By Andrew Fraknoi
“If a decision is made to send a message to extraterrestrial intelligence, it should be sent on behalf of all Humankind, rather than from individual States or groups.”
From the Draft Declaration of Principles Concerning the Sending of Communications to Extraterrestrial Intelligence of the International Academy of Astronautics (2005).
By the time my aides and I arrive at the hearing room, on a summer morning in the District when the moist heat quickly threatens to defeat the body’s defenses, the reporters with their Omniweb cameras already line the hallway. The questions they shout range from the political to the deeply personal: “Do you think Perkins has any chance at re-election after this?” “Sam, can you sleep at night after what happened?”
I keep walking; the trick is to look interested at the same time you are ignoring them. That way, they still feel like you might at any moment say something important worth recording. After the usual health scan at the door, we make it into the hearing room without any incidents.
It’s an old room in the Capital, whose furniture has not been updated, despite the wealth of passive and active electronics that envelop it. The witness chair is especially uncomfortable for someone with my bulk—perhaps on purpose. As I get my tablet connection organized, I flash on how many times I’ve missed my Pelecize appointment in the last few weeks. Mandy has been after me to work less, but that’s hard to do when you’re the “Deputy Chief of Staff for Crises and Havoc,” as the wags in the media have been calling me.
It seems like governing is all about crises these days. If it’s not the right wing of the Freedom party lobbying for the interests of their mega-business donors, it’s another symptom of climate change suddenly making lives miserable in some region of the country. This crisis, about aliens in space and their messages, is one we really didn’t need! But now the bombing of the telescope has got the country all riled up, and we have to deal with it. The hearing this morning gives the Conservative Coalition in the Senate a chance to embarrass a Liberal Coalition administration, and they wouldn’t miss it for the world!
***
An hour later, despite the best efforts of Chairman Hayes, only a few Senators have gotten through their first round of speeches and questions—mostly speeches. My body is yearning for my padded office chair, instead of the torture of the one I’m sitting in. And now, one of our most implacable political enemies on the committee is having his turn.
Senator Sinclair Babcock, round-faced with thinning hair, is in his fifth term in the upper chamber. He is wearing his red “Religious Is Right” button high enough on his lapel so that it is visible to the cameras in close-ups. In his resonant southern accent, so familiar to Omniweb audiences, he interrupts me again and says, “What I was asking, Mr. Chairman, is how such a decision could possibly have been reached. How this President… how this White House… could have decided to bomb and kill American citizens on American soil? To kill them while they were expressing their constitutional freedom of religion and freedom of speech! That is what I’d like to know, Mr. Chairman. That’s what the American people want to know.”
I am on my third cup of Coffiest for the day, which helps me to focus, but will make me jittery later on. It can’t be helped; for the second day, I could only get five hours of sleep last night.
Babcock seems to be waiting for a reply. I answer, a bit more tartly than my staff would probably like, “Yes, Senator, and I am trying to tell you, if I could just finish even a few sentences in a row.”
There is hissing and booing from the One Cosmos, One God people in the audience, but Hayes bangs the gavel, and they subside.
“As I was saying earlier, Senator, we practically begged Pastor Woodbury to help us reach a peaceful accommodation before he sent his message into space. We tried to get through to him and his people in any way we could. You’ll remember, Senator Babcock, that we approached your staff to help us and were rebuffed several times.”
Babcock scowls and shakes his head. “Mr. Landsman, really! Why should we help the government, and especially this government, trample the rights of our own citizens? No one who believes in freedom should have cooperated with your attempts to deny it.”
“Well, Senator, with respect, that’s not how we saw the situation. There are limits to freedom when the welfare of others is at stake. Whatever you may think about our actions, the Perkins administration believed that the long-term safety of our entire planet was the overriding question we had to worry about.”
“What pretentious rot,” Babcock mutters, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up. Louder he says, “You liberals just didn’t like the message the Pastor was going to send.”
