THE FIRST MEETING
Energy particles danced in the vertical stream that Daan had ordered be flowing in front of his seat. The American Companion sat, rigid, on his orchid-shaped chair, in the middle of his audience chamber, taking one of the rare inoccupied moments that his crowded schedule granted him to watch the news. Agent Sandoval was at the other end of the room, a few feet across Major Kincaids desk, reviewing the security protocols, starting with the Washington central of taelon security.
The implants eye barely caught hold of the Companions frail form, at the extremity of its vision range. Daans fingers were moving in alien patterns on the arms of his chair correction: these motions would have seemed alien to someone unused to the company of a Taelon, but to him, they had grown more than familiar. Especially the movements of Daans fingers. Especially Daan himself.
When a nearly imperceptible change in Daans posture occured, a few meters from him, Sandovals head jerked up to attention, matter-of-factly he liked to think so. The Companion had smiled; from where he was the asian man could not glimpse of what was it that was presented in the news. He attempted to focus again on the task at hand, mantraing that he should not let himself be distracted by Daan, the days when he would have welcomed any distraction offered by this Taelon in particular, were over. But Daans melodious voice rose. World medias are rebroadcasting the initial retransmission of our arrival on Earth he said, seemingly musing aloud. Why is this? the alien inquired with a naivety that Sandoval suspected to be just another piece added to the puzzle of taelon manipulative tactics.
Sandoval paused, trying to think of an answer that would be both plausible and satisfying. Its been 1500 days since the Taelons landed on Earth, he said, looking only briefly at Daan, showing his desire not to have a pursued conversation with the most enigmatic of a race of mysterious aliens.
The Companion smiled a brief grin of disappointment. I am aware of this event Agent Sandoval. I was speaking of the human habit to show important events again on anniversary dates. Even events that are not specifically positive in nature, or generated by pride, the Taelon said, maybe refering to the New Souvenir day, celebrated a few weeks ago, on the date when United North America had declared war on China and India, while South America broke all economic bonds with the United States of Europe. Is it in commemoration?
The implant definitely looked up from his work. Partially. Its also out of rememberance. Daan tilted his head. To make sure all those who watch the program remember your presence on Earth, Sandoval clarified.
At this time, our presence on Earth had already been made quite obvious.
Sandoval smiled while his CVI flashed to him images from the time when Daan asked many apparently innocent questions like these, back when he was the only implant to serve him. Humans tend to be more convinced by what they see than by what they hear, and by what they know is happening than by what they know could happen, he answered, knowing he was being evasive, but knowing as well, that such answer would satiate Daans curiosity.
More minutes were spent in silence; Daan was watching attentively again.
Do you know why I chose you, Agent Sandoval?
Sandoval knew exactly what moment of the event was being shown. He recalled the dark clouds crowding over the sky, the short wind that smelled of rain he recalled praying for rain not to intervene in one of Humanitys greatest steps forward.
His CVI recalled a ship, larger than the shuttles currently used by the Taelons and their human guests, and aliens, nearly seven feet high each of them (back when the human facade was not just as skillfully molded as it was now), walking out of the ship and jumping down from the piloting cabin, and silent and tiny drops of rain starting to fall, and curses rolling in his head, tagalog curses, and sweat on the foreheads of the officials, and trying to stand further on the tip of his toes to get a clearer look of the aliens.
He recalled the shock he had felt upon seeing them, upon realizing they were real. A suddenly new reality dawned on him.
He was 33. He wanted to see the aliens better.
He was on the first rank, he had been at the space comm center when the message had been received.
No. I always wondered, Sandoval said in the present through the flashback of his CVI, as the implants bearers of CVIs since the very beginning had learned to do, little by little, tiny bits of control after headaches. He was half trying to prompt the Taelon into an answer, half acknowledging the fact for himself.
And rain stopping falling, and grey light coming from the sky to welcome the aliens, and dead silence behind him in the crowd.
Daan smiled.
