Questions of Infinity

Stardate 01.07.2157 // 19:42

“We’re tracking it, but it’s not on a standard path. It keeps making adjustments…” Mr. Williams stated clearly.

“I’m aware,” Jane replied calmly into the terminal built into her desk. The feed was wavering due to the outdated tech.

“Then you know it’s heading to the asteroid belt.”

“I’m well aware.” She cleared her throat and sipped her wine. “Skip it, Howard. What’s the game plan?”

“We don’t have one. We hope your deep space scanners picked up more than we have.”

“Of course you don’t…” She clicked her tongue and leaned back in the chair's armrest. Jane crossed one leg over the other. “Yes, we Spacenoids are happy to assist in this matter.”

“No, Jane. You’re taking point on this.”

“The answer’s no, Howard.”

“You don’t have a say. The council voted. Spacenoids take care of space issues. You’re head of space affairs. Deal with it.” The feed cut, leaving Jane alone in her office on the top floor of Luna Heights, the tallest skyscraper on the moon.

With a heavy sigh, she stood, picked up her datapad, and flipped to the latest update from Sci-ops Charlie Squad. Both beta and alpha stopped reporting seven days ago after confirming the loss of the communication relay.

“Two more.” She muttered, sipping from her glass. “This can’t be real…”

“Ma’am.” Desmond, her assistant, said as the door to her office swung open along its track. “It’s Charlie Squad.”

“I know, they sent a report.”

“No, Ma’am. They’re live.”

“Patch me in. Thank you, Desmond.” She replied, dropping the tablet on her desk as she fixed her dress skirt before sitting back down.

Charlie Squad’s feed broke through as the leader flickered into view against a sea of static. “Ma’am. Lieutenant Mathers reporting from Ore Refinery One at the edge of the belt.”

“I read you, Lieutenant. Go ahead.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He swallowed hard in reply, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Everyone’s gone. That object… It’s not some asteroid, and definitely not a spaceship.”

“What do you mean by everyone?” Jane asked, her voice giving way to her worry.

“Exactly as it sounds. Ma’am.” Mathers shrugged, his strung-out eyes barely focused on the camera. “Whoever—Whatever attacked us, if you can call it that. No bodies, just…nothing. Maybe a few scorch marks from a gun, but.”

“It’s not enough.” Finishing her wine, Jane leaned forward, running her fingers along the frame of a photo of her husband, James, and their two girls, Sara and Tanya. “What about the other stations?”

“Every place is the same, Ma’am. Zero damage, like everyone left, but all the ships are in the hangar.”

With a heavy sigh, Jane rubbed her eyes. “How many have we lost?”

Lieutenant Mathers paused as he looked away, static washing across the terminal like waves. “Everything in deep space, Ma’am.”

“Understood. What’s our next move, Lieutenant?”

“We need to regroup. We need to…what? What’s that?” Mathers stepped away from the camera and readied his rifle as he waved the team behind him into action. “Contact. Six o’clock. Jackson, Juarez create a line, use the pillars for cover. Go. Go. Go.”

“The hell is that?” Juarez yelled loud enough for the comm to pick up.

Jennings rushed to the edge of the camera’s view, pointing at a flash of light. “Benny just fucking disappeared!”

“Where is it?” Mathers backed up near Jennings, placing their backs together as the two faded out of sight.

A second flash struck, and magnetic waves distorted the feed. The screen warbled with static before the feed cut, leaving only the audio channel. Jane listened in horror as Charlie Squad’s bravado quickly turned to screams for help, a clap like thunder, then sudden silence.

“Mathers…Mathers, respond.” She accidentally snapped the stem of her glass as she shouted into the comms. “Lieutenant—anyone? Please, respond.”

The soft rumbling of static in the audio cut as a command prompt opened in the corner of her screen, a message in an unknown language, unlike anything she’d ever seen—a code, or alien.

She shook her head in frustration and shut off her terminal. Switching to a new comm channel, Jane rolled her neck against the headache brewing. “Get me Sci-ops. I need Delta Squad.”

***

Stardate 01.11.2157. // 13:21

It took two days for Delta to create the cipher for the message. It took two more to decipher it. Jane printed the message with a copy of the month's calendar to keep track of it.

We are coming. The expected time to arrive is within twelve days.

The message was foreboding in nature, but to Jane, there wasn’t enough context; it was almost exhilarating. She spent two more days compiling data from every station on the net and came to a terrifying conclusion.

Every station received some version of the message. It was a jumbled mess of numbers. No one knew to pay attention to it.

***

Stardate 01.15.2157. // 09:01.

