Alex Benedict 9 - Village in the Sky, page 5
“So what did Sally want?” I asked him.
“She was calling from the spaceport. To ask me if I had any books that I thought would be good to make available to the aliens.”
“Good for you. What did you suggest?”
“I was kind of busy. I needed time to think about it.” We’d left the receiver on so we could watch what was happening. Julie was gone, replaced by Morris Cassidy. The aliens were due tomorrow afternoon. “Sally was waiting to board a shuttle, headed for Skydeck. She’s probably there by now.” We were descending into my front yard. “I told her I’d get back to her.” A full moon floated in the middle of the sky. The lights came on as we touched down. “They’re scary,” he said. “The aliens.”
“Well, what do you expect? They’re spiders.”
“But they like books.”
“Right.” I couldn’t resist laughing. “I never realized you were so open-minded, Chad.”
I don’t think I’d ever seen that level of disapproval in his eyes before. But I let it go. We went inside and watched Morris Cassidy interviewing a physicist and Kayla, who’d done the first conversation with the aliens. The physicist thought it was a dangerous time and we should be careful. He asked whether Cassidy would get close to the visitors. When he said yes, that he hoped to do so, the physicist inquired whether he would be carrying a weapon. Cassidy tried to laugh it off, but the physicist shook his head and wished him luck.
I agreed with the physicist, but I said nothing to Chad. I didn’t want to get into an argument with him. Not on that night.
I switched on the HV. I’d expected to see a large crowd gathering at the space station for a chance to get a look at the aliens tomorrow, but the coverage revealed an empty concourse. “They’re probably not allowing anyone into the place without travel documents,” I said.
After we got settled, I got us some coffee. Cassidy was talking with the Skydeck comm op officer, asking whether security was on alert.
She smiled. “They’re always on alert, Morris.”
“The aliens look like something out of a horror film.”
“I hope,” Chad said, “the aliens aren’t picking this up.”
We were sitting on the sofa. Chad asked me to stop the broadcast for a minute. I did and he bit his lower lip. “My customers have mixed views. They’re interested in getting access to the books. The alien books. But they’ve all admitted to being uncomfortable with the way they look. That’s easy enough to understand. Especially since they’ve been listening to us for a while. A lot of them seem to think they’re planning an attack. They don’t approve of our letting them come into Skydeck.”
“Chad, they only have one ship.”
“Who knows what they have? Some of them think there might be an invisible fleet out there.”
“If they have an invisible fleet and they want us for dinner, why bother with the books?”
“That’s what I’ve been saying. But why have they been listening to us?”
“Isn’t that exactly what we would do in the same circumstances?” We were sitting staring at each other and then at the screen with its empty concourse. “So, Sally’s in charge of the book exchange?”
“They have several people working on it. She’s already begun contacting some of her associates about suggestions. She invited me to recommend two titles and deliver copies of them that can be turned over to the visitors. She doesn’t necessarily want classics, but primarily books that show us in a favorable light.”
“As in friendly?”
“More like as in not to be messed with. Like Belstein’s History of the Mute Wars.”
“Do you have a replicator?”
“No. It wouldn’t be legal for me to print books. But I can get access to one for this project.”
“Sounds good. What are you going to recommend?”
“I’m not sure yet. Probably Arlin Kramer’s Greek Drama. It’s a collection of a dozen of the greatest plays. And The Old Curiosity Shop. The Dickens novel.” He’d recommended that to me a few months earlier. I’d read it and was impressed by it, but I couldn’t see how it might suggest that aliens keep a respectful distance. “I was also,” he continued, “thinking about Horace Carpenter’s Meltdown. That would be a good pick.”
“Carpenter’s fairly recent, isn’t he?”
“Last century. He’s from Dellaconda.” He downed some of the coffee. “It’s a description of the kind of events that foreshadow governmental collapses. I wish we could find some of the other Dickens books. Only three have survived. Out of over twenty. The guy was incredible. Pretty much the only person I can think of who wrote a novel that’s still being read after nine thousand years.”
“How long does it take to make a copy of a hardcover?”
“About an hour.”
We turned the HV back on. “—to be later getting here than we expected,” comm ops was saying. “They’ll have to find their own way in.”
Chad frowned. “What’s he talking about, Chase? You have any idea?”
“My guess is that we haven’t been able to get control of their ship. When someone’s coming into the station, they turn everything over to comm ops. The station takes control and brings them into the bubble and stays with them until they’re docked. They probably discovered the links aren’t there to allow it to happen.”
“How much longer you think that’ll take?”
“It depends on a lot of things. For example, the ship might be too big to get through the bubble entry.” I shrugged. “That’s unlikely, but it’s possible.”
It was approaching midnight. “We both have to be up early tomorrow.” He looked at me and smiled. “I better head home.”
“I’m a bit in the wind. You really not going to hang around?”
“That’s the reason, Chase. You wouldn’t be on full burners tonight.”
