The House Next Door Read online

  We enter a massive control room, with giant flat-screen computer monitors covering every inch of wall. The space is buzzing with scientists and agents who barely register our entrance.

  “Rob, meet your new colleagues,” McKinley says as three painfully geeky techies approach us. My kind of people! “Dr. Leo Conrad, Dr. Seth Chan, and Dr. Rafael Axen.”

  Dr. Conrad speaks first, offering a limp but excited handshake. “Wonderful to make your acquaintance, Mr. Barnett. Let me be the first to say, the cosmic data you managed to capture and recognize on your home system was highly impressive.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” I reply. Slowly but surely, my fear is morphing into pride.

  “You’re obviously no criminal,” McKinley interjects. “But you did obtain what we believe is an extraordinarily sensitive message from an intelligent being from outer space—which we quickly accessed and copied for ourselves. Because the Bureau believed you planned to go public with that discovery, hopefully you can understand why we felt the urgent need to track and detain you.”

  “I do.”

  “Take a look around,” Dr. Conrad says. “What you’re seeing is every single drop of quantum-computing power we have being used to try to decipher your data. Due to the uniqueness of your home setup, there are a few elements of its algorithmic expression we were hoping you could help clarify.”

  “And then,” says Dr. Chan, barely able to contain his enthusiasm, “we can hopefully finish our translation! Because right now? We are very, very close.”

  Chapter 23

  The mission specialist is starting to wake up.

  He’s groggy, disoriented, and his reflexes and reaction time will be impaired for quite a while. Still, having proven himself to be an unpredictable threat to the crew’s safety, none of them is taking any chances. He’s tied down to a chair in the cockpit with some spare electrical cords while the others take over his tasks.

  The pilot is floating nearby with another syringe of sedative, just in case.

  After checking her console, the commander slowly turns to face her colleagues.

  “Everyone,” she says solemnly, “we will soon be locked in on our final destination. I am going to connect with my family and…attempt to say…some kind of farewell. I invite all of you to do the same, if you so choose.”

  The commander watches her team begin to disperse. She is still conflicted about having lied to them, but is beginning to forgive herself.

  Yet she is aching to her very core knowing she will never see her family again.

  Keeping her eyes glued to that wonderful old photo she snuck aboard of her husband and two children as infants, she considers making a video message for them—but she doubts she could get through it without bursting into tears. So instead, the commander swings a keyboard out from under her control panel and begins typing.

  My sweet children, my dear husband—

  If you felt I was hiding something from you all when we said good-bye…I was.

  I don’t know how to tell you this except directly: I am not returning home from this mission.

  I won’t pretend to be able to explain the full nature of our purpose, except to say that I believe we are playing a key role in saving the entire universe. I am weeping with sorrow, but I am also honored and humbled to be making such a sacrifice.

  I know that one day, you all will join me, wherever it is we go next. Until then, please carry my deep love for all of you in your hearts, and know that I will be watching over you, always.

  —Your loving wife and mother

  It is all the commander can do to hold herself together. She has never felt so out of control.

  The pilot sees this and reaches over to her, placing his hand on her forearm. Their eyes meet, and their kindred souls connect, once again. He tries, silently, to offer her a kind of reassurance, born from their years of training and similar experiences—and from the grim fate they now share. It helps. But only so much.

  And so the commander recommits herself to the mission’s latest tasks at hand, trusting that her family, history, and the entire universe will ultimately understand why she made the decision that she did.

  The Epsilon Eridani continues cruising within the L-1 point, orbiting the sun, stabilized by the gravitational pulls between that star and the ship’s target planet, a mere 1.5 million kilometers away.

  The commander’s current priority is to review their latest communications, both sent and received.

  The contents of these communications will determine what happens next.

  Chapter 24

  Doctors Conrad, Chan, and Axen are huddled around an enormous tower of computer monitors and quantum processors. Agent McKinley is observing from nearby.

