THE GREAT RESET

THE GREAT RESET

The room, in the bowels of the Pentagon, was gigantic in size; a huge circular, conference table that hosted forty, being the central focus. Sat around in a semi-circle on one side were twenty of the most powerful men on Planet Earth. Facing them, and completing the circle, were the extra terrestrial beings from Gliese 667Cc, the exoplanet, 22 light years from Earth. The sole distinguishable characteristic between the two parties: the light, green tinge to the skin of the Gliesians who, in all other appearances, resembled the humans. A US spokesperson for the earthlings opened the conference.

“On behalf of our planet, we welcome our eminent guests to this, the 3rd EG2 summit since you first made contact and arrived here, seven years ago. Tremendous strides have been accomplished on both sides since we formed our alliance and agreed to open our vaults and share our respective knowledge. This day also marks the 3rd anniversary, in Earth years, since your trial colony of 1,000 Gliesians arrived here and our 1,000 earthlings traveled to Gliese 667Cc in an historic exchange for our galaxy...”

This speech of welcome was rudely interrupted as the head of the extra terrestrials, none other than the ruler and President of the planet, himself, Ashatar, turned to the interpreter on his right and addressed a question. The interpreter spoke in perfect English:

“Our President asks: “where is your President?”

The US spokesman turned, confusedly, to the man sitting at the head of his delegation and there was

a moment of embarrassing silence before the man, himself, answered.

“Mr. President, it was not felt...uh...necessary for President Bidder to be in attendance today. The men you see assembled here represent the most powerful and the most tech savvy of our collective nations and I, Harry Pink, CEO of Blackgranite, feel honoured to have been asked to head this commission. You may address any questions, intended for President Bidder, to me directly as his de facto exemplar”.

Pink had spoken with his accustomed authority and, when finished, sat back in his plush chair, a smug look on his face but Ashatar did not seem pleased by this explanation, whispered to him by his interpreter. However, he signalled for the spokesman to continue his speech which, for the most part, covered the story of how NASA scientists, having identified Gliese 667Cc, in the constellation of Scorpius, as the key planet, out of all 4,000 exoplanets in existence, most suitable for human habitation, due to its orbiting of its star, atmospheric conditions and water in liquid form, had been emitting signals through space for several years before, stunningly, receiving a response eight years previously. After many months of translational difficulties with the most elite of cryptographers being engaged in breaking down the Gliesian speech and compiling an English/Gliesian dictionary, NASA had succeeded in arranging a visit by the extra terrestials, they possessing the technology that the earthlings did not; the ability to commute 22 light years or 223.5 trillion kilometres in just a few months.

As the spokesman was making his speech, the giant circular screen, set into the middle of the conference table , was displaying images of everything he described, culminating in the decision, three years previously, for each planet to send a first fleet of 1,000 brave volunteers, drawn from all sections of their populations, to establish colonies that would study their respective languages and customs and, hopefully, integrate, becoming useful pioneers for future generations.

The pictures being shown of this historical exchange depicted the smiling, excited faces of the earthlings as they boarded the various crafts supplied by the Gliesians and embarking on their epic voyage, followed by images of the arrival of the Gliesian citizens in exchange from Super Earth, the name the media had simplistically given to Gliese 667Cc and which had been quickly adopted by the population of Earth. This, the 3rd EG2 summit, had been arranged in order to evaluate the success of these missions.

It was a delegate from Super Earth who made the first report.

“As you are aware, our planet is 4.5 times the size of Earth and we have much spare land suitable for habitation. We complete a circuit of our star, a red dwarf in your language, in 28 days, so our median climate is much cooler than yours. One half of our planet faces our star, Gliese 667C, permanently, meaning constant light. The other half is in permanent darkness. In between both, we have an area we call the Terminator Line and it is here that we felt would be most suited for your colony to settle”.

Images showed humans, able to breathe normally, wearing the clothes they had brought with them from Earth, walking around in pleasant sunlight alternating with darkened hours, much the same as on Earth. They all seemed happy and content.

“We have been able to integrate 70% of the earthlings in occupations that vary according to their abilities. For this, they receive payment equivalent to food, clothing and shelter. On our planet, there is no monetary system but there is also no want; everybody is cared for equally. The other 30% constitute women and children. We believe all are happy and, so far, nobody has requested, as per the provisions, to be returned to their origins. Their homes are typical of those on our planet”.

Pictures showed sleek, futuristic looking dwellings that had every mod con one could wish for.

“Thank you. Doctor Andrew Fanchi will now report on behalf of Earth”.

