Wherever Seeds May Fall (First Contact)

by Peter Cawdron

  Sara says, “Yeah, I’m less than impressed by all the chest-beating over this thing. It’s almost like they want a war. First Contact isn’t supposed to be a pissing contest.”

  “The question is, how do we engage with the public on a global basis?” Kath asks. “And that’s where Andy can help. He knows how to fly under the radar and make waves.”

  “Apparently, these days, I’m a government shill,” Andy says, shrugging.

  “Welcome to the dark side,” Jessie says. “We have milk and cookies.”

  Pete laughs. “If only it paid well. That’s the real conspiracy.”

  Kath ignores them.

  “Science communication is something we know well. But it’s an attempt to reach rational people. That’s not who we need to reach.”

  “You need the psychos,” Andy says, grinning.

  “So how do we do it?” Kath asks. “How do we douse these flames?”

  Andy shakes his head. He’s still grinning. He clearly never thought he’d be in this situation.

  “Okay. The first thing to realize is what your audience wants. They want certainty. Absolutes. They want to feel in control. They want to be right.”

  “Huh?” José says. Like Kath, that last point strikes him as profound.

  “Your average Joe wants to be right. He desperately wants to be right even when he’s demonstrably wrong,” Andy says. “The difference is, you scientists are comfortable with uncertainty. You don’t mind being proven wrong. You know you’re not in control. Everything about you is anathema to people like me. If you want to reach me, you’ve got to play by my rules or I’ll tune you out.”

  “How?” Sara asks.

  “Speak with passion. We want to see you get angry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it shows us you’re human. Not a machine. We associate anger with reason. Sounds strange, but think about it. You’re trying to reason with us without actually showing us the importance of your reasoning. When you get angry, it tells us you’re invested. To be angry is to be human. You get angry when it costs you something. If you want to win us over, we’ve got to see the veins bulging on the side of your neck.”

  Pete jots down a few notes.

  “Consider this,” Andy says. “The same thing said two different ways.” He sits up straight, placing his hands out of sight in his lap. “The government is not telling you the truth about the faraday cages. They’re just trying to distract you. Trying to keep you busy doing something—anything. They don’t know what’s going to happen. They’re just trying to avoid panic.”

  “Okay,” Kath says, nodding. “So, how would you say that?”

  Andy launches himself forward, slapping his right hand firmly in the middle of his desk. “It’s a goddamn lie! Faraday cages? Are you kidding me? That crap didn’t work last time. What makes you think it’s going to work now? Chicken wire and tinfoil ain’t gonna do shit in your garage. Oh, but they don’t care. See, they’re trying to distract you. They wanna keep you busy. Preoccupied. So what are you going to do? I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to…”

  Andy’s voice trails away as he politely asks, “What is it they should be doing?”

  Pete laughs, saying, “How about, be nice. Talk to your neighbors. Make sure they have canned goods and bottled water.”

  “No one’s coming for us personally,” Sara says. “How would you convince them of that? How do you stop people from panicking?”

  “Oh, easy,” Andy says. “Remember, they’re looking to you for an alternative point of view, so give them one.”

  He looks down the camera, firing up as he says, “There are eight billion people on this rock. No one’s coming for you! No one. Oh, but if they can make you afraid. If they can get you hunkering down in your cellar, clutching your rifle, shooting at goddamn shadows, then they’ve won.

  “No one is coming for you. While you’re sitting down there, they’ll be up here talking with them. You’ll be shrinking in fear. They’ll be learning the secrets of the universe. America’s a democracy. You have a right to be involved.”

  Sara shakes her head in disbelief, laughing. “Oh, where were you when I was defending my doctorate thesis.”

  Andy smiles. “Hey, you’re you. I’m me. You don’t have to be exactly like me, but be passionate. Don’t shy from getting angry. Speak from the heart.”

  “I like that,” José says, pointing at his camera.

  “We pull our punches,” Pete says. “We’re too damn nice.”

