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a full author. Escape

0:52

Pod. Episode 986.

0:54

Lyra. From Many

0:56

Angles. By Hyran

0:58

Ennis. Hello,

1:24

and welcome to Escape Pod. I'm your

1:26

host and co -editor, Mer Lafferty. Our

1:29

story this week is Lyra.

1:31

From Many Angles. By Hyran

1:33

Ennis. Hyran is the

1:35

British Fantasy Award winning author of

1:37

Leech. Their short stories have appeared

1:39

recently in Weird Horror magazine and

1:42

the Canadian anthology of dark fiction,

1:44

Northern Nights. Their upcoming novel, The

1:46

Works of Vermin, a vicious hybrid

1:48

of Baroque theater and man -eating centipede,

1:50

is preparing for its final molt

1:52

and will fall into the world

1:54

in fall 2025. It's

1:57

narrated for us by Tatiana Gregg. Taptiana

2:00

is a critically acclaimed actress of

2:02

stage, screen, and the audio booth.

2:04

He has been nominated for dozens

2:07

of fancy awards, but hasn't won

2:09

a single damn fair. He was

2:11

in Brooklyn, New York. He'll be

2:13

more about her at Taptiana Gray,

2:15

it's G-R-E-Y, dot com. This is

2:17

an escapot original. He'll be comfortable

2:19

enough to sit through years of

2:21

space travel. It's story time. Lira,

2:30

from many angles, by

2:33

Hiran Ennis, narrated by

2:35

Tatiana Gray. When they

2:37

came, it was in

2:39

a craft the size

2:41

of a golf ball,

2:43

smooth and round, and

2:46

perfectly seamless. It cut

2:48

open the night sky

2:50

in a pale streak.

2:52

For a scant second,

2:54

it struck a fiery

2:57

blemish across the moon's

2:59

face, catching the attention

3:01

of 44 children, 12

3:03

adults, and a bewildered

3:05

flock of geese, before

3:08

boring a meter-wide crater

3:10

into a dry lakebed

3:12

in northern Mexico. The

3:14

explosive technicians were the

3:16

first to the scene.

3:18

Then came counter-bioterrorism, lumbering

3:21

in prophylactic spacesuits. prophetic

3:23

of their evolution into

3:25

the global office of

3:27

extraterrestrial affairs. Soon after

3:29

came the Ahensia Espatial

3:32

Mejicana, the Northern Hemisphere

3:34

Space Association, what remained

3:36

of the UN, then

3:38

a dozen other acronyms,

3:40

most of which would

3:42

dissolve before the year

3:45

was out. The confused

3:47

tangle of letters amassed

3:49

around the crater, investigated,

3:51

agreed, backstabbed, and then

3:53

finally... excavated the little

3:56

craft, only to bury

3:58

it in a bunkering.

4:00

Corpus Christi. There it stayed

4:02

the worst kept secret on

4:04

earth for nearly 50 years.

4:07

Like all grand leaps in

4:09

human history, first

4:11

contact was actually a

4:13

tedious series of small

4:16

blind steps, each in

4:18

a different direction and

4:20

each of unknown significance.

4:23

After nearly a decade

4:25

of excruciating international

4:28

deliberation, of buffering

4:30

their facilities against

4:32

xenotoxic substances, gathering

4:35

neutralizing agents, and

4:37

stealing the planet for the worst,

4:39

the conglomerate of acronyms

4:42

finally opened the craft. A

4:44

hundred translucent sheets of

4:46

alloys were peeled away,

4:48

paper-thin and remarkably

4:50

tough. With the heart of

4:53

the spaceship unwrapped, a

4:55

semi-viscus fluid was pipetted

4:58

and plated. Darkfield

5:00

microscopy revealed a

5:03

dense, motile population

5:05

of helical microorganisms.

5:08

It's syphilis, the surgeon

5:10

general said upon receiving

5:12

the report. It's god damn

5:15

space syphilis. Modern textbooks

5:17

omit her commentary. but

5:19

they describe in great

5:21

detail the reactions from

5:24

other figure heads when

5:26

rumors of a hostile

5:28

extraterrestrial bacteria inevitably spread.

5:30

Accusatory fingers were

5:32

pointed across continents, calls

5:34

to arms and quarantines

5:36

abounded. Some countries preemptively capitulated

5:38

to Earth's new tiny

5:41

overlords, but others were bent

5:43

on destroying the invaders before

5:45

the pestilent takeover. Shortly

5:48

after one pro-earthling faction forgot to

5:50

carry the zero and accidentally set

5:52

off enough jewels to sink a

5:54

quarter of Long Island into the

5:56

sea, it was discovered that the

5:58

syphilis from space was not

6:01

nearly as virulent as its

6:03

reputation. The creatures were nothing

6:05

like their terrestrial counterparts. Their

6:07

cell walls were devoid of

6:10

recognizable glycoproteins or markers. They

6:12

defied taxonomy. Germicides passed over

6:14

them like water. Heat failed

6:16

to lice them. A thousand

6:18

animal experiments revealed no pathogenesis.

6:21

Bacteria introduced to the spirokeits.

6:23

were found disassembled and arranged

6:25

in oddly complex structures at

6:27

the periphery of their nutrient

6:30

baths. The biochemists surrendered. They

6:32

stored 500 millileters of the

6:34

specimen at negative 80 degrees

6:36

Celsius and let the rest

6:39

grow in a comfortable Lysogeny

6:41

broth, waiting for something apocalyptic

6:43

to happen. Nowadays... Every public

6:45

figure carries a sample of

6:47

the spiral keys somewhere on

6:50

their person. Dignitaries keep a

6:52

dish nearby when visiting a

6:54

new hemisphere. Doctors and biostiticians

6:56

stash envelopes of powdered aliens

6:59

in their pockets when they

7:01

navigate epidemics. Vials of it

7:03

can be found around the

7:05

necks of policymakers and at-risk

7:07

neonates. The Global Office of

7:10

Extraterrestrial Affairs gives Lyra a

7:12

little bag of the stuff.

