"Space - A Fishy Tale" by John Taloni

Editor's Introduction: This week Sirius Science Fiction presents a very plausible story set in a near Earth obit, that kicks off with a joke that becomes the basis of a revelation. It's called...

Space: A Fishy Tale

By John Taloni

 Base camp spun slowly in the inky black of space.  Located in geosynchronous orbit some 25,000 miles above Brazil, Base was the last destination of the Space Elevator – and the starting point for trips to all other parts of the Solar System.  A kilometer wide, the station was crammed full of warehouses, hotel rooms, and research facilities.  Space was at a premium.  But travelers of all kinds wanted a place to congregate.  And so there was a bar as well.

Peter sipped his drink and looked around the bar.  About half were regulars.  There were no social boundaries, and hotel staff mingled freely with research scientists, miners, and pleasure travelers.  

Peter had made a lot of money as one of the early prospectors, taking several long trips to the Asteroid belt to prospect for rare minerals or just building materials to be boosted back to near Earth.  Even with the Space Elevator, it was generally cheaper to obtain raw materials from outside the gravity well of Earth.

“Rodrigo! ‘Nother round for my friends here,” Peter waved to the bartender, vaguely indicating his table and a few around him.  “One for the new guy, too,” he said, indicating a man sitting alone, eating a sandwich from the bar’s limited menu.  Peter waved a welcome and the man came over.  The regulars grew silent.  Peter was working up to a whopper of a pun, but the free drinks generally made it worth listening.

“So, did you ever wonder why you can’t get a good plate of fish in space?” Peter asked, pointing at the sandwich.

“No.  I can not say that I have, Mr……?”  the newcomer trailed off.  “I’m Peter,” he replied.  “And you?”  “Call me Dmitri,” said the newcomer.  His English was excellent, but there was a trace of an accent indicating that it was not his first language.  His features were exotic, and Peter took him to be a mestizo mix from Brazil. 

“Oh, not that they haven’t tried,” Peter continued.  “In fact, I knew a guy who got involved in a fish farming venture.  John was his name.  He and his partner Tim had just gotten back from a prospecting mission.  Damn shame too – their ship got damaged and they were pretty much broke.”  The regulars knew this was preposterous on the face of it, since geologists willing to take the long tour to the Asteroid belt were highly compensated. 

“One day John and Tim were passing by a restaurant, kind of like this one.  There was a celebration going on and they went inside.  Seems a group of fish farmers had had some early success with Cod.  It’s hard to get them to thrive in space, since the Coriolis effects from rotating for gravity throw off their senses.  They don’t tend to like to feed.”  This, at least, was plausible, although none of the regulars had any idea if it was true.

Peter went on.  “John thought it smelled delicious, so he pulled Tim in and asked if they could join them.  They had a lot of food, so they said OK.  John thought it was marvelous!  It was a batch of young Cod, but being New Englanders, they called it by the local name – Schrod.  Meanwhile, Tim didn’t like it at all and left early to go work on the ship.”

“Turns out having a fish fry was one way to test the quality of the fish, so they did it pretty regularly.  John joined up with their group and started helping out.  He had a lot of experience fixing spacecraft, so he was pretty helpful to them.  Tim did most of the repair work on their ship while John was off with the fish group, and he was getting kind of annoyed.  Time came for them to go out again, and John decided to stay.  He signed over his interest in the ship to Tim and took a job with the fishery.  They had Schrod at least once a week.  Delicious!  John loved it.”

“Well, the mission didn’t go well for Tim, and he came back to Base camp.  Didn’t want to go back to Earth either, so he took odd jobs.  Meanwhile, the fish experiments weren’t going all that well either.  You could get the fish to grow, but they required so much tending that it would never be profitable to raise them.  Still, there were a few rich people who really wanted fresh fish in space.  The Japanese in particular wanted sushi.”

