CHAPTER TEN
How Our Contacts Become Public
(thanks to my son, Zephyr Branon, and the 2013
world-wide web [www])
In another one of my processing-ideas talks with Zephyr, I ask him: "Do you think Spanners are the first generation to outdo their parents on a regular basis? Most of us are better educated, better equipped to deal with rapid technological advances, better suited to global changes, better able to understand (if not manage) our psychological and sociological mishaps, better prepared to accept (and to instigate) improvements in civil rights for all minorities and women, better outfitted (in all senses of that word) for modern life."
Zephyr replies: "Your parents want you to be better, to have a better world, to be better people. That is, until you argue them into exhaustion, refuse to believe their platitudes and deride them for outdated views and prejudices: then, they are not so pleased with their successes in improving your conditions."
"Do we Spanners learn from our parents’ mistakes?" I ask.
"Absolutely yes, mostly. You create new definitions, generate more knowledge and laws about spousal abuse, child abuse, alcohol and drug consumption while parenting, tobacco use and nutrition as well as reductions in sexism, racism, able-ism, age-ism, homophobia/heterosexism and many other oppressions that permeate each part of the USA and other Western cultures as you are growing up. Many of you are renowned social-change activists, people I study in school!"
"True. We continue as we become the adults in charge. We are, as a whole, better parents—less abusive, more aware, more involved—but we are not necessarily better at dealing with our own children’s ability to outshine us." We both laugh at that.
"You are a prime example of a child of Spanners who outshines both me and your dad in many ways," I tell him. "At least once a month and sometimes twice a week, we have a conversation something like this... This is my rendition. Let me read it to you, all right?"
ME: Hi, Honey. How are things?
ZEPHYR: Okay. What’s up?
ME: Well, I need some help. Do you know anything about _______ [Fill in the blank with something to do with internet usage, my cell phone’s quirks, my DVD player’s functionality, my phone landline’s problems, my computer’s issues….]?
ZEPHYR: Well, probably more than you know. What’s going on?
My intelligent, capable son then listens carefully and is patient with me, giving great advice or explanations, at first.
Soon, he realizes that one of the following (or more than one) is occurring. He then tells me that I:
► am not listening as well as he wants me to be;
► am not understanding what he’s explaining as easily as he wishes I would;
► have already messed up so badly that he can’t even explain how to fix my problem; or
► the fix is so obvious that he just laughs and laughs and can’t even talk.
Things begin to break down from there.
Inevitably, especially if more than one of the above situations ensues, the conversation continues, as below:
ZEPHYR: MOM! Stop talking! Let me finish!
ME: Oh. Sorry. I thought you were finished.
ZEPHYR: MOM! You can’t talk when I’m talking if you have me on speakerphone.
ME: Oh. Sorry. I forgot.
ZEPHYR: MOM! Stop moving your cell phone. Take me off speaker. I can’t understand you; it all sounds like mush. What is wrong with your phone?
ME: It’s just where I live; I have bad reception. I am not moving it.
ZEPHYR: Your speakerphone sucks. Take me off it.
ME: If I take you off it, I can’t hear you as well. My ears don’t work so well on phones, you know.
ZEPHYR: Just hold the phone closer to your ear.
ME: I am.
ZEPHYR: Stop pressing buttons. Stop moving your cell phone. Now I can’t hear you.
ME: I'm not pressing buttons on purpose, but when I take you off Speaker and hold the phone closer, my ear presses the buttons. Bad design. Not my fault!
ZEPHYR: MOM! I can't hear you at all!
And so, it deteriorates from there. Usually, though, we hang in there and he is able to help me fix/understand/stop making things worse with whatever situation or device I call about and we end on a good note, miraculously. Our senses of humor save us.
"What do you think? Do I capture us accurately enough?" I ask him.
Zephyr is so quiet I don't know if my phone has cut him off. "Zef?"
"Mom," he is choking with laughter, "that is hilarious. Do I really sound like that to you? That's just perfect!"
"Well, glad you liked it. I have no pride. I do not pretend to know. I start to tell you what I know, but you quickly disabuse me of any notion that I am the least bit well-informed. I know I do not know what you know. I don’t even want to know what you know."
"I know, I know," Zef is still laughing as he quotes me, "'I don’t have to know how to fix a car to drive one; I don’t have to be able to fly the plane to ride on it.' You expect people who know more than you do about their areas to help the rest of us and you do the same. Got that philosophy down, Mom. It's become my own."
