"Today's issues are light, we have a proposition on new mercenary policing contract rules and stipulations, better brace yourself, that one's thick. We've got an experimental new protein growth formula seeking to start initial trials, promises new, better-tasting steak. There's also an addendum concerning decorative horticulture in park spaces up for review. Finally, a go/no-go for the new cargo terminal that's been worked through the last few weeks, finally, I thought we'd never finish debating that one! Remember your Due Diligence folks!"
---
Mark woke as he almost always did, to the sound of a newscaster rattling off the Issues of the day. Only four today was light indeed, normally there were at least seven to go over. Everyone must have been worn out over the new cargo terminal negotiations. That had been a doozy.
"Sam, could you handle the votes this morning? I need a coffee. Put the merc contract on my shortlist for the evening, I'm saying yes to the new protein formula, I could not care less about the green spaces so put me as abstain, and I'm saying go for the terminal. It'll lighten the load on Bay 14. If I have to hear another goddamn tug roar past my window I'm gonna scream." He rattled off, exhaustion dripping from his voice.
"Sure thing Mark," a perky feminine voice replied. "Wow, they weren't kidding, this mercenary document is 300 pages of legalese. Votes are running now, that protein is gonna pass, it's already got a 60% yes. 90% abstain for the park hedges, yeesh. The terminal is sitting at 51-49, gonna be a tight one. I for one agree with you on the terminal, but I gotta disagree with the protein, the new process they're advocating takes more than twice as much energy. All that for some marginally better steaks is not worth it."
"You say that, but you don't ever have to worry about how they taste." he chortled back. "Besides, it's a couple of gigawatts a year total, no one will even notice it, you especially."
"Shut up, I have to deal with you whining about the steak being "wrong" and that's just as bad." the AI companion retorted.
"Fair enough. What's on the agenda today?" Mark asked.
"We've got a quick check on hydroponics pod 4-12-6 that got kicked to us because our schedule was empty. Apparently, some cameras are fogging up a bunch in some of the crawlspaces, and that's literally next door, the new hydrophobic spray is in the door-box. Next we have a lunch with the folks, cant put this one off anymore Mark." Sam's voice left no room for argument.
"Alright, alright. As long as it's brief, you know mom likes to talk for hours." Came the exasperated reply.
"Finally we have a two-hour stint in the analysis lab, followed by an hour for reading that mercenary document. Then we're free for the rest of the day, should be about 4 pm. It'd be sooner if you didn't sleep in until 10 am."
"Yes, mom I spent too much time awake last night."
"Stop whining and let's get those lenses swabbed."
Mark set out after his much-needed coffee, grabbed the bright blue spray bottle and cloth in the packages box next to his door and set out for the short walk to the hydroponics pod.
"You know, this would be way easier if people had accepted my suggestion that we just make some crawler bots small enough fo fit in the vents. My prototype was flawless." Sam practically smirked the thought out, which was impressive considering it was all quite literally in Mark's head.
"Hush you, they literally sounded like a tornado going through the vents. You can turn off your audio, we fleshies don't have the same option, and I like to sleep at night." came the retort
"Details, details."
As their destination was only a minute's walk away they arrived quickly, with Mark leaning down to read the vent labels, looking for the correct one.
"Other side of the room Mark. Left, no, too far. There ya go!" Sam cheered.
"I swear you are the worst sometimes. You could have just highlighted it." Mark huffed.
"Oh you know you love me."
"You make it pretty tough sometimes."
"Did you just call me pretty? Why I do believe you did!"
"Shush."
Tugging firmly on the vent caused it to pop open, revealing a damp crawlspace filled with water lines and pipes. A slight drip could be seen coming from one of the rubber hoses.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"Well, there's the issue. I guess the cameras didn't catch it before fogging up. We got any patch-glue left?" Mark requested.
"Yeah, enough for now, we're gonna need a refill soonish though. The water hoses are starting to wear out and need to be recycled this year." Sam noted.
"Shoot a report off, I'm sure it'll be a vote tomorrow for the budget. This whole damn pod is outdated and needs to be recycled. The newer ones are way more efficient. Just uglier."
"Done," Sam said as Mark brought up his left hand and twisted it open, revealing an array of minuscule tools. He brought up the adhesive applicator and after wiping off the water, applied it to the hose. That finished he turned, wiped the water off the two camera housings, and sprayed the hydrophobic coating onto them.
"Alrighty, that's done. Time to go get dressed and face the music. Mom's not still pissed I broke up with Sandy, is she? I know she liked her, but we just did not work." Mark questioned.
"Oh yeah, she be mad dude. Mainly that you didn't tell her about it beforehand though. She heard it through aunt Christie."
