The Visitor

by Tony Harmsworth

  ‘It would be good to know the language before AD2 gets to the Cluster.’

  He passed his reflexlet to me and said, ‘By the way, we have two more images of Allen and, as you can see, he can extend limbs directly from his body.’

  ‘Mary thought that might be how they worked. How wonderful to materialise a hand or arm at will. Wish I could do the same right now.’

  He laughed, ‘Yes, would be a boon.’

  I think it inspired a smile in me. One of my first since finding out about Mario.

  ‘They opened one of the cylinders which they knew contained only data which had been studied.’

  ‘And…?’

  ‘Contained silicon.’

  ‘What just silicon?’

  ‘Yes, and it is amazing how it works. Initially it was a bit of a mystery, but when the truth about Allen’s existence was revealed, lots of universities clamoured for information.’

  ‘Guessed that would happen.’

  ‘The fact that the silicon could store massive amounts of data, but also brain activity was a real puzzle. The breakthrough came at Lancaster University. The cylinders themselves are machines. They switch electrons on or off within the silicon atoms. Silicon has fourteen electrons and the number of combinations appeared, initially, to be fourteen.’

  ‘That accounts for the amount of storage, then?’

  ‘Well, no, actually, but the electrons circle the atom’s nucleus in orbits, known as shells. Lancaster discovered the electrons in each shell acted as a power on the other shells. Shell one had two electrons, shell two had eight and shell three had four. So, depending upon how many were switched, it gave you two times eight times four equalling sixty-four different combinations in each atom.’

  ‘Amazing, but that is a ground-breaking discovery.’

  ‘Yes. Allen has given us the most powerful memory storage, far beyond anything we ever thought possible.’

  ‘Its effect on computers and AI will be enormous,’ I said.

  ‘Ah, yes, but the switching of electrons on or off is now causing a huge amount of research and there are likely to be breakthroughs in other industries. If you can manipulate electrons in silicon, why not in lead or nitrogen or any other element?’

  ‘How many more wonders are going to be found in or hinted at within Allen’s craft? Thanks so much for coming to tell me about it all, Tim.’

  Sitting up in a chair was a strain and, to be honest, I was glad when they helped me back into the bed. I was still so weak, hardly able to lift my good leg off the floor. Even lifting and holding my reflexlet, which was as light as a feather, was a serious trial of strength after a few minutes.

  I lay back and browsed my get well cards. Mum and Dad arrived in the evening and my hospital stay was beginning to fall into a routine. The emotional loss caused by Mario’s death preyed heavily upon my mind though, and caused many tearful, sleepless nights.

  The months which followed gradually saw me regaining the use of my legs, although I needed both a stick and crutch to get about.

  My arm took almost as long to heal and had needed a second operation to insert an extra metal rod.

  My coma seemed to have had no effect on my mental abilities and I began to receive briefings on progress at Goonhilly. I’d hopes for a return to work in the near future. I felt so isolated in hospital.

  Towards the end of my hospital stay, Mars One arrived in orbit around the fabled red planet and collected AD2. It put up no resistance and there seemed to be no recognition that it had been captured. That surprised me rather. I’d thought it would try to make contact. Yuri and his crew strapped it to a framework in the ship’s hold. Eventually it was on the way back to Earth orbit.

  I was going to have to regain my health if I was to play any part in the reception committee.

  24 Just a Quick Visit

  I left the hospital at the end of November 2036, a year after returning from the International Space Station. How my life had changed. I’d be a virtual cripple for years and had lost the love of my life. All I had left was my desire to ensure the aliens were accepted by humanity. My determination to achieve that objective was multiplied tenfold. Nothing else mattered to me now. I was obsessed with it.

  As an astronaut, I was diligent in my physiotherapy, but even so, my left leg was not responding at all well. I stayed with Mum and Dad for a few days but eventually decided to put in an appearance at Goonhilly to let everyone know I was alive, if not kicking, before returning to my parents’ bungalow for another month’s convalescence. Maybe I could return to work in January.