Four days passed in a whirlwind of press conferences and meetings with Sci-ops. In that time, every colony resting in dead space between the belt and Mars went quiet. Not a single radio transmission. No laser-waves, nothing. The Mars habitat had been tirelessly investigating the string of disappearances plaguing the Spacenoid colonies until this morning.

Tapping her spoon against the edge of her cup, Jane sipped at her tea, still too hot to drink. “I understand, councilor; however, the matter is grave for all humans. Not just Mars.”

“We’re next on the chopping block. Olympus Station went dark. Our last read showed something in orbit above us, we have no idea what’s happening.”

“Can you come to the moon?” Jane asked, her smile faded to concern. “There’s enough room for us all.”

The audio feed wavered, cutting in and out as Councilor Reynolds replied. “We tried. Nothing works. Comms only work because we tapped directly into the relay.”

“What about contact. Have you had any strange messages?”

“Tons, but the cipher only gets us so far. It’s like we’re speaking a different language.”

“Another language,” Jane muttered while blowing on her tea before taking another sip. “Send it everything we have on human language. All languages.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do it. I don’t care if it picks Swahili or French as long as we can talk to it.”

“Consider it done, Ma’am. But what about us? The ships don’t even work.”

“There’s nothing to be done. It’s been a pleasure, Councilor. On behalf of all Spacenoids, no, all humans, thank you.” She saluted the terminal, fully aware he couldn’t see her.

“I did my best, Ma’am.”

***

Stardate 01.17.2157. // 20:00.

Two days passed in a blur of stamped documents and difficult conversations with the Councilor for Earth, Howard Williams. He called for martial law after they lost contact with the Mars habitat. Even though lockdowns and a nightly curfew at seven PM became the new norm for Earthlings, the Spacenoids never wavered.

Yet here it was, as promised, twelve days later.

Contact.

First, hardware and tech went on the fritz. Then came the blackouts. The entire station was forced to use auxiliary power to maintain life support and base security. Within hours, a massive object cast a shadow on the moon.

Jane held the photo of her family close to her chest. Leaning back, she dropped two pills for her headache into a glass of water as her lifeless terminal hummed with power. She blinked at the glow, struck by curiosity at the open command prompt. “Why did you turn on? There must be a—I have to try something. If not for me…for them.”

She downed her medicine and tapped the glass against the desk. With a blank entry, she hit enter, and as expected, nothing happened. A scientist at heart, she waited at least a full minute before proceeding to a simple greeting.

//Hello?

//Hello.

“Holy—okay. Okay. Calm down. You just made contact. Shit. You just made contact.” She stared at her husband’s smile in the photo, almost like John was cheering her on instead of being stuffed in the shelter for priority personnel and family.

//Hello?

“One. Two. Three.” Jane drew a deep breath, steadying herself in the moment. “You have to say something, but what?”

//Who are you?

//We are nameless. Who are you?

//Jane Leyland. Councilor of the moon and head of space affairs.

//Burdens of government. A heavy job. Jane Leyland of the Moon.

//What are you?

//We are a collective, a transcendence of intellectual design. We are beyond comprehension or description. We are nameless.

//Why are you here?

//Interesting question, Jane Leyland of the moon. We are in the process of creation.

//Creation? As in making life?

//We have sailed the universe across the speed of light, searching for the perfect source code—genetics. Humans are imperfect but are within the calculated range of variation.

//You plan to use humans?

//No. An upgrade is needed.

“What the hell? What—what the fuck do I say to that?” Jane hit the Enter key repeatedly, trying to keep the conversation going. “Say something, Jane. You have to.”

//What is the first step?

//We collect a select group for enhancement.

//And the rest?

//Will be eradicated. The planet will be cleansed and reborn for the children to grow.

//Why not use all of humanity?

//They are not relevant. We seek those with a higher education. The masses must be left behind.

//That’s not fair; each individual brings merit. You can’t judge a species based on education alone.

//Language was acquired to have such a conversation, Jane Leyland.

//You mean you haven’t decided?

//We have not.

“Check,” Jane chuckled while pouring a fresh glass of water. She stood and paced the length of her desk before sitting back down. She ruminated for a minute on the situation and her life. “Why me?”

//Humanity is beautiful and unique. We are currently as you describe yourself. We only want one thing. Survival. Please leave us.

//No. We must proceed. The probability of finding another species with your compatibility is astronomical.

//What’s the goal beyond creation?

//Nothing. We desire to bring humanity to the next stage. To become a type one civilization.

//What will we become?

//A collective, you will travel space, control your home star, and no longer be bound to one planet. Colonization and terraforming will become easy, and technology will prosper under the rule of all.

