Min Yoon

Sovereign

The expeditionary ship, Sumeria, was the pride and joy of the United Nation’s space force. It was the most advanced ship built to date. It was bigger than the moon of Earth,its engines were immaculate, its interior system exquisite. The ship’s advanced automated hydroponics and recycling systems could theoretically sustain the ship’s inhabitants for hundreds of years. Much fanfare was played when the ship finally lifted off from its launch point at Alpha Centauri. It was said that this ship ran on pure hope and human ingenuity.

Indeed, its inhabitants were the epitome of hope and ingenuity. People from all professions, from the sciences to the humanities all gathered on this ship in hopes to spread human civilization further into the unknown reaches of space.

Those hopes and dreams died however, when the Sumeria’shyperdrive malfunctioned in the middle of one of its many jumps into unexplored space. Where first she found her pristine hull facing an ocean of stars, she now found herself in a starless void. To make things worse, much of her automated functions were halted in the incident. The Sumeriawas stranded at the edge of the universe.

Its hallways were lit only by the brief flashes of light that its damaged lighting units gave off. Sparks flew as disconnected cables jolted by the transient surges of energy they experienced. Debris floated around aimlessly, finding contact with either each other or any other surface, simply

Despite this wreckage, some of its inhabitants still found themselves able to survive on what little supplies could be salvaged and recycled. Unfortunately, the lack of supplies created a great schism within the survivors, all of them creating their own groups and communities. They would all fight for whatever they could find. Small scale skirmishes would break out all over the ship’s sectors, and loss of life was a common occurrence. However some brave souls would weather this trial by themselves.

Such was the case for Dave Singleman. Dave Singleman was an artist, even if most of his tools were destroyed and his works now lost, he still had a goal.To preserve a vision of what he saw on this journey into the starry abyss of space. He would light up his room with a singular flashlight, powered by whatever batteries he could find, and on whatever he could find. His room was a mess of loose floor panelsand walls covered in paint. He himself was a veritable canvas of various tattoos. Many of them were commemorative, all symbolizing events in his life or the planets he’d been to. He had grown thin in in this time, as not being a part of the various groups on the ship meant that he was left with the scraps they left behind.

The hydraulics on the sliding doors of his room hissed as the slowly opened.Dave whipped around from his painting and raised his weapon, a small plasma pistol. Fortunately, it appeared that the door opened by itself due to some form of a malfunction. The door opened and closed itself, over and over again.

“Gotta move rooms…”Dave sighed as he got up and wiped the paint from his hands on his already paint smearedpants and shirt. He had in fact done this many times already. Whether it was from technical factors like this malfunctioning door, or another group of survivors had come too close to finding him, Dave would always get out at the first sign of trouble. Unfortunately, this also meant that he left whatever painting he had finished in those rooms, as taking them would require him to take time to put all of them away and he most certainly did not own a big enough bag for all of them.

The only things that he did take with him were his meager supply of paints and supplies, which all neatly fit into a small backpack.

Dave hoisted this bag onto his shoulders and started walking out the door, but not before looking back at his now former abode. Its walls were littered with paintings depicting beautiful scenery. The beautiful dark deserts of Ylgr-4whose glistening sands shined like black diamonds.The fluorescent hills of Kyrios-6, where the red grass would give off light during the night, creating hills like waves made of scarlet radiance.

“And of course, I have to start all over again,” Dave lamented as he pushed himself out of the room one last time.

Dave was careful, using only the existing light from his surroundings instead of his own flashlight to see as to not attract any unwanted attention.

As he waded through the derelict ship’s zero gravity environment, thoughts of yearning invaded his mind. Yearning home, food, safety. He wondered often, how he was still alive at this point. He had witnessed brutal murders for but a scrap of bread, or a half filled bottle of water. He was only able to survive the wrath of these brutal savages by hiding and holding his breath for minutes on end. Breathing. How was he able to breathe? Did the oxygen recycler really last this long without any maintenance? Maintenance was something the engineers did, and they all died skirmish with the gardeners. Was it the trees? Was the biosphere still functioning?

