by Greg Ripley
The Joint Agreement, as it was being called, described how this had been part of the Elders’ conditions for their assistance. Once given this knowledge, they intended for us to get the ball rolling in their absence and help ourselves.
Rohini couldn’t help smiling as she recalled what her uncle Ragnar always said, “They say the Lord helps those who help themselves, course if you help yourself, the Lord can just kick back and relax.” Ragnar had his own unique take on theology. Unlike her father, Ragnar had continued the family tradition of farming, but had settled in New Mexico after falling for a local girl, many years before.
Returning to the paper, the next article caught Rohini’s attention. It was a call for applicants for an Earth Ambassadors Program, the individuals who would accompany the Elders back to their world. There had been some disagreement about which nationalities would be eligible. Some argued they should be limited to those from wealthier nations—those countries with the most resources to contribute—others argued for equal political and regional representation. The compromise had settled on two ambassadors each from the United States, the European Union, Russia, and China. One ambassador each would be selected from Brazil, South Africa, Japan and India, for a total of twelve.
Rohini assumed selections would only be open to military personnel or maybe astronauts—they were talking about going to another planet, after all—but the application process was open to anyone between the ages of twenty-one and forty with a four-year degree and proficiency in at least two languages. That makes sense, she thought, assuming the ambassadors would study the Elders’ language. Although, they spoke English at the UN, didn’t they? I was able to understand them, so they must have.
Rohini was finishing the article and her second cup of coffee when her phone vibrated on the coffee table. She usually kept it in silent mode, figuring there was enough noise in our modern world. Checking the display, she saw it was her father. “Hi, Dad. Did you hear about the announcement today?”
“I did. Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’m not sure how to put this, Rohini. You know about my connection with the administration?”
“Sure, Dad. I know you and the president go way back, and there’s stuff you can’t talk about.”
“Well, yes, but that’s not exactly what I mean. I talked to the president today. You remember how the Elders communicated with President Johnson telepathically. Well, he told me today that when the aliens spoke to him about the ambassadors, they also told him who they would like him to send. That’s why I’m calling.”
“Wait, what? You mean he wants me to apply for the program? That’s amazing!’ Rohini said, sitting up straighter at the news.
“No, Rohini, not the president, the Elders. The Elders want you.”
Rohini sank back into the couch, her mouth agape. She couldn’t believe what her father was saying. Surely, I didn’t hear him right.
“But… what about the announcement and the application process… is that just for show? I thought…”
“No, the application process is real,” her father said. “The president mentioned that there were others as well. Each of the countries sending two ambassadors had one individual who the Elders requested by name.”
“But how could they possibly know about me. I didn’t even talk to them,” Rohini said. “That’s kind of creepy, like they’ve been stalking me or something.”
Her father chuckled. “No, I don’t think it’s anything like that. President Johnson told me that the other individuals they requested were also Youth Ambassadors who were at the UN that day.”
“Well, I did have a ‘moment’ with one of them,” Rohini said.
“You mean the bodyguard?”
“Yes.”
“That could be it, although I would think they must have known about you before,” her father said. “After all it wasn’t the bodyguard who communicated with the president.”
“So, they have been stalking me.”
“Well, I guess you’ve got me there,” her father replied. “Maybe just think of it as vetting you, instead of stalking you.”
“That does sound less creepy, almost flattering even,” Rohini said. “But we are still talking about aliens here, Dad. How do we know we can trust them?” Oh God. What if they abducted me and I didn’t even know it? Thoughts of hokey TV shows about anal probes and cattle mutilations flashed through her mind.
“I’ve thought about that too, Rohini. Listen, the president believes we can take them at their word, and I trust his judgement. He’s never been wrong when it really counted.”
“Well, that’s great as long as the Elder’s telepathy was more of a mind-meld and not a mind-trick. What if it’s all a lie? And you’re OK with this? You sound pretty relaxed considering some aliens want to beam me up to God knows where. I am your only daughter, remember?”
“I know, sweetie, and no, I wasn’t OK with it—at least not at first—but I’ve had some time to think about it and I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve always wanted the world for you,” he said, a slight quiver in his voice. “I’ve always wanted you to reach for the stars—I just didn’t know you would actually be going there. When you went to Space Camp I had to reconcile myself to the fact that you might pursue that path. I thought you might go on the first manned mission to Mars someday, but nothing like this. When you got more involved in ecology and sustainability, I was relieved. I thought I only had to worry about you travelling in other countries, not to another planet. But I guess the real question is, are you OK with this?”
Rohini was more than OK with it. It was beyond her wildest dreams. While she was nervous, it was a nervous excitement. Her body buzzed with anticipation like a phone on vibrate. She had always loved to travel, delighting in seeing new places and learning about different cultures.
