—You mean blow us all to pieces?
—Nothing so dramatic. The public might frown upon the United States carpet bombing a national park in Puerto Rico.
—That’s reassuring. You had me worried there for a second.
—I would surmise that a few well-placed torpedoes near the sea-lock chamber would prove just as effective.
—Nice. If it breached, we’d all drown within seconds, and no one would have to know.
—Do you wish to reconsider your decision to return?
—I can’t leave Kara down there. Besides, just in case there is an afterlife, I don’t wanna spend eternity hearing how I let her drown alone in Puerto Rico.
FILE NO. 255
INTERVIEW WITH MR. BURNS OCCUPATION UNKNOWN
Location: New Dynasty Chinese Restaurant, Dupont Circle, Washington, DC
—I am on my way to the White House.
—I know. That’s exciting! And yet you wanted to have lunch. You must be famished.
—Time is of the essence so I will not waste it with pleasantries. I need your help.
—You, asking for help? You really can’t think straight on an empty stomach and you haven’t eaten since you left San Juan.
—Do I dare ask how you know so much about my whereabouts?
—Funny, isn’t it?
—What?
—How strange this must be for you. You’re usually the one who knows things he shouldn’t about other people.
—Perhaps. But everyone can guess as to how I am privy to such information. It seems logical to assume that you and I do not frequent the same circles, which would suggest a vast network of information that no one is aware of.
—I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from someone who specializes in vast networks of information no one is aware of…Did I ever tell you the story of the fisherman and…
—No, you have not, and you will not. I do not have time for stories or colorful metaphors. What I require of you now are facts, and expediency. If you are unable or unwilling to oblige, please do not delay me any further.
—No stories then, but it’s your loss, it was a good one. I should be on my way.
—Please stay. If you are concerned by recent events in North Korea, I can assure you I did everything in my power to prevent them.
—Me, concerned? If you knew what I’ve seen in the last…in the last years, you’d know it takes a lot more than that to worry me. Please don’t take this as a personal insult, it’s not, but I may have overestimated you. I really thought you understood. I wouldn’t have come forward otherwise. I’m sorry.
—What exactly have I so miserably failed to grasp?
—I don’t know where to start…Oh, yes I do. First, it’s not about you, you arrogant prick! In the grand scheme of things, no one gives a damn what you approve of, don’t approve of, what you try to prevent or what you have for breakfast. This is a grand scheme of things…thing.
Second, it’s not about me either. I’m flattered if you’re looking for my personal approval, but it doesn’t matter much in the end. They are worried. That’s your problem.
—I fully realize the extent of my insignificance in history, believe me. I have yet to form an opinion on the extent of yours. I suspect your place in it is more considerable than you would like me to believe.
Before you judge me, and by extension, all of us, you must understand that while I would do everything I can not to antagonize technologically superior beings and risk a conflict of apocalyptic proportions in a near or distant future, my first duty is to ensure that this discovery does not lead to pandemonium in the here and now.
—Of course! You have a job to do. You don’t need to justify yourself to me.
[Good evening gentlemen. Are you ready to order?]
—I will have the Kung Pao chicken, and a cooling tea.
—I’ll have the same…Maybe there’s hope for you after all.
—Will you help me?
—I would love to help you, with something fun, but you don’t like fun. You want to talk about things like doomsday, humanity’s final judgment. Those are not fun. Why don’t we do something that will help you relax? Have you ever built a shed? It’s like building a tiny house. We can build one in a day, and you’ll feel this incredible sense of pride when we’re done.
—I feel the situation slipping from my control.
—You know what your problem is, don’t you? You place the fate of an entire planet squarely on your shoulders. Do you have any idea what that’ll do to your health?
—Please.
—Would it make you feel any better if I told you that you’re not responsible for what happens in the end?
—Do you know what happens? Do not make me beg.
—I know how hard this must be for you, but you have to work on your facial expression. You can’t say something like that with a poker face. How about this? I have absolutely no idea—honestly—what you can do to prevent all-powerful aliens from coming to this planet. I do not know that they are either. Beyond that, you should, by now, have begun to realize that I’ve already told you a lot more than I should have. What I really want you to understand—and that part may be a little more difficult to grasp—is that I can only make things worse by telling you more.
—Is there not a chance that they have simply forgotten about us?
—Not one. If there’s one thing they’re good at, it’s record keeping. You’re also very interesting at the moment. From an evolutionary perspective, most of the systems they are overseeing are either close enough to them to appear mundane, or at the earliest stages of their development, often without any sentient life or even complex organisms. Your “coming of age” is a rare event, a very exciting and important one. You can take my word when I say they are keeping a close eye on you.
—Our coming of age?
—Yes. This, all that’s happening now, this is your bat mitzvah. You can play with atoms, you can sit with the grown-ups.
—What does that mean for us?
—That means you won’t be forgiven for childhood mistakes anymore.
—How can we be accountable for our actions if we do not know what is expected of us?