  I’m watching in awe as a torrent of numbers and symbols flutter across the screens.

  “As you can see, Dr. Barnett,” Dr. Conrad says, “we’re using a fault-tolerant quantum computation model to minimize de-coherence. But this is where we keep getting stuck.”

  “Any ideas?” asks Dr. Chan. “You know this data better than anybody.”

  At first I say nothing—not because I don’t have any ideas, but because my lips are frozen in a big, dopey grin.

  I may not technically hold a PhD, but I’m certainly not going to correct them. I just can’t express how amazing it feels, after all these agonizing years, to finally be taken seriously by some fellow scientists.

  But I force myself to snap out of it. No time for pride. This is deadly serious stuff.

  “Let me take a look,” I reply, nudging my way between the trio to a free keyboard.

  I hit a few keys and quickly skim the data readouts. I see the problem immediately—and I realize that this remarkable computer system can probably handle my complex solution.

  “Okay,” I say, “I think you’re on the right track. But the noise threshold is still too high. I’d also double your density matrices to match my qubit input rate. Like this.”

  I execute the commands, and within seconds, the streaming data begins to ebb and pulse, like a river changing course.

  Soon, the data flow changes again. It actually looks like numbers and symbols are starting to rearrange themselves into some kind of order. I think it’s working!

  “Barnett, you did it!” Dr. Chan says.

  But Doctors Conrad and Axen are too stunned to make a sound.

  And so am I.

  Because before our eyes, it appears as if the data is turning into…

  “Letters!” I blurt out. “Look!”

  “Yes, yes, it’s deciphering,” exclaims Dr. Chan. “We’re getting our first word!”

  We’re all watching something we simply can’t believe. Something that defies all earthly logic as we know it, every bit of scientific research ever done.

  A message—or at least the start of one, sent from outer space, emerging painstakingly slowly, one letter at a time:

  3α677δ58ø58ϖ485ε25χ5θ46∆9ηφ853π2737τ2θ5…

  M

  “Oh, my God,” says Dr. Axen. “That’s an M!”

  It is! Clear as day. And it leaves me absolutely dumbstruck.

  7ç6å9β32α7μ82π6ε43δ5θ96∆χ28η8φ49μ73τ83δ9ϖ3…

  E

  “An E, holy shit!” exclaims Dr. Axen.

  3α6θ3χ65β3ψ25θ23ε7α86π3χ20μ06∆4ψ88β3τ89ε2…

  R

  “An R?” asks Dr. Chan. “Are they spelling Mercury?”

  “Hang on,” Dr. Conrad says, typing furiously. “It’s not complete yet.”

  8ϖ39β60α7δ34∆382ϖ86ε5χ19∆9θ65η3ψ5π373τ5ç6…

  C

  “A C!” shouts Dr. Chan. “It is spelling Mercury. Is that where this has been coming from?”

  But then…

  4å4β3θ2α37μ88π3ψ25θ23ε7θ96∆χ2β32α7μ06∆4δ7…

  Y

  “Mercy?” I ask as that final letter becomes clear and the first chilling word of the message is complete. “I…I don’t understand. Mercy for what? Why would aliens
start by saying that to us?”

  It’s Agent McKinley who answers me. He looks strangely…calm?

  “A fair question, Barnett,” he says. “But it has to be understood…in context.”

  “Context?” I ask. “I’d say a message from extraterrestrials is pretty damn unique!”

  I look around at the other scientists for confirmation, but oddly, all are silent.

  “Actually,” McKinley says, “it’s not. We’ve been receiving…other messages. For quite some time now.”

  And just like that, my head starts to spin. I can barely stand straight. It feels like the floor below me has instantly turned to Jell-O.

  Did this guy just say “other messages”? Is he freaking serious?

  McKinley reads my mind. He nods, gravely.

  “That’s right,” he says. “Dozens.”

