Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General
Date [standardized human time]: September 26, 2160
Once we’d distanced ourselves from The Sailer, a few days after my speech, Secretary-General Kuemper called to offer a curious picture of the results. As I cleared the final stretch to Tarva’s home via train, I listened to the conversation that’d made me think about what an improved future might look like, beyond an idealistic vision. I wondered what Noah would say today; it was recent, in my memory, that he’d also begged and bartered with those who hated us and all we stood for. Connecting with the Shield or Federation remnants wouldn’t be comfortable for any of us, though I believed we should find a way to seize the opportunity without compromising our values. The Sapient Coalition needed to stand as a pillar of progress, equality, and forward-thinking for all, regardless of whether they “deserved” our compassion.
“Elias, what on Earth did you say? The United Nations has been diplomatically propositioned by somewhere in the ballpark of two dozen species—some of their conditions were most unpalatable, of course,” I heard Kuemper’s voice through my headphones. “The Duerten, the Shield’s very founders, asked if a dual membership in the Shield and the Sapient Coalition would be possible. I’m not sure if it would, since the two’s directives and stances on basic rights are often at odds.”
Syba responded to the news, and I could recall her rearing back with excitement. “If they join you, that includes them in the mutual defense pacts…and maybe you can get them to make some concessions on predators and predator disease to gain entry! The Duerten are highly influential, and it’s a symbolic addition; this is a win!”
“Let’s hold our horses, Syba,” I had answered. “I do agree with you that they’d be an excellent addition, expanding our sphere of influence. They are one of the most human-friendly races; Ambassador Korajan has been trying to help us, even if I disagree with his methods. Perhaps we could meet in the middle…make them a partial member, much the same as those unfortunate Bissems getting run through a political gauntlet. You should help them out, by the way.”
The Secretary-General laughed bitterly on the tape. “It wasn’t us blocking their entry, Elias. Our hands were tied; it was save them politically, or save their world. We chose the latter.”
“My friend, that’s a false dichotomy. Please choose both. I know you remember what it was like to be in their shoes. You were the hopeful scientist wishing for friends, before all of this. I think you still are.”
“And that’s why I’ll accept all of these Shield bids, right? Let’s not get sidetracked. Where was I?” Kuemper had palmed her forehead, a troubled look in her eyes. “The Leshee. They have a lot of conditionals and qualifiers, and they want to sign a thirty-year pact between solely us and them, to slowly warm to humanity. Some of their terms, like returning their predator disease patients who were given asylum on Earth, are unacceptable.”
“I agree that should not be considered under any circumstances. We’re not a power that would sell out the mentally ill for short-term gain; we must communicate that in no uncertain terms.”
“Then let’s negotiate,” Syba interjected. “Suleans could help. We take anything involving predator disease patients off the table at the start. We show them we’ll stand up for what’s right, and making the galaxy better for everyone.”
“I know what this is really about. Kuemper, Syba, the Leshee are afraid of getting too close to us, because they believe they’ll somehow become ‘like us.’ To them, that means their conjectures about us being bloodlusting fiends. Us taking in the ‘predator-diseased’ patients is proof that we want our allies to be predator-diseased.”
Kuemper sighed. “That’s insane, which means your assessment is probably spot on. And speaking of insane: we were most shocked to be contacted by the Yulpa, of all species. They had the audacity to ask for reparations and a public apology for the cyberattack, when they’re still chomping at the bit to use humans as blood sacrifices!”
“That doesn’t change the fact that we caused civilian devastation and deaths. Their cult is a threat to humanity, but they opened the lines—even the Yulpa reached out.”
“That’s wonderful news!” The recording captured the excitement in Syba’s voice. “This is much more than the single species reaching out that we hoped for. About two dozen…that’s at least twenty percent of who was there, which makes it more successful than Noah’s speech in a less receptive audience. Even humanity’s enemies want to try to move the needle, because of you, Mr. Elias! You did this!”
“We did this,” I’d corrected her. “It takes all of us to bring about lasting change. Especially our friend on the other side of the line.”
Kuemper pursed her lips. “I know. Your moral compass serves you well; you’re unflappable, Elias. I wish I could be less bothered by the prospect of losing the friends we already do have.”
“Let go of that fear. Humanity needs to take a leap of hope just as much as the Shield.”
