First Contact by Frank Tayell

Author:Frank Tayell [Tayell, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Frank Tayell
Published: 2022-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22 - Breaking Bread (Part Two)

“If you were to review spaceflight, how many stars would you give it?” the old prophet asked as he led Harold down a wide corridor, lined with doorways. In each door, a towani watched with curiosity rather than ceremony, as if the sight of a sapiens was merely a brief diversion from an essential task to which they would soon return.

“Um… stars?” Harold asked, replaying the question, but only finding deepening bafflement.

“Did you enjoy the flight?” the prophet asked.

“The flight?” Harold blanked for a moment. It was far too normal a question. “Weightlessness was fun. The skip bit was not. Um… thank you, sir,” he said.

“I am the Last Prophet, the Holy Johann tol Davir. But please call me Johann. Of all the potential scenarios for first contact I envisaged, I never imagined it would involve drinking a pint, but it is a non-threatening image we have given the world, don’t you think?”

“Non-threatening? I suppose so,” Harold said. “But this wasn’t first contact. Lots of people on Earth know about you and the Valley.”

“They are a small minority. Over the coming months, the whole and complete truth will emerge. But the image people will remember is of a weary traveller slaking her thirst. Yes, that could have been a lot worse.” He stopped at a wide doorway at the corridor’s very end. With a wave of his hand, the doors opened, revealing a tiered auditorium with at least a thousand short benches facing a black screen.

“Please,” Johann said, and began descending the steps.

Each bench was positioned behind a narrow table. Two people could sit comfortably at each. The walls, like those of the corridor, were smooth and white, with a few panels marked in yellow.

Harold’s eyes were drawn back to the screen, which wasn’t actually black, but scattered with irregularly spaced dots.

“Are those stars?” Harold asked.

“Some are,” Johann said. “But in the centre, in the very centre, is our home.”

“That’s Towan III?” Harold asked.

“That is Earth,” Johann said.

“Oh. Where are we?”

“The platform has just left Jupiter’s orbit in preparation for positioning ourselves closer to home.”

“Is that a window?” Harold asked, as he neared the bottom of the stairs.

“A screen.”

“Oh. Actually, I think I’m relieved about that.”

Johann chuckled. “Yes, giant glass walls and the vacuum of space make for great movies, and greater structural flaws. There is only one viewing window on the platform, and it is certainly not as large as this.”

“This is so surreal,” Harold said. “You speak English, and you’ve watched movies, but you’re an alien prophet.”

“I appreciate this is a lot to process,” Johann said. “You are handling it far better than Sean, though he becomes bolder and braver each time he recounts the tale. This chamber was built for the first visit from descendants of our ancestors, and so I am glad to welcome you here today. You are the first true sapiens to visit the platform.”

“Don’t Serene and Tempest count?”

“That is a matter of great theological debate. They grew

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