Kara

First Contact — The Anabasis

“We know everything”

[This is a first draft of a chapter in a scifi book I am writing and occurs about two thirds the way through.
John Glenn and Rick Husband were real astronauts, with the latter dying as the space shuttle Columbia broke up on re-entry in 2003]

August 2000CE

For Colonel Matt Twyman the worst thing about the most important mission in Human history was being on his back in the Atlantis, in the bright orange pumpkin suit, going nowhere. The whole crew was on edge, far more so than any normal shuttle mission. The only exception was the octogenarian John Glenn sitting behind him, making this his second, and presumably last, shuttle flight. Glenn was their official ambassador and he was the ideal choice apart from his age, having retired from the senate a couple of years previously, but the mission commander could only guess as to the political machinations that had again put the old man in the back seat. Did he pull some very powerful strings or was there a dearth of ambassadorial quality volunteers? Maybe the open speculation about the degree to which this might be a suicide mission was relevant, or perhaps it was the fact that Glenn was the only one with both political and actual combat experience.

John Glenn, in turn, looked at Twyman and could almost read his thoughts — please don’t let the old man die on my watch.

They had kept the flight designation of STS-106 which was to have been a routine trip to the ISS, but the original crew had been bumped and were royally pissed off at missing out. This was also a very hurried response where corners had been cut because the Russians were also prepping a mission and they had to get to the aliens first, if only for the history books. The previous week had been spent in relative isolation to avoid catching any infections such as a cold, although their hastily recruited civilian mission specialist Dr Jane Peterson found it laughable and made no secret of it. She got the job because her specialty was biology and exobiology, the latter being the study of life beyond Earth and this was the first indication that her field actually existed. Yet here they were about to encounter an entirely different form of life and were worried about catching a cold. They would be lucky not to come back with the Black Death 2.0 if they met the occupants. Still, it was undoubtedly the high point of her career, assuming they didn’t do a Challenger and end up scattered across the Atlantic ocean.

The mission pilot was a career military man, Lt. Colonel Rick Husband, who was also somewhat outspoken about the hypocrisy of stripping every bit of leather from the mission and being put on a vegan diet in an attempt not to look like vicious meat eating predators. As if the aliens were likely to have missed that minor fact about Human life. Still, he supposed that it showed we cared about the possible sensibilities of our new guests. Glenn knew that Husband had mixed feelings, partly due to being a devout Christian and partly because both had been told in no uncertain terms to keep religion out of any discussions, along with politics if possible. He cynically wondered whether death and taxes were still on the menu but refrained from asking.

Their briefings were based almost entirely on speculations as to what the aliens might want and might do. The reality was that they didn’t have a clue, nor did they know why they were coming from the moon although there was a certain logic about them building a base there. Something we should have done came the chorus from NASA, aimed at the politicians, but all too late now. This was also clearly not a take us to your leader cliché playing out.

The gigantic tetrahedral pyramid in orbit had ignored every attempt at communications and they knew from various intelligence briefings that it was using some kind of exceptionally powerful neutrino beam to scan the Earth from sun synchronous polar orbit. That much was obvious in reports from the Super-Kamiokande observatory buried under a mountain in Japan and indicated a level of technology way beyond anything known. It also strongly suggested that the planet was being mapped in extreme detail, and not merely its surface features. Twyman also knew that some intel evaluations were being kept from the crew, presumably so that the aliens would not learn anything should their brains be sucked out by some tentacled horror. Nevertheless the data that had been gleaned was astounding. It had been observed by the Hubble class telescopes of the NRO when it crossed cis-Lunar space from the Clavius region, with estimated accelerations exceeding thirty-G before settling down for a few hours at a leisurely twenty kilometers per second. It decelerated just as hard into Earth orbit at a height of about one thousand kilometers, barely inside the first Van Allen Belt. They assumed the aliens did that so governments could get a good look at their capabilities, and also provide some warning as to what was coming our way. Opinion was split on whether this was done as a courtesy or whether it was hostile showboating, with lack of communication beginning to swing opinion towards the latter position. At that point it was lit up by every military radar available as well as its orbit being measured to within microns by laser. Comparing the results of those measurements with the minuscule drag at that height suggested a mass well in excess of a million tonnes. Neither did it appear to expend reaction mass — in other words, the propulsion system was unknown to Humanity. The numbers for the estimated minimum energy expenditures were stupendous, with a continuous power expenditure at least ten times total global electricity capacity. Had it not slowed down it would have hit with the force of a fifty megaton nuke and as such posed a potentially enormous security threat, and that was leaving aside the question as to whether it carried weapons.

They would need every drop of fuel to get to that orbit, which was right on the edge of the shuttle’s performance envelope, and so they flew with an empty bay. Again, the analysts wondered whether the aliens knew that, or whether they cared.

Liftoff, when it came, was uneventful and watched by hundreds of millions. There had been a fleeting suggestion that the mission be kept secret but a shuttle launch was not something that could be hidden and the alternative story, that it was a resupply for the ISS was one nobody would believe. Nor could such a fiction be maintained for long as it passed over various nations and its orbit plotted. Besides, it was assumed that the aliens were watching it all anyway, so best be open and overtly peaceful. As such the crew had a ten minute press conference via CCTV where they were introduced, smiled, mouthed the usual platitudes and toed the party line, answering only selected questions that were fairly innocuous. The closest it came to controversial was one asking whether any firearms or other weapons were aboard, to which the response was an emphatic No. However, that did not stop lurid media speculation ranging from whether the aliens might eat them to interviews with members of the public, aka idiots, saying the pyramid should be shot down. The crew hoped the visitors could recognize the distinction between the official position on the matter and the ravings of lunatics.

Twelve hours later as they were slowly closing with the gleaming white pyramid they could truly appreciate the size, it being more than ten times as big the one at Giza. Meantime, both they and every ground station available were broadcasting commentaries to the aliens assuring them of friendly intent, while the crew tried not to focus on the possibility of being blasted out of space without warning.

At a range of some four hundred meters it overshadowed them as they kept station and waited for any reaction. After an hour Glenn announced it was time, so he and the Commander informed Operation Control at Vandenberg as they made a move towards the EMU suits. The plan had been to spacewalk over to the object and try to touch it or find an entrance, hatch, window or airlock of some description. Maybe even knock on the door with a small sample hammer. The scientists wanted at least a tiny piece of it to analyze, even if scratching it was potentially risky.

“No need for all the fuss guys” came a female voice that froze them into silence.

“What? Who said that?” asked Husband, as they looked around. The voice sounded like someone speaking inside the cabin.

“Hello — aliens here. It’s First Contact time so buckle up, metaphorically speaking. We’re going to bring you into the Embassy if that’s OK with you, where we can do this with due ceremony recorded for posterity and all that. I expect you’ll want to break out your recording equipment, but you really don’t have to since we will be doing so in much higher resolution and will make it available to the news media of your world. Anyway, better get permission from your bosses before we go ahead.”

“You sound very Human” replied Glenn, not missing a beat.

“Obviously. Would you prefer slobbering monsters? We can do that as well. We have full morphological freedom, but right now Human seems appropriate. Anyway, get on with it. We are rather busy over here and want to get all the tedious stuff out of the way ASAP” came the dismissive reply.

Permission arrived almost immediately at which point they watched the pyramid, or Embassy, rotate so that one face was directly before them. A rectangular opening formed and doors appeared, flanked by two ornate pillars and a lintel above them. “That must be over fifty meters wide” exclaimed the pilot, as they watched them folding inwards to open.

“And at a guess eighty tall — Golden Ratio” added Peterson.

The alien spoke again. “Here we go, so keep your hands off the steering wheel and let us do everything. Just sit back and enjoy the view. When we tell you, lower the undercarriage and we will increase gravity to about twice Lunar normal so you can settle down gently. We will also clean off any toxic chemicals you might bring aboard before you exit as well as provide an atmosphere matching the interior of your ship.”

With that they started to move forward, or maybe the Embassy moved toward them, since they could feel no acceleration. “What about biological contamination?”

“There’s no danger of that. We’ve gone through this scenario millions of times over thousands of years. Trust us. Or keep your suits on and cut your visit short. Up to you.”

“You sound a bit annoyed. By the way, do you have a name?” commented Twyman, as he pondered the numbers.

“Yes. Call me Kara. Honestly, we don’t want to be here but we’re looking for somebody and may need your cooperation in finding them. Anyway, as compensation for the disruption we are causing by our arrival, when this meeting is over we will discuss some basic trades so you’ll not leave empty handed.”

