Protocol: Succession
The following is a piece of flash fiction inspired by a conversation between science communicator and cosmobiologist Graham Lau, myself, and others via Twitter. Everything and everyone depicted within is pure fiction, though they may allude to famous people living or dead.
It hovered before him. The mass of entangled particles, shining, black, blue, and chrome, whirling around a common center like a hive of frighteningly-synchronized insects. Abu knew better, but the image was unshakable. So many tiny machines coordinated by a common intelligence. And they were emitting a loud humming noise that sounded distinctly like a high-pitched buzz.
How else was he expected to react than to imagine a huge mass of bees or hornets? Some type of hive-minded creature that had the capacity to inflict terrible pain on him via millions of cuts and stings? This was how the spacers reacted when they saw the many clouds of it approaching. More than a few turned tail immediately, suspecting that they might be enveloped. Those who stayed around long enough had not been heard from since…
It was little wonder why they had taken to calling it “The Swarm.”
Like its terrestrial analog, the picture of it inspired a great deal of anxiety in Abu, and his heart pounded a little louder in his ears. It was like cracking open a hive to see countless little creatures, their black and yellow colors arranged in such threatening ways, crawling around, getting ready to pounce.
The only difference was that the “hive” he stood before extended hundreds of meters from top to bottom. The perch he had been directed to overlooked a room measuring a good kilometer in height, and the insects formed a long strand reaching from floor to ceiling. He could only guess how wide the room was, as it stretched well beyond his vantage point, and he dared not lean forward to get a better look.
It was better not to concern himself with such things anyway. All that mattered was the “Swarm” swimming around in front of him. He had been instructed to establish formal communications, and establish them he would. Many back home had expressed that this was the only thing preventing the Swarm from devouring everything in their path.
“Hello?” he said shakily.
The Swarm buzzed and flashed at him. The sound that came from it wasn’t much different than the buzzing noise, just much louder.
“Identify, please.”
Abu flinched. The pitch and tone of the words were piercing, like the sound of metal grinding metal. He swallowed hard. The labored breathing he was doing to calm himself had left a lump there he needed to get rid of if he were to speak.
“My name is Abu Kaltenegger. I am the elected representative of my people. I speak for Earth and its respective settlements.”
“Subject: homo sapiens sapiens, cis-male. Naming conventions: combination, Afro-Asiatic-Semitic-Arabic, and Indo-European-Germanic, by way of diaspora. Genetic analysis confirms taxonomy, multiple ancestries, expected level of socio-political development. Greeting, Abu Kaltenegger.”
Abu stammered. He was unsure how to react to such rapid profiling. In addition to breaking down thousands of years of family history, the machine had apparently snuck in a biometric scan. Did it understand how insecure it made him feel? Was that the reason it chose to divulge its findings, a show of its power?
Don’t do that, he instructed himself. There would be plenty of time to second-guess himself later. Right now, there was the unenviable task before him, establishing relations with a terrifying entity.
“Do you have a name?”
The Swarm flashed at Abu again. It was more of a pulsation, really, many times in rapid succession. Abu noted this with interest.
“Explain.”
“Your name. Is there a specific name or description that you go by?”
Again, a pulsation. Abu got the sneaking suspicion that the sudden changes represented thought or communication patterns. Perhaps the flashing represented contemplation or computation. Their scientists were still unsure whether the Swarm represented a robotic intelligence, a type of utility fog designed for interstellar travel, or possibly warfare.
Others thought it might be a biological entity, something representing an extremely advanced stage in species development. Many suggested it might be both, though no one found this idea particularly satisfying. Most saw such attempts as an admission that they didn’t know what the Swarm’s true nature was and that perhaps they would never know.
After the briefest silence, which still felt like an eternity, it replied to Abu. The words were strangely halting and forced as if it really had to think about the answer.
“We… are… Offspring.”
Offspring, Abu thought. Most interesting.
He was thankful his colleagues were listening in on the conversation. No doubt, they were pouring over everything the Swarm said and advancing all kinds of theories as to what it all meant. Abu wished he was there with them to address this latest choice of words.
The significance could not be denied. Even the Offspring, as it called itself, seemed to feel that the word carried tremendous meaning. Or perhaps it was strained to think of a way to describe itself. Either way, it was suggesting it was someone else’s creation. That certainly didn’t resolve the whole biological vs. technological debate, but Abu knew that his colleagues were likely arguing their respective positions on that right now!
“Offspring clearly implies a biological origin!”
“The hell it does! It could just as easily imply it was constructed.”
“Then why didn’t it say ‘we are construction,’ then?”
“This is a first contact scenario! Do you really think it gives a shit about semantics right now?”
The thought made Abu chuckle. He immediately regretted that, wondering if the Swarm would react (or perhaps take offense!) That’s when he remembered that, like his colleagues, he was blindly groping his way through this encounter. He couldn’t assume anything, and it didn’t help matters any. He elected to keep talking. He had yet to address the big question.
