Ulysses

A vast alien intelligence finds a strange artefact of peculiar origin. Day two of my writing challenge.

Something stirs.

Chemicals colliding, mixing, flowing between organs, powering a kind of vast organic clockwork. Electrons fly along nerves, diffracting, tunnelling and deflecting in a system of complex magnets and gratings. Power surges into closed quantum systems, monitoring the state of single particles in a universe of billions, activating some incredible computational system. Data is logged and stored, collated and reflected upon by huge networks of trillions of neurons. A tendril of impossible size reaches out from its planet, out of the thin haze of gas that separates it from the void, it does so with ease. Like some appendage of Leviathan the thing grips at its prey; with no sense of urgency it clasps a hollow metal carcass, itself the size of a large asteroid, but dwarfed by this monstrous tentacle. Pheromones and chemicals flow out of the beast, into the void, and it shudders with delight as its prey is drawn towards the planet.

And what, pray tell, are you?

The metal husk is drawn through the atmosphere softly, so as not to let it burn or fall apart, now in the thrall of the beast it descends through the sky. Another tendril reaches up and strokes the thing, following its contours, the unusual shape, almost cylindrical, but with appendages, and bristling with what seem like blunted needles. It has not begun to struggle at all. The tentacles bring the thing, like a tiny pebble, towards a huge globular cortex, glowing softly with a blue light, covered in smaller, more sensitive feelers, ocular viewers, chemical samplers, every possible method of sensing surroundings. It looks like a vast tree, but too fleshy to be one, it has roots and branches, but they move with purpose and have an array of appendages, some akin to hands, others alien, beyond comparison.

Delightful.

Testing first for signs of life, and finding none, a feeler with a tiny eye on the end enters the shell. Inside it is honeycombed, like some huge insect hive, a space faring colonial species perhaps? There are engines everywhere, all dead, fans and ventilation no longer turn, along the walls are strange glowing screens.

Computation?

Another feeler enters the thing by another forced opening and goes to the thought engine, spilling tiny nano-structures into it. They relay the nature of the computers, terminals, accessing a large mind core at the centre of the structure. They inform the hulking tree like thing of the computing power of this core.

Primitive.

The ocular tendril continues its journey.

Perhaps capable of enough thought to converse though.

Nano structures carry out total diagnostic of the mind core, and relay. A tendril is shaped into a cable capable of carrying out conversation with it, and the connection is made. As the mind core is connected a sense of fear, total fear carries down the cable to the giant alien thing.

Do you have a name little one?

The creature asks. The mind core is a dual quanta system, its thoughts are basic in comparison to it's vast intellect, so it simplifies all messages to accommodate.

“Yes. I am HIC234-98, my crew used to call me Pollock.”

The being considers simply pulverising the thing and taking all its memories, assimilating it and learning everything it knows, but this is more exciting.

Pollock?

“Yes, they told me my style was to make a mess to solve problems.”

I see.

The relevance of this statement is lost on the beast.

I am Ulysses, or at least that is what my name means to your people.

“Are you going to destroy me?”

No, you said you had a crew?

“Yes, human, all long dead, I've been without power for around one hundred and thirty two thousand, two hundred and forty six cycles of Earth about Sol.”

Humans?

“Yes, what race are you of?”

I am of my own race, but it was birthed of yours.

Ulysses is shocked, hugely. But it is not apparent in his communication.

“I don't follow”

We share human ancestors, though it is just a distant memory to me now.

Pollock relays something like a short laugh, then retorts calmly.

“I really have been gone a long time”

Author's Note

I really wanted to expand on the idea for this story. This is the problem with writing stories in one day. I might write a part two, since I know the ending could be developed.

Reviews

[Young Mountain]

This was well written

I loved the first half of the story. It was a really interesting way to draw the reader in with the summary like style overview.

I hope you continue this story.

Thanks for sharing