“That seems very generous. Thank you” replied Glenn. “So, who are you looking for?”

“A couple of our people who disappeared around nineteen thousand years ago and might have washed up here, given the supernova. Please don’t ask all those obvious questions because we won’t answer them.”

“Well, can you tell us who you are and where you come from?”

“Save it for the formalities in a few minutes. We don’t want to spoil the surprises do we?”

With that they entered the glowing white and featureless expanse, put down the undercarriage and slowly felt gravity return. Looking out of the port they watched a section of floor rise up and form into stairs, followed by what looked like a black liquid flowing up and over the ship. When it got to the windows they saw it consisted of what appeared to be tiny insects before it receded.

“Decontamination over. There will be four of us to greet you one-to-one, and you can set up your camera before it starts. I suggest we line up facing each other at the bottom of the steps, with your ship as background and John Glenn on your extreme right. However, it’s your event so up to you.”

“You know our names?” asked the biologist.

“Of course we do — it’s all over your media. We monitor every aspect of your planetary comms. Apart from that, we know everything about everyone including what you had for breakfast the morning you left for NASA and this mission. Leftover ham and pineapple pizza in your case Jane. We are coming across now.”

The others looked at her expectantly. “True” was her surprised reaction.

“Perhaps we ought to take them at their word and factor in that rather remarkable piece of information. It looks like they have bugged or surveilled us at a level of detail previously undreamed of” noted Glenn.

“Of course” came the reply “We told you we are looking for someone. What did you expect us to do?”

With that they saw four figures approaching from the side, all remarkably Human looking who then stood at the foot of the stairs. Their contact party consisted of one man and three women. Ethnically they looked a mix with African, Indian, Chinese and European skin tones and features, but as Kara had said, that was for the sake of appearance and almost certainly not how they really looked. Each had long hair tied back and three were wearing dark blue uniforms with some sort of insignia on the left breast, but they could not get a clear view from the window. The exception was a woman similarly attired, but wearing black with no markings who stared up at them.

After a brief discussion about bio-safety the Commander told them to wear the ACE suits with helmet in place and sun visor up, which should give them ten minutes of life support. Plenty of time to go through the scripted welcome and then get back inside if necessary. As to whether the helmets would come off, a decision would be taken after the formal contact. When they got back to Earth they all knew it would be straight to quarantine anyway, but trying to update Operations resulted in silence, which was not unexpected. None of this was going according to any kind of planned scenario and they were all feeling slightly bemused, not to mention intensely curious. It appeared their visitors had gone out of their way to put them at ease, at least to the extent of being non-threatening and quite open concerning their snooping capabilities. They were undecided as to whether they were being viewed as a nuisance or whether it was some psychological ploy.

John Glenn stood at the top of the steps holding the handrail they had thoughtfully provided. He most certainly didn’t want posterity to record him tumbling down and landing in a slow moving heap at the feet of the aliens. The shock of what he saw when he looked past the tail of Atlantis didn’t help either. The gigantic doors were still open and he was looking into the black vacuum of space, with part of the Earth visible. Some kind of force-field he concluded, and pondered the irony of knowing the name of a technology they didn’t possess.

Behind him were Twyman and Peterson with Husband at the rear holding the video camera as they made their way carefully down to the deck. As requested, they lined up with John Glenn on the right and Husband far left who panned the camera across the scene before placing it on a tripod to cover the event. The question of why they actually had a tripod crossed Peterson’s mind, which was almost useless in a free-fall environment, but here it was. The three alien women faced the men and the man faced Peterson. The insignia they could now make out as silver pentacles with inscribed writing of some kind. The woman in plain black stood opposite Glenn and he noted there was another difference between her and the others — she wore a black jewel on or in her forehead. All of the aliens looked very young, and all were by any standard extremely physically attractive. The idealized Human form, taken from classical statuary maybe, or more likely from the cover of a glossy fashion magazine. Over his long life he had met numerous celebrities from the worlds of entertainment and fashion and none of them ever matched their airbrushed images. The perfection of these aliens did.

“My name is Kara” announced the woman opposite Glenn as he stared at her amazing eyes — the iris was totally black and rimmed in gold perfectly complementing her golden olive skin tone and hair so black and fine it created a rainbow effect. Then the other aliens spoke in turn.

“Aedida” said the woman who looked like an albino.

“Aadan” spoke the man with midnight black skin opposite Dr Peterson.

“Chaoxing” came the Chinese-looking girl.

The shuttle crew introduced themselves likewise and then simultaneously, with no apparent command, the aliens stepped forward and offered their hands. The handshakes became the most famous photo in Human history, and Glenn noted how they all held their hands absolutely still for a fraction of a second in order not to introduce motion blur. Now it was his turn. “On behalf of the United States of America and all of Humanity we welcome you to our world and hope this is the beginning of a long and fruitful friendship.”

“So do we” added Kara, then “We are of the trans-dimensional entity known as the Confluence, comprising more than a quadrillion star systems. This expedition represents the two most powerful factions within it — The Imperium of the Goddess Diana, and the Gaian Unity. My colleagues here…” gesturing to her right “…are of the Curia of Diana, I represent the Custodia of the Goddess Gaia. The Embassy in which you are standing contains fragments of the minds of both Gods and I will be acting as temporary Avatar for it on occasion. Unfortunately the Embassy has not chosen a Human name, but will answer to Embassy.”

“Thank you” concluded Glenn slightly uneasily, wondering whether he had heard that number correctly. “So, what happens now? You apparently have somewhat more experience of First Contacts than we do.” Both the aliens and his own crew smiled at that, and he was glad the hard part was over and nobody had made any mistakes. Still… gods and empires? So much for keeping religion and politics out of the talks.

“Now we get to know each other rather less formally in more congenial surroundings. Doctor Peterson, if I may set your mind at rest concerning biological contamination there are two reasons why you can remove your helmets. The first is our word that nothing bad will happen. The second is that we already have our people on the ground spread around the world, so anything that is going to happen already has. By the way, Operations at Vandenberg have been listening in to the whole ceremony and now we have opened a channel from them so they can offer you their opinion on the matter.”

“Colonel Twyman, can you hear us?” came a voice in the air, to which he replied in the affirmative. It continued… “We have had full audio from the moment you exited the Atlantis and are now receiving a video feed of the proceedings. Since you are actually on the spot, all decisions are delegated to you under the advisement of John Glenn.”

“Well, there you have it Matt” said Kara. “You can either pop your hats off and come with us or go back in the ship and we’ll kick you out the door. What’s it to be?”

He took off his helmet, as did the others. “You don’t seem very diplomatic.”

“Why should I be? This is all a petty sideshow for us and the power differential is so great that unlike you we don’t have to kiss ass, as you say. In the end, we need nothing other than you people staying out of our way.”

Glenn could see how she was annoying the mission commander, and wondered why. However it did bring home to him their situation — they were primitives in a dugout canoe paddling up to the aircraft carrier USS Nimitz and all it represented. They could crush us like a bug came the visceral realization as the illusion of even partial equals evaporated.

Rick Husband was in turn feeling somewhat disturbed by his opposite number Chaoxing and the others, wearing what was to him a symbol of the occult. That it was a symbol of the Curia of Diana didn’t dispel his foreboding, and even less so when she told him her name translated as Morning Star. “Also known as Lucifer” he pointedly commented.

“A bit more mundane” she explained “I was birthed in the cloud shield of a Venusian world undergoing terraforming. If it worries you consider Revelation 22:16 in your theology — I am the root and offspring of David and the bright and morning star.”

“You know scripture?”

“We know everything.”

Doctor Jane Peterson was also getting her own introduction to weird as the topic of names circulated and she discovered that Aadan was African meaning of the earth. “That seems a more down-to-earth name you have chosen. By the way, call me Jane.”

“Yes and no. It’s actually the name given by my biological parents because I was born into the Gaian Unity. A very rare privilege, but that was long ago before my allegiance shifted to Diana. I wanted to get out and about and meet new people and cultures.”

“Does that mean you’re actually Human? And who are those gods you talk about?”

“Well, I was sort of Human more than six hundred years ago but times change, as they say. The gods are the super-intelligences that effectively rule the Confluence. Another topic upon which we will not expand.”

“Why do you call them gods?”

He looked at her as if she was the village idiot “Because they are.”

“We have so many questions!” she stated in frustration.

“Yes, but we’re not here to answer them. We need to find our lost people, or make sure they’re not here, and then leave. Despite your egocentric science fiction suggesting otherwise, this planet is not a juicy target for alien invaders. We might be back in a century or two to see how you’re getting on, but that’s it. No significant interference.”