The train rolled to a stop in Skalga’s governmental district, and I tapped the pause button on the recording. As invigorating as it was to reminisce on the fruits of my Shield endeavor, being here was about reuniting with old friends—and perhaps confronting my demons along the way. I’d been worried we’d lose Tarva, and that she’d forsake the trusting friendship we shared. The Venlil had intertwined their entire society with ours and risked all, only to have that progress undone by violence spilling onto their streets. Despite all of humanity’s efforts to convince the populace that we weren’t dangerous, that wasn’t the whole truth. I wouldn’t have needed to pass Emergency Order 56, censoring vast swathes of Terran culture, if I’d been as unflappable as Kuemper thought.
For me, it wasn’t about losing the friends we had; it was about acquiring any, and seeing that humanity survived. I didn’t want to step on free speech, or tell anyone to hide who they are. Just another example of how, when push came to shove, I’d compromise everything I believed in…the same as the current UN.
I stared at the ground, as GPS guided me the final few blocks down the sidewalk. Deep shame chafed at me. Why had I thought it was a good idea to seek out Tarva, when that was how I’d parted from her? Clearly, she didn’t turn on humans, if she’d paired up with Noah—and I’d seen how close Skalga and Earth were in the present time. It wasn’t lost on me how many businesses and government buildings had writing in English now, being inclusive of Terrans. Still, I was the heartless person who asked a friend to speak to someone who killed her first daughter, in the name of the greater good. Those were my last words: not a thank you for standing with us and saving mankind from annihilation, or an apology for how we’d failed her that day. It was twenty years too late to say I was sorry for being so thoughtless.
I walked through the security outside of Tarva’s home in a daze, half-wishing she’d turn me away. The Venlil’s life would’ve been much easier if she hadn’t taken a chance on us. She’d still have her biological tail if she hadn’t come to the memorial to stand beside us. What kind of welcome would I get from her? Had she mourned me, or despised me for what I asked of her? My anxieties were running amok as I rapped a fist against the door, and shoved my hands back into my pockets. I stood on the porch outside the upscale dwelling, awaiting judgment. Perhaps, deep down, I believed that she could offer the best verdict on whether I was truly Meier, and whether the sum of my actions…made me a good person. Seeing the statues and the UN’s idolatry of me made me feel like a fraud.
The door swung open, revealing an elderly Venlil whose eyes were a bit cloudy. “Elias Meier? My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but you really haven’t aged a day! My dear old friend. Come here.”
Tarva flung her frail arms around me, squeezing as tightly as she could. I noticed tears rolling down her face, suggesting that she’d felt grief over my death for all these years; the former governor of the Venlil hadn’t hated me, in spite of everything. Were I still an organic being, I suspected I would’ve been reduced to a weeping, blubbering mess. I remembered her staring down Isif, an Arxur, with defiance, and me refusing to call her anything but a friend and an equal. She’d repaid me by sending the few ships she hadn’t already given to us to Earth’s defense. The governor had held my hand while I watched the late-arriving feeds from my home, of bombs dropping—not knowing if by then, the entire world was gone. She consoled me, during what I thought was the first time she’d seen any human cry.
Tarva even offered to join me the first time I met Isif after Earth’s bombardment, despite knowing he’d see her as food. A true friend. Better than I deserve.
“Tarva, I’m sorry for everything,” I croaked out. “For not putting you first, when you did so much for us. I should’ve never asked so much of you. I shouldn’t have assumed that you knew ahead of time how dangerous humans could be, when it’s my fault that was hidden in the first place. You gave up everything and everyone you knew, and I asked for more. I failed you.”
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The Venlil huffed with what seemed like indignation. “Don’t be ridiculous! I admired how you sought peace in the galaxy, with your final thoughts. You made me stronger—better, and put me on the path that freed my people. I named my daughter after you because of that.”
That announcement hit me like a bucket of cold water to the face: not that I’d actually feel that anymore. “You did…what?”
“Her name is Elia, and she’s my entire world. I know how much you were tempted to follow a darker path, yet you chose to be kind and gentle. It’s not your fault others made a different choice that day. You never gave up on that dream of a better tomorrow. It’s wonderful to have you back. We missed you so dearly; it broke my heart having you die in my arms. And Elias, I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“How so? You saved us! You protected us when no one else would…”
“You had to hide the darker side of humanity, and bend over backward to accommodate us: our fear. You were killed because you tried to make it easy on us. That was all our fault, for treating you like monsters any time you showed any part of your soul we didn’t understand. I hated seeing your species persecuted so very much.”
