Scott Conner is now standing no more than eight feet away from the representative of an advanced alien civilization. What could he possibly think to say? As the moments pass he breaks the silence.
“If what you say is true…”
The Vice President breaks off, and pauses as he looks over his shoulder. He sees his own image alongside that of his alien counterpart projected across a quarter of the night sky, and a sudden realization grips his mind. He will be the first human being to not only communicate with an extraterrestrial intelligence, but will have an articulated conversation with this creature, and have it while the entire population of the world is watching. What should he say or ask? Does he try to represent the whole human race in this incredible dialogue? If not, what exactly is his role? These questions quickly flash through Scott Conner’s mind. He gathers his thoughts, and begins again.
“How can we know if what you say is true?”
“What we have shown you is consistent with data your own science acknowledges.”
“But what you’ve shown us is far more dramatic. You just told us that 99 percent of human population will die off, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. Do you expect us to accept that? How can we know if this is real?”
“Your skepticism is a common response. I’m sure your Doctors have examined Mr. Kearns. Why don’t you ask them, Mr. Conner, if what they’re seeing is real?”
“If…if what you say is true, why didn’t you appear earlier in our history to warn us, so we could avoid what you say is now inevitable? You’ve shown us these terrible things, and now you say it’s too late. How does that help us?”
“Only when a civilization is on the brink will our message resonate. Your species is willful and obstinate. Resistance to change is a general human trait. For you, only living this tragedy can teach you what you need to learn.”
“What you tell us is too bleak. If you know anything about us, you know we will never accept any situation that’s hopeless, either now or in the future.”
“The story we have told you is anything but hopeless. It’s a story of human survival.”
“But at what cost?” the Vice President asks.
“What price could be too high for survival, Mr. Conner? Not all civilizations are as fortunate. Those who fail to learn from their experience simply go extinct. Your planet’s biosphere is particularly robust. That and that alone will guarantee human survival.”
“This global disaster that’s coming…I still don’t understand. If this is true, then why don’t you help us prevent it?”
“Only you can walk out of your own darkness. Your questions are defensive, Mr. Conner. Why don’t you let your imagination express its curiosity? That might be helpful.”
“Because I’m more concerned about the death of billions of human beings, that is, if what you say is true.”
“Why do you fear death? Your own religions teach that it’s an illusion. Awaiting each one of you are millions of journeys. Your present human lifetime is only one of them. There is no finality in this, only an endless becoming. All speaks to the inner being.”
“You sound like one of our poets.”
“Maybe you should listen more closely to what they’re saying, Mr. Conner.”
“How is it that you can show us images of things that haven’t happened yet, that are still in the future?”
“An astute question, Mr. Conner. The images that you and the people of Earth were shown are based on predictive models.”
“What do you mean?”
“From the four million civilizations across the galaxy we have profiled from our general catalog, we extract their individual planetary histories. Our predictive models are based on this data.”
“Then you don’t know for sure if your prediction is certain or not.”
“Sunrise is only a prediction before it happens. Our models have an accuracy rate of 100 percent, Mr. Conner.”
“You say you’ve cataloged over four million civilizations. How do you know how to find them?”
“We permanently roam the galaxy listening for electronic communication, a universal signature of technical civilizations. We were forty-seven light years away when we detected that signal from Earth.”
“You say you permanently roam the galaxy. How can you possibly live long enough to make such a journey?”
“Living creatures could not endure the endless tedium of these long expeditions. Only automated representatives can make these epic journeys.”
“You mean machines.”
“Yes”
“Is that what you are?”