I hope you enjoyed my previous post about the mysterious synchronicity involving the band, Electric Light Orchestra. I have an important follow-up to that story, but I hardly know where to begin. Forgive me if I ramble—my neurons are still recovering from last night's unexpected voyage.
Gaga for ELO
I was surprised to discover that I really do like the music of Electric Light Orchestra, a group I'd never really thought much about before now. When the song finished playing on the radio, the DJ announced, “People are going Gaga for ELO!”
He went on to say that he’d received countless emails from listeners demanding to hear more ELO, and then he mused that space aliens were involved, and that we were no longer in control of events around us.
As soon as I arrived home, I drafted an account of the bizarre story and scheduled it for publication on The Circular Journey. But that night, as I lay my head on the pillow, I felt that I hadn't captured the full story.
The Voyage Begins
As soon as I entered the alternate dimension of the dream world, I found myself walking down a bright corridor toward an aperture-like doorway. It dilated open with a soft whoosh, and I stepped out onto the control bridge of the GMS Coastal Voyager.
The bridge display panels had shifted to emergency protocols. Warning klaxons were silent, but status panels along the walls pulsed with flashing red warning lights.
Princess Amy was seated at the command console, staring at blank viewports as if in a trance. First Officer Reason was intently focused on a cascade of symbols scrolling across the displays of his science station. Lt. Joy was studying readouts from her communications channels. No one seemed to notice me.
I crossed the deck toward Captain Amy's chair with the notion of asking, "What the hell?"—my standard opening for dream conversations that take place in United Federation Mindspace.
"It's no good, Captain," Chief Engineer Anxiety’s voice crackled across the ship’s intercom with that blend of panic and resignation that only anxiety can muster.
"None of our auxiliary power systems is responding. The aliens are pulling us into an unmapped region of foreign neural networks."
Before I could question her, Amy began to speak in a shocked monotone.
"Captain's log: Stardate 2025.314: The GMS Coastal Voyager has been intercepted by an unknown alien intelligence during what should have been routine REM cycle operations. Chief Engineer Anxiety reports all ship systems are compromised."
Losing Control
Nothing upsets Amy like the loss of control, and she suddenly began shouting. "This is a violation of the Prime Directive—wait, are WE violating the Prime Directive? Can you violate the PD against yourself? Officer Reason, check the regulations!"
"Captain," Reason interjected calmly, "we cannot violate the Prime Directive within our own neural networks."
"Well then, THEY'RE violating it!" Amy snapped, gesturing wildly at the viewscreen.
That’s when she became aware that I was on the bridge. Our eyes locked. The fury drained from her face, leaving behind an expression like that of someone who, in the middle of a passionate argument, suddenly forgot what it was all about.
"Why are you here, Ambassador?" Ambassador is what she calls me when my conscious mind shows up uninvited to the bridge.
"I was hoping you could tell me," I said.
Amy looked around as if the answer might be written on one of the control panels. The other officers looked my way, apparently expecting me to make some sort of announcement.
"We're dealing with..." Amy paused, searching for words, "...a situation right now. You shouldn't be here."
"I agree with you on that point," I said. "But I have no choice in the matter, do I? When my inner emotions are so intently focused on the same crisis, I'm pulled to the bridge whether I want to be or not--usually not."
"Perfectly correct, Ambassador."
Those words came from First Officer Reason, and then to Amy, he said, "I believe we should brief the Ambassador on recent events. His presence here suggests this situation has escalated beyond standard dream protocol parameters."
"Welcome, Ambassador," said Communications Officer Joy, managing a smile despite the obvious tension on the bridge. "I wish your visit were during more pleasant circumstances, but I'm confident we'll have everything back to normal quickly. And perhaps, when it's all sorted out, it may provide an opportunity for cultural exchange."
"Lieutenant, Joy," Amy said through gritted teeth, "they've hijacked our ship!"
"Yes, but they were very polite about it in their own way."
"Ambassador!" Chief Anxiety's voice erupted from the intercom again, "You chose a terrible time to drop by! All our power systems are offline, and I'm getting readings that suggest—actually, no, forget that. You don't want to know.
Actually, you probably SHOULD know. But then you'll panic. Then again, you're probably already panicking. Are you panicking? Because I'm panicking!"
"Chief Anxiety, focus!" Amy commanded.
First Contact
"What's this all about?" I exclaimed. "Is it Klingons? Are they active again? I mean, this doesn't sound like a Romulan tactic."
"Not Klingons," said the captain, her voice tight with frustration. After a moment's pause, she closed her eyes and demanded, "Report!"
First Officer Reason spoke with Vulcan eloquence. "Ambassador, the energy signature is unlike anything in our database. Officer Joy is attempting to process their communication protocols, but the linguistic patterns are... highly irregular, even fascinating.”
"Fascinating," Amy repeated, but not with any real chirpiness.
"Irregular how?" I asked.
Lt. Joy answered, "They appear to be using cultural references and idiomatic expressions from multiple Earth time periods simultaneously. It's as if they learned our language from television sitcoms rather than diplomatic channels."
"Do we have any ideas at all?" I asked, moving closer to the main viewscreen.
After a moment of silence, Amy finally spoke. "On screen!" she barked with a voice filled with exasperation. "We have no way of knowing if this is what they actually want or if it's a catastrophically faulty translation..."
The words on the display were a jumble of silly pop culture references that required more interpretation than translation.
"As best we can determine, they want to place a small group of their officers on our ship for..." she took a breath, "...for a bit of rest and relaxation on Earth. At a nightspot they've apparently heard about through some cosmic grapevine. It's supposedly located in the Wudang Mountains of central China."
She looked at me with an expression that combined disbelief, exhaustion, and the faint hope that I might have some related experience in the external world.
"The establishment is called Klang Ho's Klap Trap. Ever heard of it?"
"I'm sorry," I said, "did you say Klang Ho's KLAP TRAP?"
"That's what the translator says," responded Lt. Joy.
"And they want... shore leave?"
"For 'rest and relaxation,' according to their request, which they've submitted in triplicate. Very bureaucratic, these aliens."
Back to Reality?
Not only had I not heard of Klang Ho's Klap Trap—a name that sounded like an avant-garde jazz club—but the sheer shock of hearing Princess Amy mention it in my dream jolted me awake with the force of a photon torpedo to the consciousness.
I sat bolt upright in bed, my heart racing, trying to reconcile the image of alien beings demanding that Sirius XM’s disk jockey play ‘More ELO.’
Captain's Log, Supplemental:
The Ambassador has returned to his waking state, terminating the dream sequence as abruptly as a warp core breach. The GMS Coastal Voyager has restored primary systems and returned to stable orbit in familiar mindspace. Communication with Mindfleet headquarters has been re-established.
Chief Anxiety reports that all systems have returned to a normal functional state. Lieutenant Joy has recorded the episode in her formal report as "a character-building experience." First Officer Reason admits the encounter defies logical interpretation.
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