“You believed we were monsters at the start too, and helped us anyway because we might be innocent. Don’t ever apologize to me, Tarva. Your compassion is unparalleled. You took us in and fought beside us during our time of need.”
Tarva flicked an ear reluctantly. “I know you’d do the same. Serving as the Venlil ambassador for almost two decades, I’m glad I could fight beside you in the SC. I wish you’d been there to see it.”
“I do too. I would’ve done several things differently. I must say, I thought you’d be more put off by…you know. My reincarnation.”
“Part of what I intended with Elia was for your memories to live on. Now they do.”
A gruff voice spoke behind Tarva, raspy from age. “Why are you leaving the man standing outside? Please, come in. It’s impossible to separate Elia and Ari from their game. ‘Online games can’t be paused, Dad!’ Blah blah. You think they’d say hello to a family friend, with all we do for them. They’ve got it made.”
“Noah Williams.” I shook his hand, and held onto it for an extra moment longer, making eye contact. “You know you violated a lot of diplomatic regulations, becoming romantically involved with a foreign dignitary? Love is wonderful, but for the sovereignty of the United Nations, you should’ve stepped down.”
Noah scoffed. “And left Tarva with a career diplomat speaking the official party lines? You didn’t come and visit to chew me out.”
“I had to give you a bit of a hard time. You know it was inappropriate on every level.”
“Was it though?” Tarva chimed in. “The foreign dignitary was terrified every time your eyes pointed her way. If Noah was someone she loved and trusted, wouldn’t that make him the right man for the job? I don’t think you were trying to strongarm me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Good. And besides, Noah is the kindest human alive. He was there when we helped with the cattle rescues—who wouldn’t have come home, had you not told me to talk to Isif. You were right to do that; you saved lives, and got Venlil victims out of a horrid existence quicker than those who survived would’ve been.”
“It’s a relief that sapient cattle are a thing of the past. Imagine my horror when that was the first bit we learned about aliens: as if the shock of first contact wasn’t enough. It doesn’t surprise me that the two of you helped those poor souls, and I wish I could’ve been there personally as well. It must be a long road to recovery for them.”
Noah nodded, perhaps recalling something sad. “Yes, it most certainly is. Instead of regaling you with the…self-inflicted end of my friend, Glim, why don’t I introduce you to our children?”
“I’m sorry for your loss. Please, I’d love to meet the little ones.”
“They’re not that little. If Elia hears you call her ‘little,’ she might headbutt you. You’re the first human she can do that to without worrying about hurting you.”
“I’d still rather she didn’t. Metal and bone meeting doesn’t tend to end well. That sounds like the fast track for your daughter to land in concussion protocol.”
“As if that ever stopped her,” Tarva hissed.
I watched the elderly Venlil shuffle back down the hallway, and I slipped off my shoes as I spotted a rack in the hallway. The reality was that I’d never interacted with younger Venlil; the sole alien child I’d spoken with was a Gojid, back in the refugee camp—a sad story. Elia was all grown up by now, of course, but that had happened in what was the span of a few months to me. Tarva and Noah’s offspring were still considered children in my view. I wished I could’ve seen them grow up, if only to imagine what it would’ve been like if I settled down and had kids. It was impossible for me to have biological progeny of my own now, and would’ve been far-fetched then, but I could’ve lived vicariously through my old friends.
“Become a diplomat, you could change the world,” they said. “It’s not like you’ll have Earth’s fate in your hands as aliens try to bomb the hell out of you, or have your dead brain imaged and put into a robot.” Virnt, this isn’t what I signed up for.
The female Venlil didn’t look away from the video game on screen, which Noah whispered that Ari had helped develop. Despite the human brother being the one who designed the game, Elia’s avatar seemed to have the upper hand—comboing her brother’s health bar down bit by bit. I couldn’t help but smirk at how serious they looked, mashing buttons like their lives depended on it. This scene would’ve been unimaginable a quarter century ago. While I’d never say it to Tarva, seeing an unmodded member of her species up-close, our alien friends looked much more natural with nostrils and straight legs. Elia was wearing a University of Michigan hoodie too, which begged the question of whether she’d attended that college.
