Randoms (3 page)

Here was the deal as the giraffe guy explained it. Along with the other three humans, and representatives from three other species, I would go visit the Confederation of United Planets, and there we would be evaluated, though he was vague about the details. If, after a standard year—only a few days shorter than an Earth year—a species was deemed worthy, then the Confederation would initiate the first phase of integration. We
would be given incredible new technology that would help us eliminate pollution, hunger, disease, and want.

“Dr. Roop has assured us that the nations of the Earth would maintain their local sovereignty,” Ms. Price assured me. “In case you were worried about that.”

I couldn't imagine why she thought I would even care, but still, good to know.

“How you order your local affairs is of little interest to the Confederation,” Dr. Roop said, “as long as the various countries of your world demonstrate the values and behaviors we consider commensurate with our standards. We will give you the means to create a just and fair world, and if you are able to take advantage of what you are given, then you can advance to full participation in the Confederation. Eventually, you will be provided with the technology for interstellar travel.”

Given how ready many people are to abuse power, justice and fairness seemed like a tall order. “And if we fail to achieve justice and equality?” I asked. “What then?”

“Then nothing,” said the giraffe man. “We shall leave you alone and come check back in a few decades to see if you've worked out your problems. There's no downside to participating. You can only benefit.”

“This end to disease you mentioned,” I said. “Is that for real?”

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Roop said. “We can't eliminate all minor ailments and discomforts, but chronic and deadly disease will be a thing of the past.”

I couldn't help but think about that particular benefit. My mother would be cured. No more ALS. She would not have to turn into a living corpse. I realized that beyond how much I
loved all of this for its own sake, I had a very personal interest in the Confederation of United Planets being impressed with the people of the Earth.

“Why young people?” I asked. “And more importantly, why me? How, of all the kids on Earth, did you come up with my name?”

Dr. Roop widened his eyes, which I began to suspect might be his species' version of a smile or a nod. “Adolescents are particularly well suited for evaluation because they are old enough and sufficiently educated to represent your world and its cultures, but not so fully developed as to be resistant to new ways and new technologies. Over time we have found that using beings your age—or the species-relevant equivalent—for this evaluation gives us the best and most accurate sense of compatibility.”

“Okay,” I said. “I guess I can see that. But why
me
?”

“Maybe,” Ms. Price suggested, “we should tell you a little bit more about the other young people the Confederation has selected.” She picked up a remote device, and a screen came down on the far side of the room and the lights dimmed. She then flicked a few keys on her keyboard, and the image of a kid about my age appeared on the screen. He was dark-skinned and thin with narrow, focused eyes like he was concentrating on something. He wore a white dress shirt with a sweater over it that had some kind of symbol on the right breast, which I figured was a private-school insignia.

“This is Charles D'Ujanga,” Ms. Price said. “He's twelve, from Uganda, and remarkably gifted in both math and science. He was born in a horribly poor village, and orphaned quite young, but by incredible luck his gifts were discovered early by
a UN doctor. Consequently, he's been the beneficiary of some excellent NGO aid that's allowed him to go to the best schools in his country. Given the political problems in Uganda, this is no small thing.”

She hit a few keys on the keyboard and the picture of an Asian girl flashed onto the screen. She wore a martial-arts uniform and had her legs firmly planted, and her arms up, as if ready to block a punch. It was clearly an action photo, and the girl's short hair was pointed upward, as though she'd just landed after jumping. “This is Park Mi Sun. Despite her youth, she is the reigning female tae kwon do champion in South Korea.”

“We are not a belligerent society,” Dr. Roop explained, “but we respect the grace and discipline to be found in martial arts from many species and their cultures. Also, we are fond of Jackie Chan films.”

I nodded appreciatively. “I just saw
Supercop
.”

“That's a good one,” Dr. Roop agreed.

Ms. Price sighed and clicked, and the image of another girl came onto the screen. This one had bronze skin, long black hair, and an oval face with sharp cheekbones, large eyes, and a dazzling smile. Her clothes suggested she was from India or Pakistan or someplace in that part of the world.

“And, finally, this is Nayana Gehlawat from Jalandhar, India. You may already know her name.”

On the other hand, I might not. “Sorry.”

“She's ranked the third best chess player in the world, though it's only a matter of time before she's number one,” Ms. Price said. “Are you sure you haven't heard of her? There was a lot of coverage in the media last year when she shot up the ranks after beating Magnus Carlsen.”

I shrugged. “I got an Xbox last year, so I was sort of distracted.”

Ms. Price clicked her remote, and the screen rose and the lights came back up. “And there you have it,” she said. “If you agree to go, those are going to be the only human beings you'll have contact with for the coming year. Besides me, that is.” A normal person would have smiled after saying this. Ms. Price tapped her nails on her desk.

I, meanwhile, was considering the implications of what I had learned. That sinking feeling in my gut was all too familiar. Normally I'd swallow my pride and keep my head down, but that didn't seem like an option here. I had to say what was on my mind.

“Those guys are really impressive,” I said. “They have all these amazing skills. Best chess player in the world? I don't have anything like that. Why am I even here?”

