Large arched windows cast grey, fog-tinted, sunlight onto mahogany paneled walls and antique Persian carpets. A time warp of interior design, the San Francisco office of the Longview Foundation looked every bit as if the streets below contained Model A automobiles, women wearing hats and long dresses with ruffled petticoats, and street cars with cow catchers on their fronts. A receptionist silently scribbled onto a notepad at a desk in the center of the room. Julius Ross sat in a stuffed leather chair and pondered the purpose of the appointment—not that he would ever have ignored the invitation—this was Lucius Kellogg, a man who perceived the world stage in far-reaching waves of future history, waves he often knew how to redirect. Julius knew that if he were lucky, Kellogg would redirect a wave to carry Logisen to multi-generational dominance.
The receptionist glided quietly to a place directly in front of the chair and gently requested if she could escort Mr. Ross to Mr. Kellogg’s office. Then she held the door open for him as he entered yet another dark, warm, and richly-appointed room. Kellogg sat at a large, carved desk writing with a pen in a paper notebook. His body had the heft of a mashed-potatoes-and-beef Midwesterner with jowls and a round head made to seem even more so by his balding pate.
Kellogg stood and gestured to the chair facing his desk. “Julius, I’m glad you could come.”
“It is my pleasure, Mr. Kellogg. Logisen is always interested in exploring new alliances.” He sat down when Kellogg sat, then waited patiently while Kellogg reached into his desk.
Kellogg took a coin-sized storage cell from his drawer and then returned his gaze to Julius while he turned it in his fingers. “Logisen has changed our world. With vehicles in such numbers that roads cannot accommodate them all, your management of infrastructure and transportation has saved American business from strangulation by a 24/7 traffic jam. Your AI is masterful at predicting behaviors and managing supply chains.”
“We call them Sentient Systems,” Julius added.
“And now I hear you are creating contextual profiles of one-third of the world’s population in order to better anticipate demand. Impressive that you are still hungry for growth.”
“I’m impatient with the pace of progress,” Julius responded, his expression unchanged.
Kellogg laughed. “So it must interest you that there was a highly advanced civilization on planet Mars, seemingly endowed with a powerful augmented reality control and infrastructure system.”
“It would be an understatement to say that we are curious about it.” Julius responded while wondering where Kellogg was going with his train of thought.
“A member of the Mars Habitat crew, as you know, has been able to tie into the Martian’s network. She has, seemingly, communicated with it.”
“Yes, I saw the Path of Discovery recording.”
Kellogg placed the storage cell into his tablet and turned it toward Julius. “Then you’ll be interested in this. It’s the recording no one saw.”
Julius leaned forward, then reached-out to hold the tablet. Kellogg shook his head and Julius withdrew. On the screen played the recording of Z donning the headpiece for the first time: the spasms, the moment of frenetic awareness, the frantic descriptions as Nasri batted her way around the inside of the hab. When it was over, Julius continued to stare at the blank screen, deep in thought. Something very important was happening to Nasri. After a moment, he shed light on what Kellogg had revealed. “The video shows an AI reaching into the lobes of her brain. Her eyes rolled-up: that’s the lock. The shudders: motor threshold. Within a few seconds, it ties into each area of her brain, then she starts seeing things and reacting to them.”
Kellogg took a deep breath and suggested a hypothesis he hoped would prove true. “Imagine. A device that talks to someone’s brain.”
Julius replied excitedly, “I know I can duplicate this, but their technology is an enormous leap ahead of ours. I’ll have to get my hands on a Martian headpiece when the mission returns. Whatever the Martians have done, Logisen can duplicate.”
Kellogg stirred in his chair. He was encouraged by Julius’ self-assuredness. “So you are confident you can control people like you would a bot?”
“I can’t control them. I don’t think the Martians do, either. But the headpiece would allow us to engineer their thoughts. Have you ever had an idea come to you out of the blue? It would be like that.”
“I don’t think you can get people to wear a contraption on their forehead, though.”
