InterstellarNet: Origins (9 page)

“Exactly. ET’s science appears not to have gone in those directions.”

“And in return for this decades-old technology we can expect to receive advanced chemical knowledge, such as for fuel cells. In effect we will get something for nothing.” Ramos thumped the table. “How can we lose?”

“Who are ‘we’ who cannot lose?” Charise Ganes asked coldly. “Who obtains this advanced chemistry and reaps the benefits? A few big multinational corporations?”

“If I may?” It was Khaldun ibn-Saud, ambassador and Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia (and, Dean suspected, another Klein ally). “All our universities have listened to ET. When he responds,
all
will do so again. We shall all get the new technology.”

Another noisy interruption from the street. Just for a moment Li Zhou Huang, the Chinese ambassador, narrowed his eyes.

Of course, Li’s government wasn’t big on public protest. The regime continued to rationalize the Tiananmen Square massacre. Talk about cultural differences, Dean thought.

Dean’s mental antennae quivered again. What
was
it?

The ambassadors were now talking to each other—and as often past each other. No one seemed interested in Dean at the moment. Putting his trust in his subconscious, he gave less than his full attention to the debate. Cultural differences. Cultural sensitivities.

Step back, Dean told himself. Big picture. The decoding remained unchallenged. The potential benefit of the proposed swap was uncontested. The subliminal text of his briefing, that ET would get technology inferior to what the less developed countries had already mastered, may have converted a few ambassadors. That was one cultural sensitivity addressed….

What
was
his subconscious poking at?

Ambassador Ganes orchestrated a steady stream of objections, pressing what seemed to be the last-ditch counterargument to a reply. Who is this ET? Why is he so secretive? What are his motives? Ganes had never given Dean any impression she was xenophobic—but whatever
did
bother her somehow justified fanning and exploiting xenophobia in others.

French-accented English in Dean’s earpiece presented the translated objections of Chad. Some combination of the translator’s accent and the booming bass voice of Chad’s ambassador brought to Dean’s mind the leader of the Media & Education committee. “Our role is to package and control the Lalande information,” Paul Ricard had said at the kickoff, “in a manner respectful of the various cultural sensitivities.”

Dean had focused that day on the impracticality of controlling ET information. What about packaging that information? He remembered sitting through one droning oration after another about the optimal multicultural spinning of prospective announcements.

So what had he learned?

In the streets a new chant broke out, louder than ever.
“Hey, Hey. Ho, Ho. COP-U-OS has got to go!
” Sirens wailed.

Just how many people were outside protesting? Dean wondered.

Li Zhou Huang squinted once more, his feelings toward the crowd evident. Earth First had been wise to omit China from its planned demonstrations.

The chant changed to “ET hang up! ET hang up!”

What did ET know about Earth’s cultures? Almost certainly, nothing. Ditto for any sensitivity that news of ET’s culture might arouse passions on Earth. And so—

Dean blinked. Suddenly, it all made sense. He grabbed a mike. “The concerns now being expressed may rest on a misapprehension.”

“And what is that?” Ambassador Ganes asked frostily.

“That the society on Lalande 21185 is being secretive.” Dean spread his arms wide. “Many cultural perspectives are evident at this hearing. And yet despite the precedent here on Earth, we speak of ET, of a personification rather than a populace. I wonder if we have fallen into the error of positing a single alien culture.” As
he
had, until a moment ago.

“Imagine a far-off conference of aliens preparing a message to Earth. They, too, have many cultures, developed over millennia. Their national representatives debate how to introduce themselves to their newfound neighbors: us.

“Will they present all their cultures, or the supposedly leading ones, or only their cross-cultural commonalities? Will each society describe itself, or must all groups agree to every description? Will their entire history be an open book, or will they withhold embarrassing episodes? What is to be said when two nations, one perhaps an ex-colony of the other, or former military adversaries, disagree about events? Will explanations be offered about contradictory religions and systems of economics? For those far-off beings cannot help but wonder: How will our society, or societies, react to theirs?

