by C. J. Odle
Jake felt his consciousness being pulled in a hundred different directions, too many to hold together. It felt as though his brain was being pushed through a thin wire mesh. In that instant, he felt he might be pulled to shreds, left as wreckage by his attempts to control a force he had no training in dealing with.
“The guys say it’s working!” Marina sent.
Her voice was enough to stop him from passing out. Jake tore his hand from the alien machine and staggered backward. His eyelids felt stuck together, and when he did finally open them, the control room swirled around and around.
“Jake!” Sarah said. “Look at me.”
“I’m OK. I think.” He blinked a few times before managing to focus on the circular prints of Sarah’s green dress. He looked at her concerned face and smiled.
“Marina says it’s working.”
It was working. Now, they just had to hope it would be enough.
Vega summoned Paige to the witness stand next. She’d been thinking about what to say during the time the other witnesses were speaking. She’d listened to them as they’d given their evidence, and they all sounded far more expert than she could ever aspire to be. The presidents of China and the United States, the shaman and the pope… The kinds of people she’d only ever seen on TV! Even Amita had a life and a family and years of living behind her. Paige… who was she really?
Paige readjusted the hairband on her blonde ponytail before climbing out of her deckchair and walking forward to take the crystal necklet from the alien’s translucent hand. She put it on, and the blip of light circled lazily above the large exclamation mark on her graphic white T-shirt. She wondered how her freckles would look on the numerous screens of the world.
“Do you have anything you wish to say?” Vega asked her.
“I don’t… I don’t really know,” Paige said.
“Let’s start like this,” Vega sent. “What do you think about the world you have been born into it?”
“I think it’s getting pretty bad,” Paige said, and she knew it sounded too vague. Like she didn’t know what she was talking about. But she did. Hadn’t she spent plenty of time researching her causes to enable her to protest about them? Hadn’t she written letters and e-mails to everyone who mattered?
“I think a lot of other people know how bad things are getting,” Paige said. “We all hear about the damage we’re doing to the environment, about wars and the terrible ways we treat one another.” She looked over at the president. “I sent a letter to your office once about the dangers of fracking. I didn’t get a reply.”
She paused. “We protest because we feel like that’s the only thing we can do. We tell someone, and we hope they know what they’re doing. It’s like with your parents. You think, ‘they’re adults, they must know what they’re doing,’ and half the time they’re making it up as they go along. You do your best to make a difference, but really, most people are too busy living their lives.”
She looked down at her feet, then back up toward Vega. “People need to change.”
“Do you think they can change?” Vega asked.
Paige thought about it, and nodded. “I hope so. I mean, why have I spent my time protesting if I don’t think people can change? What good would it do? We protest about things because we figure that if enough people realize we want them to change, then they might.
“I mean, I know it’s asking a lot. I’m not a kid. I know we need to take some pretty drastic action to deal with climate change, and we need a better way for us all to get along. We probably also have to change society to make sure life isn’t so materialistic. So it’s not just about stuff.”
“And you think that’s possible?” Sirius interjected. The alien managed to convey plenty of doubt. Vega didn’t object to the unexpected question.
“When to comes to changing the world, the big problem for most people is that their reason to do something is never bigger than their reason not to,” Paige said, and threw her hands up in the air.
“They never feel like they’re going to achieve anything, or if they do, it’s going to cost them too much to do it. They might lose their job, or hurt their friends, or something.
“But now,” she went on, “we’ve had this wake-up call. We know the things we need to do, and we know the consequences of not doing so. It’s not a case of making changes because something could happen in a hundred years’ time. It’s a case of our life on this planet literally coming to an end.
“I think people want to be better,” Paige said. “I think if you give them a chance, most people are basically honest and good and helpful. We can be better than we are.”
With that, she realized, she’d run out of words.
“No further questions,” Vega sent, and stepped back.
Even Sirius looked content. Maybe because Paige had started off by highlighting the problems, and the alien believed its case was as good as proven. It waved her down from the witness stand, and she returned to sit with others.
Jake’s connection to the Pyramid persisted even after taking his hand off and staggering back. He could sense the alien computer begin to shift and search. It powered up, stretching outward with a crystalline awareness along dimensions Jake had only just learned existed. Its intangible circuits fired up through the world’s wider networks, rapidly flowing through satellites and cell towers, speeding through cables and nodes, splitting into millions of separate lines until it had permeated the whole internet and turned it into one facet of its immense power.
Perhaps the lingering connection to the alien machine would fade completely once he’d moved out of the control room.
“We should get back to the trial,” Jake said to Sarah.
She nodded. “Are you sure this is working?”
Jake stretched his mind into the Pyramid. Unimaginably fast torrents of information cascaded into the machine faster than the speed of light.
“It’s working,” he assured Sarah.