He mind wandered for what felt like hours, until he realized that he had found himself going towards a bright light. A light that was coming closer and closer from around the corner of the hallway.

Dave looked frantically for a hiding spot and found a large vent opening which he could crawl into. He held onto his belongings tightly, as to make sure they would make no noise in this hollow space. He held his breath as he watched the light get closer and closer. But he nearly choked the source of the light was finally visible.

A floating nebulous figure made of pure light. Its shape was vaguely human-like, yet had no discernable features. But its form shifted and swayed erratically, like an image struggling to project through static.

It moved, or perhaps drifted through the hallway. The debris floating around the hallway seemed to bother it not, as they seemed to simply pass through it. Dave only climbed out of the vent when he could no longer see any sign of the light.

He hurriedlypushed around through the darkness of the ruined pathways of the ship. A realization had hit his mind. His problems were no longer strictly human. A coward he might’ve been, but at least he could at least try to talk his way out of trouble. It was always about survival, but Dave could say with certainty that he knew how humans worked.

A panic began to well up in his chest. His mind raced, eyes whipping around the halls of this wreckage of a ship. The rubble could not help. The windows are only a reminder of where he was, a void. No stars would stay his fear. Dave wanted to scream, but his lungs refused to comply. His diaphragm heaved over and over again. Every cell of his being screamed at him to move faster.Faster.Faster. The winding hallways seemed to give way, and no space he found was secure enough. Not enough. It was only when he heard distant voices yelling out he stopped.

It was screaming, yelling. They were getting closer. He stood in an open hall. There were no doors. He could not escape in time. Within seconds he saw other people speeding around the corner as they flew through the ship. Dave instinctually put his hands up in front of his face as to protect himself, but no blows came to him. He watched as they went past him in a panic. It did not take long for him to realize that they were running away from something: a bright light.There was one more voice, it was a man’s yelling out for help. Dave watched as he turned the corner, but right behind him was not one, but five figures of light. The man reached his hands out towards Dave, as if pleading for any form of aid. The help would not come.

The man’s movement would come to a halt, as it appeared that one the figures had grabbed on to one of the man’s legs. It dragged him back towards them. The man begged and screamed, kicking at these lights only to find himself tangled in them further. They all gathered around him, glowing brighter and brighter, like some sort of group hug. The screaming stopped soon after. What emerged from the group was not the man, but a sixth figure of light.

They were coming for him.

Dave immediately went back the way he came. He flew past the hallways, pushed past the wreckage. He did not know how, but he could hear them, calling for him. Asking him to stay. Begging him to come back.

He did not look back, but he could see a light in the corners of his eyes. They were right behind and gaining. The room. He had to get back to his room. Dave had to get back to his room.

Each new corner he turned, each door he didn’t go through, he could see the light. It was everywhere. Leaking through the vents, the floor tiles. He could hear screams emanate and be silenced soon after.

Soon he saw the open door of his room. Some of his paintings had already started floating out of it. Dave swiftly grabbed the door’s frame and pushed himself through. Yet, the door would not close. The light would not cease its movement. It would come closer, and grow brighter. He pressed the door’s close button on its terminal over and over again, begging it for salvation. It would not respond, and the light would grow brighter.

“Come on! Close!” Dave yelled out. He stopped pressing it, and resorted to punching it. Bashing it with as much force as he could. Blood flew from his now flayed hands, as with each hit more shattered glass from the terminal would lodge itself into his hand. The light was blinding.

“Close! Please!” Dave screamed. It was then Dave remembered. He had a plasma pistol. He quickly reached into his bag and pulled it out with his bloody hand. He closed his eyes and pressed the pistol onto the terminal and fired. One flash of bright light emanated from the pistol.

When next he opened his eyes, he saw that the door had finally closed. He was safe. He threw his bag off of himself and pulled out some medical supplies. His hand was ruined, he had to bandage it. droplets of his blood floated around the room smearing his paintings with their crimson color. He looked outside his windows at the stars outside, and wondered how he could survive now, in just this room.