“ET took more than thirty years to contact Earth after detecting humanity’s presence. We have all wondered why.” Dean slowly and deliberately made eye contact with each ambassador. Each COPUOS voter. “Perhaps the ETs needed that long to agree upon the one mutually acceptable description of their cultures…

“Silence.”

When Li Zhou Huang and Alex Klein simultaneously nodded, Dean knew that he, the task force, and humanity had won today.

12

People packed the United Nations auditorium and more thronged in the entryway. Charise recognized fellow COPUOS ambassadors, task force members, and talking heads from the networks. The waiters circulating with champagne and fussy little hors d’oeuvres struck her as being in the poorest possible taste, for the future was as likely to mourn as to honor this day.

Twenty-one minutes and counting until the start of transmission.

Charise pressed through the crowd toward Bridget Satterswaithe and Dean Matthews. Both looked exhausted. Refining and encoding Earth’s reply, then checking and double-checking it, had been ’round-the-clock efforts for two weeks. The Reply committee had borne the brunt of it—the final tweaks to the message had been made just that morning—but almost everyone on the task force had felt the crunch.

And to what end? Charise wondered. She was not alone in her doubts. Thousands, maybe millions, continued to demonstrate in cities around the world. Scenes of protest would not appear in the outgoing message, of course.

Charise reached her destination. “Doctors.”

Satterswaithe looked up. “Oh. Ambassador.”

“You look surprised.”
And you, Dr. Matthews, look wary
. Both reactions offended Charise.

“I didn’t expect to see you today.” Satterswaithe said.

I failed to prevent us from answering. That makes me responsible, too.
“Where else would I be today?” Charise paused to glare at the man who had bumped her elbow while squeezing past. “What we do this day is important. We agree on that. And surely, as you expect, in the coming years we will learn many wondrous things. ET will, too. I hope that is all that happens.”

“What else
could
happen?” Matthews asked.

“I don’t know,” Charise candidly admitted. “Or rather,
we
don’t know. We can’t know. And yet, like ET before us, we would presume to gamble with the destinies of worlds.”

“Driving a car is a gamble,” Matthews retorted. “Everything we do, every day, is a gamble. ‘I don’t know’ is no reason to stand in the way of progress. What can you possibly be worried about?”

“Not all gambles have the same stakes,” Satterswaithe reminded, softly.

A flicker of doubt?
Charise wondered. If so, it came too late to matter.

Hoping she was wrong and certain she was not, Charise said, “What do I worry about? That galactization will prove to be globalization on steroids, and Earth the exploited hinterlands.”

■□■

Dean watched Charise Ganes stride away. “What the hell was
that
?”

“A reminder that we should be approaching today with some humility,” Bridget said. “I wonder if I’ve misjudged her.”

There seemed nothing to add to that. Dean glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes. They would be interminable.

Bridget finally broke the awkward silence. “I find myself envying ET…I mean, the Leos.”

Rebranding the aliens had been Dean’s idea. Referring to Leo Minor, the constellation in which Lalande 21185 could be found, had been Alex’s. Polls showed that the new name was reassuring to millions. Despite or because of the astrological flavor?

Whatever worked, Dean decided. “Envy them? What do you mean?”

“Discovering unexpected courses in quantum mechanics and computing. Following our recipes to build their first transistors and solar cells.” A waiter squeezed by with a tray of canapés. Bridget gestured with a meatball on a toothpick. “Look how much the Leos already accomplished
without
computers.

“And
then
they’ll read our catalogue. Just think what they’ll be able to do
with
computers.”

“So you think ET may be interested in how to make integrated circuits? Or the schematics for the old PC in my basement?”

“Could be.” She grinned. “Really, it’s a brilliant solution. Trade our common knowledge, to which no one can object to sharing, for the Leos’ expertise.”

“And since we’ll post our outgoing message to the ’net, anyone who cares to can have a sneak preview of our order. That’s at least sixteen years’ lead time to figure out ET’s technology or to decide to exit a business that could be made obsolete.”

