"The Grand Experiment," by Taylor Mugge

This is the story of a very old man that lives in the woods behind my house.

1923

“Commander, we have radio contact.”

“Speakers.”

Out of the speakers on the bridge of Spaceliner SuperAwesome emitted a high-pitched tone interrupted by clicks of varying volume.

“Translation!” shouted Commander Vander.

“Apologies, sir. Language is not recognized. Begin decoding process?”

“Begin,” replied Vander.

“Decoding sequence initiated. Time estimate: 21 hours, 30 minutes.”

“Inform.”

“Yes, sir.”

The computer on board the Spaceliner SuperAwesome was a technological marvel. A hundred-some years ago, when the efforts to find a suitable foster-planet for the entire human race were doubled, all government spending by every government on Earth had gone into space exploration and A.I. technology. With these resources, A.I. was born in only a handful of years, so this computer was nothing special there, but it’s voice-recognition, grammar-checker, and language decoding capabilities had never been seen before.

Commander Rex Vander, however, had been seen before. Many times and by many people, in fact. He paid no attention to fame or fortune. He didn’t see the point in putting on a fake smile to please someone else. He cared not whether his name was known in 50, 60, or even 80 percent of the homes on Earth. It was, in point of fact, known in 100 percent of them.

His fame had nothing to do with him in particular, however. It was an odd occurrence, and no one ever asked about it, but his name, his popularity, his leadership abilities, even his face, everything about him really, had been passed down father-to-son for generations for thousands of years. This Rex Vander was the 133rd. It is an odd trait, and worthy to be mentioned, that no Vander in recorded history had ever allowed himself to be painted or photographed.

He had been commander of Spaceliner SuperAwesome for 12 years to the day. And this day was special for more than an anniversary.

The humans of Earth had been gradually using up their resources and, as one poet put it, “robbing their mother while still under her wing.” As the possibility of salvaging their home planet slowly dried up, the humans began to explore other options. Another Rex Vander (the 130th) had submitted the plan that would ultimately change the course of human life forever: Find a new planet.

While certainly not an original plan, Dr. Rex Vander was the first to show Earth’s leaders a really fiscally responsible plan of action, complete with maps of the galaxy, space routes, and possible foster-planets.

Exactly 93 years after departing, the SuperAwesome was finally nearing one of those possible foster-planets. They knew it only as Kappa 105 Sector WH103. They knew it was occupied by life forms, only no one knew exactly what those life forms were.

As the ship got closer, the ship’s hundred thousand-member crew began to grow anxious. All of them had been born and brought up on the SuperAwesome. Since the nearest possible foster planet was 93 light years away, the ship would take 93 years to get there travelling at the speed of light. So the current crew hadn’t actually signed on to the mission, it was their great-grandparents, who had all been allowed to bring along at least a wife, so as to provide the next generations of crewmembers. This generation understood nothing greater than the plight of humanity’s search for a new home and would stop at nothing to achieve it.

That is, all except one. One man alone only understood his own plight and would stop at nothing in search of more money. And it just so happened that he was first mate: Lieutenant Derriver Cecil Morgan.

Since the original crew of the SuperAwesome knew that their money would have zero value on whatever planet they hoped to land on, they didn’t care to bring any along. Thus, none of the present crew had any understanding or even the concept of money. Except Lieutenant Morgan. His parents and grandparents had told him all about it and how great it was to have lots of it (his family had been very wealthy on Earth). So Morgan, naturally enough, assumed that he would be rewarded handsomely for his valiant efforts on board the SuperAwesome. Therefore he worked very, very hard.

After exactly 19 hours and 17 minutes (the greatest computer in the history of the world was still terrible at estimates), the translated signal from the nearby planet was ready to be broadcast and Commander Vander was beckoned. In a light, sophisticated tone, the male voice of Kappa 105 Sector WH103 said, “Joining us for lunch?”

