She leans forward. “What is that?”
“Whoa…” Anil looks closely. “It looks like the song from space is different from the Earth version.”
“You think there’s a message in those blips?”
Anil peers at the screen. “It seems unlikely.”
“Maybe it’s an error in your software.”
“There’s one way to find out. Bear with me.” He runs the live radio transmission from Barnard’s Star and records twenty plays of “Johnny B. Goode,” saving separate wave files and loading them in the spectrum analyzer. He then compares each audio file to the original one from Earth.
A pattern of spikes emerges.
Prisha’s jaw drops. “Wow, look at that!”
He points. “These three nodes show up at the same position in the track.”
“But they’re different from loop to loop…”
He gasps. “You’re right, Prisha. Good eye! The blips get smaller with each transmission.”
“…there’s a code in there.”
“You think so?” He stares. “It almost looks like there’s a unique three-letter signature in each cycle. If you look at the first 14 files, the first two blips remain constant but the third one changes.”
“I see,” Prisha says. “But look at the 15th file. Suddenly the second blip changes and remains the same for the rest of the sequence.”
“What does it mean?” Anil asks.
“Why don’t you create a letter for each blip?”
Anil’s brow relaxes. “Great idea.” He finds fourteen distinct spikes differing in size and ranks them from largest to smallest, designating them with a letter from A to N. He then writes out the code for the twenty consecutive loops.
ACA
ACB
ACC
ACD
ACE
ACF
ACG
ACH
ACI
ACJ
ACK
ACL
ACM
ACN
ADA
ADB
ADC
ADD
ADE
ADF
Shivers run down Anil’s back. “There’s a pattern in the noise.”
Prisha gasps. “Oh my God…”
“This is a countdown!”
“For what?”
“I don’t know, but I have to tell Dr. Sanders.”
6.
AUSTIN EXITS the Nob Hill Hyperloop station and shields himself from a strong wind. He paces down an outdoor walkway anchored to forty-fifth floor of the St. Francis skyscraper. As he walks, messages stream into his smartglasses.
“Austin, your Project Titan meeting is in ten minutes.”
“Cancel it, Isaac. I don’t feel like working.”
“Are you depressed? Your psychiatrist appointment is overdue.”
“Leave me alone.”
“There are other remedies for depression.”
“Be quiet! Disable my notifications for the rest of the day.”
A seagull glides overhead and dives below the overpass. Austin peers over the ledge and spots the streets of Nob Hill, a ten-block island district surrounded by the San Francisco Bay.
“Zoom in,” he tells his A.I. In his magnified view, he sees tents up and down California Street. A police drone hovers above a group of wandering vagrants and a pack of dogs scavenges in the distance.
“Isaac, navigate to 111 Polk Street.”
“Where are you going, Austin?”
“Never mind. Just take me there.”
A blue line appears in his field of view and highlights the passage, guiding him to his destination. He follows it into an elevator and takes it to the ground floor.
I need to escape.
A foul stench greets him in the lobby, growing as he walks toward the street. Outside, throngs of homeless people idle in encampments spanning the island. Needles and drug paraphernalia cover the sidewalk.
He follows the route past a pile of garbage and across a fractured concrete road, once a thoroughfare for motorized vehicles. He pauses in front of the Mark Hopkins hotel and glances at the remnants of a top-floor restaurant.
I had dinner with Olivia there years ago.
A police drone flies overhead. He lowers his head and walks a few blocks towards San Francisco Bay. Trash stretches from the shore to the neighboring island of Russian Hill. As winds pick up, he covers his nose with his sleeve and paces briskly along Polk Street, where he sees his destination—an abandoned three-story building.
Is that the pharmacy?
He approaches the complex; a homeless man sleeps near its entrance. A rat crawls from the rain gutter and darts into a wild lawn. Austin sneaks past the man to the front gate and finds it open.
Then he receives a phone call from unknown. “Reject the call,” Austin whispers, looking back to see if he awoke the homeless man. Seconds later, another call arrives.
It must be the CIA.
He switches his smartglasses to “do not disturb” mode. Immediately, a text message flashes in his field of view. “Dr. Sanders, it has been five days. We need the communications decoded ASAP.”
Ignoring the government, Austin quietly opens the door and peers inside a pitch-black hallway, his blue path leading into darkness. He hears water drops falling onto carpet and smells mold.
“Turn on light,” he whispers. A beam from his smartglasses illuminates the damp corridor. He follows the line up a creaky staircase to the second floor, tiptoeing past someone lying on the ground. The navigation ends at a door—Apartment 202.
His heart racing, he softly taps and waits for a response. He knocks louder and whispers, “Hello?”
“Who’s there?” someone yells from inside.
Austin grows pale. “…I want to place an order.”
The door opens and a flashlight shines in his face. He finds a middle-aged woman standing in the doorway, her face covered with sunglasses and a bandana. “What do you want?”
Austin hesitates. “…something that will let me escape. What’s popular?”
“DMT, heroine, 2CC…”
“What’s 2CC?”
“A psychedelic. Everyone loves it, and it will definitely take you to another world.”
