Xenocracy

 

Sometimes I look up at the stars and wonder,

Is there intelligent life out there?

Or are they just like us…

-- Anonymous

 

 

A huge snowflake glowed electric blue in the center of the screen.

But it wasn’t a snowflake, and it wasn’t complete.

The live feed from the drone flying high above began to zoom closer onto the alien’s amazing creation.  This alien snowflake stretched its hundreds of angular tendrils out over a mile from the glowing central section.  Across North America, 23 just like it had also appeared in the last 24 hours, each in various stages of completion.

In all the other continents, except for Antarctica, other snowflake complexes materialized and grew and pulsated with life shortly after each alien starship landed.  In China alone, 44 snowflakes grew more tendrils with each hour that passed.

The tendrils of the ‘snowflake’ grew out of the center where the alien starship rested on the ground.  As people streamed toward a starship, they entered the bluish tunnels and were guided to a section where cables and wires moved magically around each person and quickly attached themselves.  Small holo-screens appeared on the bluish walls and glowed bright with unreadable ciphers and letters.

If all the sections were currently full and a new group arrived, new extensions of the tunnel materialized out of thin air. 

The people called it magic.

Our best guess was nanotechnology on a scale never dreamed by humanity.

Hundreds of people continued to arrive every few minutes.  Hover platforms arrived to meet them and carry those too sick to enter on their own.

Tens of thousands who had traveled far and wide were currently inside the massive complex of tendrils.   And every hour tens of thousands left happy and smiling. 

Word spread quickly.

By the third day the alien snowflakes numbered 144, each located at various remote sites around the globe.  The young and the old, the rich and the poor, the sick and dying, they all came for a single purpose – to be healed.

Despite the unbelievably large crowds that drew closer with each moment, they moved forward in a calm and organized manner.  Many whispered excitedly with those nearest them as they walked toward the nearest tendril of the massive snowflake.  One thing was the same about everyone, their eyes beamed with burning expectation despite their gaunt, sick condition.  And even those being carried upon stretchers smiled.

The aliens had brought more than their starships with them.  They had brought hope for the critically sick, the crippled and even the dying.

In contrast to the wide-open countryside, this moving mass of humanity also seemed odd for what was missing - the Raxth would not allow automobiles anywhere near where they landed.  The aliens had quickly informed the inhabitants of earth that cars were poison, one of their rare messages in those first few days after their starships began to orbit Earth.

The other message was even more simple - if you were sick, if you were dying – come to us.

Hundreds of thousands abandoned their cars, trucks and buses and walked the last few miles toward each of the large alien complexes.

The aliens cured those whose bodies were wracked by Leukemia, Parkinson’s Disease, MS and every disease known to man – they even cured those suffering stage four of any type of cancer.  The odd-looking aliens first performed a scan of the person after the hover cables and wires connected to the person.  Next, their computers analyzed the person and the disease from which they suffered.  Within a few minutes, an alien doctor would enter the room.  After briefly reviewing the glowing lines on their display screens, they cured the sick with a simple wave of their twinkling instruments over the patient’s body.

And everyone walked away completely cured.

It was surreal, bizarre, and miraculous all at the same time.

Countless times, those that had just been healed hugged and even cried while they laid their heads on the shoulders of the strange, alien bodies of the Raxth.  The aliens remained strangely aloof, briefly returning the appreciative embraces, and then silently urging the cured to leave with a wave of their thin, fragile arms to cure the new people arriving every minute.

Happy beyond belief, they walked away to begin their trip back home. 

The people of earth were quickly mesmerized by the technological magic and miracles of the Raxth.  On social media, on the news feeds, everywhere across the Internet, they couldn't read enough about the aliens.  Sickness, disease, and pollution proved no match for the alien technology. 

In the middle of the Pacific Ocean, the island of floating trash and plastic three times the size of the state of Texas was ‘removed’ in less than a day.  And yet, plastic and trash existed in smaller islands across every ocean.

The massive clouds of smog choking the cities of Los Angeles, Lahore, Delhi, Beijing, Mexico City and a dozen others were cleared in mere hours after the Raxth ships moved over them and applied their technology.  Sadly, the sickening pall of pollution returned a few days later after the ships returned to orbit.

Yet we understood - the aliens were demonstrating that they could help us conquer pollution everywhere.

The Raxth were givers, that fact quickly became obvious.  And more, everyone around the world soon realized that mankind was on the verge of something truly incredible, something unimaginably wonderful – an event that would prove to be the most significant in all human history – first contact. 

For the Raxth, despite uttering very few words in the first days after they arrived, revealed by their actions an infinite wisdom and a gracious benevolence unheard of in the entire history of humankind.  Despite the lack of verbal communication, the Raxth demonstrated the one thing humans could understand - love.

