The Day The Aliens Came

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An invalid boy communicates with alien intelligence.
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"If a lion could talk, we could not understand him"           Ludwig Wittgenstein

The day the aliens came there was no fire in the sky; no music in the background and no reception party of stuffed official Earthlings. There was just me in my wheelchair in our backyard taking the first warm breezes of the coming spring. I sensed something, ever so subtle; could not tell you what it was. It was simply put, an issue of communication with parties unknown. I simply had this feeling that a different entity, or alien intelligence, was trying to talk to me. I did not "know", it was a feeling not a knowledge.

Why me of all people on the planet? The question did not come to mind, not at the time. I was only nineteen and I was quadriplegic. Perhaps because my body was trapped; that had given my mind all the room for flight.

Then I dozed off; I think. Either I fell asleep or was transported somewhere else.

The place was clean and I could sense a soothing hum and shadows milling about in the background. I was looking at a hologram of the One-G machine, the machine that would make space travel a reality. The concept, however, had never went outside my mind to anybody on Earth.

Carl sagan had once calculated a spaceship, accelerating in space at 1G (32 fr/sec/sec) would take us from earth to Andromeda in about 27 years; a trip the light makes in a little over two and half million years. It would make interstellar travel possible. In a universe full of wormholes nd warped spacetime, I imagined the machine that could find the path propelling us at 1G.

The other miracle: I was standing up and having full sensation in my arms and legs, like the healthy boy I once was before the accident. I was not younger, just a healthier version of my current self. I looked around at the unusual surroundings, the place was huge, felt enclosed but I could see no walls. I kept studying the complex hologram of the One-G, the power that would enable a spaceship to accelerate at one-G, making the travelers feel they are on Earth while speeding towards another star.

Then a meticulously dressed man materialized and came towards me with open arms and a smile; he was uncle Barnard. My heart skipped a beat. It was a very nice dream, (or was it a dream?) I was healthy, standing on my own two feet and having full sensation in arms and legs, uncle Barnard was alive, and I was looking at a three-dimensional image of my invention, the machine in my head. It was, of course, only a scientific exercise; it would not be totally functional till I got the last piece of the puzzle figured out.

As I stood looking at the complex hologram; it was fitting to have my uncle there; he was the one who got me interested in astronomy, which lead to physics. When my accident happened and I lost control of all my limbs, I had all the time in the world and nowhere to go, so I reached for the stars and designed the One-G machine. It also was uncle Barnard who told me that the age of creation does not go far past the twenties. "By the time Einstein was thirty, his best work was already behind him. Life is too short and the age of wonder is so much shorter."

My uncle had told me.

One night watching the sky through my Newtonian, the one he bought me, then connected to a computer so I can see the night sky on the screen he sighed: "it is such a big universe out there, you can not fit in your pocket, or in your wallet. You can only fit it in your mind. That's how I know there is a creator." He made me think. With uncle Barnard I had always to think. Of all the pleasures of life that I could no longer enjoy, I missed his company the most.

I sound fond of my uncle because I am. Before my teens he bought me my first telescope. It was a small toy-store type but I was able to see the craters of the moon. Two Christmases later he bought me a bigger one and I was able to see the rings of Saturn. When he realized I was already hooked on understanding the universe, he bought me a big Newtonian. I did not know then how much my astronomy cost him.

I was very young, probably ten when things went wrong for dad. First he lost the business and we were forced to move into a trailer on the wrong side of the tracks. Dad got overwhelmed by our circumstances and started drinking heavily, again. My mother got busy being mad at dad for "breaking old promises not to ever drink again," and busier praying for him to stop. To help God with his decision answering her prayers, she became right-wing born-again and joined the activists against abortion and, later, stem-cell research.