“Senator, we didn’t want any message going out until we understood the situation better. Surely, we owed that to the American public. As the President’s Science Advisor has been explaining for weeks, this was a new situation in terms of making our planet noticeable. Until now, the energy leaking from Earth or sent into space on purpose has been at a pretty low level. Our TV and radio transmissions certainly haven’t been strong enough or directed enough to be overheard at the distance of the stars.
“But now, as a result of our receiving the message from that alien civilization in the Cygnus constellation, Pastor Woodbury and his people knew exactly what direction to beam his message. By using that big dish he bought, he could send something that had a real chance of being received by those aliens. And he was going to send a message to the Cygnans on his own, without consulting anyone else on Earth…. including the government of the country his group lives in—and, if I may say, gets his tax-exemption in.”
We’d practiced that little dig in several of the sessions we’d held!
“Freedom of religion, freedom of speech,” the Senator barks, just a few shades louder than necessary.
“With all due respect, Senator, those freedoms, as I said, only go so far. I mean, let’s say your religion demanded that you release deadly nerve gas in the Washington NovoMetro. I think we would all agree that the government’s responsibility to safeguard our citizens trumps your religious freedom.
“Based on the advice we received—from both our science team and the Justice Department—the President felt that he had an overriding obligation to protect all our citizens. To protect them from having our location betrayed to some aliens about whom we know very little right now.”
Babcock is wiping his face with a handkerchief. I don’t think he cares about the message or its consequences. He’s playing to the Gallery, and to his base watching on the web. Ever since the long-ago Obama presidency, every new issue seems to become another chance for the dominant parties to battle it out for the long game. Both know that their real audience at these hearings is the voting public, tuned to the channels and social media platforms they like and hearing the news filtered to their taste.
“Right now, Senator, it’s likely that no intelligent creatures out there know that there is a technological civilization here on Earth. But once the Pastor sent his message to Cygnus, that particular group of aliens would eventually know that we are here.
“The message the Pastor wanted to send would take 35 years to get to the aliens’ star and, even if they respond right away, another 35 years to come back to us. That means any decision we make about messages today could have consequences for our planet starting 70 years from now. Forgive me, Senator, but that’s a time when you and I will likely be dead and buried. So, it’s our children and their children who will have to deal with whatever those aliens might say or do to us.”
“Exactly my point,” interjects Babcock. “Why sacrifice our most valued freedoms now?”
I slump a little further down in my chair and reach for water, partly to keep from saying something I will regret.
But Babcock is not done, “Mr. Chairman, you know the outrage in all corners of our republic that’s been produced by this wanton act of government-sanctioned murder. I am trying to ascertain what possible emergency this administration could be using to justify what they did. To take such sudden action against a peaceful religious community! Mr. Landsman is telling me about fuzzy worries they had concerning some events that might or might not happen far in the future. Hardly a reason to kill American families right now! Well, Mr. Landsman, what was the hurry in calling in those drones?”
“Senator, the reason for hurry was simple. The time Pastor Woodbury said message transmission would start was fast approaching. Once such radio messages are sent out, there is no way to recall them.”
Babcock snorts and then says, “But it was a message of peace and humility, Mr. Landsman. There was nothing dangerous about the message. I know you left-wing atheists don’t cotton much to religion, but how could any beings out there not welcome a message that acknowledges our mutual roles in God’s plan?”
I sighed before I could stop myself. But we had worked on answers to that question too. “Senator, with respect, not even everyone on Earth can agree on the meaning of the Pastor’s message. Our science advisors made it very clear that we had no way of knowing how really alien intelligences might interpret it.
“In fact, as you know, leaders from many other countries and religions contacted the White House, emphasizing that Pastor Woodbury’s message did not speak for them—or for the people they represent. Their advice was the same as we got from scientists—to think long and carefully about what the first message that we send to those aliens should say.
“But leave aside the contents for a minute. Our advisors were worried about the mere existence of the Pastor’s message. When it arrived, the aliens would suddenly know something they didn’t know before. That our civilization was here, at this location in space.
