THE NEXT MORNING WHEN he arose, Peter grabbed his phone to check the news then darted into the studio to view the various feeds. He texted.

Peter: “Molli, Ears. CNN on?”

Ears: “One of many.”

Molli: “Not now. At work.”

Peter: “Holy crap. Almost afraid to go out on streets, but I have lunch today with pod friends. Either of you been out on Square?”

Ears: “Not me. Don’t want or need. My network’s going nuts.”

Molli: “Must get back to work. Sorry. Can’t. Will catch up after I’m off. Bye.”

Peter: “Seeing what I’m seeing?”

Ears: “Yes. Stop texting for a minute, must watch.”

The Canadian Prime Minister looked nervous. Surrounding her was a bevy of Canadian military brass.

“Looks like a Mountie sandwich,” Peter chuckled.

He turned up the volume, and the Prime Minister began speaking, her voice quivering.

“I am speaking today as the political leader of Canada but also as a citizen of the world. As many of you are aware, two days ago we encountered a meteorite streaking across the sky in the province of Saskatchewan, 112 kilometers, or 70 miles, east of Saskatoon, between the towns of Lanigan, Burr, and Leroy. We received multiple reports of shattered windows and other effects to property and livestock. The projectile entered the atmosphere at supersonic speeds, causing sonic blasts across a wide portion of the area. No human casualties have been reported.”

Peter: “What about cows? Aliens? Notice the word projectile? Wow!”

Ears did not reply.

The Prime Minister visibly trembled.

“We considered,” she confided, “keeping this news under wraps until we had time to further assess what happened. However, as many of you know, we were late in doing that given widespread photographic evidence on the Internet. That was no criminal act, by the way. Anybody might do the same when discovering such a momentous thing.”

She looked around as if to gain confidence from the others to continue.

“As Canada’s representatives, we will provide you with all the information available at this time. To start, I must point out that the extensive array of global telescopes and satellites scanning the stars have found multiple instances of what we might consider as sentient life elsewhere, such as suspected Dyson spheres and fast radio bursts, albeit we have no conclusive evidence of intelligent life like our own. It should come as no shock of the possibility, however great or small, of intelligent species existing throughout the universe, especially since we know many planets have been discovered that exhibit all the characteristics of living ecosystems.”

She paused, taking a measured breath. “Based on our initial analyses, we surmise the projectile and supporting structures that impacted our province are from a non-earthly, intelligent source. I am no scientist, but I have now seen firsthand what is known commonly as the obelisk, and I take this to be true. To brief you on details, I am joined by Hally Gerard, Canada’s Chief Science Advisor.”

“Geez,” Peter mumbled, “sounds pretty freaking real.”

A petite, well-dressed elderly woman strode to the podium and searched around for a step. In the haste of setting up the press conference, nobody considered that she might not be able to see above the podium. Frustrated, the woman grabbed the microphone from its stand and stood upright before the crowd of reporters, without the podium’s protection. She spoke in a deep, hoarse voice.

“People who know me say I’m a straight shooter, and I don’t recall the last time I cared overly much for how I came across. I will advise you precisely on what we know thus far.”

A high-resolution picture of the obelisk displayed on the screen directly above the woman, appearing as if it might topple over and crush her.

“The obelisk consists of eighty tons of gold and platinum alloy at a purity level beyond our known capacity of refinement. It was found buried in mud on farmland east of Saskatoon. Despite the impact, it shows no apparent damage. We believe the obelisk ejected from its shell just before that carbon-based superstructure hit the ground.”

She wiped away the perspiration forming above her lip.

“We continue to find fragments of that superstructure throughout the impact area, much of it buried in a series of multiple small craters. It’s as if the superstructure broke apart at high speed a few meters above the Earth’s surface, allowing the obelisk to avoid damage.”

“Get to it, get to the point!” Ears complained.

She held up a jagged piece of a black, plastic-like substance. “This is one specimen of the shell or casing. Tests show a composition of tantalum hafnium carbide, similar in chemical makeup to carbides used in various industrial applications. However, this advanced carbide displays none of the oxidation issues experienced thus far in our industrial applications.”

The lady dusted a speck from her blue coat top and glanced to her right for a verbal cue from the Prime Minister, who gave her a quick nod.

“I will provide additional context before going further. I had conversations these last hours with numerous global experts in astronomy and physics. They reminded me how vast the universe is, how difficult interstellar space travel is likely to be, and of the minute likelihood that any interstellar-venturing species would care to visit other populated worlds. Such advanced creatures should possess their own methods of inhabiting any rock in space for long periods, irrespective of the initial compatibility of a planet’s environment. Indeed, we are making considerable progress ourselves on technology to do the same.”

