by Chad Josey
With the clear skies, this time of year brings cold weather in late February. Even in this part of southern California, the temperatures approach near freezing during the winter.
Jackson peered through the telescope’s eyepiece and wrote notes in his journal. Nothing new tonight. Hopefully, next week I can look at a more exciting area?
He focused on his last section of Columba, steadying the telescope. With a press of a button on the computer console labeled Picture, his telescope captured an image of the stars.
Astronomers compare multiple pictures taken at the same coordinates at different times. They attempt to identify any differences between the sets of pictures. In theory, the photos should look the same. The positions of stars should not move from picture-to-picture. Any variance shows something requiring attention.
Jackson pushed up the small, black lever labeled Computer. The humming sounds of the telescope’s motor stopped. He collected his paperwork, closed the dome’s shutter doors, and climbed down the platform.
He gathered the exposed photo tablets, which popped out of the camera affixed to the bottom of the telescope. Finished for the evening, Jackson entered a glass-windowed office across the room and poured a cup of hot cocoa. Jackson sat behind a desk to enjoy his drink, but the rising steam forced him to wait.
His hot cocoa rested on the corner of the desk. After years of study and realizing his dream to operate one of the world’s largest telescopes, he studied the pictures of his first week’s work.
The five-inch-by-five-inch pictures on thick, plastic paper popped like thunder as he shuffled through them. The smell of drying developer ink emanated from his hands.
After a few moments of rifling through the pictures, the folder fell onto the desk. He sipped on his warm cocoa, allowing him to make it through the next few hours until daylight.
Jackson glanced down through the steam above his drink to the photos on the desk. They had fallen out of the folder spread across the desktop. He pushed the pictures back into the folder.
His eyes grew wide. Something was different about the pictures.
Jackson sat his mug down on the desk with such force, causing cocoa to slosh over the rim. He held two pictures at arm’s length in front of him.
That’s interesting.
He stared at the pictures while moving them side-to-side. After moving the pictures closer to his eyes, he placed them both down on the desk beside each other. Jackson turned on the overhead light in the office creating an interrogation room. The pictures sat in the middle of the bright beam of light waiting to reveal its deadly secret.
“Jesus!”
Jackson’s voice echoed through the empty observatory from the office. He opened the desk drawer and pulled out a red marker.
“What is that?” He circled the same position on both pictures; a faint, fuzzy gray dot.
The pictures were on the opposite corner of the desk as he again flipped open the green folder. He searched in vain for other pictures taken in the same location. Those were the only two.
With his last sip of cocoa, he grabbed the black, rotary phone sitting on the desk. Protocol from his training referenced a new policy established since the new year. Any deviation in the pictures required an immediate call to Caltech, no matter the time of day or night. This would allow a record search to begin.
Jackson dialed the number taped beside the phone to the Caltech office. Even at this early hour, he could call though no one would be there. When Caltech made the policy change, they installed a new, state-of-the-art telephone-answering device.
After four rings, Jackson heard a long beep through the phone. He recalled his training instructing how to leave a message.
“Hello, this is Jackson Wheeler at the Palomar Observatory. Columba coordinates, right ascension 05 hours, 03 minutes, 53.8665 seconds. And, declination minus 27.0772038. Anomaly identified. Going back to take another picture. I will contact your office in the morning.”
Jackson hung up the phone after leaving his message. He stood taking both pictures and walked toward the office door.
I’ll start the telescope back up. Maybe I can see it and snap another picture.
As the office door closed behind him, the phone rang from inside the office. On the second ring, Jackson stopped.
“Dammit!”
He turned back toward the office. The ringing echoed with a violent sound in the early morning hours inside the lonely dome structure.
He picked up the phone. “Palomar, hello?”
“Jackson! Jackson…”
A woman’s voice shouted through the receiver. The phone cord knocked the pictures from his hand.
“Tina, everything, okay?”
“Jackson, it’s… it’s time, my water just broke.”
“Okay, we practiced this. Call your sister, and I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“How long will you…” Tina said pausing. Jackson heard two deep, quick breaths coming through his earpiece.
“The hospital is an hour away, I’m going now. I love you.”
“Love you t—” Tina said as Jackson hung up before she could finish.
“Great, where are my keys?”
Jackson grabbed his briefcase and threw the two pictures inside before taking his coat off the hanger. He rushed out of the observatory to his truck.
“Shit!”
His voice reverberated through the observatory as he ran back into the office. Jackson scribbled a note on a sheet of paper and left it on the desk:
Gone to hospital.
We’re having a baby!
I found something.
We need to talk!!
Jackson
8-J.F.K.
PRESENT – Colorado, 7:25 a.m.
1,834 Days Prior to Impact
THE DOOR OPENED to the brightness of a new morning. Gabriel escorted Joe from the main building of the Eden Foundation’s compound to a central courtyard. Joe desperately needed fresh air after a tireless night.
The information Gabriel had shared with Joe upon his arrival was too much to comprehend and believe. Joe moved like a zombie unsure whether to continue walking through the courtyard or sit on any of the open benches along the pathway.
