Leukós

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. We could go out into the black void and never be heard from again; this is true, yet there are things on this earth which scare me more, if I’m honest.

If sounds are lost in space then it’s fitting that silence is a distinctive attribute of the species which so courteously introduced themselves to the astronauts on a mission to Mars five months ago.

“What is it? My god, oh my god!” the astronaut cried in the soon viral video clip, recorded from a device on his spacesuit. Something large had appeared on the horizon and was steadily approaching. An astronaut, like anyone, imagines aliens; sometimes in hopeful dreams and sometimes in nightmares. The reality of it all was incredibly startling. First, the ship itself wasn’t metal or any known material, but appeared to be made of some kind of organic substance. It had a texture which looked something like bark and leaves, yet the surface agitated lightly, like water. Was it alive?

The ship pulsed with light, rhythmically. It took some time for one of the shocked and terrified astronauts to offer up the correct summation:

“I think it’s Morse Code!”

“Hello. Peace.”

These two words played in a continuous loop until the astronauts had decoded it, found a flashlight, and sent the same message back. At that point, the flashing stopped. The ship opened - like the parting of a waterfall or of hanging branches, closing quietly and revealing no seam - and three figures appeared.

“Like light … and shadow.”

“Kind of like a mirage. They don’t appear to be solid, yet you can’t see through them.”

“Not really a color, though sometimes hints of every color, like a prism.”

The descriptions of the alien visitors are varied. No one can land on anything exact, because they were unlike anything people had ever seen before. In the five months since the initial greeting, the species came to earth and met with the leaders of most countries. In that time, mankind has learned the following:

• The species call themselves Leukós, though it’s guessed they merely adapted the Greek word as their moniker on our behalf.
• It seems they are entirely deaf and mute. Leukós never respond to or communicate with sound. With humans, they use Morse Code, though with each other they sort of shimmer and ripple, as though a breeze is blowing over them.
• A kind of force field radiates out from Leukós seven feet in each direction so that no one can touch them.
• It’s clear Leukós has been observing us for some time, learning how to communicate with us and planning just when to visit. Meeting on Mars, where they could introduce themselves as peaceful without the presence of weapons, was quite strategic.
• Finally, Leukós says there is a planet in their solar system which can sustain human life: Néos. They have offered to take us there.

“You have observed the warning signs indicating that earth and all who inhabit it are in danger,” Leukós stated in a meeting with the UN. “We believe earth can be saved if people work hard enough. But, there will still be complications. There are so many of you populating this planet. If a portion of humans come with us, you can make a second home on Néos. It has what you need to support life.”

I was doing my rounds at the hospital, checking on a patient when I saw the news about the UN press conference.

“How are we -” I began as I entered the room, but my patient interrupted, her voice urgent.

“Have you seen this?”

She had given birth late last night. Her husband sat beside her on the hospital bed, the two of them pressed close together and staring intently at the TV. I turned and watched as well. The Leukós hovered on one side of the stage, flickering steadily. Their Morse Code message was being decoded and read aloud.

“If you agree,” someone read slowly offscreen, “We will send for two spaceships to come and bring you to Néos. They can transport sixteen thousand humans each. If the first trip goes well and colonization is a success, we can arrange for future excursions.”

The couple’s new baby began to cry, snapping the three of us back to that room. The father rose to pick her up, soothing her while I checked the mother’s vitals. Assuring her that she was doing great, I exited their room but caught more of the broadcast at the nurses station. Several others had their eyes fixed on the TV as the Leukós gave a final statement:

“The future of mankind could be on Néos. It is up to you to decide.”

The Leukós and Néos is all anyone talks about, and of course, the divisiveness in opinions is steep. The Leukós claim humans can survive on Néos, but is that true? Can we even survive the journey through space? What is their bottom line for wanting to help humanity? There must be a catch - what do they want in return?

There are those who loathe the Leukós, screaming in the streets and online for them to go back to where they came from, calling them spies and liars. Assasination attempts have been made, yet the Leukós’s force field protects them. They seem unperturbed by the violence. I suppose if they have been watching humanity, they expected it.

Some people distrust them in part for their absolute silence, their muteness. Yet, it's something I appreciate about them. In our world of constant noise, they are silent. I find them to be calming. Linguists have tried to understand their communication, but it’s unlike anything we know. It’s like a dance; gentle, full-bodied movement, with patterns of light playing across the surface. When asked for names, the Leukós have declined. We don't know if this is because they don’t have a translation, prefer not to share, or if it is something they don't even use. Much is mysterious, yet I sense a stoic peace about them. They appear unruffled by questions or confusion or threats. They say they want peace, and I am one who believes them. I know there is much to be wary of, so much about the Leukós which is unknown, but look around: the polar ice caps are melting. The weather is more extreme. Animals are dying. Every day, I see new babies born into this world. Some fight to stay alive, and I wonder if one day they’ll be fighting for survival in other ways as well. After work, I look up news of the Leukós, then of other current events, and think maybe, just maybe, they are our best hope for survival.

There are the tentative beginnings of a group of people signing up to go with them. Individuals plus whole families, sometimes multiple generations, willing to uproot and go colonize Néos. For those who truly believe, it’s exciting. They can’t wait. Personally, I’m somewhere in the middle. I’ve always thought of myself as a realist. What are the chances that the Leukós have some sinister hidden motive, or that humans will survive the trip through space, yet alone life on another planet? Probably not great. It may all be some elaborate Trojan horse, but as I said, there’s something which makes me want to trust them. If there’s any chance of seeing another planet and being a part of the continuation of humanity off earth, I’m in. Maybe I’lll end up being a scream lost in the vacuum of space, but it’s a once in a lifetime chance and I can’t say no just because of the unknown. I’ve put my name on the list. If it happens … I’m going.