The Zul Enigma

by J M Leitch

  Carlos opened it and an elderly face appeared on the screen. The long, shaggy hair was silver and thinning on top. Soft brown eyes stared out from underneath the unruly greying brows, which looked too young, too vibrant for the old face. The nose was strong and straight. The lips tipped up at the corners in a gentle smile. It was a kindly face. It reminded Carlos of his father. It radiated his integrity, his strength.

  ‘Hello Carlos.’

  The same sonorous voice Carlos had first heard just a few hours earlier wrapped around him like a warm cloak. It exuded confidence and compassion. Who was this man?

  ‘We know you are wondering what the Galactic Federation is and what it represents. This is understandable. We, on the other hand, have the advantage. We have studied you and feel that we know you. Absolutely.’

  That was a strange thing to say. Was it meant to be a threat?

  ‘The Galactic Federation is a body of higher consciousness that represents the universe in which we co-exist. The image you see on your computer screen will serve as our communication point with you. You may name it as you wish.

  ‘The Federation has information to share that we urge you to consider most carefully. The very future of your Earth depends upon it.

  ‘We are sure you are puzzling why the Federation has selected you, out of the billions of human beings on your planet, to contact. The reason is two-fold. Firstly, you have a background in cosmology that will enable us to communicate with you at a level of greater understanding. Secondly, you head a member organisation of the Earthly United Nations, a group that represents nearly every country on your planet. This unique combination of factors can serve as a platform from which you may evaluate the information we will pass on to you without prejudice and which, we trust, will inspire you to take action.’

  The shaggy brows rose making deep creases across the forehead that reminded Carlos of the furrows left on a sandy beach at low tide.

  ‘Carlos, we are about to challenge the system of belief that has hitherto underpinned modern mankind’s understanding of the cosmos. We ask you to clear your mind of doubt and judgement and allow our words to reach you without preconception or impediment.’

  Instinctively Carlos sat up straight as if he were back at school in a physics lesson.

  ‘Long ago in terms of earthly time we learned how to integrate gravity into what you humans name the Grand Unified Theories. We know you well understand the ramifications of such an accomplishment.’

  Carlos felt as if a charged cattle prod had jabbed his heart and the sudden shot of adrenaline made his pulse and brain race.

  Back in the 1970s, the Grand Unified Theories provided a breakthrough in the field of physics by incorporating electromagnetism into a single theory with the weak and the strong nuclear forces. It was this achievement that fuelled mankind’s obsessive desire to expand the theory to include the final force, gravity, as well. If realised, not only would it prove that contrary to being distinct, all four forces were actually different forms of the same phenomenon, but it would also satisfy mankind’s intrinsic love of symmetry. It would reveal the fundamental simplicity and elegance at the core of the entire physical universe and allow things hitherto deemed impossible to be achieved.

  The Galactic Federation was claiming to have found that elusive piece of the puzzle for which Earth’s scientists were still searching. It was claiming to have completed the Unified Field Theory and to possess the Holy Grail of theoretical physics for which Albert Einstein had spent the last thirty years of his life pursuing.

  But that would mean rethinking mankind’s current perception of space, time and matter, and with what repercussions? Carlos thought.

  ‘Yes, Carlos. You are correct,’ the voice continued, as if answering his very thoughts. ‘One of the outcomes of this discovery is the understanding of how to manipulate matter.’

  Then the face vanished.

  Carlos sat staring at the screen long after it had gone blank, his thoughts churning. The Galactic Federation? At first it had seemed ridiculous… but the voice and the face and the words themselves… the idea was strangely compelling.

  He shook his head to clear it. Of course it was a man. Just a man. Some crazy man.

  He forwarded the e-mail with a second Unusual Network Incident Report.

  ‘Hey, Drew,’ he shouted as he walked back into the living room. ‘you ready? A comer,’ and he raised his bunched fingers to his mouth, ‘let’s go eat.’

  CHAPTER 3

  They shuffled through a revolving door into the lobby of the restaurant, nearly bouncing off the heat that hung like a curtain inside. It was suffocating, like walking into a sauna. On his way there, Carlos had been racking his brains to remember the last time he’d met up with anyone outside of work. He couldn’t. Over recent years he’d pushed everyone away. But this was different. Drew was different. It was good to see his old friend again.