From experience, Gabriel followed Joe giving him space to collect his thoughts. His erratic path led Gabriel through the courtyard.
“So… I cannot tell anyone… not even Mary?” Joe asked loud enough for Gabriel to hear him a few yards back.
“Unfortunately, no… again, like I said, Salvation is meant for the chosen few. Telling anyone about it or what’s coming will only cause mass panic. Surely, you can imagine the hell that everyone will go through on Earth until the end?”
“But, if people knew… people could prepare… do things they would never do.”
“Joe, I know that sounds like an ideal scenario, but let me tell you what will happen. News will spread about the end of the world coming… people will learn that there’s nothing no one can do to stop it.”
Gabriel continued following Joe, who had stopped in the middle of the courtyard looking toward the sky.
“But, shouldn’t people know, anyway?” Joe asked interrupting Gabriel.
“Human nature tells us there will be too much havoc if people knew the truth. Especially if people are aware there is only one safe haven built, even if that place is on Mars.”
Gabriel heard faint grunts as Joe attempted to comprehend the potential scenario. “Yeah, but the end is not until five years from now… that gives people a lot of time to—”
“Rape and kill each other… what, total anarchy?”
“Joe, we’ve known about the end for almost sixty years now. We’ve performed countless simulations to determine all the possible ways to extend human life. And, this is the plan developed and put into motion.”
A gentle breeze blew across the top of the building into the courtyard refreshing to them. A bench under the shade of an oak tree at the end of the courtyard welcomed them. Gabr
iel placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder, as they sat.
“This is so much to take in right now. But, over time you will realize this is the best decision. It’s a hard choice to leave those that you love behind, but your work is vital to the future of mankind.”
“I still feel like I’m dreaming. That I will wake up in my hotel room and start yesterday all over again.”
“Joe, many times I’ve told myself this was a dream.”
“How long have you known?”
“I normally don’t tell recruits this… but, the Foundation contacted me in the late ‘90s to do some HR work for them. I took the job. They gave me names of people to contact, setting up phone interviews with them for potential job openings my company had.”
“Did you know what was happening then?”
“At first, no. I did the standard interview-type questions over the phone. Questions like… tell me about your background, your strengths and weaknesses, where do you see yourself in five years? We recorded the conversations, and I never knew what the next steps were for the people I spoke to. I asked a lot of questions to my supervisors. Then one day, I got an invitation to visit our company’s headquarters overseas to interview for a different position—”
“So, you got a promotion?” Joe interrupted smiling.
“Yeah, that and I learned French along the way.” Gabriel paused and smiled; as it was obvious to Joe he must have enjoyed the experience. “That’s when someone, like me now, presented the same information to me… and well… I’ve been doing this ever since.”
Gabriel finished giving his history and stood from the bench looking across the courtyard. Shadows from the passing clouds swept across the ground pushed by the increasing wind.
“So, if Mary and I leave in a few months to go to Salvation, when do you leave?”
Gabriel lifted his head slowly toward the sky and placed his hands in his pockets. He stepped away from Joe still sitting on the bench.
“I’m not leaving.” Gabriel continued walking.
After a few seconds with Gabriel in the middle of the courtyard, Joe comprehended Gabriel’s comment. Joe stood.
“What? You’re not leaving?”
Gabriel stopped and turned back to Joe. “Like I said, you have a talent vital to the future of mankind. I do not.”
“So. What? You’re like some kind of freakin’ HR guy still doing interviews with people and telling them some pretty messed up shit?”
“Yes. To be blunt about it, basically, I’m your HR guy.”
For some strange reason, unbeknownst to Joe, after only less than twenty-four hours with Gabriel, Joe felt connected with this man. Usually, making friends was not Joe’s forte. Maybe it was the secret, which Gabriel was sharing with him about Salvation that drew Joe’s connection to Gabriel.
“What the hell?” Joe was in disbelief. “You’re kidding now, right? I mean, if this is real, and what you’re saying will happen… and, you don’t even get to go. Then, why are you doing this?”
“Trust me. I have those conversations with myself all the time. But, it’s my job. I was always a loner. No family to speak of. And, when the Eden Foundation approached me, I found my purpose… to help ensure human life continues by making sure I help those here, like yourself, prepare before leaving for Salvation.”
“Gabriel, you sound exactly like my preacher growing up.” Joe laughed as quick memories of Minister Greene flashed in his memory.
“I’m glad you are laughing because this is an initial sign of your acceptance.” Gabriel turned and led Joe back to the main building.
“So, what happens in the end for you?”
“Well, that’s it. I haven’t decided if… I end it myself, or just experience it… I… I try not to worry about that for now as I have too much to do to continue the Foundation’s work.”
For a moment, Joe refused to move from the middle of the courtyard. Joe imagined if it were him in Gabriel’s position.
Joe looked up into the sky. Clouds had floated by the surrounding mountaintops and eclipsed the sun. He slowly walked to Gabriel staring at the darkening sky.
