Randoms Page 4

  I, meanwhile, was considering the implications of what I had learned. That sinking feeling in my gut was all too familiar. Normally I’d swallow my pride and keep my head down, but that didn’t seem like an option here. I had to say what was on my mind.

  “Those guys are really impressive,” I said. “They have all these amazing skills. Best chess player in the world? I don’t have anything like that. Why am I even here?”

  “Your confusion is understandable,” Dr. Roop said gently. “Let me explain. The selection committee chooses from each world three beings they believe have the best chance of success in the Confederation. However, we do not want to bias the process by selecting only particular representatives who match our ideals, since it is never wise to evaluate a species based only on extraordinary individuals. Consequently, there is always a fourth being chosen at random, one picked from a somewhat contoured pool, but still a more or less blind choice.”

  “Somewhat contoured?” I said. “What does that mean?”

  “In this case, as your species conforms to the quite popular male-female gender split, we wanted to balance things out with a second male,” Dr. Roop said. “Also, because yours is the most culturally dominant nation on your world, and it had not yet been represented, we felt it was prudent to pick an American. Or a Canadian. We don’t understand the difference.”

  “So,” I said, “my name was pulled from a hat of twelve-year-old North American boys.”

  “Eleven to thirteen, but yes,” said Dr. Roop.

  “And there’s nothing about me to make anyone, anywhere, think that I have a better chance of success than any other boy my age?”

  “Initially, yes,” Ms. Price said, looking at me through narrowed eyes, as if to suggest she had been steadily revising her estimation downward.

  “And this healing technology you mentioned,” I said. “What if I made helping my mother a condition of my going?”

  Ms. Price rolled her eyes. That again.

  “I wish I could offer such an incentive,” Dr. Roop said. “Were it my choice, I would happily provide your mother with the aid she needs, but our laws preclude any technological or medical assistance to species that haven’t gone through the evaluation.”

  I didn’t think there was much to be gained by asking him to violate the Prime Directive. I knew what I had to do, so I stood up and looked at them both.

  “I am really flattered,” I said. “I can’t believe what I’ve seen and learned here. This is, without a doubt, the most incredible day of my life. But I’m going to have to take a pass.”

  “What?” cried Ms. Price. “Sit down!”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m out. Can someone drive me home?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  * * *

  I was not chickening out. Not really.

  Sure, I was afraid. Terrified. I was going full coward on this. It’s one thing to daydream, as we all have, about going off in a spaceship and having amazing adventures with a giraffe in a business suit, but when the dapper giraffe shows up and is ready to whisk you off to the stars, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to want to crawl into the fetal position.

  Even so, fear was not calling the shots. If all other things had been equal, I don’t think excitement would have had any problem beating out terror. I was not about to miss out on new life and new civilizations simply because the thought of leaving the planet made me want to wet my pants.

  I was backing out because I wasn’t up to the task. My mom was dying, and she was going to die about the worst death imaginable. If the right person went and convinced the aliens that the human race was worthy, we would get advanced alien medical knowledge, and my mother would get to live. I didn’t want to miss out on the time she had left, but more importantly, I couldn’t risk messing things up. I would pass on the adventure of a lifetime and let someone halfway competent take my place.

  • • •

  Dr. Roop stood up and actually blocked my way. He looked down from his eight-foot vantage, and held out his long arms so I couldn’t pass. Apparently, he was taking no chances. “I don’t think you understand.”

  “I understand perfectly,” I said. “Dr. Roop, I really, really appreciate this offer, and you have no idea how much I want to go, but I’m not your guy. I’m completely average. I can’t fight or play champion-level chess or do math or any of that stuff. I have nothing to contribute. You’re better off getting someone else.”

  “There is no one else,” Dr. Roop said, lowering his arms. The dramatic gesture had apparently run its course. “This is how the process works. The decision of the selection committee is final, and it has to be that way.”

  “Trust me,” said Ms. Price without bothering to look up from her computer. “They won’t budge on this point.”

  “We’ve learned from experience that nations will go to war to get more of their own people in the initiate delegation,” Dr. Roop explained. “The only way to make the process successful and peaceful is to render it immutable.”

  “So if I don’t go, humanity is one man short?”

  Dr. Roop cocked his head and looked at me with his big yellow eyes, which appeared sad. “If you don’t go, Zeke, humanity is out of the running. We’ll try again in sixty years, but if we can’t recruit the delegation selected by the committee, then there is no delegation.”

  I stood there, speechless.

  “I know you are thinking about your mother,” Dr. Roop said. “If you want her to have a chance at being cured, you must agree to participate.”

  That changed the scenario. I nodded and sat my butt back down. Ms. Price continued typing away on her laptop. A glance at her screen told me she was using my time of personal crisis, my moment to make a decision that would affect all of humanity, to catch up on her e-mail.

  • • •

  I had so many questions, I hardly even knew where to begin.

  “When do we leave?”

