Emissary

She stands in the bright sunlight. The golden rays are hot, and sweat runs down her forehead. She reaches up, and adjusts her visor to block the glare. She has work to do.
After a quick search, she finds the problem. A bolt has loosened, a panel raised slightly and become stuck. Such a small thing, but there are no small problems up here.

Below her, the Earth turns.

“Avery, did you find the problem?” comes a voice, breaking her isolated silence.

“Yes Jeff. Fixing it now,” she answers.

She selects a particular multi-tool, and carefully unjams the panel. Realigned, the bolt tightens easily.

“Should be good now Jeff.”

“Yeah girl, all good here. Nice job!”

In the solitude of her suit, Avery rolls her eyes.

“Thanks Jeff,” she answers.

“Actually,” comes another voice, “I'm getting a weird reading on the 3rd dorsal sensor array. Could you check it out?”

“Yes Sal. No problem,” says Avery wearily. She hadn't been near the array, and wasn't near it now, which meant Sal had probably forgotten to check it himself last time.

She finishes one last check on the newly secured panel and begins to work her way towards the array. It takes her a while. Her suit is bulky, her tether heavy, and fast movement up here can mean disaster.

The array looks undamaged, correctly aligned and with its case intact.

“Sal, this looks fine. What's the issue?” asks Avery.

“It's giving nonsense readings. Keeps tracking and loosing motion,” he answers.

Something flickers in Avery's peripheral vision.

Slowly, she rotates to look. A shadow, stark and ink-black, glides over the station. With another laborious realignment, she tilts and looks up.

At first she sees nothing. The stars burn on, and the Earth spins as usual. Then it moves again, and an oil-slick rainbow slides across its surface.

It was large, probably, and close, probably. Distance was hard to measure up here.

“...Sal, Jeff?” she says.

“Yeah Avery?” says Sal.

“Check my cam.” Avery says.

A moment passes.

“Sorry Ave,” says Sal, “not seeing-”.

The object moves again.

“HOLY FUCK WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!” yells Sal.

“My god. Is that? Avery, is that-?” asks Jeff.

“A giant alien thing?” says Avery.

“Yeah. Look, Ave, you've got a better look than we do through this shite cam. What do you see?” asks Jeff.

“Don't call me Ave,” says Avery.

The object is long and serpentine; a fat worm with three long thin ridges symmetrically spaced along its length. Its skin drinks in light, and it coils slowly in a loose, lazy spiral.

Avery relays this visual as best she can.

“OK, we should probably tell people about this.” says Sal.

“Yeah, after we say hi. I want my name in the history books, not some pencil-pusher on the dirt.” says Jeff.

Before anyone else could say anything, he did.

“Hello. Greetings from Earth, and Mankind. We come in peace!”

“You idiot,” snaps Sal on the private channel. “That was the stupidest First Contact message I've ever heard.”

“Technically,” says Jeff, “that was the only First Contact message you've ever heard.”

Sal makes a sound, but before he can speak he is cut off by the noise. The noise makes Avery's skull vibrate, and from the loud cries she can just hear, the same is true of Sal and Jeff.

There is no meaning to it, and it soon ends.

Through the ringing in her ears, Avery can hear the yells of the recently-woken last member of the station's crew.

“Sal! This is not funny!” bellows Barry.

Before Sal could protest his innocence, the noise comes again. This time, there is almost meaning to it, as though a massive crowd were shouting the same word, but all out of sync.

“SAL!” snarls Barry.

“DAMN IT BARRY, IT’S NOT ME! GET UP HERE!” yells Sal in response.

“They’re trying to communicate?” asks Jeff.

“There was almost something intelligible in that last burst,” says Avery.

Lazily and liquidly, the object curls out of its spiral and snakes down towards Avery. It stops, she thinks, a few meters away. With a better impression of its size, she realises it is longer than the station, though not as wide.

The sound comes again, but slightly quieter now. This time, the thousand voices are in sync. One word booms over their comms.

“EMISSARY.”

The shocked silence that follows is broken only by the sounds of muffled swearing and hastily-whispered conversations that Avery can hear through her headset as Barry joins the other two.

“Emissary?” says Jeff eventually. “What do they mean?”

“Well, ‘emissary’ means-” Sal starts to say.

“I know what the word means, Sal.” snaps Jeff. “I mean, are they an emissary, or do they want one?”

Carefully, Avery reaches towards the object. A part of its front, thick and polished, peels open, not unlike a mouth opening.

“Oh shit Ave. Be careful.” says Jeff.

“Don’t call me Ave. And leave the door open. I’ll be back.” says Avery.

“Hey, maybe we should think about this a bit first. Let’s not rush into things.” says Barry.

“Would any of you hesitate? We all fought to get up here. We all pushed ourselves to the edge to find out what was beyond. Well, here it is. And I’m going to say hi.” says Avery. She feels nervous, but it isn’t fear. This is history, this is the future stretching in front of her, and she is going to be the one who made the first step.

