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Hijo, hoy te voy a mostrar algo que ha permanecido como herencia de nuestra familia desde generaciones enteras. No estoy muy seguro de donde proviene, pero mi padre, y su padre antes que el, aseguran que de un tiempo anterior a que los hombres conquistaran las galaxias, mucho antes de la división del imperio y mas allá de toda memoria escrita.
Me pregunto que clase de objeto es
Oh no, no es ningún objeto, nada hubiese podido sobrevivir tantos millones de anos sin deteriorarse. Es una canción.
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Dos técnicos se encontraban delante de una especie de armario de color blanco, en una enorme sala llena de ellos cuyo final no parecía apreciarse a simple vista. Nos encontramos bajo tierra, varios kilómetros bajo la tierra de unos de los planetas que constituyeron el corazón tecnológico y cultural de lo antiguamente conocido como Imperio.
- Ya está, esta seguramente sera la ultima copia de seguridad nunca hecha de todos los archivos pertenecientes a los tiempos primitivos.
- Es una pena, aunque nadie consulte nunca esto, son necesarios miles de millones de anos de esfuerzos para mantener viva toda la cultura, por nimia que sea en comparación, de los primeros instantes de nuestra especie, pero solo unos siglos de irresponsabilidad para que se pierda para siempre en el olvido.
- Me pregunto de que hablarían esas gentes, tan al principio de los tiempos.
Pero su compañero seguía con sus disquisiciones políticas.
- Es que no me creo por ningún lado que no haya presupuesto, que es en comparación unos pocos hetzabites de información con toda la información inútil que se amacena diariamente.
- No se trata del presupuesto, es el desencanto general, la perdida progresiva del sentido común de humanidad.
- Eso ha sonado muy filosófico.
- Pero es verdad, si no hubiese sido ahora hubiese sido dentro de mil anos, pero algún momento tenia que ocurrir. La humanidad esta cansada de vivir, y de recordar, hay demasiado dolor en el pasado.
- Otra explicación es que simplemente a nadie le interesa lo que hacemos.
- ¿Es que tu, has mirado leído o escuchado alguna vez alguno de los archivos que hay aquí realmente, algún libro, articulo, imagen, fragmento del gran conocimiento a punto de ser para siempre perdido y que aparentemente tan importante te resulta ahora mismo?
- Bueno, siempre hay una primera vez.
- Y una última. Que te parece este archivo, es un audio en un viejo formato y tiene misteriosamente alguna reproducción, no como ese gran mar de ceros y ceros. ¿Le damos una oportunidad?
- Quizás tenga algo de especial.
- O quizás sea solo una anomalía o tenga coordenadas probables para el sistema Fischer de reproducción aleatoria.
- Quizás.
- ¿Que te ha parecido?
- Es difícil de decir, no se parece a nada de lo que ahora entendemos como música, es como...
- Arcaica, primitiva. No entiendo casi ninguna de las palabras, y pensado asi, es bastante mas razonable que nadie quiera asumir esfuerzos en mantener algo que nunca vaya a poder leerse otra vez.
- Si, pero también tenia algo de, mística, no sabría como expresarlo.
- Era rara, ¿verdad?
- Muy rara.
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-You're lucky to been born in a place like this.
- Why?
- You have much to learn yet, but dont worry you will have time, plenty of time. When we discovered the secret of aging, people would like to live forever, like a dream and a never fading star and see the history in front of our eyes. But slowly, like the galaxy himself, soner or later, we grow tired.
- I dont see the relation between this planet and that.
- Thats why I am here, I am tired, I gave up the life science got me. I've been lonely too long after my father left us. This planet is the kind of planet olding people retire to die. Its lovely, i wonder if it its caracteristics have something to do with the hearth of human being. I dont know why, the green, the water, the sea and the inestable atmosphere, missing in the usual terraformed planets. This one is natural, and yet seems rarely suitable for us. We feel home, even if we didnt been born here, You're lucky to have a place like this called home, and we retiring here is the proof.
- I see, this is indeed a beatiful palace. Its not like the green cold stone ones, the ones where most people live. I should, but i dont know if I would to really go there. Its a world of decay, where only envy and evil grow.
- You will, and you will do well. You have to live your life. Make a difference up there, let the life and magic of this place flow through those mazes of metal shroud.
- You won't be here when i come back, am I right?
- I fear I wont, but dont be afraid of death like primitives were. No, i dont come here to die but to part ways with death.
- You were like a father to me.
The old man started to cry, the last in his own legacy. He excused himself, but instead of just hide their tears he cursed himself for not doing this before, and came back with some strange object, never seen in thousands of years.
- Like if you were my son, i will pass you my deal, the one my father, and his father before him passed away and now vanished from existance.
- What the hell is that... thing
- Thats the solution of the problem. My deal used to be a file, now forever lost, in the void of random access memory decay. It contained a song, a really old one, wich, lucky us, i memorized long ago. Its not the original, but adapted to the likes of this object and my dirty old voice, will do the thing. Get ready
- So, what do you think?
- Its... like really really strange. I dont know what to say. I cant understand most of the words, and the song itelf its strange, mysterious. Do they talk about the original planet, the primitive times?
- Maybe. I cant comprehend most of it, like you, I only memorized the sounds. Do you liked it? Im impressed, you can apreciate something that complex and distant from our age. So diferent from today's sounds.
- Of course I liked it. Play it again! Please!
- No, its too late, im too old, and the song is too long; and you have an important trip tomorrow
- Please...
- I am too tired, sorry. it doesnt matter how many times I play it, I should had teached you this song ages ago, you wont remember it anyway from just one more play.
- I will remember it! I will always remember it! Just one last time!
- Woah.
- Now, go home before your parents start worrying about and blaming me afterwards.
- One last question.
- One last time, one last question... Cmon, say it!
- What does the song mean.
- I already said I dont know, tho long I though about it when in my youth...
- Then what do you think, what do you think it does mean?
And then the old man, knowing that it will be maybe the last time that song is heard, talked of or even remembered, looked at his young friend, released at the dark times of the fading galaxy, and saw life. Then, after a brief moment, turned and looked up, and saw in the starry night how all he really knows, and the primitive man also know, that all he ever lived and witness although vast and atemporal; its only a gasp, a single note, lost in the future history of the cosmos.
- I think, my son.
I think it is a song of Hope.
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