Preliminary report on the planet known as Earth.
Summary: Preliminary findings indicate Earth is habitable by oxygen-breathing carbon-based life. Climates and temperatures vary over the surface of the planet, so individual species are advised to make independent assessments based on weather data.
The dominant sapient life on the planet is a species called Humans. In their own classification system, they are homo sapien, which literally translates to “the same mind.” They have an internal skeleton with a single central nervous chord encased in bone, and they exhibit bilateral symmetry around this structure. They possess two arms and two legs and move in an upright fashion, balancing on two feet without assistance if healthy and young, though in old age and sickness they require support. Their height ranges between 150 to 215 centimeters, and they weigh between 40 and 215 kilograms, though there are outliers. They have two sexual phenotypes: one carries and gives birth to live offspring and the other provides genetic material. Typical family units consist of two sexually mature adults and their offspring. They may all live in the same area or be spread out across several dwellings. Extended familial bonds can extend several generations and are quite strong.
Secondary sexual characteristics that can be used to distinguish between the sexual phenotypes include: the presence of two milk-producing organs attached to front of the child-bearer’s body, additional fat deposits around their hips and legs, and longer hair growth on their heads. The genetic-donors typically have more muscle definition, lower body fat, and markedly smaller legs and hips. However, humans distinguish between the genetic sex of an individual and their internal identity. This results in a spectrum of ‘gender presentation’ and individual expression, and so it’s wise to simply ask a human if you must know their sex rather than making guesses.
Humans are omnivores and get most of their energy from carbohydrates. They generally like eating meat and will hunt and kill creatures for the purpose or simply for the sake of killing, as they view hunting as an important skill. They are pack hunters and work well in teams with other humans and sapient animals. They have domesticated a companion animal, called dogs, that originally served the purpose of a hunting partner. They have formed similar bonds with other carnivores on Earth.
Paradoxically, though they are the dominant species on Earth, humans are not particularly well adapted to living on it. They are generalists, able to survive in a vast range of climates and on a wide range of foods. They terraform the landscape to fit their needs and are wary of the areas on the planet they haven’t altered. They are also unwilling to let others travel outside of their cities and towns without supervision.
The current hypothesis is that there were once many larger predators that were outcompeted or killed off by humans in the recent past. This instinctive fear of the outside is the last remnant of them on the species.
The other possibility is that Earth still hides many dangers, and that the humans either don’t think them important to mention or are keeping them hidden. More investigation is necessary.
Planet classification: Unable to determine.
Next steps: On the recommendation of human assistants, academics, and correspondents, I have postponed traveling until the end of the cold season, as apparently they can be very busy. Upon the new year, I will commence traveling around the planet and investigating different countries, cultures, and climates. I am working with several human universities to plan this trip.
Estimated time until next report: Six months.
End preliminary report.
Attached correspondence:
Dear Librarian,
I learned a new word recently: Eldritch. It’s from the human language English, and it means “strange or unnatural, without description.” I thought of you when I learned it. The connotation is negative, as it often appears in tales of monsters and ghosts, but there is something beautiful about it too. The unknown is a wonderful thing. I thought you might want to add it to your collection of words.
I think you would like this planet. Well, I know you could take or leave the planet, but I think you would like humans. They are strange creatures. I have never seen a species so simultaneously fascinated with and repulsed by death, suffering, and terror. It seems to me that even the brightest and most light-hearted among them is constantly staring into oblivion. It gives them a unique perspective on life, I think, to be so instinctively obsessed with death. They spend vast swaths of time and energy running from it. They refuse to succumb to age or illness. And yet they are willing to die for what they deem worthy. Sometimes they will throw their lives away for no reason at all.
This whole planet is a paradox. Each thing is both gentle and brutal. The humans have domesticated dogs, as I mentioned in the report, which they adore and are very friendly to humans, and yet every human I’ve spoken to about it has cautioned me to never trust a strange dog because they may bite. Similarly, they have small companion animals called cats that, while apparently very soft and cuddly, are equipped with sharp claws and teeth and carry bacteria in their saliva that can cause death. Even worse, cats are not properly domesticated and will attack for seemingly no reason. And yet humans love them anyway.
The flowers that bloom outside my door grow on a bush covered in sharp spines. The ones tended in the gardens have poisonous greens and seeds. There is a beautiful plant in the nearby hills that turns red in cold weather, and touching it causes humans to break out in terrible itching rashes. Humans themselves can be very gentle or incredibly destructive. I watched the same child throw rocks at wild animals in the park and then draw with their younger sibling, being just as supportive and lovely as you would imagine. When they get older, they get smarter about how they use their energy, but they remain capable of violence. It often comes out when they’re in an altered state of consciousness.
That is the other strange thing about humans. Some of them, most of them in fact, choose to poison themselves with alcohol in order to lower their inhibitions and release stress. You know I can’t metabolize alcohol, and I have no issue enjoying myself when I’m clear-headed, so every once and a while, one of them will take it upon themselves to try to trick me into partaking. It’s only happened twice, but every time I go anywhere, I am always offered alcohol.
