by Alex Gore
A: Level of communication – social and/or scientific.
B: Level of communication – emotional.
C: Level of communication – sexual contact.”
“Which means we have here rational contact with real aliens?” Alan was already writing in his head the script for the TV show.
“Come on, people, you are serious scientists, there’s no way you can believe in some little green men! Sir, this is some kind of joke, isn’t it?”, Michael addressed Norman, who ignored the interruption and went on with a calm voice. At the same time there was an image projected on the wall of empty sand dunes and the sun high in the sky.
“The picture you see was made ten days ago. While this one”, the same dunes appeared but this time with the half-buried corps of the boat, “dates from three days ago. Then the satellite data indicated the appearance of a large object in this region. We located it and made numerous pictures from the stratosphere. You will understand our surprise when we found out it was a submarine and a very real one at that, of which there was no trace only a week ago.
“After the necessary political and organizational actions by our governments we were granted full access to the object and complete cooperation by the Egyptian authorities”, the Major went on. “This is an international operation with the participation of the USA, the European Union with two scientists and Russia. I was appointed in charge of the mission and my boys will be responsible for the security of your team.
“Do you tell me Allen is a part of the team too? I thought you had called him for TV coverage”, Hans said.
Smith was not impressed by the Professor’s remark and went on:
“The science team comprises Dr. Rosenstein, PhD in Mathematics, Mr. Alan Parker, previously having served on a submarine, Miss Marcela Tarantino, a biologist, Mr. Michael Stevens, a history undergraduate, Dr. Sergey Radlichenko, a nuclear physicist. I and Colonel Ivanov from the Russian secret service are in charge of military matters. Please, welcome our partners.
Everybody instinctively glanced at the dark corner, from which both Russians nodded simultaneously. After that short introduction the Major went on:
“At the same time, with the appearance of this unidentified, if I may call it hat, floating object, strange meteorological data and high seismic activity were also detected. Predominantly in the region of the South Pacific.”
“But this is much too far away”, Michael said in surprise.
“He’s right, that is on the opposite end of the world”, Marcela said in support.
“We do not have any idea either, what the relation between those two phenomena is, but we believe there is one because of their simultaneous occurrence”, Norman said.
“You answered your own question”, Hans remarked laconically.
“How so?”, Michael asked uncomprehending.
“Well, the lady…”
“I prefer to be called by my name as a person rather than being considered a representative of the ‘fair sex’”, Marcela objected.
“Excuse me, but the answer is very obvious”, Hans went on unperturbed. “You said it yourself – ‘on the opposite end of the world’. That’s exactly on the geographic pole compared to the object of which we speak and which we must explore… There is a relation and it is very obvious, we just do not know its nature… All in all, something influences with great strength earth gravitation and the electromagnetic field of the planet in exact juxtaposition.”
“What do you think this might be?”, Michael asked.
“Could be, for instance, huge amounts of energy or huge mass… or both… It could be deformation of the time-space continuum due to the passage of a large number of protons through the earth sphere as if through a cylinder…”
“Could you explain that for the unsophisticated biologists?”, Marcela asked, staring at him without expression.
“Well, it is similar to laboratory experiments in which we bombard a given target with a flow of electrons or protons… It’s not hard to understand. It is as if in this case the whole Earth was the target for exploration.”
Norman interrupted them abruptly:
“As you know, now we are at the base camp, but tomorrow we are going to the facility at the object itself. We are leaving at 7:00. Any questions?”
“Whoa, whoa… wait a minute, do you mean that this submarine appeared here three days ago out of thin air?”, Alan exclaimed, who had come to himself after the initial amazement and was now looking forward to the sensation, which would get him back in the game.
“That’s right”, the Major replied.
“Well, whatever, what’s that got to do with me and why did you call us here out of everyone else? I am a biologist. By the way, have you any details at all about this ‘little boat’?” Marcela asked, believing she had at last found the man with the answers and trying to make up for the lack of information during the last couple of days.
“They summoned a biologist because there are little green men… True, isn’t t, Major?”, Alan asked.
“We needed a specialist like Miss Tarantino because of the data of the spectral analysis. The experts defined them as ‘more than strange’. I should tell you that she has also a PhD in Chemistry.”
“What data?”, Marcela jumped from her seat.
“The data from the interior of the submarine. The spectral analysis showed enormous amounts of carbon, more than 60% of all the atoms there.”
“But this is not possible!” she exclaimed. “In all living creatures on the Earth carbon does not exceed 25%!”
“I am afraid this is very real, we doublechecked the data many times and the results were identical.” Norman dropped his glance, held his breath for a moment and added: “There is one more thing… On the corps of the boat… just under the tower with the periscope we found an inscription…”
“What kind of an inscription, Norman?” Alan was looking at him in feverish anticipation.
“The one that wrote it was either in a hurry or his hand was shaking violently… Anyway, we saw on the metal corps the words Come, follow me, and I will send you out to fish for people. And they were written in…” - Norman held his breath gain and looked at the group.
