“The Kaonan sector is about to get a
little noisier.”
“The Kaonan sector? It's only the
Kaonans out there, right? And they're a stable, low-traffic
civilization. If they were about to ramp up activity, they would
have told us. Even if they didn't tell us, I have other sources, and
they haven't heard anything.”
“It's not the Kaonans. It's those
infants twenty light-years toward the core.”
“The monkey-people?”
“The ones who call themselves
'humans,' yes.”
“The monkey people haven't done
anything for several hundred rotations. If you hadn't made regular
reports otherwise, I would have assumed they went extinct.”
“No, they're not extinct. Earth went
dark, but the humans are still there.”
“If they're still there, why did they
ever go dark?”
“They were busy.”
“Very busy?”
“Busy enough to give a name to their
busyness. They called it 'the Great Reorganization.' It took quite
a long time.”
“So they're a planet of bureaucrats?”
“Not anymore. Most of them are quite
embarrassed by the name, actually.”
“If all of them hate it, why do they
use it?”
“Because it fits. All of the
speculation that one of their great military powers might have a
second civil war went for naught. At one point, their President
tried to start a civil war, and found that the army was split into
far more than the two factions he had suspected. They wouldn't sever
their ties with their own local origins, nor would they fire on their
countrymen. There was no revolution, either. The civil war that
didn't happen represented a failure on the part of national-level
powers, but there was no immediate abdication of power and no
replacement regime. Regional governments simply grew in power, and
then they too gave way to independence at the local level.”
“If it went so smoothly, why did the
humans go dark at all?”
“Well, it did not go entirely
smoothly. With the breakdown of any sort of large-scale authority,
life in the urban centers went from being a somewhat ridiculous
concept, and statistically somewhat miserable, to being utterly
horrifying. In the outlying areas, life became somewhat
technologically backwards, but it was not a nightmare like it was in
the city. Naturally, the urbanites–those who survived–fled
there. Just as naturally, things did not get much better for them.
Humans living in cities, on average, learned no transferable survival
skills whatsoever. They had no chance of making it on their own.
Natives of the rural areas had formed smaller, close-knit societies
of friends and family, had no use for them, and were loathe to take
in outsiders in the midst of the turmoil. Even the rural
collectives, which tended to have more members who were capable of
surviving without depending on large-scale commerce, did not all make
it.”
“So the monkey-people went dark
because of a near-extinction event?”
“There was a drastic reduction in the
population, but it wasn't as extreme as a near extinction. In any
case, much of the drop in population has been voluntary or
semi-voluntary. Their population had reached an unhealthy level
before, and it wasn't as though nobody was aware of it. Before, some
governments had attempted to put population-control measures in
place, but those were failures. Humans did not react particularly
well to some distant, impersonal entity telling them what they could
and could not do with their bodies. However, when the same edicts
came from a beloved or respected neighbor, responses tended to be
more favorable. The leaders of the new micro-societies succeeded
where the largest and most powerful governments had failed.”
“You seem to be telling me what
didn't cause the monkey-people's four-hundred rotations of silence.
At what point will you come to the cause?”
“I was just coming to it. You see,
humanity had evolved outside of large, heavily-commercialized
societies, but their technology had not. With more pressing
concerns, people completely forgot how to make or use most of it, and
the rest was difficult to operate or maintain. And, in any case, it
was only one or two generations before most of humanity was content
simply to talk among their fellows in their own small collectives.
The human brain is optimized for small-group socialization, just as
you would expect in a sentient being with significant intelligence
and personality. In a way, humans have gone back to their roots.”
“And what has changed now?”
“Nothing more or less than the
direction of human ambition. For a long time, humanity did not look
to the stars as a destination, or a field of study, or anything other
than scenery. Now, their gaze has returned.”
“Are they capable of reaching that
destination?”
“Not right now, no, though they are
almost assuredly capable of making contact. They are not the
primitive, tribal people of a dark species. Their Great
Reorganization did not cause them fall into the pattern of endless
small-scale warfare that characterized much of their early existence.
They have reestablished strong commercial ties, although not on a
scale that would threaten to condense and consume their society into
anything as unhealthy as urbanized civilization. They are close to
eclipsing their previous technological peak, but this time, instead
of using that technology to produce more and more commercial goods,
they are using it to cultivate leisure and improved lifestyles. If
they believed seeing the stars would improve their lifestyle, they
could get there eventually, and if we gave them a reason, I believe
they could achieve it within mere dozens of rotations. Their first
round of interstellar transmissions are imminent.”
“So we must determine whether to
respond.”
“That is it exactly.”
“Standard policy toward the
monkey-people is to monitor their activity, remain undetectable, and
under no circumstances respond to any of their communication.”
“First-year exopolitics.”
“You are not in position to change
standard policy. Nevertheless, I value your expertise on the planet
Earth, and I will hear your recommendation. Would you advise a
change to standard policy?”
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