The Noisy Planet

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say, but that does not mean that space is silent as all planets emit sounds, all which can be heard via certain radio frequencies. But there is one planet whose sounds can be heard not only via radio waves but also by the naked ear as well.

So, what does Earth sound like from space? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGYv3sCuxVQ&t=143s

The definition of “Outer Space” depends on your point of view. Everything outside one's own planet’s atmosphere is “outer space”.

The inhabitants of my home planet are a quiet people. This is because we have evolved to the point where our hearing is as acute and as finely tuned as that of cats. We can discern the faintest of sounds and need only whisper to communicate should we even need to, as our usual communication is telepathic. By the same token, our vocal cords have atrophied from under-use, so we are not capable of screaming should we ever want to.

* * * * * *

Many people mistakenly believe that Edvard’s Munch’s painting, “The Scream”(1893) portrays a man screaming but that is not so. The subject is merely reacting to the cacophony of noise in his environment; hence his hands cover his ears and his mouth forms an "O" to convey his distress. I, better than anyone else knows that, for I am the subject of the painting.

This is the story relating how my image became the iconic portrayal of universal distress.

I was on a routine circuit to check the status and placement of our orbiting satellites, the least favoured of all assignments as the speed and course of our crafts were pre-programmed and monitored by the AI, resulting in long hours spent droning around in silent and murky darkness while taking occasional deep breaths of pure oxygen to remain alert.

Our satellites are constantly monitored by Central Control of course, but every month someone was sent out to make visual inspections, especially of those not transmitting a clear signal.

I had been assigned this rather tedious task as punishment for taking out one of my company’s crafts for a spin without official permission and for no reason other than to escape into freedom to surf the vastness of space. I imagined my craft’s engines screaming in delight as I accelerated to unleash their full unfettered power, knowing full well that the sounds of the engines would not betray me on my nocturnal joy ride as they would be unheard in this vast vacuum.

Several of us have succeeded in these nocturnal runs without being detected in the past, but this time I was busted when one of my late-working superiors saw me land.

Temporarily suspended for this infraction from my scouting assignments of searching out and mapping new wormholes as they developed in our galaxy, I was demoted to survey duties.

Several generations ago, we had perfected the technology needed to hold a decent-sized wormhole open without collapsing in on itself. Without a large quantity of negative energy, they tend to collapse in the middle making it impossible to transit one.

We, however, were only to map their locations and under no circumstance were we ever to enter one. That was to be left to members of the Specialist Corps, whose natural physiology, combined with months of rigorous training, were able to withstand the interior forces inside these tunnels even though there had been instances of a few “space cowboys” joyride through them. Unfortunately some had never found their way back, resulting in both human and material losses.

Central Control (CC): We’ve lost signal from XO-7GA. Survey and report condition & location.

Me: Roger that. It seems to be just beyond the Interface (the outer limits of our “safe” area beyond which we must not stray).

CC: Approach as close as you can to get a visual.

Me: Sorry sir. Can’t get any closer without crossing the limit line. Can’t CC get a beam on it to reposition?

CC: It’s too far out of range for our signal.

Me: Copy. Will try to approach closer. Permission to disengage AI, sir.

CC: Granted.

Well, that came as a surprise, as disengaging the AI which, among other procedures, records and determines velocity, direction and range of our surveys, is hardly ever granted during these circuit checks. I would now be flying relying only on my own visual capabilities with no AI assistance.

Momentarily distracted in disengaging it so I could maneuver my craft closer to the rogue satellite, I found myself flying straight into the glowing mouth of a wormhole whose location had not been entered into my nav system. Had I not just disengaged, the AI would have sounded a warning while simultaneously steering the craft away from it.

Unable to escape its opening, I was drawn in and buffeted from side to side despite my craft’s sensors activating extra restraints to encase my body. Pulled around curves and then shot forward and jerked backward, G-forces alternately forced my body into the back of the seat or pulled me from one side to the other, as my craft hurtled through this dark tunnel.

