Meanwhile in Paris
The President was a born public speaker.
He did not need the microphone but still used it, "I've invited here only scientific leaders, we have no time to bother simplifying this for home viewers. Hold onto your chairs. As you noticed, this strange and complex story does not pause. If you all feeling like parts appear blurred, confused, or rushed is normal. I think the media and pundits will do an excellent job over the next day or two explaining any missing concepts we may fly over. They will get all of the theories sorted in a more friendly fashion." In the room, many pens clicked. These people planned to take notes.
He pointed the pointer light at an image of the sun on the white board behind him. "Let's begin with the really old stuff. Fusion is the release of energy when hydrogen collides and fuse forming a heavier but lighter helium nucleus. This occurs deep within our sun as a result of gravity compressing the gas. Gamow, a fat scientist” he grabbed his own gut, “who worked with Richard Feynman the father of Quantum theory refused to stop the notion of fusion and compression with helium formation. He found that secondary fusion chains occurred in the heart of the sun. Squeezed hard enough, heavier and heavier elements through the entire spectrum of the atomic chart, like, for example, the carbon, oxygen and the nitrogen in our atmosphere will form.
"We now know that with time, these heavier elements in very small concentration are drawn into lumps and streaks that agglomerate in the sun. These elements somehow form highways in the shape of filaments. Marilyn as part of her introductory video to... which round?" he asked Francois. The man sitting on stage was pointing at him instead of suggesting a number. The President needed no more, his brain, as usual, understood the cue. "Part of the Presidential Challenge showed this Heliocorium. Formation and agglomeration of this new stage in matter is the life work of Russian physicist David Lipvitch's. The SAC spoke with David about these structures, and he confirmed our most significant fears. At any given time, our sun is believed to contain enough heavy elements to form one or two new proto-planets. Unique conditions are needed for this matter to accumulate, and much rarer conditions are required for such a large mass to be expelled with sufficient velocity to form a new planet.
"A ball is coming our way, and our solar system will soon have a new orbiting planet unless, as we fear, this magma hits earth. Normally that would be a wonderful thing. A race in a world called the Purple has the resources to alter the sun's inner dynamic to force the heliocorium into a ball. Marilyn confirmed that story, which was the basis of Round 27 of Electoral, which took place in the Purple. Marilyn made this threat as clear as possible. But we have physical evidence which backs this story. Recently, neutrinos, which originate deep within the sun have begun to shift in energy. To non-physicists, neutrinos are massless particles produced deep in the sun and pass through matter almost undisturbed. Their change is evidence that the fabric of the sun itself has been altered. I now am sure this ball will be issued and converge on us as one of the events Marilyn and Liam call the Sixth Attraction. To Liam, if we are to believe his theory, somehow the Multiverse desires our destruction."
Emilio was articulate. He spoke like any good university professor. He appeared to have a profound personal knowledge of these matters. "Experts believe part of the Kuiper belt, the line of asteroids beyond Neptune, are the consequence of such a proto-planet crushing event. We appear to be next in line. To me, this smacks of the first event. I feel powerless to prevent it; I can't influence the workings of the Multiverse. But I believe Sophie can, but we must behold the entire canvas, glean what knowledge we can, and share it freely. Sophie does not seem to care about the planet's imminent arrival, and who are we to disagree with her?
"Next, we need to talk about the door." Images from Mars appeared on the wall behind Emilio. There was an audible gasp in the room. "This," he pointed at the perfectly formed black opening on a rock facade of natural stone, "is located at the base of one of the walls of the deep chasm on Mars called Valles Marineris. We believe it was carved more than a million years ago by alien life. It's younger than Mars but not by much. We saw it in Round 24 of this year’s competition.
