by J M Leitch
He put his hands on the box, marvelling at the technology that enabled him to feel the texture of the cardboard as if it were real. He opened the unsealed virtual flaps and peered inside.
Jesus Christ! Nothing could have prepared him for what was in there. It was the last thing on Earth he expected to see. Gazing up at him with an unfocused stare out of violet coloured eyes was a baby – a naked, newborn baby girl.
Carlos’s face drained of all colour. He could not believe his eyes as he watched her kicking her dimpled legs and waving her chubby arms at him. But then her mood changed. She puckered up her mouth, thrashed her head this way and that and, as her face turned puce, she let out a piercing cry. So did Carlos.
His mind was racing. Was this the sign Zul promised? If so… why a baby?
The longer he stared the more desperate the baby became and when she shrieked again waving her little arms and legs at him in distress, he picked her up.
She felt so real and as Carlos cradled her in his arms he felt some primeval urge deep within him stir as he fell head over heels in unconditional love for the first time in his life. He was a clumsy giant compared with the tiny baby and would have done anything to protect her.
She settled as if she was a living being and Carlos rocked her awkwardly while she burrowed into his chest gurgling. He studied her features with wonderment; her elegantly shaped ears, her round indigo eyes darkening into depths he could only wonder at, the perfect tiny nose, the flawless cupid bow lips, and the soft fuzz of first hair the colour of sunbeams. She was so beautiful, it hurt.
He held her up to his face and kissed her cheek then hugged her again close to his chest, one big hand cradling her head into his shoulder, the other supporting her weight. He talked to her in a hushed voice until her breathing synchronised with his and for a moment they were as one.
But then he noticed her little form slowly changing. Fine, downy hair appeared all over her skin, which began to wrinkle as her eyes started to bulge. Her eyebrows and the hair on her head retracted as her legs shrunk and her nails disappeared. The shape of her head changed. Her eyes drifted further apart and it looked like someone was using a rubber to erase her facial features and blur them. Her head looked huge and ugly compared with the rest of her body. Her limbs grew shorter and her fingers and toes contracted into buds. Her whole body grew smaller and lighter until it dwindled into the tiniest tadpole in the palm of his hand and disappeared.
He looked up, shocked. He gazed around the room. He examined his hands again, searching for the bundle that had briefly given him such joy. He felt robbed. He rested his trembling hands on the edge of the table, as if clinging onto something big and solid to ground himself would help keep his thoughts grounded too.
That was when he heard a chorus of voices… very faint at first… then swelling in volume.
‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,
‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,
‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.’
It was a choir, but not any choir. It was the London Bach Choir as on the Stones’ late ‘60s album “Let it Bleed”. They were singing “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”.
Then the box and the sound faded, like the baby, into nothing, leaving Carlos singing the lyrics in his head.
He dashed to his terminal and checked where the hologram had originated from, but the only record he could see was of Rebecca’s virtual meeting.
Was he going mad? Had he imagined it? The baby? That song? He struggled to make sense out of what had just happened.
He’d just witnessed the miracle of creation – in reverse.
But what was its significance… and what was the point of the song?
Then, slowly, the pieces began to fall into place.
Carlos had a second secret that he’d never told a soul. On the day he’d gone to identify Elena’s body, to his great pain, he’d learned from the autopsy report that she was six weeks pregnant.
Suddenly he understood. The virtual infant he’d just held in his arms was his baby – his baby with Elena.
“You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”
He’d told Elena he didn’t want a baby. He got what he said he wanted. But as he now knew, it was a lie; he had wanted a baby. But then Elena had died and he certainly hadn’t wanted that.
The baby? The song? Zul had sent them. It was the sign. It was a powerful personal message and it was all the proof Carlos needed.
He sat still trying to digest the enormity of what had just come to pass. Then he stood up and strode out of the office with rediscovered determination. A rush of excitement grabbed him.
It was time to get off the fence.
***
Carlos burst into Corrinne’s office. It was his turn to make her jump. He had a different look about him. He was composed and confident. His energy was palpable. He looked like a man who had experienced a revelation, someone who was certain of his course and would not be compromised. For the first time since Elena’s death he looked in control.
‘Carlos! What is it? Has Hans come up with an explanation?’
‘No, Corrinne. I have. Zul is what he claims and I need to talk to Greg, the Secretary-General immediately. Get hold of him now on a secure line.’
‘What do you mean “secure”? There doesn’t seem to be any such thing anymore.’
‘Corrinne, I don’t care if Zul hears my conversation I just don’t want any humans listening in. And don’t tell anyone, do you hear? We must keep this confidential. And get the ITU-T report from Hans. I want six hard copies, as well an electronic one.’
Corrinne stood in front of Carlos with her mouth wide open. It was the first time ever he’d seen her dumbstruck. ‘But… but this is madness…’ she stammered.
‘Corrinne, I know what I’m doing.’
‘But…’
‘Now, please, get Greg on the line at once.’
