― Isaac Asimov
"You don't choose the aliens," Paul Hellyer told me once, "the aliens choose you." I have to admit that seems a common theme in almost ever alien contact account I have ever read.
I certainly didn't choose this calling of being the aliens' prophet―I had no idea what Shannon Holmes had planned when she chose me to moderate a radio show called Chatter. But now, also being aware of what Maine Blair had in mind, I feel like Jeremiah, the reluctant prophet, out beyond my depth, wanting someone else to go in my stead.
If the aliens can convey their thoughts to me in dreams, I'm good with that, but I don't want a dramatic face to face with other worldly beings―it'd be like holding a seance with demons.
Sorry, but I can't deal with anything inhuman and I'm not about to sacrifice my life to facilitate interplanetary communication. I'll relate the odd dream, but that's the extent of my commitment.
I'm sitting in my den waiting for the Inner Circle to show up―my alliance of three strong woman who are going to decide what to do with the sealed file Blair entrusted to me along with the alien artifact.
They can take the whole damn lot for all I care and bury it in a vault somewhere or destroy it if it suits them. I want out of this whole mess and if that's what it takes, I wish God speed to them.
Yeah, CSIS and the RCMP, can take it and run―cover it up another seventy years and gag the media and threaten them with the Official Secrets Act if they dare breathe a word of this.
I'm done―I'm out. I want no more part of this.
As usual, Elise arrives first and helps me make coffee and calms me down―the latter , the most important task, seeing as I'm practically walking on the ceiling.
Abigail and Jules arrive together and once again we sit in my den with the artifact and the documents sitting on the coffee table before us.
Abigail begins with her usual request, "I think it best you surrender the documents to me for safekeeping."
Jules rolls her eyes. "Of course, you'd say that. I suppose you want to bury them somewhere so they'll never see the light of day."
Elise intervenes, "I think we all agree that the security of the documents is of utmost importance, followed by the need to inform the public of their existence."
She turn to me. "What do you think, Cole?"
I don't want to tell them what I really think, but I'm tired of this whole business and just want closure.
"I think Elise outlined my two concerns―I think we can all agree on that. The main problem involves provenance―who should have the ownership of the materials and how the alien presence should be disclosed."
Abigail looked pleased. "Good. It seems we're making some progress here."
"Making a simple decision on where to store the materials is one thing," Jules observed, "but holding each other responsible for full disclosure is another."
Abigail seemed unaffected by Jukes' remark. "The government has already acknowledged they've been studying UAP's for some time. Recently revealed navy video footage of UAP's has been a big step in the disclosure process. We have to avoid a precipitous announcement that would cause widespread panic and weaken trust in the government."
Jules chuckled bitterly. "Finding out the government has been lying for seventy years might weaken some people's trust in their own government."
Abigail refused to take the bait.
"I think some form of soft disclosure is inevitable, but we have to proceed slowly because part of that disclosure will involve being honest about technology we already possess that could make energy so affordable as to be almost free."
Jules was back to rolling her eyes. "Of course, both your agencies would want to drag their heels on making free energy available, since the energy cartels control a lot of government policy."
"It's not a conspiracy, Jules," Elise spoke up, "it's recognition that if you suddenly introduce low cost energy, the world economic system might collapse. Energy based countries such as Saudi Arabia and Russia would suffer greatly and would need time to diversify their economies if they hoped to survive."
At this point, I intervened. "We could argue these points all night. What I'm wondering is if CSIS and the RCMP would be willing to hold a joint news conference acknowledging the alien presence as well as the alien artifact and allow Jules to fully cover the story. The pace and extent of continued disclosure could be worked out later, because once the public knows the phenomenon is real, full disclosure will be inevitable."
The room fell silent. Finally, Elise spoke up, "I'd certainly be agreeable to that compromise―it avoids the disruptive effect that Maine Blair's disclosure would have caused and allows us to some extent to control the release of information."
Abigail grudgingly concurred, "It would be the most prudent course to take under the circumstances."
"Then, we're all agreed," I said. "I'll surrender the materials to Abigail so the RCMP can secure their safety. The news conference should take place as soon as possible. I'd suggest within 48 hours―that will give both agencies time to draft a
joint response."
I watched as Abigail packed up the materials and called for backup to transport them to a secure facility. A half hour later, everyone left and I was sitting alone by the fire contemplating what lay ahead.
The rains of the past several days had turned to snow, more appropriate to February, and ticking of flakes against the window only seemed to emphasize how empty the house felt.
The artifact was gone and I wasn't certain if I missed it or was happy it was now removed from my premises.
I wondered if its aura being absent would lessen my ability to receive the aliens' thought pictures and part of me sincerely hoped that would be the case.
The whole business had seemed a fog that only now had somewhat lifted and I hoped the artifact's absence would mark an end to these strange circumstances.
But what I really missed was Elise sitting here beside me, staring into the fireplace flames, while snow ticked against the window pane.