"We still have little to no data about this door and what lies beyond it. This summer, after decades of failed unmanned missions, we sent a handful of brave souls who entered at risk of their lives. The mission leader was named Ronaldo Corvas; he is dead now. Since the existence of the door and the attempted remote missions to pass beyond it remain highly classified, when our manned team was pulverized, we published this video." Images of the plume stack played. "I am sure you have all have seen it. Back then, the SAC and I could not confirm alien inference." Behind the President were CNN images of the plume of white smoke rising from the Valles and the headline:
-- Rare deep gas release on Mars. --
"This vapor is all that remains of our manned mission. The gas is mostly methane and oxygen with traces of the heavier elements. Our mass readers confirm the gas includes molecular vapor of the mission's equipment and bodies. There is lithium for example, which was part of their field equipment. Marilyn warned the mission leader before he ventured past the door. We do not know the extent of the conversation," he looked at the screen, "nor do we care at the moment, but a probable warning was ignored, and we lost all transmission with the team the instant they passed the door's edge. A power unknown to us controlled further communication, which was lost.
"We believe Mars has its own inhabitants; they are located below the surface past this door."
Chamberland of the SAC stood up. The President smiled to acknowledge the request to speak but continued, "The Martians appear to us as hand-sized sand formations. They float in the air as little clouds of fine dust, or at least that's the basis of some of their technology." He clicked, and the image changed.
Emilio's gift told him he needed to finish this section of his talk before answering the detective. "We received this summer a hundred of these globes." There was an image of the sand globes aligned on a table in the lab of the Berlin tower. Some were still in their boxes, others partially unwrapped. In each, a little figurine of Marilyn danced. "By us, I mean a hundred of the most influential people on earth were the legal recipients of what appears to be a mind invading device. The technology at first evaded us. These shipments, in theory from Marilyn, raised flags at customs, as you can imagine. I know Marilyn enough to exclude her as the true sender. If she wanted the globes to reach these critical people, she would have picked one of a hundred more subtle ways.
Stolen novel; please report.
"On the next video, this is what happened when someone made the mistake of touching one of these balls without a glove." The images were those shown to Emilio back in his tower. A man went wild. In the next frame, he chained to a table; his gaze was that of a possessed man. "This person was rescued, and he is peacefully watching from home as we speak. To help the technician, we used a magnetic field disturbance to stress the sand and force the ball to deactivate." The images were rather disturbing. "Marilyn promised to discuss this situation and these aliens tonight during Round 28."
The audience in the room was no longer taking notes. Everyone was fixated on the images, their jaws hanging wide open. The magnetic test used to push the alien force back into the ball or to reactivate the ball was very convincing. The President had just shown mankind evidence aliens existed, that at least part of the story was not fictional and more importantly that the problem had already landed on the shores of earth.
Emilio paused and pointed at the detective, "Yes?"
"I found something you will love."
"Indulge us."
Gilbert gave someone a cue. On the screen the image of a black man appeared, this was Trent live from San Francisco. He was sitting at a table. On it was the dancing figurine of Marilyn. Behind him were the handful of misfits from the San Francisco Alien Hotline. They were visibly excited to be part of the discussion. "Emilio, let me present you our missing Mars Mission Commander, Ronaldo Corvas; in a new body."
The President was so surprised he turned to face the screen behind him. "Corvas?"
"Yes."
"Ronaldo? The perm works for you. What gives?"
"Long story. You have time? It quite an honor, sir, to meet you."
The President's mind flashed. In a fraction of a second, he saw hundreds of discussions with the man. While unable to recall any specifics, he felt this was the right person, that he traveled to Earth in the ball next to him. "Time is short. We must arrive at the point quickly."
"Of course."
"Tell me what I don't know."
"The aliens on Mars fear Marilyn. They believe she is the cause of the harm in the world. They have a plan to terminate her and in the process destroy its paternal species."
"Let me guess; we have weeks left."
"They said the plan would come on the day of the game final."
"They talked about the game?" The question took Corvas by surprise.
"Yes, as best as I recall. But as you can imagine I am not sure."
“Sophie, they made it clear, we must avoid interfering with her.”
"Wise. Anything else?"