Her father was right. She used to envision herself traveling into space as an astronaut, but as she grew older and came to understand the urgency of the climate crisis, those dreams took a back seat to her love for the planet. Now she was being offered a once in a lifetime opportunity where those two paths converged. That evening, Rohini was on a plane to Washington DC to meet with President Johnson.
5
The White House
Washington, DC
“The president will see you now.”
Rohini, waiting outside the Oval Office, stood, smoothing her clothes and taking a deep breath to steady herself before walking through the door. Her stomach had been full of butterflies all morning. She’d tried to stay calm after waking, while getting ready for her meeting with the president, but it was no use, her stomach was still aflutter. Her father had known President Johnson for years, but Rohini had never met the man.
Walking through the door, she saw several people gathered in the Oval Office. They stood as she entered. She recognized President Johnson, as well as the vice president, Elizabeth Powers. She was America’s first female VP and was extremely popular. It was taken for granted that when the president’s second term ended, she would be her party’s nominee and would easily take the election.
“Ah, Rohini, so nice to finally meet you,” President Johnson greeted her with a warm handshake and a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.
“Thank you, Mr. President, it’s an honor.”
“And this is Vice President Powers,” President Johnson said.
“Yes, you probably wouldn’t remember, Madame Vice President, but I met you several years ago with my parents.”
“Of course I remember. I was quite taken by how precocious you were. You were still in high school, as I recall, but you seemed wise beyond your years. And your father brags about you all the time. He’s extremely proud of you, dear,” Vice President Powers said. She smiled warmly.
“And this is Jane Smith. She’ll be helping get you prepared for your trip,” the president said, introducing the other woman. It was the agent from the UN
, the woman with green eyes.
“You were at the UN,” Rohini said.
“Yes, I was part of the investigation that day,” Jane said.
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Smith,” Rohini said, offering her hand.
“Please, call me Jane, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, Rohini.”
Jane had an intensity about her. Rohini was immediately reminded of one of the Elders at the UN, the one she had come to think of as “the bodyguard.” Jane had red hair, and though she was of average height and weight for a woman, she projected a larger presence. Rohini was again struck by the same feeling she’d had before, that she knew Jane from somewhere. Who is this woman?
The president motioned for Rohini to have a seat on the couch as the others sat back down. “Rohini, I asked you here because I wanted to meet with you personally,” President Johnson said. “I’m sure you realize how momentous this is.”
“Of course, Mr. President,” Rohini replied.
“The fact that the Elders asked for you by name has everybody wondering,” he said. “I know during your debriefing at the UN you indicated you haven’t had any contact with them before, is that right?”
“Yes, Mr. President, at least not as far as I am aware. They did say that they’ve been here before, so I suppose it’s possible they’ve been watching me.”
“Yes, that’s quite possible,” the president said. “We know little of their technological capabilities, let alone their apparent telepathic abilities. It may have been quite easy for them to observe us without our knowledge. We’ve analyzed the video from the UN. As far as we’ve been able to tell they appeared as human as you or I. I don’t suppose they’d have any trouble blending in.
“Rohini, I’ve asked Ms. Smith to act as a bit of a mentor to prepare you. She has a particular skill set which may come in handy on this trip. You didn’t exactly sign up for this, but it may be helpful to think of this trip as a mission. I know you don’t have any type of military background, and I’m not going to send you through basic training, but Ms. Smith will be putting you through a bit of a private boot camp. We want you to be prepared for any contingencies on this mission, and we’ll want you to be able to gather as much intelligence about the Elders as you can.”
“Of course, Mr. President. That makes perfect sense,” Rohini said.
“While they appear trustworthy, especially to those of us whom they contacted telepathically, we have no way of knowing whether that is truly the case. We’ve considered the possibility that if they can speak to us telepathically, they could also be capable of implanting positive impressions of themselves or—to put it more bluntly—we could have been brainwashed,” the president said, his brow furrowing. “The other world leaders and I aren’t entirely comfortable with this realization—to put it mildly—so we think it would be prudent to not simply take them at their word.”
“Yes, Mr. President…”
Elizabeth Powers cut in, putting a hand on Rohini’s arm. “What the president is trying to say, dear, is that Ms. Smith is going to train you to be a spy.”
6
After the meeting, Rohini went back to Blair House where she was staying as the president’s guest. Located a short walk across Pennsylvania Avenue from the White House, Blair House had served as the president’s guesthouse since being purchased by the government at the behest of President Roosevelt in 1942. Rohini was staying in one of its guestrooms. It was usually reserved for foreign dignitaries and visiting heads of state. Rohini felt a little out of place in the opulent surroundings.
There were no visiting dignitaries at the moment, so other than the part of the building which housed some State Department offices, Blair House was fairly quiet. She hadn’t had much opportunity to look around the grounds, arriving after dark the night before, so she took the time now to wander around a little.
