The Gods We Make

by Eric Johannsen

  “Rebellious?” Dylan laughed. “No, I’m not a rebel. I’ve been around long enough to know where the line is, and just how far I can step over it, without anyone getting their panties in a bunch.” He paused, thoughtful. “We’re about to do something crazy. NASA hasn’t taken this much risk since the first days of manned space flight. Chances are pretty good we’re not coming back.” He put his hand on Chad’s shoulder. “I think it’s important to remind myself why I’m doing it.” He glanced at Jesse. She was jumping up and down as her very own launch shot skyward. “That’s a mighty fine reason, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, I would.” Chad stared up at a billowing white cumulus cloud.

  “You already up there?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You look like your mind is already up, well, you know where.” A secretive smile crossed Dylan’s lips.

  Chad studied the cloud another moment then sighed. “I had a dream last night. In it, I was… there.”

  “Ah. I see. Remember much of it?”

  “No. Not much. I remember feeling like I understood what it was all about, that it somehow made sense to me.”

  Dylan raised his cup. “Here’s hoping that’s a good sign.”

  “It’s just… I’m not sure it’s possible. To understand it all.” He smiled. “Not even for me.”

  “You figure it could be that hard?”

  “I don’t think it will be like an episode of Star Trek where you go make first contact with an alien race that’s remarkably like your own. Similar technology, recognizable customs, an ability to actually communicate. Anyone, or anything, that can cross the stars is going to be very far ahead of us, or at least very different. Whatever made that thing didn’t evolve on Earth, so there is no reason to think their culture resembles ours in any way. They might communicate more-or-less like we do, or they might use electromagnetic fields, scent and chemicals, or any number of other things. They might conceive of the universe far differently than we do.”

  “I reckon those are valid points. Then again, they may have solved all that before setting out to visit our solar system. The only way we’ll know is to get up there and look around.”

  “The sooner we do that, the sooner I’ll sleep well at night.”

  “Well, if anyone can figure it out, my money’s on you.”

  Chad studied Dylan then nodded curtly. He took the bottle and offered another pour.

  Dylan shook his head. “No thanks, I have to drive.”

  #

  As Dylan’s carbon-fiber beast wound its way through the suburbs, Jesse leaned forward from the back seat. “Mr. Chad, my daddy says you replaced a whole lot of human engineers at your company with AI. Is that so?”

  Chad twisted around to look at her. “Yes, that’s true.”

  “Why? I mean, don’t those fellas have trouble getting another job?”

  “I did my best to help them find other work.”

  “Did they all get a new job?” she asked.

  Chad shook his head. “AI’s getting really good at common engineering tasks. Better, really, than people. Times are tough for people who specialize in routine stuff.”

  Jesse looked at her feet.

  “It’s not just me,” Chad said. “NASA does it, some other big companies to it. You can’t stay competitive if you don’t.”

  She looked up. “Weren’t you the first to do it?”

  Chad nodded. “One of the first, yes. You said your dad’s working on a book?”

  Jesse nodded.

  “That’s smart of him. Creative jobs are the future.”

  They reached Jesse’s home where her mother waited on the porch sipping a tall glass of golden-brown iced tea. She urged them to stay for dinner, or at least for a sip of tea. The two thanked her kindly but declined. The sun was already low on the horizon. She hugged Dylan and said one more goodbye then the two astronauts hopped back on the highway toward the Johnson Space Flight Center.

  Dylan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Rush hour.”

  “Rush hour? That’s still a thing here?”

  “Yeah, we’re a stubborn lot. Not many Texans want their cars to drive them around let alone hire one on demand like y’all in the big city. We prefer cutting each other off to try and get home first. Plus, we don’t telecommute much. I suppose our bosses are fonder of keeping a watchful eye on things.”

  The phone rang. Although he had an ocular implant, Dylan preferred not to use it. “Answer,” he instructed his in-dash assistant. “This is Commander Lockwood.”

  The voice on the other end was all business, and it belonged to Mission Director Roy Evans. “Dylan, I have a Gulfstream waiting on the tarmac, engines running, and half my flight crew aboard. Where in the Sam Hill are you, and what have you done with our mission specialist?”