A diminutive, bespectacled man acknowledged his introduction and began to speak.

“We identified an area in Brooklyn, formerly used for dockland and warehouses, on the East River as being suitable to house your people. We...”

“Ghetto!”

The interpreter had spoken.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The President says: ‘Ghetto’.”

Harry Fink, who had been busy messaging on his cell and barely paying attention, sat up abruptly and responded.

“Now, look here. I refute the suggestion that this area is considered a ghetto. Do you have any idea what that piece of real estate is worth? It’s New York! On the water! ...”

“Very poor housing”.

“Naturally, in the brief amount of time available, it was not possible to construct elite housing for 1,000, uh, space...uh Gliesians, but I believe that, under the circumstances...”

“Cold in winter, leaks, bad sanitary conditions, rats...”

“Just a goddamned minute! “

“Fencing. Security guards...”

“I would not describe the cordon as fencing. Yes, there are security guards but they are there to protect your people. To keep others out”.

“Fifty of our people murdered”.

“It’s New York, for God’s sake. One must expect...uh..incidents when you introduce different cultures. Naturally, people are suspicious, fearful, but I can assure you that the New York police are doing everything in their power to investig...”

“A further 200 dead from drug overdoses”.

“It is not 200, No way”.

Pink conferred with Fanchi.

“Okay, it is 200 but, you see, this is why we have imposed the cordon, to keep these drug dealers out. Do you mean to tell me that none of our...uh...guinea pigs...I mean, first fleet, have suffered fatalities? Come on”.

The interpreter consulted his President before answering.

“No deaths. President asks why 20 of our people were used for experimentation purposes”.

Looking perplexed, Pink conferred, once again, with Fanchi.

“I’m reliably informed that they volunteered. They received payment for agreeing to clinical trials. We believe in free will on this planet. If somebody wants to earn...”

“10 died from the after effects of the pharmaceuticals they were given. The other 10 died after spending their payments on illegal drugs”.

Exasperated, Pink, took a deep breath to compose himself before speaking. He was a man unused to being accused or even questioned.

“Now, I understand that, to all intents and purposes, there have been a few...uh... hiccups in our relationship and I promise you that I will, personally, take steps to rectify...”

“President says you use the word “I” too much. Asks, have you, Mr. I, visited this location, personally?”

The screen displayed images of President Ashatar of Super Earth, visiting, co-mingling, laughing and joking with the colonists from Earth. The pictures changed to the Brooklyn colony where the freezing wind was sweeping in off the East River as shivering Gliesians hurried between drab, grey, poorly constructed buildings. They were shown smoking cigarettes, drinking from bottles in paper bags, eating junk food, all looking miserable. His face growing steadily redder with the effrontery of these aliens, Pink responded.

“I am an extremely busy man. My companies are valued at 10 trillion, for God’s sake. Have I been to Brooklyn? No! But, with respect, we are losing track of the real purpose for this summit; the issues that are more important than a few deaths here or there. Mr. President, three years ago, you promised that, once our relationship had evolved, you would share with us the technology involved in your ability to travel through deep space in so short a time, the advanced weaponry systems that you have developed, provide access to the huge deposits of gold that your planet has that are of no possible value to you...”

“Two of our men have expressed a wish to change gender”.

Pink’s fury was evident in the purple colour his face had become.

“As I said, this is the land of free will, free speech. People can be whatever goddamned sex they want. Everybody knows this whole woke thing is a sham anyway, just like Covid and climate change...”

Pink froze in mid-speech, realising that he might have said too much. All nineteen men in his delegation were staring at him, open mouthed.

The screen transmitted images, once again, of the Brooklyn colonists but, now, they were being herded into Gliesian space craft.

“We take all surviving brethren home. Some will require rehabilitation. We retain all human colonists; they will be the future of this planet, Earth”.

The Super Earthers rose as one, the circular screen now projecting images of hundreds of Gliesian war ships circling above the Karman Line. Ashatar, turned and spoke to the startled gathering of humans, staring, horrified, at the screen and the alien threat that hovered above the planet.

“Yes, I can speak your tongue. Can a single one of you say the same about my language? Your rule is corrupt. On our planet, the President does not take instructions from anybody, no matter how wealthy or powerful. Our President rules. In precisely one hour, our ships will attack and your time of corrupt practises, will come to an end. This great planet, Earth, deserves a chance to start over. I will see that it gets that chance”.

The Super Earthers watched on pityingly as the delegates of Earth scrambled despairingly for the exit, kicking and punching as they climbed over each other in a pathetic, forlorn effort to save their own skins.