You don’t usually suffer hallucinations while on a walking meditation, but as I rounded a turn along the forest trail, I faced a six-foot-high, bright yellow rubber ducky.

Well, that’s what it reminded me of at first sight. A graceful neck rose from the body. The head on top had an eye looking at me, and eyes bulged on either side. I was sure there had to be an eye looking backward, too. Instead of a beak, it had four foot-long tentacle-like fingers that cheerfully wiggled at me. There didn’t seem to be any wings or legs.

I froze on the spot. Wouldn’t you?

A silver glow enfolded me before I could turn and run, and something stroked my mind. I was in heaven, and Loved. It felt so wonderful I forgot my terror and just enjoyed being someone’s kitten.

After an unmeasured time of this, a voice spoke within my mind. “G’day, Bob, I’m Kgzgdl and this is a projection of me, since I can’t live on your planet.”

“Where are you from?” I didn’t risk trying to repeat the name. I mean, see if you can say something made up of all consonants. “And how can you speak with me?”

The voice in my mind sounded surprised. “Didn’t you feel the connector machine? You see, the essence of the Universe is Love for all of its components, and All is One. The machine taps into that and now feeds me all the information I need as if I were part of your family.”

I’ve always wanted alien cousins. “All right, then,” I said, “if you’re family, welcome. How can I be of service to you?”

“We need to find a new home because our planet will become uninhabitable within a couple of our generations. Venus would be perfect for us, so we’ve come to ask humanity’s permission to settle there. You humans are one of five sentient species we have found, and in effect I’m my species’ ambassador to yours. And oh yes, naturally I have a backward-facing eye, too. I am amazed humans don’t.”

“Why did you choose me out of about eight billion humans?”

Kgzgdl laughed within my mind. “When you send out emails, you attach a picture with some words. One has ‘All sentient beings are my family.’ How many of those eight billion people would welcome an alien as a cousin? And how many are science fiction writers?”

I gazed around at the everyday beauty of the Australian bush—towering giants sweetening the air with their eucalyptus perfume, tree ferns gently waving to me with their fronds in the light breeze, native violets shyly peeking up from the leaf litter. I heard a lyrebird clucking somewhere nearby. How could something so extraordinary grace such an ordinary day? But I had to answer this unbelievable visitation.

“All too many are science fiction writers, but I guess few have a mind as quirky as mine. All but one of those eight billion are out of step with me.”

“We set the criteria for a search, and this is one of several reasons you came up tops. We arrived in your solar system 256 years in your future and found your planet to be in a terrible mess. Oh, by the way, the people in your future had trouble pronouncing our words, just like you. The pronoun for one of us is ‘crft,’ but ‘my friend’ will do. Anyway, I sent this image back to fix things. I’ll give you a complete account. Record it all as if it were fiction and publish the story. Our projections predict it will become a bestseller, and then it’ll be made into a movie that will influence millions, and that will produce a cascading effect.”

“Thank you.” I certainly had no objection to help in writing a bestseller, and even less objection to saving the future from disaster, but I had to say, “You can’t change the future by modifying my time, because then what you observed 256 years from now will never happen.”

If a voice in your mind can grin, Kgzgdl’s was doing it. “That’s the point. I’ll fix your problems, and then we can arrive to find your descendants living a good life, with the catastrophe averted. First I’ll tell you why we are here, then skip the details and bring you up to date about what we found on Earth in your year 2289. So, Cousin Bob, just do it.”

I gave up arguing about the time travel paradox. “Sounds like a plan.”

Kgzgdl did something like clicking an internal switch, and I became a passenger in my new alien cousin’s mind as well as continuing to be myself…

Cataclysm!

What could be more wonderful than being a young parent for the first time? Kgzgdl and crft’s three co-parents form a protective square around their four tiny babies, all of them happily feeding on the bounty of the sea, with the sun blessedly blazing in the green sky above, when all four of their communicators come to life. “In exactly one interval, the President will address everyone.”

“I wonder what this is about? It just has to be something terrible,” Drxl says. Kgzgdl’s oldest co-parent, Grtr, answers, “We’ll know in an interval less three instants. However bad it is, worrying will only add to the problem, not reduce it.”

It’s all very well to say that, but it doesn’t stop the worrying. Kgzgdl looks at crft’s lovely little babies, at the beautiful sulfur-rich bay they’re in, and worries about not being able to stop worrying. And of course time slows when you want to speed it up. But after an endless wait, the President speaks.

For the past two planetary orbits, since its approach was first detected, everyone on the planet has been following the news about the invader into our solar system. We know it has more than 4+1 times the mass of our planet, but we hoped it would pass through and exit, given its tremendous speed.

This morning, the College of Astronomers were able to provide an exact mapping of its trajectory. Dear people, I am sorry. Our sun will capture it, and it will settle into a highly elliptical orbit.