“Who knows what technology these aliens might have? Our science council came up with a number of alarming ways that these aliens could eventually harm us. I should start with one key thing they told us—that the star these aliens live around is older than the Sun. Older by many, many millions of years. That means they could easily have a civilization much more advanced than we are. Our experts kept coming back to examples of how it went on Earth when a lower-technology civilization met a higher-technology one.”
Babcock tries to interrupt me, but I say, with some emphasis, “Please allow me to finish the thought, Senator.”
“Let me mention just a few of the scientists’ suggestions: We could be like termites to them—a pest to be exterminated as soon as possible. Or maybe they or other civilizations out there have a regular program of eliminating future competition. How? They could engineer a deadly virus to kill us all and send it our way with robot seeding probes. Or they could send some advanced machines to change the orbits of some of our asteroids, so they would eventually hit the Earth. Perhaps they have learned to use the energy of the stars to develop long-range weapons we don’t even dream of yet. It could be a really dangerous Galaxy out there, and many scientists told us we had to take the betrayal of our planet’s location seriously.”
Babcock pounds the table with a fist and says, “My God, you say ‘betrayal!’ Mr. Chairman, how this witness can twist and distort the meaning of what Pastor Woodbury was doing! When everyone now understands that contact between us and the Cygnans is part of God’s plan.”
***
When that alien message was first picked up by our radio dishes in New Mexico three years ago, none of us could have predicted its popularity. After the scientists deciphered it as best they could, they published their interpretation for everyone to see and think about.
Since it was the SETI Institute, a private nonprofit, whose project found the message, and not a government facility, there wasn’t anything we could do about their releasing it. Once the message was public, there were a lot of reactions—from governments, from academics, from religious leaders, from science fiction writers and fans, and from thousands of pundits on social media. The Omniweb was soon abuzz with commentary and opinion.
Still, the rapid growth of new religious groups connected with the message astonished everyone. Perhaps most surprising was the sudden emergence in the U.S. of the One Cosmos, One God movement, drawing members from fundamentalist Mega-churches, Omniweb ministries, rural cults, and other corners of fundamentalist Christianity. And with it came the quick rise of Woodbury, the charismatic “pastor to the stars,” whose ratings soon exceeded all the other preachers combined.
Woodbury’s platform was simple enough on the surface. He taught that the Cygnus civilization that sent out the message we intercepted was God’s direct agent. They were engaged in a last-ditch effort to save humanity from eternal punishment for our lack of belief, our venality, and our shrugging away the standards of decency that conservative religion calls for. Our one remaining road to salvation was to get in touch with the Cygnans immediately and to ask them what God says we must do. Therefore, there was nothing on Earth as urgent as contacting the Cygnans, to beg them to help us earn God’s forgiveness. When the Cygnans replied, we would hear directly the message God had for us.
Social scientists who studied religions explained to a working group the President asked me to set up, that, in times of great social and environmental stress, such sharply defined, straightforward beliefs had tremendous appeal to those inclined to see the world through a religious lens. And, indeed, people all over the country, and the world, started mailing Woodbury their money, their pleas for forgiveness, their pledges to live better lives.
Armed with large amounts of non-taxable cash, Woodbury had no trouble purchasing a sizeable, decommissioned, radar dish and hiring a small army of scientists and technicians to convert it into a workable system for beaming a return message toward the star in Cygnus. A gung-ho group of coders worked with advanced AI to translate his message into symbols and images that mimicked the way the aliens’ message was arranged.
Scientists and political leaders tried in vain to correct Woodbury’s purposeful misunderstanding of the Cygnan message. Its contents gave no indication that the aliens knew Earth was inhabited or even existed; it was not a message meant specifically for us, but only a general greeting for intelligent species in the Galaxy that they beamed in a vast, cosmic circle. The Cygnans had no idea whom it would reach.
Our science and coding experts also told us very clearly that there was nothing in the Cygnus message about the sender’s intentions. They could be benign, as Woodbury assumed, but they could also be hostile or, if they were advanced far beyond us, completely unfathomable.
