A Close Encounter of the Third Kind

The scientists were amazed. It was so quick for them to establish communication after the first craft had landed. They were able to keep the military away at arms-length because the aliens had made their benevolence very clear. The scientists had always thought if communications between humans and extra-terrestrials were to ever occur, mathematics would be the catalyst between the two beings. Yet, these aliens communicated via music. The most outspoken (and some would also say, baselessly self-important) of the group of scientists would argue that music itself was simply a form of mathematics combined with physics and nothing more, but the rest knew it was of a higher level of human existence and creativity than that - it was innate to our human existence and civilization. It was spiritual. It was a part of our DNA.

Once basic words were feverishly worked out via musical notes between the excited beings, real communication began. Observers could see the burgeoning excitement of the sharing of knowledge - the vast distance between their galaxies evaporated between alien and human. The aliens seemed to know a little about us, a little bit about our history, and yet we knew nothing of them until they landed their monstrously huge and metallically sleek spaceship in the middle of Liverpool, England the week before.

At last, a question was formulated somewhat clunkily from the aliens, but with its intention immediately known,"Humans, our minds would now like to be in the presence of your geniuses."

The loud-mouthed scientist immediately boasted, "Well, that would be us!"

"Not necessarily, Professor Drumpf, they could mean someone far superior to us, of which there are many," chimed in the head of the group, "Did you mean someone such as Steven Hawking? He's the most intelligent human on our planet," she said, addressing the aliens directly while cutting off Professor Drumpf so that the flustered awkwardness felt by the rest of the group was minimised.

"Stephen Hawking? We know not of him."

"If you mean Einstein, he's dead," grumped Drumpf, snidely.

"The Einstein we already know of. Passed him in Outer Sector before we turned into the Milky Way Super Highway. Human of great mind. Directed us to your planet. Xyykz had lost his way." The smaller of the two aliens looked embarrassed. At least, as embarrassed as an alien from a far away galaxy could look like.

"You saw Einstein??? You spoke to him??? But he's dead!" chirped the nerdiest of the group on the human side of the table.

"Yes, yes," the larger alien hummed impatiently, "Matter transferral through parallel universes. You not know this? All living beings continually move on in the Spiritual Universe despite experiencing lives in physical form." The alien then turned to his colleague, "Humans still primitive of spiritual sciences despite developing music. Strange."

The larger alien looked at the group of humans earnestly. He leaned forward and spoke with added emotion along with flying tentacles in order to get his point across (he'd seen it on a human soap opera once).

"We want to meld minds with the most impressive of human intellects. Those who shaped your civilization with their unique skills. Humans who were in touch with the universe and whose wisdom spans all of the known galaxies."

The scientists literally scratched their heads. Who did the aliens mean? If not a fellow scientist, then who? Perhaps an politician?

No.

Definitely not.

A historian? A philosopher? A teacher? An author? An astronaut? They threw names of humans living and passed, all notable, all academics, all talented, all wise, in one way or another. The aliens said no at each suggestion.

Someone divinely spiritual? The Pope? The Dalai Lama? 

The aliens shook their heads.

"Who?!!" the scientists exasperated in unison.

"We want to meet The Lennon and The McCartney."