by Bobby Sun
—they were outside her house, on her own front lawn, and several fuzzy, bee-like insects the size of hummingbirds with long, flexible probosces were feeding from her flowers. She recognised them; the hummingbees were friendly, inquisitive and intelligent animals, and occasionally crawled on Maia and her when they were relaxing on the porch. Several new hummingbees arrived, led by an excitable specimen. They hovered on the edge of the porch, breaking into the communicative dance of their species. It was a complex aerial manoeuvre, taking place in a tightly defined area, a ballet of call-and-response. A single flash appeared, spiking just above her house, and the hummingbees began to trace black gridlines in the air with their bodies. The funnel, and the grid within it, retraced itself within the confines of the dance, creating a spherical web traversed by a series of chords. More coordinates?
She raised her voice, shouting at the flash, “What is this? Why are you showing us these things?” The flash made no reply. It drifted closer, stopping right in front of the porch, and dipped into the ground. It spiked, crisping the grass in a neat circle, and lifted off. The hummingbees dispersed, driven off by the heat, but the sphere they had traced in the air remained, etching itself into Jingru’s memories. The house faded away as the Tardigrade was surrounded once again by a bright, white glow, and then darkness.
* * *
Bugs. Bugs chirping. Something on my back.
Jingru woke up. She was still synced. The Tardigrade was in one piece, anchored firmly to the ground, and it was covered in small, fuzzy mole-crickets, which had emerged from their burrows after the storm. The chemical sensors picked up a thin, shiny layer of the soil compounds, which clung to the Tardigrade’s armour; this, apparently was what had attracted the mole-crickets, which were busily licking it off.
“Dr Menon? Dr Menon!” She sent a loud feedback screech through the internal comms circuit, which startled him awake.
“Aaahhghhgh. I’m awake, yeah.”
“Glad you’re awake.” She checked the time; they had been out for about six hours since the flashes had done their thing. “Dr Menon, did we get all that?”
“Yeah, mate, every second of it. What was that?”
“Coordinates. A map of some kind, perhaps. I suspect the team at Central will be very interested. Come on,” she said, turning the Tardigrade around, “let’s go home.”
* * *
Jingru flopped onto her couch, her freshly-showered body sinking into the cushions. She’d reached home, deactivated the Vega Protocol, sent her immersive recording and report to Central and then staggered into her shower, drained by the day’s work. Dr Menon had added his own recording and report to hers before collapsing into his shuttle; Ariel had activated the autopilot and taken them home. She was now alone, and completely drained. She picked her jawpiece up off the coffee table, where she’d left it before heading into the bathroom. “Aimee, give me a Class 1 secure line to Maia. Authorisation zero-three-five-nine-two-six-eight. I don’t want anyone snooping on us.”
Her jawpiece clicked, and almost immediately she could hear Maia say, “Hey, shweedie, whashup?”
Jingru could hear Maia chew a couple of times before swallowing. “Ah. Sorry, Jingru, that was lunch. I swear, they’ve got the best roast duck here. My presentation’s in two hours, I can’t wait. Glad you’re back, by the way. Knew you’d make it.”
“Oh, beb. Are you somewhere private?”
“Hold on,” Maia said, pushing her chair out. Jingru could hear her clopping footsteps, until she found a quiet corner. “I’m ready, what is it?”
“I think we’ve discovered something big.”
“What?”
“I’m on a Class 1 secure line, so only the authorised officials will be able to hear this. The flashes showed Dr Menon and me something while we were out there, synced with the Tardigrade. A set of coordinates expressed in the movement of the planet, in its life and its weather. I think Earth-IX isn’t just a planet. It’s a living computer, and everything on it is a calculation. I don’t know if the flashes are sentient, or if they’re just automatons, but they weren’t attacking me; they were trying to communicate.”
“So … intelligent life. You found intelligent life.”
“Maybe not here, but yes. This is evidence that somewhere out there are, or were, species capable of turning a planet into a supercomputer. They wanted someone else to find something, but not until we had the tech to handle it; that’s why the flashes, their communications devices, were designed to kill most living things on contact.”
“Damn. Damn.”
“This changes everything. Central will debrief me tomorrow, once they’ve had a chance to go through our reports. I’ll keep you updated. Now, get back to your roast duck before anyone starts wondering where you’ve been. Enjoy it for me. Love you!”
“Love you too, sweetie. Bye!”
The call ended with a click. Jingru exhaled, leaned back and closed her eyes. She focused on the pattern she’d seen, the chorded sphere she recalled in perfect clarity. She let it take over her thoughts, the mystery of the pattern sweeping through her mind, and then she let it float away.
Disconnecting her jawpiece, she curled up and closed her eyes, right there on the couch. Rest now, she thought as she drifted off. Things are about to get seriously busy.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Begin Reading
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Bobby Sun
Art copyright © 2017 by Gregory Manchess
