http://www.sff.net/people/tbisson/meat.html
http://www.sff.net/people/tbisson/index.htp
Larry
At 05:06 PM 01/21/1999 CST6CDT,3,-, Ken Cope wrote:
>I can't vouch for whether or not the reprint that reached me was
>authorized by Mr. Bisson, but my guess is that a large percentage
>of those who read this here bought that issue of OMNI...
>
>---------- Forwarded message ----------
>The author is Terry Bisson, it originally appeared in OMNI Magazine,
>it was nominated
>for a Nebula, and it is reprinted here by permission of Mr. Bisson.
>------------------------------------------------
>
>Imagine if you will... the leader of the fifth invader force
>speaking to the commander in chief...
>"They're made out of meat."
>"Meat?"
>"Meat. They're made out of meat."
>"Meat?"
>"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts
>of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all
>the way through. They're completely meat."
>"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to
>the stars."
>"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from
>them. The signals come from machines."
>"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."
>"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat
>made the machines."
>"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me
>to believe in sentient meat."
>"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only
>sentient race in the sector and they're made out of meat."
>"Maybe they're like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based
>intelligence that goes through a meat stage."
>"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for
>several of their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you
>have any idea the life span of meat?"
>"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the
>Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."
>"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the
>Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way
>through."
>"No brain?"
>"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made
>out of meat!"
>"So... what does the thinking?"
>"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking.
>The meat."
>"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"
>"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat.
>The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"
>"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."
>"Finally, Yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they've been
>trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."
>"So what does the meat have in mind?"
>"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore
>the universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information.
>The usual."
>"We're supposed to talk to meat?"
>"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio.
>'Hello. Anyone out there? Anyone home?' That sort of thing."
>"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"
>"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."
>"I thought you just told me they used radio."
>"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You
>know how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by
>flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting
>air through their meat."
>"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do
>you advise?"
>"Officially or unofficially?"
>"Both."
>"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and
>all sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without
>prejudice, fear, or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase
>the records and forget the whole thing."
>"I was hoping you would say that."
>"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make
>contact with meat?"
>"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say?" `Hello, meat.
>How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we
>dealing with here?"
>"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat
>containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they only
>travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and
>makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim.
>Infinitesimal, in fact."
>"So we just pretend there's no one home in the universe."
>"That's it."
>"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the
>ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed?
>You're sure they won't remember?"
>"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their
>heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to
>them."
>"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be
>meat's dream."
>"And we can mark this sector unoccupied."
>"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any
>others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"
>"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a
>class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations
>ago, wants to be friendly again."
>"They always come around."
>"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the
>universe would be if one were all alone."
>
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