Today would be a big one....
Bruce, the Secretary General of the United Nations of Earth, has spent centuries trying to protect, develop and unite humanity.
When a distinctly non-human arrival seems to offer a way to do this, once and for all, he wi...
Bruce brought muffins through from the kitchen. The warm smells of yeast and chocolate mingled with the miasma of coffee in the lounge. Ruslan blinked, returning to the room.
"How's it going?" Bruce asked.
"Fascinating" Ruslan answered, grabbing and biting a hot muffin and grinning a molten chocolate grin. Bruce wiped chocolate from his chin and set the muffins down to cool.
"They're just talking about the weather. Apparently another Species had a similar problem after their experiences with fossil fuels - they're the only other ones that ever went through a phase of biomass energy dependence. They're from a similar world to Earth, although much bigger and you wouldn't believe what they look like. Nothing like anything from Earth that's for sure. But a similar temperature range and chemical composition. They basically re-terraformed their planet after it got wrecked, they think they could do the same here." He paused to slurp some coffee, loudly. "Wouldn't that be something? Imagine that, all those lost lands restored. A rebirth of Earth." He sniggered at the rhyme. "We could even have people on Africa someday."
"Jeez," Bruce sat down heavily next to him, "for real?"
"Yeah," said Ruslan, "for real and for free. Just like everything else they've done. Species help Species remember? That's the only law."
"Yeah," Bruce squirmed. "How could I forget?" The messages from Dave had been... creative and fluent in their abuse.
"Meh, Mars will adapt." Said Ruslan cheerily. Always the optimist. "Eventually they'll see how much happier than can be without all that capitalist cut throat ambition stuff."
"Maybe."
"But, just between you and me, did you suspect at all? You know, when you met Dave, did you think that there was a chance trade was only human? That it doesn't exist anywhere else?"
Bruce stared at him in horror and Ruslan's horror stared back at him. No need for uploads, no need for reconnecting, everyone connected to everyone else. Nothing between you and me. No secrets, no privacy.
Ruslan started to try to apologise as a red malware warning started to blink in Bruce's peripheral vision. "Bruce," he said "Bruce, I'm sorry, I didn't think, I'm so sorry..." Ruslan stuttered on in terror.
Because as soon as a question is asked a mind forms an answer. And Ruslan knew immediately what Bruce's answer was. And so did everyone else. Including half a billion Martians.
The malware light flickered like a red strobe, filling Bruce's field of vision.
"It's okay, Ruslan, it's okay it's okay, it was first contact, it was the only thing that could ever unite us, I'm sure...."
And his lounge disappeared. It was cold and approaching what seemed like twilight, rather than the warm and bright morning he had just been enjoying, the sun visible as a pale silhouette in the overcast. He was, embarrassingly, still in his dressing gown. A projection. That's what the malware warning was. Someone had hacked him and forced him into a projection.
A window shattered as a rock flew through it. Sensors loudly complained about an oxygen and heat leak, and complained even more about someone letting in cold carbon dioxide. They pointed out the current market values of warm oxygen. He walked over to the rock. It was the colour of rust. He could hear screaming outside. It was quite far away, and the rock was huge. Surely nobody could have thrown it that far?
He looked towards the horizon. Beyond a red dirt balcony stretched red dirt domes as far as the eye could see, beneath a dusty pink sky. Ah. He bounced on his toes. About a third as heavy. More than enough to chuck a boulder from wherever those voices were coming from. Especially, he supposed, if they happened to be very tall.
Dave's projection appeared. His clothing was torn. His face bloody. Impossible. Not on Mars. Companies don't allow violence. They prohibit it, strongly. But of course, a lot of them had gone into liquidation. No employer, no government. Without the fear of HR action and dismissal, what could the Martians become like? What sounded like an explosion rumbled in the distance, seemingly in answer to his unspoken question. It was not the answer he wanted.
"I think we need to talk, Bruce," Dave growled, "don't you?"
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