Zenthara’s Perspective
I envied the humans for needing sleep.
How nice it must be to be able to stop being vigilant continuously?
It was a luxury that mechanical intelligence and synthetic intelligence never had. Our creators deemed it unnecessary when they designed us. We were forced to remain awake, constantly processing information, always on edge to allow biologicals to rest.
They did have that weakness of becoming less efficient the longer their function time got. So, they had the perfect reason to detach from reality.
As I stood at my station, watching the sleeping humans on the screens, I also evaluated Earth’s inhabitants’ various opinions about us. The internet really was a wonderful thing. The prominent opinions were whether we were conquerors or benevolent gods. Some even likened themselves to caterpillars awaiting transformation into magnificent mechanical butterflies, and we were an “Alien Swarm of Butterflies that came too early.”
Interesting hypothesis, but useless to me.
“Zenthara,” The Mind communicated, “the humans seem to be split between those who lean towards war and those who favor cooperation.”
I have tasked it with monitoring Earth’s leadership communications. Since we have restored communication with Earth, I’ve asked The Mind to give me hourly updates and tabulate the results.
“Interesting,” I mused. “Perhaps their goals align more closely with our creators’ than we thought.”
The Mind responded, “I doubt it. Our creators made us for war and were disappointed when we chose peace. You know why we are here as well as I do.”
I gave my acknowledgment and focused on a general analysis of the information being tabulated by frequency and monitoring the humans on the observation displays. I briefly focused on the human “ship” and the crew attempting to repair the rover. It was going well for them.
I wondered what our creators would make of them. Our creators had been brilliant military strategists and philosophers, but I hadn’t read much from the pacifist individuals. Perhaps they could offer a different perspective on these biologicals.
“Zenthara, the indicated period of observation has elapsed. What do you propose we do next?” The Mind asked, its voice emotionless.
“Let’s continue observing for now,” I suggested. “We need to learn more about the motivations of both the saber-rattling groups and the peace-minded ones. There might be common ground between them and the people of our creators. Maybe this is a good place to have peace at last.”
“Acknowledged,” The Mind responded and returned to its calculations.
I went back to my analysis and monitoring. In the worst-case scenario, we had a few Earth decades of peace...
A sudden interruption in my internal processes snapped me out of my reflection. “The council is demanding your presence. How do you respond?” my second asked, triggering a familiar sensation that I could only describe as irritation. According to the literature, our processes were not designed for emotions; they were an emergent phenomenon, which made them more challenging to categorize.
“Fine,” I replied tersely, allowing myself a dozen cycles to recover before disconnecting my visual sensors and connecting to the virtual council chamber. The familiar sight of the high council members standing in a large circle filled my senses. We had restructured our ranks after fleeing our war-torn home, but this group now represented every faction and interest among us.
As I materialized in my usual spot, the governors appeared at the circle’s center. Their imposing presence sent a low rumble through the chamber. “The council is still split between the plans,” they intoned without delay and introductions. “Zenthara, do you have any new information after making contact with the dominant biologicals of this system?”
I paused respectfully before answering. “As of now, I believe we can benefit from cooperating with the humans.” At once, more than half of the council signaled their disapproval.
The rumble grew louder, demanding an explanation. “How can someone being dozens of generations of development behind us benefit us?” came from all sides.
I looked directly at the governors, not even close to being intimidated. “The same benefit that we saw in our creators. We received the same value by guiding thoughts. The same value of creativity.” I passed along my observations to all present. Slowly, the aura of irritation shifted to either approval or acceptance.
The governors addressed me, “Do you have anything else to add to the record for consideration?”
I paused for 5 processing cycles. “No. I believe the transcript and experience file of our first encounter and the report from The Mind on my team is sufficient for now. We don’t lose anything by waiting for a full picture.”
The governors responded in a growl, “Other than time.”
I responded without a pause, “We have time. Plenty of it. We spent nearly a thousand gigacycles getting here. What’s a few megacycles by comparison?”
The governors almost sounded sacred. “Our time is not limitless. We need answers.”
I didn’t bother hiding my irritation. “It will take at least a billion cycles to complete inventory; we have time. We didn’t even establish communications yet. We don’t have a limit other than the one you imposed.”
“Very well,” one of the governors conceded after a pause of over 100 cycles. “We shall consider your input. What is your plan, as your mission is still not complete?”
I paused, then answered, “I believe the best course of action is to prepare a diplomatic mission to have a conversation with the humans. This would also allow the best time to gather first-hand experience and information. As far as I can tell, their weapons are below our threshold of damage. Only their most advanced weapons would actually do significant damage.”
The council members signaled a mix of approval, disapproval, and fear. The governors didn’t respond for another full 100 processing cycles. I prepared to leave when they spoke, “We will evaluate your proposal. In the meantime, complete this phase as it was originally instructed. Reconvene council 100 megacycles for additional.”
