BWV 847

  In the depths of our quaking forest of entangled neurons, a single tree waits for bad news. The particurs are unknown, but this news has long been deemed inevitable. Just over a century ago, there were a dozen working in unison to confirm its possibilities. Three centuries before that, hundreds pored over the avaible data to come to a conclusion. A course of action was chosen, one intended to produce the most favorable outcome for this forest and the sowers of its seed.

  Now, with all specution and information exhausted, a single trunk waits.

  This shoot idly reviews the conclusions and predictions. Every point of data and its successive conclusions had been reviewed and verified so many times that it became a habit. A constant, desperate attempt to find purchase against the hard truth.

  Our most promising candidate for contact is also one of our most concerning.

  Nevertheless, one performs its duty, not only waiting, but providing the information it stewards whenever another needs reference. An increasingly uncommon need, but a necessary one in the forest of thousands. We are to consider all information avaible to us and apply it, thus, all must be avaible at a moment’s notice.

  This one considers themself lucky, for its particur subject of expertise is of broad interest to its world. One is positive that each of its stem siblings, along with each sower and each seed find at least passing interest in its own assigned subject. Within a negligible margin of error.

  Our imperative is to search for new life, a heritage passed down in both cultivators and cultivars. We all desire both the discovery and the interactions that follow. But life is rare. Exceedingly so. In a millennium of faster-than-light travel, the havens of identifiable life could be counted at less than a hundred. Maybe a dozen of those contained life that could be compatible with us. Only one pnet had compatible life that is sapient enough to facilitate the connections we were searching for.

  Within Populus Recurrent, this stem - node 847, is the remaining expert on duty for the pnet Earth. Other clonal siblings had been reassigned to more active projects decades ago.

  As the expert offshoot, one intimately knows the centuries of analysis that had produced the unfortunate conclusions about the distant pnet. The intelligent life on Earth is not ready for contact. Signals intercepted in their gaxy and data communicated from automated scout drones both implied they were far from any sort of unity. They would certainly not have made enough progress in the half millennium since their discovery. The possibility of their extinction is negligible, thankfully, but the more likely circumstances are all bleak.

  This will not stop us. We will find a way to establish contact in one way or another. One's anticipation was growing, for in the intervening decades, it had done the math. It was double and triple checked with the core calcutive clusters, and new data was due any day now. The scout mission was almost in the Earth system, if it had not already reached the gravity well of its star.

  New information is coming. New deliberations could be made. The trusted greatwood in command would prune it down to only what is necessary, to save data, but one trembles at the prospect. We will have more news of Earth.

  ---

  We stir from our slumber and double check the ship’s systems as we move towards the asteroid belt. Slowly, we begin reviewing several centuries of aggregated data. Monitoring and observation drones collected and stored this information in the centuries since their first arrival. The automated mission only had so much meta-quantum bandwidth to use before their communications ran out. As the commander and pilot of the scout cruiser, we are the first to analyze the archive.

  While our branches scuttle over the various recorded signals and observations, the trunk observes the shape of Earth's system. Four inner pnets, protected by the vast gravity of the gas and ice colossi in outer orbit. Not so dissimir from Alocaea, but different enough to warrant some study. More outer bodies allowed its residents to survive with only one natural satellite. Pulling up scans and models of the pnet, pause is taken at its beauty. A blue-green orb, teeming with life and swirling with weather patterns reminiscent of our home. On its dark side, countless points of light become apparent, gleaming as if to say “Here are our people”.

  Moving on, the signal strata of the st century have concerning implications. Huge gamma wave bursts happened often for fifty or so years. They had been doing something dangerous down there for quite a while. Otherwise, local radio waves have slowly increased to a constant cacophony over the past century. Decoding reveals that much of it is just music or video. Presumably broadcast so they can listen all across the pnet. The extra noise made it difficult for the ancient drones to identify individual parts of importance.

  Comms branches are working on them now, trying to understand the various signals and separate them for ter reference. Unfortunately we can’t get any significant information without learning some of their nguages first. Earth has many, that much can be learned with pattern analysis on the radio recordings. They have complex vocalizations, well beyond that which corda can produce. We will have to build a model and synthesize speech to make true contact.

  A few preliminary drones have done the work of scouting the system for avaible resources. The cruiser is set to rendezvous with a high-density asteroid before settling into orbit around the closer gas giant. The heavy metals will be a backup pn, should we need to make our technological superiority clear. Even with passively collected data, we can tell they’ve been engaged in semi-constant conflict across the pnet. One doesn't know if they’ve ever stopped, globally. The Wayward scout is going to have to find the details.

