Existence

But hang on a moment. Let me finish. For, you see, there remained arguments over how to present our simulations. Perhaps hide a transmitter aboard one of the big, deep space probes sent out by ESA, NASA, or Sinospatial-perhaps the Maffeo Polo or Voyager Twelve-heading out to Uranus or Neptune. The clever notion was for our little parasitic device to detach from the main ship, just as the mission swung close to Jupiter, for a gravity slingshot maneuver. If done properly, at that crucial point, the two pieces might go very different ways. (See the concept illustrated here.)

A few years later, the secret transmitter would then turn toward Earth and beam a SETI signal to our planet, purporting to be from some faraway world and laying down a threat that might unite humanity! It was a clever plan… but impractical, I’m told. The space agencies and their astronautics experts might not be fooled for long. They would soon trace back the orbits and figure it all out. Anyway, smuggling a parasitic cargo onto a scientific planetary probe is about as easy as persuading your wife to hire three Swedish “nannies.” It can’t be done.

So my fellow conspirators settled on the Artifact Option. No need to stow away on a voyage to deep space. Instead, use all those hidden techniques to make a simple block of reactive crystal that could be powered by sunlight alone. Embed the right simulation programs… then simply release it into orbit near the Earth! In such a way that it would have to be noticed, and grabbed, by one of the debris-snagging teams… ideally, by some astronaut who was bored, burnt out, and easy to fool. Drop a hint or two, get him assigned to work in the desired area-and there you have it!

At the surface, our deception worked better than any of us could have hoped or imagined. And I admit, I felt pretty darned proud of the results. Especially my aliens! It was some of my best writing, ever.

Oh, sure, some people have cried “hoax!” since the beginning. But we expected that. So long as a majority believed there were genuine aliens, and that First Contact had finally been achieved, then the whole world’s attention would zero in on the same thing, at the same time…

Only, then some things went wrong. I began to see the story go off track. Our synthetic aliens, simulated inside the Artifact, started diverting from my script! Moreover, instead of uniting the world, this “First Contact” was having the opposite effect, splintering society and causing everything to fracture!

Then came the Core Message. This thing about making millions of copies was bad enough. But to claim that nobody survives?

That’s when I realized… I’d been had. In my gullibility, I had lent my services, my creativity, to a conspiracy. One that had communicated with me only by encrypted overlays, never in person. What had seemed a prudent security measure, I now saw as a way to keep me from ever tracking down my comrades in crime. Compatriots who-for some reason-had chosen to alter the message, giving it a twist I never intended. From hope to despair.

Why? I honestly don’t know! When I wrote my scenario, I considered the possibility that some ulterior motive underlay the Group’s surface idealism. Perhaps I was a dupe and all of this would turn out to be just a publicity stunt for some new interactive game. Oh, I turned out to be a dupe, all right. But the underlying scheme was deeper, more malevolent than anything I imagined.

I’m running out of time, so let me leave all the details for later. Suffice it to say, for now, that I’m ready, even eager, to make up for my role in this crime. It is undeniable that I broke the law… attempting a hoax to startle the world out of its modern illness. A medicine that might have worked, if done properly.

It now seems likely that for my part in the hoax-for my sin of pride in thinking I could “save the world”-I will almost certainly spend time in jail, or worse. But it feels cleansing to get the truth out there… and to counter a plot that I now recognize as misguided, even vile.

To the authorities, let me assure you, I’ll cooperate, tell all, and accept my fair punishment with good grace, according to the traditions of Gandhi, King, Solzhenitsyn, and the other fighters for truth.

As for the rest of you, please accept my humble regrets for contributing to this unfortunate disruption in your lives. Lives you all can return to, now that we-humanity-are once again alone in our universe.

52.

APPRAISAL

“… ideally, by some astronaut who was bored, burnt out, and easy to fool…”

Gerald felt all eyes swivel toward him.

“Ouch!” Genady commented. Akana audibly ground her teeth.

“Well, he accomplished one thing,” Emily murmured. “The sumbitch just vaulted from 246 to number nine in just a few minutes. The fastest fame-flame in history! Sorry, Gerald, he just streaked past you.”

“Hush,” was his only answer. None of them had picked up the first airing of Brookeman’s broadcast. By now it was ten minutes old. Almost ancient. World commentary had already tsunamied past all records, overwhelming the gisting systems. Yet the periphery of Gerald’s tru-vu seemed remarkably calm. It was set to such a high filter level that only a few, ultra high-reputation virts fluttered around the center image, a tall, slender sci-fi author, uttering his “confession” in dry, even unctuously sincere tones.

“That’s when I realized… I’d been had. In my gullibility, I had lent my services, my creativity, to a conspiracy…”

Gerald sighed. The man was good. In fact, he had never seen the like. Right now it didn’t matter that most of the high reputation virts were glimmering phrases like Bullshit artist! and Absurd! These were comments by reputable scientists and technology experts, not the man or woman on the street.

“It is undeniable that I broke the law… attempting a hoax to startle the world out of its modern illness.”

Ben Flannery let out a sigh that was partly pure admiration.

“Do you see how that pakeha bastard just boosted his credibility, by playing the willing martyr card? Who would confess to a crime, if it weren’t true? I recall something…” He scratched his head. “Someone else did that recently.” Ben wasn’t wearing specs, so he didn’t get an instant answer. “Oh, but we are in for it now!”

Keeping his thoughts to himself, Gerald mused.

Are we? Any worse off than before? Thank heavens at least the Artifact was being kept busy by several technicians across the room, downloading technical information, so the alien entities weren’t getting this feed. Best to ponder how to break it to them, that they were a “hoax.”

“To the authorities, let me assure you, I’ll cooperate, tell all, and accept my fair punishment with good grace, according to the traditions of Gandhi, King, Solzhenitsyn, and the other great fighters for truth.”

Emily pounded the table and Genady groaned.

One of the nearby virt-boards still glimmered where Gorosumov had been presenting his latest theory-that the Artifact was less like a chain letter than a living species. One with an “r-type reproductive strategy,” akin to ocean creatures who spew huge numbers of larvae into ocean vastness, so very much like space-gambling that one or two might find a warm place to grow and reproduce again. A fascinating comparison-and one more reason to resent Brookeman’s bizarre interruption.

“Lives you all can return to, now that we-humanity-are once again alone in our universe.”

At last, the lanky author was finished, smiling into the camera with an artful mix of boyish bashfulness and the noble mien of a saint. The scene dissolved…

… at which point the flurry of blits crowding Gerald’s tru-vus became a storm, no matter how high the filter settings. He took off his specs and glanced across the room again-