Stars? There were no stars in this void. Had the Sumeria somehow emerged from the darkness? Would they finally see the ocean of stars once again/ The ship’s power had somehow started again. The lights of his room came on fully. The solar array was delivering power to the ship again. He could live again. Dave could live again.

The stars grew brighter in the darkness, as if welcoming Dave and the Sumeria back into the world.

But they grew closer. And closer. A truth dawned on Dave. These were not stars, but thousands, millions of the hazy figures of light. They grew closer to the ship, their figures growing brighter, as if sensing Dave’s fears. They surrounded the Sumeria entirely with their numbers, yet they all seemed to look directly at Dave through his window.

The room had become illuminated. Dave looked behind to see that the door closing had not stopped a figure of light from coming inside. It had its arms outstretched, as if calling for an embrace.

It grew closer.

“I don’t want to die!”

It grew brighter.

“I want to live!”

The light engulfed him, taking his entire body in its arms. He felt his skin burn, his flesh melt and meld. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t.

But he did not die. What remained of Dave Singleman could feel his hunger and thirst disappear. He saw infinite worlds all at once. Planets of pure metal, verdant oceans. He could feel bliss, frustration, but they were not his own. Dave heard cries for help, for salvation. He could feel his own hunger in them. His pain in them. His fears. The light was everywhere. He could go there. Help them. He needs to help them.

Dave would bring the light to all corners of the universe. The world will be as bright as he is now. He will complete his goal, and show everyone all the wonders the world has to show. And they will show him their dreams, their thoughts, their fears. He will see everything.

Critical Reflection

Any work of science fiction can be filled to the brim with double or hidden meanings in each sentence. This is especially the case for Ursula Le Guin’s works, in this case her short story “Vaster than Empires and More Slow.” At first glance, the story is a strange tale adventure, one fraught with the dangers of alien worlds, and even more alien minds. This came off as something of a special point in the story, as Osden, the brash empath of the expedition party found that the mind that controlled the alien forest simply could not understand beings like humans who had individuality. This struck me, as someone once told me that if everyone could just talk to each other, there would no longer be any conflict. As naïve as that statement tends to be, it does have some amount of moral weight and communication does, at least mitigate some conflicts. Le Guin however asks through this story, what if the “other” is someone or something so foreign to us that understanding is impossible?

I believe that at the center of Le Guin’s story is an idea of difference as the source of all conflict. This idea, ironically is shared by the empath Osden, who after experiencing the overwhelming fear of the forest and his own crewmates reels and confesses that the reason for his aloofness is because he does not want to experience the feelings of others saying, “It isn’t pleasant, is it-the other’s fear…?” (Le Guin, 195) Despite his entire purpose being to feel the emotions of others, he finds them unpleasant. This highlights a particular distaste for the “other.” But he speaks soon after of the state of the forest which threatens them. He says that the forest was complete, that it had no enemies, no threat of invasion and no other and that it was whole. The crew members were made up of the outcasts of their societies, therefore individualistic to a fault, found different from any other people. They have then stumbled upon an alien “society” which had no such thing exist. To the forest, they could very well be the most foreign and eldritch thing it could have ever seen, incapable of comprehending the concept of their existence. It could be very well akin to H.P. Lovecraft’s concept of Cthulu, where humans, upon witnessing this cosmic being, go insane from trying to comprehend its existence. Then, like the Medusa of Greek mythology the best way to steel oneself from the influence of such an incomprehensible being would be to simply turn away, avoiding any contact with it. Osden actually does something akin to this. Ian Watson in his article “The Forest as Metaphor for Mind: "The Word for World is Forest" and "Vaster than Empires and More Slow" comments on this, saying that “His only psychological defence against the flood of feelings from others, that threaten to swamp his own personality, is to reject these others, and then masochistically thrive on his own rejection by others which this provokes. Thus rejection becomes his salvation.” (Watson) In reading this, a realization came to me. An individual’s reaction to hostility is to hold on to its individuality, as Osden has. However, the forest immediate defense isn’t shown, the only way for the Osden to calm the forest down is to surrender to the forest, connecting with it and becoming a part of its network. Therefore, it can be seen that the forest’s defense would be something akin to assimilation.

