Authors: Doug Vossen
Skyfire (12 page)
“Fine. Your woman and the kid go to the docs. You’re headed to the TQ booth.”
“That’s fine. Thank you, sergeant.”
Callie and the other escort branched off with Jessica. Trent slowed down and watched to make sure they were headed toward the aid station.
“Come on,” said the sergeant, nudging Trent toward the TQ trailers.
Fine, whatever. I can make my case when I talk to the real adults here. This is a great unit. I refuse to let some fuckin’ POGs ruin that for me. I wonder if anyone I know is still around. Fort Drum is like a black hole, people stay there forever.
“Sergeant, what am I being detained for?” Trent asked.
“Look man, I don’t think you’re a bad dude. But you’re armed with more hardware on your long-gun than most people in this entire brigade. And you rushed an ECP during a national crisis.”
“Sergeant, I did not RUSH anything,” said Trent. If I wanted to kill soldiers I could have done it 300 meters ago on the way into the goddamn park! I have a sick little girl! I bought that long-gun and all the other shit when I was at Fort Benning in 2004 as a Lieutenant!”
“Not the story I heard. Anyway, shut up. If you are what you say you are, then you’ll know the deal. A rep from the two-shop will be with you shortly. You can plead your case to him.”
Yeah, no shit it wasn’t the “story” you heard from that skittish kid at the ECP. Sad thing is, I was probably no better in Iraq a decade ago. I wonder how much of the shit that went down over there was a simple misunderstanding that escalated to a stupid situation. Shit, probably 90%. I wish I could slug down just ONE tumbler of Jameson right now. I hate it when the circus is in town. Whatever faggot, FOCUS. Enough of that now. You’re about to be on the business end of a tactical questioning. Meanwhile Jessica and Callie are getting treated God-knows-how, and you don’t even know if your fucking wife is dead or alive. She’s probably fucking dead. C’mon, Captain Hughes. No time for this. BE Captain Hughes, not that embarrassing drunk. You’re better than this.
Trent walked forward quietly with his escort, accepting his fate. He walked up a set of four detachable metal stairs outside a portable trailer unit. This was presumably where he would wait until representatives from the intelligence shop showed up to extend their hospitality.
Fucking shit. I woke up today hoping PSE&G would turn the fucking power back on in my apartment. Now I’m about to get interrogated by military intelligence people from the very unit I once served with. If it wasn’t me, I’d be laughing my fucking ass off at the irony.
JACK
“Shall we begin?” asked the colonel.
“We shall,” replied Ronak.
I have so many fucking questions it’s retarded,
Jack thought.
“Ronak, I will drop the pretenses. I have no idea how to even begin going about digging for information relevant to this situation. I am completely awestruck at both the phenomenon over the city, and the fact that I am one of the first three human beings to ever have a discussion with an extra-terrestrial. Would you mind satisfying my curiosity first? When I have the ability to make contact with my superiors, they will no doubt have questions.”
“You will not be able to contact anyone if it involves utilization of your infrastructure, not now and not at any time in the near future,” stated Ronak plainly.
“I want to know why but I ask that you please humor me with answers to some obvious questions first,” replied the colonel.
“Acceptable.”
“Dude, how do you know English?” Karl interrupted.
The colonel looked extremely agitated.
“What?” said Karl. “I’m fuckin’ DYING to know!”
“Mr. McMullin, what is in your pocket right now?” Ronak gestured to Karl’s right shoulder.
“This would be an iPhone.”
“What does it enable you to accomplish?”
“I can call people, text them, browse the internet, use apps. Normal phone shit.”
“Indeed, normal phone shit,” repeated Ronak. “Now imagine, if you would, that this device was a microscopic implant augmentation that allowed your brain to access all its functionality instantaneously: maps, communication, information, complex mathematical computations, designs of new applications for this technology.”
“I think I see where you’re going with this. How can you speak English with it?” Karl said.
“Continue this thought exercise, Karl. How advanced were these devices ten Earth solar orbits ago?” asked Ronak.
“They were total shit,” said Karl.
“Indeed,” said Ronak. “Would you say they improved considerably since then?”
“Absolutely.”
He’s leading my idiot friend to the concept of exponential improvement of technology. OK Karl, time to shut the fuck up.
“What he’s saying Karl,” interrupted Jack, “is that technology improves exponentially. In enough time, you’re going to have instant access to all available information in your brain, to the point where you no longer have to learn things the way we used to.”