But having staked an appealing position and found receptive ears, Woodbury and his growing legion of believers were not to be moved. As Woodbury tirelessly preached on all available media—the Cygnans were essentially our Guardian Angels, our bridge to the Creator, our last chance to do the right thing. And that anyone not ready to hear God’s plan through the Cygnans was doomed to eternal damnation with no second chance.
Woodbury’s appeals for money conveniently left out the 70-year travel time his message and any reply would require. By then, most of the people sending Woodbury money would be dead. When Woodbury was pressed on this issue, his responses generally fell into two categories. First, that the limitations of our science didn’t apply to an all-powerful God, who could surely choose to shorten the time before we hear His word. And, second, that 21 centuries had gone by since Christ walked the Earth, and so 70 years seemed a short time to wait for the fulfillment of His promise—even if it is our children who hear God’s blessed words.
How do you compete with the attractions of such a promise—at a time when our overpopulated, over-warmed planet is in such bad shape that only the most serious self-sacrifice by all its inhabitants is going to save it?
***
Babcock continues, “Mr. Chairman, it is now my sad duty, nay—obligation—to call out some of the names of the innocent victims of this tragedy, whose lives were suddenly ended by this wanton act of government-sponsored murder.
“There was Margaret Marsh, and her husband Al, together with their sons Ed and Larry. Ed and Larry were 6 and 8 years old, Mr. Chairman, little children merely obeying their parents and their pastor in doing their religious duty. And Ken Bitterson, and his wife Gina, whose daughters Nancy and Carol, were injured and have been left as orphans. The girls are only four and seven, for God’s sake. And along with Nancy and Carol, there is a long list of those faithful members of Reverend Woodbury’s congregation who are gravely injured. We still pray for them daily.
“With thoughts of these victims still fresh in our minds, Mr. Chairman, I would like to introduce into the record, this list, made with the expert help of Committee Counsel, of the laws of the United States that were broken in this wanton and murderous raid. And then I’d like to ask the witness about them.”
Hayes nods, saying, “Without objection, so ordered. As my good friend from Alabama is doubtlessly aware, his time is almost up. Perhaps you can ask about one or two in this round.”
“Why, yes, one or two will do just fine. Now, Mr. Landsman, as I am sure you know from your study of history, this was not the first time that law enforcement was sent into a religious community and serious loss of life ensued. But it was the first time that the agents of the government started the violence. And they started it when there was no threat or provocation from the victims. I want to begin by asking you—by what law does the administration justify such barbaric, one-sided action?”
I take a deep breath. There is that sour taste low in my throat that stress always brings. But it’s my job to deflect such criticism and protect the President as much as I can. Already some of the right-wing members of Congress were calling for impeachment hearings.
I try for a look of sympathy and say, “Well, Senator, here we are in agreement—this was indeed a tragic and unnecessary loss of life. The President, as you know, declared a day of mourning for the victims, and we all join you in the struggle to come to terms with the death of these families and the injuries many other sustained.
“Where we respectfully disagree, Senator, is who bears the responsibility for the deaths and injuries. The government publicly announced its intentions. We gave Pastor Woodbury every opportunity to evacuate the telescope area. Help and transportation was standing by just beyond the perimeter of his compound.
“We contacted the Pastor and his people in every way we knew how to get him to call off the transmission of that message. We tried to serve him with the papers Judge Santos issued earlier in the week, enjoining him from sending the message until a hearing could be held, but he would not allow anyone to serve that judgment or even enter his compound.”
“Why should he, given how much he feared for his safety? And knowing that the Compound was surrounded by government agents trying to stop him from doing his righteous work?”
“Senator, we can disagree about how righteous that work was. But a federal judge had issued a ruling…”
“In a proceeding that the Pastor considered …um… a trampling of his First Amendment rights by a leftist judge. A proceeding he rightly boycotted.”
Hayes steps in at this point, “Senator, your time has expired. I now recognize Senator Stackhouse for questions.”
And I breathe a sigh of relief.