  Chapter 25

  “This format,” McKinley continues, “is more or less how all the others came in. Streams of patterned cosmic data that we would slowly decipher, letter by letter.”

  “But this latest one,” Dr. Chan interrupts, “the encoding was different.”

  “It was more algorithmically complex for some reason,” Dr. Axen adds. “Probably so the signal would cut through all the cosmic chatter more clearly—because it’s an important one. Which is why we needed your help.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I stammer, trying to steady my dizziness and absorb what I’m hearing. “Go back to the part about those other messages. What did they say?”

  Dr. Conrad starts to answer, but McKinley quiets him by raising his hand.

  “Let’s let these three get back to work deciphering this one,” he says. “Barnett, you come with me. I’ll tell you everything.”

  Agent McKinley has to practically drag me into an empty adjoining conference room separated from the bustling main lab area by thick glass walls. As soon as he shuts the door, the room becomes pin-drop silent.

  “You may want to have a seat for this,” the agent suggests.

  But I’m way too jittery for that. So while McKinley sits down calmly at the large mahogany table, I pace back and forth.

  “What I’m about to tell you,” he says, “is—in the interest of national and global security—of the utmost secrecy. Do you understand?”

  “Yes!” I shout, at the end of my rope. “Out with it already!” The suspense is killing me.

  “We’ve been tracking these signals, these messages, for a while now,” McKinley says. “Nine years, seven months, two weeks to be precise.”

  My head starts spinning. If this agent is telling me the truth…

  Earth has been secretly receiving alien communications for nearly a decade?

  “It took us almost half that time just to figure out how the hell to decipher them. But once we landed on the unique combination of quantum digital physics, it was like we’d stumbled on the Rosetta stone. Suddenly, all the messages we’d intercepted up to that point could be translated. It’s still not clear who or where they’re coming from. But whatever life form is sending them…they know an awful lot about our planet and species.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “What did they say?”

  “The messages express increasingly grave concerns about our behavior. Our judgment. How we live our lives. How we live with one another.”

  “Who’s…we?” I ask.

  “The undeniable implication is all of us,” McKinley explains. “Every last human being on the planet, all seven billion. According to these messages, the human race—by both our actions and inactions—is guilty of engaging in ‘perilous endeavors.’ These aliens have been sending observations, suggestions, and recently…warnings.”

  I have to grip the edge of the conference table now to brace myself.

  “Warnings? Like what?”

  “Like we’ve been tempting fate by allowing our global nuclear capabilities to grow unchecked. Like we’ve been destroying our own environment. Like our worsening disagreements over culture, religion, and resources have not just halted humanity’s development, but have actively put our species’ future in jeopardy—and thus, by extension, other species’ futures as well.”

  I’m left absolutely aghast. And utterly terrified.

  Because I’m slowly starting to understand.

  “Dysgenics,” I say. That’s the opposite of evolution: the passing down of harmful traits and other disadvantages to future generations.

  “Correct,” McKinley says. “But these life forms don’t just see human beings as harming ourselves. They view us as a threat…to the rest of the universe. Their messages have been warning us that unless we change our ways…we may be facing…human extinction.”

  My legs start to give out. Finally I take that empty seat at the conference table.

  “Fine, okay, so you guys have been getting all these messages,” I say. “What the hell have you been doing about them?”

  “Since they first started coming in nine years ago, we’ve been sharing the data streams directly with the White House, our closest allies, and a secret select committee at the United Nations. We’ve hoped they’d be willing to abide by the aliens’ recommendations and take on some of our species’ challenges. We’ve tried, certainly. But look at our messed-up planet, Barnett. We haven’t exactly made much progress.”

  Now my gut is in an absolute knot. I try to speak, but my throat is too dry to make a sound. I try to think, but my mind is too frenzied.

  Just then, the glass conference room door opens and Dr. Axen pokes his head in. I notice right away his face is as white as a sheet.