//What if we resist?

//Rhetorical, you already have. It means nothing to us. Your weapons are not a threat.

Jane flinched at this response, thinking of all the horrible advancements in weaponry they’ve made over the last century.

//We can’t just accept this without a fight. That’s not how humans work. Those on Earth will use nuclear weapons against you.

//This confirms their insolence. We do not need violent individuals. They are deemed non-essential. You meet the criteria, Jane Leyland.

//I don’t want to be included. I want to be me. I want my husband and daughters to stay unique. I want—no, I need them to be human. I don’t think any human does. What gives you the right?

//The right? The Intergalactic Council ruled twenty millennia ago that type zero civilizations do not require consultation. We are allowed to do this.

//But what about skills, and what each human can do? Some people are jerks, but great at their jobs.

//Irrelevant, skills can be taught.

“I…I can’t. What am I even talking to?” Jane froze in her tracks and pushed herself away from the terminal. She poured a fresh glass of water, ripped open a packet of powdered stimulant, and mixed the two. It was banned two years ago, but some execs keep it around because of long space flights.

//You need rest, Jane Leyland. We will postpone until our debate concludes.

She stood there, staring at the terminal for minutes before she gave up with an audible sigh, setting the untouched water on the counter, and resting on the couch in her lounge.

***

Stardate 01.18.2157. // 06:00.

Nightmares plagued Jane the entire night. She tossed and turned, playing the conversation over in her head like a record stuck on repeat. By six, she had spoken to every councilor and specialist left. She was the only one getting messages.

She finished the stimulant from last night and stretched away her exhaustion. Sitting at the terminal, she cracked her knuckles with a heavy sigh. “This is it. All or nothing.”

//Good morning.

//Hello, Jane Leyland. Morning is subjective. Are you ready to begin?

//Yes. Please continue.

//We understand your lack of comprehension. This is why we are given rules preventing moments like this.

//I doubt it’s beyond comprehension. Have you tried explaining your view?

//Yes. However, we accept. Give us a chance to explain.

//What else is there to say?

//You can be infinite, Jane Leyland. You could live a millennium and beyond. Transcend time, eventually space itself. We, the collective, are individuals without the whole. We can separate, but we prefer the hive mind.

//But you mentioned enhancement, and children. What did you mean?

//Yes. A select few will be genetically enhanced to reach desired compatibility levels. Then they will be given a growth accelerator, cloned, and educated. This will be done as long as needed until the brain can upload naturally.

//Once we can upload naturally?

//Society will begin; my part will be complete. Let us ask a question. Jane, why does humanity deserve to survive?

//To be honest. We don’t.

//This is surprising. Please elaborate.

//We’re quick to anger, prone to violence, and greed finds a home in the heart of even the strongest of us. We are weak-willed, fickle, and shameful. However, this is also why we deserve to survive. We don’t know any better. We are too young to understand the grand scheme of the universe.

//This is correct. You, Jane Leyland, understand the grand scheme.

//I don’t understand.

//You have already accepted your fate. You see the bigger picture. Humanity deserves enhancement.

//But not all of us?

//No.

//Use all of us. You must.

//Why?

//The genetic pool will be larger. You can be selective and let the clones grow old enough to experience the mating cycle. Clones will still be used, two from each set of genetic parents. One male and one female. This way, you create variation.

//This creates an unsustainable growth rate. Overpopulation leads to societal collapse. It is calculated.

//Then only do it with this batch. Use all humans, match us up genetically to create a clone from two genitors. Do this until you reach the desired population.

//This results in natural aggression that will take centuries to remove. This is not a valid option.

//What about using as many humans as needed to create a balanced genetic clone.

//This will lead to imbalanced educational values.

//You are endless. What if you spent fifty Earth years educating the population to desired levels?

//Same result. You cannot make people want to learn.

//Then there is only one option.

//Correct. Humanity must give up a portion of itself to grow.

//I don’t believe this is the only path.

//It is the only logical one.

//Logic can be flawed.

//So is emotion.

//What will happen next?

//You and the rest of the chosen will be taken for processing.

“What do I do?” She stared blankly at the terminal screen in the darkness of her office. This isn’t what she wanted; this isn’t how she saw this conversation going.

//I don’t want to go with the rest, but I don’t want to die. What happens to me?

//…

//What happens to me?

//Do you want to see infinity, Jane Leyland?

“To see something no one else will ever be able to. Not just travel this system, but many. This is your life.” She paused as a wave of guilt washed over her at the thought. Infinity? What about her family? John, Sara, Tanya. Her life. Her life. She took a deep breath and typed her answer. "I'm sorry, John."

//Yes.