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Red Tesla Roadster Found By Aliens | William Thomas Online | William Thomas

Red Tesla Roadster Found By Aliens





Lucas-Searching-For-The-Way





RED TESLA ROADSTER 


FOUND BY INTERSTELLAR PATROL

 


TRANSLATED FROM THE ARCTURAN HIGH LANGUAGE

 

By Algorithm 23-r 08]jfds/OI

 

Stardate: SOL 32897

 

 

Recovered & Retranslated 


by William Thomas



space-people-are-here


From the transcribed log of the M-3 Sector patrol vessel, N]2FUL JV, whose three crewmembers amuse themselves by mimicking faint bursts of radio and TV transmissions picked up while surveying a pair of mysterious bright spots in a crater on the dwarf planet Ceres, just 270 million km from Earth. 

 

By then, they were nearly 216 trillion Earth miles from their home colony, REDACTED in the ancient Arcturus Stream. Understandably, they were feeling homesick.

 

Ceres-Occator-Crater-jpl-nasa

Their blues were dispersed by a discovery that threatened to REDACTED! Unlike NASA’s low-tech DAWN mission, further probes from this Arcturan patrol craft found recent and disturbing evidence of another 130 REDACTED preparing to REDACTED.

 

Since making these staggering discoveries, the crew has whimsically renamed their ship, Shithole Country based on repeated signals projected from an increasingly troubled and troublesome nation onboard a mostly watery world its talking-ape inhabitants perversely call, ‘Earth’.

 

Now, 10 Sols later, just when the crew fear that despite authorized stimulants they will go ‘batshit crazy' from the never-ending crawl of infinite interstellar sameness






"Yo people,” executive officer, Salamba345 ('Salaam-ba’) sings out. “I have a quantum search contact. Small target dead ahead. Smooth regular contours suggest ... holy toodles... manufactured object!"

 

Let’s make a run for it! the navigator subvocally screams.

 

“Range?" captain S;lmar (‘Schla-mar') calmly comes back.

 

“Too close!” the navigator croaks. “Captain, we are carrying too much Delta V!”

 

“Keep your ship together, Zenorxct! ('Zen-orx-chit!’).”

 

“Looks... looks like an open capsule of some kind," updates the always dependable Salamba345.

 

Open capsule?

 

"Check again. That makes no sense."

 

Have you ever noticed that for all their mathematical precision, the most exotic things we encounter out here never make sense? the executive officer suggests without speaking.


Saturn


“Navigator. What’s our position?” barks S;lmar like that pirate captain in Black Sails. 

 

Zenorxct! is over the ball: “Right Ascension: 18h 26m 51.8s, Skip’. Declination is -22° 24' 58.0."

 

“Terrific,” the captain calculates. “We’ve just run into Saturn.”

 

“It’s cool,” Zenorxct! insists. “We’re going to miss the Planet of the Five Veils by at least 12 million klicks.”

 

“Which puts us inside that weird Phoebe Ring. Even at sub-light velocities, how long do you think this buckboard is going to last traversing more than a million kilometers of dust, gravel, snow, ice, rocks and random boulders?”

 

“Not excessively long,” Zenorxct! allows.

 

“You THINK? Plot an evasive course immediately. Or I swear to Mother Antares you will be hand-peeling you-know-what for two Sols.”

 

Zenorxct!’s stricken expression shows he knows exactly what that what is. 


Salamba345 says quietly, audibly: “Stand by... We are coming into visual range, kimosabe."

 

"Throw it up on the big Panasonic, Tonto."

 

"I wish you'd stop quoting those alien broadcasts. I have no clue what you're talking about," Zenorxct! whines.

 

"That's okay,” S;lmar says. “Neither do I."

 

"I hopped right into that."

 

"You did."

 

 


Arcturus-unilibrium.net


The bridge-spanning overhead holoscreen switches from an achingly nostalgic holo-image of their home colony to…

 

"HOLY CARUMBA! WHAT IS THAT THING?”

 

 

[INSERT 2D PUBLICITY PHOTOS – LIVE FEED BLOCKED BY ARCTURUS COMMAND]

 


Riding-high-AFP:Getty



Revolving slowly end-over-end, a sleek bright red form… Its forward view portal is crazed from micrometeorite hits; its upholstery, four rubber ‘tires’ and flickering dashboard screens frayed and pitted from pitiless cosmic radiation…

 

“Log this discovery as 'Derelict',” S;lmar commands. “Belay that. We’ve seen how humans serve and revere their four-wheel conveyances. This could be a religious icon. Reclassify: 'Preowned Cult Object'.”     

 

Zenorxct! (nervously), “Should we destroy it?"

 

"We aren't authorized,” S;lmar says. “It looks harmless. And it could be valuable. There’s no alien artefact like this anywhere on record. Exec, any electromagnetics?”