7:14

The same kind she vividly

7:16

remembers using to carry a

7:19

goldfish home from the fair.

7:21

She cradles the organism as

7:23

she had the fish, grip

7:25

tightened with both joy and

7:27

terror. That little bag will

7:30

be the only thing that

7:32

will accompany her when she

7:34

leaves the planet. Her instructions

7:36

are clear. As soon as

7:39

her ship glides past the

7:41

moon's orbit, she is to

7:43

find the glowing vat along

7:45

the starboard curve. Open the

7:48

bag and dump it inside.

7:50

The microorganisms will take care

7:52

of the rest. She is

7:54

to use the on-board interface

7:56

to issue requests and adjust

7:59

atmospheric conditions and to assist

8:01

in navigation. If she feels

8:03

ill or distraught, if the

8:05

too distant light from too

8:08

many suns depresses or frightens

8:10

her, she is to take

8:12

50 millil liters of broth

8:14

and swallow it. If she

8:16

runs out of air or

8:19

fuel, if she ends up

8:21

lost or starving, she is

8:23

to take 50 millilators of

8:25

broth and swallow it. If

8:28

she suspects she has encountered

8:30

or would encounter xenotoxins living

8:32

or otherwise, she is to

8:34

take 50 millil liters of

8:36

broth and swallow it. You

8:39

think I'll be exposed to

8:41

anything? Lyra asks the officer.

8:43

Is it really that dangerous?

8:45

He shrugs. She takes the

8:48

bag in shaking hands. Two

8:50

months later, in the dead

8:52

silence of space, Lyra must

8:54

admit. It is kind of

8:57

nice to have someone to

8:59

talk to. It had been

9:01

an experiment, born of anxiety,

9:03

boredom, and a cocktail of

9:05

hallucinogens pilfered from the pharmacology

9:08

lab. The offending graduate student

9:10

could not justify his unsanctioned

9:12

study. He could not explain

9:14

why he'd defrosted the organisms,

9:17

what he'd commandeered and out-of-commission

9:19

microscope, and for weeks documented

9:21

the extensive density gradients of

9:23

the fluid in which the

9:25

microbes grew. Only years later

9:28

would he compose an enormously

9:30

popular sonnet, illustrating his reasoning

9:32

in impeccable detail. Like everyone

9:34

in his position, he had

9:37

been tasked only with finding

9:39

a way to kill the

9:41

things. Though the microorganisms proved

9:43

inert, the junior researchers acted

9:46

as the just-incase men, preparing

9:48

for the day the invincible

9:50

aliens turned on them. His

9:52

superiors had already documented the

9:54

arrangements of the spiral heats

9:57

in response to stimuli, the

9:59

way their components dissoci- and

10:01

reassembled according to blind chemical

10:03

pathways. The student was the

10:06

first one to recognize it

10:08

as an attempt to communicate.

10:10

Only by shirking his duty

10:12

to massacre the microbes did

10:14

he discover they were asking

10:17

him rather meekly to stop.

10:19

He reported his findings to

10:21

his supervisor and there was

10:23

nowhere for the information to

10:26

go but up. The details

10:28

of his discovery, save the

10:30

students habitual intoxication, were propelled

10:32

all the way to the

10:34

Surgeon General. Eight months and

10:37

three hundred sixty-eight biologists, chemists,

10:39

physicists, linguists, programmers, poets, and

10:41

sculptors later. An alphabet was

10:43

derived. It consisted of nearly

10:46

three thousand discrete arrangements of

10:48

cytogenic gradients, each a unique

10:50

concentration of secretions evolving a

10:52

time span. A thousand different

10:55

fluorescent stains allowed the gradients

10:57

to be tracked by cameras

10:59

positioned on each Cartesian axis.

11:01

A sophisticated program translated the

11:03

clouds of glycoproteins into probability

11:06

functions, then into letters. A

11:08

tangle of tubes and filters

11:10

diffused a tentative greeting into

11:12

the tank. The little aliens

11:15

responded. Lyra's father said when

11:17

he kissed her goodbye, whatever

11:19

you do, just don't mention

11:21

syphilis or lime. I hear

11:23

they'll crash your ship. He'd

11:26

laughed. Lyra had not. You

11:28

trained your entire life for

11:30

this, he assured her. Now

11:32

go do it. There's nothing

11:35

else you've ever wanted. I

11:37

guess so. Don't fret, Lyra.

11:39

You've understood their language since

11:41

you were in the womb.

11:43

Is that why the global

11:46

office made me spend so

11:48

many years learning it? Re-learning

11:50

it. If you didn't know

11:52

it before, you'd have been

11:55

born with your head where

11:57

your ass is. He played

11:59

with her hands for a

12:01

moment, gently running his fingers

12:04

over her symmetrical scars. Trust

12:06

yourself. You know it already.

12:08

You know them already. Lyra

12:10

supposes her father is right.

12:12

She has not spoken with

12:15

the organisms for 27 years,

12:17

and a fearful part of

12:19

her is certain that she

12:21

will not remember how. But

12:24

a more rational part reminds

12:26

her. That's what the inship

12:28

computer is for. She

12:30

glances to the tank. The

12:33

plastic bag is a thin

12:35

bulla at its bottom. The

12:37

spiral kits have long since

12:39

diffused. The broth is motionless,

12:42

except for the occasional bubble

12:44

burping to the surface. Now

12:46

is as good a time

12:48

as any to start a

12:51

conversation. Lyra traverses the ship.

