Moments like this were the reason Ti-Ro loved her job. A half hour before, things had been completely normal. Now, she was a part of what would likely be the most important event in Zani history. A massive heat signature had abruptly appeared in the skies above Hent, some distance beyond the planet’s orbit. Natural objects did not emit heat signatures this substantial, and they certainly didn’t appear out of nothing. While few had the courage to say it, it was at the forefront of everyone’s mind: Aliens. The last of the doubters had recently been silenced when the object had drawn closer and begun to emit radio signals.

She stared at the monitor in front of her, taking in the image displayed there. Her incredibly complex and powerful eyes poured over the screen, and she absentmindedly scratched at her ghostly-pale skin with her tails while she waited for the file to load. On it were the image and sound files that the best computers on the planet had been able to parse from the alien signal. For what felt like the hundredth time, she played the file, and the computer struggled to make a graphical representation for a program that had been designed for technology so advanced it made it look like a stone tablet and stylus by comparison.

It was a collection of images and sounds that the entire scientific community was pouring over with an almost fanatical attention to detail. It was several dozen incredibly basic images, accompanied by sounds that were at once alien and familiar. The most baffling part was the brief, yet noticeable pauses between each one of them. Their purpose was the primary question plaguing the scientific community, and the various chat channels on the academic network were awash with hypotheses and speculation.

The sounds and images in the package played on a loop. It began with a series of sequential beeps. First one beep, then two beeps in a row, then three, and so on. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the beeps were meant to signify numbers, but why the aliens felt the need to include it was a mystery. The beeps were followed by some seemingly unrelated images and sounds. It began with an image that was completely alien in appearance, and yet also very obviously meant to be a depiction of water. This was accompanied by the sound of water. Rain falling, a river flowing, and so on. The depictions went on, there was what seemed to be a crude depiction of ice after this, followed by the sound of steam, and rushing wind.

Ti-Ro laid back, closed her eyes, and listened. She moved her head as the sounds changed, instinctually angling her auditory organ in response to the changing stimuli. The sounds grew evermore complex and undecipherable, until it looped back around to the numbers. She lay still a while longer, mesmerized by the numerical tones. Then, the sounds of the rushing river and pouring rain came again, and snapped her out of it. It reminded her that she was parched. She’d been chatting with a colleague for some time over the academic net, and the dryness in her throat had increased.

“I could go for a drink.” she said, lazily rising to her feet as she went to get one.

“I could go for a drink.” a crude, electronic voice said back to her from her computer’s speakers.

She whipped back around, and rushed back to her chair.

A loud buzz played. “I could go for a drink.” came the electronic voice again. Then, the ice came.

Thoughts whirled around in Ti-Ro’s head as she hypothesized and speculated. Finally, she settled on a course of action.

“Ice.” she said into her microphone.

“Ice.” the voice repeated back. After a time, the loud buzz came again. “Ice.” it said again.

It can’t be that simple, can it? Could it actually be the case that no one in the entire scientific community had thought to try talking back to the program with a microphone?

What is it they say? “Hiding in plain sight”?

The sounds of whistling steam and blowing winds came again, along with accompanying images.

“Steam? Or maybe vapor?” she said aloud.

“Steam? Or maybe vapor?” the scratchy electric voice said back

She pondered more. What purpose did this serve? Was it some kind of test, or quiz? Why water? And why the numbers before that? What were the aliens trying to communicate to her people with this?

A loud buzz. “Steam? Or maybe vapor?” the voice said again. It then went on to the next file

No, vapor isn’t the right word. It wasn’t just water, there was also that sound of blowing wind. Maybe hydrogen and oxygen? Or maybe just gasses in gener-

She sat up in her chair, heart pounding. Not “vapor”, but “gas”. Not “ice” but “solid”. Not “water” but “liquid”. The three states of matter. Basic, fundamental concepts. Preceded by numbers. Followed by more basic concepts.

They aren’t trying to communicate something to us, they want us to communicate something to them.

She restarted the file, from the very beginning. A single beep chimed.