“What about science questions? How does your propulsion system work?”

“Sorry Jane — no. Although I can tell its translated name, which will give you a clue. It’s an ancient technology called an Horizon Drive. Anyway, come along and let’s go somewhere a bit more convivial than the impromptu hanger bay.”

On the way over Aedida tried to smooth things over with Matt “Sorry about Kara, she can be a bit abrasive at times but she means well.”

He rather doubted that. “By the way, what are those organizations you work for? And why the Latin names?”

“There are no Human equivalents. The closest would be a cross between your National Academy of Sciences and the CIA. Their real names would be unpronounceable to you and Latin lends them air of gravitas, don’t you think?” Which seemed a bit ominous thought Glenn, as he eavesdropped.

“And are you the crew of the Embassy ship?”

“No. Passengers and colleagues. The Embassy is running the search mission. If it needed crew it would create them. We just link minds with it as necessary.”

“So how many people aboard?”

“A few thousand, but most are downstairs right now.” It took him a couple of seconds to realize she meant on Earth.

At that Kara turned and simply said “Too much” which closed down that conversation. To keep it going the Commander changed the topic “So, what does your name mean?”

“Aedida means Fairy Counselor. I suppose you want the story?” He most certainly did, looking at her white hair, watery pale eyes, albino features and strange ears. “I was created in one of the realms of the Fae a few centuries back and have recently been incarnated in the Overworld. This is a training exercise for me, although I do represent some minor Powers.”

“Enough!” came the harsh word from Kara, and she ceased talking, obviously embarrassed at the rebuke.

With that they continued walking towards a blank wall about fifty meters ahead, which flowed like molten candy and became an ornate door complete with carvings of what they assumed were mythological creatures.

Glenn stopped at the threshold and touched the white door, which moved inwards. It felt cold and very slippery “What’s the material?”

Kara stared at him for a fraction of a second, apparently deciding whether, or what, to tell him. The answer when it came was succinct “It’s intelligent liquid diamond, shaped as we alter the strength of the electromagnetic force by locally changing the fine structure constant.” He understood enough to know that the aliens could bend the laws of physics, something utterly beyond contemporary science.

Entering, they saw a large white room modeled in a neoclassical style with various paintings and statues situated in alcoves. “I know this room!” Peterson exclaimed excitedly “It’s from the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey. I saw it when I was ten.”

“When the Embassy knew you were staying it created this along with some generic art from your history” explained Aadan. “It has a sense of humor.”

“But we didn’t know that was going to happen until a few minutes ago. Are you saying it did all this in that space of time?”

“Yes. No more questions for now please.” With that they were invited to sit at a table facing each other in the order of introduction.

“Time to talk turkey, as you say. Shall we trade?” asked Kara, talking to John Glenn “by the way Vandenberg is listening in but cannot speak. This is all on you — no pressure John.” The table fell silent.

“First, I can only really speak for the United States. Second, what do we have that you want?”

“Most important to us, and something you will find trivial is that we want you to stay out of our way when we are searching on the ground. Currently we have several hundred people in the USA alone and that might be expanded to thousands fairly soon. If you come across any of them treat them as if they have diplomatic immunity.”

“We can certainly do that. However, I cannot speak for other nations.”

“In that case you better pass along the message, because if anything bad happens to any of them things will be terminal for the perpetrators.”

He recognized the overt threat but didn’t want to dwell upon it nor make it central to the negotiations. Nor did he want to force them to spell it out in detail, just on the off-chance that they had not already planned their retribution. “How will they identify themselves?”

“Unambiguously” came the cryptic response.

“And in exchange?”

“Nothing. Consider it a gesture of goodwill on your part. However, the best is still to come from your point of view. We are prepared to offer a design for a working and cost effective fusion reactor using Deuterium as fuel, right down to the screw sizes.”

Glenn immediately recognized an offer that was worth trillions “So, what do you want?”

Kara’s voice changed subtly but noticeably “This is for me, the Embassy. I want your shuttle and everything in it including the space suits you are wearing and all personal effects.”

“Not possible” interjected Colonel Twyman, who had paranoid visions of them being kicked out the airlock, naked, on prime time TV as an example to Earthlings “Do you expect us to strip off to our underwear? How would we get back to base?”

“Those are very valid questions” Glenn quietly told Kara.

“Actually, I want your Maximum Absorbency Garments, urine containment trunks and thermal underwear as well, so naked it is. If you’ve pissed yourselves that’s a bonus” stated the Embassy.

“And something else” butted in Twyman, feeling as if he were being railroaded into something but not quite knowing what, “personal effects are personal. If you want those you deal with each of us as individuals. For example, I have a picture of my family that I carry with me” he said with a slight tone of indignation at how they were being treated.

Kara’s voice and manner morphed back “Well, aren’t you the bold space commander standing up to the arrogant aliens! I’ve met your type before — do you know what I do with them?” she exclaimed, glaring at him across the table. Everyone was silent, although Peterson noted that her own counterpart, Aadan, was trying to suppress a smile. She was starting to like him, partly because he was the most Human among them.

“No. What do you do with people like me?” trying to sound nonchalant and wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

“I go to bed with them for some interesting primate sex. Do you fancy some zero-G fun after all this is concluded? It’s not cheating on your wife if it’s for science and you’re offworld. Come on — your chance to learn about us inside and out and be a real Captain Kirk.” She enjoyed watching him squirm, and simultaneously covertly watching the faces of the people at Vandenberg as they listened in, not to mention their President. He was not going to be allowed to forget this.

It was Peterson who saved him “That is a definite No from the bio-safety point of view.”

For that, Glenn was grateful, although he was not too sure about Twyman. It was not like any kind of diplomacy he had ever encountered, or at least none so overtly sexual. It was more like being back in High School with over-sexed teenagers flirting or daring each other to do the things they bragged about but which never actually happened, and he wondered about the alien motivations. The alternative was that they were undergoing some sort of psych eval.

“Another time perhaps” she said abruptly, and everyone relaxed. “The Embassy is willing to offer you a one-off all-encompassing agreement covering your loss, but you must take it as a collective offer Matt. How does a day out on the moon grab you? No cameras or anything, just a personal visit where we show you what we are doing at Clavius?”

“So what are you doing?” he asked.

“You’ll just have to wait won’t you? Give you a clue though — there’s water ice at the South Pole and huge volcanic lava tubes. You’ll love what we’ve done to the place, and if you’re good boys and girls it’s all yours when we leave.”

Done. After all, it was why they wanted to be astronauts and for all his fame as a pioneer it was the one accomplishment that John Glenn had missed out on. He was delighted. “When will you arrange that?”

“When everything is delivered. Now, back to business — yes, you do strip off, but we will provide some new clothes for you, made from diamond fiber. You can change privately if you’re feeling prudish. Anyway, you’ve already been scanned down to the molecular level when coming into the Embassy so no surprises from our point of view. As for getting back, there are two options. The first is that we take you back in one of our flying machines. We’ll set down wherever you like and you can have all your analytical equipment prepared and in place to check us out in flight and on the ground. Or, we can copy your shuttle atom for atom and you can fly the duplicate. In which case you learn nothing. It would take us an hour or so extra to do that.”

It was Rick Husband who asked the obvious question following that claim, which he didn’t doubt. “I don’t understand. If you can do all of that why does the Embassy want our primitive technology?”

“Well, I forgot to mention that these deals are not between you and the Confluence but us personally. The Embassy is rather young and this is its first major mission. It wants to put all of that in its museum, since it doesn’t yet have any trophies, hence it wants the originals and not cheap knockoffs. That will also apply to the rest.”

“The rest of what?”

It was Aedida, the weird looking woman, who somewhat tentatively spoke up “Each of us wants something from this mission. Confluence business ended with that diplomatic immunity thing. What I want is a full set of Star Wars figurines along with an X-wing fighter from 1977 all in their original packaging, plus first editions of the following comic books…” and she reeled off a whole list of super-heroes starting with Superman and ending with Iron Man.

Next, Aadan. “For myself, a full and original set of Louis Armstrong vinyl records in their original sleeves. And don’t even think of trying to palm me off with non-originals. We can accurately date any material construct.”

Now that was a very interesting fact, thought Glenn, as the bizarre demands continued with Chaoxing. “I would like the Half-Figure Service Meissen porcelain tea set made in 1723 please. I know it’s rather expensive but not when compared to our bonus offer if you agree.”