Sandoval tried to remember the moment he had first seen Daan smile. Maybe it had been on this day
Daan was one of the last to get out of the ship. He recalled noticing this alien was particular. He was the first one to dress in a human facade, purpleizing the exocovering up; he was the first one to detach himself from the group, Sandoval thought he was their superior before learning there was no specific hierarchy concerning first contacts with other species specified in the Synods guidelines; Daan was the first one to come their way.
Cuses vacated his brain. He was coming his way.
He recalled the alien ignoring all the important looking officials and decorated military officers and stepping toward him. He recalled Daan tilting his head sideways in a way that had, strangely, felt instantly familiar; he recalled Daans voice pronouncing words never heard before on the surface of Earth.
Sandoval focused on the present again and put the flashback aside, temporarily freezing his mind in place. Daan was looking at him, naivety was no longer written on his features, innocence no longer painted in the way he sat. On his face, there was only rememberance nostalgia, maybe? You were the only non-caucasian individual to be present on the site.
For what was most likely the first time, he glimpsed a true look of honesty on the features of the American Companion. A look that spoke of an aliens vague ignorance, yet almost childish curiosity, concerning the object of their discovery.
He recalled the whisper that had been going through the crowd behind, beside, before, everywhere around him, when he had tentatively mirrored the gesture offered as a form of greeting. He recalled someone suddenly interrupting the very first and private communion he shared with Daan at this moment, the alien turned his head to his new interlocutor, redirecting his attention elsewhere. He recalled looking at the rest of the taelon deleguation, nearly all of them were looking at them, except one of them whom was looking at the horizon behind the shuttle. He was taller than the rest. Almost eight feet high.
He recalled being curious at this one too.
Now, he thought, he knew this one Taelons name was Zoor.
Zoor had been present at the very beginning of the taelon delegation, but his presence had been requested by the Synod concerning motives that, even now, the current leader of the taelon species refused to mention and he had left, to return three full years after.
The peace of rememberance briefly comforted his tensed features and, absorbing himself further in the memory, he was touched with a hint of past peace. The only one he could gain.
END
Energy particles danced in the vertical stream that Daan had ordered be flowing in front of his seat. The American Companion sat, rigid, on his orchid-shaped chair, in the middle of his audience chamber, taking one of the rare inoccupied moments that his crowded schedule granted him to watch the news. Agent Sandoval was at the other end of the room, a few feet across Major Kincaids desk, reviewing the security protocols, starting with the Washington central of taelon security.
The implants eye barely caught hold of the Companions frail form, at the extremity of its vision range. Daans fingers were moving in alien patterns on the arms of his chair correction: these motions would have seemed alien to someone unused to the company of a Taelon, but to him, they had grown more than familiar. Especially the movements of Daans fingers. Especially Daan himself.
When a nearly imperceptible change in Daans posture occured, a few meters from him, Sandovals head jerked up to attention, matter-of-factly he liked to think so. The Companion had smiled; from where he was the asian man could not glimpse of what was it that was presented in the news. He attempted to focus again on the task at hand, mantraing that he should not let himself be distracted by Daan, the days when he would have welcomed any distraction offered by this Taelon in particular, were over. But Daans melodious voice rose. World medias are rebroadcasting the initial retransmission of our arrival on Earth he said, seemingly musing aloud. Why is this? the alien inquired with a naivety that Sandoval suspected to be just another piece added to the puzzle of taelon manipulative tactics.
Sandoval paused, trying to think of an answer that would be both plausible and satisfying. Its been 1500 days since the Taelons landed on Earth, he said, looking only briefly at Daan, showing his desire not to have a pursued conversation with the most enigmatic of a race of mysterious aliens.
The Companion smiled a brief grin of disappointment. I am aware of this event Agent Sandoval. I was speaking of the human habit to show important events again on anniversary dates. Even events that are not specifically positive in nature, or generated by pride, the Taelon said, maybe refering to the New Souvenir day, celebrated a few weeks ago, on the date when United North America had declared war on China and India, while South America broke all economic bonds with the United States of Europe. Is it in commemoration?