—Nothing is expected of you. As I said, they’re not colonizers. The last thing they want is to interfere.
—I do not understand. They do not want us to kill one another using the weapon they left for us, yet we have been doing it for millennia using our own weaponry, and they did not raise an eyebrow.
—They don’t have eyebrows, a very resilient genetic trait as you can see.
—Nonetheless, can you tell me where the distinction lies?
—There’s no distinction. They don’t care whether you kill one another with a stick or with something they built. They don’t even care whether or not you kill one another. They will be perfectly content to watch humanity destroy itself completely. Your extinction is not the issue.
—So we need to demonstrate that we can be responsible with this newly acquired power, or they will come and take it away. Is that correct?
—If they decide that you’re not ready, yes. They’ll either take it back or they’ll send you back to the Stone Age and let you mature for a few millennia.
—How many robots would they send, should they decide to annihilate us?
—They don’t need to send any robots, they could wipe you out from orbit. But I suppose if they did, half a dozen would suffice, a hundred would be quicker, a thousand…you get the picture.
—Would we stand a chance in combat with our robot?
—I don’t think so. You have to remember, the one you have is six thousand years old. It’s an antique.
You never know, though, you might get lucky. Their weapons might have evolved considerably, but they’re still fundamentally the same—focused energy. What they have now will do more or less the same thing yours can, just more of it.
—So the safest course of action would be to do nothing and hope for mercy, is tha
t it?
—I hope not! I think you should fight your heart out. If they decide to get rid of all humans and start over, they’ll do it no matter what you do. If it were me, I’d rather go out swinging.
—I do not believe our robot could be victorious in a sword fight, not with our pilots.
—You’re probably right. I would fight from a distance.
—How can we when all we have is a sword?
—A sword? You didn’t destroy Denver International with a sword!
—So the energy burst is a weapon. We believed it might be a by-product of the material used to construct the device. It may be my underdeveloped cerebrum, but I fail to see how an omnidirectional burst of energy with a very limited range could allow us to fight from a distance.
—Nice try. You’ll have to figure that one out yourself. I’ve really said all that I can. You should go to your meeting. I’ll get the check.
—If I may ask, why are you helping us? Is that not against the rules?
—I’m just an old man who likes to tell stories. I can’t help it if you’re crazy enough to believe them.
—But why? Why not let them deal with us as they see fit?
—I live here. I know people, good people. I don’t want anything bad to happen to them.
—I am well aware that you were born here and that you are human for the most part. You won’t tell us how to fight them, but you tell us we should. You speak of them as “they,” not as “we,” which suggests some ambivalence, but there is something more. I sense an emotion I am familiar with when you speak of your ancestry. I cannot quite put my finger on it. Anger perhaps…Resentment?
—That’s a lot to read into the choice of a pronoun.
—They abandoned you here, did they not?
—I was born in Michigan.
—Your ancestors. They left your ancestors here with no instructions other than to blend in as much as possible. They left highly evolved people—they would have been some sort of scientists, the elite—alone with primitive, half-clothed people who probably had not even invented the wheel. Centuries spent longing for what must have seemed like the most basic necessities. Having children, but knowing they will never be all that they can, because you will teach them to be…ordinary. I can only imagine what I might feel, but rancor does come to mind.
—Nice speech! You’re right about one thing: You have no idea what these people went through or what they could possibly have felt. I will say one more thing before you go. Stop worrying so much! Are you doing your best?
—I fear my best may not be enough.
—Then you should come to peace with whatever comes. All you can do is try your best. Go now. Next time, you’re the one buying lunch, and you have to hear that story about the fisherman and the seagull. By the way, you owe me a favor. A big one.
—For your advice?
—No.
—Then I do not see how I am indebted?
—You’ll see…But you definitely owe me. Remember that.
FILE NO. 256
MISSION LOG—CW2 RYAN MITCHELL, UNITED STATES ARMY
Location: Undisclosed location, near San Juan, Puerto Rico
—Where are you now, Mr. Mitchell?
—In Alyssa’s office. I broke in to get her sat phone and her keys. You have to help me, sir. Please! I have to get her out of there. Can you help me?
—I assume you are referring to Ms. Resnik. Is she in imminent danger?
—She’s in med bay one with Alyssa. She’s…They’re doing things to her, sir.
—Who is?
—Alyssa. She’s…Look, there’s no time to explain everything. I need to get her out of there now. Can you send in troops?
—There is already a platoon of Marines on-site, but they will not breach. They will not risk it without knowing what they are up against.
—I can tell you! Just tell them to breach! I’ll tell you everything they need to know. They need to hurry!
—Mr. Mitchell, the Marines are not there at my request, and they are not there to help you. They are there to arrest you, you and everyone in that base.
—Wh…I…I don’t care! Tell them to breach. Tell them to arrest us. We need to get to Kara now!
—I am wanted for treason. You, Ms. Resnik, Mr. Couture, we are all traitors in the eyes of the United States government.
