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[…]
[Day 101 of the voyage.]
[Ciao. Space is still deep, and dark. The probe’s interior is filled with sound—but most of it is nothing more than the hum of circulation fans, the vibration of electronic systems, the faint beeping of machinery.
When I find myself missing the sounds of nature, I take out the turntable. It’s been specially designed to function even in zero gravity. I set the golden record in place and lower the needle, and it begins to spin—round and round, like a small, distant world. Not pale, not blue… and yet, for those who have left their home star, anything that turns in a circle has a way of reminding them of where they came from.
Greetings. Rain. The calls of birds and whales. A concerto…
By the time a single track finishes, exactly 3,230 seconds have passed on Earth.
I suppose it’s time to begin my work.
I’ll contact you again, Direttrice.
May today be, once again, Molto bene.]
Sounds of Earth terminated the transmission.
The recorded data would be converted into zeros and ones and sent back toward Earth. By the time it arrived, the probe—Voyager—would already have ventured even deeper into interstellar space. The delay in replies had been growing longer and longer. Before long, the signal would cease altogether.
When the Golden Record Project was first announced, Uma Musume—possessing bodies more resilient than humans—were given priority consideration.
Earth volunteered without hesitation.
The reason was simple: she wanted to deliver sound herself.
“Ah, of course, the magnificent record created by the Scienziato is more than worthy of preserving Earth’s musica. But shouldn’t audiences beyond the stars be given a chance to experience it vivo—live?”
Her passion, and her musical sensibilities, impressed the scientists enough to select her as an astronaut. Her mission was clear: to encounter intelligent life somewhere in space, share the sounds of Earth—and return safely.
For the past hundred days, Earth had been studying how to transmit sound in space. Sound, after all, is the propagation of vibration through matter. For those vibrations to resonate, they require a medium—something to carry them.
On Earth, that role is played by air and water. But in the vacuum of space, there is nothing.
“So even a loudspeaker would be meaningless…”
Creating an artificial medium outside the spacecraft was both limited and inefficient. Ideally, she would invite an outsider inside the vessel—but the risks were impossible to ignore.
They might be too large. Or too small. They might emit harmful substances. They might damage the ship’s systems.
And beyond that, there was the issue of hearing. Humans can perceive frequencies from roughly 20 to 20,000 hertz. Uma Musume, slightly more. Whales, on the other hand, communicate using infrasound and ultrasound far beyond human perception.
Even among life on Earth, the differences were this great. If extraterrestrials possessed entirely different senses—or none at all—
Then the attempt itself would be meaningless.
“And yet… music isn’t something you hear only with your ears. Isn’t that right, amore?”
The one Earth spoke to out of habit was a single maraca drifting in midair. It had once belonged to someone precious to her—she had brought only one with her. Time had quieted it compared to the days it had been used, but whenever it bumped softly against a wall, it answered with a gentle shaka.
What Earth wanted to convey was the emotion of music. Somewhere out there in the universe, she wanted someone—something—to feel that this kind of beauty existed.
After repeated experimentation, she had devised several instruments.
First, the space drum. An instrument that transmitted vibration through impact—upon contact, one could feel its deep, pounding beat. It was perfect for conveying rhythm, one of the fundamental elements of music, but lacked the ability to express rich melody.
Next, the synthesizer. A system that converted sheet music into electromagnetic signals. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t sound, but data—something like an unstable translator. How it would be interpreted by the recipient was impossible to predict.
She had tried other methods as well—vibrating plasma, manipulating magnetic fields—but all of them still felt far removed from the “music” she sought.
Then, the alarm signaling bedtime rang out.
“Phew… I suppose that’s enough for today.”
Reluctantly, Earth organized her research notes. Progress had been minimal, as always. To clear her thoughts, she picked up the small globe. With a light tap of her fingertip, the blue sphere began to spin. She watched it for a while—then gently stilled it.
By coincidence, it stopped on the country she had come from.
Such a tiny patch of land—no bigger than a fingernail. How much laughter and tears had it held? Now she traveled a universe beyond comparison in scale, and yet somewhere deep within, she always found herself longing for that small, distant point.