  “Hell yeah,” Andy says. “You don’t have to be outlandish like me, but you’re not helping anyone if you hold back. They’ll only ever see that as a weakness.”

  Kath is about to speak when people throughout the office stand. That everyone rises in near unison gets her immediate attention.

  “Oh, gotta go. Sorry,” she says, pulling her headset off as Nolan approaches. Beside him is the stoic figure of the President. Kath locks her desktop, not because she’s trying to hide the meeting but rather so her camera and microphone no longer transmit.

  “Please,” the President says, gesturing to those in surrounding cubicles. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

  “Ah, hi,” Kath says, at a loss for what else she could say. It’s been three days since An̆duru passed over the Gulf. Three days and endless meetings. The President hasn’t requested Kath’s presence so she kept herself busy. She’s been collating observations and working with the UN First Contact Commission. Nolan’s barely left the West Wing.

  For Washington, the passage of the alien spacecraft was little more than a summer storm. Electricity was restored before dawn. Life continued as usual. The Southern states were hit hard, but America is nothing if not resilient. Aid has been pouring in from Canada and the European Union.

  Kath’s nervous, but she can’t put her finger on why.

  It’s the President.

  President Elizabeth Aston doesn’t do house calls. People go to her, not the other way around. Why is she here? If she wants to speak to Kath, why didn’t she get someone to call Kath over to the Oval Office? The President’s done that dozens of times since Kath’s been here in the nation’s capital.

  “How are you doing?” the President asks.

  Ah, a polite but meaningless question. Oh, Kath has no doubt about the President’s sincerity, but this is a pleasantry. She doesn’t actually want to hear specifics. Kath is succinct and polite in her reply.

  “Fine.”

  Well, she was fine until the President of the United States of America walked up to her desk unannounced. Disposable coffee cups clutter her trash can. Damn, she’s been meaning to buy a reusable plastic cup. Printouts lie scattered to one side of her desk. Kath should have sorted them, filed them, or thrown them out. Crumbs have gathered in the rows of her keyboard. The Resolute Desk this ain’t.

  Kath stands awkwardly beside her desk, trying to hide the mess.

  “Nolan’s been talking to me about First Contact,” she says.

  “Okay,” Kath replies. She’s unsure what the appropriate response is as she doesn’t know what Nolan has said.

  “You’re convinced they’re peaceful, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nolan’s pushing for our first encounter to occur in space.”

  Kath is unsure why the President’s recounting this as though she were describing a summer holiday. None of this is new. Why has it brought the President to her desk?

  “You’re going to like this,” Nolan says. “NASA had an Orion on the pad, ready to launch. When we announced the alien craft wasn’t stopping, the launch team realized the Orion was vulnerable, so they got it out of there.”

  “They launched?” Kath asks, surprised she hasn’t heard anything about it.

  “No. NASA decoupled the capsule. They stuck it on a transport plane and flew it up to Greenland.”

  “Greenland?” Kath says, still curious why the President is here as now Nolan’s doing all the talking.

 
; “Yes. They rolled it into the caves beneath Thule base, protecting it from An̆duru.”

  “Smart,” Kath says, still not clear on why he’s telling her this. To her mind, an email would have sufficed, but, all right.

  “They’ve got that thing shrink-wrapped,” the President says. “There’s a C-5 Super Galaxy inbound from Greenland taking the Orion back to Florida. It’s refueling at Andrews Air Force Base in about an hour before flying on to the cape.”

  Kath nods, more concerned about the meeting she was in with Andy than anything she’s heard. She wonders what her team has moved onto and hopes they’ve stayed on task.

  “I want you on that flight,” the President says.

  Kath shrugs.

  “Sure.”

  Galaxy

  The wind howls along Pennsylvania Avenue. Snow falls from a dark sky. Snowplows keep the streets clear, pushing ice and slush against the curb. Snow drifts bury the stone wall surrounding the Executive Building.

  Kath slides across the backseat of a government car, making room for Nolan. No Perspex shell around this driver. She can’t help note that, even though these days they always have a security escort. An unmarked car pulls up behind them.

