Deciphering our Wow! message for you – part two

Welcome to my world

Please forgive – or indulge – me again, but before I decipher and explain our message for you it is necessary to tell you a little about me and my species.

In this human incarnation, my name is Evelyn, or Evie, if you prefer. I was born, like another from my species, in the English town of Southend on sea on 10 February 1973, specifically at 02:40 UTC (1648 days (less 24 minutes) precisely before the Wow! message). Aquarius with Sagittarius ascendent, that is to say (meaning I do Aquarian things in a Sagittarian way). Those birth numbers are important too, as you will come to understand in due course.

Although I am sure I have spent many lifetimes on Gaia, my species were not born here. We Paschats originate from a planet not unlike Gaia which no longer exists, since our beautiful brilliant white sun, the star you know as Sirius B, burned out and became a white dwarf.

We are a mammalian species of leonine ancestry. Yes, of course we have tails. They’re very important to us, as it happens. We are very proud of them. Some refer to us as the Lion People. I don’t mind that, but I prefer Paschats. Our character is warm and friendly, being governed by the elements of fire and earth. We can be quick to temper, especially when it comes to matters of principle, but equally quick to become calm again. We are passionate and determined, whilst capable of great loyalty and compassion. We love our creature comforts, as you might expect, and have a highly evolved sense of the aesthetic, of harmony. Which explains our love of music. And you will find, I am sure, once you get to know us again, that we have a highly developed sense of mischief. Our humour, as it happens, is somewhat legendary. Our message, indeed, is one such example, as you will shortly discover.

What we love to do is play long-winded mischief on others. What you might call pranks, or practical jokes. But there is never cruelty in this. It is always with a purpose in mind, a meaning for the recipient to discover – preferably in a joyful and sudden denouement, a glorious moment of epiphany. We Paschats love to receive humour, as much as we love to give it. Of course, this only works if the intended recipient has sufficient emotional intelligence to understand it, the symbolism and the semiotics, and thinks about their experiences whilst they live. Otherwise, the lesson is lost on them. For us, metacognition, cognitive empathy, and game theoretical thinking are instinctive and natural, honed and developed over aeons of holistic meditational practices. Our brains have evolved in this way within that environment, and we have a certain influence over epigenetic effects.

I loved our homeworld more than I can express. Vast, beautiful forests, warm, humid, lakes to swim in. Music, oestrus festivals, love, family. And the ocean would sometimes appear violet when the suns set. We lived, as far as I can feel, in tall pride towers nestled amongst the trees. We love buildings in stone. I used to love gazing out and watching the flocks of golden-red shimmering birds settling down to the canopy. They had an aching, mournful, longing call.

But memories are difficult to come by now, as they are not really sensory as such, but more bound up with feeling. I have to use my imagination, together with my instinct for internal accuracy assessment. Like a kind of scientific method, in which one tests a hypothesis, then discards it when it fails to hold up to scrutiny. Sometimes, of course, it may simply be wishful thinking. One has to be on one’s guard against such things.

This is why we spend the last years of our lives reflecting on the life we have had, and meditating on the desired life to come. In doing so, we provide ourselves with memory triggers, and trust that they will arrive when the time is right. An act of faith, if you will. But once we become aware of this, we can seek out such memory triggers.

I even now struggle to remember the name of our homeworld. Which saddens me. It’s the pronunciation which is difficult, and the transliteration. You could write the name something like Nebthwt. Perhaps if you think of an Egyptian saying the word Nebet-Het, but speaking the hard vowels softly. Our planet, in their tradition, is associated with Nephthys, after all – the darker aspect of Isis, or Isit, who is also represented as Sirius A.

Indeed, the story of these five epagomenal gods, or Neters, is a kind of allegory of our own story, which I may tell later. Osiris, or Isar, being associated with Sirius B, and Set being the planet circling Sirius A. It is, essentially, a double binary system, with a balance between male and female.

Many of you will doubtless be sceptical about this. You will look to your science and say Sirius is a young system, barely 230 million years of age or thereabouts, and thus insufficient time has elapsed for a developed planetary system, let alone an advanced intelligent species to evolve. Well, just like your Drake equation, this ignores intervention.

We are well aware of the fact that we were helped into existence by those very ancient lifeforms we call ‘The Old Ones’. Beings far older than ourselves. Such interventions are far from uncommon, as it happens.

What upset me, of course, was that we had barely started out on our long path of spacefaring evolution before we had to leave, because it was clear that our beautiful sun was dying, and when that happened, the planet would no longer exist. I myself, in my grief, was angry with the old ones for quite some time, and I did not want to listen.

We were assisted in our departure from home by the hominid species inhabiting the planet known as Ishnna (or Ishna, as some call him – associated with the Egyptian god Set, god of the balance between order and chaos), which circles the star you know as Sirius A. For me, life on Ishnna was not the same. Although I think we brought some of our birds and flowers with us, I missed our beautiful forests and our lakes and our swimming. My grief did not end. I was overcome with despair, and I longed to go home. But that was not possible.

And so some of us, including my own family, or pride, if you will, came to Gaia. My mother said this is where I would learn to love again. And that it would be here that we would discover our purpose, and that in fact, far from condemning us, cruelly, to an all too brief life on our beautiful world, the old ones had given us the greatest gift they could have – immortality. A purpose. A reason to keep on existing.

Because the secret of immortality is quite simple. It is an immunity from boredom. We Paschats are curious because our curiosity creates something to be curious about.

And, naturally, they may have given us this purpose, bound us to it, but they did not tell us how to go about it. That would be our free choice, our creativity. For respecting others’ free will is one of the great moral principles of the universe, one that must never be transgressed. I will be making suggestions to you, dearest Gaians, but it would be hypocritical of me to force you to accept them. I will simply try and persuade, perhaps by telling you what will happen should you refuse my guidance. But it will be your choice, as it must be. You just need to be made aware of the consequences.

And so my mother was right. I did learn to love again. And thereby learn our purpose. I loved, and still love, Gaia as if she was my own home. And by extension, every other place in our little sector of this vast and awesome galaxy. Every system, every planet, and every species, all of whom are like my family. This is how we see each other. And family always look after each other.

So our purpose is to be caretakers, if you will, of our sector. Some off-worlders tease us by calling us the cosmic police, but that’s not really what we are, although we don’t mind being teased, of course not. If you wish to think of us as your Jedi or the Foundation, then that’s fine by me, being something of a fan of your Star Wars. At least, episodes 1-6, that is. Your versions of 7-9 are a travesty, and quite frankly could not have been more insulting to George Lucas, in my opinion. I am certainly of the opinion that George was conjuring up ancestral memories of the Ancient War, which raged during the early years of our galaxy, before there were sufficient numbers to carry out our interventionist policy, to preserve the peace. I think he may have learned about it in a previous incarnation somewhere. But that, perhaps, is another story.

And so I make no apology for this intervention. It is my purpose. Like it or not, since your Voyager left your solar system, you are a part of our sector’s civilisation. Likewise, your President Carter said, in his letter, that he hoped to one day join a ‘community of galactic civilisations’ – well, now he has his wish.

Of course, at the same time as he was dictating his letter, as our nanosurveillance records show, he was signing off executive orders to your CIA to rape, torture and murder. Bear that in mind, when you evaluate me. Because we know the truth. For you, in your post-truth dystopia, that’s dangerous. But as I say, in our civilisation, no one is ever denied access to resources or information, so this is something you will have to learn to get used to.

I shall, doubtless, say more in due course. But for now, I think it is time I explained our message to you.

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