Part I: The Arrival
The ship landed without ceremony on a Tuesday afternoon.
Dr. Marcus Hayes, director of the Caribbean Sustainability Coalition, had expected something more dramatic for humanity’s first contact with an alien intelligence. Instead, there was just a slight shimmer in the air above the conference center’s lawn, and then it was there – a vessel of impossible geometry that seemed to both reflect and absorb the tropical sunlight.
The delegate emerged alone, humanoid but distinctly other – taller, with skin that shifted subtly like the surface of water. The United Nations had hastily assembled a welcome committee of world leaders, scientists, and cultural representatives. They waited nervously as the being approached.
“I am Xan,” it said in perfect English. “I have come to observe.”
That was three months ago. Now, Xan sat across from Marcus in a modest conference room at the World Council headquarters, watching with those unsettling opalescent eyes as humans argued about food.
“I don’t understand,” Xan said, interrupting the heated debate between a hotel executive and an environmental scientist. “You all agree that one-third of your food is wasted while many go hungry. You agree this creates methane that warms your atmosphere. Yet you speak as if you are enemies.”
The room fell silent. The assembled experts – who had been invited to brief the visitor on Earth’s sustainability challenges – looked uncomfortably at one another.
“It’s complicated,” offered James, the former kitchen manager from MGM Grand Resorts. “We’ve developed a successful program using blast chillers to rescue prepared meals. Five million meals since 2016. But scaling it requires investment, coordination-“
“Infrastructure we don’t have in most communities,” interrupted Rosa, the community organizer from Denver. “These corporate solutions ignore the reality on the ground.”
“Actually,” the climate scientist Dr. Chen began, “if we analyze the emissions reduction potential-“
Xan raised a hand, and something about the gesture silenced them all.
“On my world,” Xan said, “we have a concept untranslatable in your languages. The closest approximation is ‘to grok’ – to understand so thoroughly that the observer becomes a part of the observed. I do not grok your division.”
Marcus watched as the alien stood and walked to the window overlooking the Caribbean Sea. He had been skeptical when the UN assigned this particular first contact to the World Council. What did a regional sustainability organization have to do with extraterrestrial diplomacy? But the visitor had specifically requested to understand how humans addressed collective challenges.
“Perhaps,” Marcus suggested, “we could show rather than tell. Would you like to see these different approaches in action?”
Xan turned, those strange eyes seeming to assess something beyond the visible. “Yes. I would like to grok your solutions.”
Part II: The Languages of Solution
They started in Las Vegas. Against all protocol, Xan insisted on walking the service corridors of the massive resort rather than taking the VIP entrance. James led them through the kitchen during peak dinner service – a choreographed chaos of chefs, servers, and steaming food.
“Here,” James said, pointing to an industrial machine in the corner. “The blast chiller. When we first started, nobody imagined what would happen. The food bank discovered old equipment in their new building and asked if we’d run a test. One hotel, then five, then twenty. Even when they pulled out during the pandemic, we kept going.”
Xan approached the machine, studying it with those unsettling eyes.
“A technical solution,” the alien observed. “But I sense it is more than the machine.”
James smiled. “Exactly. It’s the system around it – the training, the protocols, the relationships with community organizations. That’s why we’ve rescued five million meals since 2016.”
“And why has this not spread to all your world’s hunger zones?” Xan asked.
Before James could answer, Dr. Chen stepped forward with her tablet. “Cost-benefit analysis shows-“
Xan raised a hand again. “No numbers yet. I want to grok the whole.”
—
Two days later, they stood in a community center kitchen in Denver. Children played basketball in the adjacent gym while Rosa showed them a much smaller blast chiller.
“We couldn’t afford the industrial version,” she explained. “But we realized churches, schools, and community centers all have commercial kitchens sitting empty most hours. This unit cost less than $10,000 instead of millions for a new facility.”
Xan observed as volunteers unloaded food from a local restaurant.
“You speak a different language than James,” the alien noted, “yet you use the same tool.”
Rosa nodded. “The difference is who controls it, who benefits. Our approach is community-owned.”
“Another piece of the elephant,” Xan murmured, using a phrase they had taught the visitor earlier.
—
On the third stop, they visited a Caribbean resort island. Maria from the tourism board showed them cruise ships and hotel buffets where excess food was generated daily.
“Our challenge is different,” she explained. “Tourism creates abundance and scarcity side by side. The hotels worry about liability, about their brand. Communities need nutrition, not charity.”
Xan watched silently as she showed spreadsheets of potential food rescue.
“You speak the language of markets and reputation,” the alien observed.
“It’s the language decision-makers understand here,” Maria acknowledged.
—
Their final visit took them to a small indigenous community where Elder Tomas welcomed them with a ceremonial meal.
“In our way,” he explained, “food is relation. When we harvest, we thank the plant. When we share, we strengthen bonds. What you call ‘food waste’ we see as broken relationship.”
He showed them simple practices – community kitchens where neighbors cooked together, preservation techniques passed through generations, ceremonies that honored the cycles of growth and decay.
“You speak the language of relationship,” Xan observed.
“The oldest language,” Elder Tomas replied.
Part III: The Tower of Babel
Back in the World Council conference room, Xan stood before a wall where they had mapped each approach.