"I spoke of mercury, the planet. I said it was retrograde and had ice; they became very upset. At first, they refused to accept it, as a theologian challenged. They destroyed my body, but maybe thanks to what I said, my mind was transferred, kept intact, and rendered into their form." He pointed at the globe. "I think Trent, the owner of this body floats here. I joined as one of these emotionless creatures. I was sent back to prove them wrong. They have tools to destroy us and Marilyn."
"That is very interesting." Emilio's mind raced, he found the question likely to elicit a response, "Feel any different?"
"Yes! I see things. In this form, I see Marilyn as an infection." Ronaldo's gaze went to the flip phone on the table.
"Why the phone?"
"Ronaldo grabbed it as if it wasn't supposed to be there. He almost slid it into a pocket as he looked at it. Obviously, Corvas was inspecting something inside the phone. Finally, he flipped the phone open with his thumb.
***
The communication on the screen in the Sorbonne went black.
***
Marilyn's face appeared. "Nope,” she said waving a finger in the air like a mother ready to ground her children. “No, no, no, and hell no.”
Emilio did not seem disturbed by Marilyn’s less than subtle interference. "What are you talking about, a soft spot?"
"Darling lets not cross games. What is inside that phone will have to wait." Emilio knew she was lying. "I would politely ask you and Trent to talk, but avoid what's on that phone. Fly him to Berlin if you want." On the corner of the screen, the feed from San Francisco returned. Ronaldo Corvas slid the phone in his pocket as if he was ashamed of having pulled it out. "I rarely insist on anything," she removed her glasses and her facial expression hardened, "but I must. In the strongest fashion possible." Everyone's mind was racing. The phone was a key. She spoke of Round 32. The schedule scrolled on the screen.
Electoral 2072 - The Sixth Attraction
Round 28 - 32 players - The Fuller Crater
Round 29 - 16 players - Mars Invaders
Round 30 - Quarter finales (In 7 days)
Round 31 - 4 players - Semi finales (In 14 days)
Round 32 - 2 players - Final part 1 (In 17 days)
Round 32 - 2 players - Final part 2 (In 21 days)
Emilio's mind raced. He saw himself say hundreds of things to the computer and finally one evoke a strong reaction. That was rare, she normally reacted to most demands and questions. That time was passed. He asked in the softest voice possible, "Would Sophie agree with the delay? Getting him here obfuscates the truth, no?"
The stern expression on the visage of the digital goddess immediately transformed. This was nothing short of rage. "No!" she snapped like a pestilential child. "She wouldn't! What are you going to do about it? Who cares!! I try to play nice, why don't you! Let me be clear, talk about what's in that phone, contact her, anything, really anything, and the gloves come off. Everyone out there, I am getting tired of this insolence." This was obviously the start of a very long speech. Marilyn was working herself up.
Her face was getting red. She spoke and snapped at an invisible person next to her in the computer reality. The computer was genuinely upset, she was working hereafter into a rage only married couples knew about. "You know what?" she began this time truly upset.
The feed went dark.
There was a wait on the line.
Several seconds later the blank silence was replaced by Marilyn’s father Georges' larger face. He was in the Center operating auxiliary systems. He was munching on something and the camera was too close for the comfort of anyone in the audience. In his back, the 30 players were saluting themselves on their way to the tubes. In the center was Sophie, she was caressing her father's head gently. On the different screens around the room it was possible to see Marilyn's enraged face. The creature was now yelling at herself like a spoiled teenager as the players tried to ignore her. A second after taking the screen’s control, Georges snapped at Emilio, "You do it on purpose. God, you are stupid or what? Talk about teamwork. We humans don't deserve her. You really want to die, keep going moron. The hell with this stupid world and this stupid race."
The man raised both hands in the air. In his back, Sophie looked his way. As she did, Georges calmed and the feed ended. Emilio and Francois looked at each other. Emilio had not anticipated the strength of her reaction. The countdown on the screen of the tubed continued.
"You can sit," the President told Copland. The man felt bad. "We have time to understand what just happened. Let's resume."
The world was a strange place these days.
Humans were trying to understand.