***
At first, everyone had assumed that other religious leaders or public pressures would talk Woodbury down from acting alone. But this underestimated the religious passion stirred up by his view of the Cygnan message—both within his own mind and in the ranks of his followers. It became clearer and clearer that Woodbury felt he owed nothing to any established authority.
Meanwhile, scientists around the world were organizing conferences on the meaning of the transmission from space and how we should respond to it. The majority of scientists seemed to think that humanity might eventually respond to the call for cosmic conversation but felt that we had to think a lot more about it before we did.
At the diplomatic level, there were calls for the U.N. to organize international meetings to gauge the world’s response. But there was no rush. As the President’s Science Advisor told us, the universe was in no hurry to hear from us—it had gotten along fine without our opinions for 14 billion years!
Our advisors felt that extensive international consultations and discussions should take place, so that all dangers of revealing ourselves could be openly weighed. Then a reply that represented all the countries and interests of Planet Earth could be carefully put together. Scientists and politicians were uniformly appalled at the notion that Woodbury would simply take on himself the responsibility to answer for the whole world.
As Woodbury’s intentions became clearer, scientific groups, religious leaders from other faiths, and the governments of countries that still had bandwidth for these kinds of issues, began to appeal to the Perkins administration to do something about his project—which, after all, was happening on American soil. Through some of the Southern members of the House with connections to O.C.O.G., we approached Woodbury’s people to set up a back channel of communication.
Was there a way that Woodbury would delay sending a message until the results of the international discussions were ready and could be weighed by governmental bodies and academic groups around the world? No, the answer came back, he would not.
What if a court were to order O.C.O.G. to delay? That would save face for Woodbury, taking the decision out of his hands. Nothing doing, we heard back. Woodbury did not recognize the authority of any governmental court when he was doing God’s work.
Woodbury, and the prestigious law firm he soon hired, told us in no uncertain terms that O.C.O.G. felt it had both freedom of speech rights and freedom of religion rights in this situation and would assert both of them if the government made any attempt to interfere.
To our working group in the White House, trying to fit an 18th century Constitution into this late 21st century situation was just ludicrous. In terms of legal precedent, many court cases confirmed that people’s individual rights were limited when they impinged on the common welfare or the safety of their communities. Still, comparisons to what had happened during the religious showdown at Waco, Texas in the last century were on everyone’s mind when the President asked us for contingency plans.
***
Senator Margaret Stackhouse, who is a good friend of the administration and was considered by Perkins for a Cabinet post, now takes over the questioning. Stackhouse’s kindly face is backed up by a powerful intellect. She was captain of every debate team she joined and still relishes nothing as much as a spirited debate.
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Landsman, that even at the last minute, when all negotiations with Pastor Woodbury had failed, the President gave him extra time to remove his people from the telescope compound and avoid any injuries?”
I’m grateful to be guided in this direction. “Yes, Senator, on the day before Pastor Woodbury was holding his message inauguration ceremony, we were able to set up a secure line to his associate pastor in the compound. We explained again exactly what we proposed to do. And we asked for his help in getting all their people out of the immediate vicinity of the dish—to clear out the zone where the drones would drop their load. We called many hours before our action would begin, to give them enough time to get everyone out.”
“And what was the reaction of the Pastor’s people?”
“They told us that they would never evacuate the dish or control room area, that they had asked the most devout of their people to sit right next to the telescope with their families to shame the government, and that they would send the message no matter what.”
“And what did they in fact do?”
I hesitate to wade into these details, given the bombing’s aftermath. But I need to put our side out clearly. “Senator, after our call, Pastor Woodbury encouraged two more families with young children to move closer to the telescope.
“So what did you wind up having to do?” Stackhouse gently asks.
“Senator, Pastor Woodbury had announced very publicly that he would begin sending his message toward Cygnus at noon. Our strike force was ready to destroy the telescope a half hour before that with pinpoint bombing, trying to do as little damage to the surrounding area as possible. All our suggestions for avoiding injuries had been rebuffed. The President was cloistered early that morning with his own pastor. He came to our Senior Staff Meeting right from those sessions.
