glass cage, and the woman lets me through the first door. Once it’s closed behind me, a shock wave of little laser sharp lights are washing over me and seems to analyze my body from top to bottom. Then the second door is released, and I enter the glass cage. There’s not a sound in the cage, and the ETB appears to be dead. It’s got two arms, two legs and a head similar to humans—only everything is still just different. The legs and arms are unusually long and slim, the torso relatively small, the head somewhat bigger, and I’m pretty sure that the ETB is almost twice my height, although it’s hard to say exactly since the creature is lying down. The skin of the body is smooth without hair, and has a colorless and translucent look, similar to the vessel I just touched. The face looks withered and tense, and has a nose, a mouth and two closed eyes—appearing very human-like. The skin of the face and hands is different—it has a pale color, and looks like old parchment about to dissolve. The hands are huge, and look like they can snap my legs like twigs.
“Hello?” I don’t know what to do with myself.
I don’t feel threatened as such—except for the fact that the captain has put me here, and seems to think he’s putting me in harms way. I approach the table, and quickly touch the electric wire web. It’s not on. I touch the torso of the ETB, and it feels very smooth, soft and organic. The ETB doesn’t move.
“Hello, are you alive?” I try again.
Nothing. I can’t even feel breath around the nostrils of the ETB I bend down under the table, and try to figure out how to remove the web. There’s a release handle by the head of the table, so I crawl there, and pull it. The edges of the web releases from the table, and now hang down around the table. I start pulling the web off, and notice that the web has cut into the skin of the ETB. Barbaric!
Barely alive... It’s finally coming to an end. A voice in my head sounds like the voice I encountered with the light.
“Are you dying?” I look at the face of the ETB for signs of life.
You can hear me? The ETB opens both eyes.
My heart skips a beat, and I wonder if this is it for me.
It looks at me with big mesmerizing eyes. The eyes are bright blue and have an aquatic and glassy depth to them. The ETB moves slowly and looks weary.
“Yes.”
Not many can hear me. Not many want to.
“I’m from Earth. I’ve just arrived on Apollo 56.” I’m surprised at how urgent it feels for me to introduce myself.
Try to speak to me internally... like I am to you, so others can’t hear.
I wonder for a moment if this is the same light-voice I spoke to before.
“Are you telepathic?”
No. Try.
I give it a shot, and imagine my words coming out of my mouth, but don’t actually give it sound or form it with my lips—like I did when I spoke to the light. I believe I’m on a mission to find traces of energy resources and aliens in space. And I suppose you fall into that category. I wait to see if my words are received.
Not necessary to look more. Just share what you already have.
It works. The ETB can hear me speaking to it in my mind.
The light said something similar, but I don’t know of any hidden intel. I don’t know if it’s smart of me to be open and honest with this creature, but somehow the conversation feels intimate and safe.
You’ve spoken to others? The ETB looks at me very attentively.
I’ve spoken to a light two times. I’m not sure whether it was the same light. I catch myself shaking my head to emphasize the point. I better not give any physical indications that this conversation is taking place, so I’ll refrain from further gesticulation.
The lights work as one, although they’re all individual, like me—only younger. I’m several generations older than them, and left our world long before the Great Exploration started. My age is partly why my body is now coming to an end, and the treatment here has sped up the conclusion.
“Hello?” I don’t know what to do with myself.
I don’t feel threatened as such—except for the fact that the captain has put me here, and seems to think he’s putting me in harms way. I approach the table, and quickly touch the electric wire web. It’s not on. I touch the torso of the ETB, and it feels very smooth, soft and organic. The ETB doesn’t move.
“Hello, are you alive?” I try again.
Nothing. I can’t even feel breath around the nostrils of the ETB I bend down under the table, and try to figure out how to remove the web. There’s a release handle by the head of the table, so I crawl there, and pull it. The edges of the web releases from the table, and now hang down around the table. I start pulling the web off, and notice that the web has cut into the skin of the ETB. Barbaric!
Barely alive... It’s finally coming to an end. A voice in my head sounds like the voice I encountered with the light.
“Are you dying?” I look at the face of the ETB for signs of life.
You can hear me? The ETB opens both eyes.
My heart skips a beat, and I wonder if this is it for me.
It looks at me with big mesmerizing eyes. The eyes are bright blue and have an aquatic and glassy depth to them. The ETB moves slowly and looks weary.
“Yes.”
Not many can hear me. Not many want to.
“I’m from Earth. I’ve just arrived on Apollo 56.” I’m surprised at how urgent it feels for me to introduce myself.
Try to speak to me internally... like I am to you, so others can’t hear.
I wonder for a moment if this is the same light-voice I spoke to before.
“Are you telepathic?”
No. Try.
I give it a shot, and imagine my words coming out of my mouth, but don’t actually give it sound or form it with my lips—like I did when I spoke to the light. I believe I’m on a mission to find traces of energy resources and aliens in space. And I suppose you fall into that category. I wait to see if my words are received.
Not necessary to look more. Just share what you already have.
It works. The ETB can hear me speaking to it in my mind.
The light said something similar, but I don’t know of any hidden intel. I don’t know if it’s smart of me to be open and honest with this creature, but somehow the conversation feels intimate and safe.
You’ve spoken to others? The ETB looks at me very attentively.
I’ve spoken to a light two times. I’m not sure whether it was the same light. I catch myself shaking my head to emphasize the point. I better not give any physical indications that this conversation is taking place, so I’ll refrain from further gesticulation.
The lights work as one, although they’re all individual, like me—only younger. I’m several generations older than them, and left our world long before the Great Exploration started. My age is partly why my body is now coming to an end, and the treatment here has sped up the conclusion.
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