Amidst a sea of nothing travel two lone messengers. Messengers all but guaranteed to reach nobody.
They are the Voyagers, 1 and 2, carrying a Golden Record each. Onto this record have been recorded sounds and images, showcasing the nature and culture of our planet, as well as succinct explanations of our knowledge and our systems. Engraved on the golden disks are instructions for assembly and playback. Everything about this unambiguously abstract, tailored to the most vague definition of intelligence.
It contains greetings in many different languages, including Whale. Ambience plucked from the broad array of locations on this tiny ball of earth. And music, classics from varied cultures. A complete package of historical and modern beauty. Because we’re here, we can listen to it all. But life out there, it will have to get lucky. Impossibly lucky.
Still, it’s oddly hopeful. We found it worth our effort to, along with our endless supply of junk, send a meaningful part of ourselves out there. To make sure our information could be decoded, even if that meant requiring many of our senses of whatever intelligent life may stumble upon it in the far future. Like dropping a bottled message into the deepest and darkest ocean, never expecting it to reach someone, but always hoping it does.
A message without recipient can still be worth sending.