I knew from our Specialists’ excursions, some wormholes lead to distant sides of our galaxy while others take you for a long ride with multiple twists and turns only to exit close to their original entrance. I had little time to wonder where this one would lead but hoped for the latter.

My chronometer spun wildly: at times, speeding ahead and then alternately, doubling back, even past the time I had entered. Was I in some sort of time-shift bubble, centred in the continuum between two different space-time locations? There was no way to find out as time acts strangely inside these passages, and I know my chronometer will be off when I emerge.

Nearing the wormhole's pinhole exit, that grew larger as we approached it, my craft was catapulted out like a stone from a slingshot, sending it somersaulting into the exterior void.

Flattening out, I spotted a satellite somewhat like our own. Could one of ours have strayed this far from its orbit? But no... this one had strange markings…so not ours. Whose was it then and where had it been launched? Was there a planet nearby whose technology matched our own?

My surveillance unit had often been warned about approaching what we call “space junk”, but I was curious to read the markings at a closer range.

Slowing down to cautiously make a visual inspection, my craft was once again spinning wildly out of control, gripped by a strong force and pulled into a downward vortex, to what appeared to be a bank of thick clouds. Passing though them, I realized quickly that I’d lost control, as I couldn’t pull up.

Specialists had reported that violent physical vibrations inside wormholes are hazardous to electronic circuits, which must have been the reason for my thrusters to malfunction. I couldn’t accelerate, so I was locked in by the gravitational pull of whatever planet lay near me. Gathering speed as my craft plunged, I had no fear of burning up, as our crafts have been specially engineered of a titanium alloy, able to withstand high temperatures caused by friction.

Clearing the clouds, what I saw before me was astounding! Approaching me very quickly as my craft dropped in free-fall, appeared to be an array of structures of some sort. Could it be that I was staring at the mythical planet we’ve named “Erd”, whose sun our scientists have glimpsed, and speculated about its possibility to sustain life?

Judging by the ordered and symmetrical array of structures, this planet’s inhabitants may be of a fairly high intellectual caliber and likely the ones who had launched the satellite I spotted.

Before I had time to speculate further, sensors on the emergency circuit activated my craft’s parachute, slowing its descent to land with a thump in a cluster of treetops where it sat precariously tilted to one side. I reached over to engage the shields, which thankfully still functioned, to camouflage my craft and found that I had just enough reserve power to send a brief message and coordinates of the worm hole entrance and that of my present location to Central Control.

My chronometer had not settled down and continued to vacillate wildly between time spans of over 120 years, confirming my earlier suspicion of having been deposited within two 2 simultaneous time periods.

Checking my wristband’s atmospheric gauge for temperature and nitrogen-oxygen ratios on this planet and finding them suitable enough to sustain me, I uncoupled my restraints and climbed out of my disabled craft.

Peering around curiously, I found myself in a serene greenery area where the air was cooled by a fresh breeze. Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I spotted a bridge nearby where a small group of inhabitants stood overlooking the water below.

The Artist: As I stand on the bridge watching the sun sink slowly into the horizon in its last fiery explosion of colour, turning the sky and water, blood red, dark purple and pink, all the hues of this evening's dramatic cosmic event, I’m suddenly blinded by a bright metallic flash hurtling from the heavens, accompanied by a loud roar that nearly bowls me over. It was over in a second, but I see nothing around me to account for it. It must have been a trick of light glancing from the water’s surface--either that, or I am going mad and hallucinating. I must return tomorrow with my easel to capture the drama and energy of this strange moment for it has affected me greatly…

Surprised at how closely this area resembled my own planet and needing to clear my head from the jostling I took traversing the wormhole, I decided to investigate further while waiting for instructions from CC. Making my way, keeping well hidden in the shrubbery, I headed to the edge of this treed area away from the bridge and its inhabitants.