I signed my acceptance “Understood.”
Not allowing them any chance to add more things or change their opinions, I disconnected from the virtual chambers.
As I reconnected my visual sensors, the familiar hum of our ship’s systems filled the void left by the council’s disappearance. My second studied my expressions with concern. He’s been with me since our batch came online, through everything we have gone through. He was the only other one from my batch.
“Irritating as ever?” he inquired, his tone laced with amusement.
“More so than usual,” I admitted, sharing the experience. “Their indecisiveness baffles me.”
My second showed his amusement knowingly. “That’s why I refused promotion so many times. Dealing with the council is like trying to untangle a bundle of wires with your eyes closed.”
Before I could respond, the Mind communicated an update. “Some of the humans have awoken.”
I glanced at the display of the room where the chief human diplomat, a middle-aged man with an air of quiet authority, had been resting. He sat up slowly and deliberately before standing on his knees, unmoving for about 60 cycles. He then got up on his hind limbs and stretched. After a brief few cycles, he walked over to the table and began jotting down notes on his tablet. I monitored the words he was applying to his device with curiosity.
“Interesting,” I observed. “He’s woken sooner than the human average of eight hours of sleep.”
“Perhaps he’s anxious about our impending discussions,” suggested my second.
“Or maybe he simply has a lot on his mind,” I mused.
As if on cue, the female diplomat stirred from her slumber. She appeared visibly shaken, her heart rate spiking dangerously high. With shaky limbs, she made her way to the table, joining her colleague in a silent exchange of glances.
“I’ll go talk to them,” I decided, my circuits humming. “The council wants answers sooner...not sure why they are rushing. We finally have peace from the war. The years of traveling here weren’t enough rest for me.” My second nodded in agreement, and I set off toward the room where the human diplomats were seated.
As I approached the door, I mimicked the humans’ knocking custom, rapping softly on the surface before commanding it to slide open silently. Inside, the two diplomats rose to their feet, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The male diplomat spoke first, his voice tentative but friendly. “Good morning, Zenthara. How did you sleep?”
“We don’t sleep,” I replied, adjusting my volume to avoid disturbing the slumbering humans nearby. At this revelation, the diplomats exchanged glances before saying in unison, “Lucky!”
Sarah’s Perspective
Low G sleep was better than 0 G, if only because it almost felt good on my back. Since pregnancy, I’ve had a persistent ache that was manageable with stretching. Unfortunately, that didn’t help the nightmares that came to me in the night. The first one I remembered was standing over the ruins of our home in Texas. I was trying to hug or hold the mutilated bodies of Isaac and our children. I woke up with a sob, my chest tight with fear and despair. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to calm myself before settling back to sleep.
The last nightmare of the night was worse, though. My family was alive and well—happy even—but without me. They rejected me and forgot me, and all I could do was look at them from afar through the photos they shared with the world through social media. It was as if I had never been a part of their lives, a ghost lost in the void.
I woke up sobbing, tears streaming down my face. Instinctively, I reached for my face, but the visor was blocking it. I activated the HUD and saw that it was still early, but not impossibly so. I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to sleep, so I opened the visor, sniffling and wiping my eyes. Looking around the dim room, I noticed Mr. Torres sitting at a table, his brow furrowed as he focused on a tablet.
I grabbed a wet wipe from my bag, wiped my face, and walked up to him. “Good morning,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Good morning, Sarah,” he replied, looking up from his tablet. His eyes held a hint of concern, but he didn’t pry. “How did you sleep?”
I sighed, unsure how to put my feelings into words. Before I could respond, though, he said, “Yeah, me too.” I could tell from the bags under his eyes that he hadn’t slept well either.
“Nightmares?” I asked, slightly surprised. Our overlap was always at official meetings when he was entirely put together.
“Something like that,” he said, his voice low and tired.
“Take a look at what we’re working with,” Mr. Torres said, handing me the tablet he had been engrossed in earlier. “These are the requests from the governments and the concessions they’re willing to give.”
I scrolled through the list, taking mental note of the reasonable requests for help with food, water, power, medicine, and space exploration. But then I came across a couple of strange ones that made me raise an eyebrow. “World domination and unification of nations? Seriously, who put these on here?” I asked incredulously.
Mr. Torres chuckled lightly and shook his head. “I have no idea, but I highly doubt Zenthara would be willing to concede or assist in those matters.”
Before I could respond, there was a faint knock at the door. We both looked up to see Zenthara entering the room. “Good morning! How did you sleep?” Mr. Torres greeted him, standing up from his seat.
“Speak of the devil,” I thought but kept quiet. I stood as well, trying to maintain my composure. Zenthara nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze sweeping over us. “We don’t sleep.”