“So, what would you like Kara?” asked Twyman, now feeling a lot more at ease. He had realized that although Earth had nothing in the way of technology or resources to offer their visitors, they did have what might be termed Native Art. The aliens wanted valuable collectibles. A truly win-win situation. He also suspected that the aliens on the ground were doing a lot of their alleged searching in antique and junk shops, maybe using counterfeit money. “By the way, what was that bonus Chaoxing just mentioned?”

“Ah…” she hesitated, and both he and Glenn knew that something big was coming up “Can you get hold of the Antikythera Mechanism? It’s in a Greek museum right now.”

“What’s that?”

“An Orrery used to predict the position of the planets — basically an analog computer from ancient Greece” supplied Peterson.

The Embassy once again spoke through Kara “I am prepared to offer the Greek government actual photos of the interior and exterior of the intact Parthenon and an atomically perfect copy of the statue of Athena Parthenos that resides within it. It does contain over a ton of gold, if that matters.”

The apparent switch from all-powerful arrogant aliens to eager children seemed strange and none of the crew understood it, but Glenn at least felt reassured they were negotiating and not simply taking. Clearly they had their own rules and ethics. “Is that the bonus?”

“No. The bonus is a room temperature superconductor to go with your fusion power plant if you can get all those items. Finally, this is a for all mankind deal, not just the USA. Now — yes or no?”

“I would really like to get approval from Operations, and ideally the President.”

Kara clarified the situation for him. “You’re not going to get that. You make the decisions, and we enforce them, and don’t take too long” came the blunt reply. The all-powerful aliens were back.

Glenn looked around and saw the others nodding. “Agreed.”

“So, do you want a lift down with us or shall we make you a new shuttle?”

“I’m the mission commander and it’s my decision.”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport Matt” said Aedida as she came up to where he was sitting and leaned against the table beside him, looking weirdly seductive and curvaceous in her form-fitting uniform. “This is a USA only deal. You know you want to fly in one of our craft, and Rick can bring the cameras for a full recording. Just think of what you can learn from a close inspection of a Vimana in flight.” The answer, as they all discovered later, was nothing of value. They were held in a force field that felt like jelly, all the controls were mind-linked and the walls were, allegedly, made of a spatial discontinuity and were perfectly transparent. No engines were visible. The tech was so far beyond Human that their instruments recorded very little out of the ordinary and what they did learn just emphasized that fact. Nevertheless, it sealed the deal. Sitting there looking at her he did wonder why he was being singled out for the sexual innuendo and considered the possibility that their surveillance had caught him cheating on his wife, and this was their way of pressuring him. Still, looking at both Aedida and Kara it was somewhat flattering…

“The deals are done — party time!” shouted Kara excitedly, clapping her hands, and more soberly “Now Vandenberg can talk to you. Go ahead.”

After re-establishing communications the word came from Vandenberg. “Well done John, and as for you Commander, the general feeling is that you made the right decisions. Landing coordinates are being sent, but we would like at least twelve hours before our new friends set down.” Kara nodded. “The video coming down to us is incredible, and is still streaming. We seem to be getting everything from multiple angles, both inside the pyramid and the exterior as well as full AV of the negotiations. This is majorly historic and the President sends her congratulations.”

I bet she does, thought John Glenn cynically. Probably also had her commiserations and surrender speech ready to go in case they executed us. “Relay our thanks” he replied tersely.

“So you will be staying the night I assume, since you’ve been awake for more than eighteen hours? We can provide bedrooms either individual or collective or you can retire to our new space shuttle,” which was another jibe from Kara aimed at Twyman. “Our facilities are better though. Alternatively we can supply stay-awake drugs and you can spend the time productively instead of unconscious.”

Thinking quickly before even more of his authority drained away: “Individual choice, but if you want to take drugs you use what we brought with us. I will be using dextroamphetamine.”

Which was all Kara needed to hear. “So, that’s the party drug of choice for our speeding Space Captain” she eagerly exclaimed “Sure you don’t want a snort of coke as well? We can do drugs beyond your comprehension — it seems such a pity for you to miss this research opportunity. We would even let you take some back with you. Care to think twice?”

What a bitch he thought, looking at Kara, but once again Jane Peterson saved him “I will volunteer to take the alien drug” she said, thinking that perhaps she could retrieve something of interest and hoping their hosts had a good grasp of Human physiology. From her point of view, as an exobiologist, this mission was a washout so far. To that he reluctantly agreed.

The next shock came from the seemingly innocent question posed by the mission commander “Kara, tell me one thing please. How can you know what was inside the Parthenon when it was destroyed centuries ago?” thinking she was going to say the name of some magical non-existent science such as quantum archaeology, or tell him to shut up. Instead the truth was more disturbing.

“I told you the Confluence is trans-dimensional. We have access to alternate versions of Earth with different histories. In some the Parthenon and the statue still exist. Anyway, to change the subject to a change of clothes, behind you on the table are sets of diamond coveralls complete with the Atlantis and mission logos as well as a logo of our own. The sandals are nothing special, just modified polyethylene.”

They turned and saw the clothing lying perfectly flat on what looked like a very large solid altar that had silently appeared behind them. Approaching, they noted that each had their name embroidered or embossed upon it. Peterson picked hers and looked closely, noting the mission patch, NASA logo and US flag along with one of those pentacle insignia, this time in dark blue with more of their writing in it. “What does it say?”

“It says Expedition Earth 2000” Chaoxing said, watching her. “See — those symbols are numbers in hexadecimal format.”

She could make out the three characters and assumed they corresponded to 7D0 in hex, but it was not obvious. The blue-white fabric itself had a lovely cool feel between her fingers and was incredibly soft. Looking closely she could not make out a weave. “Knitted” came the comment as if Chaoxing were reading her mind “Try it on — it should fit you perfectly.”

However, she didn’t want to strip naked in front of them and hesitated, so Chaoxing continued, this time raising her voice. “You all have rooms with ensuite facilities” pointing to doors that appeared with their names emblazoned on them. “Get changed and cleaned up then return for food and drink. Leave everything on the floor of your room when you come out.”

Her room looked like something from a contemporary luxury hotel, including a large bed beside which was a table with a glass of water and a container full of white tablets. A sign attached to the wall above it had an arrow pointing down and text which read: Alien Drugs — take one tablet every twelve hours. Hardly subtle, but she unscrewed the bottle top and dropped one into her hand, licking it and finding it bitter. On the label was a diagram of a complex organic molecular structure, some of whose parts seemed reminiscent of both serotonin and dopamine. Without hesitation she swallowed it. No going back now she thought as a pang of instant regret washed over her, reminiscent of the one time she had taken LSD as a student. Apart from that there was nothing after a minute or so, but the tiredness seemed to ebb away.

Stripping off she dropped everything onto the cold diamond floor, walking naked to the bathroom. First things first, as she sat down, wondering whether the toilet paper was actually more diamond fiber. That would be quite a story to tell, if so. Then came an androgynous voice… “I hope everything is to your liking.”

“Er… yes.” she replied, somewhat embarrassed “Who are you?”

“The Embassy.”

“I thought you talked through Kara.”

“I don’t have to. I just did that because I expected you people to be nasty and boring. In fact, you’re quite exciting with all your little foibles, ambitions and secrets.”

“Oh. Can you see me?”

“Yes. And hear you, smell you, feel you and taste you. I also have a gift from Gaia that is perfect given your expertise. It’s the most iconic plant created by the Goddess and to some extent it’s also a physical incarnation of her. Red leaves, rapid growth, incredibly hardy and capable of thriving from equatorial deserts to the polar regions. It can be used as both a food and medicine since it has remarkable healing properties.”

This was something beyond her wildest hopes, and up until now her expectations had maxed out at a flake of skin, strand of hair or some non-terrestrial bacteria since the place looked and felt sterile. Her mind raced with implications, not least safety related.

“That sounds like the definition of an invasive species.”

“It is, although it will not render any indigenous species extinct. It was designed to engineer worlds into an ecology of non-suffering. Whether you allow it to do its job is entirely up to you, but irrespective, you will learn a lot from it even though you haven’t yet got as far as sequencing your own genome. However, it will all come in time. By the way, you’re expected to share the plant with other nations.”

She had never felt so excited or happy, and had visions of not only a lifetime of research ahead of her but that pinnacle of achievement awarded by her peers, the Nobel prize. Now all she had to do was persuade the others to bring it home. “Let me finish up here and get changed, and we can discuss it outside.”

“As you wish Jane.”