  After checking in their coats they ducked through a little archway. Although late, it was still busy. Conversation blended with laughter nearly drowned out the recording of Luciano Pavarotti playing in the background. A spectrum of criss-cross lights reflected off the large silver trays carried high over the heads of waiters who slalomed between tables. Drew followed Carlos towards the bar in the corner.

  ‘Drink?’ Carlos asked.

  ‘Sure. A Margarita,’ Drew replied, catching the barmaid’s eye. ‘You?’

  Carlos nodded.

  ‘Hello!’ Drew beamed as the girl walked over. ‘And what’s your name, darling?’

  She smiled. ‘Anaïs.’

  ‘Well, Anaïs, give us two Margarita’s on the rocks. And don’t be shy with the tequila,’ he said winking.

  ‘When will you grow up?’ Carlos muttered.

  ‘Never! Peter Pan, that’s me.’

  ‘Signore Maiz, forgive me.’ A short round man with a flushed chubby face rushed up to Carlos and made a formal bow. ‘We are so busy tonight, I didn’t see you come in.’

  ‘Luigi.’

  With a plump hand Luigi adjusted the stringy, black strands plastered unevenly across his scalp. Once reassured all was in order, he continued, ‘Let me show you to your table.’

  ‘I need a table for two. I called earlier but the line was busy.’

  Luigi’s little black eyes flashed as he looked from Carlos to Drew and back again. He clapped his hands and rocked onto his tiptoes, making his glossy patent leather shoes creak. ‘Oh Mio Dio! Signore. You have a company! Of course I can make you a bigger table,’ and Carlos tried to ignore Drew’s arched brow and sideways glance.

  Anaïs delivered their drinks. ‘Gentlemen, on the rocks.’

  Carlos took a sip. He shuddered. ‘Whoa, that’s strong!’

  ‘She’s got a good pouring arm,’ Drew said, grinning as Anaïs walked away to serve another customer at the other end of the bar, ‘and just look at that arse!’ he muttered as he licked the salt off his lips. ‘So… it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that you eat here often and on your tod. No wonder you’ve turned into such a fat bastard. What’s the story? Lost all your friends?’

  Carlos jutted out his chin. He didn’t want to admit how dull his life had become. ‘It’s no mystery. I don’t do cooking, the food here’s good and it’s near where I live.’

  Anaïs was mixing another cocktail when Luigi returned to take their order. He launched into a description of the evening’s specials, ‘and the lamb neck fillet? She is sooo delicious,’ he said kissing the fingertips of his pudgy hand. ‘Mmm,’ he exhaled in a husky voice, ‘orgasmic,’ and opened his fist, exploding the sentiment into the universe.

  ‘That should hit the spot,’ Drew said.

  ‘Sí,’ said Carlos closing his menu, ‘make it two.’

  As Anaïs delivered a fresh round, Carlos heard his name being called. He looked over his shoulder and behind him was a man in his early forties, a colleague from work.

  ‘Hey, Hans!’ Carlos slid off the bar stool and they shook hands. ‘Drew
, this is Hans Baade, our new Network Security Manager. Hans, this is an old friend, Drew Roberts. Join us for a drink?’

  ‘No thanks, Carlos. I’ve got a coffee over there.’ Hans nodded to the far side of the restaurant. He smiled at Drew and edged his spectacles up onto the bridge of his nose. ‘This is a popular place. Have you eaten here before?’

  ‘No. I’m not from around here. I live in the States.’

  ‘You don’t sound American.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m a Brit.’

  Carlos nodded in Drew’s direction. ‘We met at uni in California and went on to NASA together. Drew still works there.’

  ‘I’m with the Goddard Space Flight Centre. Radiation Belt Storm Probes mission. I’m responsible for the implementation and instrument management.’

  ‘Sounds interesting. What’s the mission about?’ Hans asked.

  ‘In layman’s terms? We want to discover more about how the sun is fucking with our space exploration missions, satellite operations and our power distribution and communications on Earth.’

