"It's called a petal. Go on touch it."
I don't know if I should. We just met. First contact, as humans like to say. She could be friendly. She could be hostile.
"Touch my pretty flower," she insists.
Do I have a choice in the matter? She’s millions of years ahead.
I touch the petal with the tip of my finger.
I see the history of her species. Their prehistoric beginnings modeled from the data bases of her socio-cultural matrix.
"Do you like it?"
The rush of intelligence and knowledge. All the joys and sorrows as life evolved in her planetary womb.
She laughs with delight.
"Now touch the fuzzy bit."
The flower shimmers in the middle, pink and swollen receptors.
"Go on, touch it."
But we just made contact. How could I? I feel like a mouse playing with a cat.
Her eyes glow across the constellations. Aeons of artificial engineering. It's all too much. Clearly, I have no choice, and so I touch the fuzzy bit.
It all becomes clear now. Bit by fuzzy bit. Like an image of increasing resolution. Our own place in the cosmos.
"Do you understand?" she asks.
I understand.
"Welcome," she says. "We've been expecting you."
Dance me to the End of Love was an original song by Leonard Cohen. This one is for you, Leonard.