Neural Pulse, Pt. 3 (Fiction)
[check out this part on my personal page, where it looks better]
I ordered the helmet’s AI to enlarge the complex’s map and keep it suspended five meters ahead. The three-dimensional map skimmed the folds of sandy earth like a piece of fabric floating on the sea. We circled the hill while Jing and Mara flanked me as though trying to bolster their own courage.
At the base of the crater, the dome emerged. Starlight bathed its crystalline shell, but failed to banish the cavernous darkness of the dome’s three-meter-high mouth.
Mara aimed her camera at the tracks etched into the esplanade before the complex. These crisscrossing, overlapping patterns had been imprinted by the parallel treads of some vehicle, one that had worked around the smaller crater centered in the clearing. We approached. Jing knelt and traced the outline of one track with a gloved finger.
Mara and I continued toward the hole, which had depressed the earth in a five-meter circumference, exposing a rocky base. She focused on the crater with the camera mounted on her arm while pressing buttons along its side. The camera took photos, emitting a succession of flashes. Mara unclipped her Geiger counter from her belt and pointed it at the hole.
I listened, trying to distinguish the crackles.
“Should we be hearing it through the helmet?”
“I’m sending the signal to my suit.”
“What’s it telling you?”
The woman commanded her helmet to display the options. Mara’s gaze drifted up and down as she blinked to make selections. The Geiger counter’s staccato crackling broke into the radio frequency like an uninvited speaker.
“Does that mean it’s radioactive?” I asked.
“Slightly above the ambient radioactivity.”
“Enough to worry about?”
She shook her head.
“Not unless you’re planning to build a house on top of it.”
Jing overtook us while brandishing his thermal camera. He headed straight for the black mouth of the dome waiting about a hundred meters away. When we caught up to the man, his nerves were tugging at his smile.
“How do you think we should approach the unknown?” said the xenobiologist.
“You’re asking me?”
“I’ve studied every previous encounter, reviewed the reports, devoured the documentaries. I’ve read the novelizations for pleasure. But you’ve transported scientists to virgin planets.”
“I used to land as close as safety regulations allowed. I kept the ship running hot in case a stampede of scientists and soldiers pursued by some beast came charging out of the jungle. But it never happened. I just transported tired scientists and soldiers back.”
Jing raised his gaze to the black mouth of the dome, that loomed larger as we approached, and he furrowed his brow as if organizing his assumptions at a forced march. He swept the frontal space in an arc with the thermal camera. I stole glances at the blue-toned figures that materialized on its screen. The black mouth of the dome opened into a void. Orange hues painted the vault, which the starlight was heating. To the left of the dome, a rectangular, sarcophagus-like box mounted horizontally on the wall swayed yellow.
“Entrance twice as tall as those in our equivalent buildings,” Jing said. “Bipeds.”
“Or they just prefer to build them tall,” Mara said.
I commanded my helmet to shut off the projection of the complex’s map. About fifteen meters from the mouth of the dome, its darkness lightened to dark grays. Parallel caterpillar tracks extended inward until merging with the shadows.
Mara advanced diagonally ahead of us toward the right flank of the dome, and aimed her camera at the piece protruding from the hexagonal panels. An antenna oriented toward the skies, constructed of crystalline material.
“They communicate with their civilization, assuming they power the antenna.”
We drew close to the mouth of the dome. The angle from which the star poured its arctic-blue light eclipsed the interior.
My chest tingled as if I were venturing to explore a cavern whose ceiling hung with thousands of sleeping creatures. The evolutionary adaptations their isolated development had afforded them for survival would bewilder me, just like those videos broadcast on news programs whenever explorers uncovered another ecosystem.
I commanded my helmet to activate its flashlight. Its white beam illuminated the sandy ground and the layers of tread tracks. When Jing and Mara mimicked my action, their ovals of light danced across the earth and climbed upward through the emptiness toward the vaulted ceiling.
We ventured into a cavity, as if those who had constructed the dome had abandoned it before furnishing the interior. Jing studied the surroundings while frowning. Mara moved away toward the left flank, where the sarcophagus had gleamed in the thermal camera, and I followed the xenobiologist, who swept the oval of light from his flashlight along the curved wall. The light skimmed over the inner face of the hexagonal panels like it would over tarnished metal.
