Location: ALMA 3 Headquarters, Director’s Office.
Time: Coordinated Universal Time from initial date 01.01.02 12.31 UTC-4
Setting: Mandatory briefing by the Director.
“Good. And with this, dear Eugene… your name really is quite fitting…”
I smiled, thinking I would never get used to such easy jokes.
“…We’re buying ourselves some time and keeping the curious out.”
“Yes, Director, we’re buying time — but for what? What if it really was a cyber attack?”
The Director sniffed and went on.
“Our engineers have been working on it ever since you sent the secret alert. The antennas clearly picked up a message from outer space — of alien origin. We’ve identified the source.”
“And what is it?”
“An old satellite in orbit: the Black Knight.”
“I thought it was just space junk.”
“That’s what they want the public to believe. But it isn’t so. The World Government takes this very seriously and insists that everything remain secret. At this point, you have to make a choice.”
“What choice, Director?”
“We can’t leave you here.”
“And where should I go? I have no one. This is my job now. After the failure of the Mars 2 programme… well, I’m not as young as I used to be, even if I don’t age like other human beings…”
I hoped my pointed reference to my interlocutor’s obvious ageing — his protruding belly and shining scalp — would more than repay the irony directed at my supposed lack of humanity. His annoyed grimace confirmed I had struck home.
“I was hoping to stay here as an astrophysicist for the rest of my days,” I added.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Then I’ll leave.”
“That isn’t possible either.”
“What do you mean? You’re practically telling me I’m fired!”
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“Not exactly. Let’s say you can never be — how shall I put it — completely dismissed. You must remain under the direct control of the GWO. Think of the bright side: you’ll never be out of work — well… the bright side is that you’ll never be without a salary.”
“Oh really? And so?”
“So… a change of assignment.”
“What assignment?”
“A secret mission. You’ll be enlisted into the secret services as the World Government’s scientific officer.”
“No, Director, I won’t. Can I refuse?”
“In theory yes, but I like you, Eugene. I really do. I’ve always had a soft spot for you. With your résumé — a degree at sixteen, your past as an astronaut, the first ma… first astronaut to set foot on Mars… well, hard to be mistaken. I want to be honest with you.”
“Mmm… let’s hear it.”
His preamble didn’t convince me at all. And I had noticed that hesitation in attributing fully human traits to me. I couldn’t hide a grimace of annoyance.
“If you refuse and go your own way, I fear that one of these days they’ll find you dead. Of natural causes, wherever you go. ‘Natural’.”
“Ah,” I said, pretending indifference, but in fact I wasn’t at all.
“Either you disappear voluntarily, or they’ll make you disappear. I’m sure of that. In reality, you have no choice — not if you want to stay alive, obviously.”
“And who guarantees they won’t get rid of me anyway?”
“Not me, of course. No one can guarantee that. But I have reason to believe they need you, and that is your best insurance.”
“For what reason?”
“When you returned to work, well, we picked up another signal.”
“What signal? When I came back everything was off. ALMA 3 isn’t operating.”
“Not for you, of course, nor for many others. But for some of us, yes. You’ve been excluded from further contacts. In fact, communication with the antennas resumed last night. It was immediately diverted to a military facility. The signal is intermittent. We’ve received further transmissions repeating the initial sequence, but the last one was different. Ironically, what prevented us from understanding it was precisely the simplicity of the message.”
“Ah,” I murmured, feigning indifference. But inside I burned with curiosity to know what else had been transmitted.
“We believe you were chosen to receive the transmission. The second signal, the one you didn’t get… well, it seems it was meant for you. Perhaps we’re wrong, but we need to understand more. Why you? It may have to do with your… ehm… your…”
The Director hesitated, visibly ill at ease.
“My birth, Director. I was born too, in a sense. Though not like you.”
“Yes, all right: an unconventional birth… And then there’s the fact that, apparently, you’re the only one they want to communicate with. In any case, your being… let’s say different from an ordinary human being seems tied to their interest.”
“And these ‘they’ — who are they? And what did the signal say?”
“We don’t know who they are. But we know they exist — for many reasons. In any case, the World Government does not intend to disclose this information. And that’s that. As for the message, after repeating the sequence it clearly said:
‘The numbers that follow are the geographical coordinates of a location. Send the one who first received them to…’
And then, again, that sequence. Dozens of times.”
I shot the Director a genuinely surprised look.
“I hadn’t thought of that. They’re coordinates, of course… but they don’t look like it.”
“Yes, they’re sexagesimal coordinates. We used them too until the 21st century; we abandoned them in favour of radians, which is why they’re unfamiliar. They go back to the Sumerians, perhaps even earlier… In short, whoever they are, they probably count by dozens, or think we still do. Or, more simply, they use their own measuring systems.”
“And me? What will become of me now?”
“You’ll find out soon. They’re waiting for you out there. Goodbye, young Eugene — despite your age. I wish you good luck; you’ll need it. Certainly…”
And with that, the meeting was over.
I headed for the door, still closed before me.
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