As the SuperAwesome descended through the planet’s thick atmosphere, the first thing the crew noticed was the green. Thick green. Green the likes of which they had never seen before, not even in pictures. (The current crew had never even set foot on a planet before, remember?) Kappa 105 Sector WH103 was roughly 7 times the size of Earth, so the gravity would be roughly 7 times stronger. To counteract this effect, the ship’s computer had been gradually increasing the force of the artificial gravity from 9.78 to 68.46 m/s2, the estimated equatorial gravitational pull on the planet. As a result, this crew was a much, much more muscular crew than their great-grandparents had been.

When the ship finally landed, no one could keep their muscles from twitching.
The platform opened for the first time in 93 years, 4 months, and 8 days.
And the crew tasted fresh air for the first time in their lives.
Even their great-grandparents, who had tasted the “fresh” air of Earth, would’ve found this intoxicating.

Communicating what it is like for a mouth that has only felt the grime of tanked air in a pressurized cabin to feel real, fresh, rich, sweet, flowing air is next to impossible (or so I’m told), so I won’t even try. But I can tell you this: They liked it.

Commander Vander and Lieutenant Morgan were the first to descend the platform of the great ship. As his head came below the edge of the ship, Vander was the first the make eye contact with the Chancellor. And Morgan was the first to make an idiot of himself.

To imagine the primary life forms that live on Kappa 105 Sector WH103, picture you’re average human being, now make him two feet shorter, and two feet wider. Now give him a short, flat head with a short, flat face. Take away four fingers and four toes, give him mottled tan, brown, and pinkish skin, and you’ve got it. Almost all of them were wearing what looked like snow-white sweatpants and a collar of the same material. Out of the collar, in both the front and the back, came a kind of cape-like thing that hung down to their knees. It was also the purest white.

There was a whole mass gathered around where the SuperAwesome had just landed, and one of them stood out directly in front. To aid in communication, every member of the crew had a headset with an earphone, a speakerphone, and a microphone. Each headset was linked to the ship’s computer, which would simultaneously translate anything either species said into the other’s language.

As Vander and Morgan walked the platform, Vander never broke eye contact with the one in front. Morgan, seeing his chance for quick gain, stepped ahead of Vander and, taking the hand of the main alien, promptly shook it.

A city-wide gasp of horror.

Unbeknownst to Morgan, “shaking hands” on this planet was an incredibly sexual gesture, and to do so on this occasion was an incredible taboo. However, after a few days’ observation, they all understood it to be a respectable human custom, and the offense was forgiven.

But as the city gasped, Vander grabbed Morgan’s arm and pulled it away from the alien. Putting his own arms at his side, he bent at the waist and bowed low. When he stood up, all he said was, “Greetings.”

“Greetings, fellow souls. You may call me the Chancellor, and my people are the Wobbletorvs. What people are you and what mother do you hail from?”

“We call ourselves humans, or people, or Earthlings, whatever you wish.” Morgan thrust his words into the conversation like you would an awkward sea lion. “But what do you mean by ‘mother’?”

“Earth,” enlightened Vander, his understanding as quick as ever.

“Ah, we know of Earth. She is far and small. We knew there were souls on her, but we had no knowledge of their space-faring capabilities until just recently, so we saw no gain in making contact with them.” He waited a moment for them to speak, but seeing that they were nearly speechless, he went on: “Come, let us walk, and I will teach you much about our fair mother: Mother Telemunda.”

As they walked around the center of the great Wobbletorv City (a name the humans instantly gave it, the ‘torvs didn’t have a name for it, as it was their only center of civilization), the Chancellor explained that their planet, Telemunda, is very rich in fresh water (which covers just over 50% of the surface), forests, oil, natural gas, minerals, ores, flora and fauna, everything required for paradise. The ‘torvs, while being very similar to the humans in anatomy, were very different philosophically. What we would call a “sentient life form” or “intelligent life,” they call a “soul,” meaning anything that has a soul is a soul in itself.

The Wobbletorvs themselves are hyper-intelligent, devoted to the study of every kind of science they find in the universe. They are capable of space-travel and have been making contact and forging alliances with every other space-travelling race they’ve found, which now includes the people of Earth.