“Your confusion is understandable,” Dr. Roop said gently. “Let me explain. The selection committee chooses from each world three beings they believe have the best chance of success in the Confederation. However, we do not want to bias the process by selecting only particular representatives who match our ideals, since it is never wise to evaluate a species based only on extraordinary individuals. Consequently, there is always a fourth being chosen at random, one picked from a somewhat contoured pool, but still a more or less blind choice.”

“Somewhat contoured?” I said. “What does that mean?”

“In this case, as your species conforms to the quite popular male-female gender split, we wanted to balance things out with a second male,” Dr. Roop said. “Also, because yours is the most culturally dominant nation on your world, and it had not yet
been represented, we felt it was prudent to pick an American. Or a Canadian. We don't understand the difference.”

“So,” I said, “my name was pulled from a hat of twelve-year-old North American boys.”

“Eleven to thirteen, but yes,” said Dr. Roop.

“And there's nothing about me to make anyone, anywhere, think that I have a better chance of success than any other boy my age?”

“Initially, yes,” Ms. Price said, looking at me through narrowed eyes, as if to suggest she had been steadily revising her estimation downward.

“And this healing technology you mentioned,” I said. “What if I made helping my mother a condition of my going?”

Ms. Price rolled her eyes.
That again.

“I wish I could offer such an incentive,” Dr. Roop said. “Were it my choice, I would happily provide your mother with the aid she needs, but our laws preclude any technological or medical assistance to species that haven't gone through the evaluation.”

I didn't think there was much to be gained by asking him to violate the Prime Directive. I knew what I had to do, so I stood up and looked at them both.

“I am really flattered,” I said. “I can't believe what I've seen and learned here. This is, without a doubt, the most incredible day of my life. But I'm going to have to take a pass.”

“What?” cried Ms. Price. “Sit down!”

“Sorry,” I said. “I'm out. Can someone drive me home?”

CHAPTER FIVE

I
was not chickening out. Not really.

Sure, I was afraid. Terrified. I was going full coward on this. It's one thing to daydream, as we all have, about going off in a spaceship and having amazing adventures with a giraffe in a business suit, but when the dapper giraffe shows up and is ready to whisk you off to the stars, I think it's perfectly reasonable to want to crawl into the fetal position.

Even so, fear was not calling the shots. If all other things had been equal, I don't think excitement would have had any problem beating out terror. I was not about to miss out on new life and new civilizations simply because the thought of
leaving the planet
made me want to wet my pants.

I was backing out because I wasn't up to the task. My mom was dying, and she was going to die about the worst death imaginable. If the right person went and convinced the aliens that the human race was worthy, we would get advanced alien medical knowledge, and my mother would get to live. I didn't want to miss out on the time she had left, but more importantly, I couldn't risk messing things up. I would pass on the adventure of a lifetime and let someone halfway competent take my place.

•   •   •

Dr. Roop stood up and actually blocked my way. He looked down from his eight-foot vantage, and held out his long arms so
I couldn't pass. Apparently, he was taking no chances. “I don't think you understand.”

“I understand perfectly,” I said. “Dr. Roop, I really, really appreciate this offer, and you have no idea how much I want to go, but I'm not your guy. I'm completely average. I can't fight or play champion-level chess or do math or any of that stuff. I have nothing to contribute. You're better off getting someone else.”

“There
is
no one else,” Dr. Roop said, lowering his arms. The dramatic gesture had apparently run its course. “This is how the process works. The decision of the selection committee is final, and it has to be that way.”

“Trust me,” said Ms. Price without bothering to look up from her computer. “They won't budge on this point.”

“We've learned from experience that nations will go to war to get more of their own people in the initiate delegation,” Dr. Roop explained. “The only way to make the process successful and peaceful is to render it immutable.”

“So if I don't go, humanity is one man short?”

Dr. Roop cocked his head and looked at me with his big yellow eyes, which appeared sad. “If you don't go, Zeke, humanity is out of the running. We'll try again in sixty years, but if we can't recruit the delegation selected by the committee, then there is no delegation.”

I stood there, speechless.

“I know you are thinking about your mother,” Dr. Roop said. “If you want her to have a chance at being cured, you must agree to participate.”

That changed the scenario. I nodded and sat my butt back down. Ms. Price continued typing away on her laptop. A glance
at her screen told me she was using my time of personal crisis, my moment to make a decision that would affect all of humanity, to catch up on her e-mail.

•   •   •

I had so many questions, I hardly even knew where to begin.

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as you are ready,” said Ms. Price, looking up. “The other candidates began meeting with their governments three days ago. They have all agreed to participate. At this point, we are waiting for you.”

They met three days ago. “You tried to get someone else too. That's how you know you can't change their minds.”

Ms. Price did that thing that, for government employees, stood in for a smile. She blinked and pursed her lips. “We had hoped to put our best foot forward.”

“But I'm the foot you're stuck with.”

“We are delighted that an American citizen will be part of this delegation,” she assured me.

