Black Infinity

by Salvador Mercer

  Maria shivered, then brought her head down, pupils coming back to stare into the camera. “I told you already; Prepare for the reaping. Prepare for culling. Prepare for servitude.” She dropped limp as both men held her, preventing her from hitting the floor.

  “Take her to sick bay,” Jules said, turning to face the camera and taking a few steps closer so it was mainly her upper torso that was visible. “I recommended we wait further before questioning her. Officer Mayer has been battling depression and fear as well as confusion the last twenty-four hours.”

  Hill came partially into view. “She’s never had an outburst like this before, Director Crandon. I swear it to you. She’s been fairly normal and stable since regaining consciousness.”

  Jules took the man by the arm to get his attention. “They’ll understand, Ron. Now go see to Maria.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that,” Doctor Hill said, leaving the screen and presumably following Carter and Anderson to sick bay where they would carry her.

  Jules resumed her attention on the screen. “I can’t speak for Maria, but as we’ve put in our reports, it appears that the incident involving her abduction was a form of interrogation by either the aliens or their technology.

  “Maria clearly stated in her report that she does not feel that there are any sentient alien lifeforms in our system, or at least on Mars right now. She regarded the intense blue light as a form of probing of her mental status, and perhaps even her memories. Doctor Hill has a theory that the light is a form of energy that somehow activates the nervous system and that this activity results in sensory overload to the point of pain—intense pain.”

  Jules took another step closer and peered intently into the camera.

  “I’m the only other crewmember to have experienced this probing, and it was only for a short few seconds. Officer Mayer may have been exposed to it for hours. I can tell you from my own personal experience that it felt as if every brain cell I had was firing for no good reason and my skin was on fire. Doctor Hill described this in his reports as a form of peripheral neuropathy, one that causes intense pain even though there is no visual cause. I have no doubt that prolonged exposure to it could easily be the cause for Officer Mayer’s behavior today.

  “One more thing. She said something interesting to me last night. It didn’t make sense, but now I’m wondering. While there’s no actual sentient entity behind everything that happened, she felt as if some instructions, information, or data regarding the aliens or their plans inadvertently leaked into her consciousness, and she felt it was not designed, but rather a consequence or symptom of what their primary objective was in taking and probing her in the first place.

  “I’m sure I’m not making much sense, but if you’re looking for answers, I’m afraid to say we don’t have them. You’ll need to ask some folks that are more intelligent than we are. We’ll take care of Maria and report back in four hours. Send any orders or instructions if you wish, but I’d prefer to be able to care for my crew right now, my way, and that means rest. Red Horizon out.”

  The feed died and was replaced with a camera angle of the president and her closest advisors. A smaller picture-in-picture was showing the entire conference room. No one spoke for a few long seconds as the entire incident was digested. Many eyes turned to the president herself in anticipation.

  Smith was the first to mutter under his breath, “That could have gone better.”

  Rock continued to ignore the man, and finally, President Powers did speak. “Director Crandon. It looks like your crew members up there have been through a lot. Do you have any recommendations for them ... or for us?”

  All eyes went to Rock, either live in the room or via the monitor. He sighed and spoke, keeping a steady grip on the arms of his chair. “Madam President, I concur with Commander Monroe right now. They’re living this in real time and should be given a chance to rest if that is her assessment. In the meantime, she made a good point.”

  “Which point was that?” Powers asked.

  “She mentioned asking someone more intelligent. Is Doctor Navari with you?”

  There was some movement and a camera was pointed towards his seat and adjusted so that he was visible in the smaller picture. “I’m here, Director Crandon.”

  “I have Doctor Marjorie Jones sitting next to me. I think it’s time we listened to them more attentively right now. Hear what they have to say.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you, Director Crandon,” the president said. “Doctor Navari, your thoughts?”

  The man had a pen in his hand and moved it up towards the top of his paper, saying, “I think the science officer said there was to be a ripping, a cutting, and a servitude regarding our species.”

  “Is he referring to humans?” Vice President Lee asked, from off camera.

  “Ah, Doctor, she said a reaping and culling, then servitude,” Marge chimed in, and Rock noticed her own notepad and pen. He saw so much writing on the pad that he scarcely believed she could physically transcribe that much information in such a short amount of time.

  Doctor Navari responded, “Ah, yes, sorry; my notes were written hastily.” The man pushed his glasses further back on his nose. “I speak for myself only, but Doctor Jones—regarding what the aliens might want from our species—wouldn’t you agree that from the seven rationales for intent we can eliminate religious, political, provisional, and entertainment, leaving the three most obvious?”

  Marge finished, “Militaristic, labor, and technological.”

  “Yes,” Navari said. “Using Torwell’s theorem, that would eliminate over half.”

  “Which of the remaining three would you categorize as most likely?” Marge asked.

  “One would think technology, but now I’m not so sure,” Navari began. “Labor seemed most likely, but after finishing the genome, I’d say it’s between militaristic and technological. How do you see it?”

  Marge nodded. “I concur with your assessment.”

