Salvation

When the signal came, the world’s wise men and women fell silent. When the signal came, NASA’s observers covered their mouths in awe. When the signal came, every nation stood still, and waited.

     The signal was from far away, millions of light years beyond Alpha Centauri, beyond Andromeda, beyond the walls of the known universe, where our telescopic eyes could not see and our satellite ears could not hear.

    We will save you, the signal said.

    Saved. At long last humanity’s aimless quest for meaning had come to an end. No more would this strange primate in civilization’s mask be left alone in an unfeeling cosmos. Salvation was at hand.

    Then came the second signal.

    Prepare yourselves for our arrival. We come in peace, to remove your sorrow and heal your pain.

    Those who come in peace must be greeted with peace, the nations reasoned. Neighbour was joined to neighbour in unity and love. There was neither hate nor greed. There was no more war, no disputes over ancestral land, no conflict over oil or vital resources. Those who would be kings sat down in silence. Those who would burn the world in radioactive fire stood outside, watching. The fascist broke bread with the communist. The deist sat beside the atheist. All ideologies were set aside. All prejudices erased. All that remained was raw, complex, paradoxical humanity.  

    Peace. Peace. The world had found its peace.

    Then came the final signal.

    We will approach you within a day. You will see us in the sky. We will sing to you.

    We watched through the night. We watched through the dawn. We meditated on all we had achieved in the span of a few short weeks.

    Then came the day.

    A large unidentifiable object hovered over the planet. A gentle pitch hummed from its centre. A great shadow cast itself over the sun and over the moon. Crowds watched and waited in eager anticipation. Soon, very soon, the apotheosis of our species would be made complete. We watched and wondered. At once, a wave of sound unlike any sound heard on this world triumphed through the air like a parade of charioteers.

    The object had made itself known.

    No one had seen anything like it. We gasped and pointed and wondered aloud at the ever-expanding thing above, this remarkable sight that rivaled the coming of the messiah.

    In the air above the cotton patches of cloud was a growing, multiplying system of root, branch, and foliage, a marvelous complexity of gnarled bark, pine needles and yellow maple leaves, cedar roots and oak trunks and peachleaf willow clothed in red and green.

    The sound of horns thundered in the sky. The whistle of wind instruments followed. At once every tree on this planet let out a wild pitch that should have burst our ears. And in return, the mighty horns sang. The whistling instruments repeated their soft refrain.

    On and on it went, this responsive hymn of tree and cosmic wildwood, until at last every space of the Earth’s stratosphere was filled with root and leaf.

    Of course.

    It had not come for us. It came to save its children, the children of the meadow and of the mountain, the children of the valley and of the rainforest. It had come for the children not yet felled by axe and saw, whose knotted flesh had not yet crackled in the fire.

    It had come for the trees.

    All our efforts, our struggles for peace and reconciliation were at once meaningless. It cared not for our wars. It cared not for our peace. It cared not for our morality. It cared not for us.

    At once the trees rejoiced and humanity faded from their ancient memory. We were no more. Only they remained.

    The sun once again peeked through the winding, cosmic lair.

At last! the trees cried. At last! Salvation.