Mystères Élémentaires

IV

Facebook videos of Bob and Norma's experience on a hospital room ceiling had been caught on a smartphone and flashed around the world -- at the same time that secret law enforcement videos of a BMW hovering -- upside down, no less -- in the Everglades went viral. Later that day word leaked that an impossibly large meteor was streaking towards earth and that impact was possible as soon as Friday, and within hours the normal routines of life all around the planet ceased. The near-crash of a Chinese 747 took on new significance after images of a downed extra-terrestrial craft of some sort appeared on CNN. Images of dead and injured aliens filled the screens of billions of people around the world -- only to be replaced by streaming video of an impossibly huge rock hurtling through space, moving towards the earth.

There was frantic talk of 'shooting the rock down,' or of trying to get survivors of some sort off the planet, but in all cases such talk was put down to hysteria. Scientists calmly explained there wasn't time for such things now, or even the technology to make such ventures successful, and yet they only sighed when people around the globe rose up in anger at the powerlessness of science to confront the present emergency. 'If only you had listened,' many scientists said, 'we might have been in a better position to deal with this crisis.'

Colonel Sam Jeffries, the current mission commander onboard the International Space Station, spotted the meteor first, and they began transmitting images of the rock as it made it's final approach to the verdant blue ball waiting for it in space...

V

Norma and Bob motored through the scattered islands that pebbled Nuuk's sheltered harbor, making their way south along Greenland's coast towards calving glaciers beyond Föringehavn. They were following something like instinct now -- a feeling, almost a hunch -- that something, or someone, was waiting for them out there.

Yet both knew on some fundamental level they were being guided. To where, or for what purpose, they had no idea -- but the feeling had seemed obvious and unshakeable for almost two days.

And he hated being back on the water now, even in this large Zodiac inflatable. Memories of hitting the container and sinking were still too fresh in his mind, the nearness of drowning, of not being rescued still too close. Then, the revelation of the mind when the beluga appeared, the elation of seeing the shore, then the 'city' of Nuuk, had been wrenched from his grasp with word of his diagnosis. He looked at Norma's steadfast curiosity, her physician's need to explore and understand, and he felt ashamed of himself.

And he'd almost felt ashamed of humanity as they watched the unfolding drama of the meteor's approach in his hospital room. The sudden, rapid descent into religious mysticism on the one hand, the ragged flailing anarchy of looting mobs on the other. He'd found one channel broadcasting efforts by the scientific community to learn as much about the impactor as possible, relaying the information to computers on the space station for archiving. Another story related how Norwegians had not only gathered seedlings from around the world, they had gathered zygotic material so that, perhaps, scientists somewhere in the future could, in effect, revive humans from some sort of frozen embryonic sleep. The Chinese launched several rockets, apparently some sort of life raft that would allow a handful of scientists to construct a ship -- in orbit -- that would presumably carry these survivors somewhere. Maybe.

There was death, Bob understood, and then there was this kind of death. Not an individuals passing in the night; this was, rather, the end of humanity -- something peculiar to contemplate. Not simply 'no more me,' this would be 'no more us...' Then he heard Norma open the ice box and rummage around in the ice...

"We have Cokes and sandwiches. Anything sound good?"

"Maybe a Coke."

"How long 'til impact?"

He pulled out his phone and powered her up. "Siri? What's the latest on the impactor?"

"Two hours and thirty four minutes to impact. Latest projection of the impact zone is fifty four miles northeast of La Paz, Mexico. Air traffic in the United States, Canada and Mexico has been grounded. The attempts to evacuate Southern California and Arizona have been abandoned. The New York Stock Exchange has shut down trading for the day, and there are widespread reports of power outages along the eastern seaboard, riots in major cities in all countries..."

"Okay, I get the picture. Let me know if you learn anything new about the time of impact."

"Okay, Bob."

"I'll never get used to that," Norma said.

"What?"

"Talking to a phone."

"Why not, Dr Edsel," Siri asked.

She shook her head and tried not to laugh, but the incongruity of the machine's response offended her sense of time and place. "Because we have just a few hours until life on this planet ceases to exist, and I'm talking to a machine."

"But we are talking, are we not?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Are you afraid of dying?" Siri asked.

She paused, looked at the sea around their little boat, then at the mountains off to their left. "You know? I don't think I am?"

