Some time ago I sent a pulse; it's now so far from here… A sentient vibration—you'd think too faint to hear. A terse twelve lines of quatrain in an honest, heartfelt style ... Away now, friend, some five point nine... times ten to the twelfth odd miles...
Six trillion miles, then, it had flown... in inky —coal-black— space! Who knows what stuff it's rushed right passed... or touched upon its face. Chance comets of antiquity breathing star stuff as they fry; their tails growing longer as they—moth-like—sunward dive?
I can dream of gainful contact as this sphere grows ever larger. It octuples as the radius of it doubles, math empowered. Eight times the space ...encompassed... at around this time that year. Some years from now ... and as things change? ...A change we must not fear.
One year from then... with challenged children, teaching long division? I'd presumed to be instructing... I digress regards attrition. Remains, that in some future time, *they'd* found a way to listen? Too, if understood, *these* seek me out... to clue me what I'm missing?
...Just what I need! A space-borne visit! ...My world put on notice! We're not alone, we've been observed... from way back they can quote us! Names are named and actions tallied! The hard facts top a list; a few have had their way too long — they're likely better missed!
...And still, our message hurries at a strident speed of light. It is swimming passed new planets like a dolphin made of night. Composed of ordered pulses of some thinking I hold valid, it floods the sky with questions, and it undertakes the challenge.
This *vibration* in the ether, it's as true as bursting suns. It's for ending all the ignorance which has had its, too long, run. It's for holding up its end, by God, and taking on 'the man' ... for a truer view of that which is, a place in which to stand!
It swims with other messages of different kinds of stripe. In the late Van Flandern's ether it eschews the standard hype. It hooks and jabs, the gloves come off, and blows are aimed at throats! It needles and it bickers; it survives to get their goat.
The rage you feel, regards this ode, is a ratio of degree. It's pride before a fall, mayhap, when you skin unblemished knees? A measure of your pique is sure; you might even want to fight? The degree to which you're cross, perhaps… the degree to which I'm right!
...And it's not being "on the mark," as proffered, is the issue. Though, I suspect your ill got pride... is tough as toilet tissue. Remains a fairness lacking in what we should... by all means, trust! When synergy is lost, my friend? We're pierced by specious lusts!
Our species then devolves, perhaps, and we lose a guiding light? We drown in fecal excess, friend, and are gelded by our might! We lose the prouder gains we've made, as proffered in the history? We'd return to squalid, dirty caves, eating tree bark in our misery!
This is true while single persons could be turning it around? This is true while naked wealth is laying fallow under ground? This is true as cosmic signals, then, conflate their globes in space? Yet, it remains, yea verily, we flirt with bald disgrace!
That moving finger writes as writ, and moves on... as is written. It's true no line's been altered, washed with tears, or been rewritten. The words of a performance as recorded are its truth, it reaches satisfaction its production put to use... That pulse of my "disturbance" races outwards as described, slow by far its record as it's measured, by the by, but it's a truth regardless that a "consciousness" prevailed who tried to make some sense of things and put his words to sail.
...On a chance CB rig once in French Gulch, California: "breaker... breaker..." followed by idle verse spoken some years ago—twelve lines on a cold and stormy night... still rushing outward at the speed of light, time forever frozen for a light's quick dash performed by a tenuous globe of microwave RF...
...5.859 x 10 ^12 odd miles ...(almost 6 trillion miles a year!)... beaming away in an expanding bubble of ordered and vibrating electrical code. I think the math's correct. Error or not, the point's made.
The volume of that bubble of space increases by a factor of eight every time the radius doubles... if it survived at all. Conjectured, reader, and otherwise submitted for your approval: a huge globe of evidential sentience expanding at night speed in a bubble of energized ether. Everyone is doing it.
What or whoever could have heard those lines ... as I don't think space has the sterility that some would have for it. Do you?
I remember that all my art, music, poetic commentary, and critical prose is transmitted in a similar fashion via micro-wave, and so is yours. That's comforting, somehow—self-affirming even, eh?
We're, essentially, the first of us to vibrate into space in this manner! In effect leaving something of ourselves in the firmament of an un-guessed —all but— eternity at our passing... something of us lasting forever in the unknowable ether. The sentience behind that vibration never, really, dies?
Other expressions I have made on the radio include, "Cease fire," ...and "...Chalk two... rockets in the tree-line... ...NOW." This was back in a simpler, but darker time when I was trying to stay sane in our ongoing and everlasting military pit of snakes... and nearly cocking it up at a few key turns. I'd had idle dreams of being a "star voyager..." settled for some small mastery of helicopters...
Others have made alternate transmissions over the years. Some of it is stupidity at the speed of light. I'm not excluding much of my own. Some of it is heartfelt communication. Sadly, some of it paints a better picture of ourselves to a listening *other* than we have remotely ever allowed from ourselves, eh?
Too bad. Hubris is, surely, folly.
On the late Dr. Van Flandren:
"Dark Matter, Missing Planets, and New Comets: Paradoxes Resolved, Origins Illuminated." ...is not so important because it challenges the conventional paradigm of the understanding of the universe. This book is important because it exposes the shortcomings of our current inductive system of model-building... and just how far some of these modelers will go to keep YOU worshiping at their particular alters of science!