  Could I prove I was able to be independent? Dad wanted to come with me, but surely I’d be okay on my own for just one night. I could move about all right with my stick for ten or twenty metres at a time and my crutch made me more mobile but reduced my speed. Indra Masinghe wanted me to use the crutch continually for a few more weeks, but I hated it with a vengeance.

  I soon regretted travelling unaccompanied.

  My hire vehicle arrived in Helford and I discovered a huge drawback to autonomous cars – there was no one to help with my cases! I managed to get the empty one into the hallway, once I’d fought my way through the neglected clematis which was intent on concealing the front door. The full case was defeating me. I couldn’t even lift it out of the boot. I stood and looked around helplessly. Helford is a tiny village with a dead-end road. There was no one in sight in any direction.

  What was I to do? I looked this way and that. No one passed by. Not even a car to flag down. With a new grit, I put my stick in the boot, steadied myself, reached in and pulled on the case.

  Finally, it was out of the car, but rather unfortunately I was on my back with the case on top of me. I burst out laughing! It was either that or cry and I was sick of crying. I’d done enough of that to last a lifetime.

  I pushed the case off, crawled to the car and heaved myself back to my feet, hurting all over.

  ‘You okay?’ asked a pleasant male voice from behind me.

  ‘Yes. Just struggling with my case.’

  ‘Who won?’ He was a distinguished fifty-something in an Arran sweater and jeans.

  ‘The case did.’

  ‘Yes. I think it had you in a double-arm wristlock.’ We both laughed.

  ‘I guessed it would have a name. I’m Evelyn.’

  ‘Recognised you – the lady of the moment. I’m Jack. Gaye and I are your neighbours. Didn’t realise it was you who’d moved in next door to us.’

  ‘Yes. I work at Goonhilly.’ Mario and I had hardly had time to get to know the village community.

  ‘Sorry about your husband.’

  ‘Thanks. We never made it to the altar.’ I stifled my emotions.

  ‘Yes. I read that. Sorry.’

  ‘Can you get this suitcase into the house for me. I’m afraid it might try to throw me again!’

  ‘No problem.’ He picked it up, and I recovered my crutch and stick, dismissed the car, and followed him in.

  ‘Can you take it up to the room on the right at the top of the stairs, please… and the empty one too.’

  When he descended, he wrote his number on the hall notepad. ‘Don’t hesitate to call if you need help. Usually Gaye or I will be in.’

  ‘Thanks, Jack.’

  Once he’d gone, I looked at the stairs with some trepidation. This hadn’t been a good idea. I shouldn’t have come without help. I’d been stupidly optimistic. I wasn’t ready for climbing stairs but, with a great effort, one step at a time, I pulled myself up to the bedroom.

  I stood in the doorway, taking in the room we’d left the morning of the Armstrong show. I hadn’t realised the emotions it would arouse. I shouldn’t have come at all. Tears ran freely down my cheeks. I let it happen. Better out than in. I slid down the wall I had been leaning against until I was a crumpled, devastated heap on the floor.

  In that moment, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay. This could never be my home again. T
he room was overflowing with our love for each other. Not only the bed with its unforgettable intimate secrets, but his jeans hanging over the back of the wooden chair where he’d thrown them, a windcheater suspended from the wardrobe catch. Some navy blue material protruded from under his pillow.

  I crawled to the bed and hauled myself to my feet, pulling the garment from its hiding place. His pyjama shorts. The tears flowed again as I buried my face in them, soaking up the badly missed aroma of my long-lost lover as they did the same with my tears. I’d never smell him again, the lingering musky scent of my man. How it comforted me once the tears subsided. The essence of him. Once it faded, it would be gone forever. I couldn’t stay here, not even for a single night. I must leave. I had to get away.

  I opened the empty case, added some clothes from my drawers and wardrobe, collected a few other bits and bobs, threw in the shorts and closed it. I slid the two cases, one at a time, to the top of the stairs and pushed them down. They both made it safely, albeit noisily, to the bottom and I followed, holding tightly to the banister as my bad leg did its best to give up the ghost during my descent.

