“If you are not a lucky person – you’d better get some skills.”
I suddenly appreciated this aphorism praising the advancement of knowledge as I rushed down the runway. I had just realized that, having failed to check the schedule, I was about to miss the last kicker-ship and now risked spending the night on the tiny planet known only as H.235.
This was strictly forbidden by travel rules. H.235 was one of the infamous “black holes” rarely visited by tourists. There were rumors about strange forms of nightlife on the planet. No, this was not related to sex, but to unions of magicians, the legendary “global mind”, and disappearing travelers. I tried to flag down a couple of H’sters, but they did not understand English.
They immediately threw many extremely strange and incomprehensible words at me, and then moved on when my face showed no understanding. I had always suspected that the people here spoke a different language, but I never expected it to go this far.
The street was now empty except for an old man coming my way. My memory struggled to find the right words, and a single phrase came out: “Shprechen sie Deutch?” This was the sole gem in my collection of foreign language knowledge.
The old man stopped and smiled while taking out his cell phone. My first thought was, “He is calling the police!” Then the second, “He is calling a gang!” The man spoke the strange language into the phone, repeating a word that sounded almost, but not quite, completely unlike the word ‘Instructions’. Suddenly, he handed the phone to me.
A voice from the phone spoke clear English. “This is the Common Brain help line. You are granted a guest level of permission to ask any question, except those related to H.235 security. Your question will be translated into our language. Please end your question with the words ‘exit and translate’.”
I started asking rapid-fire questions. The phone worked like magic.
After the first question, the voice from the phone took a leading role. It navigated me through a question and answer session, helping me express my needs in system-specific terms. At the end of the session, the phone commanded: “Mister Ben, please pass the phone to the answering party.”
The old man, whose name turned out to be Paul, played the role of the answering party. He listened to the phone’s version of my queries, and made strange sounds that came to me via the phone in perfect English. At the end of the call, Paul used his phone as a camera to photograph my smiling face.
The voice from the phone explained that I had missed the regular night shuttle, but could still make the special shuttle reserved just for such occasions. My picture was in the system now to allow me past the auto flight attendant. I was provided with precise directions over the phone, and at one point, a map was even displayed on the phone’s screen.
I felt so happy I even tried to ask a couple of extra questions, but the only answer I received was “Questions about religion or sex cannot be answered, as they are related to H.235 security.”
While on the way home in the shuttle, I thought about the Common Brain. Was it a high-tech company, or a psychic organization? Or maybe both would be needed to help people understand each other?
Where was the catch? What technology was used? Could the old man have been a magician? I had heard the rumor that some magicians had access to a legendary “global mind”. Why was there a special flight just for me? And why was this flight taking so long? My eyes closed as a white fog slowly surrounded me.