From now on, it’s the 4x2th and second most massive planet.

It will orbit close to the sun, then, like a comet, swing out to the far reaches before plummeting again. We’ll be safe during its first two passages, but on the third pass, it will come very close to us. This will cause disastrous tidal waves and volcanic action.

Those are survivable, but there is worse. Our astronomers’ calculations show that the invader will capture us. We’ll become its moon and follow it to the outer reaches of the solar system so everything will freeze for long enough to kill all life on our precious, beautiful home.

The good news is that we have time. The invader’s orbit will take more than 44 of our planetary orbits. Well before the third of these, we need to find a new home in another stellar system.

From this instant, everyone’s job is to work for survival.

***

Kgzgdl clicked me back into my own consciousness.

I said, “You know what? While I was within your mind, I was also aware of myself, something like when being hypnotized. We have a saintly old man, the Dalai Lama, who has said something similar about worrying being of no use. Your co-parent is a wise person.”

“Sure, but it didn’t work for me, back then. But, Cousin Bob, here I am, as the fruit of all that effort. We developed interstellar travel. My vehicle can attain half the speed of light, and the sixteen crew members were in hibernation during our travel. By the way, I find it strange that your number system is based on ten instead of the logical four. Then we spent fifty-two of your years in your solar system before investigating Earth. We couldn’t believe that life, never mind intelligent life, could live in the presence of oxygen, so it was a sort of last resort. And let me tell you, what we found was no resort.”

Wow. This connector machine had really captured my way of thinking. That’s just the kind of pun I’d make. “Strange. Our belief has been that life needs oxygen.”

The voice in my mind shuddered. “If I were exposed to it, much of my body would risk burning to sulfur dioxide! Anyway, back to my report of what we found in your future. We did a spiral orbit of Earth, recording what was below. We can use it for the movie. There were signs of huge fires, which of course we put down to the presence of oxygen. Mysterious rubble covered many places, as if some kind of artificial stone structures had been pulverized. Many of these had skeletal tall towers and some of the rubble was reflective—completely mysterious to us at the time. We saw what just had to be tidal wave damage far inland, and most inexplicable, large radioactive areas.”

I don’t know how it happened. I was cowering on the ground, head on the leaf litter of the forest path, sobbing like an orphaned child. Yeah sure, big boys don’t cry, but I was doing it, unable to stop, unable to breathe even. The world was a dark hole sucking me into it, down, down into the pits of the worst grief I’d ever experienced, and heaven knows, I’ve grieved many a time.

Naturally, Kgzgdl perceived my emotions and joined me in despair. This alien sibling of my spirit and I grieved together, but at last crft’s internal voice said, “Bob, this is why I just had to come back and fix things.”

“Were there any humans left?”

“Yes. On our second round, we went in a low orbit with lights flashing in a wide range of wavelengths, and we broadcast music. Three groups responded. There may have been others that were too small for our instruments to detect, and who chose to stay hidden from us.”

“That’s something at least. How many in total?”

“A little over three and a half thousand.”

Once more, I exploded with grief. Eight billion in my time, reduced to a small town’s worth.

Kgzgdl asked, “Can you please explain those odd features?” No doubt this was to distract me from my despair. Despite the crushing weight of Kgzgdl’s news, I smiled inside: I’ve often used the same trick of distraction with people in my care.

“That rubble you saw was the home of many millions of people, struck by explosive devices. The radioactive parts were deliberately caused nuclear explosions with the same purpose.”

Kgzgdl’s horror filled my mind. Crft could not have felt more despair if those killed had been part of crft’s species, part of crft’s family. “The people in your future told me of what they call the Final War. I still simply cannot believe that an intelligent species can do such things.”

I wished I couldn’t believe it either. “Do your people have wars?”

“I didn’t know of the concept until your descendants explained it to me. I seem to remember from school, there was physical conflict in prehistoric times, but harming anyone is against our religion.”

How wonderful. An enlightened society. For much of my life, I’ve worked for a global culture of peace, cooperation, empathy—as it turns out, Kgzgdl’s global culture. I said, “Only one religion? We have many, but you know what? Every one of them also forbids harming anyone.” I focused on the teachings of the Buddha, of Jesus, of Confucius, of Deganawida, on Immanuel Kant’s philosophy, and knew Kgzgdl received the message.

Sadly, though, I needed to be honest. “But people do harm to each other anyway. I belong to a group called ‘World Beyond War.’ We say, ‘The first casualty in war is the truth. The rest are mostly civilians.’ And—”

Kgzgdl sounded confused to the nth degree as crft cut me off. “Too many bizarre concepts, Bob. ‘Truth’ is saying what you believe to be accurate. We never, ever do otherwise. ‘Casualty…’ OK, I got it from your mind. Someone killed. Now ‘civilian:’ someone not employed to kill other people?”