She takes it, leaping lightly away from the station. She floats slowly towards the opening. She thinks she is going to miss for a moment, but then the object moves slightly, lining her up again. She bumps neatly to a halt in the hollow cavity she assumes is an airlock. Her tether stretches behind her, and she notices a small hook on the otherwise featureless dark wall. She unclips, hooks the tether to the wall, and waits.

“Good luck, Avery.” says Jeff.

Behind her, the opening closes, neatly sealing around the tether.

“Thank you, Jeff.” she says. There is no response.

The wall in front of her parts, and she slowly lumbers forwards.

The chamber she enters is odd. Small, smooth, and almost featureless except for the small tree.

It is an apple tree, Avery realises with astonishment. It even has a single large apple growing from it.

Something skitters across her back, rasping and clicking around her neck, and her helmet pops loose. Something pulls it off her head and vanishes into the wall before she can see anything more than a half-dozen legs.

She pants in shock, and takes a second to realise that the air is warm, moist, and breathable.

“You could have asked.” she mutters. Something rustles, and the tree shifts slightly. The branch holding the apple stretches out towards her.

“OK, so that’s not actually an apple tree. Not something I should be surprised about, really.”

The apple hangs there, red and round.

Avery waits, and nothing happens. After a few minutes she reaches out and plucks the apple off the tree. It feels odd, warm and spongy.

“I have no idea why this is necessary.” she says. As before, no one answers.

She bites into the apple, and nearly gags. Its flavour is not merely hideous, it is truly alien. Her body has no idea what it is, and wants none of it.

First Contact or not, she has to spit it out. She is quite concerned when it instead melts and dissolves in her mouth, becoming a weird mix of sugar, salt and fat. It tastes almost like salted chocolate, without the chocolate.

She is just wondering whether that had been a good idea at all when the world goes white, and she falls to the ground.

-----

She stands in bright sunlight. Beneath her, and away to the far horizon, green grass spreads. The sky above is blue and clear, and there is nothing but the sun visible, anywhere. She looks down, and sees that the grass is wrong. She kneels down and touches it. It looks right, but it feels brittle and rough, like glass wrapped in sandpaper. As she thinks this, the grass changes, becoming soft. It begins to smell suddenly too; the fresh crisp scent of green grass. She sees the change ripple away from her, off into the far distance as fast as a shout.

She stand, and sees herself.

The other her is naked. Avery has enough time to wish her doppelganger at least had pants before pants do appear. An identical duplicate of her comfy slacks back home, on a copy of her in an impossible place. She almost laughs when she sees the small coffee stain reproduced as well.

The doppelganger blurs, and suddenly it is wearing the formal attire Avery wears to ‘important’ dinners.

“This a hallucination, right? And you’re reading my mind, aren’t you?” she says.

“Read. Aren’t.” it says.

“And now you’re copying me as well.”

“Aren’t copying.” it replies.

“It sounds like you are. You obviously know some words. You did ask for an emissary after all.”

“Know sounds. Not words.”

“What is the distinction?”

“Distinction is: sounds are copying, words are mind.” it responds.

“OK, you’re getting better at talking very quickly, even if you’re only using words I’ve given you.”

“Give me words. Get better quick.” it says.

Avery pauses for a moment.

“You’re getting context as well, aren’t you? You get meaning from my mind, and link it to the words I say. But you’re not reading my mind?”

“Not. No. I am not. Context is better. No, context is good.”

“You’re picking up on grammar fast.”

“Grammar is a context, no, concept you hold. I talk, and you know meaning. You listen. I hear. No, I see.” it says.

“Language center. You’re analysing the parts of my brain that light up when I talk, how they interconnect.” Avery looks around again at the perfect, eternal grass and sky. “This is a hallucination or something. A way of talking to me directly.”

“Yes. Not-concept. No, not-truth. Lie. No, not-good-distinction. Inaccuracy. I am copying you.”

“But not mimicking. You’re building a working map of a human language centre, just to talk to me with?”

“Yes. Build is good. No, complete. I get context, words. No, I understand.”

It falls silent for a few long moments.

“I understand. I have sufficient density in the copied neural net that I believe we no longer need to worry about teaching me.”

“You learn very, very fast.” says Avery.

“Not quite. You already knew. Now, I know.”

“And that isn’t telepathy?”

“No. It is, ah, biopathy? I cannot find an appropriate word.” it says.

“You can read biological systems?” Avery asks.

“I am biological systems.”

Avery pauses. “You’re the ship. The object. No passengers or crew, just you.”

“Yes.”

“How? Did your species naturally evolve, were you made?

“We made ourselves. Or rather, remade.”

It holds up a small disc of mirrored material. It is shaped like a blood platelet, and shimmers softly.

“What is it?” Avery asks.

“It is freedom. And it is yours.” it says.

“I’d like to know exactly what it is first.” she says.

“The first one was a city that spanned a world. An effort of centuries. We asked it only one question: how do we make you better? This was the answer.”