“So you’re not buying the ambassador’s doom and gloom?” Dean asked.

“Not…really.”

He let her hesitation go by without remark.

“Your attention, everyone,” called the amplified voice of Kim Chun Ku. “Attention, please. Attention.” Across the auditorium, shushes. “Everyone, please. Everyone. If you will all please take your seats.”

On stage, large-screen TVs showed the great parabolic antenna at the Jodrell Bank radio observatory (on the cusp of becoming an interstellar broadcasting station), the nearby control room, and a slaved copy of the main console displaying only a decrementing counter.

The antenna was prepositioned, its motion as it tracked Lalande 21185 too gradual to be noticed. The control room had been vacated by all but a few technicians, the US-G, and Sherman Xu. As the counter reached sixty seconds, Kim whispered something to the man whose discovery had started it all. The crowd cheered as Xu sat at the console.

At zero, Xu tapped the enter key. To thunderous applause, the text of Earth’s response, in all the primary languages of the UN, began scrolling down screens in the auditorium. Dean and Bridget embraced, and were far from the only people hugging and backslapping.

The more important version of the message took the first step of its long journey: an uplink to a comsat high over the Atlantic for relay to Jodrell Bank in the UK. Jodrell Bank would start Earth’s beamcast. As the world turned, responsibility would be handed off from transmitter to transmitter. The eighteen-hour message would repeat continuously for the thirty days ET had said he would be listening.

People watched text scroll until, finally, the US-G joined the crowd in the auditorium. Keeping his remarks brief, he thanked everyone for their contributions. Then he, too, was finished. Words had become anticlimactic.

The room emptied slowly, most people too wound up to leave but for the first time in months without a clear purpose. Party noises from the foyer were subdued.

■□■

Dean and Bridget sat alone in an otherwise empty auditorium. “Yes, I envy ET,” Bridget said again. “He has only eight years to wait. We’ve got twice that to endure.”

“We actually have plenty to keep us busy.”

Eyes evidently
could
twinkle—he was emitting some good vibe.

“Okay, Dean. What haven’t you told me?”

“Remember ET going offline a while back?”

“Sure. Didn’t we decide his planet was going behind his sun? Too much interference?”

“That ‘explanation’ was purely speculative, since we can’t see his planet.”

She tipped her head in puzzlement. “What
are
you saying?”

“There’s a small matter I’ve kept to myself since we cracked ET’s transmitter design. Remember the beam-steering and Doppler-correction logic? That circuitry is implicitly a model of his planet’s movement and ours. I took the liberty of programming the model onto my laptop.”

“So is our speculation plausible?” she asked. “Might ET have stopped sending because his orbit meant his sun would be in the way?”

“Not even close. ET had another reason for stopping his transmission. My guess is that he had another use for his big transmitter.” The notion Dean had been holding inside burst forth in an ear-to-ear grin.

“Now that we’ve built ourselves a phone, it appears we might have other neighbors to introduce ourselves to.”

INTERLUDE

2002 - 2050

Both sides of the Lalande/Leo debate had had it right. And wrong.

Knowledge from the stars brought prosperity and economic shocks. Few fully anticipated the consequences, for good or ill.

And those surprises overtook two worlds.

The aliens popularly known as the Leos were among the shortsighted. Technology they had never imagined, let alone requested—quantum mechanics, transistors and integrated circuits, computing—unleashed chaos and an avalanche of scientific progress.

On Earth, meanwhile, the Leo-inspired innovations included new energy sources and wondrous materials. Beginning in 2012, the aliens of Alpha Centauri added novel biotech to the mix.

Humanity put the alien technologies to use, cleaning up its environment and revolutionizing its medical science. The human race established itself in orbital colonies, on Luna and Mars, in the Asteroid Belt, and among the moons of Jupiter. Cheap, space-based resources flooded the markets.

While everywhere, old paradigms, industries, national economies, cartels crumbled.

It was an era of marvels and disarray, of disruption and reinvention. It was an epoch fairly likened to the Industrial Revolution and the Information Age.

It was, in short, a time of—