Uncle tolerated his sister's activism. He said nothing about abortion, though he was pro-choice; but he got flustered at her stubborn opposition to stem-cell research. "Stem-cell research is the only hope for people with spinal cord injuries, our hope combating many crippling illnesses. Science is the only hope humanity got," he argued. Mom argued back the only hope was Jesus, not science, and that nobody should question God's will. It was the only time I heard uncle say something unbecoming under his breath. Father kept busy drinking, mother praying and marching; I was left for uncle Barnard to look after me. I think of him in snapshots:

When we discussed Spiderman (the book not the movie) and I told him that Spiderman was my favorite superhero. Spiderman is so human and tries hard to ascertain he is doing the right thing. (He too had a good uncle.) That day my uncle reminded me to be as wise with my powers. "What powers do I have?" I asked while flexing imaginary muscles. "Daniel, your strength in your skull. You are so smart but you are too young to know. Remember the great responsibility that comes with the great power." After a moment of silence I said, "I want to see the rest of the universe. The 90% that is missing and we call Dark Matter. It is not really dark, just invisible. I want to see it." I sounded so ridiculous then. He surprised me by saying, "If you put your mind to it, you will see it for all humanity. Do it before you lose the sense of wonder."

Many years and few tragedies later I was in a wheelchair but very close to solving, or seeing, the invisible matter we still call dark matter. It is the massive energy that would drive my One-G machine; but I digress.

The times I spent with uncle Barnard were the nice dream in my nightmarish reality. Soon enough, the nightmare would swallow everything.

I was fourteen when I started thinking about the concept of "sensing" the matter we can not see. I spent long hours in the library. Our home computer was too small for the big math I was doing. I never thought of the project as anything more than an intellectual exercise, something to keep me busy, away from home without getting in trouble. Then it became serious as the complex theory started shaping in my mind. "Keep at it young man, find another key for humanity to unlock more of the universe. If you stay away from partying and drinking and the distractions of youth, you will do it for sure," uncle said gently. The fact that he believed in me, strengthened and inspired me. He made me aware I was better than my circumstances, and that became the energy that kept me moving in my little universe.

I never got much of a chance to sample the distractions of youth. I was walking back home from the library late evening, lost in thought, when a drunk driver hit me. After long agony I was alive, paralyzed from the neck down; and that was considered being lucky. "Things happen for a reason," for once, uncle and mom agreed. I could not understand it. What reason would that be that put me in a wheelchair, moving pages of a book or switching screens by blinking my eyes. However sad he was, he tried to hide it. "There are things we have to accept. The accident took your body but never touched your mind. Think about it," he said. I neither accepted it nor thought about it, not then. We got some money from insurance, it helped. I kept my education and attracted my physic's teacher attention. I was a child in a wheelchair getting scholarships from prestigious institutions.

Then I got an official visit from two sharply dressed men. They wanted to know about the concept in my physics project. It was both flattering and frightening. I told them that the whole concept depends on tapping the energy that makes up most of the space in the cosmos. Until we know enough about it, my theories and contraptions are science fiction; with more emphasis on fiction more than science.

My uncle was present when they came and during the long interview. Later, my uncle sat silent for a long time, deep in thought. Finally he spoke, "you outgrew me Daniel, I am having trouble understanding many of this work." After a long pause he added pensively, "who knows what politicians or the military could do with this." I don't think they were expecting much of a boy in a wheelchair but, to their credit, they took their job, or mission if you wish, very seriously.

Their visit highlighted the importance of such discovery. Whenever there is science, technology follows. Whereas science is academic and benign, technology unleashes the potential of the discovery. With technology, with the worms of power and greed deep in the human heart; one has to be careful with one's science.

I did not need to worry, my machine was theoretical and needed and energy source that we were not sure existed the way I dreamt, or visualized it.

Then in one blow I lost both my uncle and my father. I was sixteen when I lost them. Both were on the same plane when it crashed in the ocean. My father was always lost in his own universe; the death of uncle Barnard gave me this profound sense of loss. Yet, however tragic that was, monies from insurance and compensation made my life easier. We moved to a better place, and I had all the tools to study at home. My mother did not have to go to church for special requests, priests started to show up in our new home offering her larger pieces of the God's attention. Even that reminded me of uncle Barnard. I remembered when he argued once with mom that the clergy don't really own God; neither do saints. My mother idolized her brother, but never seemed to agree with his views.

