The spaceship was a mathematically – and thus ultimately – perfect silver sphere, absolute in its adherence to physical laws without regard for fragile aesthetics or insignificant atmospheric efficiencies. It slid down the planet’s gravity well in a subtle curve that spoke of universal constants and Euclid and the gentle spiral of an ammonite’s shell, of pi without fillage, of the music of the stars and universal constants.
It parked on top of a lot of grass and trees and some gazebos and the Science Team filed out. Each and every one of them were men of perfectly irrelevant size and stature whose personalities had been mapped into their fields by cutting—edge psychological science since youngest days, and accordingly possessed the overwhelming confidence and resolution of those who had never not known exactly what they were doing. Squaredness of jaw and firmness of gaze were unanimous psychologically if not physically.
“What a magnificent archology,” mused the Captain as he gazed upon the skyscrapers. “Truly the inhabitants of this planet dream skywards. Lo, they shall soon slip the earthly bonds of this planet for a destiny among the stars.”
“This is completely inevitable,” agreed the Fiat Historian. “All data points converge upon them reaching their equivalent of the Lopschnell Epiphany within the century. Doubtlessly they’ve undergone the Archaemaniacal Retraction at least twice by this point – both preceding and following their sixth nuclear war and the resulting diplomatic exchange of ranking dukes and scholars – leading to the rush for moon dust and centrifugal jugs. All the math proves it based on our readings of how many microwaves they’ve put into their atmosphere in the last six minutes.”
“Indeed,” replied the Chief Seconder, “as we are all aware, historoloy is a matter of axiomatic fact and scientific data and is not host to any vagaries of so-called ‘interpretation.’”
“Now let’s contact the locals,” said the Captain. “You there!” he called at a passing cat, “we are here to share our vast knowledge of the cosmos! We have the knowledge of ALL perfected forms of medicine, machines, government, and social behaviours, and are willing to give them away as is our mutual self-interest.”
The cat stopped, flicked its ears at him, narrowed its eyes briefly, then began to lick its anus with great vigour.
“A truly advanced people socially, even if their grasp of machinery remains primitive,” marvelled the Fiat Historian. “See the confidence with which even the average citizen pauses to evaluate their options without fear of appearing weak or indecisive. These are beings of reason. Doubtless their eugenics programs are well-developed to produce a superior personality – one saturated with enlightenment and reason, rather than criminal paranoia or superstitious awe.” The cat switched to licking its upturned leg, and the Fiat Historian’s mouth dropped open in awe. “Look! It’s even considering multiple positions on the spot! Magnificent!”
“I agree,” said the Chief Seconder. “This is completely sound and reasonable. All the evidence is in indisputable accord with your arguments.”
The Machine Maker looked up from his tools. “My machines say that this isn’t the leader,” he announced in his bland voice. “It is too small. The leader lies in that direction.” And he held up a machine that pointed in a direction.
“I agree with that, since the machines are never incorrect,” said the Chief Seconder.
“I will lead us now,” said the Captain. And with those words he strode out in the indicated direction into the midst of a flat asphalt path, where a fast—moving metallic object crashed into him and dragged his corpse for dozens of yards. A fleshy bipedal appliance popped out of it and began making high—pitched warnings in some kind of repeated alert.
“My health machine says that the Captain has died,” said the Machine Maker.
“Curses!” said the Fiat Historian. “A group without its leader is approximately two hundred percent more likely to suffer catastrophic social dissolution and failure as it breaks down under the whims of its unspecialized and ignorant members! Since I recognize this is a problem, I’m in charge now.”
“I second that,” agreed the Chief Seconder. “It makes perfect sense.”
“I only care about machines,” said the Machine Maker.
“Sounds excellent,” said the Fiat Historian. “We are now going to succeed because we have a leader again, in accordance with Mecklebaum’s Rule. I will lead us now. Carefully.” And with those words he strode out in the indicated direction. Carefully.