They walked out of the control room and along the tubed corridor, the tiny neurons beneath the crystalline surface of the walls fizzing softly as they passed. Sarah stopped Jake, her eyes flashing as she threw her hands around his neck and kissed him.
“What was that for?” Jake asked.
“Just because I want you to know that whatever happens, I’m here,” Sarah said.
Jake felt the connection to the Pyramid dissipate as he held her in his arms. He stepped back and could see the chunky stone of her turquoise pendant hanging just below the neckline of her dress and the ends of her wavy hair falling across bare shoulders.
“It will work,” Jake said. “It has to.”
Sarah kissed him again.
“And this one?” he asked.
“Does it have to be for anything?” Sarah replied.
“No,” Jake admitted. “I guess not.”
As they walked slowly back to the courtroom, Jake thought about the lack of interference from the aliens. It had almost been too easy, and the fresh download should finish soon. But if the aliens had been aware of any aspect of their plan, surely they could, and would, have stopped it?
They returned during a break, and Jake was grateful because it meant they weren’t interrupting the proceedings. Vega and Sirius were working quietly at the console and looked over as if to ask where they had been for the last few hours. Even the pulsing focus of the Supreme seemed to shift a little. The witnesses talked quietly among themselves, and only the American president glared at them.
Did it matter that he and Sarah looked guilty? No. It didn’t.
After ten minutes or so, the two aliens stepped away from the console. It appeared this trial would follow the traditional route of summing up. Jake hoped Vega was about to up its game, because from what he’d seen of the witnesses earlier, the case in favor of humanity lagged far behind. Even with doctoring the internet, they were going to need every available edge to turn this around.
Vega sat down on its seat, and Sirius walked to the front of the
courtroom to speak first. Its thin body suddenly seemed burdened with the weight of what it had to say. In a normal court case, this would have been a moment of triumph for the prosecution, perhaps even for gloating, but Sirius’s demeanor became even graver than normal.
Jake wondered why. A sudden thought flashed through his mind. Was this trial being broadcast beyond Earth? Did Sirius and Vega’s species need to demonstrate to others in the galaxy just how seriously they were taking this?
“We have heard only a small amount of evidence in this trial,” Sirius began. “But in addition, with everything we have learned about humanity from its own records, our conclusions must be clear. Humanity is a danger to both itself, and to the wider universe.”
Sirius pointed to the witnesses. “The president of their most powerful nation has admitted that, throughout history, all forms of government have failed. The president of their most populous nation has admitted that their addiction to fossil fuels is poisoning the planet. Earth’s leading particle physicist has even agreed that mankind’s defining trait could be its inclination to destroy.”
Jake could feel the alien building up momentum as it pulsed its words more forcefully.
“Their most prominent religious leader was not surprised that sixty-five million people have been killed in the name of religion. Their preeminent ethical philosopher admits a utilitarian argument can be made for removing humanity. And then we have the voice of one who has received visions from the universal consciousness. He feels mankind might be beyond saving.”
Jake could spot the parts Sirius had carefully left out. He wondered who else could. Hopefully, the Supreme. Jake looked at the brilliant sphere of light pulsing above the judge’s chair as Sirius continued.
“Despite our best intentions, humanity has proved both a mistake and a threat. If it is allowed to survive, many life-forms on this planet will die. If it is allowed to expand into the wider galaxy, it will bring with it the attitudes it has held for thousands of Earth years. It will continue to believe everything exists for its benefit. That its advantage and comfort are sufficient justifications for destruction elsewhere. That, ultimately, it can impose itself on everything around it through force.”
Sirius’s messages took on a somber note. “I do not seek the removal of a species from a world lightly. I know what it entails. But not to do it would be to commit a grave error. Vega and I are responsible for the creation of this menace. We must undo what we have done before the species develops the technology to prevent us.”
Sirius returned to its seat, and Vega stepped forward to take over.
“Sirius wishes to correct its mistakes. Perhaps it feels it is the only one capable of doing so, since it does not wish to offer humanity the opportunity.” Vega paused. “I will not pretend to be proud of our experiment. It has not achieved a tenth of what it could have. But if this is true, then as Sirius has stated, we must share at least some of the blame.”
It was a more downbeat start to its closing argument than Jake would have gone for, but perhaps it was the right approach.
“Sirius has summed up part of what we have heard,” Vega sent. “But not all of it. We also heard from witnesses who believe that mankind could learn from what is happening here. There are those who felt we should help humanity rather than remove it from this planet. Perhaps we should.”
Vega looked over to where the witnesses were sitting, intently watching.
“Our youngest witness spoke about the possibility of change. Nobody is pretending it would be easy. But it is possible. There is almost a 50 percent chance of success, and this could have increased during the trial. The Supreme will assess all the variables. Humanity is now aware of its origins and will have a much broader perspective.
“Taking this into account with the witness statements, I strongly believe humanity should be given the opportunity to change.”