"Well fuck me then. Guess I'll go get my tongue lashing."
And he did.
---
Three hours later, suitably chastised for not ever confiding in his irredeemable gossip of a mother, Mark made his way over to the Analysis Lab nearest him, hopping on the rail at the station a few blocks away from his mother's apartment.
"What are we set to look at today Sam?"
"Radio echoes, as per the norm. Apparently, Frederick tagged this batch as needing human review. No idea why, that old stuffy bot can make deductions like crazy."
"C'mon Sam, you know you aren't as good at this shit as a human. You can do the math that makes my head spin, but this kind of thing needs a fleshy person to verify."
The train sped up as it zoomed down the rail, passing a lounge showing off the beauty of their home, a perfect panorama of Pluto and Charon, linked by a massive wireframe tapered cylinder.
"That view never gets old." Mark wistfully commented.
"No, it doesn't."
All too soon they had arrived, the train slowing to a stop with incredible speed. They hopped off and headed down the hall to the large door labeled "Analysis", passing it and entering the more reasonably sized door next to it.
"Alright Frederick, what've ya got for us today? Potential new Oort Cloud objects? Maybe a snazzy new comet for us to name? Freaky solar flares heralding our imminent doom?" Mark asked the empty room.
"Mark, Samantha, potentially a new Oort cloud object, potentially a piece of old debris, potentially a wildcatter colony, I am unable to determine any closer. It is exceedingly strange for a radio echo." a clinical and neutrally accented voice replied, the sound coming from all corners of the room.
"Ooh, nifty! A real puzzle! Lemme see those readings!"
"Chill Sam, if Frederick couldn't make heads or tails of them what do you expect to find?" Mark chided.
"Something cool and new you killjoy. If you take this from me I will filter your blood so you can never get drunk again." She fired back.
"Ok, ok, have at it!"
"Perhaps a tempered evaluation would be more helpful." Frederick cut in. He never had learned to respect privacy.
With that, an array of graphs and charts popped into the air surrounding Mark. Frederick had been right, this looked to be radiation bouncing off of a large, metallic and possibly geometrically regular object at a glance, but some things didn't add up. When it would be expected to repeat it looked different, and it seemed nearly stationary, which should not have been the case at all for an Oort Cloud object. It did appear to be repeating, but it was off, and Mark was having an issue pinning down why it seemed that way to him.
"Sam, what've you got?"
"I have no idea, it's like I know something is off, but can't pin it down. It looks like it's one thing until I see it's not, then it looks like something else until I realize it's not. This is very uncomfortable to see." Sam sounded genuinely confused, a rare occurrence.
Mark resumed studying the data, flipping it around in his mind, trying to see what it was trying to show him when it clicked.
"It's a coded transmission. I don't get it though. It's like someone made a three-dimensional object with radio transmissions. That's not how this works. It's like a goddamn radio hologram, all broadcast on a radio frequency we would see. I don't understand how they did that." He stared at the floating charts, confusion evident.
"OH MY GOD!" Sam shouted out, "It's PRIME NUMBERS! It's in base six, then base eight, then base ten, then twelve! Then it's gone! Frederick, where did this come from?"
"It came from supposedly empty space, I can find no stars within a 2000 lightyear line that could be its origin." Came the reply, sounding genuinely crestfallen.
"Frederick... Parallax. The visible stars would have moved to us before this got here!" Mark shouted out, AI may be brilliant, but sometimes they missed the simplest things.
"Taking that into account there are 34 potential origin points. Narrowing to account for signal decay leaves us with 10."
"Account for how long humans have been beaming messages into space." Mark was excited now, if this was real it was a signal from another star. They had probes visit other stars, over a hundred systems in fact, but none had habitable planets, let alone intelligent life! The potential for expansion was never deemed worth the generations it would take to get there.
"One. That leaves us with a single potential origin star. One thousand, two hundred, and thirty-eight light-years away."
"Check flight paths through that region of space, make sure it's not some kids with a transmitter messing with us." Sam piped in.
"Nothing for the past two years, that region is, as I stated earlier, a gap in the Oort Cloud."
"Guys, I think we just found aliens!" Sam said with obvious glee in her voice.
---
The following weeks were a whirlwind of talking, studying, pouring over data, over and over. Dozens of experts from all across the system were consulted and brought in to study the message. Hundreds of thousands of forums talked about the potential aliens. Hundreds of thousands more debated how someone could possibly get there in a lifetime. Trillions of beings held their breath as they awaited a verdict. Was this real? After nearly two thousand years of reaching out into space, flinging messages in every direction, could this possibly be the first real response they had ever received?
It was.