  The drive to Andrews Air Force Base is quiet. Nolan’s engrossed in his phone, responding to messages. His thumbs ripple over the tiny keyboard at the bottom of the screen. Kath prefers her tablet. She chats with a few of the scientists in her team. After talking with Andy, they’re determined to back their message with a little theatrics. Being boisterous won’t work for José as it goes against his personality, but he’s keen to use props and visual aids. It’s a case of injecting excitement and passion into their interviews. As part of the UN First Contact Commission, they have a shot at influencing public opinion.

  A military escort leads their car through the base and onto the airfield. Navigation lights flash from the underbelly of the Super Galaxy. Nothing could prepare Kath for the immense size of the plane. It’s a warehouse with wings. Engines whine, ignoring the cold. The ground crew finishes refueling.

  Their car comes to a halt beyond the wingtips of the plane. Rather than extending from the middle of the fuselage, the wings peel away from the top of the massive craft. The engines are easily twenty feet above the tarmac.

  “This way,” one of the aircrew says as they get out of the car. “Careful on the ice.”

  The engines are idling, slowly turning over, longing to return to the skies.

  A set of stairs is lowered from the fuselage, coming to a halt several feet above the runway. Nolan gestures for Kath to go first. She clutches her tablet beneath her arm and steps up, holding onto the railing as she makes her way inside the plane. It’s only now she stops to think about the practicalities of rushing off to Florida. Kath’s excited to talk with the astronauts on the First Contact mission, but she doesn’t have any spare clothes or toiletries. She doesn’t let that dull her enthusiasm. She can always slip away to the local mall and buy some underwear. The astronauts are their ambassadors. If all goes well, they’re going to meet an intelligent alien species in orbit. Kath’s keen to reinforce the need for peace and understanding.

  The weather in Florida will be an improvement over Washington. How long are they going to be down there? No doubt someone’s been tasked to figure out accommodation and a return flight.

  Pallets line the cargo hold. Strapping secures the load. Thick white plastic wraps around the distinct teardrop shape of a space capsule. Kath is in awe of what she’s seeing. She’s never been this close to spaceflight hardware.

  “Hi, I’m Nikki,” a woman in a NASA jumpsuit says, greeting her. “Commander of the Orion First Contact mission.”

  “K—Kath.”

  Dr. Kathleen McKenzie is starstruck. Several other astronauts and NASA engineers gather around, introducing themselves. They describe their roles but nothing sinks in. Kath needs time to process this. There are lots of smiles. To them, she’s the celebrity.

  She peers past the Orion at several other large pieces of equipment wrapped in plastic. Nothing about their odd shapes gives anything away. Space stuff. She can make out what looks like a communications dish, but she has no idea what it’s attached to.

  The cargo hold is spacious. The two of them are seated on the side of the fuselage and given a short safety briefing along with a set of noise-canceling headphones. The Super Galaxy begins lumbering down the runway. The plane accelerates at what feels like a leisurely pace. The rumble through the fuselage betrays the thundering engines. It seems like they’re never going to get airborne. The Galaxy creeps into the air, slowly gaining height.

  “Have you been into space?” Kath asks.

  “Four times,” Nikki says. “It never gets old.”

  “I bet. So, tell me about your mission?”

  Being inside the White House during the passage of An̆duru gave Kath access to everything and nothing at once. There are only so many hours in a day. Kath had to pick and choose what she focused on, chasing down ideas, often ending up in a rabbit warren of confusion. Once she surfaced, she’d explore some other facet of the encounter, but it meant she missed out on the broader planning. NASA has been preparing for physical contact with An̆duru. If anything, the President has given her a dream assignment. Rather than dealing with public unrest, she gets to think about the science of First Contact.

  Nolan’s listening-in on the same channel. He’s sitting on the other side of Kath and leans forward with his hands on his knees as Nikki continues.

  “The mission has been designated Iris, the goddess of the sky. In Greek mythology, Iris used rainbows to connect humanity with the gods.”

  Nolan says, “Now that’s cool.”