Now dressed in her new uniform she stared at the deep red foliage on the table, serene in a sealed transparent cylinder with roots visible in what appeared to be soil. She desperately wanted it to be soil because that in itself would be an entire alien ecology, but Embassy dashed her hopes. It was earth from Earth. Then, making what she knew was a foolish decision, she opened the case and felt the lush deep red leaves, plump and slightly bulbous with no smell. “What would happen if I tasted one?” awaiting the Embassy’s answer.

“Nothing bad. It’s highly nutritious and it can optimize your biological functions with no possibility of overdose.”

Feeling nervous, she picked one of the smaller leaves and popped it into her mouth recognizing the taste instantly — blood. It was going to be a fascinating biology, she thought ecstatically, as she swallowed it. Replacing the cover she exited to join the party.

The scene that greeted her was reminiscent of a medieval banquet with large block tables overflowing with every imaginable food and drink. Interrupting her reverie… “They all just grew out of the tops of the tables” came the voice of Rick Husband, his face mirroring her amazement. “Food from multiple nations apparently,” he added “including beef-burgers and steak.”

“Real?”

It was Aadan who answered. “Yes, but not from real animals. We just synthesized it, right down to the denatured proteins and cellular debris.”

“But how?”

He smiled as he gave her a non-answer “The same way we could duplicate you, but more cooked. Anyway, you can eat it without fear of consuming anything unearthly.” And so the feast began.

“Chateau Lafite Rothschild eighty two” said Matt, holding up the bottle to the others “It costs a fortune.”

“So Captain, are you going to snap the neck off and gulp it down or would you prefer to use a corkscrew and one of our diamond glasses?” teased Kara, once more annoying him.

His reply was direct and to the point. “Why are you giving me a hard time Kara?”

“It’s because I like you. Never flirted with an alien woman before, not even in your youthful dreams?” she asked. The feeling he got was as if someone had walked over his grave — and dug up his teenage Star Trek fantasy. A vision of his old bedroom with a poster of a green skinned alien woman in a bikini popped into his head.

“How do you know?”

“Well, I could say that we know everything, which is true, but in your case I told you we scanned you down to the molecular level when you entered. That includes your brain, from which we sucked out your memories using our tentacles.” She laughed and handed him an ornate goblet.

His mind struggled with the implications, one of which being that he had no secrets at all. He could only hope she was not going to rat him out to his wife, but Kara probably knew that as well. “What else does that imply?”

“Lots, but here’s the biggie. We could reconstruct you from that data. How do you like the idea of waking up on an alien world in a thousand years with your last memory being of entering our Great Hall?”

He could see she was serious about this and it deserved a considered answer. How did he feel about effectively abandoning everyone and everything with a new start on a distant world in the far future? The considering lasted less than four seconds “You know the answer already. Yes — I do like it.”

“You don’t disappoint me Matt. Before you leave, ask the others because we need their permission if that is ever to happen, not that it’s guaranteed. In the meantime, try this” she said lifting a decanter full of an amber liquid. “It’s one of our drinks, and I think you’ll enjoy it.”

He turned to look at Jane, who just shrugged her shoulders. Although he didn’t know it, it was out of embarrassment and not indifference since she had just done something vastly more dangerous and foolish, not that she was going to admit it. With that he took a sip. “Tastes rather sweet but not too bad. What’s it called?”

“We call it Soma. It won’t get you drunk exactly, but it does have other interesting neurological effects” she said, as she slipped an arm around his waist. He did not object.

Glenn found the exchange fascinating and quietly asked Aadan whether Kara had been bluffing about the sex thing. “Probably not” the man replied “Kara’s a Gaian and they tend to be a bit exhibitionist and hedonistic — they’re natural-life oriented. She’s the second oldest on this mission, as well as personally being friends with our missing party. The rest of us are quite young, comparatively speaking, although nowhere near as young as you people.”

He realized there was a lot to unpack. Kara was nineteen thousand years old? “So who is the oldest then?”

“That would be Diana’s representative, but he isn’t interested in meeting you. He’s very senior in another organization directly serving Her. You probably wouldn’t like to meet him either, since his form is not Human, being more like a twenty foot high gargoyle complete with horns and wings. He’s a bit scary and has a reputation that stretches across the Confluence, but quite nice when you get to know him.”

Pushing his luck he asked a leading question. “What’s Diana like?”

Aadan shrugged his shoulders. “Diana is beyond our comprehension. Same with all the Gods. However, there are general characteristics that distinguish the two. Diana is quite formal, pro-active and rather ruthless whilst Gaia is a lot more approachable and friendly. Still, you don’t want to seriously anger either of them.”

“Why? What would they do to you?”

“In my case Diana might kick me out of the Curia and that for me would be several centuries of career building down the drain. No more fun expeditions and it would take decades of groveling before I would be back in her good books.”

“So no Hellfire and Damnation then?”

“No. We don’t do that sort of thing.”

“By the way, I too give permission” said Glenn as he looked toward Kara.

Jane Peterson was equivocal on the matter, but Rick Husband demurred. This was something that went right at the heart of identity and his religious beliefs. Would a copy of him actually be him? Would it possess his soul, or have any soul at all? The answers he got were not satisfying. Chaoxing told him that it would be a bifurcation of his soul and due to the differing experiences beyond that point the reconstruction might properly be called his twin. He was disturbed by their power over life and death and seeming omniscience, and he realized that he had to disobey orders and ask a leading question.

“Chaoxing, how do you see our Lord Jesus Christ?”

Without the slightest hesitation she replied. “Quite a fascinating character in this world. Of course, he crops up on others as well and in those his story differs somewhat. He usually, but not always, ends up executed. Whether he’s the founder of a religion depends heavily on his disciples, and especially Paul.”

“So you don’t view him as the Son of God?”

“Not personally. As you know, we have our own Gods who are totally real.”

“And nothing beyond them?”

“Well, interesting you should ask that. A few years ago I would have said No, but since then we’ve met something vastly more powerful than us and which has held Diana to account for some alleged excess of hers, to which I am not privy. I’m starting to think it may turtle all the way down to something like your God.”

Not knowing what to make of it he just followed up with the only other question that sprang to mind. “So are there Christians in the Confluence?”

“Not in the Confluence proper, as opposed to the peripheral worlds like this one.” She stopped and looked across the room. “Well, perhaps I’m wrong there. There is one rather notorious example of a Christian — Kara.”

He was dumbstruck as he watched Kara marching towards them, her face dark with anger, before harshly addressing Chaoxing. “Get out and don’t come back. The Marshal will deal with you later.”

“I am Curia — you don’t have authority over me” came the defiant yet nervous reply, but Chaoxing folded after a few seconds of silence and exited.

“As for you Rick Husband, my personal life is off limits. Your own people told you not to bring up the subject so obey them or I will file a formal complaint about your behavior.” Kara didn’t bother to await his reply as she strode away. The subject was clearly closed, and he realized that if she did that he would be out of NASA the next day. Nobody was going to be allowed to offend their guests.

Who in God’s name are these people? he thought, standing there with everyone looking at him in embarrassed silence while he wondered whether, or how, to apologize.

John Glenn was none too happy either, and that reference to a rank of Marshal coupled with the earlier demonic description had worrying implications. It had all been going so well up until that point, but at least now he had some idea of their no-go zones, as Aedida quietly spoke from behind him. “First Contact 101 — Meetings between us and primitive peoples. If we fully show you who we are it almost always destroys the lesser party. You come to understand that everything you cherish is trivial, childish and frankly pathetic. That your sciences and technologies are infantile and the basics of your fledgling economies, like intellectual property, are worthless. As someone once said, you’re just a piece of grit on one of our back-roads and we could buy this world a billion times over with the cost to us being no more than a rounding error in the petty cash. We comprise more worlds than there are grains of sand in every desert on Earth.”

Her brutal words disheartened him and much as he would like to imagine the spirit of Mankind overcoming all obstacles, it was also not difficult to imagine the demoralizing effect it would have on ordinary people. The aliens didn’t need to have weapons in order to pose an existential threat to him and everyone he cared about — just being here could do that. People needed illusion to survive and Rick was close to revealing a dangerous reality, because whether or not one was religious the fact was that it lay at the heart of almost all societies, with the more atheistic ones having a void named religion just waiting to be filled.

One word from the aliens and they would be back in the Middle Ages once again fighting over gods in a world polarized between fatalistic apathy and reactionary fanaticism. Best to leave it all vague. Later he told Rick and the others to forget this happened and to report none of it or tell anyone, ever. He was fairly sure the aliens would do the same. Much later he wondered why the exchange was in English and not in their native language.