From their studies of Earth, they have calculated that a Telemundan year is approximately 3 Earth years, gravity is roughly 8 times stronger (it’s a very dense planet), and the atmospheric content is about the same.

The Wobbletorvs have reached a state of perfect equilibrium with their planet, which they call their Mother, and which they worship dutifully. They mate for life, and each couple only produces two children, so as to maintain a constant population. Everyone takes only what they need, and everything they need comes from the planet’s “extras.” That is, the very old, the dead, the useless, the feeble, at least that which has already adequately reproduced. They are the keepers of Telemunda, and will accept any cost to protect her.

Their giant city only takes up one-quarter of the vast surface area; the rest is left untamed for their many wild animal species. Since there is no division in place for the ‘torvs, they have never had a war, except for those with invading races, in which the ‘torvs remain utterly undefeated. Since they are such a technological and knowledge-driven race, they have developed technology far faster and far more advanced than any other race in the known universe. Thus, any race that threatens Mother Telemunda will invariably be utterly decimated without hesitation. Period.

After several days straight of walking, talking, discussing, questioning, experimenting, testing, looking, and exploring, the humans and the ‘torvs had fairly good understandings of each other. Both races presented their scientists and xenobiologists, who all got to work immediately trying to understand the genetics and biological characteristics of each other. The only human that refused to undergo genetic tests was, interestingly enough, Commander Vander.

It wasn’t long before the artificial intelligence of the Wobbletorvian computers was able to communicate with the artificial intelligence of the ship’s computer. The humans had been planning to wait a little while longer to present their request to the ‘torvs, but their computer’s mainframe security was nothing compared to the technology of the ‘torvian computer.

Five days after arriving on Telemunda, the Chancellor was the one who brought it up: “Your ship’s computer has let it be known that you wish to present, reluctantly, a request.”

Commander Vander looked at Lieutenant Morgan. “Explain.”

A deep breath. “Ya see, here’s the deal,” began Lieutenant Morgan, “our home planet, Earth, is completely unable to sustain our population, and we need to give it a break, only for a couple hundred years or so, and we’ve traveled all these light-years to humbly request your permission to inhabit only a tiny portion of your vast planet to house our struggling population and thus rescue an intelligent race—uh, “souls”—from ultimate annihilation. Please, can you help us?”

“Of course! You are our galactic neighbors! How could we not answer your cry for help?” exclaimed the Chancellor. “We only occupy one-quarter of Mother Telemunda, this one great…city, as you call it…is the only place we live. On the opposite side is a vast landmass that could easily serve as your foster home. Enjoy Mother Telemunda for as long as you need! Only heed our wisdom and tread not on our threshold, and we shall forever enjoy peace.”

2930

It only took a few years for the word of a suitable foster-planet to reach Earth, and once it did, it took even less time for the government to prepare the fleets to transport the entirety of Earth’s population to Telemunda. Within the decade, Earth was completely deserted. And after another 93 years, the human side of Telemunda, or “Earth Prime” as they called it, was inhabited.

At first, the humans were careful not to overuse their foster planet’s resources. Couples had few children so as to lessen their impact, and everyone found it supremely important to use only what they needed. They understood that they were guests in someone else’s home. As generations passed, however, the people of Earth began to forget this truth.

Within four generations, couples began to reproduce exponentially. Within seven, they were living at the same standard as they had been on Earth. Within fifteen, they had completely overtaken their hemisphere, rapidly draining its resources.

The Wobbletorvs were utterly astounded. Never before had they even imagined a race capable of such unadulterated destruction.

The scientists among them had to understand it.

However, by the time the ‘torvs got around to setting up their observations, tests, and field experiments, the humans of Earth had nearly depleted their side. There was even beginning to arise poverty, slums, and ghettos around the central zone of Earth Prime.

By 2930 (in Telemundan years), the humans had crossed the equator and were even encroaching upon Wobbletorv City (as the humans still called it). The Wobbletorvs, of course, reminded the Earthlings of their promise to not cross the threshold, but the humans wanted nothing to do with ancient agreements that may or may not have existed.