And on the 40th day, the aliens called a press conference.

 

***

 

The Prime Minister of France looked tired, mused President Williamson of the United States.  But no world leader had really had much rest these last few weeks since the alien's arrival, even though there had been no overt threats to humankind.  Still, it was unnerving the things these super-beings could do.

"They're coming."  The Presidential aide pointed at the door.

"Well, I guess we'll learn what their agenda is at last," President Williamson said to President Mugana of Kenya.

"Let us hope so." Mugana sighed.

President Williamson nodded, rubbing his hands together with his mounting nervous energy.

"We asked them some questions last week after they opened up - sort of a test.”  Williamson reflected out loud.  “A group of our eggheads from MIT, Stanford and other universities compiled a list for them.  You know, the great questions of our age... if there really is a Universal Theory to unify Quantum Mechanics and Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.  We asked them about the existence of tachyons and dark matter and the feasibility of faster-than-light travel... oh, I don't remember the rest.  They gave us the answers… in the same hour we asked each question."

Mugana gazed at him with keen interest.

Williamson smiled.  "And there they were - our most brilliant scientists and researchers, poring over this mountain of data and mathematical formulae thousands of screens long."  President Williamson began to chuckle, shaking his head thoughtfully.  "And our best minds were stumped after the first few screens, it was all so far above their heads.  They were still sitting there mumbling to each other and scratching their butts when I left."

"But the important thing is that the Raxth freely provided us the answers to our scientific questions," Prime Minister Hancock of Australia added, standing beside the two world leaders.

"How do we know that?"  Williamson’s eyes narrowed.  "Our greatest minds can't even fathom a fraction of it so far.  If they're that much more advanced than us, they could be putting one over on us."

"That," Mugana began, "is frightening."

The doors opened, and three of the Raxth entered.  All eyes fixed on them as the room became ghostly silent.

The Raxth were extraordinarily slim with three sided bodies. Three slender arms moved with their careful gait down the hallway filled with world leaders.  Their heads appeared misshapen compared to the rest of their fragile-looking bodies - their huge, oblong heads seemed unsteady sitting upon their tiny necks.  Forty-seven small, black eyes were scattered across each alien head and made it seem like the aliens could see everything in all directions.

Two of the aliens stopped while the other stepped forward and began to speak.

"I am Trith of the Raxth.  My people bring you the greetings from the rest of the known galaxy.  We are happy to help mankind in its terrible plight, and to help you to become one with the rest of us."

A wave of murmuring swept the room.  Trith held up one of his hands.

"We will guide you, as is our way when a... shall we say a young, unlearned sentient race is encountered.  As a parent cares for and helps its offspring reach adulthood, so we shall do for you.  And the rewards that await you - to travel the galaxy with us, to explore, to live a normal lifespan!  But humankind has much to learn first.  Do you wish this grand opportunity to advance yourselves eons in a single generation?  We offer you Xenocracy.  And to live Concordia and allow it precepts and principles to guide your life as it does for all in the universe."

"He's telling us we're backwards and stupid," Prime Minister Dubovich of Russia whispered amid the enthusiastic applause that erupted.

"Intergalactic country bumpkins," Hancock chimed.

"And it's true," Mugana added while he clapped enthusiastically.  "Compared to them."

More murmuring swept the room as all but one of the aliens left.  Williamson made his way to it.

"May I ask," President Williamson said in a strong voice so all in the room could hear.  "What do we need to learn, in order to come up to your level."

Trith looked silently around the room a moment at the expectant faces of humanity.  When he finally spoke, he spoke with a gentle sadness.

"First... you must learn to stop killing yourselves with your technology.  And second, you must stop destroying this beautiful planet."

 

***

 

“You still practice war!?”  Trith said in utter disbelief.  "And you are a Level VII Pre-Concordia society?"

President Williamson felt a hot flush of embarrassment.  "I thought you knew that from the comment you made last week at your official welcoming!  You know, your press conference.”"

Trith shook his head.  "No, I meant the way you were poisoning yourselves, the waste you are wallowing in from your technology, especially from your automobiles.   Our initial studies indicated that you must have advanced so quickly that prudent analysis of some of the long-term negative impacts had been overlooked.  That can be understood in the excitement of advancement for a such a young race.  But you must learn from those terrible mistakes and not repeat them."  Trith's forty-seven eyes widened.  "But war!  That is unimaginable for a sentient species at this level."

"Well, yes, we still wage war." President Williamson began.  "Sometimes...um... it's the only way to settle a conflict between nations.  That is why we keep a standing army, a navy, and missiles.”

Trith's forty-seven eyes blinked in unison.  "Our initial studies of your scientific and cultural achievements indicated that your civilization should be long past war.  That is for primitives!"  Trith scratched the hairless skin of his oblong head.  "You must have developed some horrific weapons with your present state of technological advancement."

