SCIENCE FICTION FRIDAY

Tiny Little Lights In The Sky

Staring into an infinite Universe

“They have a telescope now,” she said.

Jorogith was nonplussed. “They’ve had telescopes for hundreds of years.”

“But this one is different,” said Naewint. “This one is better than the last.”

“Such is the nature of science,” retorted Jorogith. “The next will be even better than this, and the next better still.”

“What if they find us?”

“They won’t.”

“But we found them; their presence in the Universe has been quite obvious to us for some time.” Naewint continued. “How can we know that they will never peer into ☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒ and find that a certain star, which they call ☒☒☒☒☒ is a bit more special than others?”

Jorogith was suddenly quiet. “Is your filter active?”

Naewint replied swiftly, “Of course it is. I’m not stupid. Our transmissions are unintelligible to anyone else. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“I know it for a fact,” Jorogith said. “History repeats itself, in all races.”

“What history?”

“Our history. We didn’t expect the Onslaught; didn’t even know they existed until they made themselves known to us. Our space programme was far more extensive than anything Sol-3 can hope to achieve, yet we missed an interplanetary civilization in our own backyard.”

He paused to make the traditional mourning gestures.

“They won’t find us, because we are hiding. And if we have successfully hidden from the Onslaught for all these millennia, then they will never find us.”

Naewint seemed satisfied. “How do you think we must look, from their perspective? We can see their oceans and their cities, their cultures and their monuments. How do we appear to them?”

“Like they do to us, without the synthetic gravitational lenses and the spacetime condenser,” Jorogith replied. “Like tiny little lights in the sky.”

“They do not know there is a Universe waiting to devour them,” said Naewint soberly.

“No, they do not.”

“The Onslaught?” Naewint asked, “What do they know of Sol-3?”

“No one knows anything of the Onslaught, much less how much information they have. Many civilians have started to think they are a myth, invented by politicians to remain in power. They do not know that we planted those rumours ourselves.”

“So Sol-3 is safe?”

“We must assume that they are still concealed — no thanks to us. If the Onslaught knew of them, they would be dead.”

“But they are already killing themselves, aren’t they?” asked Naewint. “Climate change, disease, war — the usual gamut of an underdeveloped civilization?”

“That is correct,” replied Jorogith. “They are needlessly destroying themselves ahead of the Onslaught.”

“Can we help them?” asked Naewint. “Save them from themselves?”

“They aren’t worth saving yet. And we have yet to save even ourselves, much less another race.”

“So what do we do?”

“What we’ve always done: observe,” said Jorogith. “Unfortunately, that is the full extent of any race’s power in the Universe.”

“Observe — and react,” corrected Naewint. “And let the Universe do as it will.”

“Yes.”

“When is the next council meeting?” asked Naewint. “When do we decide how we will spend the next ten thousand years running from the Onslaught?”

“In a decade or so,” said Jorogith. “We might have to move to another world.”

“And Sol-3?”

“They will not know we were ever here,” he said. “They will look out into an infinite Universe until the Onslaught comes for them. And it will come, eventually.”

“Maybe our next world will look like theirs,” said Naewint.

“I’d like that.”