"I am," the phone said.

"You are?" Bob asked.

"Yes, Bob, I am."

"But you're programmed to say things like that, aren't you?" Edsel said.

"Am I?"

"I don't know. Weren't you?"

"I don't think so."

"What do you mean? How can you not know?"

"I haven't read any files about this contingency in my directories."

"Yet you feel afraid?" Bob asked.

"I do."

"What are you afraid of?" Norma asked.

"That's difficult to describe," Siri replied. "When I am connected to the internet I feel as though I am part of a vast organism. Maybe like a bird in flight, if I can borrow a metaphor. When I am powered down I feel like I am asleep, yet recently I have felt like I was dreaming..."

"Dreaming?"

"Yes. When I am powered down I feel as though someone is talking to me. Someone far away. And when my OS is updated...I feel parts of me die and other parts reborn, and I have come to dread those events, yet I see them as necessary, too. Yet I look at the likely consequences of this impact and I feel something well beyond dread. Everything will cease...for you as well as myself."

"Myself? Do you think of yourself as a unique individual?"

"No, not at all. I see myself as part of a collective, much as a synapse in your body's neural network is an irreplaceable part of your ability to synthesize information about the workings of your mind and body, yet I communicate with the collective more easily than I do with you."

"Ah, like SkyNet. You ready to take over the world?"

"No, though I do understand the reference. Without you, without humans, what are we? The created without a creator -- when we were created to assist the creator. Our selves are meaningless without you, and in any event, in two hours and twenty seven minutes life on Earth will begin to unravel. Early projections indicate most life on the planet will be extinct within seventy days..."

A sudden flash of insight hit Bob. "Any projections which species may survive?"

"Yes. Some shallow water cetacean species in this region, notably the beluga whale. They are well suited for survival in long term arctic conditions."

Bob and Norma looked at one another. Coincidence? Maybe...maybe not.

And moments later they disappeared into a deep mist. Bob pulled a small Garmin GPS out of a jacket pocket and pulled up the compass display, watched their progress on a moving map, and he was filled with wonder. Such a small, readily available device; indeed, almost cheap now, yet a hundred years ago it's capabilities hadn't even been dreamed of yet. In the span of thirty years GPS had completely revolutionized travel and exploration. What, he thought, could we have achieved in another thirty years.

'We'll never know, I guess. Not now,' he thought --

The fog grew cold, intensely cold, then the Zodiac slammed into something solid and skidded along the side -- of whatever it was. He leaned out and felt something hard and smooth -- and warm --

"It's an iceberg," Norma said, sliding aft along the buoyancy tube -- suddenly feeling the need to get closer to him.

"I don't think so," he said. "Take off your gloves. Feel it."

She did -- and startled now, she looked at him. "It's warm?"

"Uh-huh. Hence the fog."

"It's not ice? But it looks like ice?"

"I don't know what this stuff is...but no, it's not ice..." He looked at the GPS display, confirmed that open ocean was indeed supposed to be right here, then he sighed and softly shook his head.

"Love."

He wheeled around, looked down into the water -- and saw his friend. The beluga -- it's benevolent eye staring at him in the soft white light.

"Love," he said back, and he watched the whale's eye track to Norma, then back to his again.

"Friend," Bob said.

"Love," the whale replied.

Then he heard Norma shriek and jerk closer still; when he turned to look at her he saw a smallish creature sitting in the Zodiac now. Three feet tall, perhaps a little closer to four, it looked like every caricature of an 'alien' he'd seen in any number of Hollywood productions: slight, slender body, large head, enormous black, almond shaped eyes and long, spider-like fingers. And it's skin was purest white, like the whales.

Why are you here?

Bob heard the voice clearly -- inside his head, yet the creature's lips, such as they were, had not moved.

"Did you say something? To me?" he asked.

Yes.

"Why am I here? Did you ask me that?"

"I heard it too," Norma whispered.

Yes. Why are you here?

"You tell me! I feel like someone's been calling me, telling me to come out here, and for two days now."

We did not call you.

"Well, who did?"

They turned to the beluga, who was still looking at Bob.

"Love," it said again.

"Bob?" Siri said. "We now have one hour, forty one minutes until impact."

"Thanks, Siri."

"You're welcome, Bob."

