The Visitors

There once existed, on a far-off planet, a civilisation of beings that was founded on love, trust, and mutual respect. The concept of a police force or an army would not have been understood here, as crime and war were not words in the language of this people.


The highest accomplishment in this society was to add to the collective aesthetic. Architects built high, airy, soaring buildings in consultation with musicians, so that when the buildings were erected and caressed by the soft prevailing winds, a gentle tone poem was produced that added to the enjoyment of the environment visually and aurally. One city to the south was inhabited entirely by poets, and had been so inhabited for thousands of years. Each poet was expected to contribute one line to a poem that told the entire history of these gentle people. It was a work in progress that was monumental in both concept and scope. We must understand that these poets had evolved over long millennia to the point that, when they wrote, the words they used were toned to evoke emotive responses in the listener through subtle frequency changes. It is interesting to note that this world had no written language: there was no requirement for it, as anything worth saying could be said, and anything worth remembering would be remembered.


One artist had given himself the task of composing a picture symbolising the essence of his world. He thought long on this project, anxious that it should be perfect. Rather than making a hasty decision to start the project, he continued his contemplation without putting paint to canvas. He died peacefully after his four-thousand-year life, but passed his life task on to his warnegs (a word in his language that indicates non-gender-specific spiritual offspring, but also described immortality). Thirty-seven generations later, the present warnegs realised that by virtue of the progression of lives devoted to this project, the picture was presented on the medium of each of their lives, and, as an ongoing work of art, must be continued to be preserved.


Scientists, over the ages, had eliminated sickness, lengthened the lifespan to four thousand years, and perhaps most important, had removed the drudgery from everyday work and housekeeping tasks. Holistic wellness had been enhanced through the medium of specific ganglionic manipulation, achieved through daily humming of a mantric frequency sequence. Each being was free to develop to his best advantage to pursue the common good. If one could survey all of the known universes, both parallel and tangential, one could not find a society that had achieved such a zenith of aesthetic perfection.


These gentle people had no religion, as they had achieved immortality. After living their four thousand lives, they sensed when their physical end was approaching. With a feeling of consuming joy, they would approach another of their kind, touch their heads together in an act called zarlem, and in an instant, the elder would have transferred the core of his being to the other. The body would then disappear, but the essence would continue on in the body of the host. The new arrival would not be alone, as this form of immortality had been going on for more than five million years, and each member of this wondrous society shared her physical being with the essence of millions who had gone before.


One day the scientists on this Utopian planet made a discovery, quite by accident, concerning their friendly, smiling sun, that had shone on them since the dawn of their creation. All of the available facts indicated that, within one half year, this benign star would go nova, destroying its only satellite, their home.

* * * * *

The preparations were at last complete. The shining, egg-shaped ship floated inches above the common, near the centre of the major city of the planet. It would carry 500 physical beings within its silver core. Of cardinal importance though, was the cargo that the five hundred would carry. The voyagers were presently in the process of zarlem with all of the inhabitants of the planet. As each individual touched the head of a voyager, the individual would disappear, but the voyager would have gained yet another personality and the millions of essences contained therein, each as real and vital as the voyager's own character.


Strangely, this process was not a sad one, but was a festive and joyous occasion. The long, intricately formed queues were pleasing to the eye, and the songs and poems, chanted in counterpoint, made the heart vibrate in peaceful exhilaration.

* * * * *

The ship lifted from a planet that was devoid of life. The buildings sang tone poems to no one. The perfect flower designs on swards of the most vivid emerald pleased the eye of none. The perfect sun, that had shone so long on perfection, flickered, then turned an angry orange and exploded in a display of stellar fireworks that soon left that quadrant of the universe empty except for a vast swirling shroud of gas. The silver egg, containing both the past and future of an entire race, sped on, ...and ages passed.

* * * * *

It was a typical afternoon in Central Park: parents walking with their children, office workers relaxing with coffee and sandwich, lovers gazing into each others eyes, and holding hands, three different purse snatchers, one flasher in a London Mist coat ... and Jonathan O'Shea was walking home from his violin lesson.


Jonathan was fourteen years old, an idealist, and a genius. Yale had asked him (much to Harvard's chagrin) if he could join them on a scholarship next term. Jonathan's parents thought that Yale would be good for him, and he was tempted to agree, primarily because of the Medieval Studies program at that university. Jonathan's intellect told him that the Middle Ages were anything but romantic, but his fourteen year old soul longed after a chivalrous age, where knights slew dragons that threatened fair damsels, and virtue was its' own reward.

* * * * *

The five hundred descended in their silver egg, past the ugly towers towards the unruly green park. The ship hovered ten feet above the grass while the passengers looked through the walls and saw the crowds gathering below. They paid no attention to the crowds, as they were enthralled with the large numbers of birds flying about the park. The gentle creatures collectively agreed that, although they did not comprehend all of what they saw, there were as least many present who were not unlike them. The decision was made to go out into the air of their new home and communicate with those who looked almost like them. The ship's wall opaqued, then opened for them, and the travellers went forth into their new home.


The crowds around the silver ship watched in astonishment as five hundred beautiful, bronze-plumed birds flew like a flame through the wall of the ship. When these birds started a strange high singing, the quiet astonishment of the crowd turned to action. A few of the crowd threw frisbees, others threw stones, and baseballs. Most of the phoenix-like creatures were knocked from the skies and torn apart by the grabbing of many hands anxious to salvage one of the burnished feathers.


Jonathan, standing back from the mob, was dismayed by the carnage. When one of the birds dropped, wounded, at his feet, he picked it up and hid it under his jacket. He wasted no time in finding a quiet place where he could examine his patient for wounds. The two stared at each other, each recognising in the other a kindred spirit. The bird keened a mournful, quiet sound that Jonathan could almost understand. He held the bird closer to his ear so he could hear all the subtle nuances of the song. The bird leaned forward and touched Jonathan's forehead with its beak. In the brief intense burst of emotion that flooded throughout every fibre of his body, Jonathan O'Shea received zarlem, with the understanding of what had been done, and was not surprised that the visitor had disappeared.

* * * * *

The last of the visitors, the glowing plumage dulled and drab, died in captivity twenty-seven days after the landing. Jonathan went on to Yale, where his field of studies changed to demographics, sociology, philosophy, and religion.


Ten years after the Landing, Jonathan O'Shea, scholar and warneg, used the accumulated knowledge, culture, and science of another species, and changed the world for the better.