“That’s from the Bible, the New Testament”, Alan offered. “Christ said it to His future apostles. It was described in the Book of Mathew, 4:19.”
“Alan, are you are priest? How do you know this Bible shit?”, Michael asked.
“Actually, after my military service I studied Theology for two terms in the University of Pennsylvania”, Alan replied, perfectly serious.
“May God help us with such priests”, Hans remarked and made a mocking cross.
“Come on, Major”, Marcela urged, burning with impatience.
“It was written in something which we initially thought was red paint…”
“Oh, my God!”, Marcela cried.
“… but the analysis proved it was human blood.”
“That’s terrible and yet what are we doing here?”, Michael asked, trying to calm the heaving of his stomach.
“As I told you, this is a joint operation with our Russian colleagues and you are selected and approved on the basis of a totally new program. I must inform you that Professor Rosenstein and Mr. Allen Parker are former members of the Control and Security Commission at the Committee for Research of Extraterrestrial Intelligence and Critical Situations. They were under the direct command of the President of the United States but that did not have any influence in their selection. Both of them were, like Michael and Marcela, filtered through the innovation program of our colleagues from Russia.
“No influence, my ass”, Michael whispered to Marcela.
“As far as I can remember, at our last meeting Hans was talking of the mathematical NON-probability of encountering aliens. You seem to have been proven wrong, Hans?”, Allen sneered again.
The scientist was wiping his fogged glasses in his shirt and didn’t award him with as much as a glance.
“These are not aliens.”
“But I’ve never even been to Russia…”, Michael mumbled.
“If the gentlemen could explain, please”, Norman gestured politely to the Russians at the back.
One of them rose from the dark corner. He was short and slender, with a boyish face and ‘John Lennon’ type of glasses below long black curls, falling on his high forehead. His clothes were civilian: blue jeans and a Chinese T-shirt. The typical distracted scientist, careless with hygiene and with neglected appearance, who was unpopular with girls in high school. Or at least up to his first million. Which did not happen so often in Russia to people, dealing in science. And Sergey regarded knowledge rather in its pure unadulterated form, than in terms of career or money.
He started talking, trying to subdue his thick Russian accent:
“My name is Sergey Radlichenko and I am one of the coauthors of the project for response to crisis situations like this one. The latest research we conducted showed that the general IQ is much more important than the expertise in a narrow field of science.”
“But I have not hit very high results in these tests”, Michael interfered again, as if trying to sneak out on the basis of worthlessness.
“So, we are here for the reason that we do not have very high IQ and are quite dumb in general, is that it?” Marcela asked with arms folded on her chest.
“Of course not. And I didn’t mean the standard IQ tests. Since 2016 a special branch has been functioning in our Institute, that collects data about all potential collaborators by means of a special computer program.
Alan leaned towards Marcela and whispered with a smile in her ear:
“Now we are collaborators.”
The scientist went on:
“Three basic features are taken into account. First, medical/ physiological indicators, that do not include, for example, how much weight you can lift from bench press or your speed in 100 yards sprint, but rather the potential of your constitution to survive in adverse surroundings and to adept to extreme life circumstances. These are natural factors you’ve been born with like the count of red blood cells per unit of blood plasma, number of muscle fibers per unit volume of muscle tissue, regenerative potential of the liver cells etc.”
“With all my respect, Sergey, but in what way exactly Hans, who does not possess a single muscle fiber, passed through the filter of that program of yours”, Alan interrupted.
“And you, Alan, do not possess a single gray matter cell”, Hans retorted to this attack, quick as a lightening.
“Gentlemen, please!”, Norman raised his voice.
“The second indicator is not how much you studied and what marks you got, but what efficiency your brain possesses.”
“I can guarantee for my liver”, Michael tried for a joke again, “but I am not very keen on studies…”
Sergey smiled at him, well used to ‘alcohol jokes’ as any Russian. “Fine. So, we’ve been right. The coefficient of your laziness is what matters. We don’t care about the common standards of efficiency but how much you can remember with minimum efforts. The program is not interested in your high marks and awards but in the potential, making you superior to other people.”
“This is a dumb system”, Hans murmured. “And why is Alan here then?”
“By all three criteria Allen is among the top places and his total score is quite impressive”, Sergey replied.
“Ha! Did you hear that, Hans?”, Allen said self-complacently. “We are not all of us geeks with a PhD. I like your system, congratulations. I promise to make a TV show about it.”
“I am sorry, but I have to warn you that the system and the entire mission are top secret”, Norman interfered.
“I, at least, have some objective recognition, unlike you”, Hans remarked.
“What is it that you want from us, actually?”, Marcela asked, trying to cut their stupid squabble. All men are like kids, whatever the system of evaluation.
“We need answers, it is as simple as that! The accident with the submarine is unique so far and the government demands an explanation”, Norman said and nodded to the Russian to go on.