After his death, my mother sank deeper in religion. She devoted a larger part of her prayers to asking God to have mercy on uncle's soul. Then she started to think of him in a different context. Next she started to believe in his sainthood. It is hard for me to explain how this progression happened in her mind. I never was able to relate to mother on an intellectual level. At some point, part of her prayer requests, mostly the very unrealistic, went to uncle Barnard. "You just wait and see," she kept telling me. I did not argue with mom or try to break her heart by reminding her how little he thought of organized religions. There was no point; and conversations with mom bored me.

I was eighteen when the concept was complete in my head. The machine that would make star-travel a reality. I theorized the Dark Matter was the source of energy that balances the equation we call the universe. With it being ninety percent it could provide a strong magnetic field that would spiral my machine at continuous acceleration. The big task is, can we tap this elusive source of energy?

Carl Sagan had once calculated that a spaceship, accelerating at one-G, would reach the Andromeda Galaxy, two million and three hundred thousand light years away, in twenty five years. I had the prototype in my head, long before it was needed for any peaceful purpose. I was about a year away, in my estimation, from catching the inexhaustible power source for my machine, in clumps of invisible energy all over the "void" of space; and we still have over four billion years before we would need to leave our own star system. My machine would not help us reach Mars any faster and practically unsuitable for travel inside our system. Taking it to Mars is like driving a Corvette to go to the bathroom.

************************

Then I was in this pleasant dream, in this huge and strange place and there was uncle Barnard greeting me.

"Uncle Barnard? You really my uncle." The man shook his head gently in answer.

"No, we took the images that were already in your mind. We really need to talk to you; we need your help to save our people." His smile was gentle, unassuming and soothing. "They"- whoever they were- took the images that was in my mind, that explains me walking and having full range of motion, and explains my uncle. Who were the "We" remained a question. If "they" were reading my mind then projecting themselves back in images I understood; they were very good at it. He, or they, sounded exactly like uncle.

"Me? How? And who am I helping?"

"Indeed it is only you who could help us. I'll be very brief. You could help by allowing us to build your concept of space-travel machine. We come from another galaxy, our star is dying soon. There is not much time. We found another star system that would accommodate us; with your machine the journey would be about twenty years. Without it, we would be lost." Now that was clear and precise yet what a loaded statement.

"But you space- traveled already. You are here." I was indeed puzzled.

"No, we are not. We only send biological thought-probes. In our world, thoughts are the only thing that travels faster than light. As things happened, you understood us."

"But, if you can read my mind. The concept is there, why do you need ask me?" I puzzled.

"Of course we need your permission, and blessings too. We could not steal something, just because we can. It is yours."

I explained to him that my machine is powered by the form of energy that is so elusive we could only calculate its presence but neither could we see nor sense.

"Yes, we understand that. But we can help you with this part, we know how to tame it and use it." Now my head started to spin.

I will spare you the discussion that followed. It was mainly cold scientific and full of formulas and equations.

I did not think for long. Whoever they are would not take something just because they could, even to save their civilization, that was all I needed to know. "And now, the One-G machine is yours too." That was all I said

"Thank you, our people will be forever grateful. And we give you the key to the invisible matter; promise us to use it wisely; promise to do no harm."

"I promise to do my best. I promise never to intend no harm. Doing no harm is such an elusive goal in my world." I explained the limitations of good intentions: The simple equation E=Mc square unleashed the power of the atom in the form of a bomb. It took so many lives and caused so much misery but then it ended a war and thus saved probably more lives and prevented a worse misery. How to be sure you doing no harm? You can only promise your intention.