CHAPTER 8
It was already dark when the yellow cab dropped Carlos outside an elegant eighteenth-century house in Sutton Place, Manhattan. The path cleared through the snow was beginning to ice over, so he took care picking his way, especially going up the steps to the huge front door. He rang the bell and seconds later a doorman greeted him by name. He ushered Carlos into the spacious hall, took his coat and led him towards a set of intricately carved wooden doors. The doorman knocked and opened one of them, gesturing for Carlos to enter.
He walked into the snug, dim room. There was a big fire blazing at the far end – a real fire. Carlos could hear it crackling and tall orange flames danced in the fireplace leaving glowing embers clinging to the chimney like fading fireflies. A smell of smoke spiked with pine permeated the room. The fire reminded Carlos of his childhood in Madrid.
A large figure loomed out of the shadows of a wing-backed chair and lumbered towards him. The man had a florid complexion that was more flushed than usual due to the heat of the fire. A bulbous veined nose dominated the face and plump cheeks, surrendering their fight against gravity, wobbled as he walked. It was Greg Howard, Secretary-General of the United Nations.
Greg’s large face broke into a smile as he approached. ‘Carlos. It’s good to see you.’ The voice was deep and vibrant and had the scarcely perceptible hint of an Australian accent.
Carlos shook his hand, which was surprisingly small for such a large man. It felt soft and warm.
‘How was your flight?’
‘Comfortable, thank you.’
‘Come on in. I’m sure you’d like a drink? What’s your poison?’
‘Something refreshing. Gin and tonic?’
‘Of course. Ice and lemon?’
‘Please.’
Greg fixed two drinks, handed one to Carlos and then settled back in his chair beside the fireplace, resting his own against his chest.
‘Sit, Carlos. What’s this all about.’
‘Since I left Vienna I’ve been trying to find the best way to explain about it to you.’ Carlos shrugged his shoulders.
‘Sí, I know. But I’m about to suggest something that is so… crazy… I have to set the scene. I want to make a picture in your mind.’
Greg sipped his drink, causing the ice to chink against the glass. ‘Okay. Fire away.’
Carlos’s eyes shone, reflecting the flames licking up the chimney. He jumped up and walked towards Greg’s chair.
‘I want you to imagine you’re looking at a man lying in a park in Chicago. You’re looking directly down on him from above. It’s like you’re in an elevator with a glass floor hanging right over him, but the lift shaft is invisible. The floor is one metre above the man. Now imagine you press a button for the first floor and the elevator goes up ten metres and stops, and every time you press a button for the next floor your distance from the man increases by one power of ten. At one thousand kilometres above the man, you can see the whole of Lake Michigan and everything round it. Of course you can’t see the man any more nor much that’s man-made, only large natural configurations.
‘You press another button and another. You rise higher and higher. You can now see the whole Earth. At one hundred thousand kilometres you can see the Earth and the moon as they move together in their orbits round the sun. Two floors further up and you can see the orbits of Venus and Mars and then Mercury, Jupiter and Saturn. The scale is now one hundred million kilometres and includes all the bodies in the solar system that mankind has ever visited. Two more floors up and you can see the orbits of Neptune, Uranus and Pluto… you can see our entire solar system. As you go further and further away, the solar system shrinks and our sun gets dimmer.
‘At one hundred thousand light years you can see our whole galaxy. But soon this has shrunk to a little dot of light. At ten million light years you’ll see other dots of light surrounding it. They’re neighbouring galaxies. At the next stop you’ll see they’re just part of a much larger gathering of several hundred galaxies called the Virgo Cluster. At a billion light years all you can see is a uniform distribution of dots. Each dot is a separate galaxy.’
Carlos paced up and down the room, hands flying to illustrate the grandeur of the image he was trying to paint in Greg’s mind’s eye.
‘By the top floor the number of dots has grown to more than one hundred billion and you can’t go any further because your view has already taken in the whole of the observable universe. The universe could be larger than this but we can’t see any further from our planet because, however powerful our telescopes are, we can’t look to a distance greater than the distance light has travelled since it came into existence fifteen billion years ago.’
Carlos hesitated and looked at Greg.
‘Okay. I’m following. But where’s all this leading?’
‘I want you to think about that number – really think about what it means. One hundred billion. ONE HUNDRED BILLION galaxies in the KNOWN universe. It’s such a huge number we can’t visualise it. Now, for a moment, imagine how many more galaxies exist that we don’t know about?’
‘Where are you heading with this, Carlos?’
Carlos held up his hands to silence Greg. ‘With this picture in your mind, Greg, can you honestly say you believe our planet Earth, our tiny insignificant planet Earth, is the only place in the universe that can support intelligent life?’
Greg was silent. The question was unexpected. He cleared his throat. ‘I suppose logic suggests that the odds are somewhat against it.’
Carlos smiled and pointed at him.
‘Hold that thought. On Monday I received the first of what we thought were hoax messages from someone I named Zul, who claims to represent the Galactic Federation.’
‘The what?’
‘The Galactic Federation.’
‘And what the hell’s that when it’s at home?’
‘Exactly what it says. You see Zul told me he’s not from this planet.’
Mid sip, Greg nearly choked on his drink. ‘An extraterrestrial?’
‘That’s what he claims.’
