Dearest Soul Mate on Vega 8,
. .. .. .. ..………----------/////////////////////Transmission Start///////////////////////////
Dearest Soul Mate on Vega 8,
I beam this crystal letter to you as I leave my solar system and travel towards yours. Soon I will sleep, sleep for 4 of my earth years, to voyage to you.
Since seeing your name print out, I have spared no moment and have hastily tidied my affairs to spare no moment in meeting you. After the numerous years of testing and calculation, you can see why their can now be no delay.
All is electromagnetic as we know, and now that the Intergalactic Dating Service can match people on the subatomic level, there is no more guess work. You have been transmitting your destiny to me since before you were born, and I was receiving before my birth. We are interstellar collections of agreeable matter, the very minute stuff dreams are made of, seeking each other out to bind to higher and higher refinements of patterns to live out our shared half lives, all to the still being discovered laws of the universe.
But it is sure, ever since the static of the cosmos was decoded and found to be romantic odes, stranger and more beautiful than anything by Pindar, that as the early prophetess said, “For every Man there is a Woman, and every Woman a Man.” With the higher biophysics now applied, we now know this is true, and where on the X,Y,Z, Z1, axis’s our soul mate resides. No pressure of course, but with a 99.99999% to the 100th power satisfaction match rate, I’m sure you share my optimism.
Vega 8 is farther than usual for most matches to travel, and only tenuously explored, but what is a few million light years to find the one you love? You will receive this shortly before I arrive, perhaps you could think of a few things for us to do on your home planet when I arrive, to help us to get to know each other?
Across the Universe,
Ned Lem Tuttle
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\Transmission End\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\------------………… . . . .
Ned Lem Tuttle broke through the hermosphere, and piloted his probe down to the coordinates which appeared as a grassy glen. Ned worked the control lever with his right hand, as he shaved with his left. Touching down, he blasted off the cockpit and bolted onto the ground. He said out loud softly, “Fresh.” The mint implants in his teeth released a mouth freshener. He walked a little bit from the craft giving verbal commands to his hair styling and deodorant implants as he looked around.
Ned saw a tree in the middle of the glen. He grabbed his roses and walked towards it.
Ned commanded his sweat sponge implants to wipe up the sweat that was collecting on his forehead.
It was peaceful and still, a slight breeze was blowing, moving limbs and branches sleepily among the sun beams. And then she stepped out from behind the tree, and then stepped out a little more, and again.
Ned Lem Tuttle’s breath was pulled out of him like the tide going out, leaving his mind open and unprotected to what he saw. She was, what he could only describe as something between a Centaur, Spider and Greek statue of a goddess. Long multi-color strands of hair fell from her head past her third set of shoulders, her face and neck were equine, but delicate, her magnificent torso met her long belly which unfolded into 4 pairs of legs, 8 individual dancer legs with knee highs, seamed at her pelvis by a different colored thong. She stood there, her head tilted, all eight delicate arms folded across her chest as she chewed at her lip and considered, Ned Lem Tuttle, the earth man who sent her the letter recently.
“So your Ned?”
Ned nodded, and then the tide came back in bringing with it some breath for vocalization, “y-y-yes, I’m Ned.”
She put her head down a little bit, and said obliquely, “Your electro-phrenic profile said you’re a leg man-that true?” And her eyes flashed up to see his response.
Ned nodded, “y-y-Yeah, that’s true.”
She smiled, “I think we’ll do just fine then.”
Dearest Soul Mate on Vega 8,
I beam this crystal letter to you as I leave my solar system and travel towards yours. Soon I will sleep, sleep for 4 of my earth years, to voyage to you.
Since seeing your name print out, I have spared no moment and have hastily tidied my affairs to spare no moment in meeting you. After the numerous years of testing and calculation, you can see why their can now be no delay.
All is electromagnetic as we know, and now that the Intergalactic Dating Service can match people on the subatomic level, there is no more guess work. You have been transmitting your destiny to me since before you were born, and I was receiving before my birth. We are interstellar collections of agreeable matter, the very minute stuff dreams are made of, seeking each other out to bind to higher and higher refinements of patterns to live out our shared half lives, all to the still being discovered laws of the universe.
But it is sure, ever since the static of the cosmos was decoded and found to be romantic odes, stranger and more beautiful than anything by Pindar, that as the early prophetess said, “For every Man there is a Woman, and every Woman a Man.” With the higher biophysics now applied, we now know this is true, and where on the X,Y,Z, Z1, axis’s our soul mate resides. No pressure of course, but with a 99.99999% to the 100th power satisfaction match rate, I’m sure you share my optimism.
Vega 8 is farther than usual for most matches to travel, and only tenuously explored, but what is a few million light years to find the one you love? You will receive this shortly before I arrive, perhaps you could think of a few things for us to do on your home planet when I arrive, to help us to get to know each other?
Across the Universe,
Ned Lem Tuttle
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\Transmission End\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\------------………… . . . .
Ned Lem Tuttle broke through the hermosphere, and piloted his probe down to the coordinates which appeared as a grassy glen. Ned worked the control lever with his right hand, as he shaved with his left. Touching down, he blasted off the cockpit and bolted onto the ground. He said out loud softly, “Fresh.” The mint implants in his teeth released a mouth freshener. He walked a little bit from the craft giving verbal commands to his hair styling and deodorant implants as he looked around.
Ned saw a tree in the middle of the glen. He grabbed his roses and walked towards it.
Ned commanded his sweat sponge implants to wipe up the sweat that was collecting on his forehead.
It was peaceful and still, a slight breeze was blowing, moving limbs and branches sleepily among the sun beams. And then she stepped out from behind the tree, and then stepped out a little more, and again.
Ned Lem Tuttle’s breath was pulled out of him like the tide going out, leaving his mind open and unprotected to what he saw. She was, what he could only describe as something between a Centaur, Spider and Greek statue of a goddess. Long multi-color strands of hair fell from her head past her third set of shoulders, her face and neck were equine, but delicate, her magnificent torso met her long belly which unfolded into 4 pairs of legs, 8 individual dancer legs with knee highs, seamed at her pelvis by a different colored thong. She stood there, her head tilted, all eight delicate arms folded across her chest as she chewed at her lip and considered, Ned Lem Tuttle, the earth man who sent her the letter recently.
“So your Ned?”
Ned nodded, and then the tide came back in bringing with it some breath for vocalization, “y-y-yes, I’m Ned.”
She put her head down a little bit, and said obliquely, “Your electro-phrenic profile said you’re a leg man-that true?” And her eyes flashed up to see his response.
Ned nodded, “y-y-Yeah, that’s true.”
She smiled, “I think we’ll do just fine then.”