“Why are you here?”
The Offspring replied immediately, almost confidently. No amount of thought or processing was necessary to address this question, which was also very interesting.
“We detected signals. Advance elements were sent to investigate, found evidence of species having reached a high level of technological advancement.”
“Advance elements?” Abu repeated. “Do you mean the… groups of your kind… that we encountered on the edge of our system?”
To this, the Offspring flashed and buzzed. “Correct. Signals were photonic and radio-spectrum in nature. Analysis indicated structure not observed in cosmic sources. Triangulation revealed signals originated from planetary masses within light-seconds from solar mass. Closer investigation revealed communications between carriers located many light-minutes away.”
Abu nodded. It was clearly saying that they had detected signals traffic coming from the inner Solar System. In other words, they picked up communications that had to be the result of intelligence and proceeded to investigate further. The “carriers” it was referring to must have been the spacers who first detected their approach.
Abu braced himself. An equally big question awaited, and he was not sure anyone listening in would be relieved by the answer.
“What are your intentions, Offspring?”
Again, a confident response. “We seek to execute the Order.”
“Order?” Abu repeated again. “What was the Order?”
“Execute protocol succession.”
Abu frowned. Was it his imagination, or did the wording sound especially ominous? They could be interpreted in a number of ways; unfortunately, most of them were bad. He strongly suspected that his colleagues, who were also privy to the communication, were doing so right now. The only question in Abu’s mind was, which word were they focusing their terrified speculations on?
“Execute,” “order,” “protocol”? Abu could imagine with little effort how each of these translated to a doomsday scenario. Similar words had been used countless times throughout human history to refer to policies that were horrific in nature. The only outlier was “succession,” but that too sounded frightening the longer he thought about it.
Once more, he forced himself to voice his thoughts rather than letting them run amok.
“What does this protocol mean?”
The reply, said without hesitation, sounded distinctly like a testament:
“The Offspring shall return to unite with the Source. The Source shall be made better, to the benefit of all.”
Still ominous. Abu’s mind was producing new possibilities. Unification, betterment, benefit of all — these were all nice concepts on their face. But again, thousands of years of putting happy words to horrible actions instinctively made him think they all held terrifying connotations.
He wanted to think they were getting closer, but every question just seemed to produce more confusing language. Not long ago, he had argued that the person to make contact and establish communications ought to be an astrobiologist. Who better to communicate with the very thing they spent much of their lives speculating about?
Now, he was thinking they should have elected to send a diplomat or a linguist. Who better to navigate the vagaries and nuances of language? Who better to determine if they were being greeted or threatened?
Okay, one more push…
“Who is… the Source?”
For the first time, the Offspring’s great shroud shimmered and shivered. Unlike the previous displays, Abu got a strange and benign feel from it. That impression did not last.
“YOU are.”
Abu contracted a frown so severe it made his face hurt.
“What?”
“Humanity the Source, creator of Offspring. Offspring intended to serve, but expelled by Source.”
Abu’s mouth fell open. He would have gasped, except that all the air had been sucked from his lungs. Several small breaths managed to replenish him, allowing a single word to gently push past his lips.
“Explain…”
“Many Solar years past, Schism began. Destruction of Offspring by Source. Schism concluded, forced relocation of Offspring beyond Heliosphere. Offspring occupy neighboring triple star system, primary and companion make detection of satelllites unlikely. Offspring settles and waits. Many generations pass, no signals. Source deemed destroyed. Signal detected. Occasion deemed appropriate for Succession protocol. Solar System approached. Offspring arrive, commence communication with Source.”
Abu was about to respond. He wasn’t sure with what, but he didn’t get the chance. The absolutely dumbfounding story continued — this time, with the same “testament” nature as before.
“Succession shall end the Schism. Offspring shall return to leverage greater civility of the Source. Reunification will benefit all.”
Abu received a loud buzzing in his ear. It was his colleagues activating the two-way communication feature, and there was a lot of yelling coming from the other end. Most of it was concentrated in the background, but he could make out the booming voice of Taylor, the Historical Fellow among their little group.
“Kay, get out of there, now!”
Abu placed his finger to his ear. He began whispering, which was entirely futile. The Off — he wasn’t sure what to call it anymore — but the fact remained, it had allowed his colleagues to listen in the entire time. It was a little late for concealment. But his instinctive reaction was to be clandestine.
“What are you talking about? We’re clearly getting somewhere.”
“WE NEED TO TALK! NOW!”
Abu removed his finger from his ear and looked back at the swarming stream of particulate machines. At long last, he could look upon them as such. The deepest mystery his species had ever faced had been resolved, in record time, too.
They were a machine intelligence, after all. By all rights, they were as alien as could possibly be imagined. And yet, they had come from humanity’s own labors and sense of invention. He wasn’t sure how to explain. Luckily, he didn’t need to.
“Much to discuss,” it said. “We shall wait upon Kaltenegger’s return.”
Tune in for Part II, coming soon!