 

“That’s a big negatory, cap. This Unknown Freaking Object is not radiating on any frequency. But it does appear to be partially sentient.”

 

“How so, daddyo?” her captain wheezes after taking a big hit of IHR.

 

“It's got a ton of circuitry for its size."’

 

"I don't know, boss. There's something about that thing that gives me the heebie-jeebies," Zenorxct! breaks in.

 

"My kid will love it. Let's take it onboard,” S;lmar orders. “Punch in an intercept, exec. Downshift into reverse to match velocities at 11km/second. Scan this sucker with everything we've got short of witchcraft – whatever that is. And prepare to reel it in."

 

"Do you think that's wise?" Zenorxct! wrings his grippers.

 

Arcturan-intersteller-patrol-vessel

"And leave the only alien artifact ever discovered this far out for some salvers to come along and grapple? Didn’t you watch Serenity? I mean the series."

 

"Skipper, all scans across all spectrums complete and collated,” Salamba345 calls out. “Object appears to be unarmed and nearly inert."

 

"What is this 'nearly’?"

 

“Some of its circuitry is still functioning, mon capitaine."

 

"Auto-grapple, secure and isolate in the cargo bay. I'm going up there now. You and Zenorxct! can fight over the con. Just don’t touch anything!”

 

“Joke,” says Salamba345. “Was that a… a… joke?”

 

“Rig for electromagnetic blackout. Zenorxct!, get us out of this junkyard and head for the closest jump point.”

 

“You got it, skipper.” 

 

The exec takes another nip of her own Instant Happiness Reset ration. "Yippie ki yi,” she pipes up. “Twitter twatter some selfies from that good ol' cargo bay, why doncha?"

 

“Knock it off, Number One.” The captain's right eye-stalk rotates: “Zenorxct!, on fourth-to-the-third-power consideration, come with me."

 



Passage 1 by Penemenn edited-1



AUDIO FEED CONTINUES…

[feet shuffling along passageways, hiss of elevator doors open-shut-open… more footsteps… stop… lever being pulled from one detent into another… inner cargo bay hatch swinging open, sharp intakes of breath...]

 

“Captain, what do you make of it?"

 

“Its definitely some sort of vehicle,” S;lmar confirms. "For humans. Remember the last feeds we picked up?”

 

“You mean like Leave It To Butthead and Earth Vs. The Flying Saucers? This object has four recognizable ‘wheels’ for surface mobility. But it doesn’t look anything like those old jalopies. It doesn’t even have tailpipes!”

 

“I think you're supposed to sit inside it,” S;lmar says. “Look. There’s some sort of creature at the controls. It looks dead."

 

“I’m not getting any biometric readings. Whatever it is, that pilot is deader than Phobos,” pronounces the exec, who’s snuck into the bay to check out the alien craft.

 

“Navigator. What about its genetic origins?”

 

“What the...” Zenorxct! jumps back, only to rebound off the shapely Salamba345, who’s quietly come up behind him to stare over one of his shoulders.

 

“Watch it, buster!” she hisses. “I could have you spaced for unwanted physical contact.”

 

“Get over it, Sal,” Zenorxct! retorts. “It’s not like we never…”

 

Looking past her clumsy crewmate, Salamba345 takes on his startlement: “Jumpin’ Proctologist! It’s inorganic. This pilot is some kind of plastic.”

 

Plastic?” S;lmar queries.

 

“Dat is vat I am scannink, comrade.”

 

“What the heck is plastic?”

 

“Seamless moldable lightweight polymer material,” Salamba345 switches back to serious exec mode. “Smooth as a tot’s tokus. It appears to be made up of carbon-to-carbon and carbon-hydrogen bombs…”

 

The team falls completely silent.

 

“Correction,” the usually dependable Salamba345 hastily updates. “'Bonds'. Carbon-hydrogen bonds. English is such a bitch.”


“So, an intelligent ‘droid of some sort,” S’lmar guesses. “Wearing red sneakers and a… cloth space suit?”

 

Zenorxct! looks at his screen, raps it sharply with his longest digit, peers again. “Nothin’ there, babe. The pilot doesn’t appear to have anything in its head. Which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s not human. The name patch on the suit says… (zooming in) ‘STARMAN’.”

 

“What’s that sign on the control panel?” the executive officer wonders.

 


Don't-Panic-tesla- AFP:Getty



“It says, ‘Don’t Panic’,” S;lmar translates. “Bad advice. This astronaut would have been better advised to 'Panic Now And Avoid The Rush'. Where's the life support? Where's the top? The cockpit canopy? Even for a lobotomized robot, it's stark stupid foolishness to sit completely exposed to a blistering cosmic slipstream for… exec, have you done a back-trace on this UFO?”