“I’ll try that.”
He hands her money and takes a bag from her, then quickly heads back to the top of the staircase. He stops and inspects the plastic pouch, and then he opens it and tastes the white powder.
It’s so bitter.
He smells the narcotic and gags.
How can I take this? It smells like shit.
Breathing deeply, he mentally prepares himself for the ingestion. He stretches his left index finger and pours the powder onto it, then counts down as he exhales deeply.
3, 2, 1…
He snorts the powder in one quick inhalation and a sharp pain blasts through his skull. He falls to the floor and grimaces in torment, gagging and coughing violently as the bitter particles clot the back of his throat.
Someone upstairs shouts, “Get out of here!”
The staircase starts to rock back and forth. Austin tries to stand and loses his balance, falling down the steps and landing on his shoulder. He fights the pain in silence and tears stream from his dilated pupils. Nauseated, he slowly picks himself up and walks outside.
He leaves the building and approaches the bay, spotting the island of North Beach. Suddenly a wave of euphoria calms his body as a warm glow brightens.
Finally, some peace…
Sunlight breaks through the clouds and transforms the hazy, yellow-green sky into a deep turquoise blue. Orange and red colors stand out like the pages of a pop-up book. He smiles as heat radiates from his hands to his arms and legs.
I feel alive.
A bird leaves a purple trail as it soars above the ocean. He follows it to find clouds vibrating with an electrical energy. Colorful geometric patterns rotate in a gleeful symphony orchestrated by the sun.
“Isaac, t
ake a picture of this.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you see the magic?” He spreads his arms and closes his eyes as a breeze relaxes his muscles. He takes a deep breath of the ocean mist and ignores a police drone flying overhead.
It feels so good.
Steam rises from the bay. He falls on his knees and crawls to the bank, inching closer to the shore. The golden sunlight illuminates the ocean floor, exposing metal objects. Bubbles rise to the water surface. He looks closely and spots a traffic post resting on the seabed.
Is there something written on that?
Suddenly, winds pick up and the steam intensifies as the water level falls. More relics of the past appear around him.
Austin laughs hysterically, his pupils fully dilated. “The ocean is falling down!”
A concrete highway comes into view as the water edge retreats. He reads a placard. “San Francisco City Limit. Population 2,445,334.” A trolley track appears. He gazes around in amazement.
The city’s back to normal.
“Dad!”
He hears a child screaming.
“Dad, over here!”
He squints towards North Beach and spots a brown-haired boy and a woman waving to him. “Son?”
“Come on, Dad, let’s go for a walk together!”
He races towards them. “Matthew, Olivia, I’m coming!”
The water recedes and exposes a street sign—Hyde Street. Austin walks along the rail, following the water’s edge as it falls. Victorian homes appear around him, their facades freshly painted in oranges and blues. The ocean disappears and the San Francisco Islands morph into one connected land mass.
I’m back home.
An automobile passes by, the driver yelling, “Get off the road!” Austin runs onto the sidewalk and smiles.
I miss this place.
A taxi parks. “Where you going?” the driver shouts.
Austin jumps in. “Take me to my family!”
“You got it.” The car passes a light and races for the intersection of Hyde Street and Lombard Street.
“This spot is perfect. Stop the cab.” Austin leaps from the car and approaches his wife and son. Tears stream from his eyes. He leans over and picks up his boy, hugging him intensely. “Matthew, I’ve missed you so much!”
“I missed you too, Dad.”
“Have you been good to your Mom?”
“Yes.”
With his son in his arms, he hugs his wife and buries his head in her hair. “Olivia, I’ve ached for you.” He smells her floral fragrance and kisses her cheek. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Her expression is blank.
“Olivia?”
A passerby approaches them. “Would you like a photo?”
Austin reaches for a metal object in his pocket and pulls out a smartphone.
I haven’t used one of these in years!
He hands it to the stranger and poses with his family in front of Lombard Street with its rows of pink and white flowers. In the distance, Coit tower rises above the city.
“Smile!” the stranger shouts, snapping a photo and signaling with his thumbs up. “Beautiful picture.”
“Thanks,” Austin says as he takes back his phone.
A trolley stops at the intersection. Matthew points. “Dad, look! Let’s get on!”
Austin grabs his family’s hands and leads them to the train, taking it down Hyde Street towards Fisherman’s Wharf.
“Where are we going, Dad?”
“Wherever you and mommy want, son.”
A foghorn blares and seagulls fly overhead as the Golden Gate Bridge glistens in the afternoon sun. Tourists lean outward from the car, taking photos of Alcatraz Island.
Austin turns and looks into his wife’s eyes. “Olivia, I’ve wanted to tell you something from the bottom of my heart. I don’t blame you for what happened…”
They approach Ghirardelli Square and come to a stop. Matthew points. “Dad, let’s go to the chocolate shop!”
“Okay, son. Take my hand.” Austin steps off the train into a puddle. He takes another step and falls deeper, his ankles submerged in water.
What the hell?
He looks up and panics. “Matthew? Olivia?” The trolley moves on to its next stop. He looks around for his family and a wave of nausea overpowers him, sending him crashing into the ground.