With energy fields branching throughout space for my ship to spiral around them in constant acceleration. I had long thought about the possibilities of harnessing and controlling such powers. We can reach for the stars or destroy Earth several times over. That is not far-fetched. When we harnessed the power of splitting atoms we built enough bombs to destroy the only world we have more than a dozen times. With those force fields we could deflect an oncoming asteroid and avoid a calamity similar to the one that killed off the dinosaurs; or we could divert another asteroid to hit Earth and kill our enemies, even if it takes us, with everybody else in the process.

I could only promise to mean no harm. I can unlock the secrets of nature, hand humanity a key to the universe; but I can not control all humanity.

For the sake of accuracy I have to admit that not all our communication was verbal or that words were exchanged the way I wrote them. The alien lions read my thoughts and somehow I read theirs. There were words exchanged as two humans would talk but mostly we used telepathy during this encounter. They read my thoughts about doing no harm and, the likeness of my uncle nodded in agreement. Your honesty is good enough for us; they thought back.

"You know where in this big universe you heading?" I said loudly

He pointed out without hesitation, "It is a star very much like yours. There is a planet around it with lots of water and life-supporting echo- system. That will be our destination."

I looked up and knew at once, it was Barnard star. It is a class G star, very much like the sun.

**********

"You are very advanced, I am surprised you did not build a similar one ahead of us." I said softly.

"We never devoted our thoughts to building machine. We devoted ourselves to improving our bodies and minds. But we invented very little in machinery. I already finished copying your machine." He turned as if to leave then turned again and bowed to me apologetically.

"Knowing what's in your mind; please allow us to fix the fracture in your spine. Your muscles are week now so please don't try moving at once?"

"What? Oh, please do." For once, I did not know what to think.

He reached with a gentle hand towards my head.

"Will I see you again?" I thought.

"We hope to stay in touch of course. We will do our best. Our primary concern now is to finish the journey safely. You understand that we really do not know what happens when your ship reaches the critical speed of light." They thought back in answer. They were right.

"What we promise is that if you ever need us will do every effort to answer you, assuming we are capable." There was optimistic humor in the answer.

"Please have a safe journey," I realized our encounter was nearing end and I did not want it to end. Water rose to my eyes.

"We love you too," was the answering thought. The likeness of uncle Barnard finished massaging my neck. Then he said loudly in my uncle's voice, "thank you. We will never forget you."

Next thing I was in my wheelchair and the night air was turning colder.

**********************

My mom came from inside and wheeled me in. "I had a nice dream of uncle just now."

"You will tell me about it?"

"Oh , not much. It was not really my uncle. It was a space alien who took my uncle's image. We talked physics and space travel and he fixed my neck."

"Be careful what you say, no devil will ever be able to take your uncle's image. Your uncle was, is a saint you know," she said, indignant.

"Who said anything about a devil mom? It was alien intelligence from space."

She came closer and explained to me like I was an ignorant child, "God created man in his image, and only man, not aliens from space." Oh really, why was God always male for the longest time and till the feminist movement started. God also was old and angry at one thing or another with nothing but floods and plagues as teaching tools. Did God create Man in his image or was it the other way around? Those were not original thoughts of mine, they belonged to uncle Barnard.

"They were no devils mom, they were intelligent thoughts from space. Oh, never mind, it was uncle Barnard." I might as well give up.

Seconds later the tingling sensation in my arms started; the kind of pain you feel when you cut the circulation to a limb. The feeling was painful but I welcomed it, no matter how painful, I was feeling my body again.

"Of course it was your uncle and he came back to make you healthy," she began to cry.

"You know mom, I think he did." She looked at me and sighed in pain.

It took three full days before I was able to get up and wobble on my feet without help. It would have been uncle Barnard's fortieth birthday.

*********

There is no explaining the commotion that followed in the few weeks and months, following the "miracle." The media, doctors, church and curiosity seekers competed for my time and life, I was tempted to jump in the path of another drunk driver and get back the serenity of my old chair.

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