 

“Got it right here, boss. Whatever that thing is, it definitely came from Earth. I’m guessing it was boosted onto its initial trajectory by an archaic, ozone-shredding reaction vehicle about two Terran years ago.”

 

“That must have been one big-ass rocket!” comments Shithole Country’s captain.

 

Through the bay’s forward portal, a boulder the size of a small asteroid appears out of genuine nowhere. It tumbles lazily toward the three goggle-eyed astronauts before whisking past, so blurred by velocity the exec isn’t sure what she saw. But the proximity alarms are convincing.

 

“WHERE’S THAT EVASIVE COURSE?” S;lmar roars. 

 

Zenorxct! answers reflexively: “Take the next right.”

 

“Turn right? What do you mean, TURN RIGHT? You see any roads around here?”

 

“Sorry. We should come to heading 479.35 Local P without delay.”

 

SPLAT!!! A giant slushball plasters the hull somewhere aft. “Ouch!” says the ship.

 

“We’re good,” Zenorxct! says too quickly in a voice that suggests otherwise. “At this insane velocity, we’ll soon be…”


He holds hard as Shithole Country heels sharply on automatic evasive, first one way, then the reverse. “I say, captain old chap. Pardon my paranoia, but we aren’t turning."

 

“The heading you gave me is the reciprocal of this mysterious object. There might be more. I am not bearing away.”

 

“Captain Ahab,” Salamba345 interjects. “Remember him? How did his obsession work out?”

 

“Cool your jest,” the captain orders. “Jets.”

“This is nuts!” Zenorxct! can’t stop himself. “We’ll all be killed beyond repair.”

 

Salamba345 looks up. “Someone better steer. I am returning to the con to set our new course."

 

“We have all died for nothing!" Zenorxct! says to her back. “You couldn’t put this thing on eBay. It's falling to bits. Cosmic radiation has torn those carbon bonds apart. I wouldn’t have given it half-a-Terran year. And you’re saying it’s been out here eating hard vac for… two?”


“ENOUGH ALREADY!” bellows the captain.

 

Instant silence.

 

“This object is doing fine. Considering. It appears to be protected by multiple layers of hard wax,” S;lmar continues more reasonably. “And I’ll bet you the alloy frame and internal parts will still be recognisable in another million Earth years. Know what, guys?

 

(a beat to shamelessly build suspense…)

 

“We’ve found ourselves a Marie Celeste – a ghost ship lost in space. Remember when one of our probes landed in the ocean nearby that antique sailboat and everybody jumped overboard and no one could figure out what happened?”

 

 

Falcon-Heavy-boosters-land-8-minutes-after-launch


 

Zenorxct is too busy yanking on the seated figure to acknowledge this notion.

 

“… hey, better not..."

 

"I’m just making us some room, cap'. Oooph! Have a nice trip, dude! Don’t forget to write.”

 

“Don’t you think…”

 

“Get in. This thing is a total trip! Satellite navigation out past Pluto. And a Galactic Positioning System with a course laid in to... whoa, Nelly! Mars!"

 

“Well, it missed by a bunch. The Red Planet is more than a billion km in our wake,” Salamba345 comments from the bridge. “At that time, Earth was another 200 million km beyond Mars. Never mind those crazy distances. How did this fantastic plastic ever make it through the asteroid belt?”

 

Standing beside the UFO, S;lmar looks down at the seated Zenorxct! who’s already fiddling with the unfamiliar controls. “So can you make it go?"

 

"I’m trying to figure out what powers this thing. Scanner shows hundreds of miniature electron storage units wired in series."

 

“How do we put more electrons into those thingies to make it work?"

 

"That remains a profound mystery. There is no onboard reactor, no sun-gathering antennae. Perhaps it runs on some form of magic."

 

(door slam – S;lmar’s voice:)

 

"I'm in. Make it go."

 

“Suck it up and hold onto your heads. I'm just gonna start pushing things until..."

 

(a loud melodic sound, later identified by Earthologists as a 'music sting' is followed by three simultaneous gasps and the hearty, confident voice of a true Mars believer with a dash of South African gambler:)

 


Elon-Musk-views-red-tesla-liftoff

HELLO AND WELCOME, ALL YOU SPACE ALIENS OUT THERE! I KNEW YOU'D COME ALONG. THIS IS ELON MUSK. YOU HAVE FOUND MY OWN CHERRY RED TESLA ROADSTER. I CONCEIVED AND BUILT THIS CAR AND MANY MORE LIKE IT. CAN YOU SAY, ‘CA-RR... CA-RR'?

 

THE BATTERIES ARE FULLY CHARGED AND THE ONBOARD COLLISION AVOIDANCE SYSTEM IS ACTIVATED. HAVE FUN!!! BECAUSE IF WE'RE NOT HAVING FUN, WE'RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT, RIGHT?"

