very young human being, perhaps three months old, comfortably nestled in its father's arms. What was an infant's view of air travel? You go to a special place, walk into a large room with seats in it, and sit down. The room rumbles and shakes for four hours. Then you get up and walk off. Magically, you're somewhere else. The means of transportation seems obscure to you, but the basic idea is easy to grasp, and precocious mastery of the Navier-Stokes equations is not required.
It was late afternoon when they circled Washington, awaiting permission to land. She could make out, between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial, a vast crowd of people. It was, she had read only an hour earlier in the Times telefax, a massive rally of black Americans protesting economic disparities and educational inequities. Considering the justice of their grievances, she thought, they had been very patient. She wondered how the President would respond to the rally and to the Vega transmission, on both of which some official public comment would have to be made tomorrow.
“What do you mean, Ken, “They get out'?”
“I mean, Ms. President, that our television signals leave this planet and go out into space.”
“Just exactly how far do they go?”
“With all due respect, Ms. President, it doesn't work that way.”
“Well, how does it work?”
“The signals spread out from the Earth in spherical waves, a little like ripples in a pond. They travel at the speed of light—186,000 miles a second—and essentially go on forever. The better some other civilization's receivers are, the farther away they could be and still pick up our TV signals. Even we could detect a strong TV transmission from a planet going around the nearest star.”
For a moment, the President stood ramrod straight, staring out the French doors into the Rose Garden. She turned toward der Heer. “You mean… everything?”
“Yes. Everything.”
“You mean to say, all that crap on television? The car crashes? Wrestling? The porno channels?
The evening news?”
“Everything, Ms. President.” Der Heer shook his head in sympathetic consternation.
“Der Heer, do I understand you correctly? Does this mean that all my press conferences, my debates, my inaugural address, are out there?”
“That's the good news, Ms. President. The bad news is, so are all the television appearances of your predecessor. And Dick Nixon. And the Soviet leadership. And so are a lot of nasty things your opponent said about you. It's a mixed blessing.”
“My God. Okay, go on.” The President had turned away from the French doors and was now apparently preoccupied in examining a marble bust of Tom Paine, newly restored from the basement of the Smithsonian Institution, where it had been consigned by the previous incumbent.
“Look at it this way: Those few minutes of television from Vega were originally broadcast in 1936, at the opening of the Olympic Games in Berlin. Even though it was only shown in Germany, it was the first television transmission on Earth with even moderate power. Unlike the ordinary radio transmission in the thirties, those TV signals got through our ionosphere and trickled out into space. We're trying to find out exactly what was transmitted back then, but it'll probably take some time. Maybe that welcome from Hitler is the only fragment of the transmission they were able to pick up on Vega.
“So from their point of view, Hitler is the first sign of intelligent life on Earth. I'm not trying to be ironic. They don't know what the transmission means, so they record it and transmit it back to us. It's a way of saying “Hello, we heard you. ” It seems to me a pretty friendly gesture.”
“Then you say there wasn't any television broadcasting until after the Second World War?”
“Nothing to speak of. There was a local broadcast in England on the coronation of George the Sixth, a few things like that. Big time television transmission began in the late forties. All those programs are leaving the Earth at the speed of light. Imagine the Earth is here”—der Heer gestured in the air—”and there's a little spherical wave running away from it at the speed of light, starting out in 1936. It keeps expanding and receding from the Earth. Sooner or later, it reaches the nearest civilization. They seem to be surprisingly close, only twenty-six years for the Berlin Olympics to return to Earth. So the Vegans didn't take decades to figure it out. They must have been pretty much tuned, all set up, ready to go, waiting for our first television signals. They detect them, record them, and after a while play them back to us. But unless they've already been here—you know, some survey mission a hundred years ago—they couldn't have known we were about to invent television. So Dr. Arroway thinks this civilization is monitoring all the nearby planetary systems, to see if any of its neighbors develop high technology.”
“Ken, there's a lot of things her to think about. Are you sure those—what do you call them, Vegans? — you sure they don't understand what that television program was about?”
“Ms. President, there's no doubt they're smart. That was a very weak signal in 1936. Their detectors have to be fantastically sensitive to pick it up. But I don't see how they could possibly understand what it means. They probably look very different from us. They must have different history, different customs. There's no way for them to know what a swastika is or who Adolf Hitler was.”
“Adolf Hitler! Ken, it makes me furious. Forty million people die to defeat that megalomaniac, and he's the star of the first broadcast to another civilization? He's representing us. And them. It's that madman's wildest dream come true.”
She paused and continued in a calmer voice. “You know, I never thought Hitler could manage that Hitler salute. He never gave it straight on, it was always skewed at some wacko angle. And then there was that fruity bent elbow salute. If anyone else had done his Heil Hitlers so incompetently he would've been sent to the Russian front.”
“But isn't there a difference? He was only returning the salutes of others. He wasn't Heiling Hitler.”
“Oh yes he was,” returned the President and, with a gesture, ushered der Heer out of the Rose Room and down a corridor. Suddenly she stopped and regarded her Science Adviser.
“What if the Nazis didn't have television in 1936? Then what would have happened?”
“Well, then I suppose it would be the coronation of George the Sixth, or one of the transmissions about the New York World's Fair in 1939, if any of them were strong enough to be received on Vega. Or some programs from the late forties, early fifties. You know, Howdy Doody, Milton Berle, the ArmyMcCarthy hearings—all those marvelous signs of intelligent life on Earth.”
“Those goddamn programs are our ambassadors into space… the Emissary from Earth.” She paused a moment to savor the phrase. “With an ambassador, you're supposed to put your best foot forward, and we've been sending mainly crap to space for forty years. I'd like to see the network executives come to grips with this one. And that madman Hitler, that's the first news they have about Earth? What are they going to think of us?”
As der Heer and the President entered the Cabinet Room, those who had been standing in small groups fell silent, and some who had been seated made efforts to stand. With a perfunctory gesture, the President conveyed a preference for informality and casually greeted the Secretary of State and an Assistant Secretary of Defense. With a slow and deliberate turn of the head, she scanned the group. Some returned her gaze expectantly. Others, detecting an expression of minor annoyance on the President's face, averted their eyes.
“Ken, isn't that astronomer of yours here? Arrowsmith? Arrowroot?”
“Arroway, Ms. President. She and Dr. Valerian arrived last night. Maybe they've been held up in traffic.”
“Dr. Arroway called from her hotel, Ms. President,” volunteered a meticulously groomed young man. “She said there were some new data coming through on her telefax, and she wanted to bring it to this meeting. We're supposed to start without her.”
Michael Kitz leaned forward, his tone and expression incredulous. “They're transmitting new data on this subject over an open telephone, insecure, in a Washington hotel room?”
Der Heer responded so softly that Kitz had to lean still further forward to hear. “Mike, I think there's at least commercial encryption on her telefax. But remember there are no security guidelines established in this matter. I'm sure that Dr. Arroway will be cooperative if guidelines are established.”