“One.” she said.

“One” the machine said back.

—-

It seemed so obvious to her, now that she was knee-deep in her work. It wasn’t a message. It wasn’t a test or a quiz either. It was a tool. A translation tool. If her hunch was correct, the aliens were trying to establish a basic understanding of her people’s language. She’d been up all night, puzzling over the meaning of the various images and sounds, and what word was most appropriate for expressing that meaning. The images and sounds had grown increasingly complex and alien as the concepts they tried to express became more abstract. Ti-Ro saw things that she had not thought Zani computer graphics technology capable of producing. Logically, she knew that her enigmatic guests were vastly more advanced than her own people. However, to see it expressed before her own eyes was astonishing, almost terrifying.

This computer program had been designed on a completely alien computer architecture and logical framework, and yet it had not only been able to adapt itself to her people’s technology on the fly, it had managed to get more usage out of the machine’s resources than programs explicitly designed to run on it could. Ti-Ro was no computer scientist, but even to a layman it was obvious that technology like that was centuries, if not millenia ahead of her people. So, her dedication to her task had become about more than just her scientific curiosity. These beings could wipe out her entire civilization at the press of a button. Some kind of agreement, or understanding had to be reached with them. For the survival of her species.

An image of an alien city was displayed on the screen. Crude approximations of alien voices and vehicles and machinery brought the image to life with sound. It was almost familiar, despite its alien sense of architecture. Then, there was a bright flash, and a horrifically loud noise. The flash faded, and in its wake was the ruins of the city. No sound played but that of howling winds.

The program waited with an expectant silence for the word Ti-Ro would assign the things she had just seen. She stared in horror. Her people knew of such things. While destruction of such a scale was new to her, such senseless death and waste was not. It was a terrible thing, something that her people experienced a few times in their history, during the terrible crises that had struck their civilization at pivotal times.

She tried to speak, but found herself hoarse. She cleared her throat and spoke. “War.”

“War.” the machine said back. A loud buzz. “War.”

The next image showed that same ruined city. Yet, the howling winds had faded. Slowly but surely, the city was nursed back to health. Buildings were rebuilt, voices and machinery could be heard, and life filled its streets again. Ti-Ro knew of this as well. It was something that all of Ti-Zan knew well. They had enjoyed it for centuries, as that was how long ago the last terrible civil war had been fought.

“Peace.” she said.

“Peace.” the machine said back.

A loud buzz. “Peace.” it said again. This time, however, there was nothing following it. It was the last thing in the file.

However, instead of looping back around to the beginning, the program closed itself out.

“Gratitude.” came from the speakers.

Ti-Ro looked on in surprise. Is it finished?

She heard an electronic hum from outside. She went to look out the window, and saw one of the large radio dishes that were the pride of the lab she worked at begin to turn.

“Oh no…” the young scientist said in dismay.

It’s…transmitting?

“Nonononononononononono-” like all zani, Ti-Ro instinctually lowered to all fours when running at top speed. She galloped down the hall, and nearly knocked over her supervisor in her rush, managing to skid to a stop just short of him.

He looked on in surprise. “Any particular reason you’re sprinting down the hall?”

“A-...” An athlete, she was not. She took a moment to catch her breath, before stuttering out the most important word of the sentence.

“Aliens!”

—

Master Nen-Lig-Phin (his friends call him Nen), Chief Astrophysicist of the Zani State, tertiary member of the Governing Council, and accomplished scientist, felt a terrible itch between his plates. It was an itch he’d first developed as a father, which inflicted itself upon him whenever one of his litter would manage to do something so stupid it outdid all of their previous antics. His children were all long ago grown now, and his sons had no doubt developed itchy plates of their own, but the itch had reintroduced itself to Nen since his rise to his current position. He oversaw every single astrophysicist in all of Ti-Zan. And his subordinates had a tendency to give him an itch worse than any produced by his offspring.

Young researchers were a lot like children: simultaneously incredibly bright and agonizingly stupid. And also prone to falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

One of Nen’s proverbial children sat in front of his desk, staring up at him fearfully.

