The Gamma Paradox

For more than eighty cycles, the Archivists of Nareth, members of the Concord of Oris, had listened to the transmissions coming from the distant planet Gamma.

Through the thousands of hours of received footage, they had studied and assimilated its various languages. For their classification, they adopted the very categories used by the Gammites: newscasters, movies, series, commercials, political debates, and sports broadcasts.

With that organized information, they concluded that the inhabitants of Gamma were: Violent.

They competed for territory, wealth, influence, and recognition. They turned their tragedies into headlines and their opinions into battles to create a spectacle.

Because if there was one thing the Gammites adored, it was a spectacle.

Another major enigma of this civilization was that the Gammites called the planet Earth.

However, they referred to themselves as humans, not Earthlings. Why humans?

That was one of the most persistent questions among the study circles of Nareth.

What exactly was it to be human?

Some transmissions managed to explain that it was not just a name; it was also a concept.

Why would a species choose to define itself by a concept rather than just by the planet it belonged to?

At this point, and given that the volume of images coming from Gamma was steadily increasing—further intensifying the internal debates—all members of the Concord of Oris decided to resolve the matter of the Gamma Paradox.

For this task, they assigned the mission to the experienced Unit 7.

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In less than one cycle, U-7 completed the journey. The ship breached Gamma's atmosphere during a nocturnal period and landed among the woods surrounding a small city.

U-7 immediately accessed the Gammite information networks: maps, censuses, public records, and tracking systems were integrated into its observation interface. One of them, called Google Maps, proved surprisingly useful despite its evident technological crudeness.

The location was marked as Asheville.

After some necessary modifications to make it functional, the maps began to display roads, houses, buildings, and… the Gammites.

Asheville was a class 6 Gammite settlement; thousands of Gammites appeared moving through the city… but alongside them, a second life form constantly appeared.

U-7 processed this for a moment.

According to the databases, that second life form was known as: dog.

During the following hour of observation, it detected patterns that were difficult to explain.

The Gammites altered their trajectories to accompany them and interrupted activities to tend to them. They dedicated resources, time, and space within their own shelters to them.

U-7 decided to expand its observation of this anomaly and zoomed in at random on the map.

The first thing that appeared was a Gammite carefully picking up the fecal waste of the dog accompanying him and carrying it to a container.

While observing the Gammite, a system notification popped up on one of the margins of its interface: Human: from the Latin humanus, derived from humus, earth; one who comes from the earth.

It observed the screen with satisfaction and verified the references. It matched. It was a great finding. Latin was one of the proto-languages of Gamma, it knew that. It had been mentioned countless times in transmissions, but Gamma had never broadcasted in Latin, save for isolated phrases. It ordered the system to download the language: Latin. In less than a millisecond, the system responded: download complete.

U-7 looked back at the Gammite and the dog; it did not understand.

It reviewed the recording three times. It did not improve its comprehension of the phenomenon.

It decided to access human records regarding dogs.

The conclusion deepened its bewilderment even further.

Dogs did not produce valuable resources. They did not constitute a significant source of food. Nor did they hold positions of authority within the Gammite social structure.

And yet, they appeared everywhere.

U-7 widened the observation. It found them in homes, vehicles, parks, shops, and leisure venues. The Gammites seemed to organize a good portion of their existence around them. This struck it as profoundly illogical; it decided to refine the observation.

The closest luminous point was a dwelling that, according to records, belonged to a Gammite named Ellen Marsh.

U-7 opened an observation log: Sixty-eight Gammite years old, retired librarian. Widow. Shared the residence with a dog, whom she did not call dog, but Walter. It noted that human Gammites named their dogs.

Over the following days, it observed their routine: The human Ellen woke up early. She would drink something while talking to the dog Walter. But the dog did not respond to her, and the human kept talking to him.

Veterinary records indicated that the dog was 14 Gammite years old and that its organism was in an advanced stage of biological deterioration; the medical records of the human indicated that she suffered from various ailments and that her organism was also in an advanced stage of deterioration.