  ‘Oh!’ Hans said, taken aback.

  ‘The launch date’s coming up soon, sí?’ Carlos asked.

  ‘May 14. Kennedy Space Centre. You wouldn’t believe the pressure. Two months to go and counting,’ but Drew didn’t look the least bit stressed.

  ‘How can they spare you? Are you here on business?’ Hans asked.

  ‘No. My aunt died. In England.’

  ‘Aunt Hetty?’ Carlos said looking up, ‘hey, I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Yeah. My last remaining relative. And guess what? I’m her only beneficiary. I had no idea how rich the old biddy was.’

  ‘You’re kidding. She never spent a peseta.’

  ‘That’s how she got so rich,’ Drew grinned. ‘Anyhow Hans, to answer your question, I’ve got a terrific team behind me,’ and he turned to Carlos. ‘Remember Helen? Helen Hunt?’

  ‘I think so…’

  ‘I left her in charge. She’s doing a great job.’

  Hans touched Carlos’s elbow, ‘Drew, excuse us? I need a quick word. Business,’ and he guided Carlos out of earshot.

  ‘The lads called me about the Incident Reports,’ he said bending his head down so he could speak directly into Carlos’s ear.

  ‘Any news?’

  ‘We’ve run a routine check on the e-mail address but haven’t been able to identify where the messages originated. I’ll get back to you first thing tomorrow.’

  ‘Will you have traced them by then?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks for the up-date.’

  Carlos sat back down at the bar.

  ‘He’s a bit of a nerd. What was all the whispering about?’ Drew asked.

  ‘It’s confidential… but it looks like our security’s been compromised.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound good.’

  ‘Tell me about it! Just after you called, I got this crazy e-mail…’

  ‘Prego, signore, your table is awaiting.’

  ‘Thanks Luigi.’ Carlos turned to Drew. ‘Vamos.’

  A waiter delivered another round of Margaritas and a split second later Luigi returned with two empty wine goblets and a bottle of Chianti in a wicker basket, as Carlos and Drew discussed the day’s main news: devastation caused by the latest volcanic eruption that had disrupted flights all over Asia and, once again, escalating conflict over the control of oil and gas reserves.

  ‘Too many people on the planet, that’s the real problem,’ Carlos said. ‘How can it keep supporting an exponentially growing population?’

  ‘Fertility rates are dropping and the West is doing its bit, but the rest are all breeding like rabbits.’

  ‘We’ll end up paying the price.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Right now we’re at the edge of another world war.’

  ‘Carlos, they won’t let it go that far…’

  ‘Who won’t? Russia? The US? Europe? The Middle East? The world’s still not recovered from the latest economic crisis. A war would be convenient. People make a lot of money out of war. But what if it goes nuclear? We could end up destroying ourselves and everything on the planet.’

  ‘Are you inferring some twisted version of natural selection’s going on?’

  ‘Hey, we humans haven’t done a good job looking after each other or our planet so far, have we?’

  ‘But to wipe ourselves out…’

  ‘Ninety-nine point nine per cent of all species that ever existed have gone extinct. That’s a fact. And for complex organisms, according to Ernst Mayr, the average life expectancy of a species is one hundred thousand years. That’s how long we so-called civilised humans have been on the planet. So tell me, why should we go on when ninety-nine point nine per cent of species die out? I don’t see it’s a question of “if” but “when”.’

  ‘And if we don’t? Kill ourselves in a nuclear war, I mean.’

  ‘A super volcanic eruption would work. You know as well as I do, seismic activity’s been escalating at a fantastic rate.’

  ‘What’s up with you mate?’

  Carlos leaned forward, ‘Don’t you feel it? Thing’s are unbalanced. I just know something big and bad is going to happen. Soon.’

  ‘Come on, you never used to be all gloom and doom. Here we are having dinner for the first time in bloody years and I feel like hacking at my wrists with the steak knife.’