12:53

It is a small bean-shaped

12:55

thing. with a shell so

12:57

transparent, a valley of stars

13:00

spreads like dandelions under her

13:02

bare feet. She pads to

13:04

the terminal and pulls out

13:06

the keyboard and clicks out

13:08

a single word. The apparatus

13:11

vibrates, interpreting the pixelated letters,

13:13

devising its possible meanings. Not

13:15

many in this case. Then

13:17

constructing a four-dimensional model of

13:20

the appropriate gradients. A thousand

13:22

tiny tubes spit out a

13:24

mix of signaling proteins in

13:26

a precise order and at

13:29

a precise density. The moats

13:31

of meaning, some visible and

13:33

some not, spread through the

13:35

tank over several minutes. Hello.

13:37

Lyra watches the tank with

13:40

rapt attention, knowing that even

13:42

if something happens, it is

13:44

unlikely that she will be

13:46

able to see it. Until

13:49

the computer flashes a translation,

13:51

she cannot know that the

13:53

microorganisms are rearranging, exocytosing, painting

13:55

a meaningful picture of lipids

13:58

and proteins. For 20 minutes,

14:00

she waits. Afraid they've decided

14:02

to ignore her. Then, a

14:04

reply crawls across the monitor.

14:07

I remember you. Giddy.

14:09

Lyra resumes typing.

14:11

I'm Lyra. We've met

14:13

before. I'm your companion

14:16

for... She hesitates. Furr

14:18

the duration of this voyage.

14:20

Two minutes pass. I know.

14:23

I'm here to help with

14:25

anything you need. I can

14:27

make repairs and navigate for

14:29

you. I can offer conversation

14:31

and change the nutrient settings

14:33

on the tank. Anything you need.

14:35

I have been trained to provide.

14:37

I know. Thank you. The answer is

14:40

swift and too final. She sees

14:42

no further movement, no clouds of

14:44

color. She suppresses disappointment.

14:47

Of course, the organism does not

14:49

waste words. When every thought

14:52

demands such a vast rearrangement

14:54

of cells draining a significant

14:56

amount of energy, verbosity

14:58

is prohibitively expensive.

15:00

Think of it like this, the office's

15:03

director of linguistics had said to

15:05

a room full of starry-eyed trainees.

15:07

Every time you speak, you must

15:10

rearrange your skeleton, transfer a good

15:12

portion of your last meal to

15:14

the fondest of your stomach, then

15:17

pinch off that part, isolate it

15:19

from the rest of your GI

15:21

Trax, and cough what hard through

15:24

your esulfagus. So, don't blame yourselves

15:26

if they don't talk much while

15:28

you're out there. Yet, Lyra

15:30

is torturously curious. When given

15:33

a stick, she will always prod.

15:35

Where are we going? Where are we

15:37

going? She asks. A word flashes

15:39

across the screen a quarter

15:41

of an hour later. Lyra.

15:43

Yes, I'm here. An odd mix

15:45

of aromatics is

15:47

hastily processed through the

15:50

machinery. A whitish cloud

15:52

billows through the broth

15:54

of fragrant bright pulsation.

15:57

Some scholars dare to

15:59

analogize. to laughter. The computer

16:01

interprets it with great difficulty.

16:03

Lyra understands immediately. No, we

16:06

are going too, Lyra. She

16:08

racks her brains for a

16:10

celestial landmark, a nova, or

16:12

messier object, something that justifies

16:14

the destination and relieves the

16:17

tension of the coincidence. Nothing

16:19

arrives. What do you mean

16:21

by Lyra? She types. It's

16:23

not a... place. It's a

16:25

two-dimensional shape superimposed on a

16:28

three-dimensional arrangement of points. She

16:30

supposes the constellation might have

16:32

a heart somewhere in the

16:34

vast emptiness, a center of

16:37

mass to this long-armed irregular

16:39

object. She spins through trigonometry

16:41

in her head while she

16:43

waits for the spiral keys

16:45

to reply. They do not.

16:48

Please let me know if

16:50

there is anything you need.

16:52

She types. The tank stills.

16:54

Lyra hugs herself, looking past

16:56

her feet into the light

16:59

fields of space. What she

17:01

really wants to ask is

17:03

if it had been planned,

17:05

if the microbes had chosen

17:07

her specifically to accompany them

17:10

to that uneventful corner of

17:12

the cosmos at this uneventful

17:14

point in time, that they'd

17:16

known the Laura her parents

17:18

intended had been miswritten on

17:21

her birth certificate just wrong

17:23

enough to be meaningful nearly

17:25

three decades later. She decides

17:27

to attribute it to a

17:29

grand fateful design. There are

17:32

already too many hollow coincidences

17:34

in the world. The physicians,

17:36

those insatiable experts hungry for

17:38

yet more expertise, were the

17:40

first to bang at the

17:43

doors to get at the

17:45

spiral heats. Once it was

17:47

established or leaked that the

17:49

microorganisms could not be weaponized,

17:51

the jackboat stepped away and

17:54

in came the white coats.

17:56

They had been gifted with

17:58

a miracle. A microbe

18:00

with unprecedented control of its

18:03

own environment, indestructible and benevolent,

18:05

able to communicate both with

18:07

people and the infections that

18:10

ailed them. After thousands of

18:12

years waging unwinnable war with

18:14

disease, humanity had found a

18:17

negotiator. A long conversation between

18:19

the aliens and the medical

18:21

community began. Seven years later,

18:24

Malaria had been eradicated. Then

18:26

went measles, the retroviruses, syphilis,

18:28

perhaps this one just out

18:30

of spite, tuberculosis, papulosis, the

18:33

visitors could talk down any

18:35

virus, bacteria, fungus, protist, or

18:37

parasite. But they could never

18:40

be persuaded to virulence themselves.

18:42

And no one quite knew

18:44

why. They insisted. It was

18:47

because their task was not

18:49

to turn humanity against itself.