Breaching the outer edge, I was immediately assaulted by an almost palpable shock wave of sounds that nearly knocked me over as I was still disoriented from being tossed around in the worm hole. I came face to face with hordes of inhabitants and the source of the uproar.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rvc63Ez6DM&list=RDLVcDWZkXjDYsc&index=19

Strange looking inhabitants of all sizes and shapes, some with sparkly dangles attached to their large ears and others with plugs that fit over and inside their ears, paraded before me. Were they wearing locator instruments, receivers or maybe even noise filters?

As they marched along, looking neither left or right, seemingly unaware of each other or of the chaos surrounding them, their ebb and flow was controlled by lights on poles that alternated from red to orange to green in a confusing display of color. Errants who disregarded the control lights, were halted by a uniformed inhabitant who held up his hand and blew a shrill sound from his mouth piece. Could this be a parade of bots on their way to work assignments?

The skins and faces of these inhabitants varied in color and shape, so different from my people’s softer, androgynous ones. There were discernible differences in their hair and dress styles too—they had hair! My people have no body hair, and our skin colour and texture is very smooth and light. Some had bodies wrapped in one-piece coverings of varying lengths from the neck down. Others had each leg wrapped individually up to their middle with another garment from their waist to neck. Such bizarre and complicated body coverings!

Primitive four-wheeled land vehicles seemed to be in a holding pattern, moving slowly at first in a stop-and-go rhythm, and then proceeding with much honking and roaring of engines, while two-wheeled vehicles, emitting deep growls or high-pitched whines, wove in and out through their lines. Other vehicles flashed red and blue lights while emitting ear-piercing shrill sirens. They continued in rows, occasionally coming to a full stop controllled by the same light arrays as the inhabitants on foot.

Overhead, a large sky craft rumbled through the air further exacerbating the general confusion and tumult.

None of it made sense to me and I was totally disoriented by my entrance onto this planet and the pandemonium surrounding me.

Unable to withstand much more of this frenzy, I scanned the area searching for shelter and it was then that I spotted several inhabitants who had dropped to the ground, most likely overcome by noise and confusion. Others sat injecting themselves in gaps between structures, perhaps with a serum to mitigate the effect of the confusion around them, seemingly to no avail though, as they too slumped against buildings while the masses simply stepped around them.

Desperately needing to escape the noise and confusion of this place, I spotted an open portal through which I made my escape and found myself in a dark, quiet room with rows of seats. I collapsed into one of them thinking this must be a respite place for those seeking solace from the outside.

Overcome by exhaustion, and needing to subdue my quivering body, I allowed my eyes to close as the lights dimmed even more, deepening the darkness around me. Just as I began to drift off, there was a sudden bright flash of colour and fast-moving images on the large screen before me as a simultaneous eruption of sound assaulted me from all sides.

Dazed by this sensory overload, I stumbled out of my seat and found my way back to the street, now assaulted not only by the noise and confusion confronting me, but also by brightness that momentarily blinded me. My need to find sanctuary, a safe, quiet haven to escape the turmoil grew even more intense as I feared collapsing in a heap like those I saw earlier.

Hoping to communicate with the inhabitants on the street while leaning against a building to support my weakened body, I tried in vain to catch the attention of a passerby telepathically…but not one even glanced in my direction.

Approaching others in the midst of the crowd, and using my wristband Translator, I whispered my plea about seeking a quiet sanctuary, but my voice was drowned out by the clamor around me, and I was roughly pushed side.

“Another druggie and this one in a costume yet…” is all they answered while another in the crowd yelled out at me,

“Hey, Comic Con isn’t until next month! Cool getup dude!”

Covering my ears with my hands to quell this hideous pandemonium and with all hope of finding help on the street extinguished, I stumbled back to quiet of the greenery area to seek the safety of my craft.