“I can understand why you might feel inadequate,” Dr. Roop said, “but random participants often become not simply a part of the team, but major contributors.”

“I get it,” I said, having had enough of the pep talk. I was the resident loser. That's how it was, so time to move on. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Ah,” said Dr. Roop, sitting taller in his chair now that we'd moved beyond my protests. “You will be based for the year on Confederation Central, a massive space station more or less in the center of our territory, and the capital city of our civilization. It is the seat of government, home to several of our finest universities, and has some of the best museums in the galaxy. Approximately
twelve million beings are aboard at any given time.”

“So it's like
Babylon 5
,” I said.

“Yes and no,” Dr. Roop said without missing a beat. “The station was not built for the purpose it currently serves. In fact, we did not build it at all, but rather inherited it from a species of beings who lived long before us. We call them the Formers.”

“So the station is like the Citadel from
Mass Effect
, and these Formers are like the Protheans?”

“Best foot forward,” Miss Price said, clearly irritated by my dorking out.

Dr. Roop held up a hand. “No, no, Ms. Price. As I explained, these narratives are, in part, the result of our influence, and Zeke's familiarity with them may prove a genuine advantage.” He turned to me. “I feel certain you must have noticed that my appearance is similar to a creature from your own planet. I am said to resemble a gorilla, yes?”

“Giraffe,” I corrected.

“That's right. You are the one who resembles the gorilla. But you must think it rather an odd coincidence that I should so closely resemble an Earth creature.”

“Yes, but given everything else that's going on, I didn't see the point in bringing it up.” I had read, and been disappointed to learn, that most scientists believed any alien intelligence we might encounter would be so different that communication would likely be impossible. It was the height of self-absorption and fantasy, such theories said, to presume other planets would evolve species that were more or less the same as us. I guess they got that wrong.

“There are hundreds of planets in the Confederation, but thousands upon thousands of inhabited planets in our galaxy,” Dr.
Roop said. “We believe that most, if not all, of these worlds—indeed, the systems in which the worlds are located—were partially or entirely altered by the Formers so that they could sustain life. These planets are all approximately the same size and have similar rotation cycles, atmospheres, climate types, and so on. More than that, the same seed stock of genetic material was deposited on each of these planets.”

Here I could have mentioned the Preservers from
Star Trek
or the Ancients from
Stargate
. Come to think of it, I could have mentioned my father's show,
Colony Alpha
, which also featured a mysterious precursor race that had left behind valuable technology. Much of the show revolved around the two warring factions' efforts to find and understand ancient artifacts while the last of Earth's population, located on an isolated colony planet, found itself in the middle. I demonstrated wisdom and restraint by holding my tongue.

“Life develops in somewhat similar patterns on many different worlds,” Dr. Roop continued. “You will see dozens of alien species on Confederation Central, a majority of them bipeds of approximately four to eight feet in height. This seems to be the direction in which the Formers wished us to evolve. You will see sentient races that look like animals from your world. On some worlds there are likely animals that look like human beings.”

“Let's not belabor this point,” Ms. Price said, moving her hand in a circular
let's go
motion.

“It is always a good time to learn,” Dr. Roop said. “Don't you agree, Ms. Price?”

“I work for the government,” she answered, “so, no, I don't agree. Let's talk logistics.”

“Very well. To remain on schedule, we would like to leave in two days. By that time, you should be aboard our orbiting spacecraft. That ship will take us to rendezvous with the delegates from one of the other applying species, and then we will go to Confederation Central, where you will attempt to demonstrate your species' ability to thrive within our society.”

“And how will I do that?” I asked, already sure I was going to fail miserably at whatever they wanted me to do.

“We will explain in due course. You need not concern yourself just yet.”

“And can all four species become part of the Confederation,” I asked, “or just one of us?”

“Sometimes all four groups succeed. Sometimes none do. You are competing against yourselves, not one another. Any other questions?”

“Yeah,” I said. “How does space travel work? Most of the stuff I've read says that faster-than-light travel is impossible.”

“I shall spare you the details,” said Dr. Roop. “You only need to know that we travel outside relativistic space, so there are no problems with time dilation, if that was your question.”

“I'm pretty sure what you're saying is beyond his concerns,” Ms. Price said.

As it happens, that
was
my nerdy concern. I had a pretty good layman's understanding of this stuff. According to Einstein, as you approach the speed of light, you not only require exponentially more energy as you acquire more mass, but you also experience the flow of time differently than the universe around you. The closer you get to light speed, the more the variance between the vessel and everything else outside it, so at high speeds a trip that only takes a few months for the crew of a
ship would happen over centuries for everyone else. I was glad to hear that these Confederation guys had found a way around that problem.

“And this is all safe?”

“There are risks, of course,” Dr. Roop said, “but our safety record is significantly better than that of your auto travel on this planet, and superior even to your own aviation travel.”

That was all good to know, but no matter how safe it was, my mother was not going to like the idea of me going off into space.

Apparently reading my mind, Ms. Price handed me a file containing an alarmingly thick document.

“What's this?” I asked.

“That,” she said, “is a permission slip.”