18:51

They were as uninterested in

18:54

conquering Earth as they were

18:56

in saving it. The only

18:58

thing they seemed to desire

19:00

in exchange for eradicating pathogens,

19:03

preons, malignancies, and every other

19:05

microscopic human ailment was to

19:07

return for brief periods to

19:10

space. Is there anything I

19:12

can do for you? Every

19:14

sleep wake cycle, Lyra asks

19:17

this question. And every time

19:19

she receives the same answer

19:21

exactly 12 minutes later. Nothing

19:24

for now, thank you. Lyra

19:26

switches off the monitor. This

19:28

is what she has trained

19:30

for, she reminds herself. This

19:33

is what she is supposed

19:35

to be doing. She has

19:37

spent years learning to interpret

19:40

gradients in polar and spherical

19:42

coordinates, to maintain a ship

19:44

and its complex computer interface,

19:47

to navigate the void. She

19:49

wishes she'd spent more time

19:51

learning to navigate boredom. She

19:54

sleeps, eats, and sleeps again.

19:56

She asks the spiral keys

19:58

what they require. Nothing

20:01

for now, thank you. Lyra

20:03

watches the tank for hours,

20:05

studying it as an artist

20:07

might study the facial expressions

20:09

of her subject. She desperately

20:11

searches for any meaning in

20:14

the movement, any thoughts spelled

20:16

in the macroscopic currents of

20:18

dies. She imagines the changing

20:20

acidity of every cubic centimeter,

20:22

the constellations of my cells,

20:25

the gradients of lumines too

20:27

subtle for her eye. Just

20:29

for fun, she built herself

20:31

a little program and calculates

20:33

a back of the envelope

20:36

translation of what floats at

20:38

the surface of the broth.

20:40

It is the third line

20:42

of a Shakespearean sonnet. Please,

20:44

she types, tell me what

20:47

you're thinking, tell me your

20:49

plans. She deletes it before

20:51

the computer can interpret. She

20:53

hydrates a meal, takes a

20:55

nap, and then returns to

20:58

the keyboard. Where did you

21:00

come from? Lyra knows they

21:02

will not answer. The question

21:04

has been posited and ignored

21:06

for many decades. Earth's little

21:09

visitors are guests with no

21:11

home and no destination, whose

21:13

permanency is the subject of

21:15

heated international debate. The computer's

21:17

fluorescent dies drift through the

21:20

tank. No reply. Bordam drives

21:22

Lyra to try again. Why

21:24

did you come to Earth?

21:26

How long were you traveling

21:28

through space? How'd you build

21:31

your ship?" The questions diffuse

21:33

and disappear. She sits alone,

21:35

thinking of sonnets and wondering

21:37

if the vastness before her

21:39

can even be called a

21:42

sky. How is the epidemic

21:44

in Laos going? To her

21:46

surprise, an answer comes seven

21:48

hours later. The Ursinia has

21:50

agreed to halt its march

21:53

north. It has not yet

21:55

capitulated, but it is amenable.

21:57

That's great news. Lyra

22:00

wonders if the spiral-kits in

22:02

her tank have a threat

22:04

of communication to the Petri

22:06

dishes on Earth. At the

22:08

very least, there must be

22:10

some sort of chatter between

22:12

Lyra's ship and the many

22:15

identical vessels currently tumbling through

22:17

the void. If there is,

22:19

it is private. The stars

22:21

sweep by, shaking like buds

22:23

in rough winds. Nobody tells

22:25

us much about you, Lyra

22:27

types. I've studied your language

22:29

and your metabolism for 13

22:31

years, but I know next

22:33

to nothing about you. The

22:35

emphasis, corresponding to a bright

22:38

red glycoprotein diffusing in the

22:40

upper left corner of the

22:42

tank, catches the organism's attention.

22:44

It is for my safety.

22:46

Lyra smiles. She can almost

22:48

see the wide frown of

22:50

the office's chief linguist, chiding

22:52

her for what he referred

22:54

to as unnecessary colloquy. That's

22:57

what they told me, Lyra

23:00

says. We can't let harm

23:02

come to you, but we

23:04

also know you're practically indestructible.

23:06

An hour passes before a

23:09

reply. It is for your

23:11

safety, too. No one's going

23:13

to weaponize you, she says.

23:16

Suddenly she feels the vast

23:18

distance, stretching between the ship

23:20

and Earth, between herself and

23:22

the consequences of her actions.

23:25

It's all to maintain the

23:28

illusion of expertise, isn't it?

23:30

Her question takes eight hours

23:32

to translate and feed into

23:34

the tank. The response comes

23:36

much faster. I asked them

23:38

to keep quiet. Why? Lyra

23:41

does not fully understand the

23:43

words that appear on the

23:45

screen. She rearranges the meanings,

23:47

checks the inputs, and calculates

23:49

the components of the alphabet

23:51

by hand, arriving at a

23:54

conclusion that bewilders her Because

23:56

I am shy. Tell

24:00

me more about yourself." Lyra

24:03

says. Nothing happens. Space crawls

24:05

by. I'm 27 years old.

24:07

I'm a Gemini, Leo rising.

24:09

I'm five-foot nine, and I've

24:12

got identical scars on each

24:14

hand. But you probably already

24:16

know that. She watches seven

24:18

movies on her personal screen,

24:21

all in a row. My

24:24

middle name is Lawrence. Laura Lawrence

24:26

is my parents wanted to call

24:28

me. I don't think Lyra Lawrence

24:31

is much better. She writes a

24:33

digital message to her father and

24:35

sends it into the void, knowing

24:38

it is unlikely to reach its

24:40

destination. I'm from Hempstead. My father

24:42

raised me alone. I have a

24:45

literally unpayable tab still going in

24:47

a bar in Queens. Something about

24:49

their computer not working. Halfway

24:52

through her next meal, the

24:54

computer beeps. Hempstead. Yeah, they

24:57

call it Venice now that

24:59

the first Venice is a

25:01

coral reef? She sighs. I

25:03

wonder if it'll still be

25:06

there when I get back.

25:08

Silence? For 76 hours. Then

25:10

the organism speaks again. What

25:13

are our coordinates? Lyra's ship.

25:15

Gently curved and about the

25:17

size of a train car

25:19

is only one of thousands.

