Ashley had thought long and hard, during the two Satamia days needed to get the space probe home, about what she would do and say at this moment.
She had asked for, and received opinions from everyone on the ship.
A number of possibilities came up for speeches she could give, lectures to the people of Ko-tera Three about what they were doing wrong, and what the consequences would be if they continued. Several of her advisors were in favor of that approach.
Others pointed out that the people of Ko-tera Three already knew all that stuff, and if they had any desire to act upon it, they would, of their own accord.
Ashley, of course, listened most closely to Memsala and Arantiloria. She would have liked to know Shemultavia’s thoughts on the matter, or even Kerloran’s, and would have interpreted either as inviolable commands, but neither showed themselves.
In the end, with less than an hour remaining to their destination, Ashley had made the decision to do little, say little, but be open to hints and guidance that might come from just about any source, including an unexpected one.
The dancer continued to move gracefully among the young people, smiling at all, touching some like a visiting butterfly. The people and animals on the alien ship-platform, most of whom weren’t aliens at all, chatted and laughed, but didn’t seem inclined to blast anyone with ray guns. Catered food arrived
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for the mayor, city council, and space-probe technicians. For many reasons, the relaxed picnic atmosphere returned to Capital Park.
Nearly every teenager had joined the dance, as well as many older children and a few adults. Younger children played in groups on the grass not far from their parents, like at any picnic.
One mother was chatting with another and didn’t notice her five-year-old boy toddle away.
Ashley and Brian were on the platform swaying to the music, Toran Takil had curled up for a nap in the sunshine, Kolarrr’ka had taken wing for some exercise, and T’sss’lisss was still on the podium, stretching this way and that, just for fun.
“Mister Snake, can I see inside your space ship?” the little boy asked from the grass just a few feet away.
T’sss’lisss didn’t have time to get a translation from Ashley, as the worried mother was quickly on the scene, scooping up her son and scolding him as she began to walk away and he started to cry.
Suddenly Ashley knew what she had to say, and stepped to the podium. A code tapped into her bracelet caused the music to fall completely silent.
“There’s . . . your . . . hint,” the mission leader said loudly and clearly.
Priscilla ceased her graceful movements and turned to look.
Toran Takil awoke and sat up to listen.
The mother, still holding her son, froze and turned around.
The mayor set down his lunch and stepped out of the tent.
Nearly everyone else in the park fell silent in their conversations or play so they could hear the alien.
T’sss’lisss slithered down off the podium so Ashley could be seen.
“On message plaque on space probe,” the mission leader continued, “you asked what could do to save own innocent ones from the climate change as will soon destroy civilization yours. I not come here to lecture you or solve problems for, but little boy and mother just gave better clue than could I ever.”
Doctor Chris Po-selem was on the edge of his bench.
“It very simple. You not learned to listen your children. Only they know way forward during times of change great. Only their minds enough fresh and
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flexible for avoid fears that keep in old ways.”
Priscilla was nodding and grinning from ear to ear where she stood on the grass.
“A ship arrives from you call Heaven,” Ashley went on, “sent by you call God, and reaction is fear. Child’s mind open to new experiences, new information, exactly what needed right now. You learn from them, or you perish. Either way, with or without, universe will go on.”
Ashley touched her bracelet, the music started again, and the dancer resumed her graceful angelic or fairy-like movements among the young and young-at-heart.
The mother struggled with herself for a long moment. Her son, still in her arms, looked at her with pleading eyes. Eventually, with tortured steps, she carefully approached the platform and looked up at the alien girl in a purple robe. “Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to protect my boy from anything strange.”
Ashley sat down on the edge of the platform. “Those same instincts tell hold onto all old habits, even when planet cannot tolerate another mouth to feed, cannot absorb another day pollution, cannot give more any coal, oil, and gas.”
The mother stood with tears in her eyes, looking back and forth from her hopeful son, to the alien girl, horse, and tiger, to the military officers and scientists behind them. She did not consciously understand, but she somehow felt the weight and importance of the moment.
“Please mom,” the boy begged. “I promise not to touch anything.”
Ashley suppressed her temptation to smile.
“Well . . . okay . . . but just for a few minutes.”
The boy smiled.
Ashley stood at the podium again. “One brave mother find courage to listen to child, grant him freedom to learn as his heart. More any children with brave parents there? I give tour of little ship eight children, easily as one.”
All over Capital Park, children from three years, to ten or eleven, began begging their parents for permission to see the inside of the alien ship. Some,
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of all different ages, just headed toward the platform as fast as their legs could go, daring their parents to stop them.
Ashley, standing at the edge of the platform, witnessed many little discussions between parents and children, some quiet and rational, others heated. She remained silent, except to gesture to Kibi, then explain in whispers what was about to happen.
Kibi slipped into the ship to get it ready.
About ten minutes after making the offer, thirty-seven children stood on the grass near the platform, parents at their sides.
Ashley looked at them and swallowed. “I give tour in groups eight. All have parents decided to let your children have experience?”
Some more quickly than others, all the adults affirmed with nods or words.
Suddenly, even though the dancer had not been paying attention to the gathering of children and parents at the edge of the platform, she stumbled and nearly fell, barely managing to keep her feet under her. Where am I?
What am I doing here? Why are all these people . . . dancing?
She looked around, and couldn’t remember anything about the situation.
She was in a park she didn’t recognize. Thousands of people, mostly adults, were seated on the grass with picnic baskets or ice chests, laughing and talking, or watching events in the middle of the park. Around her, hundreds of youth and older children were dancing to a piece of music that sounded nice, but wasn’t familiar. In the very center of the park, a low platform held a number of important-looking people and some tame animals. A bunch of children were just now climbing onto the platform with the help of their parents.
Then the dancer noticed what she was wearing, and remembered that when she stumbled, her entire body had been in motion. I must be a dancer.
But I’m not like all the other people, who are just in street clothes moving to the music as best they can. I’m wearing a fancy dance outfit, so I must be a professional dancer — I must be the one leading the dance!
She noticed that some people were ceasing to dance, and giving her strange looks, as if wondering if something was wrong. Even though it was unfamiliar, she began to let herself move to the music. Her body seemed to
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remember the music, even if her mind didn’t. The people around her appeared comforted that she was dancing again, and resumed their smiling, laughing, and simple movements.
That’s it, the dancer thought to herself, I’m the leader of this dance! This must be a very special occasion, judging by all those important people on the platform. I should dance with all my skill and all my heart. I think my name is Jan, but I’m not really sure. Anyway, dance now, figure things out later
. . .