  “As soon as you are ready,” said Ms. Price, looking up. “The other candidates began meeting with their governments three days ago. They have all agreed to participate. At this point, we are waiting for you.”

  They met three days ago. “You tried to get someone else too. That’s how you know you can’t change their minds.”

  Ms. Price did that thing that, for government employees, stood in for a smile. She blinked and pursed her lips. “We had hoped to put our best foot forward.”

  “But I’m the foot you’re stuck with.”

  “We are delighted that an American citizen will be part of this delegation,” she assured me.

  “I can understand why you might feel inadequate,” Dr. Roop said, “but random participants often become not simply a part of the team, but major contributors.”

  “I get it,” I said, having had enough of the pep talk. I was the resident loser. That’s how it was, so time to move on. “Where exactly are we going?”

  “Ah,” said Dr. Roop, sitting taller in his chair now that we’d moved beyond my protests. “You will be based for the year on Confederation Central, a massive space station more or less in the center of our territory, and the capital city of our civilization. It is the seat of government, home to several of our finest universities, and has some of the best museums in the galaxy. Approximately twelve million beings are aboard at any given time.”

  “So it’s like Babylon 5,” I said.

  “Yes and no,” Dr. Roop said without missing a beat. “The station was not built for the purpose it currently serves. In fact, we did not build it at all, but rather inherited it from a species of beings who lived long before us. We call them the Formers.”

  “So the station is like the Citadel from Mass Effect, and these Formers are like the Protheans?”

  “Best foot forward,” Miss Price said, clearly irritated by my dorking out.

  Dr. Roop held up a hand. “No, no, Ms. Pri
ce. As I explained, these narratives are, in part, the result of our influence, and Zeke’s familiarity with them may prove a genuine advantage.” He turned to me. “I feel certain you must have noticed that my appearance is similar to a creature from your own planet. I am said to resemble a gorilla, yes?”

  “Giraffe,” I corrected.

  “That’s right. You are the one who resembles the gorilla. But you must think it rather an odd coincidence that I should so closely resemble an Earth creature.”

  “Yes, but given everything else that’s going on, I didn’t see the point in bringing it up.” I had read, and been disappointed to learn, that most scientists believed any alien intelligence we might encounter would be so different that communication would likely be impossible. It was the height of self-absorption and fantasy, such theories said, to presume other planets would evolve species that were more or less the same as us. I guess they got that wrong.

  “There are hundreds of planets in the Confederation, but thousands upon thousands of inhabited planets in our galaxy,” Dr. Roop said. “We believe that most, if not all, of these worlds—indeed, the systems in which the worlds are located—were partially or entirely altered by the Formers so that they could sustain life. These planets are all approximately the same size and have similar rotation cycles, atmospheres, climate types, and so on. More than that, the same seed stock of genetic material was deposited on each of these planets.”

  Here I could have mentioned the Preservers from Star Trek or the Ancients from Stargate. Come to think of it, I could have mentioned my father’s show, Colony Alpha, which also featured a mysterious precursor race that had left behind valuable technology. Much of the show revolved around the two warring factions’ efforts to find and understand ancient artifacts while the last of Earth’s population, located on an isolated colony planet, found itself in the middle. I demonstrated wisdom and restraint by holding my tongue.

  “Life develops in somewhat similar patterns on many different worlds,” Dr. Roop continued. “You will see dozens of alien species on Confederation Central, a majority of them bipeds of approximately four to eight feet in height. This seems to be the direction in which the Formers wished us to evolve. You will see sentient races that look like animals from your world. On some worlds there are likely animals that look like human beings.”

  “Let’s not belabor this point,” Ms. Price said, moving her hand in a circular let’s go motion.

  “It is always a good time to learn,” Dr. Roop said. “Don’t you agree, Ms. Price?”

  “I work for the government,” she answered, “so, no, I don’t agree. Let’s talk logistics.”

  “Very well. To remain on schedule, we would like to leave in two days. By that time, you should be aboard our orbiting spacecraft. That ship will take us to rendezvous with the delegates from one of the other applying species, and then we will go to Confederation Central, where you will attempt to demonstrate your species’ ability to thrive within our society.”

  “And how will I do that?” I asked, already sure I was going to fail miserably at whatever they wanted me to do.

  “We will explain in due course. You need not concern yourself just yet.”

  “And can all four species become part of the Confederation,” I asked, “or just one of us?”

  “Sometimes all four groups succeed. Sometimes none do. You are competing against yourselves, not one another. Any other questions?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “How does space travel work? Most of the stuff I’ve read says that faster-than-light travel is impossible.”

  “I shall spare you the details,” said Dr. Roop. “You only need to know that we travel outside relativistic space, so there are no problems with time dilation, if that was your question.”

  “I’m pretty sure what you’re saying is beyond his concerns,” Ms. Price said.

