleeping.” She crossed her arms and sighed. “And it gets boring to wait here by myself.” She glanced up by the radio, still dead from the lack of activity. “If I did not know better, I would say he is dead.”

“How?” Dr. Konstantinov asked. “If it is not from some Rhyslinger sickness, then what? Did the Indigenous kill him?”

Elena’s mind flashed with macabre images of Dr. Somerset’s possible execution – his corpse paraded through town, his head specifically on a pike, as they cheered the slaying of the monster – but put them aside for the time being. Now was not the time to get worked up. If Dr. Somerset truly was dead, the Indigenous named Antir would clarify that, as it had earlier with his near death by CO2.

“I don’t know, Anton. I really don’t know.”

But she got her answer within the moment: “This is Somerset to Zulu-Alfa, come in, over.

She darted her head to the radio when she heard his voice come in. Then to the cryogenicist’s. “Go wake up the commander, and right away!”

He nodded firmly, and shoved off and out the bridge.

“Stand by, Somerset – we’re getting the commander right now.”

·–

“This is Somerset to Zulu-Alfa,” Adam opened his transmission, “come in, over.”

He set the radio down in his lap as he waited for the reply. It should be coming in any moment now; he just had to wait for that to happen. . . .

Stand by, Somerset,” Dr. Weiss’s voice came through within just a moment. “We’re getting the commander right now.

“Copy.” He set it back down into his lap.

“Can I speak now?” Twilight asked.

“Not yet, they’re getting someone else.” He tapped his wrist, reflexively indicating a pretend watch. “They don’t want to miss this.”

“Oh.” Twilight sat down on her haunches, by his side, and waited with him.

He sighed. Of all times not to be there, he thought – why now? Dr. Weiss was on station, that’s nice, but – eh, I probably just caught him at a bad time.

Finally, after several minutes of waiting, he heard Commander Darcy’s voice crackle through the speakers of the radio – he sounded like he had been roused from a deep sleep. “This is Darcy. Pardon if I seem. . . out of it, l’ami, but I’m glad all the same that you managed to survive one of the hardest trials you have faced in your life so far. So what has happened so far? Over.

Even though Twilight seemed all too excited to get ahold of the radio to do the talking herself, she showed him enough restraint to stay seated still and wait for her turn – which worked just as well for Adam, who clearly had some explaining to do. “As soon as I stepped out of the suit,” he started, “they hosed me off with water – since the inside of the suit is just coated with sweat and. . . who knows what else. Once Tw – Ãtir teleported my suit back to the lander,” he continued over Twilight’s objections, “we walked the rest of the way back.” He looked down at her, and winked. “She’s right by my side, sir, and she wants to talk to you. Over.”

Does she now?” he asked. “But I don’t know a word de la langue d’Indigène. You will have to interpret everything after the fact, Dr. Somerset, you know that. Over.

“With all due respect, Commander,” he returned, “that isn’t necessary. She’s been helping me with learning their language – but in return, she wanted to learn English. It’s only been two weeks – ” or so he thought at least – “and she’s already very proficient. You’ll find you can understand each other just fine. Over.”

“De quessé,” the commander commented. “But then, she must be an exception, not the rule. We can’t expect them all to speak English when we arrive, can we? Over.

Adam looked down to Twilight – who firmly shook her head. “Negative, Commander,” he relayed. “But enough talk from me, I’m patching her into this call.” Finally, he passed it down to Twilight, who firmly took it up in her telekinetic grip.

She had been watching Adam operate the radio, and copied it exactly. “Hello,” she opened – unconventional, but it would get the job done. “Can you hear me?”

Yes, Ãtir, we can hear you,” he answered. “What would you like to tell us?” Adam couldn’t help but notice that the commander dropped the usual radio etiquette – perhaps he thought it would be less confusing for her? he hypothesized. But then, she heard me use those same words. Surely she would get their usage, especially since she had heard all of those words before!

“I’d like to send a message to Earth,” she replied. “For all to hear. Can you do that?”

Absolutely, yes,” the commander affirmed. “Just give me a moment.” Adam knew that moment was needed to start recording her conversation to transmit to Earth. A live broadcast was too risky for the moment – both on a technical level, and a political one. “Go ahead, Ãtir – start talking.

Adam could only sit and watch as Twilight made her speech, using every English word she had ever learned, and some he didn’t remember teaching her.

··–··

“Absolutely, yes – just give me a moment.” Louis pressed the ‘record’ button on a tape machine hooked up to the radio.

“Is this going to work?” Dr. Weiss asked.