  “Sorry, Roy. Dr. Tanner is with me. We ran late saying our goodbyes. I have my stuff with me. I’ll take Chad by housing to pick up his things. We’ll be there in fifteen.”

  “Eighty-six that, Dylan. Musa grabbed Dr. Tanner’s bags. Head straight to the airport. Radio the tower when you’re close. They’ll take care of you.”

  “Lima Charlie.” Dylan hung up the phone.

  “Lima Charlie?” Chad asked.

  “Loud and clear.” Dylan thought for a moment. He scratched his chin and scowled. “Did it sound like his panties were in a bunch?”

  Chad didn’t answer.

  “It sounded to me like they were,” Dylan said.

  “That line you were talking about? Yeah, maybe you stepped a little far over that line,” Chad said.

  Dylan downshifted as he entered the Sonny Carter Training Facility. He weaved his way through the parking lot and to the access road that led to the airfield then raced along the road. He pressed a button on his center console and a gate in the airport fence opened just in time. With the hand-held radio he called, “Ellington Ground Control, Commander Lockwood. Approaching from Sonny Carter.”

  “Commander, Ellington Ground Control. Cleared for vehicular movement on Runway Four. Hold short of Runway Three Fife Left, landing traffic.”

  “Ellington Ground Control, copy hold short of Runway Three Fife Left.” Dylan power turned to the left onto Runway Four and accelerated to one two hundred twenty kilometers per hour, nearly as fast as a landing jet. He glanced at the approach end of Runway Three Fife Left. There he saw a 797 on final, ninety seconds out. On the opposite side of that runway, the NASA Gulfstream sat ready. There was time for him to cross before the 797 reached the threshold. No Dylan, you stepped far enough over the line for one day. He braked hard, bringing his vehicle to a stop well before the intersecting runway. “Damn shame, those new Boeings. No pilot. Only AI flying the thing. At least they still have a pilot on the ground who can control it in an emergency. I tell you, Chad. Machines are taking over.” A minute later, the 797 landed in front of him.

  “Commander Lockwood, Ground Control. You are cleared to cross the active runway, Three Fife Left.”

  “Roger, Ground Control. Cleared to cross Three Fife Left.” Dylan accelerated his car across the runway and brought it to a stop near the NASA jet. He and Chad stepped out. Dylan grabbed his bag from the trunk and hurried to the waiting plane. The rest of the crew must have been aboard. Roy stood, arms crossed, at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Sorry Roy, we ran into traffic-” Dylan said.

  Roy extended his right arm, palm up, and said, “Keys.”

  Dylan handed over his car keys and started up the aircraft stairs. Roy gripped his shoulder, restraining him.

  “We’ll have words later,” Roy said before releasing his grasp.

  Dylan scooted into the aircraft. Chad followed but stopped at Roy. “Sorry, Director Evans.”

  The Director managed a smile. “It’s not on you, son. Now get on board.”

  The Gulfstream was cleared for immediate departure. Soon, it climbed north over the dusty-brown outskirts of Houston then turned to the east over Trinity Bay toward Kenne
dy Space Center at Cape Canaveral, Florida where in a few days’ time, the four-man crew would embark on the most important spaceflight of all time.

  #

  What a rotten day. Dammit, I know better than to date a co-worker. My career comes first, it has to. If it doesn’t, who will I be? What will I accomplish? Romantic work relationships ruin careers, especially for Deputy Directors. It could wreck Jake’s career, too. He’s sharp as a tack and on a promising path. “Not good. What have I done?” she scolded herself aloud. Sara reclined and closed her eyes as the self-driving Audi deftly navigated the I-295 toward Fort Meade. Rain streaked off the windscreen, and a bleak sky further darkened her mood. Her eyelids twitched, and she broke into a cold sweat. Her mind, usually focused and active, felt as if wiped blank. She forced herself to breathe in slowly, deeply. After a time, her mind relaxed, and she reflected on her relationship with Jake. Why did he have to ask for more last night? I mean, he’s a great guy, and he would make a great partner if I had time for that sort of thing. He knows I don’t. I told him so. She wrapped her arms around her chest and watched the landmarks pass in a blur. It would be wonderful to be intimate with him. Right? But where would that lead? Where could it possibly lead, other than heartbreak? Better to stop it now, before he gets hurt worse. She stared at the charcoal-colored clouds. The rainstorm looked to be getting worse. Somewhere in the distance, lightning flashed. Can we still be friends? He said he wants to be. But his eyes, they looked defeated. Did he give up on me?