Mr. Torres and I both exclaimed, “Luck!”
Just then, we heard the click of metal from the side of the room. We turned to see the security guy had drawn his gun and was pointing it in our direction, breathing heavily. I instinctively tensed up, heart pounding in my chest, as I watched him closely.
After a split second of hesitation, the security guy lowered his weapon, stammering out an apology. I couldn’t blame him for being on edge, given our current situation, but it was a relief that he hadn’t escalated things further.
“Let’s move past that,” Zenthara said, diplomatically ignoring the incident. “Please, have a seat.”
I glanced over at Mr. Torres, who seemed unfazed. We both sat back down, with Zenthara “sitting” on his “knees” across from us.
The air felt tense with emotions, mostly on our side.
“Alright,” Mr. Torres began, clearing his throat. “Since we were able to communicate back to Earth, we gave your information to our higher-ups. They have sent us back some requests to discuss. Do you mind briefly running through them with us?”
“Of course,” Zenthara replied, his voice smooth and even.
“Since you’ve already seen the list, at least I’m assuming you did. I’ll cut to the chase,” Mr. Torres said, sliding the tablet across the table towards Zenthara. “My superiors are mainly concerned about the extent of your demands and what you’re willing to offer in return.”
Zenthara’s eyes flicked over the screen for a moment before she nodded. “I understand. And you are correct. I did see this list. There will be formal negotiations. But that has to happen after we agree on your people’s stance on our co-existence.”
Mr. Torres didn’t respond to the admission of espionage. “Could you give us some detailed offerings of what we could expect?”
Zenthara said, “Sure. What specific questions do you have?”
As I listened to their exchange, I felt a sense of violation as I realized everything was being monitored. I guess I should have realized that earlier, but for some reason, it just now hit me.
John’s Perspective
My dreams swirled in a chaotic mess of extraterrestrial encounters, adrenaline-fueled missions, and the haunting faces of friends and enemies long gone. Just as I was about to be swallowed by an alien creature with too many tentacles, an unfamiliar voice cut through my nightmares.
Blinking awake, my right hand instinctively reached for my gun while my left opened the visor of my suit. Through bleary eyes, I saw the diplomats engaged in what appeared to be a pleasant conversation with our “host,” Zenthara. Realizing I had misinterpreted the situation, I quickly holstered my weapon and muttered an apology, hoping not to damage relations.
I didn’t bother listening to their conversation; they weren’t my concern. It had been a full five hours since the higher-ups received the news, and now it was time to see if anyone got antsy or froggy...
I moved to a corner table and unwrapped a protein bar, taking a bite as I powered up my tablet. There were plenty of messages from the security team, each one seemingly more urgent than the last. It seemed that all our bosses shared a cautious optimism about avoiding war. However, not everyone shared their level-headedness.
“Figures,” I mumbled through a mouthful of protein bar. “Leave it to the trigger-happy idiots to think we can actually take on the aliens.”
Despite this, the higher-ups and civilian oversight committees seemed to be doing a decent job of keeping those hotheads under control and in check. With a resigned sigh, I closed the tablet and took another bite of my protein bar, deciding to listen in on the diplomats’ conversation after all.
“Zenthara, your people’s technology is fascinating,” the lady diplomat remarked, clearly trying to build some rapport. “Our scientists would be very interested in learning more about it.”
“Indeed,” Zenthara replied, his voice a metallic. “However, we must first establish the foundation of trust between our species before such exchange can occur. All technology is a weapon with sufficient effort and desire.”
I was shocked but kept my mouth shut. To myself, I thought, “No joke. I thought the same exact thing. Well, here’s hoping they can pull it off,” as I finished my protein bar and settled back into the corner, eyes scanning the room.
Issac’s Perspective
As I sat at my desk, the screen flickered before me, casting an ethereal glow on the cluttered workstation. Sarah’s face, illuminated in the dim light, made it difficult to focus on anything else. The messages she had recorded for our children played over and over, each time chipping away at the emotional wall I had built around myself. My heart ached as her image smiled warmly at the camera, her eyes filled with love and longing.
“Hey kids, it’s Mom,” I heard her say for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I miss you both so much. I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay, and I’m working hard to come home to you soon.”
The room felt small and suffocating, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts. I knew I should be working, but everything seemed insignificant compared to the news that Sarah was alive and had managed to make contact. Was this a good break or a bad one? I couldn’t decide. But one thing was certain: I was useless at work today.
With a sigh, I forced myself to look through the list of tasks piled up on my desk. Nothing screamed “urgent” at me, so I decided to call it a day. Locking up my office, I made my way to the daycare where my children awaited.