* * *
I was in the country house the next day, tracking some of our artifacts, when news arrived that the aliens were docking at Skydeck. I switched on the HV and got my first look at their vehicle. It was longer, wider, and flatter than any of ours. And spidery symbols decorated the hull. In addition, two spiders were looking out from the bridge. Skydeck must have established some communications between AIs, because they were able to shut down the ship’s power and bring them gently into the commercial dock, which was probably the only one large enough to accommodate them.
I joined Alex and Gabe in the conference room. They were both fairly excited, a reaction I’d seldom seen from Alex. We watched four armed security guards and a Skydeck official enter the connecting tube. Lights came on and they followed it to the hull. The hatch was open when they got there. Two of the visitors stood waiting. Each held a box. Two more boxes had been placed on the deck. The official made no gesture but simply approached. “Hello,” he said. “Welcome to Rimway. My name is Harrison.”
A voice translated it into the alien language.
One of the aliens responded, and the AI voice interpreted: “Hello, Harrison. I am Ollie and this is Neo, the same two that your representative, Kayla, spoke with earlier.” A third alien retreated out of sight.
That was the way the conversation continued, with the AI managing translations for both sides. The aliens were slightly taller than the humans. They didn’t seem to be wearing uniforms. It was hard to make out any difference between their faces, if that’s even the right term. Ollie was the bigger of the two, which was probably the only way anybody could have told them apart. Their eyes resembled dark bulbs. Each had its arms wrapped around one of the boxes.
The extra pair of arms was unsettling. But despite all that, the aliens managed to look almost amiable. Maybe it was the leisurely way they carried themselves. Or the way they talked. I just don’t know.
“We’re glad you got here okay,” said Harrison. “Can we help with the books?”
“Yes,” said Ollie. “Thank you.”
The guards took them, including the ones on the deck. The aliens approached Harrison and each extended an arm, touching their fingertips with his. Neo said, “Hello to all. We’re happy to be here.”
Behind them the hatch closed. Harrison and the guards turned and escorted the aliens back through the tube. They emerged onto the concourse, stopped, and looked around at the walkways, the shops and restaurants. Everything looked closed. “Beautiful,” said Ollie.
They handed off the boxes to other Skydeck officials, who led the way to a conference room. The guards were still present, along with three more officials, one of whom was Sally McAndrew. The boxes were set down on a long table in the center of the room. One of the officials said how pleased he was to welcome our honored visitors. He identified himself as Calvin Polgar, director of the Contact Relations Bureau, a subsidiary of DPSAR. The aliens were, by our standards, casually dressed, with frumpy leggings and pullover shirts.
The officials and the visitors took seats around the table; the guards backed off but remained in the room. Translations were managed easily by the alien AI. Ollie, in near-perfect tone, said, “We’ve been traveling through the galaxy for a thousand generations, but we’ve only twice before encountered living civilizations. I can inform you that the news of our discovery, of your existence, has caused major celebrations at home.”
“Can you tell us about these other civilizations?” asked Polgar.
“We would prefer not to without their permission. If you wish, we will pass your query on to them.”
“Maybe it would be best to let it go,” Polgar said. “We can discuss it later.” He glanced at his associates. They all seemed in agreement. Then he turned back to Ollie. “How long have you known about us?”
“I was relatively young when we were informed that your worlds had been discovered. It is probably not obvious to you, but none of my people would mistake me for being now in my early time.”
One of the officials smiled. “You can travel faster than light?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask why it has taken so long for you to make contact?”
“We have always been intrigued by the possibility of an encounter with intelligent beings.” Neo was speaking now. “Caution, however, seemed like an appropriate response. We wanted, first, to learn whether establishing a relationship with you was a good idea. To be honest, whether it was safe. For both of us. As that was an obvious objective, we wanted to be sure we did not do anything that would alienate you. We wanted to show, from the beginning, friendly intent.”
“That’s why the books.”
“It’s part of the reason. But yes. Ollie and I hope we got it right.” Ollie and Neo got to their feet and opened two of the boxes, brought out sixteen books, and stacked them on the table. They were all hardcovers, and over the next few minutes we got close-ups of them. Impossible to read the titles, of course. “These are all duplicates of the original editions,” Ollie said, “obviously not convenient for your reading, but we thought you would appreciate having them. We also have copies in your language.” They opened the other two boxes and began lifting more books out and placing them on the table. They were identical in design except that the cover print was in Standard. Polgar and his associates were staring at them. The director and one of the others helped empty the boxes. Then they passed copies from both sets around, and they all sat paging through them.
Neo held one up for the HV camera. Its title was Living the Good Life by Parqua Des. And a second one: All the Time in the World. The author’s name looked unpronounceable. “These are historical, literary, and scientific,” he said. “You would describe some as philosophical. All that are in your language may be reproduced at your pleasure and made available to any who wish them. We ask only that they be made widely available to keep the prices at a reasonable level.”
