Authors: J M Leitch
Carlos leaned back and
crossed his arms. ‘I don’t like the way he gets in my face. Every
conversation’s like an interrogation. And he never buys a drink.’
‘What do you expect?
He’s an Israeli and he’s Jewish. But he’s mellowed, don’t you think?’ Carlos
shrugged. ‘Come on. He’s not near as aggressive as he used to be. When we first
met him he’d not been long out of military service. He still looks fit though.
You wouldn’t want to mess with him. You know… you’d be good contacts for each
other.’
Carlos uncrossed his
arms. ‘Hey, perhaps that’s it. Why he wants to keep in touch. He’s got
technology our members can use and if he helps OOSA, it will help boost IAI’s
image. Now it makes sense.’
‘He’s not all take, you
see? He helped Erika out too – with the job.’
‘I guess. And he’s
selling me those vintage music magazines.’
‘Bet you can’t wait to
get your hands on them for your collection.’
‘Two Melody Makers and
an NME, all with features on the Stones… God knows what he wants for them.’
Drew laughed. ‘Rather
you than me doing the bargaining.’
‘Erika’s picking them up
from his office tomorrow. Because he’s never here for long, I’m going to deal
with her.’
Carlos’s iTab beeped. ‘It’s
Hans,’ he said, ‘he’s got ITU-T’s preliminary report. He’ll meet me first thing
tomorrow.’
‘Be sure to keep me
posted,’ Drew replied. ‘I feel I’ve got a special connection with Zul, helping
you name him and all.’
CHAPTER 7
‘So what does it say?’
Hans was in Carlos’s
office with a printout of the ITU-T preliminary report in his hand.
‘They confirm what we
already know.’
‘But how did the
messages get in? And who sent them?’
‘They originated from
sessions logged in on your tag.’
‘What?’ Carlos shouted.
‘They say I sent them to myself too? Show me… prove to me they came from my
terminal sessions.’ He punched in his access code on the virtual keyboard and
rolled back his chair gesticulating towards the monitor with his hands, his jaw
clenched in fury. ‘Come on – call it all up. I want to see it with my own
eyes.’
Hans moved round the
desk while Carlos stomped over to the seating area and threw himself down on
the sofa.
‘Jesus!’ he spat as he
nearly sat on his iTab. Hans looked round to see what was wrong. ‘What are you
staring at?’ Carlos yelled.
It was only a moment
before Hans called Carlos back to the desk. ‘Here it is.’ Carlos walked up
behind him. ‘See that? That’s the output from the log file search – it
proves the messages came from your terminal session identifier.’
Carlos shook his head.
When
Hans cleared the screen, they saw the incoming message prompt.
‘Click on it,’ Carlos
commanded.
Hans gasped. While he’d
been using Carlos’s terminal, a message had come in. Another e-mail from the
Galactic Federation.
Hans took off his
glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘It can’t be…’
‘Open it!’
Again there was no text
in the e-mail, just one video file attached.
‘Play it!’ Carlos
snarled.
Hans clicked on the icon
and Zul’s face filled the screen.
‘Carlos, hesitate no
longer. Put aside your disbelief. We will send you a sign to convince you we
are what we claim and that we truly do know you… absolutely.
‘Deep in your heart you
know further investigation of your computer system is futile. Our
communications have no Earthly origin. The time has come for you to trust in
yourself. Take courage. Do not procrastinate. Take this issue to the next level
and when you meet the Secretary-General of your United Nations tomorrow,
convince him of our authenticity. If you believe in us and believe in yourself,
you will know what to do.’
Hans sat as if
paralysed. ‘But, that’s impossi… I was using your terminal, your tag, you were
sitting right behind me… there’s no way you could have sent that.’
Carlos stared at the
screen.
‘And how does he know
I’m meeting the boss tomorrow? Check it out,’ Carlos barked, ‘perhaps
this
message will tell us more.’
Hans rushed out of the
office as Carlos collapsed on his chair.
The monitor buzzed, interrupting Carlos’s discussion with Corrinne about the
Session programme. Carlos clicked on the instant message icon and Hans’s face
appeared as Carlos hunched over the screen impatient for news. ‘
Sí
,
Hans, what have you got?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at
all.’
Carlos hurled his hands
in the air and shouted, ‘What do you mean, nothing! Hey, you were here!’
‘Yes, but it’s no
different from the others. It’s from the same spoofed address sent from your
terminal session.’ He shrugged. ‘We can’t explain it,’ and his voice started to
creep up the register. ‘I don’t know what else to say. I don’t
have
any
answers.’
‘Let me see if I
understand you right,’ Carlos said, struggling to control his exasperation
which was quickly turning to anger. ‘You’re saying these e-mails have been
hacked into my sessions by a mystery person with a fictitious e-mail address
and you and ITU-T have no idea how?’
Silence.
‘That you have no
explanation… no explanation for it at all?’
Silence.
‘So tell me… what do I
do next?’
Silence.
‘And what if they do
send a sign, Hans? Like he said. What if I get a sign that makes me believe?
What then? Will
that
prove to you and everyone else the messages are
authentic?’
Silence.
‘Will
that
prove
they’re coming from the Galactic Federation? Because if you can’t show how they
got in, then that’s the only logical answer.’
Silence
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I… I don’t know, sir. I
don’t know what to think.’
‘Nor do I, Hans. All I
know is you guys are no help at all,’ and Carlos ran his hand through his hair.
‘Zul’s right,’ he muttered at the screen. ‘I need to take this to the next
level, because clearly you
and
ITU-T are out of your depth.’
Carlos mulled over the anomalies he was facing.