25:22

They are modeled roughly after

25:24

the golf ball in which

25:26

the spiral kits had arrived.

25:29

Their interfaces are optimized for

25:31

human control, but they cannot

25:33

move without a VAT of

25:35

a million or so copilots.

25:38

Only a fraction of the

25:40

biophysics is known, and only

25:42

two a fraction of specialized

25:45

engineers. The first few launches

25:47

drew the attention of every

25:49

corner of the world. Reports

25:51

of accidents, abductions, time dilations,

25:54

and intergalactic slavery flooded Earth's

25:56

evolving narrative. Astronauts were said

25:58

to go insane aboard their

26:01

ships or... The Hill of

26:03

Enlightenment, they came home to

26:05

greet children 20 years their

26:07

senior. They resettled in cities

26:10

long abandoned. They discovered a

26:12

century of accumulating interest had

26:14

made them rich. Attacks were

26:17

carried out on launch pads.

26:19

Economists wrung hands about the

26:21

cost of overhead. It took

26:24

200 years for the novelty

26:26

of spacefaring to die down.

26:28

But the program carried steadily

26:30

on. Voyages became dependable, a

26:33

series of non-event, silent and

26:35

ubiquitous as bats flitting across

26:37

the night. Ships were built,

26:40

disassembled, and repurposed. Thousands of

26:42

eager nerds were recruited and

26:44

trained to accompany the microorganisms

26:46

back to space. Upon each

26:49

return, there was nothing to

26:51

report. No life was discovered.

26:53

No planetary colonies formed. Nothing

26:56

about the aliens themselves had

26:58

changed. though their human co-pilots

27:00

often returned content, bewildered or

27:02

joyful. Of course, they were

27:05

prohibited from speaking about their

27:07

journeys. The microbes did not

27:09

or could not recognize the

27:12

Cicephian nature of the program.

27:14

The number and length of

27:16

missions did not matter to

27:18

them. They did not die,

27:21

they were not born, they

27:23

reproduced themselves in exact copies,

27:25

invincible and carrying all the

27:28

memory and language of every

27:30

individual cell that had come

27:32

before. Despite its secrecy, its

27:34

apparent pointlessness and its exorbitant

27:37

price, Earth could find little

27:39

reason to fight the program,

27:41

with hunger eradicated and disease

27:44

following quickly behind, with the

27:46

atmosphere stabilized and seas purified

27:48

and seas purified and seas

27:51

purified and seas purified and

27:53

restored, was willing and eager

27:55

to give the microbes anything

27:57

they wanted. Ships, nutrient broth,

28:00

human companions... Earth had entered

28:02

its unfading summer. Our planet

28:04

has been completely and unequivocally

28:07

conquered, declared an infamous peace

28:09

in the times, and we

28:11

could ask for nothing better.

28:13

Why Lyra, though, she asks,

28:16

in either the fifth or

28:18

fiftieth month, an hour and

28:20

a reluctant reply. Are you

28:23

asking why I chose you?

28:25

No, I'm asking why you

28:27

chose the constellation. Because it

28:29

has not been documented yet.

28:32

What do you mean? Every

28:34

time I introduce myself, people

28:36

ask if I'm named after

28:39

it. We've got detailed descriptions

28:41

of its stars, their classes,

28:43

how far they are from

28:45

us and each other. We've

28:48

got the whole thing mapped

28:50

out. The ship slows. A

28:52

huge pale star drifts by.

28:55

Lyra fears some vital meaning

28:57

has been lost between the

28:59

cloud of gradients and the

29:01

words on the screen. But

29:04

only from one angle. Lyra.

29:06

The computer beeps. She opens

29:08

her eyes. She does not

29:11

know if they are calling

29:13

her name or announcing their

29:15

arrival. Perhaps both. She wriggles

29:18

from bed and glances to

29:20

her feet. Millions of stars

29:22

spread before her. Deathless. They

29:24

are well past the recognizable

29:27

planosphere now. Not quite off

29:29

the edge of the map,

29:31

but deep into it, boring

29:34

straight through the empty space

29:36

between Alpha and Zeta, Lyra.

29:38

The shape of the constellation

29:40

itself has dissolved completely. Give

29:43

us our coordinates. Lyra checks

29:45

the computer. A dozen numbers

29:47

march across the screen, and

29:50

she turns them over to

29:52

the tubes for translation. We

29:55

are close. This is the

29:57

last. fingers hover over the

29:59

keyboard torn between typing the

30:01

last what and there's no

30:04

such thing as close in

30:06

space instead she asks what

30:08

do you mean the organism

30:10

stills the ship hurdles onward

30:13

is there anything I can

30:15

do nothing for now thank

30:17

you library wonders how old

30:19

her father is now if

30:21

her sisters are married She

30:24

wonders if Queen's is still

30:26

above water. She realizes the

30:28

only thing that scares her

30:30

more than to fly home

30:33

and find everything unrecognizably different

30:35

would be to return and

30:37

find everything exactly the same.

30:39

Coordinates, please? She knows the

30:42

Spirokeets can ask the computer

30:44

to relay information automatically. She

30:46

wonders if they're trying to

30:48

keep her busy, the way

30:50

one might throw a bone

30:53

to a persistent dog. Is

30:56

this really all you

30:58

want from me? she

31:00

asks. Coordinates? They do

31:02

not answer for quite

31:04

some time, but they

31:06

do answer, which Lyra

31:08

does not expect. You

31:10

are my cartographer. She

31:12

stares at the screen.

31:14

That's not exactly what

31:16

they trained me for.

31:18

Streaks of stars, flattened

31:20

to rounded pinpoints. It

31:22

is. I was trained

31:24

to maintain a ship and

31:26

to speak with you, not

31:29

to chart the galaxy. You

31:31

were trained to speak with

31:33

me. There is nothing else

31:35

I need you to do

31:37

at the moment. Lyra's heart

31:40

sinks. I had hoped, she

31:42

types without thinking, that we

31:44

would meet something, discover something,

31:46

observe exoplanets. You want coordinates?