“So, a bunch of the fish farmers gave up and went back to Earth, but John wanted to keep the venture going.  He signed up with the high end farmers, who set him up with his own station.  On his way out, he passed his former partner.  His new associates turned their nose up at him.  He’d become broken down, a shadow of his former self.”

“But, John said he couldn’t judge him harshly.  After all….”  Peter trailed off. 

“What?” asked one of the regulars.  It was part of the ritual.

“John said he didn’t want to judge,” Peter continued.  “As he said, ‘there but for the taste of Schrod go I.’”

There was a stunned silence in the bar.  One of the regulars gulped down his drink, waved a goodbye, and ran out of the room.

Peter ordered another round.  Dmitri spoke up.  “Ah yes, the tall tale, set in space.  I have been wondering when Paul Bunyan or his like would show up.”  Dmitri overpronounced several of the words.  “It is an interesting way of dealing with the unknown.”

“There’s a lot of unknowns,” said Peter.  “Tell me, do you ever wonder what’s out there?”

“No, not particularly,” replied Dmitri. 

“Really?” said Peter.  “Black holes, galaxies with huge jets of gas shooting out of their centers, our own Oort cloud – nothing?  The possibility of alien civilizations?”

“Ah, aliens,” said Dmitri.  “Really, what would they want with humanity?  One would have to assume that any civilization advanced enough to come here would not be especially interested in humanity’s foibles.  They would be well beyond such struggles.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” replied Peter.  “Technological advancement doesn’t necessarily imply cultural sophistication.  They might be a lot like us.” 

“Mmm, I doubt it,” said Dmitri.  “Still, a few might come.”

“What are you thinking?” asked Peter.  “Hey Rodrigo, hit me again and one for my friend,” he said, indicating Dmitri.  “What are you drinking?”

“Ah, I’m traveling soon,” said Dmitri.  “Just water.”  Around them, most of the patrons were leaving. 

Rodrigo brought over the drinks.  As he came out from behind the bar, Peter watched him pass in front of the viewing area.  An entire section of the wall was clear, showing a view of space.  Earth took up the main portion of the viewing area.  Earth seemed to spin slowly around the Strand that made up the Elevator, as Base rotated around the docking section.  Essentially decoupled from the Strand, people exited the Space Elevator by moving on to a rotating section as it went past.

The bar was on the outer hull, where rotation simulated Earth’s gravity.  There was also a window in the floor, but Peter didn’t like to look at it.  Watching the Universe spin around every few minutes gave him an upset stomach.

“As I was saying,” Dmitri continued, “a few aliens might take an interest in Earth.  Chroniclers of various kinds.  Anthropologists.  The main body of any advanced civilization would likely be uninterested in Earth.  But there might be a few who cared enough to visit.  They may have government agencies, or societies, that take an interest.  Think of how Greenpeace looks to whales.  Or how a British anthropologist seemed to the African natives.”

“Well, why not just reveal themselves?” asked Peter. 

“Ah, but if they did, then what?” asked Dmitri.  “You must assume that this civilization you speak of would have at least several races of beings.  They would presumably have some experience in first contact.  And they may have good reasons to avoid such a thing.  Imagine what might happen if a group of spaceships suddenly appeared above various national capitals?  There would be widespread panic.  Some groups would take it as a religious sign.  There would be many deaths.  Perhaps some wars.  And for what?  There would be no change in how humanity acts.  Just proof of extraterrestrial life.  And even that proof would be denied by some people, with their minds unable to handle the concept.”

“So…..what, then?” asked Peter.  “Hide themselves forever?”

“No, I don’t see that happening either,” said Dmitri.

“Still, now does not seem a good time, does it?  Films treat aliens alternately as violent invaders or unthinking killing machines.  The best show them as coldly calculating evolutionists.  If you were an alien, would you consider that a friendly environment to reveal yourself?”

“No, I suppose not,” said Peter.