“It just hit me. If I was told about the end of the world, and there was no hope for me. I don’t know what I would do. And, you’re right. Too many people would do terrible things to each other.”
Joe and Gabriel made it to the closed door of the main building, where they had exited fifteen minutes earlier. “Exactly, so, you see, the end has to remain a secret. No one can know about Project Salvation.”
“But… how had the Foundation kept this secret for so long?”
Joe's question went unanswered as they entered the building. The door closed behind them blocking the rolling thunder from following them as drops of rain fell.
Joe was not ready for the full truth of the Eden Foundation.
April 1, 1961
Washington, D.C.
MULTIPLE DISCUSSIONS filled the Oval Office. Three groups of two men, all wearing black suits, stood in front of the President’s Resolute Desk.
Everyone spoke on top of each other, while the President stood with his back to the men. His hands clenched together behind his waist as he gazed out the East Door into the Rose Garden.
Without turning around, in a raised voice to garner their attention, the President spoke. “Men, we cannot stand by and do nothing. If we have known about this since 1957, then we are already four years behind.”
“Mr. President, our group has been underway developing plans. But… uh, what we need now is serious financial backing. We need to get our program moved from theoretical planning to reality,” the elder man in the group said.
“Your group…” the President said as he turned toward the men all looking at him. “Who is in your group and how is this work coordinated?”
“We are officially not on the books, Sir,” the group’s leader said sliding a cigarette from his inside coat pocket. “Mr. President, mind if I smoke?”
The President nodded his affirmation. The elder man lit his cigarette and continued.
“President Eisenhower created the Advanced Research Projects Agency or ARPA in ’58 in response to the Soviet’s launch of Sputnik. I was assigned to research the Soviet’s observatory capabilities. That’s how I met Dr. Alexi Mikanrrovich. He’s the director of the Pulkovo Observatory in Leningrad.”
The President sat in the chair at the head of a small coffee table flanked on both sides by sofas. The six men followed and sat on the sofas.
“So, you met with a Soviet?” the President asked pushing himself back into his chair.
“Well, yeah. Being scientists, we try to break through political barriers. So, I reached out to him,” the oldest man said.
“You had to have known any contact would alarm the KGB?”
“To be honest, Mr. President as an astronomer, I admire the Soviet’s capabilities. I thought nothing of the KGB monitoring our correspondence.” The man paused and pressed his cigarette butt into a blue ashtray with its presidential seal on the table.
The man had the full attention of the President and his five colleagues as they looked on. “Shortly after joining ARPA, I get this package delivered to my office. It was from Dr. Mikanrrovich. He sent me the coordinates of something he wanted me to look for in the Columba Noachi Constellation.”
“Columba?” the President asked, his eyes pressed together creating several wrinkles on his forehead.
“Noachi means Noah’s Dove in Latin. It is a constellation visible in the southern skies,” one man said.
“And, this Doctor… he’s the one that identified this?”
“Yes. His letter said he had found something curious at these coordinates. And, he asked if I could also confirm what he saw.”
“So, the scientists at the Soviet observatory know?” the President asked as he leaned toward the oldest man, who lit up another cigarette.
“Well, any records kept at the observatory were destroyed in a suspicious fire last year. We’ve tried to conta
ct Alexi, but cannot locate him.” The oldest man puffed billowing smoke from his lips as he spoke.
“And, at no time then, no one thought to contact other officials in our government?”
“Mr. President, in ’58, it was just a couple of astronomers exchanging notes. The following months, I contacted these guys in the Agency,” the oldest man said pointing around to his colleagues. “I needed to confirm my findings.”
All the men sitting around the President looked to each other.
“Because we couldn’t get in touch with Alexi, we felt it better to keep this all to ourselves until we could completely confirm our results.”
“And, this has been validated, now?”
The oldest man paused. “Yes, Mr. President. We have validated the information. That’s when we arranged this meeting. We did it under the pretense of giving you an update on our space program.”
“And, 2020, that’s when this will happen?” the President asked.
“The date… yes. What can we do to prevent it or at least minimize the impact? We need to develop our plan of attack,” the oldest man said. He pressed his expired cigarette into the ashtray beside his last butt still smoldering.
“I’m afraid any plans developed will take a tremendous financial effort. Not to mention the technological support the likes of which this country, or this world has never seen,” the oldest man said.
“Who knows about this in ARPA?” the President asked.
“Mr. President, the six of us in the room, and now you, are the only Americans aware. From the Soviet side, Alexi knew but we’re not sure if he contacted others or not?”
The President paused pushing himself back into his chair. “Gentlemen, with your position in ARPA, you’ve got this meeting with me today. I want to get all our Joint Chiefs on board and plan our actions.”
“Sir, Mr. President, if I may,” one man said, who looked to be the youngest of any in the room. “In your Administration, we believe the fewer people that know about this for now the better.”
The pushback shocked the President. He looked at the baby-faced man, who had not spoken a word until now. “Go on. What are your reservations?”