  The Audi pulled into her designated spot moments before the morning briefing, Sara still deep in thought. He should give up on me. I’ll only disappoint him. I just can’t be there for him, not now, not with all this going on. I’ll have to-

  Bang, bang, bang! A coworker peered into the window, smiling, checking on her.

  “Yes, yes. I’m OK.” She mustered a thin smile. A yellow light flashed in her field of vision, her aiDe warning that she risked being late. She pulled herself together, thanked the coworker again, and rushed in through the drizzle.

  The rest of the team was already assembled. Sara put on a smile. “One moment!” With a few gestures, she set the background of VIRCOM to a sun-soaked meadow complete with butterflies and larks. “Better,” she said. “It’s so dreary outside here in Maryland. I thought it would be a good idea to brighten up the place. Abel, what do you have for us?” Sara’s mind wandered as Dr. Abel Okoye provided an update on the latest readings from the alien structure orbiting Jupiter. Focus. This is important. Abel finished. There was nothing of note in his report. Other analysts presented their updates, most shorter than Abel’s.

  The last speaker finished. Sara said, “Thank you all for-” She was interrupted.

  Dr. Okoye’s virtual image leaned forward on his hand-carved walking stick. Deep lines formed in his forehead. “Ladies and gentlemen, there has been an unexpected development. The Chinese launched a rocket from their orbital platform. It seems to be headed for Jupiter.”

  Silence befell the room.

  We have failed. I. I have failed. A rotten day, indeed.

  #

  Dr. Okoye called Sara as she strode back to her office. “Abel, what can I do for you?”

  Abel’s voice was quiet, his words lacked their usual vigor. “Tough day. Are you on your way to brief the president?”

  “Yep, I’m on my way to my office to update him.” She could almost hear Abel frown.

  “There are times when a phone call won’t do. This is one of those times. You are excellent at your job and a huge asset to the NSA. Don’t let the president see you as a collection of pixels presenting him with bad news. Hop in your car and go see the man. Make a human connection.”

  “Go see him? Just drop in and ask for his time?” Sara laughed. “He’s the president.”

  “And you are the deputy director of the National Security Agency. This isn’t like you, Sara. Ever since you interned for me in college, you stood out for your energy and tenacity when pursuing your goals. A year ago, major challenges like this invigorated you. A year ago, you wouldn’t have thought twice about briefing the president in person. That’s how you earned your position. Now you’re just folding? Why is this problem different?”

  Abel’s voice was kind, but his words tore into her. “I… you’re right, I’m not me. I feel distracted and my passion for problem-solving feels smothered.”

  “Out with it. What’s eating at you?”

  “I don’t know.” Sara stopped and stared out a window at the blanket of drizzle covering the city. “I suppose, there’s Jake. I think about him, but other boyfriends never distracted me like this.”

  “How serious is he for you?”

  “I… I don’t know. He’s wonderful, but… I don’t know.” She drummed her fingers on the glass. “I’ve been thinking about my dad, too.”

  “Oh? What brought up those thoughts?”

  “Jake, I suppose. Some of his mannerisms, some of the things he says… they trigger memories.”

  A heartbeat passed, two, three. “I’m sorry, Sara, for pushing you forward in that relationship. I saw a gleam in your eye when we talked about him, and I thought he would do you good.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I appreciate your advice, but I make my own decisions.”

  “There we go. I haven’t heard that confidence in your voice since before the fusion thing started.”

  Sara walked back the direction she came, toward the exit. “You’re a wise man, my friend.”

  “One of the benefits of being old.”

  She laughed. “You’re not old. Wise, but not old.” She quickened her step. “Thank you for making me confront this… this malaise. We’ll have dinner soon and talk more. For now, I have a meeting with the president.”