The implant definitely looked up from his work. Partially. Its also out of rememberance. Daan tilted his head. To make sure all those who watch the program remember your presence on Earth, Sandoval clarified.
At this time, our presence on Earth had already been made quite obvious.
Sandoval smiled while his CVI flashed to him images from the time when Daan asked many apparently innocent questions like these, back when he was the only implant to serve him. Humans tend to be more convinced by what they see than by what they hear, and by what they know is happening than by what they know could happen, he answered, knowing he was being evasive, but knowing as well, that such answer would satiate Daans curiosity.
More minutes were spent in silence; Daan was watching attentively again.
Do you know why I chose you, Agent Sandoval?
Sandoval knew exactly what moment of the event was being shown. He recalled the dark clouds crowding over the sky, the short wind that smelled of rain he recalled praying for rain not to intervene in one of Humanitys greatest steps forward.
His CVI recalled a ship, larger than the shuttles currently used by the Taelons and their human guests, and aliens, nearly seven feet high each of them (back when the human facade was not just as skillfully molded as it was now), walking out of the ship and jumping down from the piloting cabin, and silent and tiny drops of rain starting to fall, and curses rolling in his head, tagalog curses, and sweat on the foreheads of the officials, and trying to stand further on the tip of his toes to get a clearer look of the aliens.
He recalled the shock he had felt upon seeing them, upon realizing they were real. A suddenly new reality dawned on him.
He was 33. He wanted to see the aliens better.
He was on the first rank, he had been at the space comm center when the message had been received.
No. I always wondered, Sandoval said in the present through the flashback of his CVI, as the implants bearers of CVIs since the very beginning had learned to do, little by little, tiny bits of control after headaches. He was half trying to prompt the Taelon into an answer, half acknowledging the fact for himself.
And rain stopping falling, and grey light coming from the sky to welcome the aliens, and dead silence behind him in the crowd.
Daan smiled.
Sandoval tried to remember the moment he had first seen Daan smile. Maybe it had been on this day
Daan was one of the last to get out of the ship. He recalled noticing this alien was particular. He was the first one to dress in a human facade, purpleizing the exocovering up; he was the first one to detach himself from the group, Sandoval thought he was their superior before learning there was no specific hierarchy concerning first contacts with other species specified in the Synods guidelines; Daan was the first one to come their way.
Cuses vacated his brain. He was coming his way.
He recalled the alien ignoring all the important looking officials and decorated military officers and stepping toward him. He recalled Daan tilting his head sideways in a way that had, strangely, felt instantly familiar; he recalled Daans voice pronouncing words never heard before on the surface of Earth.
Sandoval focused on the present again and put the flashback aside, temporarily freezing his mind in place. Daan was looking at him, naivety was no longer written on his features, innocence no longer painted in the way he sat. On his face, there was only rememberance nostalgia, maybe? You were the only non-caucasian individual to be present on the site.
For what was most likely the first time, he glimpsed a true look of honesty on the features of the American Companion. A look that spoke of an aliens vague ignorance, yet almost childish curiosity, concerning the object of their discovery.
He recalled the whisper that had been going through the crowd behind, beside, before, everywhere around him, when he had tentatively mirrored the gesture offered as a form of greeting. He recalled someone suddenly interrupting the very first and private communion he shared with Daan at this moment, the alien turned his head to his new interlocutor, redirecting his attention elsewhere. He recalled looking at the rest of the taelon deleguation, nearly all of them were looking at them, except one of them whom was looking at the horizon behind the shuttle. He was taller than the rest. Almost eight feet high.
He recalled being curious at this one too.
Now, he thought, he knew this one Taelons name was Zoor.
Zoor had been present at the very beginning of the taelon delegation, but his presence had been requested by the Synod concerning motives that, even now, the current leader of the taelon species refused to mention and he had left, to return three full years after.
The peace of rememberance briefly comforted his tensed features and, absorbing himself further in the memory, he was touched with a hint of past peace. The only one he could gain.
END