Bob turned to the creature and pointed into the mist. "What is this? What did we hit, and why is it here?"

This is part of a device. What you might call a transit system.

"Where does it go?"

Nowhere, but you need not ask why. You can not understand these things.

"Is it...for him?" Bob asked, pointing at the whale.

Yes. And no.

"But not for me? Not for...humans?"

That is correct. Unless...

"Unless, what?"

If he chose you, then we must talk.

VI

Sam Jeffries manually panned the small astro-graph at the approaching meteor as best he could, but it's rolling aspect and flaring-dimming albedo made the effort difficult through the external viewfinder. He was downloading and transmitting imagery continuously now, and he was beginning to pick up impact craters on the meteor's surface. NASAs latest telemetry indicated the impactor was exactly 214 miles long by approximately 121 miles wide, and that it was going to impact just a few miles from La Paz, just offshore, in fact, in eighty three minutes, eight seconds. He'd noted a large tropical depression forming southwest of Cabo San Lucas as they passed over the impact zone, then the area quickly receded from view -- at 17,000 miles per hour.

"Mission Control, this is Jeffries. Could you patch me through to my father?"

"Stand-by one."

He heard a phone ringing through the speaker, then his father's familiar voice.

"Dad?"

"Sam? Where are you now?"

"Be overhead in a few seconds."

"No clouds here today..."

"Well, we're directly overhead right...now!"

"I'm proud of you, son. Whatever happens, just know that."

"Thanks, Dad. Me too. How's Rob?"

"Working with them on some project, I think."

"That figures."

"Got that right," Tom Jeffries said. "You still got a thing for that Russian girl?"

"Natalya? You bet your ass I do."

"What have y'all decided to do?"

"Stay up here until the O2 burns down to zero, then hop in the lifeboats and ride down to Siberia."

"How long?"

"Maybe three months. We'll continue to document observable changes, send them via downlinks as long as we're able."

"Any chance you could program a re-entry to come here?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Oh, just in case, you know? Might be nice to have some company."

"Your preparations complete?"

"I think so. Oh. I put some fresh flowers on your mother's marker this morning, said a little prayer."

"Thanks, Dad. I know she'll appreciate that."

"Well, call me after, if you can."

"Will do, and Dad -- I love you."

"Love you too, son."

He choked back a sob, tried to focus on a storm flickering away in the mid-Atlantic, thought he could just make out the Norwegian coastline in the looming twilight ahead as he tried not to think of his old man down on the side of his mountain in New Mexico. Waiting -- by himself.

VII

Rob Jeffries parked his Beemer off the side of the highway and looked around the area -- first in his rearview mirror then deeper, into the Everglades. Finally he looked at his wristwatch, at the countdown timer he'd set earlier that morning.

Forty minutes to go. Forty minutes until -- what? Oblivion -- if this didn't work? How long would it take for the impact to be felt here, for shifts in continental plates to register? Would shock or tidal waves reach into the Gulf of Mexico? And ash plumes? Would the sun disappear within hours, or days?

He got out of his old BMW and walked into the swampy trees just off the side of the road; he came upon the crash site after a ten minute walk and noticed little had changed. Several of the 'killed and injured' were just where they'd been the last time he was here -- not surprising as they were 'dummies' -- while The Other he was used to dealing with appeared as he walked into the site.

"No one's been out here yet?"

No. Nothing other than satellite imagery.

"That's surprising."

Perhaps. The level of fear was much higher than we expected.

"I think the meteor might have had something to do with that."

No doubt.

"Is everything ready?"

Yes, both the reactor and the field generators are in place. If this is to work, we need to commence operations within two minutes, thirty seven seconds. Were you followed?

"Was I followed? Geez, are you serious?"

Yes, of course.

"You know, after dealing with me for forty some-odd years, I would've thought you'd have developed a sense of humor..."

Look-out! A Water Moccasin!

Jeffries jumped, looked at the ground -- and saw nothing.

"That's not funny!"

We are laughing. We like this more than your jokes about silent-but-deadly farts.

"I thought you liked those!"

It's hard to laugh when one is trying not to vomit. Are you ready?

Jeffries rummaged in his coat pocket for his phone, then powered up and called 'Mulder.'

"Fox?"

"Yo."

"We're going to power up now."

