I pay homage to Earth's starry skies, cherish the lights in a thousand homes, and am awestruck by a fleeting glimpse of the stunning beauty hidden in the Mariana Trench beneath the blue ocean.
An alien civilization that has crossed the stars and witnessed countless civilizations rise and fall sees Earthlings drilling in the deep sea, cutting down forests, overfishing, and starting wars.
It becomes a “mirror,” not a “judge.”
Dumping oil into the ocean? Let humanity experience the suffocation of a seabird covered in oil.
Burning the Amazon? Let humanity feel the “memories” of a tree releasing the carbon it has stored for a hundred years as it burns.
Those who ask questions are Earth's guardians:
the child who asks, “Why are the glaciers melting?”; the scientist who asks, “Why are whales beaching themselves?”; the philosopher who asks, “Why must we consume so much?”
The aliens become postmen, delivering questions. The alien civilization watches as the people of Earth awaken again and again and repair their home. It sees the most beautiful human warmth, where love goes hand in hand with companionship.
The postmen continue their work for three hundred million years, until Earth is destroyed and humanity once again sets foot on another new world among the stars, opened up through wisdom and love.
The alien civilization lights a lamp in the abyss, then waits.
It waits for wise Earthlings to create a story like The Deep-Sea Postman, one that seeks truth through fiction and touches taboos through imagination.
The alien civilization says, “Please keep writing until the moment the people of Earth awaken. May everyone become a lamp along the postal route, choosing to swim toward the light.”
Humanity will strive to become “a harmonious song of the universe.”
Chen Mo's final words:
Every question asked in the dead of night, every gaze turned toward nature, is a step toward the light.
