Chapter Text
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The desert was cold at night, and no end to it in sight.
It was very much the same as the Sahara, big and nearly devoid of life, before they’d learned to build sustainable and affordable cities in such places. However, his target was nowhere near any kind of civilization.
Heavy boots sank into sand, and he looked up at the sandy-colored tower. America smirked, the wind breezed by, and he lifted his arm to shoot a fast, sharp grappling hook, it caught the top window's edge, and the device pulled him towards it fast. Reaching the top, he peered into the window — it was a long drop, but his device could still reach it just fine… He jumped in. His boots hit the floor loudly, America breathed, withstanding the impact, before standing straight, cracking his neck. He looked around, eyes widening.
Approaching the edge of the bridge, he could see how far it went below him— rows and rows of books.
Precious information.
His eyes twinkled with awe, teeth flashing as he grinned. This place was invaluable!
The drones had captured images of fox-like animals, carrying book after book into this place. America knew it was a worthwhile endeavor to check it out. Never a person ventured by, so they assumed it was possibly empty of human-like life.
So, as a shadow stretched over him, America turned with a shiver, reaching for the gun under his arm with a cautious posture. His head raised at the– “What the…” Giant owl. America stepped back.
The animal looked at him, following his movements with intelligent eyes. Its beak opened– “–who—may—be?”
America frowned. It sounded like Chinese. He stood upright, still gripping his Magnum. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” He tried Chinese back.
The owl tilted its head. America shadowed the gesture.
“I—did not—the dialect—changed—surface.” It said.
America listened intently. It sounded like Chinese, with some Hindi loanwords and some kind of accent. “Do you understand me now?” He tried Hindi, enunciating every word.
The owl hummed. “Ancient Monastic. How peculiar that you speak an extinct Southern Air Nomad language.”
America clapped his hands once, grinning. “We understand each other! Fantastic! But, dead language, hmm…” He nudged his chin. “That is not helpful. Hey, do owls normally talk in this world?”
“No, animals do not speak outside the Spirit World.”
America nodded, pretending to understand whatever ‘spirit world’ meant. “I see. So, let me introduce myself. I am Alfred Jones.” He raised one arm and did a light bow, as if presenting a show. “I represent my people in our first contact with this world.”
“You present yourself as a human, and yet… How fascinating…” The owl said. It sounded interested, thankfully. “I am Wang Shi Tong, he who knows ten thousand things, and where did your people come from?”
“Literally, from another world.” America said with his corporate friendly face. “My people made a doorway from our home-world, to this one. However, we couldn’t control where the doorway led, we ended up in the desert here. We did some scouting for safety, and we spotted this place. I came to check what it was, but I wasn’t expecting to find such a vast and beautiful wealth of knowledge.” He looked around, still impressed.
“Another world.” The owl said. “I must say, for a lie, it is creative.”
“It is not a lie.” America said seriously, hands in his pockets. “I do not know how far any civilization has advanced here, but other worlds bearing life is not far-fetched. The universe, as my people have observed this last century, is so unfathomably gigantic, that is very reasonable to say life exists in different celestial bodies. The bare minimum needed is a big enough rock at a specific distance from a healthy star, and there you go, life blooms.” He shrugged.
“I see…” The owl was cautious — but curious. “And what are you seeking in my library?”
“Knowledge, of course.”
“Really.” The owl leaned closer, America didn’t move an inch. “Because the last human I let in, as you appear to be, came here looking to destroy his enemies.” The tone dripped with animosity, its shrewd eyes observing his appearance and clothes. “So who are you trying to destroy?”
America remained still, looking at its black eyes right in front of him. “Mister Won She Ton. My people are mercantile, we value trade, there is no wish to destroy potential wealth with useless wars. We traveled this far to find new markets and connections, and as you can see, there is a language barrier, we know too little about this world and its people, so it is wise to amend this before we make contact. That is my one goal here.”
The owl considered his words — or so America assumed — staring intently before slowly leaning back. “Very well.” It said. “I will let you peruse my vast collection. On one condition.”
America nodded, letting it continue.
“Prove your worth as a scholar, and contribute some worthwhile knowledge.”
America nudged his chin with a hum. “I was scouting, I have not brought any books… Does spoken knowledge work for you? Next time I can bring actual books.”
“I suppose this can work.” The owl nodded.
“Fantastic!” America grinned. “So, while I peruse the language section, we may share knowledge.”
The owl scoffed, its wing ushered him down a hall. “How many languages does your world have?”
America walked. “There are approximately 7,117 known languages spoken by people around my world, although most of them are either spoken by tribal and cultural niches or only preserved by scholars. I speak 35 of the main ones, with three of those being specialties in my country.”
The halls were darker further in, so America lit the flashlight strapped to his waist, still hearing the big owl’s steps behind him.
“Tell me about your world’s history.”
“My world? Well, I suppose it is much like any history of any other world. Our main calendar is currently in the year of our Lord 2122, that is the religious calendar. But in raw numbers, the first modern human began farming roughly 12 thousand years ago. That’s the Human Era, and we barely began the 22nd century of our calendar.” America eyed the shelves as he walked, turning whenever the owl directed him to. “The last century had an unprecedented period of peace, with few wars or revolutions compared to most of human history. The century before that, the two deadliest war in human history happened, as well as what we called a cold war, which was ideological and competitive, there was no direct combat. My people visited the Moon in that century.” He smiled, raising his head lightly.
“Ooh, the Moon you say?” Reluctantly impressed.
“Yes! It was quite the technological achievement.” America raised a finger. “For most of the Human Era, humanity was divided between two continental lands, and the two halves only met again 600 years ago due to technological advancements in sailing, which allowed humans to traverse the great ocean that separated us…”
America spoke of Earth’s history in loose terms, without more radical concepts such as evolution. He didn’t know where this world stood on such matters yet.
In those terms, he went back far enough to receive more questions.
How did his people know what happened long before they began writing about it?
Science, and theories. But America believed they were mostly correct; even if there was room for error.
There was plenty to keep the owl engaged, if not distracted as America took books to read. He’d prefer to be alone in such a place, to be honest, but he kept himself patient, explaining as far back as the Big Bang, his world’s theory of the universe’s very beginning.
“We got this theory from studying celestial bodies. We know what stars are made out of, see– hey, did you know, all those stars you see in the night sky are the same as the sun that shines during the day?”
“How so?”
“We have some powerful telescopes back home, we can see them up close. It is a matter of absolute magnitudes, they only appear so small and provide so little light because they are so incredibly far from us. If you could see some of them up close like we did, you would be amazed at how small we are. It’s like we’re dust specs to a mountain in comparison.”
They could see so much more, and there was so much to say and explain — why the hell was America talking to a giant fucking owl about stars? America couldn’t really help it, he really loved talking about space.
And at least, he seemed to have convinced the talking owl that he was honest, giving him free range of this invaluable library so his plans for this world could finally be put into motion.
And all he needed to pay his fee was a very generous tip of basic cosmic knowledge.
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