  Carlos examined his glass. He wiped a little section of salt off the rim with his forefinger and licked it. It wasn’t just a case of what he believed was wrong with the world, although that was bad enough. It was the e-mails. They’d added to his unease and he couldn’t stop thinking about them. He’d have liked to talk to Drew – he could do with his friend’s cut the crap style feedback – but there was the confidentiality issue.

  Of course the first e-mail had alarmed Carlos, although it had been more of an irritation than a worry. Had someone else, Drew for instance, told him they’d received such a thing, he would have found it amusing. Then, after getting the second e-mail and watching the video, the significance was starting to register, and Carlos knew it wasn’t funny at all. UN security had been compromised and there was no clue who was responsible or what their motive was. But Carlos’s discomfort went way deeper than that. The message echoed his own fears for the future of the Earth. It resonated on way too personal a note.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said leaning back in his chair, ‘this isn’t the time.’

  ‘So, hallowed Director of OOSA, what’s this shit-hot job of yours really like?’

  ‘Hey,’ Carlos raised his brows, ‘it sounds good. But now I got the Office organised, I’m just an over-paid clerk. My admin assistant could do the job – at least that’s what she thinks – and she’s probably right. I love our mission to bring space within the grasp of every country on the planet, but I have to be so careful. It’s like treading on eggs. The members are clacking women. Give more to one than another and the complaints start flying around my head like bullets. Those guys are uncontrollable! Come on…’ Carlos looked up waving his arms in the air, ‘… does it sound like me?’ He nearly knocked his Margarita flying but managed to grasp the stem. Draining the glass he banged it back down on the table, hard.

  ‘Hold on a minute there Charlie boy, there was a time you’d have killed for that job.’

  ‘Sí, I know. And it was fantastic to start with. But now? I don’t enjoy it any more. I miss the old NASA days when we used to make things happen and had fun doing it. We were at the cutting edge. You still are. For me it’s the same thing every day. I’m surrounded by bureaucrats. I am a bureaucrat. I read report after report. I head endless meetings. The members are always bickering. And I’m sick of the travelling.’

  ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing.’

  ‘Amigo, since Elena died, my job’s all I have. All I do is work. But the more I work, the less I get out of it.’ He tapped his forehead. ‘I swear, it’s doing my head in.’
r />   ‘Bollocks! It can’t be that bad,’ Drew raised an eyebrow. ‘This admin assistant, what’s she like?’

  Carlos looked up horrified. ‘If you’d met her you wouldn’t ask. So,’ he said, changing the subject, ‘you’re here for how long?’

  ‘Aunt Hetty’s funeral’s Saturday. I have to be in England for that. Then I head back to Maryland.’

  ‘What brings you to Vienna?’

  ‘Erika… and…’

  ‘Who’s Erika?’

  ‘Erika! Erika Stone. I went out with her back in the old days at Goddard.’

  Carlos shook his head, ‘It’s too long ago,’ he sighed, ‘and there were so many…’

  ‘Come on, you know Erika. Short. White blonde hair. Blue eyes. Very pretty. After we broke up we still knocked about together. She got married, had two kids, got divorced. She moved to Vienna a couple of months ago.’

  ‘Okay, I remember.’

  ‘And Sophie.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, who’s Sophie?’

  ‘A young lady I met skiing,’ Drew said grinning. ‘Lives in Vienna. I’ve been here to visit her a few times, but you’re never around.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Carlos said rolling his eyes. ‘I’m always on the road.’

  Luigi reappeared, picked up the wine basket and poured a splash of Chianti into Carlos’s glass. He took a sip. The robust fruity flavour flooded his taste buds. ‘Excellent,’ he said.

  Luigi poured wine for Drew and topped up Carlos’s glass. ‘Signori, please enjoy,’ he said with a bow.

  ‘¡Salud!’ They both took a slug. For that one split second, Carlos thought, it seemed just like the old days.

  ‘Mmm, that’s good,’ said Drew, and he took another gulp.

  By the time they started their first course, Luigi had opened a second bottle.

  ‘Delicious,’ said Drew, resting his knife and fork on the empty plate.

  ‘How do you know? You ate it so quick!’

  ‘Boarding school’s got a lot to answer for. So, how are your mum and dad?’