The puddle grows into a pool and the ocean drenches his clothing. He tries to stand but feels his legs buckle.
“Olivia, don’t leave me again!”
Clouds obscure the sun. The sky grows dark and its deep blue morphs into a greenish hue. Alcatraz Island vanishes as the San Francisco archipelago reappears. Rivers of water gush towards him.
I have to get out of here.
Cars vanish from the road. He runs on the abandoned street towards high ground, trying to escape the rising sea. Street signs collapse as a wall of water crashes behind him. He looks back to see it swallow the tourists.
“Matthew!”
He trips over and falls onto his face. The flood overtakes him and rises rapidly. He tries to swim against the fierce current and smashes into a tree, reaching for a branch and clinging for dear life.
A loud buzz fills the air.
Where am I?
He squints as a spotlight shines in his face. A robot voice comes from a police drone flying above. “Citizen, get down from there!”
Austin returns to reality, finding himself back in Nob Hill clinging to a tree. His head throbs and his neck pulsates in pain.
It’s nighttime?
He looks up and sees a small copter overhead. Panicked, he releases his grip and falls onto a pile of trash.
The robot approaches Austin. “You are under arrest.”
He covers his eyes from the spotlight. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Stay where you are.”
He picks up a rock and flings it at the machine, then sprints back towards the train station, running through alleys.
His smartglasses chime. “Austin, the police are following you.”
“Shut up, Isaac, I don’t need your help.”
“I suggest you contact your psychiatrist.”
Austin spots officers in uniform. He runs into a lot and dives into an empty tent, trembling in fear. His heart races as he hears a pack of wild dogs barking. A pit of misery gnaws in his stomach.
I’m more depressed than before. 2CC made me worse!
He begins to cry.
Olivia, why won’t you call me?
Someone approaches. “Get out of my tent!”
Austin leaps out and runs towards the Hyperloop station. Along the way, his smartglasses vibrate—there’s an incoming phone call from Anil Anaya. It rings several times and he considers rejecting the call. He stops running.
Maybe it’s good news.
Austin answers the call. “Anil?”
“Dr. Sanders, do you have a minute?”
“Not really.”
“It won’t take long. I just want to tell you that I solved the CIA project.”
Austin rubs his neck. “What are you talking about?”
“The encrypted radio signal from space, remember?”
“You mean ‘Johnny B. Goode’?”
“Yes.”
Austin’s depression lifts and the high returns. Looking up, he sees thousands of stars in the Milky Way galaxy and his jaw drops from the vastness of space.
“Dr. Sanders?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Anil Anaya.”
“What do you want?”
Anil pauses. “Dr. Sanders, I can call back later.”
“Just tell me the bottom line.”
“The radio signal we received from Barnard’s Star…it’s a countdown ending in two days.”
Austin smiles and turns loopy. “The ‘Johnny B. Goode’ song from space?”
“Yes!”
“It’s a countdown? What happens in two days?”
“I have no idea.”
“Who sent us the signal?”
“We think it’s from an intelligent species near Barnard’s Star.”
“Great news!” His high peaking, Austin laughs madly and skips around Nob Hill like a child. He runs into a pole and smashes his face, giggling hysterically on the ground.
“Dr. Sanders, are you okay?”
“Of course, I’ve never been happier. The world will end in two days.”
“Sir?”
“The countdown…it’s the end of times.”
Anil pauses. “…Dr. Sanders, just to clarify, I don’t know what happens in two days—”
“This is the biggest discovery of the year. We deserve a Nobel Prize or at least a nice dinner somewhere.”
Anil hesitates. “…Dr. Sanders, just one question. Should we inform the CIA? They wanted us to decode the signal today, and the deadline is in a few hours.”
Austin makes a fist. “Screw the CIA! They are a bunch of douche bags and they can do their own work. Damn this bloody War!”
“Sir, are you sure? Will we be in trouble if we ignore the CIA?”
“Let them hack the code for themselves. We can’t go around sharing our discoveries with everyone.”
“Okay, Dr. Sanders, whatever you say.”
“Inform the cavalry and high command. The countdown ends in two days. In 48 hours, we will say goodbye to the Milky Way.”
Anil pauses. “…do you need help, Dr. Sanders? You sound like you’re in a bad place.”
“It’s too late for that, Anil. The clock is ticking. The end times are here!”
7.
“MR. KHARON, sorry to interrupt your session. The CIA deputy director is on the line.”
Lying face down on a massage table, Manos opens his eyes and turns his head to Felina at the door. Marble stretches across the walls and floors of his luxury bathroom. In the corner, a wooden door leads to a private sauna.
“I’ll take the call,” Manos says.
She closes the door.
Manos turns and stares at two masseuses standing over him. “Don’t just stop. I don’t pay you to hang around.”
The women resume their program. One of them rubs his neck and the other stretches his calf. He grabs a pea-sized speaker from a leather case, placing it in his ear, then lays his head back down and closes his eyes. “Felina, I’m ready for the call.”
Extinction 6 Page 5