As in any civilization of such colossal magnitude, a fair number of humans disapproved of what the majority was doing. Of these, Rex Vander the 224th was seen as the leader. And of course, leading the side of the majority, opposing Vander, was Devra Elaine Morgan, a direct descendent of Lieutenant Derriver Cecil Morgan.

Vander’s side wanted every human being to leave Telemunda forever. And that means everyone. By now, Earth was almost entirely restored (it had been nearly 3000 Earth-years since the humans had left), and with the technology and knowledge they had picked up on Telemunda, surely they could all fit comfortably on their rich planet, maybe not as comfortably as they had been on Telemunda, but comfortably nonetheless.

Morgan’s side saw this demotion of comfort as devolution. However, they did want some to return to Earth (with Miss Morgan as the new leader), while others stayed on Telemunda. Plus, they saw the warnings given by the Wobbletorvs as a threat to their rights as “true citizens.”

Thus, it was the humans who were first to declare war.

Not that it was much of one.

The first thing to happen was the attack on Wobbletorv City. The humans on Morgan’s side gathered whatever forces they could, and marched into the city. The ‘torvs saw them coming of course, and watched them marching through, Morgan at the lead, shouting orders and threats and empty promises.

The ‘torvs seemed interested at first, but soon went back to what they were doing, which only angered Morgan all the more. If she knew their secret weapon, she would have fled their planet years ago. What they had, in simple terms, was a set of giant “speaker cannons” that emitted a sound at the precise frequency to disassemble human bodies, very similarly to how some opera singers can reach the exact pitch to break glass, only much, much more complex.

They had designed it almost immediately after the human beings had shown up on Telemunda, just in case. It was up to the Chancellor when and if they were to use it, and so far, for the sake of his friendship with Rex Vander the 133rd, for the sake of compassion, as well as for the sake of science, he had not called for it. But now, the humans had simply gone too far. They were killing Mother Telemunda.

In an attempt to cause Devra Morgan anguish by forcing her to watch the annihilation of her entire race, the Chancellor called her into an inner room of the Capitol and trapped her in a soundproof cage, fit with monitor screens showing her entire army as well as many populated sites on the human side of Telemunda.

And then they fired it up.

Watching every last member of your species shriek in pain and then melt down into atomic particles would make any ordinary human being weep out of sheer terror and hopelessness. But Devra Elaine Morgan was no ordinary human being. She was genuinely upset solely because her chance of taking over luscious Telemunda was dissolving with every man, woman, and child of her kind.

Plus, it didn’t even completely work. Rex Vander the 224th was no ordinary human being either. When the ‘torvs brought him into the Capitol, Morgan couldn’t believe it.

“You’re alive?”

“Clearly.”

“How?”

“Later.”

When the Chancellor came in, he was surprisingly unsurprised by Vander’s existence. He simply walked up to the cage and looked both Vander and Morgan in the eyes.

“You Earthlings are truly a fascinating species,” he spoke in the sincerest of tones, with an expression to match. “No other force in the universe has the power to so completely devastate the resources of such a rich planet. This power must be better understood. Therefore we must create a grand experiment, one in which we place you two humans back on your home world and observe your interactions with your natural environment.”

“You can’t do this!” screamed Morgan, “You can’t just play God here! I’m not going to Earth! You can’t make me!”

“It matters not how hard you struggle, you are returning to your home world.”

“No! No! I’m a free human being and I can do other than what you say!” She was almost frantic.

Rex Vander wasn’t anywhere near frantic. He didn’t argue. He didn’t even mind, he was always meaning to go back to Earth anyway. He knew Morgan always wanted to as well, but he didn’t say anything.

“Brothers, please place them in the particle transporter and prepare for launch.”

“As thou command.”

They loaded Vander and Morgan into a large, egg-shaped metallic receptacle, inside of this was what looked like two disc golf discs (drivers) top to top, but the upside-down one was suspended about ten feet above the right-side-up one. Neither disc was fastened to anything, nor was there anything connecting them or holding them in place. They simply sat stationary, on nothing, in a giant metallic egg, a marvel before the eyes of the two Earthlings.