The Artist: I’ve returned to the exact spot where last evening’s phenomenon occurred to capture the essence of that dramatic event on my easel. As I glance up, I see a rather odd looking figure staggering in from the street. He must be in great distress by the expression on his face. It’s as if he’s heard the very same roar as I had. I must capture his expression and paint his likeness into the foregroundof my work.

As I neared the bridge, the man, who was dabbing color onto his board, beckoned me over and showed me the likeness he’d created of my shocked expression.

I nodded at him and stumbled back to my craft, slowly clambering up into the treetops to enter it where I found a disheartening message from Central Control:

You have transgressed rules again: this time by entering the wormhole which you knew to be forbidden. There can be no excuses—you should have been more vigilant. But as you have now landed on what we suspect to be the planet Erd, we have an assignment for you. You are to stay there and entice or capture an inhabitant to bring back with you. Only after securing one, will we send a transport rescue craft for you.

What! Are they insane? Surely they're aware of how dangerous it is on an alien planet even without knowing the trauma my body has been subjected to and the toll it's taking! This is going beyond all rules and protocals of alien planet exploration!

I have not been trained, nor do I have the necessary materials supplied to those of the Extra-planetory Exploration Pioneers. I have nothing to ensure my safety and survival! How can I possibly hope to fulfill CC's demands as no one will even let me approach?

The irony of my need to scream and wanting that scream to be heard didn't escape me. My thoughts in turmoil, I glanced through the treetops from my elevated vantage point and spotted another inhabitant approaching the man who had created my likeness. As they appeared to be engaged in an animated conversation, I activated my Translator to listen in:

Man: Hey, we’re about to shoot a movie at this location...ya know---about aliens—the kind of thing that people are keen to pay to watch. I happened to see someone in costume out on the street who was heading this way. Did you see where he went? We sure could use someone who looks so authentically alien.

The Artist: Well, there was one like that and I thought he was so unusual that I painted his portrait. Here it is.

Man: Yeah, that looks like the one I saw.

Artist: But I don’t think he’d be of much use to you as he appeared to be a deaf-mute as he didn’t speak and indicated his deafness by covering his ears.

Man: No worries, it’s not for a speaking part—just for background reality. Here’s my card. Give it to him or contact me if you should see him again.

Moments later, a group of uniformed inhabitants, carrying what appeared to be weapons, rushed in and began to question the man with the paints.

Did you see anything unusual in the sky last night or this morning? Anything appear to fall out of the sky recently? We’ve had reports of a shiny object making landfall nearby…

I stopped listening at this point for surely, they were referring to my craft and it now became even more urgent that I be rescued soon as the cloaking screen camouflaging my craft would deactivate in few days unless I'd found another power source.

But how could I possibly have captured an inhabitant in my weakened state when everyone I approached either ignored or pushed me aside? There was only one who had made a friendly gesture toward me…I wonder….

The Artist: Having completed my painting and preparing to pack up my supplies, I spot the stranger who had appeared so distraught earlier. I think he means to approach me…

Speaking into a device on his wrist band that makes his peculiar language comprehensible to me, he relates a most remarkable tale…

* * * * *

Am I truly mad as others have remarked within my hearing? I may well be, as I consider embarking on this incredible journey to another planet. What would I be leaving behind after all—only illness, misery and the constant grief that undermines my mental state, compelling me to scream in frustration.

What images and scenery I could paint on a distant planet! And how my friends would gasp in awe at their uniqueness!

But wait…have I really been approached by an alien asking me to accompany him to his planet…or was this but another of my drunken hallucinations with voices that only I can hear?

Nevertheless, whatever just transpired, be it real or fantasy and whatever else happens forthwith, I will gift this painting to the alien-looking being so if he, in fact was real, he can take it with him. I will create copies and inscribe a message on one to thumb my nose at my fellow contemporaries and critics...

“Could only have been painted by a madman”

Then let them mock me and question my mental stability….

No one can hear a scream in the vacuum of space...but perhaps they will soon see the portrayal of one alien's reaction to the screaming noise of humankind.