  I sat on the bottom step, breathing heavily for a while before I rang the Mullion Cove Hotel, managed to get a room for the night and called a car before telephoning Jack to come over to help when it arrived.

  Thirty minutes later the car pulled up outside and Jack appeared shortly afterwards.

  ‘I’m in no fit state to stay.’

  ‘You don’t look very steady.’

  ‘No. Can you put the cases in the car, please? I’m going to stay at Mullion Cove.’

  ‘Of course.’

  I thanked him and left. The car took me straight to the hotel and I was sure I’d never return to the cottage in Helford, other than to pack and move. I felt so desolate. My life had been changed beyond belief by the act of a madman. My dream chocolate-box cottage could never represent more than hopeless melancholy.

  The hotel staff knew me from the news and the many meals I’d had there with Mario and Goonhilly visitors. I let their sympathy wash over me but was grateful for their attentiveness as they assisted me the best they could.

  Where was my car? Presumably, still parked at Goonhilly. I’d instructed it to go there when I booked the express car to take Mario and me to London. I texted it for its location and then to come and collect me at ten the next morning.

  ««o»»

  The Jaguar arrived on time, drove me in through the Goonhilly gates, and I noticed the perimeter was now secured with guards armed with machine guns. That was new and reflected the threats of the religious and xenophobic terrorists.

  The approach to the building revealed the most wonderful surprise. There was an enormous banner ‘WELCOME BACK DAME EVELYN’ spread across the front of the building, the letters hurriedly scrawled in the browns, greens, and blues of corporate Goonhilly paint. It had obviously been hastily prepared. How on earth had they known? I asked the car to stop and looked at the sign, tears welling up. I fought to control them and took photographs of the sign with my phone, before letting the car proceed.

  The Jaguar stopped in front of the doors and it took me a minute to get out, sort out my crutch, and make my way to the entrance, while the car went off and parked itself.

  Someone must have noticed it driving itself out of the car park earlier and found out I was in the area. They’d guessed it had gone to collect me. Either that or someone at the hotel had tipped them off when I arrived the previous day. I hadn’t realised my staff thought so much about me. I felt warmed by their kind thoughts. Could I control my emotions? I was determined to try.

  They had obviously been waiting for me because by the time I entered, there was a gathering of some forty staff who all gave the most astonishing three cheers. I’m afraid I instantly broke down. My intention to be stoical had totally failed. Janet ran over to me with a chair into which I gratefully slumped, the crutch clattering to the floor.

  Everyone came over in turn, offering their sympathies for Mario and congratulating me on my recovery. After the initial outburst of tears, I steeled myself to let the sympathetic words pass me by unheard. I didn’t dare let them through my fragile defences to ignite recurring waves of grief.

  After a while people drifted away. Tim and Janet helped me through to my office, where everything was exactly as it had been the day before I left for the television studios.

  I didn’t do much. I drank cups of tea and called in a few colleagues for a chat to discover how they were doing and get some first-hand news. When I was about to leave, I told Tim I’d be back in the new year and called Janet.

  ‘Can I get you to organise a couple of things for me?’

  ‘Of course, Doctor Slater.’

  ‘I want those three images of Allen on the walls of my office to replace the modern art. Make them big and nicely framed. Get admin to sell the existing paintings off at auction somewhere. Check their value with Mr Brown first and that they’re not important to Goonhilly.’ I fished a memory card out of my bag. ‘There is only one image on this card, Janet, it is of Mario with me. Can you please get it made into an eighteen inch by twelve inch photograph in a tasteful frame to stand on the sideboard over there? Sorry to ask.’ I hated asking for personal favours.

  ‘No problem.’

  I was about to get up and prepare to leave when Tim knocked on the door and came rushing in.

  ‘You have to see this,’ he said, pointing to my computer monitor.

  I relaxed back into my seat, thimballed the monitor open and there was a new red flashing message at the top right.