Maybe I am not doing this species or planet justice, but whenever I think I’ve found something unambiguously good about it, something comes along to sour the experience at least a little. Even Chint, which I know you regard as an unkind world, has ronnals, which are simply pleasant and which the planet gifted to the Chintilik without taking anything in return. Without them, my childhood would have been unbearable. I probably ate more than my fair share. Humans have a food called chocolate that brings them a similar amount of joy. It takes them five full days to process, and the outer husks of the plant are toxic to them. I’ve tried it, and I understand why they go through the trouble, but I can’t help feeling a little sad for them that they can’t simply pick them out of the sand and eat when whole and warm.
Humans are also absolutely obsessed with categorizing their world. They label everything: every wavelength and type of vibration, every species they run across, every star, and every speck of matter they can. Their name for the galaxy that most of us simply call “the home galaxy” is “the milky way.” Every human has at least two names. I’ve met some with four or five. It’s a lot to keep track of, but seeing as their whole planet is seemingly intent on killing them one way or another, the instinctive need to categorize things makes sense.
And despite all this: the dangerous plants and animals, the violent population, and the unknowns of a newly-discovered planet, I find that I’m in love with Earth. Or perhaps I am just fond of humans. There is Sandra, of course. She’s the assistant I hired to help me. She’s very smart and has a good head for planet surveying, but I recently became aware that she does not make such good decisions in her personal life. Still, she is very kind and an excellent resource. I have also made several friends around the university. Martha and Julie, two more human women, work in childcare on campus. Oscar works in a student research center. Iris and Michael are both students at the university. There’re Juan, Chuy, and Maria who all work at the university’s library. Then there are a variety of humans outside of the campus. I’ve gotten friendly with a homeless human man who sleeps on the corner of the supermarket nearby. He’s told me some fascinating stories. The staff at the nearby restaurants also recognize me, though I don’t know them by name other than Lina, who makes what I am told are the best samosas in town. By the time I conclude my work here, I think I will have at least three hundred more names to add to that list.
I can trust you not to lecture me about remaining neutral. I’m using your strategy for surviving in a hostile space, after all. And the humans are familiar with me. And through me they know the Frid and the Canteron and the Galactic Library. Their reactions have been 95% positive and 5% unhinged lunacy, but that’s about what I expect from any civilized species. I’m beginning to think that the reports of violent humans off-planet were made by inexperienced travelers or by those who, to borrow a human phrase, had it coming.
I think I’ve rambled about my experiences enough.
In my report, I said that I have not yet assigned the planet a classification. While this is true, I have narrowed my recommendation to two options. Earth is either a class four planet, or a deathworld. As of yet, I have not been able to choose between the two. There are plenty of resources, but they take work to gain. There are comfortable climates, but there are harsh ones. There are friendly animals, but there are deadly ones too. Paradoxes and confusing details. I am terrified of this planet and yet I love it. I hope that I will have a solid recommendation in six months when I make my next report. If I don’t, I will request a specialist to help me. Skaalt would be my first choice.
I hope that your work is going well. If I have not lost track of the galactic calendar, you should be accepting new candidates for the planetary surveyors right about now. I know most of them don’t stick, but I wish you luck anyway. If we’re fortunate, you should see a human or two in the program soon. I think you’ll be very happy with them, even if they are a bit rough at first.
If you want to make things more interesting for them, I’m including several human books with this letter. They’re mostly fiction aside from one piece about their advancements in space exploration. The fiction stories are called “Space Operas.” Some are serious, and some are satirical. I’m told that the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is something special. It’s a satirical comedy. I hope you enjoy them.
Wishing you quiet sands and easy travels,
Dron Acharya
Returned letter:
My Dear Acharya,
I received your report. Thank you, as always, for lending your legs to the work that I cannot perform myself. And thank you for the letter you sent along with the report. I am always glad to hear about your experiences from your point of view.
Eldritch is a fine word, and I’ll certainly add it to my collection. I’ll also add some of the books you sent, including the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy to the reading list for incoming planetary surveyors. It’s a delightful example of literature being used by a species to make commentary on itself. I also had a good laugh over the bits about the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. The next time someone asks me the meaning of life, I will have to tell them “forty-two” and watch them try to decide what I mean.
Your assessment of Earth is interesting. All planets are paradoxes, and all species are strange from the outside. Still, I find the details you included disturbing. Particularly those about ingesting poisons. It’s not unheard of, but it is rare. If you wouldn’t mind, please ask Sandra or one of your other correspondents about the water quality on the planet and water-borne pathogens. Alcohol tolerance may have been necessary to avoid other, worse afflictions in the past. That is the pattern I’ve observed in other cases.
It does sound as if you’ve stumbled into a difficult case. I know you are up to the challenge. Do not let your work be dictated by the locals, please. You may take their advice, but it is your responsibility to see what they do not want you to see and go where they ask you not to. Obviously do not desecrate a holy site, but do not accept their boundaries either.
In the same vein, Acharya, I know you fall in love with each planet you live on. You are a gentle mind, and your soul is an explorer. You have many admirable qualities that make you an accomplished surveyor. And you also have many qualities that present challenges. Among them is an extreme loyalty to whatever rock you happen to be standing on. There are still political tensions surrounding humans and their planet. I will not tell you not to get attached, but if there comes a moment where you must either get off their planet or be imprisoned there, I urge you to leave. You are dear to me, and I do not wish to see you trapped on a planet, any planet. You are meant to leap between stars.
May your travels bring you great joy,
The Librarian