“Our team had tried everything we could think of to get Woodbury’s people to safety. Earlier in the week, we had sent a helicopter overhead with leaflets, describing our bombing plans and their timing. That was to make sure Woodbury was not withholding information from his own people. We had dropped parachute packs of pre-paid cell phones into the compound, so that any of his people who wanted to contact the outside world had the means to do so. We had asked family members of the people inside the compound to call them and urge them to get to safety. A few people did leave the compound during the night and early in the morning. But most stayed.
“So we had to tell the President that any action to damage or destroy the telescope was going to involve civilian casualties. Pastor Woodbury’s people at the edge of the compound were armed to the teeth with military-style automatic rifles and grenades. They could inflict terrible harm on any troops we might send in to clear the telescope area. And the FBI was telling us that any kind of disabling gas might not incapacitate the engineers in the sealed-off control room. Besides, gas would have just knocked the families near the telescope unconscious, it wouldn’t have moved any of them to a safe distance.
“Remote bombing was our only option, but it would require us to put the families clustering around the telescope in harm’s way. It was one of the hardest messages I’ve had to deliver in my political career. None of us had slept much the night before, and the President looked so careworn, I just wanted to…”
Stackhouse coughs and says quietly, “Perhaps a little more about what happened at the compound?”
I take another deep breath and continue, “Yes, well, Senator, we all know what happened after that. Having exhausted all our options to clear the area, seeing the time of Pastor Woodbury’s message rapidly approaching, the President had to act—was forced to act. He called for the minimum possible level of pin-point bombing just so that the telescope could be disabled or destroyed.”
Stackhouse says, “It sounds like the President had little choice in the matter, if he truly felt that sending the message was a danger to the country and the world.”
I look at her gratefully. “Yes, Senator, that was our assessment, based on all the advice we had received from the military, the Cabinet, and the science team. We all wished there could have been another way.”
“As did we all, Mr. Landsman, as did we all. And tell me, did the destruction of the big radio dish in fact prevent his message from being sent to the Cygnans?”
“Yes, Senator, the telescope was beyond repair, as the news reports made only too clear. Since it was destroyed before the scheduled transmission, it could not send out the Pastor’s message. It was a terrible price to pay, but the Pastor had made all the other options untenable.
“Oh, and I should add that the administration has endorsed the efforts of the International Academy of Astronautics to set up a series of meetings and conferences where the questions raised by Pastor Woodbury’s action can be discussed. We would still like to have a wide-ranging discussion among all the people of the world about whether or not humanity should reply to the Cygnans, and, if so, what we should say.”
Stackhouse says, “Thank you. I think it’s clear that the Administration is not closing off the possibility of answering someday. It was only Pastor Woodbury’s hasty and one-sided message that they were trying to prevent. I know I am in the minority on this committee, but it sounds to me like we should have Pastor Woodbury answering our questions, and not Mr. Landsman.”
Chairman Hayes breaks in, “Now, my distinguished colleague from Massachusetts knows that we have long ago finalized the witness list for this hearing.”
Stackhouse glares at him and then says mildly, “Well, yes, Mr. Chairman, I know the majority agreed on that list, but I must again protest the exclusion of everyone from the O.C.O.G. leadership from it.”
Hayes smiles and says, “Your protest is duly noted. Are you finished questioning this witness?”
Stackhouse is about to reply when a dozen wrist-phones and pager strips start beeping and buzzing, both among staff members behind the Senators and in the media gallery. Heads turn, as people around the room grab phones and tablets they had silenced. Carole, my counsel, pulls her purse from under the witness table and fiddles with her phone. She begins to read and then whispers, “Oh no…”
By this time, most of the Senators have turned to aides sitting behind them. Many have been handed a device and are looking at the news. Others have aides whispering in their ear. I look at Carole’s screen as the story scrolls.
The East Coast Times has an exclusive news bulletin from Belarus. The Times is one of the few remaining media organizations with resources to cover the news in less well-traveled parts of the world.