She looked again at the Prime Minister. It was obvious she was uncomfortable delivering this message. The Prime Minister walked over and stood erect to the left of the scientist, placing her arm around the woman. At this sight, both Ears and Peter had tears in their eyes.

“As a scientist,” she insisted, “I find it hard to fear anything. We are a race of beings, strong-headed, and we have been through much together. By walking in harmony, we can overcome any challenge. In this context, I must inform you about the interpretations of the obelisk thus far. I will not display a host of photographs now, as the Internet has preceded me with those, and I assume other images will soon leak out. We don’t intend to alarm, but we do want to inform, and openness is a virtue.”

The Prime Minister’s fingers whitened as she tightened her grip on the woman’s shoulder. “The obelisk displays no letters or words. In the single image shown on your screen, it contains inscriptions or glyphs.”

She paused to take a deep breath. “Global expert opinions on these glyphs are nearly unanimous. We have determined the obelisk is an intentional message from a race of beings that were either under invasion or were invading another planet.”

Her heavy breath was pouring into the microphone, and sweat was dripping down her forehead.

“Again, putting this in context, the obelisk appears to be an instrument of warning. However, I and the scientific community must remind you, and I speak on behalf of many of them. It is the highest likelihood the obelisk traveled for eons, many millions if not billions of years through space, perhaps from a civilization that lived and died out long ago. As the Prime Minister indicated, we have been scanning the stars for many decades now, and we find nothing within hundreds of light-years of Earth that looks like intelligent life. Prime Minister?”

She handed the microphone over and the Prime Minister concluded.

“We agonized over the last hours about how to expose this to the public. Our work included consultations with experts from the sciences, sociology, psychology, law enforcement, the military, and allies, among others. We concluded speculation is more dangerous than truth. In a very Canadian fashion, you just received the truth, to the extent we are aware. We urge the people of Earth to respond peaceably to this news. Centuries from now, we will look back at this day and realize that our ethnocentric perspective of assuming we were the only beings in this vast universe was exactly that – ethnocentric.”

The Prime Minister excused the woman, who stepped back and disappeared behind a Mountie.

“Prior to our announcement, we apprised governments and law enforcement around the world. They collectively request that all citizens on this planet, across all countries, keep our wits and focus on the best outcomes. We learned something these last few days – that we are not alone. We should take it no further, and anyone troubled by this news should seek counseling from their family, community, social, political and law enforcement leaders. Thank you.”

Peter: “My heart’s beating out of my chest!”

Ears: “OMG, OMG, OMG. We’re being invaded!”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Peter: “Dude, kidding? Interstellar space? Earth ain’t that desirable or great given our collective stupidity.”

Ears: “I like its greatness. GTG. Geedee comms are bouncing off the walls.”

Peter kicked back in his chair. “I need my poor old dog here,” he mused. “What a time for her to die. Even me, the happy-go-lucky science guy. Disconcerting, and I sorely miss the girl. Oh yeah, I wonder if we’re still on for lunch after this news?”

Peter texted his two friends who both confirmed to meet at the burger cottage, his favorite hangout by the Square. He could hardly wait.

* * *

“Dudes!” he trumpeted, fist-bumping his pals as he sat at the table. “Thanks for getting here early, especially today given the line at the door. I wondered if they might close the place down after that Canadian debacle. Never seen it this busy. Like the news is out and everybody is freed of the weight. It was a ghost town here yesterday.”

His friend Ravi looked at him with a sly grin.

“Been online or spoken with anyone? I wouldn’t use the word you used. ‘Fried’ perhaps, but not ‘freed.’”

Robert set his menu down and added, “You can’t be serious, Peter. The world has literally gone off its nut. What are these people around us discussing? Just listen. As much as I don’t like to say this, I wish I owned a gun store right now. People assume we’ll be invaded, and they plan to use a lead and gunpowder-based projectile to penetrate the shields of God knows what space aliens. If it weren’t so sad, it’d be funny.”

Peter removed his blue Red Sox hat and placed it on his knee. “Water, guys? Molli is trying to convince me to cut-out sugar.”

“You can ingest as much sugar as you want,” Robert insisted. “In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if the entire planet starts going hog-wild on hedonistic personal binges. You can’t blame us. And I don’t get this Molli thing. Why don’t you two just hook-up permanently?”

He threw his hands back. “Oh, you got that wrong. All wrong. If you recall, she’s coupled and has been that way for a few years. He’s not the best dude and clearly far below her grade, but I can’t say it to her face. Musician amor, I guess. She needs to resolve that one herself.”

“Hmm,” Ravi hinted, “you two seem well-suited. How’s the podcast?”

“Ah, it’s going okay,” Peter shrugged, peering into a menu he knew too well. “The numbers are down slightly, so we’re changing the format.”