The side wall showed night falling on Earth.  Some 25,000 miles below, darkness was moving from the ocean on to South America, touching the Brazilian city that marked the other end of the Strand.  As the day/night terminator passed, Earth’s shadow hit the Base.  The bar became dark.  Behind them, Rodrigo began cleaning.  Patrons were starting to leave.  After a few minutes, Rodrigo came over and sat down.

Dmitri went on.  “Consider what happened with the New World.  When the Europeans arrived, the locals were completely unprepared.  Yet if the Aztec and Mayan civilizations had been more advanced, they might have met as equals.  It seems that Vikings made it as far as what is today Mexico City.  Hence the legends of a blond-haired, blue-eyed Quetzlcoatl in what seems much like a Viking Longship.”  The statement was controversial, but there was some proof behind what Dmitri was saying.  “Had the Vikings been able to teach the Mayans, they might have brought up their technological level.  Had Columbus also been delayed a hundred years, the history of the New World might be very different.”

“Mmm,” said Peter.  “So, what you’re saying is that the aliens would come as observers?  Teachers?”

“It would be more complicated than that,” chimed in Rodrigo.  “Humanity is pretty violent.  We haven’t gotten over our evolutionary past.   No one would blame us for being violent a few thousand years ago, when it was necessary to survive.  But we’re still doing it.  Not exactly confidence building for an advanced civilization.  They might have made scientific discoveries that are used peacefully, but could be used for destruction on a massive scale.  Imagine a fusion engine that can accelerate at several gravities.  Now imagine it used as a weapon, pointed at a city.  Or an inertialess mass driver, in the hands of terrorists.  They could drop asteroids on Earth.  It’s not like it’s past us - we’ve exploded fission weapons on our own surface”

“So they might be here already?” asked Peter.  “Looking like us, hiding among us, pursuing their agenda?”

“More of an uplift,” said Dmitri.  “They would have to be compassionate, or they would simply leave Earth alone and hope humanity killed itself off.  You certainly came close enough during the Cold War.  For all we know, they may have intervened then.”

Peter laughed quietly.  He had a sudden vision of Stalin ordering an attack on the US, only to find that the missiles would not leave the silos, or of Eisenhower ordering a nuclear strike on North Korea, yet the fission reaction was somehow dampened.  Such an event would have left the intelligence agencies of many countries perplexed.

Dmitri went on.  “Depending on who you believe, they may have been visiting intermittently for thousands of years.  And seeing the reaction to their presence, they may have been scared off.  Imagine being worshipped by people you wished to greet as equals.”

“Still,” said Rodrigo, “I can’t believe that they’d stay completely underground.  I imagine that they’d reveal themselves to selected people – sympathetic people who could help them.  And slowly spread the word.  Gain gradual acceptance of the idea of civilization of worlds, before eventually revealing themselves.  It could take generations.  Perhaps it has.”

“Yes, you may be right,” said Dmitri.  He looked at his watch.  “Well, I must be going, I have a seat on the Space Elevator leaving shortly.  And anyway, it seems to be closing time here.” He stood up.  “I wouldn’t want to miss my departure.  It is my first trip Down, and I have a world to explore.”

“S’long” said Peter.  He was more than a little tipsy.

Peter was halfway recovered from his hangover the next morning before he realized what Dmitri had said.

END

About the author:

John Taloni has been reading SFF since the age of eight when he stumbled across a copy of Alexei Panshin's "Rite of Passage." His major influences include Anne McCaffrey and Larry Niven, with a healthy side of Spider Robinson. He is a long-time attendee at SF conventions, and met his wife while dressed as a Pernese dragon rider. Their daughter asked at the age of four if they could watch more of the show with "the robots that say 'exterminate,'" and the entire family has happily watched Doctor Who together ever since. Taloni is an associate member of the Science Fiction Writers of America (SFWA.) His recent works can be found at Compelling Science Fiction, Zooscape Zine, Itty Bitty Writing Space, and the Corporate Cthulhu anthology.