Eric Brown - Kethani

Kthani

By Eric Brown

THE COMING OF THE KTHANI

Everyoneremembers what they were doing on the day the Onward Stations, those toweringmonuments to the fact of extraterrestrial intelligence, appeared on Earth.

Iwas in my mid-twenties, finishing my internship at Bradley General Hospital inthe wild moorland of West Yorkshire. Life was good; I enjoyed my work, and theprospect of specialisation. I had met a wonderful woman a year earlierZara,whom I would marry in eighteen monthsand I was adapting well to life in thecountry after twenty-five years of living in Bradford.

Andthen the Kthani came, and for a while everything was in turmoil.

Onthe day planet Earth was made aware that sentient alien life existed out therebeyond the solar system, I had the privilege of witnessing the appearance ofthe strange alien construct on the harsh winter landscape of the moorland abovethe village of Oxenworth.

Itwas midday on a freezing Monday in mid-January, and I had set off early for alate shift at the hospital. What was in my head as I drove from the village andclimbed the narrow lane onto the brow of the moors, from which it seemed theentire world could be viewed? Well, as ever I was thanking my lucky stars, andno doubt enjoying the panorama. After the cramped shabbiness of my life inBradford, the unspoilt landscape of the moorland, giving way to rollingfarmland in the distance, seemed pristine and limitless. Not unlike myfuturethough little did I realise this at the time.

Iwas slowing down to appreciate the view to my right when it happened.

Tomy left, something flashed. It was so bright that it caused me to brake andpeer through the side window, giving an involuntary cry of surprise.

Thecrest of the moorland, perhaps half a mile above me, was shimmeringthe kind ofcorrugated effect produced by heat haze above a road in summer, except thatthis shimmer extended vertically perhaps five hundred metres into the clearblue winter sky.

Ijust sat and stared.

Theshimmer vanished, and in its place I made out a slim obelisk fashioned, Ithought instantly, from ice. It reflected the sun in golden bursts, and whereits steep planes did not coruscate with the winter sunlight, they had adazzling silver aluminium sheen.

Iknow its a clich, but I did not believe my eyes.

Iwas convinced that I was seeing things, that the needle-slim tower was aneffect of the sunlight on the snow, or perhaps an icicle in the foregroundwhich my brain processed as much larger than it was, which was ridiculous, ofcourse. But at the time I was dazed and shaken, to say the least.

Istarted the car and drove on 100 metres, to be as close to the thing as theroad would take me. Then I climbed out and began walking towards it, leavingthe tarmac and wading through the snow-covered heather.

Iwas filled with wonder. I could not analyse my feelings then, though Ive hadplenty of time since to work out why I felt what I did. The inexplicablearrival of the obelisk was sufficient in itself to rouse awe from the mostsceptical of people, and, if that were not enough, then the actual physicalbeauty of the construct, its alien perfection, tugged something in the heart. Isay alien perfection, but this is not the wisdom of hindsight: thestrange architecture of the tower spoke of a design never dreamed up by a humanmind. As I drew closer and stared up, craning my neck to peer at its summitsome 500 metres above me, I made out the odd swirling patterns etched into thematerial of its rearing flanks ice, I mistakenly thought of the material then.There was something ineluctably other in the curlicue whorls thatclimbed the needle, something random like an abstract pattern, and yet obeyinga logic that spoke almost of some kind of language.

Atthe base of the tower was a rectangular block, and set into its sides was whatappeared to be a triangular door, and to either side long, horizontalviewscreens. These were the most identifiable aspect of the tower, and yetstill possessed a strangeness not of this world.

Ifumbled with my mobile and got through to Zara. She was still on holiday,preparing lessons for the start of the new term.

Khalid?She sounded worried. I rarely used the mobile. What is it?

Zara.Drop what youre doing and look out of the front window.

What...?Khalid, are you?

Doit!

Asilence of five seconds, then a soft, Oh, my... Khalid, what is it? Oh... oh,its so beautiful.

Imstanding right beside it. Can you see my car on the road? Look, get yourself uphere.

Imcoming, Khalid. She cut the connection.

Myheart was beating fast. I just wanted to hold Zara and cry. Perhaps it was someodd effect of the tower, its alien influence. Perhaps the Kthani weremanipulating us, even then.

Iheard a car on the road behind me, and then another. Within a minute there werehalf a dozen cars lined up in the lane, their owners making their way throughthe snow and heather, gazing up in silent wonder. Behind them, I made out theroads leading from Oxenworth. The sun dazzled on a dozen car windscreens.

Irecognised a couple of people in the small group: Richard Lincoln, who Idchatted to a few times in the Fleece, and Jeff Morrow, a local teacher. Theyjoined me.

Isaid, It just appeared. Like magic. It wasnt there... and then... the airshimmered and it just... appeared. I realised I was babbling and shutup.

Richardstepped forward, leaving the group and approaching the silver building thatformed the base of the tower. He reached out tentatively, touched the materialwith his fingertips and didnt take his hand away.

Ioften wonder what drew him to the construct, if it were some knowledge thatsoon, very soon, he would be in the employ of our alien visitors.

Helooked back at us, still connected to the wall by his fingertips. Its warm,he whispered.

Weall approached then and touched the silver flank, and Lincoln was right. Thematerial seemed... well, alive. I swore I felt, other than warmth, apulse beneath my hand. I tried to peer through, but the material was opaque andnothing of the interior could be seen.

JeffMorrow said, almost to himself, And now this...

Ittook a few seconds before I realised what he meant. Caroline, his wife, hadbeen killed in a car accident a couple of weeks before Christmas... and as ifthat were not enough for him to cope with, the questioning that accompaniesgrief was compounded by this mystery.

Later,when the Kthani explained their mission on Earth, Jeff Morrows grief would betested even further. Perhaps he intuited this even then, or perhaps the deadlight in his eyes as he beheld the tower was merely sadness that he could notshare the moment with his wife.

Iheard a sound behind me, my name. It was Zara, tramping through the snow, hersari hitched up to her knees. In her other hand she clutched, incongruously, atransistor radio.

Khalid,she called. Its not the only one! There are reports coming in... thereshundreds of them... thousands, all over the world.

Shejoined us and upped the volume. The tinny voice of an on-the-scene reporterfilled the air.... standing beside the tower on the south downs a mile westof Lewes. Reports are that the tower just appeared out of the blue at middayprecisely. I have with me an eyewitness...

Ilistened, but with only half an ear, to a largely incoherent account of thewonder that had occurred in Sussex.

Iheld Zara to me, a strange emotion welling in my chest.

Tenminutes later it seemed that the entire population of Oxenworth and thesurrounding villages had poured out and were massed at the foot of the tower.We stood in a crowd five deep, staring up and listening to Zaras radio asreports flooded in from around the world. The story was the same from Austriato Zaire, Australia to Zanzibar: at the same time, all around the globe, thetowers had appeared in relatively unpopulated areas beside small villages ortowns. There were no reports of their appearing in cities, nor in uninhabitedareas like deserts. The initial estimate, garnered in the first hour by theBBC, was that tens of thousands had appeared across the face of the Earth. Theactual figure, it eventuated, was precisely 110,000.