Polgar held a finger to his lips. “And what is your share of the profits?”
“We want nothing.” “To be honest, there’d be no easy way to collect a payment.” He showed another title: Why We Laugh.
They never really stopped paging through the books. The ones in Standard drew all the attention. Polgar and his associates spent several minutes sorting through the volumes, obviously overwhelmed. They thanked the aliens, and this time showed no reluctance about clasping their hands. Sally approached Neo, and when he opened his arms, she embraced him. In that moment, we knew Sally had become immortal.
* * *
Eventually we got to see the other titles as well:
Skies on Fire
Foundations of Civilization
Discovering Rimway
Last of the Grundis
Facing Reality
Footprints in the Sands of Time
Faith: Why Belief Still Matters
Chaela, Where Are You?
Sharik Sunset
Empty Skies: Why We’re Alone
Meditations on Ethics
Once More unto the Breach
Moons over Korkorum
Apparently they’d been reading Shakespeare.
“You agreed,” Ollie said, “to provide us with some volumes to take home.”
Everyone looked toward Sally. “That’s correct, Ollie,” she said. “We’re working on it now. We should have them up here in a couple of days.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
“Our pleasure.”
“May we leave our ship docked where it is?”
Harrison responded, “Of course. Are there others on board?”
“Yes. There are several of us.”
“We can provide quarters for everyone if you wish.”
“No. Thank you. Your accommodations would likely not be adequate. We have different requirements. But we appreciate the offer. Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
Polgar was still paging through the books, in both languages. “Perhaps,” he said, “you can tell us the name of your home world?”
Ollie leaned forward, and for the first time I saw something that looked like a smile: “We come from Ulaka.”
Sally seemed caught up in simply touching the covers. She glanced over at Ollie. “Was this your idea? The books?”
“No.” He looked at his partner. “It was a committee decision. But it was originally Neo’s suggestion.”
Harrison aimed a wide smile at Neo. “I think we are all fortunate that he was part of the committee.”
“We’ll get the books to you as quickly as we can,” said Sally. “I’ll let you know as soon as we have them.”
“Thank you,” said Ollie. “There is something else of which you should be aware.”
The humans were getting to their feet. “Of course,” said Polgar. “And what is that?”
“Neo is not a male.”
Harrison frowned. “He isn’t? I mean, she isn’t?”
“Neither of us is.” They headed for the door.
* * *
The network switched back to Morgan Cassidy and a guest I did not recognize. “That’s a surprise,” said Cassidy.
“What is?” asked the guest, a young woman identified on the bar as a physicist named Charlotte Smith.
“This is probably one of the most important missions in their history. And they put two females in charge of it.”
Charlotte grinned. “Morgan, you’re forgetting something.”
“And what’s that?”
“They’re spiders.”
4
The most significant invention in the history of humanity was the printing press. It made everything else possible. It gave us the Enlightenment, paved the way for every scientific advance, and provided human beings with access to unlimited knowledge and imagination.
—Timothy Zhin-Po, Night Thoughts
Alex left a message with Carmen at home, giving me the day off. His explanation was that I deserved it. I didn’t know what that was about, but I was happy to run with it. I called Chad. His image blinked on, with a smile. “You okay, beautiful?”
“I’m good. Anything happening with you?”
“Of course. She called me earlier.” Meaning Sally. “She wanted to know if I’d made up my mind yet about my recommendations. I reminded her that I’d already told her, and she said she was sorry, that there’s so much going on right now that she’s having trouble keeping it all together. I think she was pleased with my choices, though I doubt she’ll go for Carpenter’s book. At the time I mentioned it, she sounded as if she didn’t think the books would be of much interest to aliens. And she’s probably right. They’re not very likely to care much about Greek drama or misadventures in early Britain.” He picked up a cup of coffee and took a swallow. “She’s probably gotten a lot more suggestions than she asked for.”
“Do you know what else she’s getting?”
“I’ve no idea. She’s keeping it close. When this first started, she asked me to say nothing about the recommendations. I should have mentioned that to you. You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
“No.”
“They’re going to release the titles in a couple of days. Probably when they present them to the Ulakans.”
“Chad, do you have any feelings about what else we should be giving them? Other than Dickens and the other two?”
“There are just too many substantial books, Chase. I don’t know how you narrow it down to a couple dozen. By the way, have you been watching Andy Prescott?” The late-night comedian.
“No.”
“He’s been having fun making recommendations. George Carver, for a start.” Carver is a classic cynic who thinks that we’re all idiots, and he has lots of stories to support it. “And Wyman Harper. That, of course, was The Art of the Con Job. Actually, every one of the late-night comics is recommending books.”
“Have you heard yet whether you will get to say hello to them?” I asked
“To the aliens? Unfortunately not. It’s a pity. I’d enjoy doing it. But I don’t think it will happen. I could use the PR.”