Quietly, without telling anyone, the O.C.O.G. leadership had taken out some extra insurance that their “God-given mission” would be a success. Through local intermediaries and a few well-placed bribes, they had purchased a working radio telescope that had been mothballed by a scientific institute in Belarus. Some of the staff who had been laid off were still in the area and happy to be paid in American money for returning to their posts.
The telescope was not only refurbished, but upgraded, and new equipment was bought second and third hand through European intermediaries. The facility had been fenced in to begin with, and the staff set up an even tighter perimeter, where only authorized personnel could pass. In that part of the world, secret bases, where the public was not welcome, were not unusual.
With no fuss or publicity, that telescope had been sending the O.C.O.G. message in the direction of the Cygnans for two entire months—starting two weeks before the confrontation at their U.S. compound. The message is still being sent today, the reporters found. Pastor Woodbury’s message was out there, moving irrevocably, at the speed of light, into the realm of the stars.
Senator Babcock has the gleam of triumph in his eyes and is the first to speak up. “Mr. Chairman. Mr. Chairman, given the news we are all reading, it seems to me that our hearings take on an entirely new perspective. Not only was this terrible loss of life a violation of our most fundamental American principles, but, Mr. Chairman, it turns out this administration has spilled American blood for nothing. For nothing, Mr. Landsman, did those poor families die in New Mexico. For shame, sir, for shame.”
I find myself speechless for the moment. Chairman Hayes finds his voice first, “Well, just a moment. We should perhaps fill in those watching us on the Omniweb with what we have just learned. Apparently, a telescope in Belarus has been secretly sending the Pastor’s message in the direction of Cygnus for two months. In view of this, I think we should suspend these hearings until we have a better understanding of the situation.” And his gavel comes down before anyone else can say anything.
***
Back in the limo, I pick up the secure line to the White House and check in with Maria Concannon, our Chief of Staff. She and the President are as surprised by the Times story as everyone was in the hearing room. Neither the CIA nor any friendly security service had sniffed out the second telescope and message project.
To her mind, this makes Woodbury even more responsible for the disastrous loss of life in New Mexico. But, viewing the situation from the pastor’s perspective, the trick makes a twisted kind of sense. With the fate of sinful humanity hanging in the balance, the important thing for the Pastor was getting the message out. What was the death of a few believers compared to the guaranteed transmittal of the message?
I ask the driver to take the long way around to give me time to think. All those days of my feeling impotent, not able to give the President a decent choice. All that agonizing, all those hours of debate, with the senior staff feeling torn between two evils… it was, as Babcock said, all for nothing. The bastard had us fooled the whole time, with the real action happening far from the compound on which he had everyone’s attention focused.
As I sit back, bone tired, I wonder where humanity will stand with the reconstruction of Earth’s climate by the time we get the Cygnans’ answer—if there is an answer. Would the Perkins Climate Protocols do any good? How many lives would be lost to storms, droughts, floods, and the spread of new diseases? Would there still be a U.S. government to worry about it? Might the O.C.O.G. folks, or someone like them, be leading a deeply religious country by then, sliding ever more quickly toward a new dark age?
I remember one of the things that the Science Advisor had told the President and the senior staff in her briefings. If the Cygnan message was beaming in a wide circle around their star, we might not be the only civilization that eventually receives their message and then answers. Maybe the Cygnans will prefer to talk to a civilization that has evolved beyond trying to involve their neighbors in their religion.
Andrew Fraknoi is a retired astronomer and college professor. He is the lead author of the free, online book Astronomy, published by the nonprofit OpenStax project, which has become the most frequently-used introductory astronomy textbook in North America. This is his twelfth published science-fiction story. Fraknoi has a strong interest in the possibility of other life in the universe, and serves on the Board of Directors of the SETI Institute, a nonprofit scientific and educational organization, as well as the international SETI Post-detection Hub at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. He was selected California Professor of the Year in 2007 and has won the Faraday Prize for science popularization. The International Astronomical Union has named Asteroid 4859 Asteroid Fraknoi, in recognition of his contributions to the public understanding of science. For more on his educational work and fiction, please see: https://fraknoi.com