“Okay, have your fun. But it’s not so simple. If it were, I would have figured out how to say it.”
Silla looked into his eyes. “I know. And I’m glad you couldn’t figure it out.”
Then she pulled him close and kissed him on the lips. At first he thought he was getting a pity kiss. As it continued, he came to realize it was nothing of the sort.
“Now don’t feel too proud of yourself,” she warned. “You didn’t say anything that deserved that.”
“Then why—”
“Because it’s not always about what you say, Kilmer. Sometimes it’s what you didn’t say that makes all the difference. You could have used some cliché and taken the easy way out. I know that. And I’m glad you didn’t.”
~ 69 ~
Day 21. Morning.
For Kilmer and Silla, the night had only gotten better once they moved from the Treaty Room to the Lincoln Bedroom. The one regrettable moment occurred early the next morning when Silla stepped out of the Lincoln Bedroom at the precise moment that President Whitman was stepping into the same hallway. Whitman said nothing except good morning. Silla muttered something in response that was unintelligible even to herself. Kilmer laughed out loud when she told him about it later. Silla laughed about it precisely never.
The team met in the Oval Office at 10 a.m. Triad’s analysis of ET-1’s internet activity had led to a few preliminary inferences. First, the phrase must come appeared to represent an ultimatum rather than a sense of urgency. Second, their browsing history suggested that ET-1 ought to know that there wasn’t any leader of Earth—but it seemed they wanted someone whom everyone else would follow. Third, we will rule might not have meant “we will dominate,” as had been widely assumed. It might have been used in the sense of “we will judge.” Druckman wasn’t sure this was good news. “You might prefer to have someone rule over you if the alternative is that they’ll find you guilty and order your execution.”
For Kilmer, it was still a ray of hope. If they plan to judge, they haven’t made up their minds—which means it might be possible to influence them.
The last part of the discussion featured D. Kilmer.
“ET-1 has been studying you quite a bit, Professor,” Art explained. “They’ve accessed your writings and downloaded much of your work. But we’re not sure what that tells us.”
“So we still don’t know why they asked for me?”
“That’s what we almost concluded,” Art confessed. “Then, around two o’clock last night, Agent Silla called us with a great idea. I don’t know why you never sleep, Agent Silla, but I’m not complaining.”
Kilmer knew exactly why Silla had been awake late into the night. Around 1:45 she had finally ordered Kilmer to go to sleep. That’s when she had left the room to make some calls.
Silla described the breakthrough. “All this time, we’d been analyzing what ET-1 had said and done. But sometimes, the most important thing is what is not said or done.” She gave Kilmer the briefest of smiles. “So I asked the team to start looking for what ET-1 had not searched. Here’s what I mean. If we see that they executed a combined search for Kilmer and Whitman, we might deduce that they’re trying to understand the relationship between them. But what if they did not combine these search terms? Wouldn’t that provide insights as well? It might mean that they don’t care about this relationship, which has implications of its own. The key, then, is to think not only about the search terms they combined—which tell a certain story—but also the combinations that we might have expected them to make, but which they never actually did.”
“Excellent,” Druckman exclaimed.
Art explained that Kilmer and Whitman had, in fact, never been searched together. It didn’t appear that the aliens thought Kilmer was advising the president. Nor did they seem to think he was a world leader. While Whitman had been searched in combination with various other world leaders, Kilmer had never been associated with any. Perhaps more interestingly, although Kilmer had been combined with terms related to war, history, diplomacy, and strategy, he had never been associated with other people or an organization of any kind. Not the US government, the UN, the CIA, the DoD, or any political or religious organization. All these things had been linked to other individuals—but never to Kilmer.
It seemed the aliens didn’t think Kilmer had any power or authority whatsoever.
“That professors hold no influence over the affairs of the world appears to be a universal constant,” Energy Secretary Rao mused. That got some laughs, with Dr. Menon, calling in from NASA, finding it especially funny.
Art continued. “A picture begins to emerge. They don’t see Kilmer as close to the president. Nor do they connect him to any other leader or power center on the planet. They don’t seem to care what he knows about our military or technological capabilities. So, you have to wonder, why is this guy so special?”
“The eternal question,” Strauss noted, drawing laughs from everyone—including Kilmer and Silla.
“So the team kept digging, and some of the things they checked probably went a little overboard. You’ll be glad to know, Professor, that ET-1 does not associate you with human sacrifice or entertainment, for example.”
“Seriously? And why would entertainment have anything to do with this?” Kilmer asked.
Art shrugged. “Some people on the team thought it was worth crossing off the list. You know, to make sure they didn’t think you were some sort of performer—like a singer or an acrobat. To make sure they didn’t want you for entertainment value. Like a court jester. Or an elephant that dances. Or—”
“Or what? A stripper? Have the folks at Triad lost their minds?”
Kilmer shook his head, but the rest of the room was practically on the floor laughing. Dr. Menon sounded like he was having a hard time breathing.
When the room regained its composure, Art continued.