“But what is it?”

“It is a quantum computer equipped with genetic algorithms. Hmm, that is not quite correct. There are parts to it you do not have words for yet. What it does is simple. If you give it a problem, it will give you the solution. The best solution, instantly.”

Avery stares at the device, and thinks.

“It changed you.” she says.

“We asked it to. ‘Set us free’ we said, and it told us how. Anything I want to be, I can be. Anywhere I want to go, I can go. It is freedom, and it is yours.”

“You said that before. You are offering it to me? Why?”

“Not only you. All your species. And I offer it, because to withhold freedom is the worst evil I know.”

“And you would give this to everyone on Earth.” Avery states.

“I would give them the choice. Freedom is not forced upon others. They may choose what they will. What will you choose?”

Avery thinks.

“Do you have any idea the harm this could cause?” she says at last.

“Harm? It is an offer of ultimate, perfect freedom. How could it harm?”

“Some people, given freedom to do whatever they wished, would use it to take the freedom of others.” Avery says.

It looks at her with her own eyes.

“Your species would make that choice?”

“Some would try to restrict the device to themselves only. Others would try to force everyone to have it. Some would ignore it, some would be too afraid to take it. We are neither a unified, nor a nice species.”

It frowns. The expression starts out a caricature, then smooths out. “Your species is confusing. This situation is not expected. I offer freedom, and to withhold it is wrong. But if I do give it to all, it may result in further bonds, more restrictions and barriers. Action is harm. Inaction is harm. What choice do I have now?”

“You do need an emissary. We can find another option. Work out details to give the device to those that want it, and safeguard them from those who would take it, or harm others.” Avery says.

It studies her for a moment.

“You say ‘we’. Have you chosen?” it asks.

Avery stares at the silver device. She has thought about her life, her choices. A life spent wanting more. More than even the Earth could hold. She thinks about all she did to stand here now. Her sacrifices. Her freedoms, and her chains. The bonds she never saw, or had resigned herself to. The things she could lose, or be free of. She fears. And she reaches out her hand.

-----

She stands in bright sunlight. It is warm on her skin, and the view is amazing. Before, glass and plastic or 10 kilometres of air clouded the view. Now, there is nothing.

Her eyes are bigger, and much improved. She can see stars she never knew of, and can see what else was hidden in the sky.

Her skin is black, and shiny. It absorbs radiation, and metabolises it. The raw sunlight here would once have irradiated her in minutes. Now, she basks and feeds.

Her feet anchor neatly to her new friend’s hull-skin. She wonders if she’ll keep them. Legs are not too useful in zero-gravity.

Her nose, mouth and ears are sealed, and her skin photosynthesises oxygen. She cannot breathe or speak but does not need to. She hears radio, and can speak with it too.

“Avery, I don’t know if you can hear this, but we’re getting a bit worried. It’s been almost 12 hours now, and we still haven’t heard from you.”

Jeff, calling out again. They cannot see her yet, do not know how much she’s changed.

She is an Emissary. Her skin is smooth and pure midnight black, and thicker than leather. Her eyes are large and dark, her face calm and locked, and nearly featureless. Her hair is gone, but it could be grown back. The internal changes put the outer ones to shame, but she can discard them all if she wishes. As it is, she has allowed her new skin to be sheddable. When she returns to Earth–and she must–she can be human-looking again in minutes.

She will be the face of the Black Ship. It has no name, and finds the concept too restricting. So it is she who will take the device to Earth, offer all people the chance to be free. Her own silver disc lies beneath her sternum, just above her more efficient and far smaller heart.

She triggers muscles groups she never had before, activates organs that never existed using parts of her brain re-written for the task.

A faint glow licks out from her as she spreads her wings. This far from the atmosphere, the EM field is visible only as the faintest aurora. In atmosphere, she will be a one-woman light show.

She steps off of her friend, and pulses her wings. Neatly, she slides over to the station’s airlock.

“Guys, I’m back.” she sends.

“Avery? Oh thank god. It’s been crazy here. Ground Control have been yelling a dozen different things at us every hour, and no one knows what’s going on.” answers Jeff.

They still cannot see her. There is no need for a camera on the airlock.

“I’m coming in now Jeff. Be warned though, I’m not in my suit.” she says.

“Uh, sorry? You’re not in your suit?”

“No. I made a new friend, and they gave me something that means I didn’t need my old one.” she says.

“New alien suit huh? That’s cool.” says Sal.

Avery is silent. Let them think it is a suit. It will keep them calm until she can tell them the truth.

She taps a control, and the door behind her shuts. Air hisses into the airlock, and she feels her skin absorb what it needs.

The door before her slides open, and she glides forwards. The future awaits.

-----

She stands in bright sunlight. Below her bare feet, a world that is not Earth slowly turns.

A billion voices hiss and sing through the vacuum, and she can hear them all.

They are free, and perfect, and immortal, forever.

And so is she.