Julius exuded bravado. “Oh yes I can. These things already have the look: a single silver wire arcing across the forehead. It says powerful tech. It says advanced civilization… and it says ‘I’m in this group of special people.’”
Kellogg ruminated on the direction of their conversation. “If Logisen is willing to undertake the challenge, then the Longview Foundation would like to facilitate your research.”
Julius felt the rush of wide open opportunity. This was the wave he had anticipated. He slightly bowed his head to Kellogg. “And Logisen would be honored to partner with you on this.”
Kellogg chortled. “Good! Julius, I think it’s time for you to read a document titled Blue Note.”
In the autonomous on his way to the airport Julius pondered the Martians, the mission, NASA, and the government. He didn't believe for one second that the government would share everything it was learning about the civilization, or the headbands or the stones—whatever they are called. He would need a direct source, one whose self-interest could be aligned with his. He spoke to the AI. “Start tracking Commander Nasri. Any communications we can access from the mission. And I want to know where she went, with whom, and what she did for the year prior to liftoff. Extrapolate behaviors from patterns. Profile anyone she spent repeated time with and anyone with a powerful job title.”
...
Z had just sat down to check the latest communications from Mission Control. She motioned to Colin, seated at a table across the room and called to the rest of the crew, who were scattered everywhere from inside the city to far down the slope of Arsia Mons.
“Listen to this. Hang on, everyone needs to hear this. I just received a message from Pat. Listen to this. He says…
‘We have some interesting news for you and the crew. I just visited a genetics company that has analyzed the Martian's genome. They found a genetic variant that differentiates Martians from humans. And here's where it gets interesting: differentiates Martians from MOST humans. It seems that some humans have a genetic pattern—they called it a marker—that indicates Martian lineage. The company's conclusion is that Martians visited Earth in the not-too-distant past, eight to ten thousand years ago. Some stayed and mated with Earthlings.
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He was pretty confident in his findings. The company, Telomics, manufactures the test that can pick out the marker. His blog post about tracking the marker back to Mars has gone viral. Once again, Mars news is eclipsing all other topics. You can imagine the range of questions that this discovery is producing. World Media has commentary going in follow-the-sun rotation around the planet. Since Commander Nasri has been able to wear the headpiece without immediate, visible damage, NASA Administration has okayed Colin and Dunlap to attempt wearing the headpiece. Sorry, Nori and Ellis, you're considered critical for lift-off and return to Earth. You can't under any circumstances wear a headpiece, just in case there is brain damage that doesn't present immediately.
But, Elizabeth, Colin, and Dunlap, as you go about your explorations, keep an eye out for any signs that could shed light on the exploration of Earth. More to come.
Pat’”
Z looked up from the screen at Colin and could not control her reaction. She burst out laughing. “Just when we thought things were crazy enough…”
Colin looked at Z and his shoulders heaved as laughter bubbled up from his diaphragm. The sound of their laughter spread through the transmission to Dunlap, in the City, who added with a deep guffaw, “The Martians moved to a better neighborhood.” Then Noriko began to giggle and Ellis added, laughing, “And when the crew of Mars Hab 3 was asked for a comment, they responded ‘First we have to pick ourselves up off the floor.’”
...
Dunlap stopped at the door to the Chandelier Room and entered the airlock. The inner door opened; Colin and Z were already there, at the foot of the stairs. Dunlap removed his helmet and descended. Z opened a storage case and took out the first headpiece.
“Are you guys ready for this?”
“I’ll go,” Dunlap volunteered.
Z looked him in the eye. “It's going to be disorienting—even a little bit painful—for about a minute.”
Dunlap grinned. “After that your brain's too scrambled to care, right?”
“That's what everyone seems to be worried about. Here goes.” She slid the headpiece across his forehead and positioned the stones over his temples. On Dunlap's ample block of a forehead, the headpiece was a tight fit but the stones seemed to be in the right places. Being only inches away from his face, Z stared up into his eyes, waiting for the moment when the stones would take hold. She had watched the video of her own first experience and knew well the tremors and eye rolling she went through.