"But I feel as if we Spanners are all supposed to know how to use every new phone, every new home entertainment system component, every type of hardware and software for home and office use in addition to every other hand-held or personal computing device that is invented as soon as it is available. That is just not possible. Not for me. Not for many of us. I don't even own or have access to most of them."
"Mom, people my age can barely remember a time when there are not computers and cell phones everywhere. Our brains are wired differently from yours. Our thumbs have evolved from texting and working the controls on video games. Really."
"I agree," I say. "You all seem to do this acclimating and adjusting to new technology effortlessly. You’re tweeting, texting, playing these very complicated video games with your extremely fast reflexes using oddly shaped controls and buttons. You are amazingly adept, with your thumbs, at finding and utilizing information and media resources online, sharing and sending and storing music, videos, photos, text and whatever else is invented to do that. Spanners are falling behind."
I go on. "As a pianist, I consider myself quite dexterous, but using the virtual keypad with its too-tiny, too-close-together keys on my cell phone causes ridiculous emails and even funnier mistakes in texts. Then, I compound my errors since I do not wear my reading glasses enough of the time. I'm too rushed to reach for them. But, I can’t see how badly I’m messing up my messages. I am not the only Spanner having these issues."
I hear Zef laughing again. "So glad I can entertain you, Son."
In addition to having my son be one of one of the first and most responsive readers of this book, it is obvious that he is the best person to be my main consultant (until I get to know Espe better) for making the MWC contacts public. He and one of my oldest nieces, Leah Iris, Cassie’s daughter, who is about 8 years younger than Zef, help with MWC contact PR a lot.
Espe, about two years younger than Zef, is great at making the MWC visits credible and getting the info out on reliable (read: not tabloid or discredited), national and international news media outlets. Zef and Leah (who is even more amazingly adept in the tech and online worlds), advise me on the best ways to reach the younger generations with this info.
Zephyr and Leah post info on other websites, email their own contacts, make Facebook announcements, keep current with LinkedIn updates, upload photos and videos to several sites designed for these purposes, add to their own and others’ ‘blogs, and tweet (post on Twitter). They also ask Espe for photos and upload them to Instagram and other photo sites.
Zef and Leah design and keep up their own websites, so they co-create the website for Earth's first Chief Communicator. Zephyr and Leah distribute the MWC info we’re allowed to disseminate quickly, efficiently and frequently. If Espe is the "A" team, they are the "A-prime" team.
Amazingly, even though we get some great coverage and feedback from Espe’s stories and they earn her a Pulitzer Prize, Zephyr and Leah’s information “blasts” bring the greatest number of reactions from around the world, especially from people under age 40. At one point in late February, 2013, Zef tells me that we have received about 3.5 BILLION “hits” on a video Espe made of the first MWC contact she is allowed to film and share because they put it on youtube.com via Twitter and Facebook. The entire population of Earth at this time is only about twice that number.
About half the people on this planet, perhaps (it’s not exact, because someone could view the same video more than once) see and hear Led, Ringo, Mick, Janis—Diana visiting me within a few weeks of the occurrence.
Remember what befalls Princess Diana and what happens with other mega-celebrities, then multiply that by about a billion and you’ll not even come close to what goes on around me and these others because of the initial coverage. This is, well, what it is: Aliens. First public contacts to be filmed. Unprecedented and occurring via the media explosion of the 21st century.
The ramifications of this wide a coverage for one event are unheard of and staggering. The impact on my life, on Espe’s, on everyone who knows me or who others believe know me (which becomes the entire population of the little town I live in, and this entire region, apparently), on everyone who is related to me, or on whomever has worked with or been in school with me, is tremendous. My LinkedIn profile and Facebook page crash. We have to shut down my personal Twitter feed.
I can laugh about it now because it is "over" ALT [According to Linear Time]. I also “see” it in advance in various timelines so it’s not so shocking the fifth time around.
Right away, the OSes arrive via holograms and in physical forms (and the variety of physical forms is CRAZY), so I feel protected.
But, the first few days, the first version of this timeline: HOLY PAPPARAZI! The National Guard (most are back in the USA from the recently discontinued wars and standing around doing nothing, anyway) are sent to direct traffic, protect me and the townsfolk here in Kirov, re-route nonessential personnel from all roads leading to Kirov and basically keep people from going completely bonkers.
What these looky-loos think they’re going to do if they actually see me is baffling. What do they want? An autograph? Really? Or, do they think I’ll invite them in for tea and the MWC will just pop in, too? What is their major maladjustment? Do they really fail to grasp the concepts of "exclusive Media Contact" and "private communications"?
After about two days of this, on yet another clear winter's day, I call Led.