  Navari turned from the camera to look at the president. “You have our answer—at least down to two of the Seven Bases of Intent as outlined by Torwell’s theorem.”

  “I remember reading that; someone enlighten my memory, please,” Powers said.

  Navari started, “Frank Torwell, a leading psychiatrist and anthropologist of the last two decades, promulgated the theorem of intent in bringing a mathematical and logical approach to the question of extraterrestrial life. It starts by addressing not if alien life forms exist—that would be his axiom—but rather why they would exist, and what intent they would have in interacting with our species.”

  Marge added, “He was a leading pioneer in understanding the rationale and reasoning behind our SETI program.”

  Powers looked pensive, then turned her attention to Marge, apparently seeking a simpler explanation. “These were the scenarios we reviewed regarding what the aliens were after?”

  “Exactly,” Marge said. “We’re using it as a foundation for understanding what we’re up against and what the aliens want from us.”

  “How did that small clip from Officer Mayer help the two of you to agree on what the aliens want from us?”

  “First,” Marge began, “Doctor Navari and I have already come to several conclusions with regards to the genome coding that we found four years ago. Using the philosophy of Occam’s razor, we simply eliminated the seven bases for intent that Torwell laid out. We’re down to two now out of seven. We’ve written this in our reports, and I’ve developed my own theory with an intentional foundation of militaristic intent. That is what I tried to convey to you and your advisors.”

  Powers sifted through her papers and found what she was looking for. She took a moment to review it, and no one spoke. Then, she put it down and addressed Marge directly. “Doctor Jones, your theory states that humans were designed by the aliens to be soldiers. That’s the correct theory on my desk. Is that the one you’re referring to?”

  “Yes, it is, though I stated in my conclusions that huma
ns were most likely engineered to evolve into a warrior caste. That should be my exact wording.”

  “Then why does doctor Navari think there is another aspect to their intent?” Powers asked.

  Navari fielded that question. “I haven’t hypothesized on one intent yet. There can be two; it doesn’t necessarily mean that there is only one purpose behind their actions. For example, we eliminated provisional and labor, but the alien species could very well use us as workers and eat those who aren’t capable of sustained physical output. In such a case, we could be mistaken in our assumptions. It is dangerous to speculate, but you asked us to do so.”

  “Provisional?” Powers asked.

  “As in provisions; food, sustenance, that sort of thing.” Navari nodded at her.

  Vice President Lee spoke. “Do you mean to say we’re like cattle?”

  “We’ve gone over every scenario multiple times, in depth,” Navari said, a hint of impatience finding its way into the man’s tone. “The cattle scenario is overused and cliché, but it does merit noting that some cattle can work, others are used for nourishment production—and I’m talking about milk here—and finally, the last use is at a slaughter house. One species, three purposes. All else is redundant at this point.”

  Powers took the floor back from her second-in-command. “That’s not what I just heard. One of you two give it to me straight. What are we facing?”

  Rock pulled the microphone closer to him and spoke quickly. “Madam President, I think they did their best, and you must concede that at this point there simply isn’t enough data to extrapolate an accurate analysis. If you must have an answer, then accept what Doctor Jones has presented to you and your staff. That would be the best advice that NASA can give the executive branch at this time.”

  Powers didn’t miss a beat. “Then present a recommendation as to a course of action—one that doesn’t involve altering the launch of Black Infinity.”

  Rock lowered his voice and whispered to Marge, “Let her have it.”

  Marge nodded. “Madam President, at this time, I’d say we must prepare for several things. First, we’ve spent years hardening our electrical equipment; insulating and grounding our most sensitive computers, machines, and weapons. The reaction by Alpha Target on our space assets demonstrates more than enough evidence for us to classify this unknown species as hostile. Obviously, we don’t like to think of it that way, but reality can be brutal. I spent years looking and hoping for the day when this would happen, and it led to something enlightening for our species and our civilization, but there is something obvious happening here that informs me that our new adversary is not what we think it may be.”

  “We’ve been trying to put a label on them for years,” Powers said. “Are you going to tell me that you now know what is?”

  Marge looked away from the camera under the large screen that showed the president with a stern and serious demeanor, instead turning to face Admiral Nicholson. “I’m not one for promoting violence or war, but I can say that in this regard, that is exactly what we’re facing. I think our military and technology is what they’re after, and we must fight to defend it.”

  There were several murmurs in both rooms before the president called everyone to order. “How do you propose we engage in combat with a technologically superior species and survive, much less come out of that engagement victorious?”

  Marge gave the admiral another look, saying, “If they’re so intelligent, then why can’t they open their own doors?”

  THE MEETING HAD RECESSED for lunch and what was sure to be a heated debate on current events. Rock had ordered lunch to be served from the cafeteria so that they could discuss what had just happened before they resumed with the president.

  “So now you’re Rambo?” Smith asked, looking at Marge. He was drinking a less-than-hot cup of coffee and showing every sign of not liking it.

  “What conflict are you talking about?” Nicholson asked, sincerity in his voice. “We haven’t come across anything other than those black, floating orbs.”