“Aaahhh. Fuckin’ cool, man. I would’ve never failed classes back in school!”
The colonel was beside himself at the stupidity he’d allowed to enter the conversation. “Major McMullin, get out. You’re done.”
“Sir? Why?”
Shit, I knew it.
“Karl, shut up,” said Jack. “No more talking.”
“OK, OK!”
“Sir, he’ll shut up for good.” Jack glared at his friend.
Dude, for once, don’t fuckin’ do this to me. Remember that time you cock-blocked me at Club Tigerlilly in Scotland fifteen years ago? Stop fucking alien cock-blocking me and the colonel, man! Ugh, my loyalty to this asshole will be my career’s undoing, I swear. I should never have sat next to him in plebe chemistry.
The colonel took control of the conversation once again. “Ronak, excuse us. I can only imagine how primitive we seem to you. We are not as stupid as some of us would have you believe.”
Ronak stared blankly. “Colonel McColgan, this one has a deep insight I would like to further explore,” he said, gesturing toward to Jack. Ronak then nodded toward McMullin. “This one, as terrans say, is a hammer. When one is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. However, the spark within him is undeniable. We too have a great variety of specimens on my home world. In time, all of you will learn to control extraneous facets of ego and personality, so that you may contribute to the greater good in the most efficient way possible.”
This response seemed to calm the colonel. “Thank you for your understanding. Major McMullin will sit quietly for the duration of this conversation. Continuing on: you have instant access to perfect information and communication with all of your people, all the time?”
“Indeed. It is the natural course of evolution. Technology becomes one with biology, allowing for even greater leaps. Deception is eliminated, ego is mitigated, societal problems are on display for all to see, and a mass movement toward the greater good takes place, eventually vaulting society toward perpetual, exponential progress in all sectors. Your species is on pace to evolve this way as well. Most sentient races evolve in this manner if they possess the ability to manually manipulate and adjust their external environment. This, of course, is if they do not destroy themselves and their world in the process. You could also be on pace for extinction as a species if you are not careful. We have been watching your species since you began primitive industrialization.”
“How long has it been since your people merged technology and biology?” asked Colonel McColgan.
“Our evolutionary singularity took place approximately 774 Earth orbits ago. We commemorate its importance on a day my people refer to as ‘Unification Day.’ It was the beginning of a new era of progress, an era we still enjoy today,” explained Ronak.
“Your people, what do you call yourselves? Where did you come from?” asked McColgan.
“We hail from a planet that orbits a distant star, approximately 32,000 light years away. Our planet’s name is Æther. I am Ætherean.”
“How did you get here?”
“Our crowning achievement, carrying us to the vast star ocean, is a method of travel Ætherean scientists refer to as ‘Extra Local Propulsion,’ to put it in your language.”
Whoa, what the hell does he mean by ‘extra local?’ I have to ask.
“Sir, may I interject?” asked Jack.
“By all means Jack, please,” said the Colonel. Karl rolled his eyes.
“Ronak, I am going to ask an unorthodox question about the phenomenon over the city. I think it’s making people sick. I have a distinct internal sense as to what it may be. Would you indulge me?”
“Proceed, Major.” Ronak was intrigued, though he did not show it. Conversations were more interesting when they were unlinked by technological augmentation.
“When human beings dream, and also when they die, their pineal gland floods their entire body with a chemical compound known as Dimethyltriptamine. We refer to this naturally occurring compound colloquially as DMT. When the human body is flooded with more DMT than it knows what to do with, the person experiences hallucinations. Different people see different things. Sometimes, people communicate with what they perceive to be otherworldly beings. Theories differ as to exactly what these various interactions are, but I am certain I have seen that thing over the city during a DMT experience many years ago. I cannot explain anything concrete about it, but I can intuit that its intentions are the worst kind. My question is this: did I go someplace real? And did I see what I think I saw?”
The colonel was dumbfounded. “Jack, what the hell are you asking?”
Karl’s eyes lit up. He loved a good pot of stirred shit.
“Colonel, your subordinate is partially correct. He is on the fringe of a much greater concept that will be necessary to begin exploring options for your species.”
“Please,” said McColgan, “explain how what sounds like a fucking acid trip is the key to the aid station full of incapacitated soldiers and civilians, and how it has ANYTHING to do with the giant object hovering over lower Manhattan.”
Ronak took a breath. “How your species currently perceives reality, the laws of physics, and the concept of creation is greatly flawed.”