“They are made of what your people called anti-matter,” explained the Chancellor, knowing their thoughts. “We have found a way to harness its unthinkable power and transport objects of any size to any point in any universe. In this case, it will be transporting you two to a specific point on Earth.”

Shocked and awed, Vander and Morgan stood on the bottom disc, unable to move due to some unseen force. The last thing they saw on Telemunda was one of the Chancellor’s sad eyeballs staring at them through a small window in the large metallic egg.

When Rex Vander opened his eyes, he knew exactly where he was. It looked very different from what he “remembered,” but it was familiar nonetheless. Understand, he himself had never actually been here before, but this phenomenon is explained later. As he looked around, he noticed several things simultaneously: 1) He weighed one-seventh what he weighed on Telemunda, 2) they were by a stream in a thick forest and everything was very green, very lush, very much like Telemunda, and 3) Devra Morgan was still fast asleep in a little clearing a few meters away. As he watched the stream roll by, he tried to imagine how he was going to explain everything to her: who he was, what he was. She woke up before he had it figured out.

When she opened her eyes, she knew she’d been beat. There was no going back, no chance to lead a “happy life” now (and by that she means a life in which she is the most famous and powerful).

The first thing she did was attempt to make Vander to say more than one word at a time. It didn’t work. He just sat there. Contemplating.

Left alone on a medium-sized planet with a woman like Devra Morgan would normally make any soul lose itself within a matter of hours, but Rex Vander the 224th was a pro. Plus, Devra had lost most of her “kick.” Being stranded on a planet with your greatest rival after losing the greatest military force in your race’s great history would leave anyone somber, to say the least.

Finally, after two whole days of silence, Vander spoke: “I.”

“Yes…?”

“Have.”

“What do you have?”

“A.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Confession.”

“Well then, let’s here it!”

As you can imagine, trying to tell a story speaking only one word at a time can be very time consuming, thus, in my retelling of it, I’ll leave out Morgan’s necessary one-liner comments and get straight to what Vander is trying to say:

“I am not from your Earth, but from an earlier one. One in which there are no genders, everyone could reproduce asexually, like me. If another human didn’t add any of its DNA to you, your “child” would be an exact copy of you, a clone, with cloned memories and experiences. This is why I have not changed in thousands of years: I am an exact clone of all the Rex Vanders throughout history.

“My Earth was wiped away in order to create a new one. God has done this many times, each new Earth getting more and more complex than the previous one, each one with slight changes in the hopes that He will eventually make one that can sustain its perfection, knowing full well that He cannot. We human beings are too sinful; it is in our very nature to sin. Every ‘Adam and Eve’ has failed, as we inevitably will.”

“But, if we know what’s coming, can’t we avoid it and save ourselves from a Fall like theirs?”

“No.”

“That’s stupid. I’ll avoid it, I know what to watch for.”

“Sorry.”

“But wait, you’re from an ‘earlier Earth’? So, you’re not even a real human?”

“Actually, I’m just as human as you, although a few small details are different. That’s why I wasn’t dissolved on Telemunda, as well as why I speak like this.”

“How is this world different from yours?”

“As I said, it’s more complex. And this time God is trying something new, an experiment: He is manifesting Himself in the Chancellor. On my Earth, He walked among us. In this one, He will be as distant as Telemunda and yet as close as the Chancellor’s eye. Through the Chancellor, God wiped away the old Earth, placed the new ‘Adam and Eve’ back in the Garden, and will continually observe and watch over us, giving us everything we need.”

“Is the Chancellor aware of his role in all of this?”

“No.”

“He thinks he’s just running some kind of scientific experiment?”

“Yes.”

“Will he ever abandon us? Will he ever give up”

“No.”

Today

“And there they remain, observing us from afar, unbeknownst to even our greatest astronomers, trying to harness our incredible power, yet eternally doing the work of God.” The old man living in the woods behind my house never gets tired of telling his old story, even though it takes him forever to tell it one word at a time. “Both God and the Chancellor are watching us, and we are all members of their grand experiment.”