He had always been
public in his belief that the existence of otherworldly beings was a
possibility and even speculated that some may already have visited Earth.
However, there was something else he’d never shared with anyone, not even
Elena. Ever since he was a little boy it had always been his dream to make
contact with another life form. It was this fantasy that sparked off his
passion to learn everything he could about the universe in which he lived. It
was a crazy thought, but Carlos couldn’t help wondering if Zul knew about his
secret. Although at the beginning he’d discounted out of hand the Galactic
Federation’s claim to know him “absolutely”, given the way things were panning
out, he was no longer so sure and for the first time started considering
whether the messages could be genuine.
But that was crazy
– there must be some way to prove they had an Earthly explanation.
So what could it be… new
technology?
Perhaps Drew was right
and it was a security company’s illegal marketing ploy. Or perhaps someone
wanted to discredit OOSA or to use the new discovery as a blackmail tool. But
that didn’t make sense either. Why? To pressure OOSA into imparting some new
technology? That was ridiculous! Disseminating new technology was their
mission, for God’s sake.
The flashing incoming message prompt caught Carlos’s attention. It was an
e-mail from Erika. She was ready to instigate a holovideo call from Joseph’s
office to show Carlos the music magazines. Carlos replied to the e-mail and
walked over to a crescent-shaped conference table that faced a blank wall in
his office. To the uninitiated it looked like any other wall, but in fact a
special screen was incorporated in the wall fabric itself that enabled holograms
to be displayed. Discreet, precisely positioned projectors, speakers and
microphones allowed interaction with the three-dimensional images, giving the
illusion that they were physically in the room.
The table was special
too. Engineered by leaders in the field of high-tech manufacturing, it featured
the latest haptic display technology workspace area stretching one metre above
and, on the horizontal plane, one metre beyond the surface of the desk top.
This extraordinary invisible workspace allowed computer-generated holograms
appearing within its boundary to be touched, manipulated and “passed” from
person to person. The total integrated audio, visual and tactile effect was so
lifelike, it was easy to forget that the apparitions weren’t real.
As if by magic, the wall
faded and a virtual Erika appeared.
‘Erika. How are you?’
Carlos asked, pouring himself a glass of water from the jug on the table.
‘I’m fine.’
‘You got your boys okay
last night?’
‘Sure. They’d been
skating. They collapsed into bed exhausted the minute I got them home.’
‘Got the magazines?’
‘Sure.’
‘Do you have haptic
display facility?’
‘No, Joseph’s only got
holovideo. But I can hold them up and show you.’ She lifted the magazines in
front of her one by one and leafed through the pages.
‘They look in good
condition.’
‘They are pristine.’
‘What’s Joseph want for
them.’
They agreed a price and
Carlos told Erika he’d collect and pay for them when he got back from his trip
the following week.
After Erika’s virtual
image disappeared and as Carlos was about to go back to his desk, a second
hologram manifested. But instead of on the wall, this one appeared in the
haptic workspace area on the conference table in front of him. It took the form
of a brown box. Carlos stared at it knowing it couldn’t have anything to do
with Erika. Muffled sounds came from inside the carton and growing impatient
waiting for something to happen he stood up.
He put his hands on the
box, marvelling at the technology that enabled him to feel the texture of the
cardboard as if it were real. He opened the unsealed virtual flaps and peered
inside.
Jesus Christ! Nothing
could have prepared him for what was in there. It was the last thing on Earth
he expected to see. Gazing up at him with an unfocused stare out of violet
coloured eyes was a baby – a naked, newborn baby girl.
Carlos’s face drained of
all colour. He could not believe his eyes as he watched her kicking her dimpled
legs and waving her chubby arms at him. But then her mood changed. She puckered
up her mouth, thrashed her head this way and that and, as her face turned puce,
she let out a piercing cry. So did Carlos.
His mind was racing. Was
this the sign Zul promised? If so… why a baby?
The longer he stared the
more desperate the baby became and when she shrieked again waving her little
arms and legs at him in distress, he picked her up.
She felt so real and as
Carlos cradled her in his arms he felt some primeval urge deep within him stir
as he fell head over heels in unconditional love for the first time in his
life. He was a clumsy giant compared with the tiny baby and would have done
anything to protect her.
She settled as if she
was a living being and Carlos rocked her awkwardly while she burrowed into his
chest gurgling. He studied her features with wonderment; her elegantly shaped
ears, her round indigo eyes darkening into depths he could only wonder at, the
perfect tiny nose, the flawless cupid bow lips, and the soft fuzz of first hair
the colour of sunbeams. She was so beautiful, it hurt.
He held her up to his
face and kissed her cheek then hugged her again close to his chest, one big
hand cradling her head into his shoulder, the other supporting her weight. He
talked to her in a hushed voice until her breathing synchronised with his and
for a moment they were as one.
But then he noticed her
little form slowly changing. Fine, downy hair appeared all over her skin, which
began to wrinkle as her eyes started to bulge. Her eyebrows and the hair on her
head retracted as her legs shrunk and her nails disappeared. The shape of her
head changed. Her eyes drifted further apart and it looked like someone was
using a rubber to erase her facial features and blur them. Her head looked huge
and ugly compared with the rest of her body. Her limbs grew shorter and her
fingers and toes contracted into buds. Her whole body grew smaller and lighter
until it dwindled into the tiniest tadpole in the palm of his hand and
disappeared.
He looked up, shocked.
He gazed around the room. He examined his hands again, searching for the bundle
that had briefly given him such joy. He felt robbed. He rested his trembling
hands on the edge of the table, as if clinging onto something big and solid to
ground himself would help keep his thoughts grounded too.
That was when he heard a
chorus of voices… very faint at first… then swelling in volume.