  “Yeah, there’s a nice parallel with our eyes and how the iris controls the amount of light coming in. The idea is, we are the eyes and ears of humanity up there.”

  Kath says, “I’m relieved to hear there’s a positive spin on all this.”

  “We’re hoping for the best.” Nikki points. “That’s the Orion over there. Behind it is the contact probe. We’ll launch with the probe attached to our docking port, but it’s a drone. We’ll run it from the end of a five hundred meter tether.”

  Kath’s surprised. “It’s not radio-controlled?”

  “No. The idea is to reduce our electromagnetic profile around An̆duru. We don’t want them to think this is in any way hostile or threatening. Also, this will allow us to avoid the possibility of picking up any interference from An̆duru.”

  “Oh, nice,” Kath says. For her, this is Disneyland. “What’s in the probe?”

  Nikki smiles.

  “Lots of toys. We raided the shelves at JPL and repurposed a lot of their instruments.”

  “Did you meet Sara Hendi?”

  “Sara oversaw the development of the X-ray Lithochemistry Spectrometer. The first version was deployed on the Mars Perseverance rover. Sara has given us the ability to switch from a panoramic sweep of An̆duru down to sections as small as a postage stamp.”

  “Oh, nice.”

  Kath’s repeating herself, but she can’t help it. Elvis and Graceland have got nothing on the JPL workshop.

  Nikki says, “We’ve got a variety of instruments onboard. The idea is to start with passive monitoring. We’re going to look at anything being radiated by the vessel. From there, we’ll switch to active tools like ground-penetrating radar. That’ll allow us to peer inside the craft.”

  “What about communication?” Kath asks.

  “The Orion will go radio-silent. We’re going to shut down everything on approach, possibly even the capsule’s life-support. The crew will wear suits for the duration of contact. We want An̆duru to interact with the probe in the first instance. That’ll give us time to understand what we’re dealing with.”

  “Smart.”

  “In the same way, we have passive and active communication protocols.”

  “Okay.”

  Kath is loving this. There’s a whole aspect of Firs
t Contact she hasn’t considered before now. NASA’s had its finest and brightest working on strategies for months. For Kath, it’s humbling to hear the outcomes of their research.

  “Our mission goal is to establish contact. We want to let them know there’s a space-faring intelligence down here. We’d like contact to remain in space for as long as possible.”

  “Agreed,” Kath says. “No chance of biological contamination or misunderstandings.”

  “Exactly. Our passive comms uses a pattern of pulses to represent the first ten prime numbers. In this way, we’re looking to convey that we use a base-ten numeric system. The pulses will move through the electromagnetic spectrum from UV to radio waves. Visible light will be repeated. Hopefully, they’ll realize that’s the sweet spot for us, but we want them to interact and respond wherever they’re comfortable.”

  Kath says, “So using simple math as a common point of understanding?”

  “Yes. From there, we have several scenarios we can use to proceed further. As an example, introducing mathematical symbols. 1 + 1 = 2 followed by 2 + 2 = 4. By combining the established pulses with symbols, we can start talking with them using math.”

  “Oh, I love it,” Kath says. “So two flashes, the image of a plus sign, two more flashes, the image of an equals sign, and then four flashes?”

  “Yeah. Arithmetic is our most basic form of logic. By approaching them like this, we’re trying to show them we’re interested in communicating. We’ll keep it basic, but we can introduce subtraction, multiplication, and division using the same approach.”

  “Do you know what I like about this?” Kath asks. “When people down here see you doing preschool sums with an alien intelligence, they’re going to put away their damn guns.”

  Nikki laughs. “Oh, I hope so.”

  Hours drift by as they talk, bouncing ideas off each other.

  The Galaxy descends.

  Twenty-eight wheels touch down on the Merritt Island runway beside the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. The aircraft comes to a halt. The nose cone opens and the front ramp lowers. Light floods in. The breeze is cool but not cold. A flatbed aircraft tractor comes up the ramp to remove the cargo. The loadmaster directs them to the side door.