Angels and Devils

“So you’re telling me you’re from another dimension?”

The Under-Secretary paced around his superiors office, before finally throwing his suit jacket onto a chair facing the desk and sat down. Sweat dripped from his forehead and pattered quietly onto the papers thrown out before him. He picked one up, realised he couldn’t read it in the darkened office, and threw that down too.

“I apologise again for our poor excuse of a diplomat.”

The being seated opposite him was normal in most respects. It resembled a young man, possibly Asian in face, wearing a casual suit with no tie. Other than the fact the figure was completely made of a slightly chromed metal from head to toe, it was a perfect human specimen.

“We don’t have any staff on board our vessel which communicate via particle vibration, or else we would have sent one down with a translator.”

Turning away from the light smile the metal man now wore, the under-secretary peered out the window at the immense sphere hanging over the Geneva office, and suddenly realised it was made of the same metal as his guest. Turning back to them, the undersecretary stood again.

“Could you just, please.” He stopped, and mopped his still sweating brow with the tissue he had grabbed from the tea tray on his way in. “Just explain it for me again, please. Slowly. And go easy on the vocabulary.”

The worried look on his face didn’t faze the metal being seated in front of him. Instead, they exhaled slowly, closed and opened their mouth a few times, and begun speaking.

“To answer your previous question, yes. We represent an organisation of life forms, consciousnesses and stars which exist outside of your immediate universe. We respect that at your point of civilizationary development, recognising life outside your stellar system is impressive. We also respect that you are eager for knowledge but I’m afraid it goes against our mantra to instruct or teach you.”

At this point the secretary sat down again, and rubbed his nose the way he always did when he was nervous. He glanced at the door where the huge gaggle of people waited outside. He wondered if the director of Outer Space Affairs would be more suited to this lecture. He also wasn’t able to mask a horrifying sense of fear he was feeling about this entire situation. He had been yanked from a rather neat speech he was halfway through giving to the general assembly then forced to sit through all manner of military officials warning him about an incoming extrastellar object. When, merely minutes later the sky above had darkened as the craft stopped, he had wanted to run home and lock himself in his greenhouse away from all the panic. Then, after the chromed figure had spoken to several lower officials, he was instead shoved into the Secretary General’s office with the alien creature and forced to talk to it. He was thoroughly not enjoying the experience.

“Mister Under-Secretary? If you could attend me fully, this next part is rather important.”

The secretary jerked back to the silver face, and cleared his head of all thoughts but its speech. The Secretary General arrived in two hours. He only had to wait until then.

“Yes, yes sorry go on.”

In the report he would file later that day, the undersecretary found the next few minutes incredibly difficult to describe. After ten unsuccessful minutes he forgot writing entirely and spent another ten attempting to sketch what he had seen. What he barely managed to capture in writing was essentially a presentation the visitor had given to convey the scales and sizes they described, as well as some colourful flourishes to give what he perceived as emotional context. What only the sketch captured was how the miniscule beads of light that were somehow projected from the figure danced and wove their tiny ways into shapes and symbols without ever touching. Upon recollection the next day the Secretary concluded it was almost like the white glow left on your eyes after peering at an extremely bright light. He could not truly focus and look at the shapes before him, but he unmistakably knew they were there. But they were only the supporting act to the monologue the alien had given him.

“Our group, or organisation, is similar to your own. While you collect the voices of countries to one, we collect the voices of universes. When a galactic or inter-galactic civilisation breaks the barrier into the interdimensional plane between the universes, we invite them into our group. From there, they are able to act much as a member country does in your group. Commune and communicate about international or interdimensional matters.”

From this point on, the secretary wrote, the colourful illusions become much more vivid, and brighter and dark hues became more polarised. Certain parts of his report were almost beautifully poetic, and gave historians years later light chuckles, especially given the Under-Secretaries past.

“However there is one core rule by which our group abides. Unless in the direst circumstance, we do not interfere with civilisations that have yet to break the interdimensional barrier. We do not uplift, advise, guide, or in any way influence these civilisations until they break the barrier by their own fruition. This is why we were so reluctant to interact with your society, and enter your universe such as we have.”

At this point the Secretary noticed that he actually had a question he personally wanted answering, instead of a question he was sure someone else would much rather ask.

“What direst circumstance do you refer too?”

The metal man did not reply for a second. When he did, the optical show only intensified.

“There exists another group. Very, very similar to ours. They are much younger, but have grown in strength worryingly quickly. They follow a different path than ours. They believe that is their group’s duty to enter universes, seek out intelligent life, enrich them technologically, and then bring them into their organisation. It is an unstable and violent path, and while we race to stop their incursions, ultimately they are succeeding. They have trivialised the art of interdimensional travel. They throw around tools and weapons they barely understand and hardly respect, in a vain attempt to overshadow us. We have fought them in interdimensional space, and across thousands of galaxies in hundreds of universes. And that is what brings us here.”

In an alarming move, the figure stood and begun to walk out of the room, the light show twinkling out of existence. The rest of the monologue was made exclusively to the Secretary as the alien ignored the hordes of people and questions it passed as it walked through the set of offices and finally out of the front door. The Secretary was forced to sprint out of his office, and dart through the crowd of cameras and experts that followed the being. He missed half of what was said, only catching odd phrases like “short of time” and “due in Andromeda”. Pushing the throng aside, he jogged after the brisk walk of the metal man. It was only when they had rushed out of the building with the immense crowd in pursuit that the figure stopped. Overhead, the chrome sphere manoeuvred. As it found itself directly above the visitor, the surface dilated and melted, thrusting a thin cord downwards.

As if pushed by a great gust of wind, the crowd that echoed around the secretary was driven backwards. A circle of force kept the mob at bay, as the Secretary became aware it was just him and the alien again. His sense of panic reached its peak.

“Must you go?” He said with a hint of mania in his voice. “My superior will arrive in a matter of hours, and I’m sure he can handle-“

“Yes I must.” Cut in the foreigner. “Our transportation path must be masked.” The chrome cord that extended downward reached the figure, and he grasped it firmly. The two materials fused together, and slowly the entire arm became one with the cord. But it didn’t stop the speech.

“In a matter of days the rival organisation I described will arrive on your planet. They will entice you into their group. They will not cease to flatter and impress you, promising you and your species all manner of wonders. They shall do a much better job of convincing you to join them then I will convincing you not too. In fact, we welcome you to make your own decision. As I said, we are founded on the idea that younger civilisations make their own decisions, and not bend to the will of us older ones.”

The Secretary became aware that more and more of the humanoid shape was fusing with the extended cord. Within seconds he would be left talking to nothing, as the lower sections begun to retreat upwards. Terrifyingly aware of time slipping through his fingers, he blurted out one final question.

“Then why? Why did you come visit us, why warn us? If you want us to make our own decision, then why talk to us at all?”

The humanoid figure was gone now, only a large chrome droplet stood in front of him. As it accelerated upwards towards the greater sphere, one final sentence was heard not just by the Secretary, but everyone present, as the visitor’s voice suddenly boomed across the courtyard.

“We come with a warning because unlike your impending guests, we have not employed our full might. We intend to win this petty conflict and returned existence to a peaceful state. If you choose to side with the upstart barbarians, we will be forced to do nothing short of utterly annihilate you. So please, side with caution.”

And with that, the sphere was perfect again. Then a loud crack, and it was gone.

The crowd rushed in towards the Secretary, each question drowning out another. But the Secretary didn’t head a single word. His eyes were locked on the sky, where the ship had been. He had a lot to think about.