“Sorry, Professor,” he said with an apologetic smile. “Our analysts are encouraged to think outside the box.” Then he turned back to the group. “Let’s get to what does seem meaningful. The question was why, given all this, they wanted Professor Kilmer at all. Based on our analysis, it looks less like a mistake than it did before. They know all about him, they’re not curious or mistaken about how much power he has, and they’re not confused about what his role is—yet they still want him. Why they’d want to talk to a historian—or to this one specifically—we don’t know. But they do.”
Silla looked at Kilmer, knowing full well what Triad’s findings implied.
Kilmer knew as well. “Madam President, I don’t see how we get around it now. If this isn’t a case of mistaken identity, it becomes riskier to say no to their demand—and more likely that I’ll learn something if I go there.”
The rest of the group had just started to weigh in on the issue when Art interrupted the discussion. A new message had just been received from ET-1, arriving precisely twenty-three hours after the aliens had sent their last message.
M.u.s.t. come t.o. u.s. a.m.b.a.s.s.a.d.o.r. D. K.i.l.m.e.r.
A.t. 8 p.m. t.o.n.i.g.h.t. h.e. w.i.l.l. enter ET-1.
No more t.i.m.e. i.s. left f.o.r. E.a.r.t.h.
D.o. n.o.t. test ET-1.
ET-1’s language skills had obviously improved further, but Art noticed something others had missed. ET-1 didn’t broadcast the word left one letter at a time—even though humans had never taught them the Hermes signature for it. How? “What we did teach,” Art explained, “is left versus right. They used our signal for that version of left and imported it into this context. It’s a good sign that they’re ready for conversations.”
Art also singled out the use of 8 p.m. ET-1 had taught itself how humans measured time. “What we consider 8 p.m. is based on a combination of how long it takes the Earth to rotate and our arbitrary decision to partition that time into twenty-four segments of equal length. There’s no reason to assume that an alien civilization would also measure time—if at all—using this approach. So again, it demons
trates that they’ve done a lot of work on their end to get this right.”
Something about what Art had just said nagged at Kilmer. A thought tried to manifest in his mind, but he couldn’t grasp it.
Silla pointed out that ET-1 had clarified some things that had been ambiguous in the earlier message. “It suggests they know the earlier communication was unclear. They’re trying to make sure we understand.”
There was that thought again, Kilmer realized—struggling to be born. What is it?
No one had a theory for why leader of Earth was no longer mentioned. Everyone agreed, however, that the language was more threatening than in the previous message. Most of the group—everyone except Silla and General Allen—now supported sending Kilmer to ET-1. General Allen wanted to negotiate a middle ground, such as having Kilmer speak to the aliens remotely.
NSA Garcia pushed back on the idea of making a counteroffer. “ET-1’s demand is very specific now, and we would be rejecting it quite conspicuously. They’ve asked him to enter ET-1, they’ve set a deadline, and they’ve made it clear that our time is up. How safe do we feel rejecting such a demand with so much at stake? Are we willing to bet millions of lives that they’ll see our counteroffer as reasonable?”
No one seemed eager to make that bet.
Nielsen agreed with Garcia, as did Strauss. “Pushing back at this point risks escalation,” said the defense secretary. “And it’s not like they’re asking us to surrender. They’re asking only that we send an ambassador. This is something we should do—one false move could lead to war.”
One false move could lead to war.
Kilmer had been nodding along in silent agreement, but Strauss’s statement suddenly dislodged something in his mind—and he stopped nodding.
The mood in the room had turned somber. Everyone knew they had just agreed to send one of their own to face an uncertain fate. Whitman informed the group that she would make a final decision by the time Kilmer landed at Station Zero, but it was clear that she agreed with the majority.
Nielsen looked apologetic. Silla seemed anxious. Only one person was beginning to see a way out of the predicament. It was Kilmer—and he had Strauss to thank for it.
~ 70 ~
“No, I don’t think you should wear a tie if you visit ET-1. I think they will shoot you on the spot for impersonating the real Professor Kilmer.”
Silla was sitting on Kilmer’s bed, watching him pack for his move to Station Zero. He had more clothes to pack than he’d brought with him to the White House on Day 14. Two days after his arrival in DC, an officer had gone to Boston to bring more of his belongings—including the tie he had left on the floor of his closet.
Kilmer walked over to her. “Okay, I want to run something by you. I want you to critique the idea before I share it with the president. I’m advising on things that directly involve me now, so I worry that I’m biased.”
“You don’t think I’m biased when it comes to you?”
“I know you are. But it might work in our favor. My bias usually pushes me to underappreciate the risk I face. Your bias tends to be overprotective of me.”
Silla exaggerated an eyebrow raise. “Overprotective? You mean like a nag? Am I smothering you, Kilmer?”
“You don’t smother me enough, actually,” he said, joining her on the bed. She pushed him away immediately, almost knocking him to the floor.
“Just pack your bags and tell me what you’re thinking,” she said. “I’m eager to get to the part where I tell you that you’re out of your mind. That’s always my favorite.”
Kilmer obeyed. “Okay, so here’s my first thought. I think the aliens might agree to a compromise along the lines of what General Allen was proposing—that I speak with them remotely.”