  #

  Sara’s car activated and drove to the front of the building the instant she added her appointment with the president to her calendar. Forty-five minutes. Cutting it close.

  The drive should take thirty-six minutes, even during heavy traffic. Only self-driving vehicles were allowed on the I-295. They automatically coordinated to ensure a smooth flow of traffic.

  She hurried into her Audi then sat back, let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes as it sped away. Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A minor, one of her favorites for relaxing, played over the stereo. Is my car’s AI that good, or was it a lucky selection? Her lids closed over twitching eyes. Make a human connection. With the president. Sara was not dejected. She was in problem-solving mode. Eyes still closed, she practiced her opening. “Mr. President, my team and I comb through intel all day, every day. We take our work seriously. I’m sorry we didn’t see the Chinese launch coming.” No, no. “Mr. President, I take full responsibility.” Simple, sincere. She thought for a moment. Going to get me fired. “Mr. President, I screwed up. I let the Chinese get the jump on us. I single-handedly embarrassed your presidency and jeopardized the future of our great nation.” This isn’t going to be easy.

  Sara’s eyes opened with a start as her car braked to enter city traffic at Maine Avenue. OK, time to focus. Within minutes, her car navigated to the gates of the White House.

  A guard greeted her. “Head on in, ma’am. The president’s expecting you.”

  Her car dropped her off at the entrance then parked itself. She passed through security then strode to the president’s receptionist outside the Oval Office. Sara nodded toward an antique leather chair. “Can I wait here?”

  “No ma’am, the president is ready to see you now. He’s been waiting for you.” The secretary made fleeting eye contact and forced a caring smile.

  The door to the Oval Office was cracked open. Sara stepped through and saw the most powerful man in the free world jump up from his desk.

  “Why the hell didn’t you anticipate a Chinese launch?” the president said. He threw his arms open wide. “What the hell are you doing over there at the NSA if you can’t even keep track of a few Chinese rockets?”

  Good news travels fast. Sara breathed in
slowly, out slowly. Calm and strong, Sara. Calm and strong. When she spoke, her voice was steady. “Mr. President, it appears the Chinese redesigned one of their asteroid mining ships into something capable of reaching Jupiter. The thing was already under construction. We monitored it but didn’t have enough information to realize they repurposed the ship. They announced the construction of an additional asteroid miner last July. In retrospect, the announcement was probably a ruse to explain extra material being sent up. I’m sorry, sir, we didn’t see that coming. I accept full responsibility.” This is it. The moment my illustrious career crashes and burns. Life goes on, right?

  “Damn straight, Ms. Wells! A God damned alien spacecraft is up there orbiting Jupiter, and you let none less than the God damned Chinese get a jump on us. How could this happen? What are the American people paying you for?”

  Sara bit the inside of her lower lip. Funny that such a religious man takes the Lord’s name in vain twice in one sentence. She tried to suppress a chuckle at that thought.

  The president glared at her then thumped both hands on the Resolute desk, eyebrows raised. “What’s so God damned funny?”

  I just laughed at the president! Damn. Focus. Dead serious, Sara said, “Nothing, sir. Nothing is funny in the slightest.” She clenched her jaw. Make a connection with him. A human connection. “Mr. President, we messed up. I’m in charge. It’s my fault.” Her eyebrows raised, and a hint of moisture glistened in her eyes. “My work at the NSA is my life. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, I take more seriously. Every single member of my team is at the top of their field and completely dedicated to their work.”

  The president turned toward the three large, south-facing windows behind his desk. He paced for an uncomfortable, gut-wrenching minute then stood at the American flag posted behind his desk and ran his fingers along its fringe.

  Here it comes. The president of the United States is about to demand my resignation. Sara looked down and swiped a finger and thumb across her damp eyes.

  When the president spoke, he was calmer. “Sara, I’m sorry. I know you and your team do damned fine work. This is just so… important. No, more than that. Existential.” The president lowered his head, resting his chin in his right hand. He looked Sara straight in the eye. He was not angry. Almost pleading, he asked, “Am I to be the president who turned the United States of America into a second-rate power? Or worse?” Worry chiseled deep wrinkles in his forehead. He asked with a low, level voice, “How will we ever catch up?”