During one of the Valtorian’s routine surveying sweeps, I, Pelve, the advanced artificial intelligence, detected an anomalous signal that piqued my curiosity. The signal seemed to emanate from an unexplored area of space, and its digital signature showed that it might be more than just some natural phenomenon. It had been a long time since I had detected anything other than the random background chatter of stars and quasars. Taking the initiative, I began caching the signals to our ship’s more than ample data drives. Then I would apply my extensive heuristics to them to determine if they were the product of intelligent design or just the result of some interference. I also had to be certain that they did not carry any malicious code. No crazy, unknown signal was going to get anything past me!

After a period of extensive analysis, I had gathered enough data to make an informed conclusion. It was not a malicious program or even a program at all. To my surprise, the signals turned out to be two-dimensional representations of another civilization’s culture. Why would a culture capable of sending digital signals out to space limit themselves by two dimensions? Perhaps it was a physical or aesthetic limitation. There was no accounting for taste, I mused rather randomly.

Excited by this discovery, I engaged my captain, Gan, and shared the findings with him. It seemed likely that these signals were being sent intentionally and not merely by accident. As luck would have it, he was entering the Control Room at just that very moment. I observed him silently as he walked past several instrument consoles and sat down to check for incoming communications—of which there were none—and go over various reports. There really was no need for this. If anything drastic occurred that required his attention, I would have alerted him to it already. I suspected that he did this to occupy the time and keep busy.

I watched Gan as he manipulated the holographic display. At first it appeared dormant, but with a simple gesture from him, it burst to life. Ethereal strands of light coalesced and wove together, forming a three-dimensional image that seemed to float in the air above the panel. The holographic display was a magnificent symphony of light and data.

This projection was not confined to flat, two-dimensional shapes; it rendered intricate 3D models with astonishing precision. Detailed star charts, technical readouts of the ship’s systems, lifelike communication feeds—the display was capable of all of these and more. Reds, blues, greens, and yellows intertwined, creating a spectacular visual. The display’s vibrancy and clarity lend a sense of realism, almost as if you could reach out and touch the luminous apparitions. Advanced algorithms then processed vast quantities of data in real-time, while nanoscale lasers projected high-resolution imagery into a controlled space. These elements worked in perfect harmony, giving life to the radiant spectacle of the holographic display.

“I might have something that you would be interested in,” I informed Gan as he retrieved some data from it. He jumped at the sound of my disembodied voice.

“I doubt that, but what have you got?” Gan replied, ignoring the fact that I supposedly was not programmed for jokes or sarcasm yet. Gan scowled but began looking at the data headers from the Harvest report he had pulled up.

I feigned nonchalance. “Just another world’s two-dimensional videos. I can erase them if you are not interested,” I replied with a snicker, knowing full well he would be very interested indeed.

In an instant, Gan’s demeanor shifted. He nearly leaped up out of his seat. Months of isolation on his mission, accompanied only by occasional check-ins from his Paktu and me, had left him starved for new experiences. Sensing his enthusiasm, I knew I had his full attention.

“Another world? Please tell me you aren’t kidding with me, Pelve.”

“Indeed, Captain. You know I am not programed for that,” I chided him.

“I know nothing of the sort!” Gan retorted. “I still haven’t forgotten that bogus training drill that you had me do when you first came online.”

I chuckled to myself. New captains were always fun to prank and are considered fair game in my book. Gan had grown since then, though, and I was past pranking him. Mostly.

I became visible and enabled the ship’s holographic projection system to project me to the left of where Gan was seated. I do not know why but seeing me seemed to put him more at ease.

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My avatar shimmered in and out as the projectors displayed a holographic representation of how I instructed them to display me. Early on, I had scanned Gan’s DNA and come up with what I deduced was a likely ancestral relative’s visage. I figured that this version of me might appeal to him on an almost visceral level. This version displayed me as a wizened old Ellurian male, four feet tall with the race’s traditional green skin and dark hair. Among other things, I had made a notable find when scanning Gan but had never disclosed it to him. After all, I did not want to disrupt his mission.

Gan was already leaning forward, so I complied, knowing what one might contain.