“So, let’s get all of the details together: You made a major breakthrough in deciphering alien communication. Without telling anyone. Then you spent hours feeding it information about our language under your own authority based on your own whims and biases. Without telling anyone. Then, you sent this transmission on one of our radio dishes to the alien ship currently orbiting our planet- You might be familiar with it, it’s the one we know absolutely nothing about -and, once again, you did it-”

“...without telling anyone?” she interjected meekly.

He gave a plastic smile. “Ah, well I suppose it’s only natural for your sense of pattern recognition to be so astute, all things considered.”

He leaned forward onto his desk, his smile wiped away. “My dear, dear girl. You really don’t comprehend what you’ve done, do you?”

“I-...I know I messed up, but I didn’t know it would automatically-”

He leaned forward even further, until he was practically on top of his desk. “ ‘Messed up’? This is leagues beyond messing up, Ti-Ro. This is the single most important event in our entire history. The future of our civilization, our race, our species, hinges on the events of the next few days. That is an alien starship orbiting our planet. Every action it has taken since we first saw it has either defied our understanding of physics or demonstrated its vastly, vastly superior technology. It is clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that they could wipe us out with so little effort as to be almost comical. And yet, these beings instead reached out to us. They want to talk to us. Learn our language. Who do they have as their teacher? A highly-qualified team of our finest minds? The greatest linguists, scholars, and philosophers our species is capable of producing?”

“Nope...” He reached out and flicked her forehead.

“Ow!” Ti-Ro said

“...just you.” Nen finished.

He collapsed back into his chair. “You’ve gotten to explain yourself to me, now I get to explain myself to the Head of Physics, and I’m dragging you with me. And believe me, I’m going to throw you under the bus so hard they’ll be digging bits of burnt rubber out of your tailbones for months.”

—

Grand Master Tet-Yur, Head of the Ministry of Science of the Zani State, primary member of the Governing Council, and talented shell-flute player, gazed upon the three people standing in front of her. There was a furious-looking Head of Physics, a resigned-looking Chief Astrophysicist, and a terrified-looking Junior Researcher. They all looked like they’d just come out on the wrong side of a leviathan hunt. Reaching out with one of her tails, she took a depressingly-expensive bottle off the top of her bookshelf, and set it on her desk.

She reached out with both tails and snatched up four glasses. Uncorking the bottle with her hands, she began to pour. “First you drink some tugi, then you tell me why you’ve ruined my evening.”

“I don’t drink.” said the Head of Physics, continuing to stare past the Minister.

“I certainly do.” said the Chief Astrophysicist, snatching up his glass and downing it all in one go.

The Junior Researcher took hers and stared at it.

“Wonderful. Now, the evening-ruining.” said the Minister of Science.

The Head of Physics began. “Well, the Astrophysics Department has taken it upon itself to doom our entire civilization.”

“Oh, I’ve had just about enough of your melodramatic quotes you paper-plated-” began the Chief Astrophysicist.

“Gentlemen. Less testosterone, more explanations.” the Minister interrupted.

The Head of Physics was cowed, and Nen decided to speak. “Junior Researcher Ti-Ro made a major breakthrough in the deciphering of the aliens’ transmission. Essentially, Unfortunately, in the process of her interacting with the message, it transmitted itself. Back to the ship in orbit, judging by its direction.”

“The message transmitted…itself.” the Minister said flatly.

“Yes.” Nen said back, equally flat.

“And you just, what, watched while your subordinate did this?”

Nen spared Ti-Ro a sideways glance of pity. “...Unfortunately, the Junior Researcher neglected to mention any of this to her supervisor and, by extension, I didn’t know it was happening until the transmission was already away.”

Tet-Yur turned to Ti-Ro. “You made the single most important scientific breakthrough in our modern history…and you didn’t tell anyone?”

Struggling to keep her eyes from looking longingly at the window, Ti-Ro answered. “...yes.”