The room fell into silence as Vega stepped back. In this deep silence, the Supreme pulsated, its energies growing and fading. Its consciousness became palpable, Jake felt it washing over him in waves and throughout the alien ship.
“Enough has happened. Enough has been said. Now, we will decide.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Around the world, people waited.
In a remote valley in Bali, a farmer turned off the radio, and walked with his wife and two young daughters out of their thatched house and along the jungle paths to their rice fields. The rain before lunch had soaked into the earth and freshened the plants, and now in the late-afternoon sun, the valley shone with lush greens and browns as the moisture evaporated into the air.
The two girls skipped ahead, while their parents followed behind. When the family reached their plot of land, the farmer took out a pouch of tobacco and a long thin pipe and packed its small bowl tightly. The girls laughed and jumped up and down by his side, while his wife hitched up her skirt and waded out into the middle of the ripening sheaths of rice. A thin curl of smoke rose from his pipe as the farmer rested on his heels, scanning the mountains in the horizon and the local villages dotted in the valleys below. His wife waded farther out into the field, and began to sing, her clear, mournful voice calling to the ancient gods. The farmer listened and thought about all the people in the world waiting right now to see what would happen next. Those old and alone, scared and with no one to comfort them. Families huddled around their televisions, larger groups gathered in village halls, meeting places, cinemas, and schools. And then the mass of people in the great cities, immense crowds he could barely imagine, waiting and watching their giant screens.
He dragged deeply on his pipe, and as he exhaled, his wife’s beautiful voice seemed to carry him up to the sky.
In Central Park in New York, people lit candles, passing the flame from one hand to the next until thousands lit up the night with an ancient kind of light, proclaiming nothing more than the holders’ existence, and their hope of it continuing. In Rome, the city reeled from the pope’s testimony, some seeking solace in churches, others contemplating the menu of a possible final meal.
In the desert night, Marina left the tent and walked over to the edge of the shields around the ship. Many others had the same idea and gazed silently at the majestic toroidal disk suspended in the air, the brilliant white column of light passing through its middle. She pressed her face into the shields, the static charge prickling her skin, and wondered about the world the ship was from. She could feel the consciousness of the Supreme, pulsing beyond the ship in waves, sweeping out across the empty spaces of the desert.
Had they done the right thing? Gemini certainly thought so, but she was worried now, anxious about what might happen. How could they even begin to guess the outcome when the being making the decision verged so completely on the impossible?
Jake studied the Supreme as it pulsed bright and then dark again, and around it, holographic images started to coalesce, shimmering into existence and then vanishing, too fast for the eye to pick out, except where the being of energy paused for no reason that Jake could understand.
“The Supreme is considering its judgment,” Vega sent over to him. “There will be a little time before it concludes.”
“So, what?” Jake sent back. “It’s only thinking?”
Vega shook its head just perceptibly as it worked the controls of the console. “The Supreme is running the analysis of the data gathered before the trial and will then scan the witnesses, learning what it can from their memories and collected consciousness.”
Jake thought about what the Supreme might find. It would hopefully find the fresh download, a hastily edited version of the internet designed to show mankind in a better light. When it scanned the witnesses, it would get confirmation of what they’d said in their testimonies. After all, they hadn’t been able to lie. And whatever the questioning didn’t reveal, the Supreme would uncover.
Surprisingly, Jake felt more confident by the moment. Only one doubt remained in his mind. Would the Supreme see through their manipulat
ion of the aliens’ computer? As it verified the available data, would it notice something odd in the pattern? If nothing could be found to compare it to, it shouldn’t be a problem.
The holographic images around the Supreme stabilized, slowing here and there with entirely random topics. There were visions of a minor war and then the humanitarian efforts to help those affected. A design for a water filtration system. A recipe for gluten-free cupcakes.
The Supreme’s consciousness swept across the room, and Jake could feel the wake of it as it shifted. Tendrils of consciousness reached out in wisps and probing fingers, touching the minds of the witnesses one by one. Somehow, Jake knew the hardest part for the Supreme was interfacing with the human mind without causing harm, toning down its immense power to the point where it could merely whisper through memories, examining without damage.
Jake felt one of the wisps reaching toward him, and he pushed out his own psychic energy in a shield. He did this as an instinctive reflex to protect himself but immediately realized his shield wouldn’t hold for a moment against the magnitude of the Supreme.
“You need not worry,” the Supreme sent. “You are not one of the witnesses here. Your role is… different.”
The wisps moved on, filtering through the witnesses’ minds. The holographic images around the Supreme continued to cycle and pause, cycle and pause. Was it working? Jake suspected that if the Supreme was going to spot their ploy, it would have done so by now. Jake would have expected it to denounce them as soon as it uncovered the doctored evidence, or as soon as the wisp had brushed past his mind.
Instead, it continued to work on the evidence, and now bright-white lines formed around it, intersecting and diverging, tangling with one another in ways Jake couldn’t begin to make sense of.