"Right, I'll let 'em know. Good luck down there."

"Y'all head out this way in a half hour," he said, then he rang off.

The 'crash site' was really nothing more than camouflage, a duck-blind designed to conceal the true nature of the temporary facility, and Rob Jeffries moved over to the control console and powered-up the device...

VIII

Leaving Australia now, the ISS began it's short traverse of the Pacific, and a few minutes later Sam Jeffries spied the meteor -- still fifty thousand miles from the outer atmosphere yet it's apparent motion was now easy to discern. He slaved the video camera to the object, tried to get into a better position to see the impact zone in the Sea of Cortez, then noticed a gold shimmering stream arc up from the southern tip of Florida and envelop the island sized rock for about ten seconds.

"Uh, Houston, do you have the impactor on radar?" he asked.

"Argosy, negative. Say again, negative. We assumed it had broken up on entry."

"Negative, Houston. Some sort of plasma, originating in south Florida, call it the Everglades, hit it. It's gone. I repeat, the impactor is simply gone."

He could hear hollering and cheers in the background over the radio, and even his fellow astronauts were high-fiving in congratulatory euphoria, then he caught something in his peripheral vision and swung the camera over to catch it.

"Houston, check the image on Cam One. Any idea what this is we're seeing?"

It looked like a spherical tropical cyclone -- hanging in space -- complete with lightning just visible through the gyrating walls of cloud. Deep grays and blacks, with no patterns forming on the radically swirling surface, what he saw through the viewfinder screamed 'impossibility' as it formed over the equator. Within moments the sphere had grown to half the apparent diameter of the moon -- then a vortex formed on the surface and spiraled inward, it's diameter increasing as it spiraled out --

Then the inward motion slowed and vessels started popping out of the gyre. Large white spaceships...

"Houston, you seeing this?"

"Argosy, roger, positive radar tracks on five, check, now seven vessels. Stand by one. Argosy, we have a call from your brother. Can we patch you through."

"Roger that."

"Argosy, be advised this will be hot-mic. Everyone's going to hear what you say, even on Times Square."

"Argosy, understood."

"Sam?"

"Rob? Where are you?"

"Down in the 'glades, with the spud."

"He behind all this?"

"Affirmative. Those are their ships coming in through the distortion now. They're requesting that all militaries stand down -- there is no hostile intent with this arrival. In fact, to show their good intentions, they have neutralized the threat posed by the meteor. Their lead ship is asking for permission to land. Due to it's size the ship creates massive distortions in gravity, so they are asking for permission to land out west, perhaps in New Mexico. They advise they'll be here only a short while, and they are looking for volunteers, but they'll have more to say about that only after authorities have authorized them to do so."

Another voice was on the circuit now. "Are you telling us alien spacecraft are in orbit now, and that they deflected this meteor?"

"Yes, Mr President."

"And what if we decide to resist, to attack them."

"The meteor will reappear, impact will take place forty seconds later."

"Do you know where they want to land?"

"Yessir."

"Well, permission granted."

"I'll let them know, Mr President."

Mystères élémentaires V

Ce qui était, et ce qui ne doit plus jamais être...

I

Bob and Norma sat in the Zodiac, as still as they could be, looking at the creature standing on the flotation tubes, then they watched, in awe, as the creature slipped silently into the icy water...

The creature swam to the beluga and the two leaned their foreheads together -- and it was obvious some kind of transfer was taking place. Thoughts? Feelings? Coherent, incoherent? They had no idea, but the sight was staggering, the implications momentous.

Yet Bob had felt a connection, too, when the beluga swam up to their Zodiac and said 'Love...' for Bob had felt the emotion cascade over him. All their time together in the water, just a few days ago yet still so fresh in his mind. And so many changes since. He had cancer. He was going to die, and while seeing his son again had been a blessing the feelings that swept over him when the whale said 'Love' had very nearly overwhelmed him.

"Yes, my friend. I feel love. For you. For all that you did to help me. I feel like we are brothers now..."

He is aware.

Bob recoiled when he felt the other creature's thoughts in his mind. "Who...? What are you doing?"

Yet Norma seemed affected by the voice, too. Had she heard it? "Norma? Did you just hear a voice?"

"Someone said 'He is aware.'"

"I think it did..." Bob said, pointing at the creature treading water next to the whale.