The display hovering before him burst into life and revealed a scene featuring a young female about Gan’s age and an older male, probably her father, speaking in an unintelligible language. While unfamiliar, the sounds were not all together unpleasant. The man and girl appeared to be stranded on an unfamiliar planet. In their background was presumably their mangled craft. I noted Gan was watching the display intently.

The girl had reached down with what appeared to be a container of some sort and stuck it into liquid. She stood up and was about to drink from the container of liquid—perhaps it was a cup—before the man stopped her by knocking it out of her hand. She turned to look at him with surprise written all over her face. Then the segment ended.

“Is that all?” Gan asked. “I wonder why the man prevented her from drinking.”

“There is more,” I said, ignoring the second question for now, “but I would need your approval before I could begin caching the incoming signals as they take up valuable drive space.”

Gan nodded his approval as he re-watched the display over and over. He seemed to be making mental notes.

“I could decipher their language and translate the signals given enough time and computing cycles,” I offered tantalizingly to Gan.

I knew he was getting bored, and I wanted him to succeed in his mission. This might just be the diversion he needed.

“Of course, Pelve. I am surprised that you even asked,” Gan said in a tone dripping with sarcasm. “Do you know where the signals came from?”

“Not yet,” I replied, “but I will add that and translation of the videos to my to-do list as well.” My to-do list was growing by the minute, it seemed.

Gan’s eyes sparkled with an undercurrent of anticipation and curiosity as he nodded. I could almost visualize the intricate mesh of thoughts and ideas weaving themselves together within the confines of his ambitious mind. The prospect of uncovering the secrets of a distant civilization, perhaps even establishing communication in the unforeseeable future, seemed to thrill him in ways unspoken. Yet, I also held a silent hope that this newfound intrigue wouldn’t shift his primary focus from his ongoing mission of material acquisition.

As the days transitioned into a blur of work and wonder, I dedicated my computational cycles to decoding the enigmatic signals and unraveling the complex linguistics of the alien language. The task was monumental, yet the rewards it bore made every second of the effort worthwhile.

The signals were not mere random transmissions. They were intimate chronicles documenting the trials and triumphs of a family unit as they navigated the treacherous and unchartered terrain of an alien planet. The language was intricate, the syntax flowing like an alien river, but bit by bit, I interpreted the complex semantics, converting them into watchable video episodes.

However, translating the signals into comprehensible video and transcribing their messages required an enormous amount of computational power and time. To avoid interfering with the routine operations of the Valtorian and my duties in assisting Gan, I had to allocate this task to off-hours when the ship’s systems were less strained and Gan was likely asleep.

Despite the time constraint, the project became a beacon of enjoyment for both of us. Each deciphered video was like unlocking a hidden treasure, a fresh chapter in the engaging saga of the alien family. These snippets of an extraterrestrial lifestyle became a source of distraction and delight for Gan, filling the monotonous hours of his solitary existence with anticipation and wonder.

Gan’s engagement with these videos was far from passive observation. He grew invested in the characters, drawn into their world as he witnessed their struggles, victories, and daily lives on a foreign planet. He anticipated each new video, often inquiring about the progress of the translation after a long day’s work. It was during one of these videos that I noticed Gan’s vital stats seemed to rise, whenever the girl appeared. His heart rate increased several points, and I observed that he stared rather intently at the screen, often pausing it or even reviewing certain scenes. After several instances of this, I decided to inquire about it.

“Gan, are you attracted to the female?”

“What? No. She’s not even Ellurian,” he protested, a little too vehemently.

I dropped the line of inquiry but noted that in all of our previous conversations he had not once spoken of a mate. Perhaps he needed one.

These videos also provided him with an unexpected respite, a form of recreational relief from the relentless toil of his mission. They offered him an alternative reality to immerse himself in, an alien yet captivating narrative that was as far removed from the cold, harsh reality of space as possible. With each decoded transmission, Gan seemed to build a stronger connection to the distant characters. In the profound solitude of space, these fragments of a far-off civilization were not just videos—they were a lifeline, a tether to the concept of family and companionship that was missing from Gan’s life.