An incredulous expression intensified across Greg’s ruddy features. Then he smiled. He shook his head making his jowls swing, and his shoulders heaved up and down. ‘Good gracious! This is a joke, Carlos. You’re having me on.’
‘No Greg, I’m very serious. We don’t have absolute proof, but I do believe it’s a claim we should consider.’
‘Have you taken leave of your senses? This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. It must be a hacker – a hoax.’
‘That’s what we thought at first. But here’s the problem. Hans Baade, our Network Security Manager, can’t trace the origin of the messages. He passed it on to ITU-T and they came up with nothing too. The e-mails have appeared out of nowhere. It’s possible, just possible, this contact is real.’
Greg looked away and stared into the flames.
The sound of the door opening made Carlos spin around. It was Tracy, Greg’s wife. She approached Carlos with a big smile and put her hands on his shoulders, tipping up her face for him to kiss. Although younger, she reminded Carlos of his mother and he had to suppress the urge to give her an especially affectionate hug.
‘Carlos. It’s lovely to see you. You do look well. How are you?’
‘I’m great, Tracy. And it’s good to see you too. You look fantastic.’
‘Terri’s in town for a few days. It’s so nice to have her here. You know how much I miss my girls now they’ve left the nest for good.’ Tracy turned to her husband. ‘Darl, sorry to interrupt, but dinner’s ready.’
Greg beamed up at his wife. ‘You go on. We’ll catch up with you in a moment.’
‘Well don’t be too long. We’re all starving.’
Greg looked at Carlos as his wife left the room and shook his head again.
‘I’m finding it hard to take in what you just told me.’
‘There’s more I need to explain about. Then you’ll see how it could be possible.’
Greg coughed into his fist. ‘I don’t know Carlos, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.’ He drained his glass. ‘Come on, mustn’t keep the others waiting.’ Greg heaved himself out of the chair. ‘It’s a stroke of luck you caught me on one of my few Saturday nights off duty.’
‘I feel bad taking up your family time. You don’t get much of it.’
‘Don’t fret about that, Carlos. Mind you, now you’ve told me why you’re here I’m beginning to have second thoughts. Obviously,’ he went on, padding towards the door, ‘we’ll not say anything about this in front of the others. We can talk more after dinner.’
***
Greg sat in a sturdy leather chair behind a massive desk, the focal point of his study. The walls on either side and behind him were lined with shelves that held hundreds of books and periodicals. Dinner had finished an hour before and after coffee and some polite small talk, Greg and Carlos had excused themselves and withdrawn.
‘Let’s have a look at these messages then,’ Greg said. ‘Pull up a chair.’ He cleared a space in front of Carlos and pushed the keyboard, mouse and monitor towards him. Carlos used his RFId tag to log in into the UN system, opened the original message from Zul and played the audio attachment. He then played the two short videos.
‘He’s got a commanding voice and manner, but that doesn’t make him an extraterrestrial. What did Hans say exactly?’
Carlos clicked the mouse. Instantly Hans’s report appeared on the screen. Carlos adjusted the monitor for Greg. ‘Here, see for yourself.’
Greg fished for the half moon spectacles in his breast pocket.
When he finished Carlos called up the ITU-T report, which he also read. He sat back in his chair and put his glasses down on the desk. ‘Well that is pretty incredible. Not knowing who sent them.’
Carlos shrugged. ‘Exactly.’
‘And Hans was sitting at your terminal when the last one came in?’
‘Sí.’
‘When you were with NA
SA, or since you’ve been with us, have you ever heard of anything like this?’
‘There are always rumours about extraterrestrials. But that’s all they are – rumours. Now there are a few organisations around with mandates to look for life in the universe. Here in the States there’s SETI, the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence programme. And then there’s WMAP. They scan the skies using a wide range of microwave frequencies. If something unusual showed up, they’d know. Then there are other organisations outside the US doing similar things. I’ve spoken to all of them, but no one’s reported any unusual activity.’
‘How about UFO sightings? All those supposed investigations conducted by NASA?’
‘I was never involved. There are books and videos on YouTube with claims by ex-US Army generals and military pilots, but nothing irrefutable.’
‘Wait a moment,’ Greg chuckled, ‘back in 2010 didn’t the media report you were going to announce your appointment as UFO Ambassador at a Royal Society conference?’
Carlos laughed. ‘Perhaps that’s why Zul contacted me. Seriously though, different governments have made investigations into UFO sightings and of course there was Roswell here in the States, but there’ve never been any conclusive results that I know of.’
Greg cleared his throat. ‘Earlier you led me through a graphic visualisation of how enormous the known universe is and how many billion galaxies are in it. One hundred billion, you said.’
Carlos nodded. ‘Sí, that’s right.’
‘But even so, I thought it was very difficult for a planet to develop conditions that would allow life to begin. And then – for it to evolve to where we are today – I thought it was virtually impossible?’
Again Carlos nodded. ‘You’re right. Many challenges have to be overcome before life can reach our stage of development and many things threaten our extinction. Even so, our own existence proves that life can develop, that it is possible. And if it can happen once it can happen again.’