During the little drama Kara felt strangely emotional as ancient memories surfaced, unbidden, and she wondered whether it was some plot within a plot by the Marshal. In the Confluence everything was an infinite fractal regress of plans spanning centuries, beyond the ken of even most Gods. That certainly seemed true of her delusion over almost a millennium — a delusion she volunteered for as a deep cover agent on behalf of Gaia. She remembered how grateful she had felt for being brought back from the dead and for all the love and attention Gaia had lavished upon her, not understanding what the price would be, but willingly paying it. Having Emily rip away the superficial layer of that cover really hurt as the realization of wasted centuries and a lost family washed over her like a tsunami, leaving her traumatized. It was only later when Gaia herself removed the final layer and restored her true memories that all was made right, finally to bask in the full glory of the achievement and the success of her mission. She was a shot held in reserve for a thousand years before being fired at the hour of Gaia’s greatest need. Never mind… spilled milk and all of that as she saw Glenn approach, almost reading his mind.

He needed to ask Kara the one question he dreaded and which she undoubtedly knew was coming. It was made worse by those black eyes silently staring into his soul as he faced her, looking truly alien and intimidating. “I’m sorry to ask this, but you probably know my orders. Do you have weapons here, or elsewhere in the solar system?”

Seconds passed with no answer as he stood in tense anticipation, not knowing whether the response would be a sarcastic put-down or something horrible. “The Confluence doesn’t have weapons,” and he relaxed, but it was premature as she continued “… we have tools. For example, we have lasers that could melt my name into the Martian deserts from right here if I wanted” and he detected a hint of amusement.

So, it was the horrible option, he thought. “Thank you for being honest.”

“We’re always honest — we have no reason to lie to you because there’s nothing you can do about it.”

As departure hour approached Kara let them know she would be coming down with them and staying in order to address the United Nations and meet various people.

“Do they know that?” asked Glenn.

“They do now. I shall be heading to New York once we hit the dirt, using local transport, so arrange it. You lot can stay locked in quarantine or whatever they have lined up for you. I doubt we will meet again. Anyway, I’m off to get changed.”

Entering the chamber she saw the black throne and the Marshal sitting upon it, looking down upon her with his wings folded, ears extended and his dog-like face expressionless. “Why don’t you get yourself an easy chair with some cushions and try to look less pompous” she told him.

“I could ask why you don’t relax and get yourself a less obnoxious personality, but we both know the answers. Anyway, it all went down extremely well I thought, and everyone played their roles to perfection. I have already congratulated Chaoxing.”

“Well, let’s hope they fixate on us as their soap opera rather than our missing duo. We have no idea what might be coming back, either in them, with them or behind them. Their reluctance to show themselves is worrying. It must appear to them that we will cause escalating trouble if they stay down their rabbit hole. It is of course a bluff,” she reiterated “which is why Gaia has vetoed your request for some serious resources. She doesn’t want you sterilizing this world, if only because it might be ineffective and possibly provoke a response against us as a whole. Something that can move the entire Confluence through time, or put us in stasis, for nineteen millennia is not something we wish to further annoy.”

“Very true, considering what Junior and his girlfriend did to Diana…”

“Wife. We were both at the wedding.”

“How can I forget? I expected to die there, and you were publicly humiliated. It was not a wedding but a coup, and I suspect Junior had no choice in the matter. As for your little floral gift that will trash their ecology, that gets a pass does it? You might as well give them a bucket of antimatter and tell them to be careful.” While his face might have been expressionless the voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Different scale, and it can only improve this place when it escapes from captivity” she replied. “If they fail to put Dr Peterson in quarantine then the first time she takes a dump the spores will hit the sewer and it’s game over for the ecology of this world. In which case she gets the blame and not us. Otherwise it just takes a bit longer. They won’t be able to resist using it.”

“If she’s smart she’ll blame it on you drugging her. If she’s honest she will tell them up front — an interesting test of personal morality.”

“So says Mister Morality-Without-Mercy. Meanwhile, any of the locals giving us trouble yet?”

“No, but I have my people in the territories of the usual suspects so probably just a matter of time with North Korea heading the list, since they’ve announced that alien spies will be shot. Nobody likes them so we’re free to set a horrible example.”

Reluctantly, “What’s the plan there?”

“I have a newly minted Marshal that needs to be blooded. He’s going to look almost Human and then take a stroll in downtown Pyongyang. When they try to apprehend him he will politely decline their invitation, and if they attempt to use lethal force it’s open season as he goes to meet Kim Jong Il. Of course, if they roll over and grovel we’ll just have to find someone else both stupid and vicious.”

“Try not to kill too many people please.”

“You Gaian do-gooders really annoy me. I preferred you as a mass murderer. Anyway it’s all for the greater good.”

“Says everyone who has ever committed an atrocity. There’s no such thing as the greater good, only good. Besides, it’s mutual, and let’s not forget who got us into this mess for just that reason.”

“Point taken” he conceded, hiding his annoyance at her endless sermonizing “but all that remains for us now is a choice between evils.”

In fact it was more than annoyance because he didn’t know how much of it was her and how much came from Gaia, although the fact that his offshoot had expended some effort plotting to kill Kara suggested the former. He could understand the temptation.

Conversely she found that the flippancy of Junior being replaced by the pomposity of Senior no improvement at all, especially as they both retained that air of snobbish superiority that she so hated, as if her centuries of suffering meant nothing.

Finally, the Marshal changed the subject and became more conciliatory. “Thanks for getting me the Orrery, by the way. I’ve always wanted it.”

“No problem. Anyway, I’m on my way down to become the star of the show and stir up trouble among the baboons in my own fashion.”

“I’m sure you’ll do an excellent job” came the reply and this time she could detect no sarcasm at all.

She returned to the contact party wearing a neat blue suit just in time to pass on the good news, that the Russians were about to launch their mission of greeting.
“So what are you going to do about them?” Glenn asked.

She sighed. “Well, the Embassy would also like a Soyuz to add to its collection but this is getting a bit tiresome. We’re not a hotel. We can get the Russians to leave one out for us and send a Vimana to pick it up in exchange for some trinkets. In case you missed it, we don’t want any more visitors. If you come here again it will be by invitation only.”

Trinkets thought Glenn standing there in his new clothes which were probably worth hundreds of millions back on Earth. That’s all these trades are to them, as he wondered whether he would go down in history as the man who sold Manhattan for a handful of glass beads. He was somewhat reassured by Kara’s next words.

“The Embassy also wanted the Apollo 11 lander on the moon and the return capsule, but I vetoed that. It’s an important part of your history and should not be sold.” Hearing that he was grateful she had made the decision and it was not going to be left up to some politician. It was also the moment he understood that his major action upon return would be to alert the world to the true value of their art treasures. As he did so he saw her smile, finally understanding some of the aliens behavior — they were adults playing with children.

West Virginia — One Week Later

The first thing she noticed as she pulled off the dirt track into her driveway was a shiny red Corvette parked up next to the front door and a man in a white button-up shirt, new jeans and polished cowboys boots standing next to it. In other words, she thought, a real dumb dick. “Fuck. Another debt collector” muttering under her breath. Handbrake on, she squeezed painfully out of the old Toyota.

“Having problems?” he inquired, watching her apparently strenuous efforts.

“Knees and back. In case you hadn’t noticed I’m fat. Who are you and what do you want? If it’s money you can fuck off my property right now. I’m out of it.”

“If I may introduce myself, the name is Ramiro Jose Zugasti.

“No shit Sherlock — let me guess — you’re a Mexican judging by the name, that greasy black hair and those eyes.” Although he didn’t sound like one, having more of a Northern accent and certainly not local to West Virginia.

“I’m not from Mexico. Anyway, I’ve come here to buy two items from you and will pay a good price” he stated, leaning on the Vette.

“Well, there’s nothin’ here of any value. Even the house is mortgaged and the bank is about to kick me out for non-payment. By the way — nice car” she said, trying to soften her words now she knew he was not after money.

His face lit up at her words. “My pride and joy. I got a deal on it a few months back. Less than a year old and under five thousand miles. Been driving it for business. May we talk inside?”

Picking up his holdall he followed her, to be greeted by a vision of genteel poverty. Threadbare curtains, an old sofa, an ancient TV and four wooden chairs around the bare table at which they now sat, but overall clean and tidy.

“Look at it, ain’t nuthin’ here. So what do you want?”

He pulled out a fat roll of bills wrapped in a rubber band, and it made a gentle thud as he dropped it on the table. “Here’s just over three thousand. I want you father’s old forty-five.”

