“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Appoint a single representative to speak for everybody? Maybe he’d like to see some flying elephants while we’re at it.”
I wandered out, had lunch, and wondered why I wasn’t as excited as I would have expected. Probably it was because I didn’t believe it was a genuine alien contact. It had to be a hoax. Or maybe we were misinterpreting the data.
Or maybe having the first alien contact come with something that was inside the solar system and was familiar with every major terrestrial language seemed more like a bad SF show written by people with no imagination.
I had just gotten back to the Center and was getting out of my car when Henry called again. “There’s another one,” he said. “It says: ‘If you can’t agree on an issue this simple—’” Janie was standing at the front door. She was jumping up and down, looking frantic.
“Hold on a minute, Henry.” She came running out toward me. “What’s wrong, Janie?”
“The White House is calling, Pete. I think they said the Vice President wants to talk to you.” She handed me a phone while I stared at her.
Then I answered. “Hello? This is Dr. Marshak. Who’s this, please?”
A female voice replied: “Dr. Marshak, I’m calling for Vice President Hoover. He’ll be with you in a moment.” Terry Hoover, with that last name, had been something of a joke at the beginning of the last presidential campaign. But he’d played through it, even turned it to his advantage, and now showed up regularly as one of the most trusted people in the country. Probably because he stood in such contrast to his boss.
“Marshak?” It was his voice, quiet, cool, in charge.
“Yes, Mr. Vice President. What can I do for you?”
“You heard the last message? The one that just came in?”
“I haven’t, Mr. Vice President. I was just about to—”
“It says that if we can’t agree on so simple a matter, that there’s little chance of our long-term survival. It’s referring to its request that we appoint a single representative.”
“I’d say it has a point, sir.”
“In lieu of our inability to comply, it’s notified us who our representative should be.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not inclined to joke around on a matter of this importance, Doctor.”
I was waiting for him to ask me a technical opinion. Like, did I really believe there might be somebody out in the Jovian system. “So who did it ask for?” I said. “The President?”
“You, Dr. Marshak. It asked for you specifically. By name.”
It dawned on me that was a remarkably astute request. Why not talk with the people who’ve been looking for you for the last half-century? Instead of one of the politicians? But of course I didn’t say that. “Why me?” I asked, with all due innocence.
“It makes no sense to me either, Doctor. But in any case, we want to get started. We’re preparing a list of questions which we’ll send to you shortly.”
“How will it know it’s talking to me?”
“We suspect it knows your voice. You’ve been interviewed often enough— Anyway, thanks for doing this. We’ll be getting back to you in a few minutes.”
“Okay.”
“What we’d like you to do is to engage Java in a conversation, to the extent you can.”
“Java? Has it identified itself?”
“J for Jupiter, Doctor. That’s its code name. So you’re aware, we’re consulting with people around the world. The President’s idea is to get everybody on board.”
“Including China?”
“He’s still thinking about that.”
“Any terrorists?” I intended it as a joke, but he took me seriously.
“Not per se, but we’ll be in touch with a couple of Middle Eastern organizations. So they can say they’ve been part of it. But take it slow. We’ll just begin with a couple of questions. Try to start a conversation with this thing. Then we’ll go from there.”
“Okay. Mr. Vice President, you’re aware that Jupiter is a long way from here. That an exchange, from the time we ask a question until we receive an answer, will be almost an hour.”
“I’m aware of that. It’s just as well. Gives us a chance to think about what we’re doing. Keep in mind, though: The questions come from us. No free-lancing. Understood?”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“We have no choice in the matter, Doctor Marshak. We don’t know what the dangers there may be. And one other thing, Pete— You don’t mind my using your first name?”
“Of course not.”
“One other thing: As far as the media are concerned, they’re your questions. Okay? I’m sure you understand why we have to play it this way.”
“All right, I understand.”
“Good. We’d like to get this started. If you will, assume you’ve just called the Jovian, and he picked up. Say hello and introduce yourself, and tell him how happy you are to meet him. Ask him how we can help him. We’re going to record it and send it on its way.”
A federal agent showed up later and escorted me to Travis Air Force Base, where I was taken to an office and turned over to a communication technician. He explained that the transmission had been sent and a response was expected, assuming one was actually coming, in about fifteen minutes. Margaret Commager joined us minutes later. Commager was a former beauty queen who now served as one of the President’s political advisors. “The whole world is listening, Dr. Marshak. Sorry about that. We’d have prevented it if we could, but unfortunately we had no way to do it.”
“It’s okay. No problem.”
“We’d like you to take it slow. One or two questions at a time.” She provided me with several pages of questions I should ask. Was I speaking with someone who lived in the Jovian system? Had he ever been to Earth? How did it happen he knows so much about us? Basically, Doctor, we want to see how this plays out so we don’t blunder into anything.”
The news media were already filled with people suggesting questions to be put to the Voice. The most common one: Are you God? Others included: Are you planning an invasion? What do you look like? How long have you been watching us? Where are you from?
We’d been there about a half hour before the comm tech signaled me about an incoming call. From Jupiter. He couldn’t resist smiling.
“Okay, Pete,” she said. “Take it.” We were on first name terms by then.
The bass voice spoke in English: “It is a pleasure to talk to you, Dr. Marshak,” it said. “I am what you would call an artificial intelligence. And yes, I am speaking to you from one of the moons of Jupiter. I believe the one you call Ganymede, though I have no way of confirming that.
“As to what I wish you can do for me, I would have thought that would be obvious. Stop the wars. Stop the killing. Learn to cooperate. Live by the Sixth Commandment.”
There was some disagreement about which was the sixth commandment. But it seemed unlikely the AI would be concerned about adultery. Thou shalt not commit murder.
“Goodbye, Dr. Marshak. It was good to speak with you.”
And that was it. No explanation of how an AI had gotten to Jupiter. Or what its intentions were. Or why it was intervening in human affairs. Or what it might do if shooting broke out on a large scale.
Commager’s forehead was creased. “Not very helpful, was it?”
“We’ll have to think more carefully about how we proceed.” I was checking off questions I thought we should be asking. Where are you from? Can we do anything for you? Why are you here?