***
Across the path of asphalt (and the corpse of the former Captain, now surrounded by more bipedal appliances, all honking and beeping and wailing their alert—sirens) lay more green grass and trees and some new gazebos that their spaceship hadn’t parked on top of.
“This is a remarkable achievement,” said the Fiat Historian (and Captain). “See how the wilderness intrudes violently upon the terrain of the archology in these areas? Doubtless the foreign material is the result of relativistic kill—bolides deployed by rival powers outside the solar system, seeded with biological weaponry designed to overwhelm and rend asunder technological development. And yet even with their seemingly—feeble knowledge, behold how they have built failsafes into their environment! Why, this grass is edged with harsh silica and replicates at astonishing speeds even with little soil or water – yet behold how stoutly this feeble concrete slab resists its encroachment! Inspiring stuff.”
“It’s amazing,” said the Chief Seconder. “We will become very famous and respected for discovering this and speaking so confidently and correctly about it.”
“My machine says that the leader is in that direction,” said the Machine Maker, pointing across an odd body of fluid. “Across that odd body of fluid. I don’t know what kind of fluid it is because I didn’t pack my fluid describing machine.”
“Simple historical factualism will enlighten us,” chuckled the Fiat Historian (and Captain). “Logically, this must be simple and wholesome sulphuric acid – any halfway sophisticated civilization that has undergone the Verbotskew Enlightenment such as this will have recognized its many benefits in industrial and commercial applications, and will have large bodies of it freely available for all to partake and sample.”
“My colour machine says that it’s blue,” said the Machine Maker.
“What, do you think it’s dihydrogen monoxide?” scoffed the Fiat Historian (and Captain). “Good gravy, what sort of society would leave something like that lying around where anyone could simply step into it? Get moving.”
“Yes, we should get moving now,” said the Chief Seconder.
“I only know what my machines say,” said the Machine Maker. So he packed up his machines on his back and walked forwards into the liquid where his suit dissolved followed by his entire exoskeleton.
“Dihydrogen monoxide? How peculiar,” said Fiat Historian (and Captain). “This makes no sense according to all known laws of historology.”
“Ah, well, nevertheless,” said the Chief Seconder. “There’s a bridge over here.”
***
The bridge led to a high-security compound. Dozens of beings watched the brave explorer-scientists from within deluxe suites, shielded from happenstance and harm by an ingenuous combination of bars, fences, gates, moats, and little concrete walls. Great plaques adorned each office, depicting its inhabitants’ deeds, names, and anatomy.
“Again, we see the high quality of social character exhibited by this civilization,” pontificated the Fiat Historian (and Captain). “Behold! They know that complete transparency of decision-making is necessary for a people’s trust in their leaders to be guaranteed without reservation or misplaced faith. Witness the small shrieking one dangling from a tree by his tail: he is masturbating, confident that his fellows will judge him dispassionately.”
“A truly naked culture without shame or insincerity,” marvelled the Chief Seconder. “We can only speculate wildly about the quality and superiority of their leader. Which is he, anyways?”
“Aha!” shouted the Fiat Historian (and Captain), finger extending boldly forwards. “Behold! Alone, without machine aid, fuelled only by the brilliance of our naturally—trained brains, we have discovered him! He lies before us and a little bit below sprawled on that big rock next to the pond.”
“Aha!” said the Chief Seconder. “Well done!”
“Indeed! Now I shall go in to introduce myself. What does this sign say anyways?”
The Chief Seconder squinted carefully at the sign. “S I B E R I A N T I G E R,” he relayed promptly.
“Stirring! In I go!”
“A wonderful idea! I will wait”
The Chief Seconder stood at attention for ten minutes, whistling happily and ignoring many loud noises.
“I am ready!” he shouted, just in case someone was listening.
And later: “I am still waiting!”
Then, much later: “I might wish someone would suggest eating soon. I’m getting hungry. I mean, I think I am. I don’t know for sure until someone tells me.”
***
There may have been survivors, but a passing summer shower late in the afternoon melted the entire ship into a puddle and the point became moot.