The Beacon

The polar bear trudged through the Arctic, snow crunching beneath its mammoth paws. Its swaying gait propelling it slowly but surely forward along a path it had not chosen for itself.

There was something in the air. Something that was leading it, as surely as if it was being pulled by a chain. The great bear could feel it. An electrical impulse that made its fur tingle - not with pain, but with anticipation. The bear had felt it since the previous night, starting on its journey then, the destination of which being completely unknown.

The animal rumbled on.

Hours passed.

The bear saw no other animals on its journey, or if it did, it paid them no heed.

Suddenly, the bear became more alert. The impulses increased and got stronger. The end of the journey was near.

The bear came to the edge of a crater. It was about fifty feet wide and almost six feet deep. The crisp whiteness had been scarred black by the object lying at its centre. The source of the impulses and the cause of the bears unknown journey. The huge bear looked down at the strange object. It had never seen anything like it. After a moments cautionary pause, the bear carefully stepped over the lip of the crater and worked its way to the centre.

The object was round and about the size of a basketball. It was metal, though the bear had no idea what ‘metal’ was. It was shining like polished silver, reflecting the snow around it and making it glow even brighter, so bright that even the bear began to squint at its harsh glare. The electrical impulses grew stronger still, and now even hummed. The bear sniffed at it, trying to decide if it was edible or not. It did not seem to be. It checked further, opening its mouth and trying to grasp it with lethal teeth. Whatever this strange material was, it was not meat. Now, the bear started to pat at it with its massive paws.

The strange object did not move.

And the impulses were getting stronger.

The bear was disappointed. It felt, though it was unaware of the name of such a feeling, that the long journey it had undertaken had been completely wasted. There was no great result. No food. No mate. Nothing. It did not connect the strange thing with the events of the previous night. When the darkness was shattered by a scar of light crossing the velvet sky, almost ripping it in two.

A meteor.

When it hit the atmosphere, the flash turned night into day, if only for a moment, before the night returned. It was then the impulses began. A beacon, that, despite all humankind's advances in technology, could not be detected.

But a beacon it was, echoing out into the cosmos, calling to a distant menace that now moved with savage purpose.

On Earth, the bear, aggrieved, gave up on the object and started to move away, its ears twitching at the strange impulses that plucked at them still. The bear now wanted to get away from the odd sounds and feelings, no longer attracted by them. Now, it only wanted to eat. It walked on, enveloped by the pure white of the snow.

And still, the impulses continued.