U-7 considered a new detail to analyze.

Were human Gammites connected to their dogs? That could be the answer it was looking for. The Gammites would not be the first life form to use another life form to sustain itself.

It performed a more detailed analysis. One of the dog's hind legs functioned quite poorly, and the human constantly adapted her behavior to accommodate that limitation.

The surprise came when the analysis also clearly showed that she had similar limitations, though they were not exactly the same.

U-7 then discarded the idea of a structural symbiosis between both organisms and wondered: Why did the human do that for the dog?

Days passed this way, with routines remaining constant, yet to show satisfactory results that explained these behaviors.

That morning, U-7 opened the routine observation and found Walter stopping next to the tree he visited every day.

According to records, the olfactory analysis should conclude nine seconds later. But Walter remained there for almost a full minute, and so did Ellen.

U-7 zoomed in on the image and waited for them to keep walking.

Walter and Ellen did not. They simply remained by the tree.

An anomaly.

It did not understand why it archived that moment… and hours later, it looked at it again. This struck it as even stranger than the relationship between dogs and humans; archivists like itself did not review irrelevant observations, and yet it was beginning to do so with increasing frequency.

It turned back for a second to look at the image.

Walter and Ellen by the tree.

It consulted various articles again, photographs of dogs, and finally videos. It realized something was not entirely right when it stopped wondering why the Gammites lived with dogs and began wondering how Walter had woken up.

U-7 began to feel strangely worried about the situation and about how it was contaminating it. It did not record when this change occurred in its own behavior; it preferred not to. It was an archivist of Nareth, and its own safety was irrelevant… It decided to continue the observation and zoomed in.

Ellen was already walking, waiting for Walter as she did every day. Next to the tree, Walter stopped and sat down. Ellen looked at him, waiting for him.

But Walter collapsed and closed his eyes.

U-7 could not help but feel unsettled as it watched.

Ellen approached Walter, sat by his side, and hugged him, weeping.

U-7 shut down the screens, overwhelmed. It needed to process internally why it felt this way.

A few hours later, it had made a decision; one that violated more than 25 protocols and several laws of the Concord of Oris.

It went down to the planet.

It reviewed the latest images and did not stop until it found where Walter's remains had been taken.

That night, it did not rest.

As its ship ascended alongside the dawn, preparing to depart, U-7 looked at the city one last time.

It zoomed in one last time before disconnecting from the human systems.

Ellen and a small puppy were in the kitchen.

U-7 noticed Ellen's face radiant as she watched the puppy with joy and surprise.

The puppy was where Walter had always eaten, eating from his usual bowl, doing everything Walter had always done.

U-7 paused for a moment. Realizing it had made a mistake. It had not erased Walter's memory.

U-7 had never made a mistake… It reflected for a moment; perhaps human did come from humus, earth.

But the concept...

The concept also applied to anyone who did absurdly beautiful, sometimes imperfect things for someone who, without knowing why... matters to you.

"From this day on," it whispered to itself, "I declare myself an Oris-Human."

Then, it felt a slight movement by its side. In that moment, it met the curious eyes of the small puppy that had just emerged from the ship's biological chamber.

U-7 looked at this being—a being that did not produce resources, that served no tangible purpose, and yet managed to make the most violent species in the galaxy stop and weep for him next to a tree.

It smiled, convinced.

The archivists of Nareth needed to see this. Not just the images that Gamma had been sending for so many cycles, but the dog.

Only then would they finally understand why the Gammites did not limit themselves to calling themselves Earthlings, but humans.

The puppy stared at it intently.

Unit 7 extended its hand, stroking it with a newly discovered tenderness, mimicking the movements Ellen used to make, and allowed itself to feel, for the first time, the pulse of that life form between its hands.

It activated the thrusters and set course for Oris.

It knew it was going to have to give a lot of explanations, but it also knew that it carried with it the exact answer to the Gamma Paradox.

"Walter 7," it named him.