the first I approached. ‘I saw what I saw, but what I saw doesn’t make sense. Best to ignore it and see what happens when, or if, it comes back. What else can we do? There’s no point dwelling on it.’
‘Really, Steve?’ I had expected more from this pragmatic pillar of a man. ‘Don’t you even wonder - ?’
‘Sure, Alek. Sure I wonder. I wonder if we’ve all gone crazy.’
‘The timing is what bothers me,’ confessed Myrion. ‘We’re a third of the way through the mission - less than that, actually - and there have been few in the way of major discoveries. I guess we were all hoping for at least some sign of alien life by now, but, apart from the false alarm at Beta Serpens, everything’s dead, dead, dead! Maybe we’re externalising our expectations. The flying saucer is a common enough archetype, after the hysteria of the twentieth century. Did you ever read about the abductions that supposedly took place in the eighties and nineties?’
‘Yes.’
‘They stopped when SETI folded. The pressure on the communal psyche shifted back to the internal and we started seeing ghosts again. Maybe we’re experiencing the re-emergence of the UFO syndrome.’
‘So we’re crazy?’ I didn’t mention that I’d had, in essence, a similar conversation with Steve.
‘No. We’re hallucinating.’
‘Same thing, isn’t it?’
‘Ask someone on LSD.’
‘I will,’ I promised, ‘just as soon as I get home.’
She smiled. She was always more cheerful when she thought she’d won an argument.
‘Jiggery-pokery,’ was Andre’s opinion. ‘Some idiot’s playing a trick on us.’
‘How?’
‘By seeding the AI network with incumbent viruses programmed to activate at a specified time in the mission. When they trigger, we see images through the screens of things that aren’t really there: electronic ghosts, if you like. You’ll have to ask Freedom exactly how they did it, but I’ll bet it’s something like that. After all, we found no evidence that the saucer ever existed, did we? No wreckage, no radiation, no particulate wake - nothing. Therefore it wasn’t real; therefore it was a stunt. It’ll be ghost-writing in the sky next. Some sort of propaganda, or a message to a girlfriend.’
‘“Remember that night in Paris” ...?’
He didn’t smile. ‘Something like that.’
I knew better than to ask Andre if he doubted his sanity, so instead I asked him the question that really bothered me:
‘Do you think I’m behind it? Be honest. I can take it.’
He thought for a moment before replying. ‘No, I suppose I don’t. I’m just angry at you for falling for it.’
Now that was a sobering thought.
‘I guess it all boils down to the fact that someone is really out there,’ said Freedom, next on my list. ‘Their motives may seem mysterious, perhaps even nonsensical, but they’re there all the same. And that’s what counts.’
‘So you don’t think it was a prank, or some sort of glitch?’
‘Absolutely not. I helped design half the information systems on this ship. I’d know if they were malfunctioning, or if someone had tampered with them. Same with my brain. Anybody who says otherwise is evading the issue.’
‘But why only one ship? If they’re as advanced as they appear to be, why aren’t there hundreds of them out here?’
‘Well, the Galaxy is a big place, right? The old SETI system - aiming an antenna at the sky and waiting - simply won’t work. It takes centuries for signals from one civilisation to reach another, even if they’re relative neighbours; by the time you’d know they were there, they might not be any more.’
‘Yes, but -’
‘The only way to find life, therefore, is to go out and look for it, system by system. This applies for any civilisation anywhere in the Galaxy, and especially out here in the Rim. Thus, the sort of aliens we’ll be
‘Really, Steve?’ I had expected more from this pragmatic pillar of a man. ‘Don’t you even wonder - ?’
‘Sure, Alek. Sure I wonder. I wonder if we’ve all gone crazy.’
‘The timing is what bothers me,’ confessed Myrion. ‘We’re a third of the way through the mission - less than that, actually - and there have been few in the way of major discoveries. I guess we were all hoping for at least some sign of alien life by now, but, apart from the false alarm at Beta Serpens, everything’s dead, dead, dead! Maybe we’re externalising our expectations. The flying saucer is a common enough archetype, after the hysteria of the twentieth century. Did you ever read about the abductions that supposedly took place in the eighties and nineties?’
‘Yes.’
‘They stopped when SETI folded. The pressure on the communal psyche shifted back to the internal and we started seeing ghosts again. Maybe we’re experiencing the re-emergence of the UFO syndrome.’
‘So we’re crazy?’ I didn’t mention that I’d had, in essence, a similar conversation with Steve.
‘No. We’re hallucinating.’
‘Same thing, isn’t it?’
‘Ask someone on LSD.’
‘I will,’ I promised, ‘just as soon as I get home.’
She smiled. She was always more cheerful when she thought she’d won an argument.
‘Jiggery-pokery,’ was Andre’s opinion. ‘Some idiot’s playing a trick on us.’
‘How?’
‘By seeding the AI network with incumbent viruses programmed to activate at a specified time in the mission. When they trigger, we see images through the screens of things that aren’t really there: electronic ghosts, if you like. You’ll have to ask Freedom exactly how they did it, but I’ll bet it’s something like that. After all, we found no evidence that the saucer ever existed, did we? No wreckage, no radiation, no particulate wake - nothing. Therefore it wasn’t real; therefore it was a stunt. It’ll be ghost-writing in the sky next. Some sort of propaganda, or a message to a girlfriend.’
‘“Remember that night in Paris” ...?’
He didn’t smile. ‘Something like that.’
I knew better than to ask Andre if he doubted his sanity, so instead I asked him the question that really bothered me:
‘Do you think I’m behind it? Be honest. I can take it.’
He thought for a moment before replying. ‘No, I suppose I don’t. I’m just angry at you for falling for it.’
Now that was a sobering thought.
‘I guess it all boils down to the fact that someone is really out there,’ said Freedom, next on my list. ‘Their motives may seem mysterious, perhaps even nonsensical, but they’re there all the same. And that’s what counts.’
‘So you don’t think it was a prank, or some sort of glitch?’
‘Absolutely not. I helped design half the information systems on this ship. I’d know if they were malfunctioning, or if someone had tampered with them. Same with my brain. Anybody who says otherwise is evading the issue.’
‘But why only one ship? If they’re as advanced as they appear to be, why aren’t there hundreds of them out here?’
‘Well, the Galaxy is a big place, right? The old SETI system - aiming an antenna at the sky and waiting - simply won’t work. It takes centuries for signals from one civilisation to reach another, even if they’re relative neighbours; by the time you’d know they were there, they might not be any more.’
‘Yes, but -’
‘The only way to find life, therefore, is to go out and look for it, system by system. This applies for any civilisation anywhere in the Galaxy, and especially out here in the Rim. Thus, the sort of aliens we’ll be
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