  Marge was pacing the room, occasionally looking out the glass window to the control room floor below. While both Lisa and Jack were in the room, they had remained silent throughout the discussion.

  Marge stopped mid-stride when she reached the exact opposite point of where the admiral stood, saying, “Things are getting clearer for me. Let me call my colleague.”

  Marge used the conference room video phone to dial Doctor Navari while Lisa and Jack looked at each other in slight confusion and amazement. They hadn’t heard her refer to the geneticist that way before.

  “Hello?” Navari’s voice said from the speaker. There was no video feed.

  “Sorry to bother you right now, Doctor, but do you have a few minutes to go over our Torwell list one more time?”

  “Of course, not a problem,” the man said. “I see that you’re thinking this through.”

  “Before we begin, I want to inform you that you’re on our speaker phone. Everyone at NASA from the prior conference call can hear you even though you’re on your cell phone,” Marge said.

  “Not a problem. I always assume Mister Smith is listening, no matter what phone I’m on.”

  This drew the attention of everyone in the room to the NSA man, who said nothing but rolled his eyes and scoffed.

  Marge spoke, “Ah, yes, that would be a good practice for those of us in our business. Anyway, I was thinking of what we discussed last week about the relative differential between our technologies and how or why the xenoi left the geocoding for our species.”

  “Xenoi?” Smith asked.

  “Plural of xenos, Greek for stranger, though the intent here is alien.” Marge explained.

  “I remember; go on.” Navari prompted.

  “Do you recall me saying that the xenoi wanted to enhance what was already here, the ancestors of homo sapiens?” Marge asked.

  “Yes, and I responded that Occam’s razor would support that thesis based on probability and evolutionary history.”

  “Then I said we could also theorize that there was a high likelihood that the desired result may very well have been altered significantly from what was designed or expected.”

  “Yes, Doctor Jones. I remember as well that this fit the premise based on cosmic radiation, epic timelines, and mutations.”

  “Right,” Marge said. “No matter how advanced, how intelligent, or how wise this sentient race could be, they could never adequately account for the variables involved by these dynamic forces on us and our planet.”

  “Where are you going with this?” Navari asked.

  Marge leaned closer to the speaker phone. “Forget modern culture and ideology that non-Terran sentient life would be wiser, smarter, stronger, and more capable in general than our species. Assume for a moment that they have their fallacies, weaknesses, and blind spots, the same as any other species. Just because they’re not from this planet doesn’t necessarily make them superior.”

  Smith spoke, interrupting the pair. “So now the aliens are stupider than us?”

  “No,” Marge answered, looking at the man. “I am saying that they have their weaknesses, unlike what many others would tell you. I can also say that they have already demonstrated a mastery of technology that is beyond our own knowledge and experience. I can readily assure you that they are neither stupid or weak; to the contrary, I am most fearful of a hostile response at this point.”

  “Well, you can’t have it both ways,” Smith said. “Either they’re dangerous or they’re not. You asked the president and most of her cabinet why those things can’t open a goddamn door, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Sit down, Mister Smith,” Admiral Nicholson ordered. Smith had stood in the process and also leaned over the opposite side of the table, bringing him closer to Marge.

  It took a moment to sink in, but Smith frowned, then resumed his seat and folded his arms.

  Marge took her time in responding. “Let me make myself clear, then. The sentient r
ace we’re dealing with could be extinct, or they could be controlling events as we know them. They could also have something else controlling events. This is not artificial intelligence, or at least it isn’t based on both Commander Monroe’s report and Officer Mayer’s.”

  “She sounds like she needs a shrink more than a doctor,” Smith countered. “She looked possessed, if you ask me.”

  “Well, no one is,” Marge shot back, resuming before he could respond. “There are many options to attempt to explain what was happening and what could happen. My point was that, so far, the actions, perceived or real, by the xenoi have been reactionary in nature, wouldn’t you agree, Doctor?”

  “Yes, very much so,” Navari said.

  “If followed to a logical conclusion, if there is no artificial intelligence in play and no sentient life form manipulating current events, the only remaining conclusion is that we are facing the equivalent of a programming script.”

  The room was silent for a few seconds until Navari spoke. “Most intriguing. Were you hypothesizing this earlier?”

  “No,” Marge said. “I had some passing thoughts, but it was what Maria said that convinced me. There is no devil or demon at play here, nothing possessing her or her mind. Instead, she’s manifesting in the only way she knows how to express the logic and vision that somehow transferred from the alien technology to her mind.”

  “Marge,” Rock said, wanting to get her attention and keep Mister Smith at bay for a moment, “do you realize what you’re saying?”

  “I do,” Marge said simply.

  Rock tried to paraphrase it for his benefit as well as the others. “These events are merely reactions to our actions.”

  “Yes.”

  “We have to do something, or what?” Rock asked.

  “The sentient life forms could do something on their own accord,” Marge said. “Theoretically, they could do nothing, but our assumption has been that our actions on the Moon have triggered a counterreaction from them.”

  “Their activities have shown a disposition for action,” Navari added over the speaker.