  I flicked the thimball at it and the video opened. It was from Yuri. How wonderful. I was so glad my friend had been chosen as the Mars One commander.

  Yuri’s head and shoulders were in shot and he spoke in his lovely thick Russian accent, ‘Tim, this urgent. AD2 has come to life in hold and making effort communicate. Every few minutes taking over on-board communication systems with repeating message. Here it is,’ he said, and the camera switched to Yuri’s monitor.

  The screen was filled with alien text similar to the hieroglyphs we’d found on the outside of AD1. It ended and the gold nose of AD2 appeared on the screen. A diagrammatic arrow revolved around the gold probe in a clockwise direction. The animation depicted the probe unscrewing clockwise. When it detached in the animation, the silver blisters covering the gold area of the device pulsated as if radiating something. The message and the animation repeated ad infinitum.

  ‘Tim, we need know what to do,’ said Yuri.

  ‘It’s a six-minute lag, Eve,’ said Tim. ‘How should I answer?’

  I sent a quick message back to Mars One. ‘Eve here, Yuri. We’re on the case. Standby.’

  We called in John Sweet, the head of the computer section and Roy Williams, the newly appointed head of the linguistics section.

  Tim sent communications a copy of Yuri’s message to distribute to the action list. That done, the four of us discussed how to respond to the developing situation. AD2 had somehow discovered the monitor’s resolution and input requirements and then transmitted its message. Remarkable.

  It seems my fleeting visit to the office was not going to be as fleeting as I’d expected. There was no way I could walk out now. Yuri needed me. My project needed me. Perhaps even Allen needed me.

  25 Message from Mars

  Around six minutes later another video message arrived from Yuri. ‘Lovely to hear you back, Eva. It stopped repeating message. Standing by. I going to stream you video of inside of hold in case anything precipice happen.’

  Yuri’s face disappeared from the screen and AD2 was visible, strapped to a specially made framework in the hold section of Mars One. It was so still – but who knew what was going on inside it?

  One of my hacker team was convinced the device was home to an actual alien mind. If it had awoken, would it be prepared to wait the several weeks necessary to get it back to Earth or would it believ
e it was being ignored? What would happen if it were unhappy about us ignoring it or having removed it from Mars orbit?

  I sent an acknowledgement back to Yuri with a copy to NASA and ESA, ‘Copy that, Yuri. We’re discussing. Use your own initiative if anything unexpected occurs.’

  ‘So, it’s settled down,’ said John.

  ‘Can I copy the video of the text, Doctor Slater? We’ll find out if we can make sense of it. At least there’s a context,’ said Roy.

  I copied Yuri’s message, forwarded it to him, and he went back to the linguistics department.

  ‘It must want us to unscrew the golden rod to cause something to happen with those blisters. Do you know what work has been done on them on AD1?’ I directed my question to Tim.

  ‘Nothing. They’ve been concentrating on the last of the cylinders.’

  ‘Who oversees research up there currently, Tim?’

  ‘Doctor Naughton is up there again at the moment.’

  ‘He’s recovered from the decompression?’

  ‘Yes, full recovery and he played merry hell until NASA approved his return to the ISS.’

  I quickly sent an email to Reg Naughton in the Cluster, forwarding Yuri’s message and asking if they’d unscrew the rod – with all possible precautions.

  I sent another message to Mars One. ‘Yuri, I have linguistics going through the message. I’ve asked Reg Naughton to consider unscrewing the rod from AD1. Suggest you sit tight for a while.’

  My telephone rang. It was the new head of NASA and he was miffed I’d been giving orders to Yuri.

  With authority beyond what I felt, I told him, ‘Professor Green, this was an urgent situation and Yuri’s request was sent to us. We therefore responded and you were copied in on everything.’

  ‘I didn’t even know you were back. Mr Riley has cleared everything through us,’ he replied.

  ‘Well, I’m much better thanks. Take it up with UKSA or ESA if you’re unhappy with the responses I made.’

  ‘No, not unhappy, but I would’ve liked to have known you were back in the saddle. I am, of course, glad you’re feeling better.’