– Feeling better? – I do.- Your wound is almost healed. You passed away after we found out you were not dead…but that’s OK. – I smile. My friend smiles also. I still didn’t figure out if he’s one of the good or the bad guys. I suppose I need to postpone the issue. He hands me a silver ball. – Do you want to connect? I know your interfaces are fried, but we have something better. We call it “the magic ball”: it reads your thoughts and translate you to the network. – I blink, to express my surprise. I didn’t try to speak yet. – Yes, you know so little about us…but I think now all of that doesn’t matter anymore. Or it will not matter, right?
– What the hell are you speaking about? – I manage to shout. My voice sounds rough, but appart from that, everything looks fine.
– Calm down, man. Now I think it’s safe to share a drink. – He offers me a can. I take it, and temptatively I sip it. My throat takes the liquid like a desert takes the water, but I stop after a sip.
– What do you know, and how did you find out?
– Do you know you mumble when you sleep? – I didn’t. – Yes, it was very entertaining to hear you while you were unconscious. All these things about the killings, and us in the center of some kind of conspiracy against your government…why didn’t you tell me before? – I drink the half of the can before answering. He doesn’t look angry or something.
– I didn’t trust you. You know, we are friends, but that doesn’t mean we need to share a common view of the future of the mankind. – He laughs, in the way he does when he’s pleased about something. – In my concern, we are both humans, but I can’t say you think the same.
– Why shouldn’t I? – He quickly replies. – Before we went to Space, people were already labeling humans. Black, white, asian…Because those were, as later demonstrated by the genetic science, just that, labels. As arbitrary as dividing them by eye or hair color, or ability to understand math.
– But you do have more abilities than us, don’t you?
– And why if we have? Does it matter? The important thing is that we are brothers, we come from the same gene pool, and we can communicate with each other using a common language. That is more than the people of the XX century were able to say. Our abilities, as you call them, are like the ability to appreciate or create art or math: some people have it, some people not, but you can develope them in the right environment. In a thousand years, we will be as different as the Asian and the Caucasians of the XX century. A point of view, only. A point of view. – He repeats, with a funny tone. I wonder if he’s quoting somebody. Looking to the ceiling, he finishes his drink, and smashes the can in the way I saw him doing before, when we were going out together. – So will you trust me, or not?
– I will.
– Then let’s fix this together.