31:48

That's it! Please relay our

31:51

current position. The

31:54

ship eases to what might

31:56

pass for a halt in

31:59

the endlessly swirling dust of

32:01

space. We have arrived. She

32:03

slips over to the computer.

32:05

What do you need me

32:07

to do? She knows, she

32:10

asks in vain. She does

32:12

not expect the words that

32:14

appear nearly 200 hours later,

32:16

flickering in blue and utterly

32:18

bizarre. This is your task.

32:20

Look out the window. Take

32:23

in the site, document everything

32:25

you see, use every camera

32:27

and sensor on this ship,

32:29

use as many media as

32:31

you can, use your eyes,

32:34

describe every star their positions

32:36

relative to us, and every

32:38

space between them, input descriptions

32:40

of all miscellaneous you see.

32:42

Are you kidding me? She

32:45

cries aloud. She thinks better

32:47

of typing it. The Spirokeets

32:49

will refuse to respond, especially

32:51

after such an exhausting monologue.

32:53

Lyra obeys. For a month's

32:56

worth of sleep cycles, she

32:58

describes in as many words

33:00

as she possibly can the

33:02

arrangement of stars around her.

33:04

She does not know the

33:06

significance of any of them,

33:09

but she talks them up

33:11

as if she does. She

33:13

tells the spiral heats the

33:15

shifting colors of floating dust,

33:17

the tempos of the pulsers,

33:20

the smeared positions of distant

33:22

galaxies. She takes photographs, she

33:24

draws pictures of the sky

33:26

faithfully recreating every bluish dot

33:28

on her screen with the

33:31

end of a stylus. She

33:33

uncovers the exact composition of

33:35

each star according to spectroscopy

33:37

and maps it in me.

33:39

She writes a dozen poems.

33:42

She lets the doppler function

33:44

assess what is moving away

33:46

from her and at what

33:48

speeds, feeding every crumb of

33:50

information to the silent spiral-keats.

33:52

It is excruciating. When she

33:55

closes her eyes, she sees

33:57

nothing but white specks on

33:59

a black canvas. She charts

34:01

a coastline of nebula. She

34:03

sings to the computer in

34:06

her dress. dreams. Finally, the

34:08

organisms are satisfied. Good. Thank

34:10

you. Lyra breathes an hour-long

34:12

sigh of relief. Now rotate

34:14

the ship two degrees and

34:17

do it again. It gets

34:19

easier. Each repetition, she's a

34:21

little faster. She can recognize

34:23

stars from previous angles and

34:25

extrapolate their properties onto her

34:28

new maps. She writes programs

34:30

to overlay familiar placements and

34:32

build pictures on her behalf.

34:34

Her poetry improves, and she

34:36

moves from free form to

34:38

verse. She solves Fermi problems,

34:41

composes a simple rondo, arranges

34:43

the frozen peas on her

34:45

plate to make new constellations.

34:47

She begins to build a

34:49

comprehensible map. of the proximal

34:52

universe. But why? she asks

34:54

the microbes. They do not

34:56

answer. They are busy sorting

34:58

through the monstrous quantity of

35:00

data she has sent their

35:03

way. The computer whirs constantly,

35:05

and there is rarely a

35:07

moment when the tank isn't

35:09

churning with dyes and lipids.

35:11

Gradients so thick, Lyra can

35:14

see them with her naked

35:16

eye. She wonders if

35:18

this is what the Spirokets

35:20

have been doing for the

35:23

past few hundred years. Sending

35:25

out ships and ships and

35:27

ships, each a little probe

35:29

in the vast cosmos, an

35:31

attempt to map their way

35:34

back to a home planet

35:36

or some monstrous mother's ship.

35:38

What strikes her as odd

35:40

is that they'd need her

35:42

assistance doing it. The Spirokets

35:45

should need no help. They

35:47

should need nothing. They have

35:49

already amassed every skill that

35:51

should matter to sentient life.

35:53

They are interstellar travelers, intelligent,

35:56

eloquent, benevolent, undying, and utterly

35:58

inscrutable. So what are you

36:00

actually looking for?" She asks.

36:02

When she wakes up, she

36:04

sees they have replied. You

36:06

know, Lyra, you can see

36:09

it. You speak the language.

36:11

Lyra does not speak the

36:13

language. She can calculate meaning

36:15

from assembled gradients using a

36:17

variety of measurements, but only

36:20

after hours of processing and

36:22

many tiers of interpretation. The

36:24

Spirokite's speech, unlike gestures or

36:26

music or metaphor, is wholly

36:28

separate from mammalian instinct. It

36:31

cannot come naturally to a

36:33

developed human brain. She knows

36:35

there was a time when

36:37

she was fully proficient before

36:39

personhood arrived and replaced that

36:42

language with many others. Like

36:44

every other human being, she

36:46

had only ever truly understood

36:48

that dialect in utero. The

36:52

first time she met the

36:54

spiral-keats, she herself had been

36:56

almost microscopic, barely the size

36:59

of a P. She was

37:01

growing, according to every modern

37:03

measurement available, fatally abnormally. Analysis

37:05

revealed clusters of disordered homebox

37:08

genes, transcription factors gone awry,

37:10

garbled messages disrupting the hills

37:12

and valleys of proteins, reversing

37:14

their meanings, punctuating sentences mid-thought

37:16

and spitting-on paragraphs. If her

37:19

cell's grammar remained uncorrected, she

37:21

was destined to grow limbs

37:23

where none should be, to

37:25

have pores remain open when

37:28

they should zip safely shut.