“The third indicator is related to the subjective capacity of the individual for interpreting new/strange facts or, to say it in a simpler way, to the possibilities and strength of your imagination.”
“Look, Alan is the champion in this respect, especially when he needs not only to imagine but to lie”. Hans snarled at Allen, who did not retort this time but only shook his head ruefully.
“I find your attitude to the task quite irresponsible. Be warned that I will not tolerate this among my men!” Norman said in a grave tone. “We are entering the goddamn submarine, assessing the situation, removing potential dangers, and you, on your part, prepare your scientific report and after a couple of days we clear out of there. That’s all that is expected from you as a team.”
“I don’t want reports and childish fantasies. I just need to understand what, for Christ’s sake, our submarine is doing in the middle of the Sahara”, the voice of the second man in the dark corner thundered when Ivanov got up and stepped forward, at which point everybody was silent. He was a real giant – over six feet three inches tall, with massive limbs like of a heavy weight wrestler, you wouldn’t want to fuck with. His face was chiseled as if with an axe and his eyes seemed to be able to scan all the people in the room at the same time. His bald head only underlined the dimensions of the square skull. His fists resembled hammers, ready to squash any insurgencies, while his enormous body exuded Biblical power and destructive potential. He looked like a picture of a Russian gigant from a fairy tale about monsters and heroes.
“Oh, is it a Russian submarine then?” Alan raised his brow.
The giant cast him a look of dismissive annoyance and answered in a perfectly serious manner:
“It is Russian all right. And it is not in production yet. The first one of this model will be released from the production dock only after sixteen months.”
PART TWO: THE SHIP
“The fear of the unknown is a consequence of the infinite power of our brain for fantasizing.” Professor McDowell
“The true mark of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination.”
Albert Einstein
Temporary military base ‘Abu Minqar’, day 3, departure, 7 a.m. There’s nothing more beautiful than sunrise in the desert , Marcela thought. She was the first to go out and was now gazing at the infinity of the newborn day.
If one watches the horizon in the morning from the deck of a sailing ship, one sees the play of the ocean and the sun in the blue and white colors of the newborn morning. The performance of this duo is quite brief and then the sun starts on its way up the sky, while the sea remains down there, pensive and a little lonely. At least till they join again in the red sunset. The impartial observer next to you on the sailing ship is free to choose whether to admire the dark waters down or the golden rays up in the sky.
While here, among the sands, the sun and the desert walk together friendly, hand in hand, for the entire day, until the night separates them with its cold cleaver. Everything is in a golden fiery frame, reaching the point of melting, and all this lethal beauty squashes your mind like a cheap narcotic.
In the sea the wind carries pleasant coolness, while here in the infernal desert it burns and destroys like the touch of white-hot steel.
The sun had just brushed the sand horizon with reddishyellow gentle hand and was spreading its divine embrace on all nature. The billions of sand grains reflected the tufts of sunlight, refracting it into all the colors of the rainbow.
It was hot, even though it was only seven in the morning. They knew that just an hour standing unprotected under the beautiful rays equaled to being in a burning house.
The ocean was too far away, as was the luxury of philosophical contemplation of nature. Marcela turned back. Everybody else was here already.
It was time to go.
The engines of the Range Rovers
were running, awaiting their task. The major waved to the group and all together went to the black angular trucks which from here on were going to be their only refuge in the sand oven.
The luggage was loaded, now the passengers needed to take their seats.
And they did not seem in a hurry to go. Their movements were slow, as if subconsciously they felt the threat of the unknown reality lying ahead.
Still, because of the shadows, falling in one direction, or because of their gazes, focused on the same singular point on the horizon, they looked for the first time as a unit. As a group of friends who are starting into the unknown and are able to conquer it.
Alan was the last to come out of the bungalow, dressed in a thin white shirt and smart linen trousers, just right for the occasion, which could not be said about the posh dark glasses, perched on his nose. He held a cup of coffee in his left hand and with his right he was waving to Marcela. Alan approached her with a steady step as if the sand under his feet was no challenge for him.
“Hey, Miss, how are you this morning? Did you sleep well?” Marcela was like an image from an ancient myth about forest nymphs and sensual goddesses: a fine face with a classical Roman nose, imparting both gentleness and sternness to her beauty, white, almost chalky skin, immune to the sun rays. Her large and dominating eyes were radiating waves of greyish-green light that could easily enchant any man.
Alan stopped and looked her over – he could not help enjoying what he saw even with the objective stare of a man not yet in love. Even a woman would not be indifferent to Marcela’s beauty. Her figure was slender and elegant, her firm body emanated intelligent passion, without any trace of provocative perkiness.
The small and well-formed breasts added a charming childish nuance to her feminine sex-appeal, complemented with emancipated gait and a touch of introvert haughtiness.
Hans, who had just appeared from somewhere, could not take his gaze off her, while Alan was addressing the woman with the sleek phrases of a practiced womanizer. He was sipping his coffee, swaggering and dropping banal jokes.