The landing onto Etheria was far from smooth.
My landing module lurched and bucked before it
deposited me with a groan onto the alien, sandy ground, an emerald that stretched up to a
sapphire-colored sky. Emerging, the air thick and sugary in my lungs, filled with the scent of
flowers like nothing on Earth - a cloying sweetness of candy and something acutely metallic.
This was it, my place of residence for the next few months, possibly more. A world teeming with
life, an expression of the universe's endless creativity. But, as Etherians emerged from their
dwellings, their intricate eyes, a vortex of shifting colors, focused on me with a disquieting sense
of haste.
I was an isolated entity. My smooth, silky skin was opposite to their rugged, hard coats, colored
variously from rich purples to orange. They were like insects. My two forward-pointing eyes on
my face were crude compared to their broad-spectrum visions. My best attempts at
communication, through many years of language lessons, were only raw guttural clicks and
whistles to their high, melodic sound. Even the way I moved, my bipetal gait, appeared to be
clumsy and wasteful compared to their smooth, multi limbed trot. And the perfume they carried,
a nice scent of ozone and new rain, caused them to wrinkle up their little faces whenever I
approached. I was, in every conceivable manner, an outsider, having been taken there in order
to study more about them. To see if they would be willing to accept a community. So far, they
are not that willing.
The early times were lonely.
Their eyes followed me wherever I went. In the common areas we shared, people would fall
silent when I came near and talk would only continue after I had passed on by. Food sacrifices,
fine constructions of crystallized nectar, were often left untouched if I had been in the area.
Children, their small iridescent wings fluttering hesitantly, would whisper and nod, their sugary
voices shrouded in shyness. I tried to imitate them, mimicking their actions, bringing simple
gadgets I had learned at home, but my efforts were met with polite confusion or prickly
forbearance. Loneliness became a constant companion, a heavy cloak knotted from their silent
shunning. I yearned for the comfort of familiar human touch, just to be able to speak. Slowly,
however, my innate human impulses began to manifest themselves in ways they hadn't
anticipated. A day, observing their attempts to repair a vital energy conduit using intricate but
ultimately faulty crystalline formations, my engineer's instincts took over.
Using networked components of my landing module and principles of stress distribution learned
on Earth, I created a more robust support structure.
The Etherians' engineers were initially skeptical, but they watched in growing amazement as the
conduit stabilized, humming with new power. Another time was when I went to one of their
community gatherings in which they presented their history through richly detailed, multi-
sensory presentations. I noticed a deficiency in their understanding of celestial mechanics.
Drawing diagrams on the green dust with a simple stick, I drew out the shape of elliptical
planetary orbits and the predictability of eclipses. Having picked them up in just second year on
the space station, these concepts were clearly new to them.
My ability to visualize abstract concepts and translate them into tangible representations kindled
a fire of interest in their bright eyes. My most unexpected contribution was probably by way of
storytelling. In the evenings, under the starry blue sky, I would tell them stories of Earth – myths
of heroes and quests, fables that explored universal themes of courage, pain, and
perseverance. My voice, as alien, possessed a cadence and depth that somehow seemed to
touch a part of them. They closed in around me, their chitinous bodies stiff and their numerous-
eyed surfaces glinting with the moving flash of the bioluminescent plants as I painted with
language, forging tales that crossed language and shape.
I continued to help the Etherians. They chipped away slowly at the wall of fear. My engineering
skills were invaluable in maintaining their technology. My mathematical and physics background
gave meaning to their scientific inquiry. And my stories, full of human emotion and experience,
provided a doorway to understanding an alternate state of consciousness. The whispers
changed with time. The suspicious glances softened into glances of curiosity and even
admiration. Dine invitations came more frequently now, and the nectar crystallized was offered
with hospitality.
Children no longer pointing in terror would come to me with hesitant curiosity, their iridescent
wings brushing against my alien skin.
I was no longer just the "other." I was now the "Earth-speaker," the one with the unique
perspective and surprising powers. I had found my niche, not by becoming a member of one or
the other, but by contributing the unique virtues of man to the fertile soil of Etherian life. The
sapphire heaven was no longer alien, but a welcoming canvas beneath which I, a former
outcast, had finally discovered a home. Not only for me, but for those to come.