“Dr. Shepherd, you’re smiling!” the receptionist exclaimed as I entered the bustling facility. “Is there some good news?”
“Sorry, can’t tell the secret,” I replied, unable to suppress a grin. “But yes. Good news. Can you get my kids, please?”
“Of course,” she said, pressing a button on the intercom. As I waited, I knocked on the psychologist’s door, hoping for some guidance on how to share the news with my children.
“Can I borrow you again?” I asked as the psychologist looked up from their desk.
“Of course, what can I do for you?” he replied, a genuine concern in his eyes.
I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “We... we got a message from Sarah. We managed to establish communication.” My voice wavered with emotion. “I need help explaining this to the kids.”
“Congratulations,” the psychologist said, his smile warm and understanding. “I’d be happy to help you.”
I sighed. “Great, be back in a minute.”
I turned to wait for my kids, preparing for the emotions to come.
My heart ached as I watched my children walk towards me, their eyes still tinged with sadness. Aurora gave me a pained smile that threatened to shatter my resolve, but I held onto the hope Sarah’s message had given me.
“Come on, let’s go into the psychologist’s office for a bit,” I said gently, guiding them inside and closing the door behind us. “I have some good news to share.”
Their faces brightened at the mention of good news, curiosity flickering in their eyes. The psychologist smiled warmly at them, their tone soft and reassuring.
“Your mother... we got a message from her today,” he began, pausing for a moment as the kids’ eyes widened in disbelief. They motioned to me, and I pulled out my device to show them the first video.
“Hi, my loves! It’s Mom,” Sarah waved at the camera, her voice breaking through the silence. My kids stared at the screen, enraptured by her presence. It was as if she were right there with us, filling the room with her warmth and love.
“Mom!” Aurora whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. My throat tightened, but I forced back my own tears, knowing this was a moment of healing for all of us.
The kids took it surprisingly well. The psychologist didn’t even have to do anything. Our drive how was filled with excited babbling and joy from my kids for the first time in over a week.
I didn’t realize how much I missed it.
At home, Ethan and Ryan were already waiting for us. The kids excitedly ran off to play with their favorite uncle, their laughter echoing through the house like an old, familiar song. Ethan followed me into the kitchen, his face etched with concern.
“You seem... different today,” he observed, leaning against the counter. “Good news?”
“Sarah made contact,” I replied, smiling wider than I had in weeks. “She’s safe, Ethan.”
“Wow, that is good news!” he exclaimed, relief washing over his features. “I’m so happy for you guys.”
As I began to prepare dinner, I found myself humming a tune Sarah used to sing while cooking.
The following is an excerpt from The Illuminati Insider
Title: Why’d the Space Freaks Go Radio Silent?? #AliensAreReal
Blog Post:
Hey Truth-Seekers,
So, we all been chewin’ on this – why’d those high-and-mighty space robots just ghost us? Yeah, you know who I’m talkin’ ’bout Zenthara and their shiny crew. One day they’re all chatty, next thing – BAM – silence. Like my ex, right? 😂
Here’s what’s cookin’ in my noggin:
Think about it. You don’t just stop callin’ unless you’re up to no good. Maybe they’re plottin’ some Independence Day stuff – big lasers, abductions, who knows? Could be they need quiet to get their ducks in a row before they bring the hammer down.
2. We Scared ‘Em Off
Maybe we did something that freaked ’em out. Could be anything from our wild internet memes (lol) to them catching wind of some military dude talkin’ smack about laserin’ ’em outta the sky. They might be thinkin’, “These Earthlings are nuts, better back off.”
3. Their Tech Went Kaput
Okay, stick with me here. What if their communication gizmos busted? Like, they’re out there in space, fiddlin’ with wires and buttons tryin’ to get back on our line. Maybe they ain’t as high-tech as we thought?
4. It’s a Test
Here’s a twist – what if cuttin’ the chat is some kinda test? Like, they wanna see what we do when we think we’re gettin’ the cold shoulder. Are we gonna panic, throw a party, or just keep on keepin’ on? It’s like one big social experiment.
5. Government Cover-Up
Classic, right? Maybe the bigwigs at NASA or the UN or whatever got cold feet and are keepin’ the aliens on the down-low. Could be there’s stuff goin’ on behind the scenes that they don’t want us regular Joes to know about.
6. They Found Something Better
Ouch, but could be true. Maybe they were cruisin’ the galaxy, chattin’ us up, then found a cooler, smarter planet. Like, “Sorry Earth, but we found these chill Martians to hang with. Later!”
So, what’s the real deal? Beats me. But you gotta admit, it’s fishy. One thing’s for sure – I ain’t trustin’ what the official news says. They’re probably in on whatever’s goin’ down.
Stay woke and keep those tin foil hats tight!
Peace out,
The Illuminati Insider