“No signs or engravings,” said Jing. “No evidence of language. Nothing that denotes the intelligence they employed to construct the building.”
As I twirled the electroshock lance like a baton, during one glance at the ground I noticed circular impressions distributed between the caterpillar tracks—the kind that a staff would make. I tapped Jing on the shoulder and pointed to the circular hollows. The xenobiologist crouched. With his index finger, he traced a pattern in the air.
“Six legs.”
We followed the hollows toward the left flank of the dome. The beams from our flashlights illuminated the golden back of Mara’s suit as she studied with an instrument the mounted sarcophagus. It had been molded from a single piece of bronzy metal. She turned, then narrowed her eyelids against the brightness of our beams.
“They built the dome with solar panels made of some photovoltaic material,” she said, “and the flow of electricity converges here. Batteries, I imagine. They siphon from the star all the energy they need. A fraction will drain into the antenna and the machine that manages communication.”
“And the rest for the habitation pods,” said Jing. “The hypersleep chambers.”
“Which we haven’t seen yet.” She pointed with her measuring device at the furthest end of the sarcophagus. “The electricity flows inside the panels toward the back of the building.”
We followed Mara as she tracked the wiring like an arrow marking the path. Our beams swept across the sandy earth, their white ovals distorting with the depressions and ridges of the caterpillar tracks.
“What will you call the aliens?” I asked, my voice electrified.
“I hadn’t thought of a specific name,” Jing said. “It would depend on their physiognomy, their culture. Though I had considered slipping in a reference to my young son, if the teams that review the nomenclature accept it.”
“Whoever discovers the aliens names them, I suppose.”
“You’re assuming your superiors will refrain from stealing your credit,” Mara said to Jing.
“I should be able to name them. But I will have co-discovered them with you ladies.”
Our beams revealed the curve at the bottom of the dome, and when lowered, the beams converged on a hole excavated in the rock beneath the layer of sandy earth. A polished stone ramp descended like a spiral staircase. I had stepped forward and opened my mouth to ask Jing’s opinion when a honey-colored glow emerged from the ramp, followed by a meter-tall figure gleaming bronze, that headed straight toward us.
-----
Author’s note: I wrote this novella in Spanish about ten years ago. It’s contained in the collection titled Los dominios del emperador búho.
I ordered the helmet’s AI to enlarge the complex’s map and keep it suspended five meters ahead. The three-dimensional map skimmed the folds of sandy earth like a piece of fabric floating on the sea. We circled the hill while Jing and Mara flanked me as though trying to bolster their own courage.
At the base of the crater, the dome emerged. Starlight bathed its crystalline shell, but failed to banish the cavernous darkness of the dome’s three-meter-high mouth.
Mara aimed her camera at the tracks etched into the esplanade before the complex. These crisscrossing, overlapping patterns had been imprinted by the parallel treads of some vehicle, one that had worked around the smaller crater centered in the clearing. We approached. Jing knelt and traced the outline of one track with a gloved finger.
Mara and I continued toward the hole, which had depressed the earth in a five-meter circumference, exposing a rocky base. She focused on the crater with the camera mounted on her arm while pressing buttons along its side. The camera took photos, emitting a succession of flashes. Mara unclipped her Geiger counter from her belt and pointed it at the hole.
I listened, trying to distinguish the crackles.
“Should we be hearing it through the helmet?”
“I’m sending the signal to my suit.”
“What’s it telling you?”
The woman commanded her helmet to display the options. Mara’s gaze drifted up and down as she blinked to make selections. The Geiger counter’s staccato crackling broke into the radio frequency like an uninvited speaker.
“Does that mean it’s radioactive?” I asked.
“Slightly above the ambient radioactivity.”
“Enough to worry about?”
She shook her head.
“Not unless you’re planning to build a house on top of it.”
Jing overtook us while brandishing his thermal camera. He headed straight for the black mouth of the dome waiting about a hundred meters away. When we caught up to the man, his nerves were tugging at his smile.
“How do you think we should approach the unknown?” said the xenobiologist.
“You’re asking me?”
“I’ve studied every previous encounter, reviewed the reports, devoured the documentaries. I’ve read the novelizations for pleasure. But you’ve transported scientists to virgin planets.”
“I used to land as close as safety regulations allowed. I kept the ship running hot in case a stampede of scientists and soldiers pursued by some beast came charging out of the jungle. But it never happened. I just transported tired scientists and soldiers back.”