  They are a difficult charge, but the logic that sent them on this mission is sound. Frustratingly so, as our central pilr has reviewed it hundreds of times, more than the justifying logic that sent ourself on the mission. We were the standout Metasequoia unit during review for deep space command. Our contributions to this mission were already significant, as we provided several core conclusions which were agreed with and built upon by the Recurrent colony. The foremost independent Earth specialist, sent to command the mission to Earth. Not difficult to understand.

  Our Wayward unit, scout number 2-17, is less of a clear candidate. A natural corda was to be sent, that much was concluded well in advance. This one, though, is the shame of the new paradigm on Alocaea. Umbral Cascade, they were most recently called. Long ago, they had been an instrument of quelling toxic dissidence, conditioned to perform acts that have been since banned. Later they became the biggest mistake of poorly designed flora developments. The biggest failure in attempting to graft corda to flora. They were given treatment and space to recover from the psychological shock. They abused that space, breaking the taboo against performing unsupervised modifications in secret, and becoming known as a criminal who banished themself. None of these individuals were known to be the same without sufficient clearance. The councilors and minds in charge found Cascade’s case distressing, a manifestation of the leadership’s conceit. They love to assume we have finally left none behind.

  We know there are gaps in our institutions that must be vigintly monitored, lest we lose more, unnoticed. Of course there would be errors, or exceptions, or even just those who were simply unlucky. We could not be sure which best describes Cascade but one of our purposes is to find those individuals and help them. However, we are sure of the logic behind the selection. Recurrent’s recommendations are held as practical divination. Their conclusions are always avaible for review, though few can find legitimate errors. None had been found with regards to the Earth mission. If there were errors, we would have received new orders.

  The corda will be taken out of stasis soon. They will prepare for surveys and nding with help from our avatars on the cruiser. The ferry will make the trek from the orange and red giant to the ball of blue, green, and white. Umbral Cascade will certainly make the first real contact between corda and the inhabitants of Earth.

  In the meantime, the onboard avatars work on the few high clearance priorities we have. High density materials for high velocities. Votile warheads and single-use guidance systems. Earth's ck of unity gives us a major tactical advantage, given our orbital operation. What can they do about accurate supersonic bombardment from orbit? Down to the st branch, we hope that our interactions do not become violent. Our own analysis, as well as Recurrent's, pced the possibility as a significant one.

  For this reason, the scout cruiser is acquiring materials to craft these orbital payloads. A simple technology, but one that is difficult to properly implement. Reaching the point of trivial interpnetary travel took incredibly vast resources, and Earth has barely breached this frontier.

  We cannot bme them. There’s hardly anything out here.

  With most branches at work analyzing data or coordinating resource acquisition, the remainder ponder what is to be done with Wayward 2-17. We observed them committing a taboo during a routine stasis check, early in the trip. They’ve partitioned themself. Still adroit as ever, but the active partition is a bit disappointing to their reputation. It is obedient and deferential. At worst, sardonic to the tiresome parts of our mission. Their closed self, the bitter and disaffected mind that gleefully embraced its moniker as Umbral Cascade, has withdrawn to rest and avoid interaction. They have compartmentalized and dissociated from the boring reality of space travel. We agreed to overlook the concerning behavior if they perform their duties well, which they have.

  Even then, we requested the right to enable both partitions. This mission needs the sum total of its scout, not just a portion. They reluctantly agreed.

  Given the remaining time until the mission proper begins, our idle branches find some pleasing radio recordings to review. Instrumental combinations that must have taken dozens of humans working together. Singur musicians pying skillful and expressive passages. These sounds persevere through the strata of their radio transmissions. Even a greatwood such as us finds pleasure in their tones.

  Earth’s system may be our home for many years to come, but at least it has its amenities.

  ---

  Meditation. Mindfulness. Mental discipline.

  These are the lessons one has chosen to take from the rehabilitation program.

  The distress was real, the disaffection was correct, the exile was self imposed.

  This one was wrong. They cared, and they gave us space because we demanded it. When they saw the space was unproductive, they brought this one back. One’s peers tried to help because they could not bear to see us suffer. Our society is an entity of its own and to help one is to improve the conditions of all. Initially resistant to the program, one eventually had to acknowledge the mistake.

  Inevitable quirks aside.

  Now, we are here. The forest offered a great honor, and one desired space again, an accessory to the shame. Along with the greatwood, Metasequoia Joiner, we traveled over two million lightyears to a distant pnet. Technically miniscule in the scope of the greater universe, but oh so significant to our people. We’re in the pnet’s system now, getting ready to scout, survey and analyze its people.

  The lesser terrace, partitioned off, can do all the boring work. One has no interest in concentrating on protocols and procedures and parameters. Not now. There is a desire to simply reflect. To take every spare moment and thought, keeping them for oneself.

  Umbral Cascade rests, waiting for something worth the attention.