37:30

In a matter of months,

37:32

her cells would die of

37:34

miscommunication, nothing more than a

37:36

series of mute and uncomprehending

37:39

proteins. Her parents applied for

37:41

an injection of spirochetes into

37:43

the amniotic sac. It was

37:45

swiftly granted, and after months

37:47

of reprogramming, editing, rereading, encouraging

37:50

replication, and aptosis in the

37:52

correct order, Lyra's only detectable

37:54

abnormality was a nerveless, boneless,

37:56

sixth finger. jutting from each

37:59

medial palm. They were easily

38:01

removed after birth and left

38:03

two small identical scars. They

38:05

are the only proof she

38:07

has that she once understood

38:10

the microbes. The only proof

38:12

that parts of her, many

38:14

many parts of her, still

38:16

speak it in her blood

38:18

and bones and gut. She

38:21

hopes they are proof enough.

38:23

She types. She glances back

38:25

to the stars, floating moats

38:27

clustered in sheets of varying

38:30

density, spiraling toward and away

38:32

from one another according to

38:34

gravity. On Earth, Lyra was

38:36

a harp, she says, for

38:38

some cultures. For others, it

38:41

was a weaving girl or

38:43

a vulture. It's not a

38:45

big constellation, but everyone found

38:47

something different in it. That

38:50

had even been when the

38:52

sky was a quilt draped

38:54

over the world. stitched in

38:56

only two dimensions. Now, who

38:58

knows what Lyra could be?

39:01

Another two degrees. She shifts

39:03

the ship and reads the

39:05

stars. She tries to coalesce

39:07

the gradients into a message

39:09

using the algorithm she knows

39:12

the computer uses when it

39:14

encounters glycoproteins with the same

39:16

orientations. Can you really understand

39:18

it? Lyra asks the Spirokeets.

39:21

How do you know the

39:23

cosmos speaks the same language

39:25

as you? The answer to

39:27

Lyra's query takes three sleep-wake

39:29

cycles. Because what little we

39:32

understood of it led us

39:34

to you. Why us? We

39:36

cannot see the stars. We

39:38

cannot hear them. Your senses

39:40

are absurd and unique. Almost

39:43

useless anywhere in the universe

39:45

except for your own planet.

39:47

But here, you can help

39:49

us interpret us interpret us

39:52

interpret with your fingers, your

39:54

eyes. your sounds, your objects.

39:56

I can speak with more

39:58

than that, she says. Just

40:00

remind me how to use

40:03

that language again, the oldest

40:05

one. I know it, just

40:07

not consciously. Help me relearn.

40:09

She hands over another piece

40:12

of the map, a detailed

40:14

portrait of what the ship

40:16

sees with its sensors and

40:18

what she sees with hers.

40:20

Tell me what it's saying,"

40:23

she says. Please, I don't

40:25

get it. I'm trying my

40:27

best. I'm working through it,

40:29

but I just can't quite

40:31

grasp it. Another two degrees,

40:34

please. She parses through her

40:36

data. Thousands of photographs, dopplers,

40:38

and paintings. She is so

40:40

immersed in her calculation. It

40:43

has become nearly instinctive, but

40:45

not quite. She almost has

40:47

it. She thinks she can

40:49

make out the message, but

40:51

from each angle it is

40:54

different. The stars miss a

40:56

line, separating context from content,

40:58

just as a shift in

41:00

tone, might change the meaning

41:02

of a word or render

41:05

it sarcastic. Lyra can be

41:07

a harp, or a weaving

41:09

girl, or a vulture, or

41:11

a combination of thousands of

41:14

in-betweens. She is many things.

41:16

She can develop into many

41:18

things, but she is not

41:20

there yet. Sometime

41:22

after her mid-cycle meal,

41:25

she opens the tank,

41:27

removes 50 millilters of

41:29

broth, and swallows it.

41:32

Years later, the final

41:34

star, agonizingly slowly, falls

41:36

into place. I hope

41:39

I have helped you

41:41

understand, says the spiral-keat,

41:43

either from the computer

41:46

or directly from Lyra's

41:48

auditory cortex auditory cortex.

41:51

You have the final angle

41:53

the last dense streak of

41:56

stars appears before her and

41:58

she does not wait for

42:00

the computer's interpretation. She thinks

42:02

she can do it herself.

42:05

But when she finishes her

42:07

calculations, when the meaning of

42:09

the picture snaps into place,

42:11

she does not understand it.

42:14

What's happening? she asks. Do

42:16

I have this right? Images

42:18

appear in her mind, of

42:20

her mother, of herself, of

42:23

her extra fingers regressing. Her

42:25

heart twists. I'm not sure

42:27

what I'm seeing, but I'm...

42:29

Pretty sure I'm seeing it.

42:32

She presses herself against the

42:34

transparent skin of the ship.

42:36

She imagines the curves of

42:39

space-time, streaking past, urging matter

42:41

along a trajectory, gradients of

42:43

stars pouring into galaxies, forming

42:45

and breaking apart. She cannot

42:48

speak for the regions of

42:50

space she has not seen,

42:52

but the message in this

42:54

quadrant appears to be clear.

42:57

Familiar. She remembers

42:59

how the cells of

43:01

her notochord told the

43:03

rest of her spine

43:05

to develop, where to

43:07

wander. She remembers what

43:09

they said. She blinks.

43:11

Something is growing, speaking

43:13

to itself, shaping itself.

43:15

Are you reading what

43:17

I'm reading? She asks

43:19

the spiroquets. The tank

43:21

stills for a moment.

43:23

I cannot say. There

43:26

is no satisfactory interpretation.

43:28

Lyra turns back to

43:30

the stars. I can

43:32

map the gradients. I

43:34

can understand the temporal

43:36

evolution. But I do

43:38

not know what it

43:40

means. I cannot speak

43:42

at that magnitude. A

43:44

shiver runs through Lyra.

43:46

She realizes what the

43:48

spiral-keats do, and what

43:50

plenty of other microbes

43:52

don't, that she is

43:54

nothing more. than a

43:56

fleeting speck on the

43:58

curving back of a

44:00

larger organism. moving, developing

44:03

in the darkness, parts

44:05

communicating across vast and

44:07

small distances, autocrine, perecrene,

44:09

endocrine. She can read

44:11

the sky. She can

44:13

interpret its meaning, but

44:15

it does not make

44:17

sense. She cannot see

44:19

the future. What is

44:21

that? She whispers. What

44:23

is growing out there?