Chut!” he hushed. “We’re starting.” He grabbed the radio again. “Go ahead, Ãtir – start talking.”

And she started speaking:

Hello to the children of planet Earth. I am Twilight Sparkle, a citizen of the Harmonic Empire. I live here in a town named Ginzol, with my dragon-assistant Spike, in a library carved inside of a tree. I am the personal student of Yere Kisữ of Kãtṛlat, to whom I send my reports every week, from my studies on magic.

During the last week of the greening-moon, the Harmonic Empire received the first person from Earth. He is Adam Somerset, and he studies language. He was sent here to learn the Harmonic-Voice, a task we had also required of him when we learned of his intent – of his kind’s intent – to live in the Harmonic Empire with us. I, Twilight Sparkle, have been called upon to teach Adam the Harmonic-Voice – and have been fortunate enough to be taught the English-Voice. Neither of us are perfect in either voice, but I have learned and heard enough to send greetings on behalf of the beings of the Harmonic Empire to those of Earth.

You see yourself as insignificant in the unchanging stars, but to us – to me, at least – you make up one of the most important parts of the night sky. The simple act, however monumental it may be, of building an enormous ship, to take your first steps from your home to visit ours, the one you call Rhysling – that has given me hope that we may not have to face the stars alone, but instead with each other.

May we speak again, and many times after that.

Even after the radio fell silent, not a single soul dared to make a sound to disturb such sacred tranquility. A moment later, Louis did dare – by stopping the recording, so Zodiac-Altair would not end up transmitting so much closing silence.

Neverojatno,” Dr. Konstantinov breathed out almost silently. For all the things he surely wanted to say, he regrettably could not find the will, nor the words, to speak them.

Louis sighed – knowing that speaking was still necessary, even now – especially to one person in particular. “Thank you, Miss Twilight Sparkle,” he said over the radio. “I will be sending your voice back to Earth. We all wish to meet you soon. Adam still needs to do a few things, however. Mostly, he needs to find us land – land we can call our own. Until that happens, we fear we cannot live with the Harmonic Empire.” He suppressed the urge to end it with ‘over,’ as his training demanded.

Her reply was immediate. “I will send a letter to Yere Kisữ at once. She and Adam will begin talking about that problem as soon as possible. I hope the outcome will make both of us happy.

“I hope the same as well, Twilight. Thank you again for your words, and for your hard work. Goodbye.” He hung the radio receiver up, and started encoding the audio recording. “Remind me, Anton – what’s our next window for transmission?”

“About five minutes next, Commander,” Dr. Konstantinov replied. “But I think the recording is too long to transmit in one go. Dr. Weiss, what are your thoughts?” Only silence would intervene as an answer. “Elena?”

But the biologist wasn’t even paying attention – she kept her face glued to her work, her own studies. “‘Magic’?” she asked herself. “Wo hät sie das Wort glernt?

Author's Note:

Here’s something you might never have noticed until now: the unicorn Flash puppets used in the show don’t preserve the directionality of the twisting groove in their horns (it’ll flip-flop between clockwise if looking to their left, and counterclockwise if looking to their right). I picked a direction and went with it – but you’re free to switch this around as a genetic variable.

The number of twists on Twilight’s horn, 3¼, is also rounded up from 2ϕ.


Aha! You’ve caught a glimpse of Equestrian’s color categories. More to come when relevant.


The scene in Ponyville’s central square does reflect horse psychology. Apparently the phrase “monkey see, monkey do” isn’t exclusive to primates – horses also exhibit similar social behaviors.

Theirs works in a hierarchy, based on survival competency. You put two horses together, one farm-raised and naïve and the other a wild mustang, and fire off a gunshot behind them. The farmhorse will not reäct very much, but the mustang will immediately take off – prompting the farmhorse to do the same, because if the mustang’s running, it knows something the farmhorse doesn’t.

So seeing Twilight not panicking, and in fact chatting with a now-desuited Adam, should give the other ponies peace of mind.


Putting a mailbox in front of the lander was ultimately Admiral Biscuit’s idea – from a comment he made on Chapter 3 when he was prereading the story. He thought it would be “pretty funny” for Adam to find out the lander’s address that way.

Considering how long Adam’s been living in Equestria at this point, it was bound to happen anyway. Just because the Canterlot government didn’t recognize him as an Equestrian citizen doesn’t mean Ponyville wouldn’t. Besides, Twilight might have been getting tired of relaying his mail to him.