President Williamson felt like a child being scolded.  "In our society, war is… common."  He looked down.  "And yes, some of our weapons are horrific."

"Then one of the first edicts of Xenocracy for Earth will be to outlaw war - all human divisions must denounce it." Trith paused in thought. "It will not be acceptable conduct war any longer."

Williamson chuckled at the outrageous thought.

Trith eyed him with concern.  "What is humorous?"

The President shrugged.  "I guess the thought of no more war. It’s been a part of our history, all through it – every nation, every empire."  He looked questioningly at the alien.  "Are there not conflicts, or wars, between the different races of the..."  He paused, searching for the word.

“Concordia - the Galactic Society of the accepted sentient races."  A troubled look covered Trith’s features while he paused in deep thought. With a nod, he continued.  "There is no war, none for times untold, my human friend.  We have differences, but these are dealt with in a civilized way.  You will learn of it in the Teachings – the principles of Concordia."

"Sounds too good to be true."

"Why say this, human?"  Trith asked in puzzlement.

"Well, it sounds great, but...  I mean, humans have always wanted to end war, but we’ve never been able to do it.  No war, it's just a little inconceivable.”

“Humans seem to feel a need to hate something, for something to be their enemy.  It seems to be as much a part of your mental and philosophical makeup as love and justice.  And yet, there is no Evil Empire in the known galaxy, there is no all-powerful evil that needs to be conquered.”  Trith’s black eyes sparkled with intelligence.  “There is nothing for you to fight.”

President Williamson whistled with a puzzled expression on his face.  “But there is evil.  We must fight it every day here…”

“Why?”  Trith shook his sadly.  “Why do you fight wars?  Why do you kill?”

“Well, other nations try to take what is ours…”

Trith’s arms waved in the air.  “What do you mean by those terms – take what is ours?”

President Williamson shrugged.  “I mean, another nation may try to occupy land we own.”

“What?” Trith gasped.  “You own land?”

“Why, yes.  Each nation owns a section of land.  Even individuals own a small section of land and the houses they live inside.  They own goods inside their houses - possessions.”

“Ownership!”  Trith shouted.  “I begin to understand now this system you call economics and this strange concept of money.  We still don’t fully understand how humans assign value to this term – your money is ludicrous to us.”

“Don’t the sentient races of the universe operate in some kind of economy?  I mean, how do you buy and sell?”

“No one can own the land,” Trith said simply.  “Just as no one can own the water or the air.  We do not buy and we do not sell across all the worlds of the universe.  We do not have possessions.”

“What?” President Williamson shouted.  He stared a moment in disbelief at Trith.  “What do you do when you want something?  Or when you need something, like food or shelter?”

Trith paused a moment.  He turned and began operating the controls on one of the devices that communicated with his orbiting starship.  The alien peered intently at the screen.

“I am searching for a term you can understand since you have not yet studied the precepts of Concordia,” Trith paused a long moment in silence.  Suddenly, he smiled.  “Ah, yes.  I think you will understand this.”

President Williamson waited expectantly.

“We share.”

“You share?”

“Do you not understand that term?  I thought it was simple yet broad enough to explain how the different races of Concordia exchange goods.  It is the equivalent of your concept of economy that we operate for Concordia.”

“You share?”  He said a second time with more emphasis.  “I mean, I understand how children share toys.  But we’re talking about entire populations of worlds.  Here men and women, corporations… even farmers and the food industry– they produce goods to buy and sell.  Our goal is to make a profit.  How do you manufacture goods for others – like food to eat, clothes to wear, items for entertainment and equipment for transportation needs.”

“We share.”

“But how do your manufacturers obtain the raw materials to produce an item?”

“We call them Producers in Concordia.  If raw materials are needed, the producing organization will ask Harvesters to share raw materials with them.  If an individual needs food, a Grower will share some of his harvest.  If an individual needs clothing, a Producer will share some of his clothes.  We share.”

“Doesn’t someone get ripped off that way?”

Trith paused, a puzzled expression on his oblong face.  “Oh, you mean the concept of not obtaining a fair exchange?”

“Yes, like in trading.  It sounds like Concordia is based on principles of trading for something of equal value.”

“You are wrong, we do not trade.  We share.  It works out fine for everyone.  After all, one person shares with others, but many more share with him.  It is the same with major Producers – they share their output to any who ask.  And many Harvesters of raw material will share what is asked of them.  We simply share – there is no thought of assigning value in any of our dealings.  And there is certainly no money or profit.  You see, your inherent fallacy of placing a fictitious value on items or goods has warped your thinking so much that you find it hard to fathom reality.”

President Williamson sat down in his chair with a glazed expression.