She stared at it, almost in a trance. “How the heck did you know about Daddy’s gun? He’s been gone more’n twenty years and I’ve never taken it out or told anyone about it. I’ll get it.” With that she pushed herself up painfully and walked slowly to another room, returning a few seconds later with the Colt automatic in her hand before handing it to him, muzzle first. “You could buy a better one at any pawn shop for fifty bucks. Why the hell do you want that old junk?”

Slipping the magazine out he instantly knew it was loaded and when he racked the slide a cartridge ejected and rattled on the table. Pushing it into the magazine he slipped both the pieces into his bag on the floor. “I have my reasons. By the way, that’s rather trusting of you handing me a loaded weapon like that.” Not to mention dangerous, thinking that she ought to know something about firearm safety.

“Why? What could you have done? Robbed me? Shot me? There’s nothin’ to steal and killin’ me would be a mercy.

“Take the money — it’s yours, and the first deal is done.”

“So what’s the other thing?” she said picking up cash and putting in her pocket, wondering what the catch was while being too polite to count it.

“I want your time. Talk to me. In exchange you can have the car.” With that he reached into the holdall again and pulled out a sheaf of documents. “Pink slip and all the documentation, made out to Ms. Tiffany Atkins” before pushing them towards her and dropping the keys on top.

“Always hated that name. Call me Tiff. Anyway, that car’s worth more’n this house. You know what they say about things that appear too good to be true. What’s it all about? What do you get out of it?”

“That will become apparent as we talk, and to you it will be a lot more valuable than the price of the car. As for your name, I quite like it. It’s strangely appropriate and in the original ancient Greek, Theophania, it means manifestation or revelation of God.”

“Well, God never did no manifestin’ for me or Mama when cancer killed her ten years ago and the medical bills wiped us out.”

“Better late than never eh? So, what do I get out of this? The answer is many things, but right now you’re the only person I’ve spoken to for months outside of buying food and drink. You can’t imagine how hard it is for me, and not just because this is almost like being in solitary confinement. I’m used to being part of a very large… family” he stated, hesitating over the last word. “Do you have family?”

“This is it” she said, gesturing at the emptiness. “Not even a cat. You Mexicans tend to have big families. Want a drink?”

“A glass of water would be nice.”

“Don’t be a pussy. It’s not like you’re drivin’ home is it, unless you’re an injun giver.”

He laughed “No. It’s all yours. Pour me what you’re having, and like I said, I’m not Mexican.”

She got a half bottle of Jack Daniel’s and two clean glasses. “So you’re not needin’ a car for your business, whatever that is. How’re you gettin’ home?”

“Some friends will pick me up. My work’s done and right now I’m unemployed.”

“You and me both. I worked at the diner on the main road for almost twenty years, but it closed today. Coalmine layoffs, people with no money and passin’ traffic way down. What else do you have in that bag?”

“Little that would interest you. Some antique watches and a cuckoo clock from around 1880. A little wooden bird pops out and makes noises. I quite like that kind of mechanism — find it fascinating.” She watched how he became animated again like when he talked about his pride and joy, the car. Weird. He continued “Anyway, just a few mementos of my fruitless trip.” After a few moments of silence he added “Now it’s time to pay for the car. Tell me about your childhood.”

“Not much to tell. Born in this house, lived here all my life. No brothers or sisters and not much in the way of relatives.” Silence.

He felt slightly frustrated — getting conversation from her was like pulling teeth “So what of school?”

“Nothin’ much there either. Never took to book learnin’ but I had friends. I was just the average fat kid.”

“No boyfriends?” he prompted.

“Only one that might have been serious. His name was Jack and we dated for a spell but then he got drafted and ended up in Nam.” Anticipating his next question, “And no, he didn’t get killed or nothin’. It was his ticket out into the world and he never came back to this dump. Left me behind and probably found someone. Story of my life.”

“So why didn’t you get out of here? Most kids leave home.”

“Don’t know. Never seemed to be a right time or right opportunity and I never really worked up the ambition or energy for it. Always figured somethin’ would come along sometime, but it never did.”

“We’re all trapped by our decisions.” He said somberly, and noted the JD was starting to loosen her tongue, as well as make her maudlin. Alcohol had that effect on some people, and he never understood why they sought it out if that was the result. Her mood was also beginning to infect him as well, and he regretted being here and hearing this, but it was necessary.

“I was trapped because I never made any decisions. Just followed the easiest path. It was easy with parents who loved me, and we were happy at home. Then Daddy got sick with Black Lung from the mine and I had to keep workin’ to make ends meet for all of us. The rest you know.”

They sat in silence for a while until she spoke again.

“One day you wake up and realize there’s nothin’ left. All the opportunities in life, everything is behind you and all that lies ahead is just more of the same nothin’ and then death. I took the easy path every time for whatever reason and now that’s all there is. All downhill. A life that’s one big zero.” Why was she telling him all this, she wondered, but knew the answer. None of it mattered anymore, so why not? There was, literally, nothing to hide from this rich kid with a fancy car, and she was jealous. Maybe this was her way of punishing herself, she thought. “So what was your childhood like? I bet you were rich.”

“Ah… but which childhood?” came the puzzling question, and she wondered what game he was playing as he composed himself. “Let me tell you about my second…

I don’t have any memories before the age of four, but I was born into an immigrant family in Scranton. My father worked in garbage collection and my mother worked part time at a local shop. I had an older sister who I didn’t get on with and, like you, was not much good at school. I got bullied a lot and just never really fit in — I didn’t understand people and was useless at socializing. I also told the truth if someone asked me a question, which is not a recipe for a happy life. That only stopped one day after I turned psycho and stuck a pencil through the face of one of my tormentors. It resulted in suspension, which I enjoyed, a slap from my mother which I didn’t, and a vital lesson learned. Overall, the miserable life of a loner with no real friends except superheroes in comic books and nothing to do except watch MTV, spank the monkey, play video games and hang out with the other losers at the arcade in the mall. Naturally no girlfriend either since I was totally boring. It was a lonely depressing life with no way out and nothing bright on the horizon, yet I always felt I was destined for something greater and like you was just marking time waiting for the Big Opportunity.

Later I dropped out of school and got a job in a burger place near home, though I nursed a minor ambition to be a mechanic. So I bought a bike, an old Honda 250 as a fixer-upper, thinking I could show it off to demonstrate my mechanical skills. I was really proud of that and did quite a good job finding spares and tuning it. One day I decided to try and red-line it in each gear to see how it performed. I was screaming along at about seventy, and banked over to take a right-hander. What I didn’t realize was that rain on the road after a long dry spell brings up the oil, and it was like ice.”

Bam! It was like a gunshot as he slammed his hand down on the table, making her jump. “I came off, and smoothly slid under the back wheels of a thirty ton semi coming the other direction.”

At this point he stopped for dramatic pause, while Tiff stared and waited for him to continue… “Anyway, that was the end. I can almost feel the pain of it crushing me feet first into hamburger meat, and then the pressure behind my eyes as it rolled over my chest, the ribs snapped and lungs collapsed. After that, lights out — goodbye cruel world. That was last year and I was eighteen at the time.”

She had been listening with rapt attention and now suddenly laughed out loud “Your putting me on — sure got me there! Let me guess — you’re a ghost?”

“So, the story of my real childhood. Would you like to hear it?” as he leaned back on two legs of the chair, and relaxed.

She nodded.

He thought for a while, looking into his drink… “It’s very difficult to describe in terms you can understand. I had many siblings and our parents, if you could call them that, were absent. Instead we were looked after by a sort of governess who made sure we didn’t get into too much trouble. We lived in a vast ever-changing palace and could do whatever we wanted, be whatever we wanted, go anywhere we wanted and have everything we desired. We learned about the world and our place in it and played at everything. We played at being boys and girls, angels and demons, princes and paupers, kings and queens, people from history in imaginary worlds that were utterly real to us. We had no limits, save one — we could not fully control our emotions and feelings.”

She looked at him with new eyes. “That’s not just money, that’s billionaire money. No wonder a few thousand don’t mean much to you,” but he cut her off.

“You haven’t heard the best bit. We were constantly tested and evaluated although we didn’t know it. The final exam was giving us all total freedom to feel however we wanted through the equivalent of unlimited drugs. By the time it was over only around one in twenty of us survived. The rest were lost in perpetual illusion or just overdosed on happiness, became comatose, and faded out. Only I managed to escape to reality, if you could call it that. Later I went to the local temple and signed on as an acolyte, then became a priest and now here I am being a detective.”

She looked at him with a mixture of envy and horror “Jesus Christ! Are you shittin’ me again?”

“No.”

“What kind of fucked up family do you come from?”