His holo is hovering over my dining room table almost immediately, followed by Ringo's and Janis' holos standing near me. About thirty seconds later, Diana's and Mick's show up, apologizing for being late.
I laugh.
Led: “What do you need, Clara?”
Me: “This is unworkable. There must be something you can do so people have their own access to some of your info or to videos of visits from you, or something! We have to get them back to their own lives and stop them from trying to crawl into mine! Please!”
Janis: “We are providing Access; installation is almost complete around the globe. When would you like to announce and demo it?”
Me: “’Access’?”
Ringo, extending a long, jacinth appendage into the air in front of me and pulling down a screen, points as images appear on it.
“See?" Ringo points with another orange appendage. "Every being, starting with first humans and all upper primates, cetaceans (whales, porpoises and dolphins) and cephalopods (squids, octupi), then representatives from many other species (elephants, equines, canines, felines, birds, reptiles, dromedaries, marsupials) are equipped with holo access to our libraries and resources. Cnidaria (invertebrates), chordata (vertebrates), arthropods, molluscs and echinoderms all get Access, what you eventually call your iD [Pronounced eye-Dee]. Each phylum contains the sentient species currently occupying Earth."
The types of animals in each phylum flash by, the images changing rapidly on the screen as he talks.
"All you and they do to gain Access is establish intention and pose a question telepathically. Then, almost instantly—by Earth-time perception—information appears on a screen in front of them or wherever their visual and mental receptors need it to be, just like the one we provide you for Instructions and training. Information is automatically available in all written languages as well as pictographic, sonographic and telepathic modalities of communication. For ants, bees and others in colony collectives, we provide iDs to the hive mind via the queens.” Ringo withdraws one appendage.
Mick explains, the lights on his flat head part blinking away: “We’re having a bit of trouble creating the proper interfaces for the largest predator birds and smallest arachnids and amphibians because we do not often provide iDs to creatures with complex brains that are this tiny, but we’re working on it."
“They’re holoscreens, so water is not an issue,” Diana continues, answering my question before I get to ask it.
“How shall we make the announcement and when do you want to conduct the online trainings?” Janis asks me.
Mick offers, “Or, we can do it all for you.” His two turquoise appendages point to places on the screen as these are dates to consider. The cilia on his arms wiggle, making the screen seem to be underwater with him.
Led starts bouncing a bit which I know means he wants to intercede. He usually does intervene when Mick gets “too generous.”
I hurriedly accept Mick’s offer which causes Led to stop bouncing.
I know I outflank Led, temporarily. Once I accept an MWC offer, it has to be allowed. Protocol.
See? I read the Instructions!
Led stays on slow hovering.
I turn to Mick, eager to proceed. “How does that work, exactly, if you ‘do it all for me’? Just to be clear, it's not really 'for me.'"
Led takes over, sounding a bit miffed, but then getting into the spirit of moving forward quite well. “It’s simple, really: you give us the ‘go.’ We make simultaneous announcements and conduct individual trainings all around the planet over a 24-hour period. By the end of that cycle, all beings in the first pod of users are ready to roll.” Led sounds proud at the end. He loves to show off his modern English slang.
I smile at him approvingly, nodding enthusiastically at both him and Mick. “YES! Why not? What are the drawbacks?” I’ve learned to ask this early on, just in case.
Remember the almost disastrous “dance” program the MWC beams to us, showing dancers from thousands of planets, right after Espe's first vid goes live? It is well-intentioned: welcome to the MWC, this is how we party and all that. Luckily, it is only made available for about twenty minutes before Zephyr, Leah and some of their friends catch it and SKYPE me with questions, gasping with laughter. I get the MWC to withdraw the vid as I explain to them that, although these “dancers” are “dancing” in their own cultures, most Earthers are not quite ready to view these moves or bodies, yet, especially when they’re inserting who knows what into who knows where. “We’re just too prudish,” I say. Then, I spend about thirty minutes trying to explain “prudish.” It is a somewhat hilarious debacle. Not to be repeated. Best-laid plans….Pun intended.
So, I wait for a response. I know they have to check with the MWC InterGalactic [IGC] Council leaders whenever I ask about potential drawbacks (it’s another formal Protocol moment) because my question requires timulting to acquire a formal listing of potential drawbacks or a promise of none. What if these changes somehow make it easier to recruit more of the Fraggers? Does this incite more violence from the Trenchers?
About one minute goes by. Then two. This is an eternity, for them. I wonder what is going on? Maybe the IGC leaders are sleeping? Do they sleep?