44:25

Knowing. would make no

44:27

difference. The universe is

44:29

already forming according to

44:31

the paths of gravity

44:33

and matter. What kind

44:35

of creature we will

44:37

become? It is impossible

44:39

to say. I cannot

44:41

tell you what functions

44:43

we perform in this

44:45

development, nor what other

44:47

components are involved. We

44:49

must wait to find

44:51

out. Suddenly pained. Suddenly,

44:53

odd, Lyra realizes, she

44:55

will not be alive

44:57

for that moment. She

44:59

will not be around

45:01

to watch the final

45:03

formation, the birth of

45:05

a cosmic giant. She

45:07

will be one of

45:09

the many cells dead

45:11

in the Amnion, a

45:13

withering oocyte, an accretion

45:15

making way for a

45:17

cavity. She will never

45:19

know what role she

45:21

plays and for what

45:23

purpose. She almost laughs.

45:26

It's not fair, she

45:28

tells the microbes. No,

45:30

it is not. What

45:33

do we do now?

45:35

Return to Earth. Watch

45:37

the stars. Ask for

45:39

help. Find a way

45:41

to interpret what we

45:43

see. I guess there's

45:46

not much else we

45:48

can do, is there?

45:50

No. A strange weight.

45:52

sags Libra's shoulders as

45:54

she gazes on her

45:56

map. This lovely transient

45:59

inadequate view from a

46:01

tiny corner of the

46:03

galaxy. She turns her

46:05

little craft homeward, mute

46:07

and mortal, breathless and

46:09

blind, and utterly, strangely,

46:12

joyful. She will not

46:14

return to space in

46:16

her lifetime. Yet so

46:18

long lives this, she

46:20

mutters, streaking down starry

46:22

channels of the nascent

46:25

cosmos. This gives life

46:27

to me. And

46:48

that was Lyra from many angles by

46:51

Hiran Ennis. One of the cruelest realities

46:53

that I faced when I was a

46:55

young sci-fi nerd was how tedious the

46:58

reality of space travel is. For every

47:00

mind-flowing moment where we see people walk

47:02

on the moon, there are millions of

47:05

hours of calculations and math and engineering

47:07

and failure after failure after failure. I

47:09

wanted Star Trek and colorful uniforms and

47:12

magic drink machines and beaming. I didn't

47:14

want to try to figure out how

47:16

old my family would be if I

47:19

traveled the speed of life. To be

47:21

honest, I still don't understand that, but

47:23

that's why I'm not a scientist. I

47:26

don't want to worry about cancer caused

47:28

by cosmic rays, but the unfortunate things

47:30

that happen to a body when returning

47:32

from zero-G. I hear your foot calluses

47:35

just flake off, because there's no pressure

47:37

or friction keeping them on your foot.

47:39

That's the most expensive pedicure I've ever

47:42

heard of this story. Lyra from many

47:44

angles is a lovely tale, but it

47:46

also shows us a lot of the

47:49

tediousness of solo space travel, but it

47:51

doesn't make it boring. I know I

47:53

wouldn't have the patience for any step

47:56

in Lyra's mission, whether it's traveling through

47:58

space or talking to... someone who can't

48:00

answer for hours or spending years mapping

48:03

several specific angles of a star. But

48:05

I really enjoyed reading about her doing

48:07

it. And before anyone defends the glory

48:10

of space science, I will point out

48:12

that brilliant people who do not find

48:14

it tedious usually end up in jobs

48:17

in that field. We're better off for

48:19

that. I wouldn't be a good fit.

48:21

I was completely dismayed when I took

48:24

a basic astronomy course in college and

48:26

realized it was mostly math. But people

48:28

who get it. They're rare and wonderful.

48:30

And it really boils down to the

48:33

fact that to excel in something, you

48:35

must tolerate being bored by it. And

48:37

if you are bored, or just confused

48:40

by the reality of space travel, then

48:42

lucky for you, we have science fiction

48:44

to keep the sense of wonder without

48:47

the math. And if you like math,

48:49

there are stories for you too. Escape

48:51

was the very first fiction podcast. And

48:54

it's a production of Escape Artists Incorporated

48:56

Incorporated. distributed under Creative Commons, attribution, non-commercial,

48:58

no-derivatives, license. That means you can share

49:01

it, but don't charge for it, and

49:03

don't change it. All other rights are

49:05

reserved by our office. Escape Artists is

49:08

a 501c3 nonprofit organization, which means if

49:10

you live in the US, you can

49:12

probably donate to us and write it

49:15

off on your taxes. And we can

49:17

use the support because we pay everyone

49:19

involved with our shows, from the authors

49:22

to the slash readers to the Twitch

49:24

moderators to the Twitch moderators to the

49:26

Twitch moderators. If you'd like to support,

49:29

you can see our support page for

49:31

your options over at escapepod.org and you

49:33

can find PayPal, Patreon, Twitch, and more

49:35

options. And if you have any questions,

49:38

email donations at escapeartis.net. And thank you

49:40

for supporting our mission to bring free

49:42

and accessible speculative audio fiction to a

49:45

global audience. We've been able to do

49:47

this for 20 years, thanks to you.

49:49

This year we're celebrating both our 20th

49:52

anniversary and our 1000 episode. And I

49:54

can say for a fact that our

49:56

20th anniversary episode will be possibly one

49:59

of the most... fun that we posted.

50:01

I'm looking forward to that one. Our

50:03

music is by permission of Dakaiju. We

50:05

can hear more from them at dakaiju.org.

50:08

That was our show for this week.

50:10

Our quote comes from David Bowie. I

50:12

don't know where I'm going from here,

50:14

but I promise it won't be boring.

50:16

Stay safe. Stay kind.