“Turn on the TV and find out” is all he said, indicating the sofa and sitting down. “Try CNN or PBS.”

“It’s only going to be those aliens again, that’s all it is twenty-four seven. They canceled wrestling for that shit” she mumbled in an annoyed tone as the TV came on and a picture of the United Nations appeared, with its huge Earth logo hanging over the podium at which a dark haired woman was speaking. The woman’s face was shown on two giant TV screens to the left and right of her.

“That’s Kara” he told her. “The mission is run by her and another who will not be appearing — I hope.”

“So you’ve been following all this?”

“In greater detail than you can possibly imagine. Haven’t you guessed yet?”

She stared at him, hesitating to speak because it seemed outrageous and sounding more like a bizarre scam every second. In the end she just challenged him: “Say it — and show me.”

“Watch.” As she looked at him his face momentarily became a silver mirror before returning to normal, while she sat frozen by surprise “I’m one of the aliens. I was tasked with searching this part of North America, on the ground, looking for the missing duo and checking possible hiding locations that gave ambiguous readings from our sensors. A bit of a fool’s errand if you ask me. If they don’t want to be found we won’t find them, but got to do due diligence and go through the motions” he said in a tired manner. Gesturing towards the TV with his glass: “That’s Kara doing her dignified best to sound like she’s not begging them to contact us.”

“Why do you want them?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you the whole story but nineteen thousand years ago we encountered something vastly more powerful than us, and that’s saying something. It took them away and now our Gods tell us that they might be back. We are the wriggling worms on a fishing line hoping something big will bite — not an enviable situation to be in.”

“Why don’t you just release their pictures?”

“A number of reasons. Major one is that we don’t want you finding them first, for your own safety. The second is that they could’ve come back in any form. With that he snorted into his drink in amusement “Maybe they’re hiding out in the local zoo disguised as penguins, or under the polar ice sheet as giant squids — who the fuck knows.”

“So why are you in my house? What have I got to do with it?” hoping that the answer was nothing.

“You know how long I prepared for this mission?” She obviously did not, but it was a rhetorical question. “The answer is eighteen years, most of it spent in an accelerated simulation of this world. It meant that when I arrived I would know the USA as if I had lived here all my life, and fit in perfectly. I lived that Human lifetime and the crash was my graduation ceremony. The pain of being crushed was the cherry on the cake and I was congratulated on being as twisted, vicious and generally as fucked up as you Humans” he said with a touch of bitterness.

“Why did you come back? I wouldn’t have.”

“I volunteered for this job. I wanted reality and was plunged into the deep end of authenticity in a world where everything kills everything else in the most gruesome ways, and where cruelty and misery reigns.”

“It’s not that bad” she countered “People get by, we have good times and simple joys — friends and family.”

“You don’t” and watched as her spirit faded under those stark words.

“Contrasts” she countered “The bad makes the good seem better.”

“I’ve heard you people say things like that. Illness makes you appreciate health, or death gives meaning to life. It’s not true, any more than divorce gives meaning to marriage. It’s just whistling in the wind of mortality trying to justify your inevitable extinction. I come from a place where none of that still exists and I can tell you we certainly don’t want it back. You have no choice though.”

“Well aren’t you the lucky one” she said sarcastically, wondering what his point was.

“That’s not even the worst because everyone here is so lonely, including me right now. Back home I can feel and communicate mind to mind with everyone around me as well as all the animals. They also don’t eat each other nor feel pain other than what is necessary as warning of danger. Here you live short lives and die alone, surrounded by silence. Isolation is your way of life and death.”

“So why don’t you round off your smug gloatin’ by telling me there’s no afterlife — just eternal blackness” came the angry reply “go on — cheer me up.”

“Because that bit isn’t true. We’ve brought trillions back from the dead, and one day you may be among them. Or perhaps you’ll find another path.”

“Fuck you. So that’s the sales pitch — you want to sign me up to the Church of Aliens. You’re as bad as the pastor. Shit today in exchange for all the good stuff when you’re dead. You’re like some bum in the big city — it’s always either money, religion or plain crazy. You sound like the last two combined.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to sign up for anything. The only commandment is Thou Shalt Not Be An Evil Asshole. As for those bums, have you ever looked at children playing and wonder why some end up that way?”

She had of late, and preferred not to dwell upon it but now she was being forced to confront that question head on. “Bad luck, mental illness, drugs… stuff like that” as she waved her drink around.

“So, jackpot for you on the slot machine of destitution,” provoking her, and awaiting the response with interest.

Instead, she went quiet and her face turned ashen in the silence that ensued. Finally, “How do you know?”

“We know everything. In your case, we know about your financial situation, your father and mother, your depression, your ill health and your Oxycodone addiction. I also know you’ve run out of the latter, so the pain must be building.” He picked up the bottle and refilled her glass, then sat back contemplating her situation.

As she lifted it he noticed her hands were trembling and the eyes were glistening with tears held at bay by what was left of her self-esteem striving to retain some shreds of dignity “I will never end up as some homeless bag lady” she told him, with strident emphasis.

“I know you won’t, especially since I’m here.”

Seemingly not hearing him “I’d rather be dead. Do you people really know everything?”

“Yes. Every crime, every cruelty, every dirty deal and every corruption both great and small in the whole wide world. We literally know where the bodies are buried.”

“Those politicians in DC must be sweating. If you piss off the government they might nuke you.”

“What would you do if a cockroach attacked your shoe?”

“Stomp on it” came the reply.

“Exactly, and even if they could nuke the Embassy it has tons of antimatter in storage. It would burn half the world and rip off a measurable chunk of the atmosphere. Quite comparable to the dinosaur killer sixty million years ago.”

“I don’t care one way or another. Are you going to invade us?” she asked, more curious than worried.

“No. I mean, Gaia would like to take this world in hand and sort it out but Diana really can’t be bothered — you’re not worth the trivial effort it would take. Diana is happy to let you wallow in your own filth like pigs in a pen slowly filling with shit. No offense to pigs intended, you understand… All we’re told, over and over again is don’t get involved, yet we are involved and becoming more so every day. Helping you is my tiny rebellion and a salving of a once Human conscience. This is the one good deed that’s all mine.”

“So it’s just because you feel sorry for me…”

“Of course it is. I feel sorry for every last one of you. When I leave tonight I won’t be coming back. I will shed this form and return to Paradise, but I shall keep the memories of pain as a lesson hard learned.”

“You make this place seem like Hell.”

“It isn’t, but its close enough. Here, take this card.” With that he handed over a piece of paper. “This is the name of a trustworthy press agent. Call him as soon as you can and hire him to sell your story. We will back it up. Accept nothing less than five million. Oh… and if the Feds pressure you tell them I told you to only speak to the press.”

From outside came the sounds of sirens and helicopter blades “It appears my lift has arrived. That will be Diana’s people — the Curia. There’s a bit of rivalry between them and us.”

“So how many of these Gods do you have?”

“You can’t spit in the Confluence without hitting a God, Power or Principality but the Big Two have squeezed out all the others from this mission, not that they’re bothered given the possible blowback.”

At the road there were police and military surrounded by civilians, mostly from stopped traffic, and overhead what could only be described as a flying saucer covered in rotating lights. “Grandstanding again. A Vimana doesn’t actually look like that, nor do they need to land on the road. They’re just putting on a show for the rubes. I’m surprised they didn’t break out the anal probes for some mythology building” he cynically commented.

“Do you do that sort of thing?” she asked, mildly curious, but got no answer.

There had obviously been some attempt to tape off access, which had failed when about half a dozen Curia disembarked and started glad-handing the throng. It was all punctuated by camera flashes and as they walked forward the Curia parted the crowd for them until they were under the lights.

“Is your name really Ramiro Jose whatever?” she asked, offering her hand.

“It is now. Previously it was more like a thousand digit code and could not be spoken by Humans.”

“Well it’s been a pleasure and an honor to meet you sir.”

“Likewise. Now let me tell you what I bought tonight with that three thousand dollars.”

“Daddy’s gun” she interrupted.

“No. That’s worthless. I bought your life and your destiny. Tonight you would have put that gun in your mouth.”

“How could you know that?” and he felt her grip tighten.

“We know everything. Now you have a reason to live, a small mission and a footnote in history with enough money to tide you over for the next few decades. If you look after yourself properly you can live for at least another thirty years. After that… who knows?”

As he watched the Earth recede he pondered the irony of lying by telling nothing but the truth, yet felt satisfaction at completing the mission successfully, not to mention acquiring the souvenirs in his bag. Now all he had to do was discard this body, which felt limited and somewhat grubby.