“Checking all timelines, all divergences and all possible outcomes,” Janis explains. “An Intervention of this magnitude must be done carefull
y and thoroughly. Planet-wide, multiple species involvement, simultaneous onset, not entirely voluntary. Can’t be too careful. More than one IGC member is timulting.”
I must look a bit shaken, especially at the “not entirely voluntary” part, because Diana hastily adds, “Good that you ask. ‘Not entirely voluntary’ means we provide iDs whether each type of inhabitant specifically requests it. After we do that, Access is here, whenever anyone wants it or whether no one wants it.”
Led starts bouncing, again, so I know he is ready to talk. “No drawbacks of any great size!” he announces, almost proudly. "No significant harm."
A natural skeptic, I have to ask, “What does ‘no significant harm’ mean, exactly?”
Ringo pronounces, in somewhat official tones: “No important impact and definitely no harm to any individual or species group, now or in any timulted future, occur due to this Intervention.”
I relax. Hearing this, I know it is all safe. This is the highest rank of outcomes one can get for an Intervention of this type, I imagine.
“Yes,” Mick agrees with my silent assessment. “Couldn’t be better!”
“Okay!” I say. “Green light!”
I feel a sense of puzzlement coming from Led. Then he bounces and says, “Yes! Car traveling slang!” to show he understands.
I am feeling excited, now. First, do no harm: Doctors, Buddhists, and the MWC have this edict in common. I am thoroughly reassured.
I feel a change in the air around me.
Janis—Diana move closer to me, as if to comfort me. “There is one change, Clara,” Janis begins.
Diana continues, “It’s about Epifanio and you.”
My stomach drops to the floor. “No. Really? But you said nothing ‘significant.’”
Led bounces over to me. “This change is insignificant compared to all the other possible problems and alterations, as we show you.”
My chest feels tight and my heart hurts. “It’s very significant to me, though. What exactly changes between me and Fanio?”
“You don’t exactly get to live together,” Led tells me, gently. “Not soon and probably not in this timeline at all. You continue to have a friendship, but that is all.”
I slump, defeated, in my chair, putting my head on my hands on my table. I know I can’t do anything. Not only would that be incredibly selfish and about twelve kinds of wrong. It wouldn’t even help anything for me to try.
Even though I already know my being married or even lovers with Epifanio is unlikely, I still have hopes every day that I am wrong.
Access for all (while solving my PR problems) is too important. I am Psi-Ped. Thoroughly.
I try to fight it, quickly timulting, going over every possible objection. Every alternative fails to change this outcome. Thousands of lives are at stake. Literally.
I tune it to what I call my “Fanio Channel.” I still “see” us, living together, loving each other, having that long, wonderful, intimate relationship. It’s happening, somewhere, in some timeline. That has to be enough for me. I can visit when I timult.
I lift my head. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll handle it,” I tell them. “Proceed.”
Mick tells me, “Already have, Clara. Already have.”
This is the background story of how Earthers of every type acquire instant Access to all the information that the MWC determines they are allowed to have. As Chief Communicator, I still have primary Access and solo jurisdiction over a lot, but only the MWC knows how much. I still have to distribute that info as directed.
Tell this story to your children and their children. Leave out the part about me and Epifanio, all right? No one needs to hear my whining.
Back to Kirov and my PR problems. Within one week of granting global Access, the MWC holos inform me that the National Guard are mostly gone, traffic is mostly back to normal and no one is being accosted to approach me or “my people.” Now that everyone can get, at any time, almost anything they want to know, and they can see some of the same information I see, my physical location is not so important to them. They can even download information about each of the MWC delegation members, so I include that, here, in a later Chapter.
They do not know, of course, what they do not know. But, that’s fine. I would not be needed as Chief Communicator if everyone could know everything all the time, right? Holding my post for almost thirty years means just what you imagine it means: I am here because Earthers can’t know it all, or all at once, or without some kind of filtering at times. Isn’t good for us.
Although, sometimes I think: if we could grab the leaders of the Fraggers and download EVERYTHING, they would frigging SHUT UP and get over themselves.
Then, the Trenchers would have no support. They'd have to disband or choose to be ReInvolved and we’d all just get along.
Right.
‘Cause that’s so human.
CHAPTER INTERLUDE VIII
Excerpts from the Chief Communicator’s Occasional Log, "Clara: the Outsider Who Becomes the Ultimate Insider"
Rehearsal for interview with Espe for May 2, 2013
April 20, 2013
Espe asks: "Clara, talk about the Spanners Series books, first. People want to know about them."
All right," I agree.