Adding on to this, idea of assimilation, Osden speaks of the forest as “One big green thought” and compares the forest to a network of unconscious processes, like a human body. And indeed, the various plants that make up the forest are very much akin to the cells that make up the body, unconscious, and unfeeling, simply a part of the collective that is our bodies. Imagine then, the crew of the Gum as a body. It would be a body of cells so different, so disorganized, that it could be seen as nothing more than an abomination. Presumably, that is the impression that the forest got when it saw the crew of the Gum. But Osden is the only part of the crew that is anything remotely relatable to the forest, having the ability to sense and feel like the plants that make up the forest. Thus, Osden is the one to ultimately become part of the forest, while the crew, in order to protect themselves, leaves. This brings to mind Eduardo Kohn’s idea of thought and how it relates to the perception of being alive. Kohn’s main idea for his chapter titled “The Living Thought,” is that, “all living things, and not just humans, think,” and that, “all thoughts are alive.” Thus, in Kohn’s view, the forest, a collective conscious with thought, must be alive. But is Osden, as a part of this collective still considered alive? Kohn asks the same question and answers it by saying “we, in short, are not the only kinds of we,” (Kohn, 72) Thus I chose to explore this idea of the other “we”by having the character of Dave Singleman become part of this collective of light. The crew of the Gum as individuals, hold on to what make them special as people, whereas Osden is the one who changes and becomes a part of a bigger whole. I want to bring that into a conversation with what makes a human, a human. Or rather, how a sense of identity would play into assimilation.

Works Cited

Kohn, Eduardo. How Forests Think: Toward an Anthropology beyond the Human. University of California Press, 2015.

Eduardo Kohn in his book goes into the detail of how entire forests could be thought of as minds. This concept is thoroughly explored in the chapter “The Living Thought” where he develops the claim that all living beings think in some form. Thus, this category of “thinking beings” must be extended to trees and the forests that make them up. This is coupled with the idea of what it means to be alive. This brings up many questions, such as, if you cease to think, or if your thoughts change so drastically, could one still be considered themselves? This book is an excellent thought provoker for anyone looking for deeper ideas when exploring what it means to think, and what it means to be human/a living being. Likewise, I want explore that in my plot where the aliens, in an attempt to save humans, turn them into one of their own, losing their humanity in the process and making the other humans think that the aliens are here to kill them.

Le Guin, Ursula. Vaster Than Empires and More Slow Avon Books, 1971.

Le Guin’s story is follows the crew of the Gum as they go off on an expedition looking for uncharted planets. The crew itself is a mess of extremely individualistic characters each with their own defining trait. This is a source of much conflict in the story, until they land on a forested planet which, to the surprise of Osden, the cold empath, has its own thoughts. The only way the crew get out without losing their minds is by sacrificing Osden to forest to quell its anxieties and fears. Le Guin’s story has many themes, but one of its most prominent themes is the conflict between the individual and the collective. Osden himself, despite being an empath, finds other people distasteful and does his best to get away from them at all times. Thus, I used Le Guin’s story and theme as the basis of my own short story, and twist it.

Watson, Ian. “Science Fiction Studies.” Ian Watson- The Forest as Metaphor for Mind: "The Word for World Is Forest" and "Vaster Than Empires and More Slow", https://www.depauw.edu/sfs/backissues/7/watson7art.htm.

In this article, Ian Watson goes into analyzing the many forest metaphors that Ursula Le Guin uses in her science fiction stories. He focuses mainly of course, the stories mentioned in the title, “The Word for World is Forest,” and “Vaster Than Empires and More Slow.” He goes into strict detail when looking into how these forest function as minds and come to the conclusion that they are, in essence, a collective consciousness. This is a great boon to the reader who seeks greater insights on the dynamics of Le Guin’s forest stories. I plan on taking this concept of individuality versus a collective and making a core point of my short story. As the humans of my story take certain actions in order to preserve their individuality.