  “Agent McKinley?” he says, his voice quivering with fright. “We’ve finished deciphering the complete message. You really need to see this.”

  Chapter 26

  It’s two A.M. on the East Coast. Most of the country is fast asleep.

  But on the “Watch Floor” of the White House Situation Room underground complex—the epicenter of the federal government’s 24/7 vigilance over national security threats—one man is wide awake.

  Byron Stannis, a stout, compact fellow with decades of military and intelligence experience, is in charge of the Watch Team’s overnight shift. He has also been a key member of Operation Obsidian Sky, the government’s top-secret monitoring of the ominous extraterrestrial messages that have been incoming for nearly ten years.

  Stannis is currently seated in front of two tiers of curved computer monitors, participating in a secure video conference with representatives from the Pentagon, the National Security Council, NORAD, the Cyber Ops team stationed at Northrop’s classified quantum computer lab at Tejon Ranch in Southern California, including crackpot amateur scientist Robert Barnett, whom Stannis has been monitoring for months, and various allied leaders from around the globe.

  And joining, from aboard Air Force One, is the President of the United States.

  “What you are seeing, ladies and gentlemen,” says Dr. Chan at Tejon Ranch, “is our complete rough translation of what appears to be…their final message.”

  Stannis was given this intel just minutes earlier, and reading it left him gut-struck.

  He can’t imagine what will happen when the content is actually spoken aloud.

  “And needless to say,” Agent McKinley chimes in, “given the escalating tone of recent similar messages, we believe this warning should be taken extremely seriously.”

  “Yes, I think we can all agree on that,” the president says. “Let’s hear it.”

  Dr. Conrad clears his throat and, from his tablet, reads the most difficult, most momentous few sentences of his entire life.

  “‘Mercy…is no longer an option,’” he says—as every person on the video conference lets out a horrified gasp. “‘We have sent you innumerable messages about your planet. About your species. About your future. We have made our concerns clear to your leaders. We have implied them to select individuals. We have tried to help you. But you have not listened. You have not changed. You have only…gotten worse. Therefore,
you leave us no choice. Good-bye.’”

  And with that, the video conference turns deafeningly silent.

  The national security advisor slumps in her seat, shaking her head in shock.

  The admiral representing the Joint Chiefs of Staff crosses his arms and sets his jaw in a furious grimace, not used to feeling so helpless.

  Stannis leans back and covers his face, as if that might somehow remove him from this utter nightmare that is all too real.

  Finally, the secretary of defense looks directly into the president’s eyes.

  “Sir, what could that mean?”

  The president’s expression is grim but stoic, resigned but brave.

  “It means…only an act of God can save us now.”

  Chapter 27

  You leave us no choice.

  The commander has just read—for practically the hundredth time—the complete text of the final message that her home planet’s leaders recently beamed down to Earth.

  A copy was relayed to her vessel when the Epsilon Eridani first entered the Milky Way galaxy a few hours earlier. But the commander did not know what the contents of that message would be before she opened it.

  It has confirmed her worst fears.

  The commander was never involved in the top-level discussions that brought about this decision. She holds a high rank in her home world’s starship fleet, but such matters are way above her pay grade.

  She was certainly aware of the High Council’s ongoing deliberations regarding the “Earth problem,” as it was called, along with the various methods they employed to try to fix it. Homo sapiens are a relatively young alien race, similar in many ways to her own. They possess incredible potential—for both good and bad—but their capacity to do harm was projected to be much more likely.

  Their civilization’s ruling classes were given years of warnings to improve their behavior, ample time to change course. Hundreds of “ordinary” human beings were selected, too, and were sent cryptic individualized messages. These were never as explicit, nor did they reveal their alien origin. But they were laden with great personal meaning: familiar songs, inspiring aphorisms, touching images. They were intended to encourage the receivers to reexamine their lives and make small changes to their behavior. But by and large, this failed as well.