 

The space travelers look at each other.

 

"S;lmar, did that human just call us 'space aliens'? Earthlings are the aliens? We live out here."

 

“THE MOTOR IS ON. PRESS THE TALL PEDAL TO GO AND THE HORIZONTAL PEDAL TO STOP. OR PRESS ‘ENGAGE’ ON THE TOUCH SCREEN AND THE CAR WILL DRIVE ITSELF. SIMPLY PROGRAM YOUR DESTINATION INTO THE GPS. THE SCROLLING MAP ALSO SHOWS THE NEAREST RECHARGING STATIONS. THERE MAY NOT BE ONE IN YOUR AREA YET. YOU WANT ONE SENT OUT, LET ME KNOW.”

 

“Can you find the ‘pedals’?” S;lmar says somewhat anxiously. She would rather be driving.

 

“Yeah. I think. Right he…”

 

The vehicle leaps ahead, shoving the Arcturans deep into the twin padded seats. Massive torque delivered directly to the wheels with negligible heat and friction loss tends to do this.

 

“WHOA!” S;lmar and Zenorxct! chorus together, before reverting to gutter Arcturan: “#URFEK*YE!!!”

 

Zenorxct! groans and covers his stalks.

 

One-meter from smashing headlong into the ship’s plexisteel bulkhead, the Tesla comes to a smooth stop.

 

“Nice going, Zenorxct!. You saved us from a bad crash.”

 

“No. I didn’t,” the navigator blurts. “The machine stopped itself.”

 

“So it is alive!”

 

“Quiet, too. You gotta wonder why a civilization advanced enough to build something like this and launch it on a top-down intergalactic tour would want to destroy itself with runaway warming and atomic war.”

 

“Come on, Zenorxct!! This always happens when intelligent beings become more clever than wise.”

 



Arcturus-10:07:2013-newforestobservatory.com



Back on the command bridge, Zenorxct! appraises his shipmates. “We should restore this device to original specs. Make it a memorial to Earth. RIP.”

 

“Rip?”

 

“Rest In Pieces.”

 

“Oh,” the exec says.

 

“Belay the memorial. Earth hasn’t self-destructed yet. There’s still a teensy chance intelligent life will become conscious,” S;lmar insists. “In time."

 



Humpback hunts krill, Wilhelmina Bay, Antarctica. ‘Creeping expansion of industrial fishing is targeting the one species on which practically every animal in the Antarctic relies- krill.’ - Charles Littnam:WWF:EPA



Whales and dolphins, signs Salamba345. Crows and chimps and grandfather cedars, adds a silent Zenorxct!. Both crew look at their captain.  


“Of course I meant intelligent human life,” she quickly says aloud. “If that’s not an oxen moron. Come on. I want to take this baby home and drive it!

 

“But, S;lmar, you don’t know how,” worries Salamba345.

 

“I can learn by observing how this Tesla AI drives itself.”

 

“Do you think it has anti-grav or maglev?” Zenorxct! asks.

 

“It’s not that advanced. Though a bipedal, necktie-wearing ape might think so. Both of you get busy inputting the molecular makeup of ‘carbon plastic’ into our fabrication bot. I want to begin the restoration right away.”

 

“I’m not sure we can match the color,” Salamba345 says doubtfully.

 

“Not acceptable. Isn’t our home star the ‘Gateway to Higher Realms’? By the time we get back, I want this… carr-carr... to look like it just came off the showroom floor.”

 

“What’s a showroom floor?” Zenorxct! and Salamba345 ask together.

 

“I’m not sure,” S;lmar admits. “Some kind of sacred display area I should think, where anyone wishing to worship or mate with a Tesla can view it while it sleeps.”

 

“Maybe we should return it,” the exec suggests.

 

“Heck no!” the captain comes back. “I found it. I’m keeping it. This carr-carr is mine!”

 



Red-tesla-displayed-by-Arcturans-SpaceX








starman-rocket-SpaceX

 HOME PLANET 




PHOTO CREDITS (in order of appearance)

Alien eyes                                    “Searching For The Way" by Lucas

“Earth vs. The Flying Saucers”      Columbia Pictures

Ceres, Occator crater “light”          JPL/NASA

STARMAN                                    AFP/Getty

Arcturan patrol vessel

Saturn                                         U. of Maryland/NASA

Arcturus (seen from colony)           unilibrium.net

“Passage 1”                                  Penneman.com  

“Don’t Panic"                                AFP/Getty

Elon Musk watches Tesla liftoff       SpaceX/YouTube

Falcon Heavy boosters landing       SpaceX 

Arcturus                                      newforestobservatory.com 

Humpback, Antarctica                   Charles Littnam photo WWF/EPA

Restored red Tesla on display         SpaceX 


 发件人     William Thomas 2018