Rohini made her way out to the interior courtyard garden where she saw a circular fountain surrounded by a square planting of a low green groundcover. There were benches on all four sides. She took in the garden as she made her way to one of the benches and sat down. She needed a moment to let it all sink in. Listening to the splashing of the fountain, she began to relax. She rolled her shoulders a few times to release some of the tension she’d been unconsciously holding on to all morning.
Every time Rohini was starting to get a grip on what was happening, there was a new wrinkle. The Elders’ arrival had been a shock to everyone, but learning she was chosen as one of the ambassadors to their alien world was something she alone had to process. She had been sitting for half an hour when she heard the crunch of footsteps on gravel behind her.
“There you are.”
Rohini turned. It was Jane Smith.
“Oh, hi, Jane.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“Please, have a seat,” Rohini said, patting the bench next to her.
Jane sat down. They remained quiet for a moment watching the fountain. Rohini felt the need to break the ice. “Nice digs, huh?” She blurted, awkwardly.
“Yes, they certainly are,” Jane replied. “I take it you don’t usually run in these circles.”
“Oh sure, I stay at diplomatic guesthouses wherever I travel,” Rohini replied sarcastically. “No. I’d probably be more comfortable camping, to be honest.”
“Me too. Although when I’ve been in the field for a while, I can certainly appreciate a hot shower,” Jane said, smiling.
“So, what exactly do you do, Jane? Are you in the CIA or something? Or am I allowed to ask?”
“Let’s just say I’ve worked for several agencies which like to stay under the radar. Currently I’m on special assignment for the president.”
“You don’t mind babysitting?” Rohini said.
“When the president says, ‘jump,’ you say, ‘how high?’ Besides, Rohini, you’re not exactly a kid. When I was your age I’d been in the military for several years already.”
“True. Although I felt like one speaking to President Johnson today,” Rohini said, sheepishly.
“It’s the power of the office,” Jane said. “Not to take anything away from the president—he’s a remarkable man—but anyone in that position has a certain gravitas that can be intimidating.
“Listen, we’re going to get an early start tomorrow, so I’m going to give you some space tonight. The next few months will be intense. The president wants you as prepared as I can get you in that time. I’ll be staying here at Blair House too. I’m right next door, so if you need me, just knock. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Jane. I appreciate that.”
“No worries. I’ll give you a knock at six. Are you a runner?”
“I ran cross country in high school.”
“Cross country, that’s good. Knowing you can push yourself like that will go a long way.”
“Just try not to make me puke. You’ll give me flashbacks of my old coach. He used to tell us if we didn’t want to puke after a race, we weren’t really trying.”
Jane smiled. “We’ll see about that tomorrow,” she said. She rose from the bench and walked towards the door.
Rohini turned her attention back to the fountain until she heard Jane’s voice again, right before she went inside.
“Remember, 6am sharp!”
7
The Simms Estate
Westchester County, New York
Who does that smug bastard think he is? Bartholomew Simms was seething. The Joint Agreement had gotten under his skin. I can’t believe the president is cooperating with these aliens. And other world leaders are going along with this? How can they be so gullible?
Simms sat at an oversized mahogany desk in the library of his Westchester County, New York, mansion which he used as his primary office, spending more time here than his office in the city. The library was richly appointed with
matching mahogany shelves lining three walls, the fourth taken up by three large Tudor-style leaded glass windows.
The shelves and the desk, as well as the ornate woodwork throughout the rest of the mansion, had been made by the same craftsman more than one hundred years before. The shelves showed their age in the smoothly rounded edges where countless hands had passed over them through several generations of the Simms family and rose all the way up to the twelve-foot ceilings, requiring an old-fashioned library ladder to reach the upper shelves.
In front of the desk, a leather sofa and a pair of matching armchairs sat on either side of an antique Persian rug. Chewing on an unlit cigar as he fumed about the recent turn of events, his gaze fell on the rug, which, he had to admit, really tied the room together. He had always found it soothing. It may have been something in the mix of patterns and colors he found relaxing, or perhaps it was memories from childhood. He could almost picture himself as he played on the rug while his father sat at the very same desk during his tenure at the helm of the family’s business empire.
His father had enjoyed him playing there. As long as he was quiet, of course, only shooing him out if he were having an important meeting where a small child underfoot would have been too much of a distraction. Once he was of school age he’d spent most of his time away at boarding school. Perhaps that was why he found those early memories so poignant.
But Bartholomew Simms hadn’t gotten where he was by being sentimental. Never a trusting soul, he was certainly no bleeding-heart environmentalist. All this drivel about climate change really chaps my ass. Being the head of a multinational conglomerate with coal-fired power plants and fracked natural gas extraction among its chief assets, there was no way he was going along with this sudden “kumbaya moment” the international community was having.