Jing raised his gaze to the black mouth of the dome, that loomed larger as we approached, and he furrowed his brow as if organizing his assumptions at a forced march. He swept the frontal space in an arc with the thermal camera. I stole glances at the blue-toned figures that materialized on its screen. The black mouth of the dome opened into a void. Orange hues painted the vault, which the starlight was heating. To the left of the dome, a rectangular, sarcophagus-like box mounted horizontally on the wall swayed yellow.
“Entrance twice as tall as those in our equivalent buildings,” Jing said. “Bipeds.”
“Or they just prefer to build them tall,” Mara said.
I commanded my helmet to shut off the projection of the complex’s map. About fifteen meters from the mouth of the dome, its darkness lightened to dark grays. Parallel caterpillar tracks extended inward until merging with the shadows.
Mara advanced diagonally ahead of us toward the right flank of the dome, and aimed her camera at the piece protruding from the hexagonal panels. An antenna oriented toward the skies, constructed of crystalline material.
“They communicate with their civilization, assuming they power the antenna.”
We drew close to the mouth of the dome. The angle from which the star poured its arctic-blue light eclipsed the interior.
My chest tingled as if I were venturing to explore a cavern whose ceiling hung with thousands of sleeping creatures. The evolutionary adaptations their isolated development had afforded them for survival would bewilder me, just like those videos broadcast on news programs whenever explorers uncovered another ecosystem.
I commanded my helmet to activate its flashlight. Its white beam illuminated the sandy ground and the layers of tread tracks. When Jing and Mara mimicked my action, their ovals of light danced across the earth and climbed upward through the emptiness toward the vaulted ceiling.
We ventured into a cavity, as if those who had constructed the dome had abandoned it before furnishing the interior. Jing studied the surroundings while frowning. Mara moved away toward the left flank, where the sarcophagus had gleamed in the thermal camera, and I followed the xenobiologist, who swept the oval of light from his flashlight along the curved wall. The light skimmed over the inner face of the hexagonal panels like it would over tarnished metal.
“No signs or engravings,” said Jing. “No evidence of language. Nothing that denotes the intelligence they employed to construct the building.”
As I twirled the electroshock lance like a baton, during one glance at the ground I noticed circular impressions distributed between the caterpillar tracks—the kind that a staff would make. I tapped Jing on the shoulder and pointed to the circular hollows. The xenobiologist crouched. With his index finger, he traced a pattern in the air.
“Six legs.”
We followed the hollows toward the left flank of the dome. The beams from our flashlights illuminated the golden back of Mara’s suit as she studied with an instrument the mounted sarcophagus. It had been molded from a single piece of bronzy metal. She turned, then narrowed her eyelids against the brightness of our beams.
“They built the dome with solar panels made of some photovoltaic material,” she said, “and the flow of electricity converges here. Batteries, I imagine. They siphon from the star all the energy they need. A fraction will drain into the antenna and the machine that manages communication.”
“And the rest for the habitation pods,” said Jing. “The hypersleep chambers.”
“Which we haven’t seen yet.” She pointed with her measuring device at the furthest end of the sarcophagus. “The electricity flows inside the panels toward the back of the building.”
We followed Mara as she tracked the wiring like an arrow marking the path. Our beams swept across the sandy earth, their white ovals distorting with the depressions and ridges of the caterpillar tracks.
“What will you call the aliens?” I asked, my voice electrified.
“I hadn’t thought of a specific name,” Jing said. “It would depend on their physiognomy, their culture. Though I had considered slipping in a reference to my young son, if the teams that review the nomenclature accept it.”
“Whoever discovers the aliens names them, I suppose.”
“You’re assuming your superiors will refrain from stealing your credit,” Mara said to Jing.
“I should be able to name them. But I will have co-discovered them with you ladies.”
Our beams revealed the curve at the bottom of the dome, and when lowered, the beams converged on a hole excavated in the rock beneath the layer of sandy earth. A polished stone ramp descended like a spiral staircase. I had stepped forward and opened my mouth to ask Jing’s opinion when a honey-colored glow emerged from the ramp, followed by a meter-tall figure gleaming bronze, that headed straight toward us.
-----
Author’s note: I wrote this novella in Spanish about ten years ago. It’s contained in the collection titled Los dominios del emperador búho.
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