III - The Observers
A pair of pairs of eyes watched an unwieldy structure settle onto the moon. They were watching from afar. They were viewing galactically sub-standard micro-surveilance, triggered by the tremors on the surface of the moon. They had been from a deep, dark sleep for any signs of progress from their ancient former home.
“Thirty thousand years” mused one checking their watch, in the Ministry of Old Jardinian Progress outpost floating in a dark belt on the edge of the solar system. Neither had been thrilled at taking this position, away from the Alovian Ascendancy at Bahas Prime, itself thousands of light-years away from this now-backwater.
“Goodness me, what took them so long. We (the long we) gave them everything they needed!”
“And would you look at this thing. They call that a moon vehicle?” The first tittered “No style, they’re making us look bad. We’ll be called galactic upstarts again. What will the Conservitorium think. We will be laughed out of the Congress!”
Both eagerly expected further contact from earth. They would be disappointed. The Alovian Ascendacy yet waited, patient, but confused.
Unknown to the Alovians, the coincidentally named, and astonishingly ancient Inter-Star Confederacy of the Transcendent Silence observed impartially, and quietly, though admittedly thoroughly entertained.
They, one of the more advanced, ancient species who had been watching with interest the whole time wondered when the earthers (mark two) finally came to join the galaxy at large, would they have found the island with it’s bounty of wisdom and knowledge, or would they have mostly gone their own way with a touch of help from the far-flung expatriots of Old Jardinian? The growing haze surrounding the earth was frustratingly obstructing their supposedly advanced surveillance technology. Blast. During the climax too. What good entertainment it had been.
All would be laid clear, when on first contact, the earthers version 2.0 either recognized the Alovian story or else, were quite confused that the stars welcomed them as old friends.
Nobody wanted to live in deep sleep endless. Many Alovian surveyors would come and go, before the descendants apparent of Old Jardinian would finally endeavor to take their rightful place among the stars. The Alovian Ascendancy would be waiting, expecting a good excuse. And, unbeknownst to them, the elder members of galactic civilization would be waiting also - with interstellar popcorn ready.