—Then why not breach and arrest us all?
—I can only speculate, Mr. Mitchell, but if I were in charge, I would not risk the life of my men by walking into a possibly hostile environment with a single point of entry, especially when you have no way out.
—What are you saying, sir?
—I am saying that if you want the Marines to come in, you will need to open the door for them.
—I can do that.
—I was being facetious! There are over a dozen armed men protecting that base. Most of them are ex-military. They will not hesitate to shoot you.
—I’m telling you, sir. I can do it. I can secure the base.
—Do you have the key to the armory?
—I’m on my way there now…Sir?
—Yes, Mr. Mitchell.
—I know that if you had your way, I’d still be rotting at Fort Carson…I’m sorry, sir. I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I’m sorry for what I did. I just wanted to say it.
—…
—I’m at the armory. Looking for the key. This has gotta be it…
—Have you ever fired at anyone?
—Not with a gun, sir, but I’m not gonna kill anyone.
—You will not be able to simply disarm a dozen men on your own.
—Look sir, I got myself into this mess because I almost killed Vincent. I’m not gonna try and fix this by killing a bunch of people.
—Mr. Mitchell, listen to me…
—It’s OK, sir, I found what I was looking for. I remembered they keep XREP rounds to get rid of trespassers on the surface.
—I know very little about firearms. What is an XREP?
—They’re less-than-lethal bullets that deliver an electric shock. They’re mini-Tasers you can fire with a shotgun. Very expensive little things. Anyway, there must be more somewhere, but I found three boxes of these and two shotguns. I’ll just grab a few stun grenades and a lot of tie-wraps.
—Tie-wraps? Mr. Mitchell, I strongly urge you…
—You’re right, sir. I can’t do this alone.
—Where are you going?
—Living quarters, there should be no more than one guard at the door. I just hope I can do this quietly. I need to stop talking now.
—…Mr. Mitchell?
—…
—Are you there?
—I am. I tried to knock the guard out, but I caught him in the back of the neck. I had to hit him again. Now if I can just find the right key…Unless…Yes! Good man. He had it around his neck.
—The key to what?
—Now, this guy’s not gonna be happy to see me…
Hi! I need your hel…Don’t…Stop…Would you…Stop fighting!
I need your help! Kara’s in trouble! Kara’s in trouble and I need your help to get her out. You can either trust me and help me or go back to your room, but I’ll need to knock you out too if you keep making this much noise.
—Who are you talking to? Mr. Couture? Tell him I was unsuccessful. Tell him the cavalry is not coming.
—He says the cavalry isn’t coming…You know who. Him! Now can you shut the hell up for a minute? OK. Help me drag this guy in here. Now take this key and lock every door in this corridor. They lock from the outside. There are twelve more guards on base. If we’re lucky, a couple of them are still in their rooms…
—Is Mr. Couture unharmed?
—Yeah, he’s fine. Well, he seems fine to me. He’s a lot stronger than I remember him to be…Are you done?
—Are you talking to me?
—Now here’s what we’re gonna do. Take these and put them in your pocket. I know they’re tie-wraps. Take this gun…
br /> No, I don’t want you to shoot anyone. I want you to give it to me when I run out of shells and reload the one I give you. This is a Mossberg 500. It holds five shells in the magazine tube. You put them in like this…There’s room for one more in the chamber here…
No, Vincent, we’re not gonna kill anyone. These are nonlethal bullets. Are you good? Can you do this? Good. Now load yours.
—Mr. Couture has received no military training. He may get you both captured or killed.
—He’ll be fine…No, Vincent, you’re doing great. One more…That’s it.
The machine shop is locked at this hour. Sea lock and the power plant are closed. That means all the guards should be at the entrance or in the main hallway. Look in the bag. These are stun grenades. When we get to the hallway, I’ll need you to grab two of these, remove the pin here, count to three, and throw them as far as you can away from us. That should disorient however many guards are there for a few seconds. Hopefully, that’ll be long enough for me to shoot them. Then you follow me in and you tie the guards’ hands together with tie-wrap…
No, that’s not it. I wish it were. Those grenades will make a lot of noise, the shotgun too. Whoever isn’t in that hallway, and the guards at the entrance, they’ll either wait for us or they’ll come for us. Whatever happens, we’ll have to improvise a bit. If you need to, you just shoot, then pump, then shoot, then pump—just like in the movies.
—Mr. Mitchell. I could not help but overhear your plan, or lack thereof. Are you sure you do not wish to reconsider your choice of weapon? Need I remind you that the guards you are so intent on keeping alive are using live ammunition?
—I’m well aware of that part. Vincent, are you ready for this? Cool! Just stay behind me…
We’re at the corner to the main hallway. I see two men talking along the wall, two more sitting at a table. No, make that three…Take the stun grenades out of the bag. Remember, count to three, then throw them away. Try to throw one as far right as you can. Oh, and don’t look. On my count, three…two…one…now!
…
One guard.
…
Two.
Vincent, come on!