  As it happens, that was my nerdy concern. I had a pretty good layman’s understanding of this stuff. According to Einstein, as you approach the speed of light, you not only require exponentially more energy as you acquire more mass, but you also experience the flow of time differently than the universe around you. The closer you get to light speed, the more the variance between the vessel and everything else outside it, so at high speeds a trip that only takes a few months for the crew of a ship would happen over centuries for everyone else. I was glad to hear that these Confederation guys had found a way around that problem.

  “And this is all safe?”

  “There are risks, of course,” Dr. Roop said, “but our safety record is significantly better than that of your auto travel on this planet, and superior even to your own aviation travel.”

  That was all good to know, but no matter how safe it was, my mother was not going to like the idea of me going off into space.

  Apparently reading my mind, Ms. Price handed me a file containing an alarmingly thick document.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “That,” she said, “is a permission slip.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  * * *

  I spent the night in a guest room that felt like a cross between a wedding suite and a mountain-man hideout. In the morning I found a tray outside my door containing juice, some fruit, and a pastry. There was also a note telling me to come down to Ms. Price’s office at exactly eleven. I was on time, because that’s the kind of guy I am.

  The first thing Ms. Price had me do, once she finished ignoring me for twenty minutes, was call my mother. I didn’t love the idea of her being summoned to Camp David, but I supposed it was a step up from being called to the principal’s office. When I spoke to her, I swore that everything was fine—better than fine—and that I really had been given an incredible opportunity. Then Ms. Price took the phone and told her a car was already on its way and she should be ready in an hour. Then she hung up on my mother.

  “I suppose you’ll want to meet the other children,” she said.

  “What, they’re here?”

  She nodded. “The participating nations agreed that a single location was preferable to having alien craft zipping all over the planet. Everyone was flown in on conventional aircraft last night. They’ll head up to the ship later today, and you’ll join them once your affairs are settled.”

  “Then, sure,” I said. “That would be great.”

  She led me through a series of hallways and into what looked like a high-level meeting room. There was a long wooden table, and on one wall were multiple video screens of the sort that allow a president to keep an eye on wars as they unfold.

  Inside, I also saw the other kids from the slide show. Charles D’Ujanga and Park Mi Sun were both sitting at the table, reading through thick binders. Charles wore khaki pants, a white short-sleeved dress shirt and a tie. Tae Kwon Do Girl wore jeans and a long-sleeved patterned shirt. Her hair was cut short, and though she had seemed pretty in the picture I’d seen, her scowl made her appear a little intimidating. They both looked up when I stepped into the room. Charles grinned broadly.

  Then I saw Nayana Gehlawat. She wore dark jeans and a green and gold shirt that looked like material for a sari, with a matching scarf around her neck. Her hair was long and a little wild, falling into her eyes. I was also impressed by the fact that she was sitting in a chair, legs pulled under her, reading a paperback copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

  I wanted to go talk to her at once, but Charles was up and out of his chair, pumping my hand. “You must be Ezekiel Reynolds,” he said. His voice had a clipped and precise accent. “I am Charles D’Ujanga, and I am pleased to meet you.”

  “Zeke,” I said. “Great to meet you too.”

  Park Mi Sun looked up from her reading and gave me a brief nod. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” I answered to show I could be unenthusiastic too if I wanted.

  Charles interrupted our brilliant exchange. “This is truly the m
ost amazing thing, don’t you agree? There is so much to do—papers to sign and meetings and arrangements—that it is easy to forget that we have met a being from another world, and we shall soon meet many more.”

  “Dude,” I said. “Totally.” He was more articulate than I was, but I appreciated that he was having the same trouble I was in getting my head around it.

  “What’s in those binders you guys have?” I asked.

  “They are our individual governments’ directives,” he said. “You will not need one because a member of your government travels with you. I understand you are to follow us tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “Assuming I can get my mother to agree to let me go.”

  “I cannot imagine she would object to you having this incredible experience!” I hadn’t met a lot of people who spoke with exclamation marks, but he was one of them.

  “Yeah,” I said, but I knew he could probably not imagine she had ALS, either.

  “I hope you will excuse me.” He gestured toward his binder. “I must demonstrate my understanding of my government’s policy before I am cleared to depart.”

  “Sure,” I said. I headed over to Nayana. Unlike the South Korean girl, she did not seem to have a do-not-disturb sign swinging from her psychic doorknob. As I approached, she held up the book and met my gaze. “Have you read this?” she asked. She had an extremely proper British accent, which I suspected was real and not the translator.

  “Sure, like a dozen times,” I said. “It’s hilarious.”

  She tossed it onto the table. “Papa gave it to me before I left, but I find it far too silly.”

  By some miracle of self-control I kept myself from displaying disbelief. “It’s supposed to be silly. That’s why it’s fun.” I chose to say nothing about Douglas Adams’s connection to Doctor Who, because this felt like the wrong way to get on her good side.

  She studied me for a long moment, as though she could not quite believe what I was saying. I, on the other hand, was wondering if it was possible to spend a year with someone who didn’t like Hitchhiker’s Guide.