Silla looked skeptical. “Why do you think that? Pushing back could be risky.”
“Remember when we discussed how the aliens wouldn’t come all this way only to get offended if we knock on their door? Strauss reminded me of that when he said one false move could start a war. Well, that can’t be right.”
“I don’t often agree with Strauss, but I think this is different. We would be rejecting a specific demand, after they’ve warned us that time is running out. It’s not the same thing as saying hello when they first land.”
“Yes, but I’m also thinking about what you said today—that the aliens are speaking more clearly now, as if they understand there’s a risk of miscommunication. If so, they wouldn’t just blow us out of the water the moment we say something that sounds disrespectful. They’d recognize that it could just be a misunderstanding. So maybe we start by asking them to meet us halfway. They might say yes. If they don’t, they’ll clarify that their demand is non-negotiable.”
Silla considered it. “I see the point—but I still think it’s risky. Their demand is pretty unambiguous.”
“Okay, I see that,” Kilmer admitted. “So let’s add one last layer to all this.”
“Go for it.”
“Imagine you’re going out to dinner—just you. How long will you take to get ready?”
“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes.”
“Now imagine that you’re going on a date with me. How long will you take to get ready?”
“Maybe two minutes.”
“Very funny.”
“Okay, fine—longer.”
“Why?”
“Kilmer—give me a break. You know why.”
“Fine, let’s try this instead. Think back to the toughest class you took in college. How long did you study for the final exam?”
“Maybe… six hours.”
“Why so much?”
“Because it was probably worth half of my grade.”
“Okay. And when you showed up to take the test, if the professor suddenly announced that it would only be worth five percent of your grade, how would you feel?”
“Pretty annoyed. All that studying for no reason.”
“Hmm. That’s actually a bit disappointing.”
“Shut up, Kilmer. Get to the point.”
“The point is, of course you’d be annoyed. Because there’s no way you would study so much if your grades weren’t on the line.”
“I get it, Kilmer. I’m not as big of a nerd as you are. Is that it?”
Kilmer took both of her hands in his and pulled her up off the bed. “That’s exactly it, Silla. No one is as big of a nerd as I am. In fact, I can’t imagine anyone in the entire universe doing so much work if so little was at stake.”
~ 71 ~
At 2:15 p.m., Kilmer and Silla joined President Whitman and VP Nielsen in the Oval Office.
Kilmer explained his idea. “Art kept telling us how hard the aliens seem to be working—how much effort they’ve been devoting to mastering our language and learning words and ideas that they can’t possibly use in most conversations. Why are they doing that? You don’t need to work so hard if you’re just planning to blow someone up. You don’t need that level of mastery if you just want to rob a planet of their resources, or torture them, or put them to work as slaves. I’ve had PhD students with careers on the line who did less work over six years than ET-1 has done in a day. It makes you wonder—how much do they have on the line?”
Whitman considered it for a moment. “What do you think it means, Professor?”
“I’m working on two ideas. First—maybe our situation isn’t as desperate as we thought. Usually, when we think about who has more power in a negotiation, we think about who’s bigger and stronger and can do more damage. If that’s all that matters, we’re in big trouble. But often, your real source of leverage is not how hard you can hit them, but how much value you can create for them. If we have something they need, we have power. Whatever is motivating them to work so hard—whatever problem they hope to solve by communicating with us—if it’s something only we can address, it would give us some leverage.”
“What could they need from us?” Nielsen asked.
“That’s the second idea I wante
d to share. Triad’s analysis suggests that the aliens didn’t pick me by mistake. So why pick a historian?”
“Maybe they want to learn about human beings—and our past,” Nielsen suggested.
“If so, then speaking to me would be very inefficient. They can learn almost everything about our history on the internet. Moreover, they didn’t say send us a historian. They asked for me—even though they can access most of what I’ve written online as well. How much more could I possible add? And the way they’re going about this, it seems that they don’t just want to talk to me, they’re prepared for a serious conversation. Which reinforces the idea that they want something from us—or, somehow, from me—that they can’t get by simply dropping bombs. And the good news is, we can test whether that’s true right away.”
Kilmer suggested they propose General Allen’s compromise: Kilmer would speak to ET-1, but only from a distance. Given how hard the aliens were working to specifically have a conversation with Kilmer, it seemed unlikely they would attack just because Earth-side made a counteroffer—especially if it was made well before the 8 p.m. deadline. “And we keep it simple. We set up a table for me just outside the kill-zone. I sit there and communicate with them using whatever system Art sets up. If they say yes to doing it that way, it supports the notion that we have at least some leverage—which is useful to know. If they say no, then I go to ET-1, and we try to make progress that way.”
Whitman agreed to the plan, and Silla said she would coordinate with Triad and Station Zero to get things set up.
When the meeting concluded, Whitman approached Kilmer and Silla.
“Thank you, Professor, for everything. We’re going to miss having you here. Though I do plan to get you back soon—hopefully in just a few days. We’ll talk this evening to go over the guidelines for your conversation with ET-1. We obviously can’t script everything, so I’m glad I can trust your judgment. Just be safe.”
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