“On my world,” the alien said, “we have a myth about a time when all beings spoke the same language. They built a tower reaching to the stars, but then forgot why they built it. They began to hear each other’s same words as different languages. The tower fell.”
The group exchanged glances. “We have a similar story,” Marcus said. “The Tower of Babel.”
“Perhaps,” Xan suggested, “all worlds discover the same truth – that division begins not when we speak different languages, but when we forget how to translate.”
The alien turned to the assembled experts. “Each of you touches a different part of the elephant. The technical solution. The community control. The market incentives. The relational wisdom. But you speak as if these are competing rather than complementing.”
James from MGM shifted uncomfortably. “So what do we do? We can’t all become experts in every approach.”
“On my world,” Xan said, “we have specialized roles too. But we also have Translators – those who learn enough of each language to help different knowledge systems work together.”
“Like an interdisciplinary team,” Dr. Chen suggested.
“More,” Xan replied. “Interdisciplinary teams still prioritize one language – usually data or technology. Translators hold multiple ways of knowing as equally valid.”
“That sounds like what I learned at The Regenesis Institute’s TRP Program” Marcus interjected. “Systems thinking that integrates different perspectives rather than forcing them to compete, allowing a higher order of understanding to unfold.”
Xan seemed to shimmer slightly, a reaction they had come to recognize as interest. “Yes. Some humans already understand this approach.”
Part IV: The Council of Translators
“I propose an experiment,” Xan announced.
The alien moved to the center of the room, motioning for everyone to form a circle.
“Each of you will become a Translator for your approach. Not to advocate for it above others, but to help others understand its wisdom and limitations.”
Xan assigned them to mixed groups, ensuring each contained technical, community, market, and relational perspectives. Their challenge: design a food rescue system for Caribbean tourism destinations that incorporated all approaches.
“Remember,” Xan instructed, “the goal is not compromise where everyone gives up something. The goal is integration where each approach strengthens the others.”
Marcus watched with growing fascination as the groups worked. Initial tensions gave way to curiosity. Technical experts asked about community ownership. Community organizers explored market incentives. Everyone listened to indigenous wisdom about cycles and relationships.
By afternoon, something remarkable had emerged. Not four competing proposals, but a single integrated approach:
A network of community-owned blast chillers installed in existing kitchens throughout tourism destinations. Resort staff trained in food rescue protocols. Market incentives for participating businesses, including reduced waste hauling costs and sustainability certification. Community celebrations that honored both the giving and receiving of food, transforming charity into relationship.
“This,” Xan observed, “is what it means to grok the elephant.”
Part V: The Departure
One year later, Marcus stood on the same lawn where Xan had first arrived. The alien’s ship had that same impossible geometry, both there and not there.
“You’re really leaving?” Marcus asked.
“My observation is complete,” Xan replied. “And your Council of Translators no longer needs my outsider perspective.”
In twelve months, their experiment had spread beyond the Caribbean to twelve countries throughout the Americas. Over two million meals rescued. Hundreds of community-owned blast chillers installed in existing kitchens. But more importantly, a new way of working across differences.
“What was your real mission here?” Marcus finally asked the question that had nagged him for months.
Xan’s skin rippled in what they had come to recognize as amusement. “In your science fiction, aliens always come to conquer or save humans. The truth is simpler. We come to learn.”
“And what did you learn from us?” Marcus pressed.
“That division is your greatest weakness, but translation is your greatest strength.” Xan gestured toward the horizon where cruise ships dotted the harbor. “Your world faces challenges that require all your wisdom traditions working together. When you stop arguing about which approach is best and start translating between them, you become capable of transformation.”
The alien handed Marcus a small device with swirling patterns. “A gift from my world to yours. It contains no technology, no data. Only a reminder.”
“Of what?” Marcus asked.
“That before you can solve a problem, you must grok it whole.”
As the ship shimmered and faded from view, Marcus looked down at the device. In his hands, it resolved into a simple sculpture – an elephant, seen from all sides at once.
Epilogue: The Council Continues
The World Council did not begin with a visitor from another world. But it did begin with the recognition that our most pressing challenges require us to become Translators – those who can move between different ways of knowing and help them work together.
Today, Councils of Translators work throughout the hemisphere, addressing food systems, climate resilience, and community wellbeing. Each brings together technical experts, community leaders, business innovators, and wisdom keepers – not to debate whose approach is best, but to integrate their unique strengths.
They start with a simple question: “What part of the elephant do you see?”
And then a harder one: “Are you willing to learn the language of those who see a different part?”
The tower once fell because we forgot how to translate. Today, we build anew – not to reach the stars, but to remember that we already share a world.
*For those interested in learning the language of living systems and becoming Translators in their own communities, the ReGenesis Institute (https://www.regenerat.es/trp/) offers frameworks and training in regenerative approaches to complex challenges.*
**This is a work of speculative fiction. Any apparent connection to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Readers can however learn about the very real MGM Grand story and other fun facts at:
The Implementation Crisis: A Tale of Innovation, Institutional Inertia, and the Future of Food System Transformation
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/implementation-crisis-tale-innovation-institutional-inertia-dobbs-quwfc
For those interested in learning the language of living systems and becoming Translators in their own communities, the ReGenesis Institute offers powerful frameworks and training in regenerative approaches to complex challenges.