Earth took out her violin. Playing a piece before sleep had become her daily ritual.
Tonight’s selection: Johann Sebastian Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 2, First Movement—the very first track recorded on the Golden Record. A lively melody filled the cabin. From time to time, the maraca chimed in—shaka, shaka—like a quiet accompaniment.
The loneliest concerto in the universe continued for four minutes… and thirty-three seconds more.
The next day.
As usual, she had finished her transmission and was listening to the Golden Record.
Something was… off.
It was a difference too subtle to put into words, but Earth’s finely tuned ears caught it at once. Between one sound and the next—within the smallest of gaps—there was a fracture. A faint noise slipped into those tiny intervals, peeking out for a moment before vanishing the instant she tried to listen for it.
Was the system malfunctioning? Unlikely. The disc had been built to endure something close to eternity. It wouldn’t degrade after a mere hundred plays.
Then the turntable? That, too, was constructed from the most durable alloys on Earth. The needle was replaced at regular intervals. There should have been no issue.
Earth replayed the track again. And again. Each time, the noise appeared in a different place.
Carefully, she began recording the intervals—tracking their pattern.
And then, suddenly, she understood.
It wasn’t noise.
It was a message.
“There should be reference data for this somewhere…”
Among the vast archive she had brought from Earth were countless contingencies—knowledge prepared for the unknown. Assigning dots to short gaps, and dashes to longer ones, Earth worked through the sequence. Before long, she had deciphered a simple phrase.
“Three… two… one. Lift-off…?”
It wasn’t coincidence. The signal matched perfectly with international Morse code.
She blinked, stunned.
And then— The turntable crackled again. This time, the noise was clearer.
“…Let’s talk.”
One thing was certain.
Something—
someone—
was interfering with the spacecraft.
Her tail bristled. At the thought that an unknown entity had reached out first, excitement and fear surged through her at once. Instinct told her to run—but curiosity won out.
“…Besides, I’m not exactly confident I could outrun it.”
Steadying herself, Earth pulled up the extraterrestrial contact manual. It laid out detailed procedures for a wide range of scenarios.
“First, determine intent. Assess hostility… In that case, I suppose communication is the only option.”
Since the other party had used Morse code, she decided to respond in kind. Earth took out a keyboard instrument, linking it to the spacecraft’s external transmission system. Carefully, she pressed the keys.
Four short.
A pause, then one more.
Short, long, short, short.
The same sequence once again.
And finally, three long.
In notation, it would read:
♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ | ♪ | ♪ ♩ ♪ ♪ | ♪ ♩ ♪ ♪ | ♩ ♩ ♩
It corresponded to HELLO in Morse code.
Time passed—
an eternity.
Then, a reply.
“Proposing a friendly ‘contact’… ‘Pleased to meet you’?”
It seemed the extraterrestrial entity had decided this method of communication was far too slow.
“But… how?”
At that moment—
knock, knock, knock.
A sound, tapping from somewhere.
Earth looked up.
Beyond the round window—where there should have been nothing but pitch-black space—
A blonde girl with blue eyes smiled softly.
[Day 102 of the voyage.]
[This is Sounds of Earth.
Something unexpected has happened. If what I’m seeing isn’t a dream… then I believe I’ve made contact with the first extraterrestrial lifeform.
That person—no, that being—
She looks, astonishingly enough… like Neo Universe.
Mamma mia…]
With half-dazed consent from Earth, “Neo Universe” warped into the spacecraft.
In other words—she teleported.
She seemed perfectly at ease in zero gravity, drifting lightly through the air as she explored the instruments on board with quiet curiosity. A few times, she spoke—but it wasn’t a language Earth could understand.
Communicating through Morse code would take far too long.
Then…
Earth picked up her violin.
Music is a universal language. Would it carry across the galaxy as well?
She drew the bow carefully across the strings, and a gentle melody flowed out.
Salut d’Amour. A greeting of love.
Universe’s eyes widened. She stayed perfectly still until the piece ended, holding her breath. Now and then, her antenna-like ears twitched.
At last, the music faded. Universe broke into a smile, her tail swaying softly. Did she like it? Earth smiled back.
