Alien Fascination

At the center of a long-deserted coastal city on Earth, there was a small, portable fusion-powered robot. It had three hands: one that it used for gripping objects, and two that it used for welding. In a former life, it had been one of many military-grade sentinels that had betrayed its creators. With no hope of survival, someone, somewhere, had remotely programmed it to execute one final, indefinite task. To create a monument to its predecessors out of what remained.

But the aliens didn't know that. All they saw through their instruments from light years away was a large crystalline dome upon Earth's landscape. It captured the interest of the species, who had long searched the universe for unique anomalies to explore. But there was no alien more captivated than one individual named Wan.

As a young member of the species, Wan was notably small and subject to the physical assertions of power from those larger than themselves. Wan had first been exposed to the dome during this early, socioacademic phase. It was one of many sensory replicas of the known universe. When Wan first experienced the replica, they indicated their delight with a groan-like hiss. Wan’s peers also expressed admiration and wonder, briefly, but were displeased when Wan tried to linger on the topic for too long. And so, it was early in Wan’s life that they discovered an inverse linear relationship unique to themselves: as their connection to the object increased, the connection with their peers decreased.

As Wan progressed from their formative phases and into their economically productive phase, they pursued an academic career that would allow for advocacy of exploration of the dome. They spent their energy and limited social capital extolling the intrinsic virtues of such a venture, such as mystery and beauty, regardless of what other resources the planet had to offer. Wan kept sensory replicas of the planet in close proximity to themselves, such as their living and workspaces. They devised rhythmic linguistic tributes to their love of the dome, which they kept only for themselves.

The problem was this: the aliens, as a society, were extremely cautious in their approach to new planets. The rewards of exploration, while bountiful, had also proven to be risky. The virally induced die-off of rotation #3,549,001,002 was proof enough of that. The tragic quarantines and subsequent loss of life were still mourned at regular intervals.

But Wan was persistent. After many rotations worth of study and observation, Wan's expertise in the planet Earth finally overshadowed their physical stature. Wan made a scientifically sound case: the gaseous and aquatic atmospheres were dead. No life on planet Earth remained.

When the mission to Earth was announced, Wan was, of course, given a place. The departure from their home planet and long-distance travel were small sacrifices; Wan had already given up many opportunities for interpersonal relationships and ignored all potential mates. Wan had not procreated, and it seemed unlikely that they ever would.

As part of Wan’s role in the mission planning, they were granted an assistant: a young alien named Dro. Dro dogged Wan’s every step and took notes about inconsequential minutiae that Wan did not care to remember. Dro reminded Wan to do things like consume regular nourishment and take time for regenerative cycles. Wan tolerated Dro’s intrusiveness up to a point. What most unsettled Wan was how Dro seemed to idolize them. When Wan caught Dro reading Wan’s private linguistic tributes to the dome, Wan drew up several rules to keep Dro at a distance. But Dro always maintained exactly that distance. No more, no less. Dro remained as close as Wan would allow.

So Wan learned to allow it.

After a long eventless journey and upon arrival to Earth, the team executed their mission to observe the planet from orbit for several more rotations. Wan was patient. After a lifetime of pursuit, a few more cycles hardly seemed significant. As their study wore on, Wan stopped thinking of time passing in terms of the rotations of their home planet. Earth’s rotations were short and quick, like the biological rhythm of a small creature, ticking away the days until Wan could at last descend.

Based on the observations able to be made in such close proximity, the planetary research team had affirmed the following hypotheses:

·        An organic, highly organized sentient life form had once inhabited Earth.

·        After achieving exponential technological growth, the species found itself faced with a choice between change or extinction. It chose the latter, as many civilizations do.

·        In doing so, it had destroyed all other forms of organic life.

Dome research was considered an honor and so was performed by Wan alone. Wan shared the following observations:

·        The dome was comprised of fragments of pigmented silicon dioxide held together by a network of thin metal alloys.

·        The arrangement of fragments had common, underlying structures. Wan hypothesized that these structures represented images important to the biological life that had once inhabited Earth.

But there was an additional discovery. A secret discovery. One that Wan dared not share.

The dome was growing. Very, very slowly.

After hundreds of years, not only had it grown, but it had been maintained. Through their orbital studies, Wan had learned that silicon dioxide was prone to melting over time due to its amorphous properties. Yet the arrangement remained pristine.

This presented an exciting and problematic possibility: something was still alive down there. With approval for exploration all but obtained, Wan feared that introducing such a variable could further delay the mission, possibly beyond the limits of Wan’s lifetime. So Wan kept it to themselves.

As the day approached, Wan no longer felt patient. They felt as though their life had become an unbearable sequence of anticipatory moments. Final inspections, trainings, and protocols seemed like nuisances to be overcome instead of critical preparations for a historical embarkment.

At last, it was time. Wan and Dro stepped onto the transport and descended through the thin remnants of atmosphere. As they came level with the dome, a soft moan escaped Wan’s pores (a sign of great joy). Wan felt weightless. Electrified. The dome towered over them like a great alien God. Wan felt a strong desire to be judged.

Dro remained at Wan’s side, collecting local photons and waveforms to help create sensory replicas to be sent back home. But Dro had a secret, too. Since arriving in orbit, Wan had grown lax in their enforcement of the distance between them. This allowed Dro opportunities to creep ever closer into their work. So Dro, like Wan, knew that they were not alone on the planet.

It took many Earth rotations to circumnavigate and document the dome. The visual structures within its walls were indeed patterns consistent with many types of organic life forms. Each had two sets of concentric ovals and circles near their tops, which Wan hypothesized to be their main sensory organs. Wan felt as though they could become lost in those circles, falling endlessly into the thoughts and minds of the long-lost race.

While Wan was used to Dro, they now longed for solitude. Wan felt so close to a spiritual connection with these beings, yet Dro was always there. One Earth cycle, before the planet had rotated the city into the light of its solar system’s star, Wan awoke early and snuck away from the transport alone.

As the yellow star shone through the cold, clear sky, thousands of reflected lights glittered in Wan’s path. The lights seemed to be guiding Wan, so Wan followed their lead, hoping to be found worthy. It seemed as though the threads of all of Wan’s lifetime were all hinged upon this day.

Then, Wan saw it: a way into the dome.

It was a small opening, barely enough to fit through. It appeared as though this part of the dome was the most recently maintained. As Wan approached, they noticed the white-hot light of a welding torch traversing the edges of the spot. At last, the Wan had come face to face with the little three-armed robot.

“Wan.”

The vibration came from behind. Wan turned quickly to find its source. There was Dro, tailing him, archival equipment at the ready.

“Dro.”

Wan made their disapproval apparent in their tone. But Dro was not to be deterred. Dro was shaking in excitement. The vibrations from Dro expressed awe and wonder, communicating the message “you found it. You actually found it.”

Wan’s vibrations expressed much the same. This was too great a moment to be annoyed at Dro. In fact, Wan found themselves pleased to have someone to share it with.

And then Dro lifted the archival equipment to collect a replica of the moment. The resulting mechanical click caused the robot to notice the two of them at last. It chirped, activating subroutines that had lain dormant for thousands of years.

It was over in moments. Whether Wan and Dro were aware of the energy blast that came their way, vaporizing them upon impact, would never be known. But if they had knowledge of the nature of their deaths, Wan and Dro may have found it a fitting end. Wan and Dro, now microscopic particles floating in the atmosphere of a long-dead planet, explored every surface of dome together before scattering into forms of themselves so diluted by wind and sea as to become unrecognizable from the planet itself.