“Some risk in alienating your audience, no?”

“Yeah, we factored that in, but we’re moving more towards science apps, even into the geedee scene,” Peter replied.

“A dance with freaks, not that I would call them that to their faces,” Ravi divulged, looking around the restaurant to see if he might offend anyone in earshot. “Seen the latest? I mean, we’re getting Freak Zone stuff. I’m finding many more hybrid human-animal varints, and that’s just not right. Humans shouldn’t be sporting a donkey’s ass. I understand free expression, but are you really going to hire a guy with a tail into your consulting firm? How do you fit him with a decent suit? And do you hammer the shoes onto his feet?” he laughed.

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, I get it. Hard to understand the variety of varints and where it’s going, but the cat’s out of the proverbial bag, or donkey in this case. Think about it though, since stuff like this started long before the varints arrived on the scene. My parents used to talk about how odd it was when young workers joined their businesses covered with tattoos and piercings and body paraphernalia. I don’t see much difference in having a tail versus a tattoo – only a different mode of expression.”

“I can appreciate that,” Ravi agreed. “You know my girlfriend is a chipper, so I can’t complain too loudly. But extremes seem to be the norm lately, and variations are far out on the edge of acceptability.”

Robert put his menu down and interjected with a grin. “With her as a chipper, what does this add to your relationship?”

“I hardly notice,” Ravi replied. “It’s not like she’s storing the Library of Congress up there. She mostly uses it for accessing information, no different than if she wore auggies. If she’s not in range of Wi-Fi or cellular, then she’s just her normal self. When she is in range, she’s gotten good about balancing the loads back and forth between her chips and the network, and whatever else it is that the rest of her brain is dealing with in the non-virtual world.”

“You mean the real world?” Peter joked.

“Yeah, I suppose. Honestly, growing up as a kid with VR and AR games, interacting with both machines and AI systems and people, it’s just a part of the tech. That’s why I don’t mind when she’s doing her comms thing with whatever source. It isn’t like she doesn’t share something interesting. Think of it this way – ask a question, and she’s got the answer in an instant – no auggie glasses, no cellphone, nothing but her chips. That’s a good add to the being, if you ask me.”

Peter chided, “And how do you know she’s not communicating with a handsome Indian guy on the continent, someone who wants to learn colloquial English, Boston-style. The dude’s probably wondering how he can get to the states to marry her for that easier ticket to citizenship”

Ravi laughed. “Oh, I’m not too worried. She’s not into marriage, she’s not into other guys, and I’m more than enough Indian male for her to handle.”

Robert pointed to the waiter. “Three waters? Also, one Coke.”

“Two Cokes,” Peter countered with a smirk.

“At least she’s not a gripper, or not there yet,” Robert warned.

“Nah. She likes the chips and knows how to work them. In her job, she has no need for other physical augmentations. She’s not outdoors laying red bricks in a new high rise and requires the body assist. She’s a mental therapist, you know. I’m sure she’d like to add either of you as new clients since you both have lots of issues,” he chided.

“After this week, I’ll need more than a therapist. Enough is happening to make anyone crazy. I can only imagine how many poor varints she sees each day. I mean, just scan the streets,” Peter observed.

Robert took a drink from his glass. “I have no issues with any of them. I confess that grippers are scarier, like the heavy mechs I’m seeing who are more robot than human. The change is way too fast, guys, but the same goes for clippers and anyone who is augmenting their body to make it stronger or faster. You saw the guy downtown cut in literal half by that mech’s robotic arm? A traffic altercation or something? Doesn’t make you want to befriend someone like that.”

“Maybe so, maybe not,” Ravi asserted. “How different would that be from a regular guy who had a gun hidden in his glove compartment? With a gripper, at least you can sometimes see how they’re augmented. A jerk with a hidden gun is much more dangerous, I’d think.”

Peter nodded. “Like you said, Robert, we’re growing accustomed to change so fast, and things are moving faster. Maybe it’s the ivy schools nearby. I doubt Podunk, Iowa is like this town – or it might be more intense there. Consider the benefits of being a gripper on the farm, grabbing two bales of hay at once. But either way, it boggles the mind, and I’m the science guy saying this!”

The waitress arrived, and they ordered their food.

“Ravi, what do you think of the news?” Peter wondered.

“I’d call it a hoax. Shouldn’t affect my podcast since it’s all about math. Could be there’s an implication to the atmospheric entry trajectory, or size and perfection of the obelisk itself, or even the alloys or carbon casing that could expose whether it’s real or fake. I don’t give a whole hill of beans on the topic. No alien should want to mow us down or enslave us and take over Earth as so many sci-fi movies imply. And even if that was true, maybe the planet being attacked provoked the other. Worse yet, we’ll never know for sure. They’ll haul this metal away to a bunker, and we’ll never see it again. They’ll see the social disruption it causes and tell us it was a Russian plot to destabilize the world. You can’t put it past those Ruskies, given the crap they’ve pulled with global elections and regional instability in the last few decades. I can’t believe we let them get away with their global turmoil antics scot-free.”