“Universe… may I call you that? Welcome aboard our ship.”
Earth extended her hand. Universe blinked—then took it.
At that moment—
“Confirming Sounds of Earth ‘signal.’”
The unknown language… became meaning.
“Will this… be enough to ‘convey’?”
It was a voice Earth knew.
“Ah—Universe…! Yes, it came through. Perfectly!”
“…‘CONT’… reached. Neo Universe is… ‘happy.’”
Her gentle smile— in every way, she looked just like the Universe Earth had known.
“Universe… there’s something I’d like to ask.”
After a short exchange, Earth learned several things.
This being was not the same Universe from Earth—yet they had communicated before, through something she called “contact.” She had recognized Earth as a being from that world, and had attempted to “interfere.”
“But in a universe this vast… how did you find me?”
“Sounds of Earth ‘SEDAM’… a sound that ‘reaches.’”
Universe pointed to the violin.
“‘GDAE’ sound… ‘quasar.’”
The violin strings are tuned to G–D–A–E. Universe had heard its song—resonating through space.
Earth adjusted her grip on the bow, gently.
“Did you enjoy that? Would you care for another piece, signorina?”
“Affirmative. ‘Please.’”
More at ease now, Earth began to play again. ‘On the Day the Cosmos Was Born’. A piece she had once composed for the Universe back on Earth.
A tail of gold and blue swayed softly to the rhythm—like a metronome, like a pendulum.
“Spira… very Spira.”
Her music was getting through.
Universe spun lightly in the air, unable to contain her joy. Her ears trembled with it.
“Hehe… seeing you enjoy it makes me happy as well.”
A warmth spread across Earth’s face.
Then, an alarm sounded. Earth startled, glancing at the clock. It was already time to sleep.
“Oh dear… I have to turn in for the night.” Her brows drooped slightly.
“‘JAM.’… Neo Universe ‘sending’ signal.”
As if remembering something, Universe straightened. She floated closer—then gently pressed her forehead against Earth’s.
“10000010010… ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“…Hm?”
“Neo Universe will say… ‘congratulations.’”
One hundred and two days since leaving Earth. The launch had been on New Year’s Day—so today’s date…
“…You came all this way… just to say that?”
“Affirmative. This is what all Neo Universes ‘convey.’ Recipient… child of destiny.”
Universe took her hand. Blink— And in the next instant—
A sea of stars unfolded before her eyes.
They stood in the vastness of space. And yet, she wasn’t afraid. Because there was warmth, right there in her grasp.
Countless stars shimmered within those blue eyes.
“…! I’m so happy, Universe—who would have thought a birthday gift could be the night sky itself!”
“Can you hear it? ‘SOND’… the ‘sound’ of stars.”
Earth listened carefully. Faintly—so very faintly— Something resonated.
A melody?
No… a harmony.
Countless stars, overlapping, forming a vast and beautiful chorus.
Space had never been empty. If anything—
“…I see. What fills this place… is the breath of the universe.”
The stars flickered.
Their blinking—rhythm.
Their light—sound.
The universe itself was a single, colossal organ.
“Neo Universe’s planetarium… did it make Sounds of Earth ‘happy’?”
“Si…!” Earth swallowed a trembling breath.
“‘Melodia’… did you ‘hear’ it?”
She nodded, overwhelmed. The stars in her eyes shone even brighter.
“Yes…! To me, it’s a wondrous canzone—a night sky that sings…!”
“Wanted to ‘share’… to ‘know’ is ‘connect’… that is Spira.”
Their eyes met—bright, gentle blue. Familiar. Longing.
Something trembled deep within her chest.
“Grazie—”
It was…
“Grazie infinite…!”
A feeling, utterly—
Spira.
[Day 103 of the voyage.]
[Ciao. This is Sounds of Earth.
The mission has been successfully completed.
There are so many things I want to tell you when I return.
I want to see you again, as soon as possible, amore.
When that day comes—
let’s have the most beautiful session in the universe.
P.S. Could you pass a message along to Universe? Tell her—even if I’m late, I’ll bring her the finest birthday gift of all.]