I knew it. I knew shit didn’t add up after that night in Afghanistan.
“How so?” asked McColgan.
“Let’s begin with the science your species has developed to explain that which is, was, and ever will be. Currently, your views are based on quantum mechanics. This concept is a probability calculus that enables you to compute the probability of each possibility allowed in every dynamic situation. However, what is often overlooked is the fact that the movement of all quantum objects is always shrouded in uncertainty.”
“Please, go on,” said McColgan. “I follow up to this point. I apologize in advance if I have rudimentary questions. I got a C+ in Physics back in college, and that was over twenty years ago.”
Ronak seemed conditioned to expect idiocy from a first contact scenario. He remained unfazed. “Building upon this uncertainty, we need to examine the related concept of quantum causation. Tell me, colonel, what is matter made of?”
“Atoms?”
“Indeed. Elementary particles make atoms, atoms make molecules, molecules make cells, and cells make us.”
“Nothing groundbreaking there, Ronak.”
“Tell me, any of you, how do you know you exist?” asked Ronak.
“I just know,” said the colonel.
“One of our philosophers who lived a little less than four hundred years ago, a man named René Descartes, said ‘I think therefore I am.’ I’m personally inclined to agree with him,” said Jack.
“I am aware of Mr. Descartes, Jack. He was a valued thinker. However, this overarching viewpoint of looking at everything from the bottom up is called upward causation. It is gravely flawed.”
Where’s he going with this?
“When asked to describe your existence, the vast majority of your scientists say cells make neurons, neurons make your brain, and your brain, in turn, produces consciousness.”
“Well, yeah,” said McColgan. “How else would it work?”
“It works in reverse. The correct, paradox-free interpretation of quantum physics is only capable of producing material waves of possibility for consciousness. Consciousness has the ultimate power, called downward causation.”
Holy fucking shit. My mind is blown. Everything I ever thought I knew is wrong. Everything taught to me in school is wrong. My god…
“Ronak, this is making my brain hurt,” said the colonel.
“Do you require medical attention?”
“Negative, it’s an expression. I’m just trying to wrap my stupid head around what you just said.”
“May I continue?” asked Ronak.
“Please,” said McColgan, hoping the next piece of conversation would shed light on what was quickly becoming an extremely murky subject.
“Consciousness possesses the power to create manifest reality by freely choosing from the realm of infinite possibility. It is not the brain epiphenomenon most of you think it is, but much, much more. It is the ground of all being in which all material possibilities, including the brain, are embedded,” explained Ronak.
The colonel looks confused as shit,
thought Jack.
I kind of am too.
“Fuckin’ awesome man!” thundered Karl, in his usual brusque tone. “So it’s not like, ‘I think therefore I am,’ it’s like, ‘I’m looking at that shit so it’s real!’ Right?”
Ronak glared at Karl. “This one is gruff, but grasps the concept at its most basic level. Our brains utilize quantum processing in every observation, which is ultimately nothing more than a quantum measurement in itself. All quantum waves of possibility reside in a domain that transcends space and time. You refer to this as consciousness. My race refers to it simply as, ‘The Veil.’”
This isn’t real. Wake up, Rugerman.
“That being said,” Ronak continued, “all of this is in its infancy in your most advanced academic institutions, laboratories, museums, and other facilities.”
“So we’re on pace to figure this out for ourselves then?” asked Jack.
“Indeed. It is the natural course of evolution to develop an understanding of The Veil, and eventually how to manipulate it. Or, more accurately, exist through it, for your specific purposes. It is inevitable if your race does not self-destruct beforehand. You are at a crucial point in your existence.”
“So that’s how you got here?”
“Indeed. I am a Legate, an envoy of my people. It is a threefold role of Ætherean political representation, altruistic assistance, and combat, when required. My vessel is called Resolute Colony Vessel IV. It is currently in orbit between Jupiter and one of its moons, which you refer to as Europa. Our technology ensures it is hidden from view of your Hubble Space Telescope. If you’ve not determined this already, we clearly mean you no harm. We wish to assist you,” said Ronak.
I kind of know the answer to this already, but I’ll bite.
“Assist us with what?” asked Jack.
Ronak gestured toward the window facing Manhattan and the phenomenon hovering above the city.
“Fair enough, Ronak,” said McColgan. “Thank you for taking the time to indulge us. This is quite a lot to process. I have a feeling we haven’t even scratched the surface.”