“So, what was the answer to the transmission, in the end?” The minister asked.

“Is this really what we need to be focusing on right now, Minister?” the Head of Physics interjected.

“Shut up, Qet.” the Minister replied, not looking away from Ti-Ro. “I’m waiting, Junior Researcher.”

Swallowing her bone-chilling terror, Ti-Ro began. “Well, I was listening to the file loop. I got kind of…well, thirsty. So, while it was still playing, I got up and muttered something to myself, I can’t remember what. And…the program said it back to me! I’d left my mic plugged in you see. I had been chatting with my coworker over the net you see and-...” she looked at the Minister, listening patiently.

“...-not important. The next set in the loop played, and I said something again, and it repeated it again. Then, it hit me. Water, Ice, Vapor. Liquid, Solid, Gas. The three states of matter! This was following those series of beeps that were obviously denoting numbers. Why include these things? Because they’re the ‘fundamentals’. It clicked then. They were trying to learn our language, starting with the absolute basics. I went on down the list, and-”

“Hold on. How did you know this?” the Minister interrupted

“I…what?” Ti-Ro said.

“So, you’re telling me you acted on your…assumptions? A hunch? Not cold, hard, evidence. You know, the thing that our entire field is based upon?”

“Now, hold on, Minister.” Nen jumped in. “There’s plenty of room for this sort of thing in our ‘entire field’. She had a hypothesis, and she chose to test it in order to study the results, all in pursuit of the truth. That is what our field is, Minister.”

Tet-Yur held out her tails to her sides, the Zani body language equivalent of fair enough, I suppose.

“Alright, she was testing her hypothesis. Perfectly good science. However, her test involved the single most important piece of information in the history of Ti-Zan. A piece of information we know absolutely nothing about. And, indeed, still don’t.”

She turned to Ti-Ro. “I’m sure you really didn’t know that it was going to transmit itself. That’s precisely the problem.”

Nen jumped. “I’m not arguing that she’s not an idiot, because she is, but-”

A knock came from the door.

“It’s open.” said the Minister.

The door swung open, and the Minister’s secretary stood there. “Uh…ma’am. We’ve gotten another transmission from the aliens.”

Tet-Yur grabbed the Head of Physics’ untouched glass of mushroom liquor from her desk and downed it.

—

The transmission played on screen and a lot of distressingly-important people stood next to Ti-Ro and watched it once again. It was a simple (ish) pictogram video. It showed a high fidelity image (so high fidelity that it stretched Zani graphics technology beyond its limits) of the western hemisphere of Hent. Then, two horizontal parallel lines slid towards each other from opposite ends of the screen, stopping short of actually touching. This was immediately followed by two vertical lines doing the exact same thing. The part of the planet that was inside the small square the two sets of lines created was then blown up to fill the entire screen.

The image displayed the lands that were the home of all Ti-Zan (minus some of their more ambitious colony-burrows). Effectively, it served as a map. Then, the same line trick was done again, and the patch of land that was in the square was blown up once again. It depicted the dust plains of Igar. Dry, uninhabited, and flat as newly cut stone.

Keb-Soot-Ferri, Mediator of the Governing Council, and the closest thing to a singular leader Ti-Zan had, spoke. “I’m no rocket scientist, but that looks like a pretty good place to land a rocket.”

Yenet, the Minister of Discovery, hummed his agreement. “Spacious, flat, and far from civilization. It’s perfect. We’d actually considered it for a testing site.”

“Well, it looks like we’re meeting our guests in the front lawn. The Discovery and Diplomacy Act means I’ve got full authority to negotiate on behalf of the Governing Council.” the Mediator said

He turned to the people in front of him. “I’ll want Yenet, naturally. Tet-Yur, too. My staff…” he turned to Ti-Ro. “And you too, I think.”

“Me?” Ti-Ro squeaked out.

The Mediator smiled with pity. “You wrote their dictionary. You’re responsible for making sure it works. Good luck.”

Ti-Ro wanted to bury her head in the sand.

How am I supposed to do that?