Which leads me into a tangent on address formatting. Believe it or not, this is not universal. If you’re from the United States, for instance, you might address mail thusly:

Norman Whatley
1427 Maple Avenue
Springfield, PN 17647
United States

Because only the United States Postal Service is traditionally allowed to deliver to P.O. boxes, some recipients insert a fourth line (between the second and third) containing their street address, allowing the sender to choose between USPS or a private carrier like UPS. Additionally, the country is only inserted when being sent from abroad (as is the case for all address methods).

In the United Kingdom, mail may be posted to an address like:

Sherlock Holmes
221B Baker Street
London
NW1 6XE
United Kingdom

(Yes, that’s a valid address. Feel free to write!)

A locality is sometimes inserted between the second and third to eliminate any ambiguity, e.g. Hedge End.

Addresses are formatted more or less the same between different nations on the European continent (even outside the European Union). Here’s an example for Germany:

Hans Schröder
Rottenstr. 7
02357 Überwald
Deutschland

Postal codes could be four or five digits, depending on the country. Optionally, an additional detail can be inserted to direct mail more precisely, e.g. Kundendienst (customer service).

Some countries have multiple formats depending on whether it is urban or rural. India is one such example – their urban addresses are formatted:

Jaya Singh
Accountant
A-104, Guru Apartments
2, Om Lane
Kurla
MUMBAI - 400000
Maharashtra
India

And their rural addresses formatted:

Jaya Singh
6, Narang Road
NILADIVA
District Suraya
380000
Gujarat
India

The state is optional in either one, but is typically marked anyway.

Perhaps my favorite is the format used in China, Taiwan, Japan, and Korea. Unlike what you’ve seen here before, these are formatted backwards – the largest division is put first, then with each successive line it becomes more and more specific until the person is named. Consider this example from Japan:

日本国
〒001-0000
北海道都札幌市豊平区山川2丁目3番5号
2階7号室
鈴木明様

Note that “Japan” (日本国) is listed first, but like the other examples is omitted if the destination is domestic. Also note that, if the address is translated from Japanese to English, the order is also ‘translated’ into the western order.

Hungary and Russia also format addresses this way. Hungary, however, puts the person first, and Russia omits the rajon and oblast' if the city is Moscow, St. Petersburg, or an administrative seat, e.g. Vladivostok.


And now for Twilight’s speech!

The first two sentences were in my head way before I actually wrote the rest of it. In fact, I was so laser-focused on those opening lines, that I frankly found myself drawing a blank for the rest.

Thankfully, the Voyager Golden Record came to the rescue. Part of the audio contents was then-U.N. Secretary-General Kurt Waldheim making a speech to any extraterrestrial listeners who might find the probe.

From Twilight’s point of view, she was accidentally echoing his words. Me? I made sure to hit a lot of key points this way.


Originally Twilight’s speech was much longer:

Hello to the children of planet Earth. I am Twilight Sparkle, a citizen of the Harmonic Empire. I live here in a town named Ginzol, with my dragon-assistant Spike, in a library carved inside of a tree. I am the personal student of Yere Kisữ of Kãtṛlat, to whom I send my reports every week, from my studies on magic.

During the last week of the greening-moon, the Harmonic Empire received the first person from Earth. His name is Adam Somerset, and he studies language. He was sent here to learn the Harmonic-Voice – a task we had also required of him, when we learned of his intent – of his kind’s intent – to live in the Harmonic Empire with us. I, Twilight Sparkle, have helped Adam learn the Harmonic-Voice – in exchange for him helping me learn the English-Voice. Neither of us are perfect in either voice, but I have learned and heard enough to send greetings on behalf of the beings of the Harmonic Empire to the beings of Earth.

You have greeted us in person – something we cannot do yet, so this is merely a small and humble reply. You see yourself as insignificant in the unchanging stars, but to us – to me, at least – you make up one of the most important parts of the night sky. We call upon you to teach, but hope you are humble enough to be taught as well.

For I have also learned some of his history. I understand why Adam was scared to tell me, to tell us all. You are not a peaceful kind. You fight, you steal, you kill – you cannot find it bearable to see life without conflict. Why, I ask? Why must you seek blood? Why do you shun harmony? Someday I may learn the answers to these and more, and someday you may as well – but this is not the point of my speaking to you.

Even in face of these flaws, we still wish to live with you, side-by-side, as the three tribes of the Harmonic Empire have lived side-by-side for generations beyond memory. The simple act, however monumental it may be, of building an enormous ship, to take your first steps from your home to visit ours, the one you call Rhysling – that has given me hope that we may live not in war, but in peace, with each other.

May we speak again, and many times after that.