And far it has, the little thing. I missed it, because apparently I was living under some rock, but the Voyager I escaped the Solar System a little more than a year ago. Let me rephrase that:
We just managed to throw a message in a bottle to interstellar space. Some monkeys in suits and overalls.
Way to go, Humankind.
Why a bottle you ask? Because the Voyager I (There were two of them) carried something inside. In our (arguably rare and often unused) wisdom, be figured that, as long as we were sending something to boldly go to the God forsaken reaches of space, we might as well throw in some meaning into the mix. Some measure of beauty. And we did, God, we did. We sent the Golden Record.
The Golden record is...actually, who cares what it is. The Golden record carries what a committee chaired by Carl Sagan chose as our introduction to the stars. If something ever finds the Voyagers (Either one of them) that record will be our first communication with some intelligence that isn't ours.
You know, no pressure or anything.
The record carries, of course, a measure of scientific data that might be relatable to any sentient species, such as some mathematical definitions, chemistry formulae or the solar location Map. That's all good and fine, and necessary too. It's a sensible attempt at demonstrating that we are, indeed, intelligent. A clever lie, you might say. Good going, Mr. Sagan.
But then there's the rest of it. That's where science said "I'm out" and good old Carl went full-on genius. They put three other things in that record:
First, they put pictures. An Elephant. Some mother breast-feeding his son. A party in china. Some home-construction in Africa. An airport. The Great Barrier Reef. An old man with a dog and some flowers.
Secondly, they put greetings. There are greetings for whoever finds the Voyager...in 55 languages. You should listen to them. Some are boring, sure, or empty or not that good. But the rest of them? They are magnificent. The Akkadian and Sumerian "May all be well". The Punjabi "Welcome home. It is a pleasure to receive you.". The Mandarin Chinese "Hope everyone's well. We are thinking about you all. Please come here to visit when you have time.". The English, said by Mr. Sagan own child, "Hello from the children of planet Earth.".
Good things come in threes. It's practically a storytelling law. So, lastly, they put sounds and music. The sound of fire, and human speech. The sound of thunder and earthquakes and volcanoes. The sound of cars and trains and planes. The sound of frogs and dogs and horses. The sound of heartbeat, laughter, and a mother kissing his child. Bach's Brandenburg Concerto. Senegalese percussion. Mozart's "The Magic Flute". Chinese "Flowing Streams". Beethoven. Navajo Chants. Chuck Berry's fucking "Johnny B. Goode".
The Voyager includes "Dark Was The Night, Cold Was The Ground" by '20s bluesman Blind Willie Johnson, whose stepmother blinded him when he was seven by throwing lye in is his eyes after his father had beat her for being with another man. He died, penniless, of pneumonia after sleeping bundled in wet newspapers in the ruins of his house that burned down. But his music just left the solar system.
The Golden Record carries beauty and sadness, joy and salutations. Because while math and science it's what will prove our intelligence to our otherworldly fellows and what will helps us communicate and learn from each other, it's the rest of the record what will prove that we are, indeed, alive.
We are creatures who make mistakes and envy others, who kill and maim and recklessly push around their own kind. Creatures of conflict. But we are also creatures that improve themselves. Creatures that teach, and learn, and sing, and dance, and make love and Art. Creatures of hope.
This ain't such a bad presentation card for humankind. If all you had to judge was this record, what would you think of us?