“Or,” Robert added, “they’ll put the thing on display in the Smithsonian or Canada’s equivalent of that, and it’ll become a huge tourist draw. Mars rocks were cool when we first got them, so can you imagine seeing this thing? They’ll show it right next to King Tut’s mask. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past somebody to link the obelisk to the boy king himself!”

At that moment, Peter jumped up from his chair to pull a vibrating cellphone from his back pocket.

“Hey guys, I’m getting a call. Too noisy in here. Got to bolt outside for a minute.”

He jostled through the line into the restaurant and stumbled to a corner where he could talk privately.

“This is Peter.”

“Peter, this is Reverend Storm. Jeremiah Storm.”

“You’re joking. The TV preacher?”

“Yes sir, you’ve got that right,” he declared with an extended Southern twang. “You may not surmise this, but I have been a listener of your podcast from the start. Love that science. Can I make a request?”

“Sure,” Peter replied, surprised at the call and wondering how any of his listeners might have gotten his cellphone number. “Um, I stepped outside from lunch with my friends, so I’ll need to get back in a minute.”

“This won’t take but that,” the Reverend assured him.

“Okay, then. What’s up?”

“As an avid listener and lover of science, I’m requesting to appear on your show. You indicated someone was already scheduled for next Wednesday, but maybe I could add-on to the tail end of that interview since I’ll be right there in Cambridge for a divinity conference.”

“Oh. Yes, she fell out, unfortunately. The Lady was from SETI and may have been pulled for this obelisk analysis.”

“Sorry to hear, but that’s exactly the reason I’d care to speak on your podcast.”

Peter was wondering how to handle this. Up to this moment, his podcast was pure science. He could barely recall a single reference to religion in the last four years.

“What would you want to discuss in regard to science?”

“Science and religion are often at odds with each other, and this brings them closer. Do you see my point?”

“Hadn’t considered it,” Peter confided.

“I have been contemplating this for a long time. The fact that we on this planet are not unique, that God’s an amazing fellow, and his creativity must be universal.”

“Yeah, but my audience leans more to the irreligious side, I’d surmise. I’m not sure they’ll go for preaching or proselytizing.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on doing any of that. What I intend on saying is that we should not fear this. These beings are likely so superior that any resistance we’d provide would be laughable to them, and the best response is one that welcomes them.”

“Well,” Peter explained, “I’ll speak with my producer and scheduler. She runs the show. I’m just the talent.” Peter laughed at the remark but noticed the Reverend did not.

“Do you perceive any immediate objections?”

“The idea is too new for me to assess on the spot. I’m not a committed atheist or anything, and I do see a connection with the direction we’re taking lately to edgier stuff. From a science perspective, though, this may be beyond that edge. Text me your contact info and I’ll get back to you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m betting you’ll be positive on this possibility once considered. Enjoy your day, son.”

Peter was slightly put-off by the Southern friendliness. His experience growing up in Boston had prepared him for the harsh realities of hucksters always weaving stories to their advantage, whether a fishmonger at the market or annoying real estate salesperson appearing uninvited at his house, despite the warning sign posted at his front door. Yet it made initial sense, and his concerns about this topic as being too far from his charter were mitigated by the idea that the world needed to consider all aspects of concerns the obelisk might represent.

After saying goodbye to his friends at the restaurant, he arrived at his house in late afternoon and caught Molli between jobs.

Peter: “Call from Reverend Jeremiah Storm. THAT Reverend.”

Molli: “And?”

Peter: “Avid fan. Wants to come on the show.”

Molli: “A PhD in what area of science?”

Peter: “Divinity, I’d say.”

Molli: “Not a science. An art at best.”

Peter: “I’m sure his PhD says Doctor of Divinity Science.”

Molli: “Ha ha ha. Serious? I’m busy.”

Peter: “Anybody else yet?”

Molli: “Ears is working it, but nobody yet for Weds.”

Peter: “I say we do it.”

Molli: “It’s your podcast and listeners, bub.”

Peter: “OUR podcast and listeners. We’ll get thru it together.”

Molli: “You sound like a marriage counselor. Whatever. GTG.”

Peter messaged Ears to tell him a preacher would be on the next show. Despite the objections, Ears was too busy working on Molli’s behalf to schedule speakers for the upcoming weeks. Not having to worry about the Wednesday show was a relief to all.