Dunlap stared back. Then he blinked. “Nothing's happening. Try it again.”
Z gently removed Dunlap's headpiece and switched it with another.
Colin poked at his crewmate. “I guess you have to have a functioning brain for it to work.”
Z handed the headpiece to Dunlap. “Here, you do it. Maybe you have to do it yourself.”
He put it on his forehead and placed the stones where they should be. Dunlap blinked again. “This thing's not working. Try Colin.”
Z repeated the process. Colin looked around, then took a few steps.
“Anything?”
“ Nope.”
“Give it a minute. Maybe each person is different. I'm going to put mine on.” She reached into the case, took out the last one and placed it on her forehead. Her eyes rolled up and she shuddered. In a second, her eyes came back down. Dunlap and Colin were walking in circles, looking at the floor, ceiling, walls. “Do you see anything?”
Colin shook his head. Dunlap turned to her. “No. Not a thing. You?”
“The usual: carpets, wall hangings. I see the box on the table behind the dais, even though I know it's stored in the Hab. Mostly, I just see two confused guys wandering around the room. I don't think they're Martians, but they're definitely alien.”
Dunlap pulled the headpiece off his forehead and addressed it. “So, this fucking thing shows things only to you. That sucks.” Then he turned to Z. “What do you make of that?”
“Good question. I don't know the answer.” Z walked to the door of the antechamber and stopped to take-in the space. Then, as she turned to leave, she caught her reflection in the polished wall by the doorway. An athletic, brown-skinned woman, wearing a headpiece and facing an unknown future—a reflection that looked oddly similar to the Martian woman in the mural.
She looked over at her crew. “How will we ever understand these people?”
Dunlap placed his headpiece back in the protective case. “It's not our job. Sorry, Z. That's for the next crew.”
...
It had carefully watched Z’s fruitless experiment with the headpieces. “She tried to share power with the Blue Planet people? Generous. I'm encouraged that some of our ways have survived. Maybe their leader is ready.”
...
The report had come from Elizabeth that the headpieces had not worked on Dunlap and Colin. A perplexing revelation, it was also a complication: Dixxon had hoped that having more help would speed the exploration and preparations for the next mission. The team would still do their work, but Z would be the only one who could decipher the workings of the city.
Why could only Z use the headpieces? Patrick pondered as he sat in his office. What if Z was just plain crazy and making this all up? What if she'd discovered the Elder on an earlier sortie and then made-up the visions? What if the headpieces are just jewelry? What if the city is haunted? He pulled out his tablet and started plotting words on the screen: Deception. Visions. Crazy. Haunted. He reminded himself that the obvious explanation is the one most likely to be true. Then he laughed, none of the explanations he'd put down were anything but crazy, themselves. But the obvious one not on his screen was that Z is telling the truth and the headpieces work on her, but they don't work on other Earthlings... Suddenly, Patrick knew. He dialed a number.
“Hello, Sefa? Can you guys do a favor for us? I'm going to send you the gene maps of the Mars Hab crew.”
It took Sefa only an hour to do the work—and that was more a problem of scheduling the right equipment than actual analysis. He knew what to look for, and there he found the answer Patrick had guessed at: Nasri positive; everyone else, negative.
Back in the Administrator's office, Patrick shared the results.
“Maybe there is something to this Martian variant, after all,” Sharp responded.
“We'll know, for sure, once Tanaka tries the headpiece.”
“She's not going to try the headpiece,” the Administrator growled. “We don’t need to risk other people. This explanation fits what we already know: Nasri can make the headpieces work, the others can't. She’s part Martian; they aren't. Does anyone else know about this?”
“Not at NASA. I never told my contact at Telomics why I asked for the test, but he’ll figure it out.”
“Okay, you talk to your guy right now. I'm calling their CEO, Martel. We need to keep this a secret until we can spin this properly.”