I noticed gold medals hanging below the TV; on closer inspection, they seemed like authentic gold. Was that from the Olympics? I’d attended a few of the games as a dignitary, and it was nice to know that tradition had resumed. I found it odd that Venlil would participate, due to the sharp differences in our species, but perhaps they had their own categories. Athletic pursuits spreading to Skalga was thrilling to see. It was also a delight to imagine alien students pursuing studies on Earth—wanting to go to a predator-run school. Tarva certainly didn’t fear us, if she’d let her daughter study abroad on Terra. This was the sort of progress that we both fought for years ago; I was quite happy to see how far our friendship had come. Looking back, none of the natives had cowered at the sight of me, or other humans.
“So, I hear you bear my namesake, but decided to cut off the pesky s at the end?” I prompted.
Elia didn’t startle at all, suggesting she could see me from her periphery. “You should see how much they cut off Aunt Sara’s last name, for his name.”
“They kept the cool part,” Ari commented. “Hi, Meier. We heard a lot about you growing up. Obviously, we didn’t think we’d ever meet you.”
The Venlil kicked her brother in the shin, hard enough to make me wince. “Ari!”
“Ow. Cheater! You can’t kick me to win at video games.”
“I kicked you for being insensitive.”
“You’re consistently the one who’s insensitive.”
Tarva sighed with stifling levels of disappointment. “They still act like children.”
“Let them have their fun,” Noah countered. “You were their age once too.”
“You never disciplined them; they don’t need to have fun at the expense of dignity! What do you think, Elias?”
I recoiled, not wanting to get in the middle of a marital spat. “I think…that I could take both of them at this game once I get the hang of it. Superhuman reflexes, and all.”
“You’re way cooler than Tarva told us,” Elia snickered. “Grab a controller.”
“Thanks, I guess. Do you think diplomats are completely boring, or something?”
“You talk on and on about boring things; I thought your speeches would have a lot in common with Tarva’s lectures. Her speeches were definitely a snoozefest, and I had to sit through way too many of them when she worked as an SC ambassador.”
“Orators have to speak to their audience. Not everything can be as riveting as a flashy, punchy video game. Trust me, after what’s happened in my recent memory, giving boring speeches sounds amazing. I had to talk about humanity being under attack, and a few weeks after that, picking up the pieces of Earth.”
“And now, you’re basically a zombie.”
“You say I’m insensitive?!” Ari howled, eyes bulging as Elia’s character performed a finisher.
“Well, it’s true! He came back from the dead, and he’s walking around. Do you think you’re a zombie, Meier?”
“My corpse stayed dead, so I’ll say no. I wasn’t aware Venlil had the concept of zombies. Undead hordes of your kind killing people: that concept seems quite predatory.” I pressed a hand to my ear, as it dawned on me that something was absent. “Wait, there’s no translator sensation. Are you speaking English?”
“Yes.”
I tried to whistle in appreciation, which only left my mouth in a mute o-shape. “Your parents raised you with both customs: a true cultural fusion. You’re the real exchange program. I love to see how much our people have shared with each other.”
“Ever the diplomat, aren’t you? Have a seat on the couch; I’m going to make sure you go through with this gaming session. I want to see Elia taken down a notch,” Noah prodded.
“Finally, we agree on something about her!” Tarva exclaimed.
I picked up a controller with a chuckle, making eye contact with them. “This has been an excellent reminder of the progress I’m fighting for. Thank you for having me over.”
“Any time. You’re family,” the elderly Venlil replied.
Noah slapped me on the shoulder. “What she said. We’re glad you stopped by, to see us all withered up like raisins. Though we might be up there in years, Tarva’s still the best person to go to if you need to know your way around the SC.”
“I’d be happy to help Elias in his mission; knowing him, he’s got some pacifist cause all lined up already. It’ll be like old times.”
“Thank you both. I’ll take you up on that down the line.” I smiled in appreciation, feeling a bit lighter than I ever had in this metal form. “There’s a lot of work to be done, once the war settles down. I have to help with this project. The technology could be rife with abuse if I don’t.”
Tarva flicked an ear. “You’ll take humanity down the right path, toward your better angels. Noah was the man for the job the first time around, but now, it’s you. Make us proud.”
Feeling more at home on Skalga than I had wandering a changed Earth or a Terra Technologies lab, I found myself ready to do what was necessary to ensure this kind of progress continued. Part of paving the way for a brighter future meant ensuring other digital humans had easier adjustments than I did; I needed to be there when Virnt got his next prototype ready, assuming those cryobrains could be salvaged. My mission was to put the Sapient Coalition back on the straight and narrow, until they remembered their purpose as well. It was all too easy to let fear and temptation guide our actions, but I wasn’t going to allow that to happen without a fight.