I had to sigh, ashamed of my species. “Yes. From my visit to your memories, I know that your people have a single planetary government. We have separate nations that sometimes attack each other, and there is also smaller scale violence.”

Kgzgdl’s four nose-limbs drooped, crft’s head hung down, and crft’s compassion filled me within. “How sad. How terrible. A wise woman in your future explained nations to me. But you said your religions tell you not to do such things.”

Sigh. And sigh again. “They do, and yet are twisted into excuses for violence. But there is worse. Those great fires, the tidal waves far inland, are the final effects of greed.”

Kgzgdl stayed silent for a while, no doubt processing relevant concepts, then, “OK, I understand money. We have a computer-based system for measuring the comparative value of things and services. But greed is wanting more money without limit, right? What for?”

“I wish I knew. One of my habitual sayings is, money can cost more than it’s worth.”

Kgzgdl laughed within my mind.

How to explain greed? I gave a summary of how fossil carbon accumulated through the eons, the Industrial Revolution with its mixture of amazing advances and unspeakable cruelty, the consumer society that consumed the planet, and the concentration of wealth through all of history. Then I said, “In my time, a small bunch of people have more wealth than all the rest of humanity combined. Having wealth is not the problem. The problem is that you can use it to buy power over other people, and that’s addictive. Then the more power you have, the more you want without limit, and us humans are very good at explaining away our actions, of self-justifying the worst we can do.”

“All right, Sibling Bob, but how did that lead to those great waves and great fires?”

“Our selfish economy has been a process of converting nature into pollution as fast as possible, and it is fueled by that fossil carbon. That puts carbon dioxide and methane into our atmosphere—”

“Right. Got it. That traps solar heat. That’s our problem with Venus. That planet is potential heaven under a blanket of hellish heat.”

“You’re really getting my way of thinking, aren’t you?”

Kgzgdl again laughed at me. “Siblings are supposed to be similar. See, I know your love of alliteration. Anyway, we need to lower the temperature so we can get close enough. Then we’ll remove carbon dioxide and import water. The frozen moons of your outer planets have plenty. All three groups we approached in your future gave us permission to settle on Venus. Sending this image back is fueled with cooling the planet down. But when you and I have changed your future, those groups won’t exist… oh the people might but living entirely different lives. So, we need your time’s permission as well.”

“Right. I officially give you that permission. Get going and do it.”

“Yes, President Bob.”

“Sure, I am an unknown nobody, but no human could possibly be insane enough to deny you permission. Besides, how could we stop you if we wanted to? And why would we want to?” Indeed, I could see many benefits of having a planetful of benevolent Rubber Duckies with superior technology as our neighbors.

“That’s not the point. It is your solar system. It’s a matter of ethics to ask for permission.”

I had a thought. “Hey, if you can remove carbon dioxide from Venus, can you remove it from Earth?”

“Of course, 256 years into your future.”

“Can you physically come back?”

Kgzgdl waved two of those four limbs where a nose or beak should be. “This image has zero mass. To send it back uses so much energy that it is half of what we need for cooling Venus. To send even a gram of matter back would need more energy than what your entire sun emits during one of your planetary revolutions… days.”

Pity. “Not a good idea. But maybe you… your image can visit our real decision-makers, and instruct scientists in using your amazing technology?”

Kgzgdl sent nonverbal sadness, then, “We already have considerable information about the rulers of your planet from one of the three groups we found when we arrived. This is why my fifteen colleagues and I chose to do things indirectly. We want to show the people of your time the future they are creating unless the entire species make immediate major changes, you know, like following what your many religions tell you. Cooperation, cherishing everyone and everything, as in ‘all sentient beings are my family’ like you have on that card you attach to your emails.”

“All right, dear friend. Show me.”

And again, click, and this time I was within the mind of a very old man in Nepal.

Nepal, 2289

Sitting in the rocking chair he’d made all those many years ago for his grandfather, Ramesh needs to consider how to respond to Eniya as she cries, “Oh, I do think we’re the last people left alive!”

How right she is! In all this wide world, once the home to billions of people, perhaps only their little group of twenty-two has survived. Soaring cities, mighty armies, lovely people going about their everyday lives, all gone. Ramesh remembers the internet, radio, television, and phones of his childhood. He hides a sigh.

But his task is to ease her despair, not to share it. “My darling little one, my precious great-granddaughter, I remember way back, I learned that all humans are descended from only six women. And here we have three girls and three boys. When you grow up, you can be the mothers and fathers of the new humanity. You’ll be famous forever!”

It works. She cheers up. “But… but great-grandfather, how could they tell?”

“Uh… in your body there are little things that only come from the mother. And there are only six kinds. That’s what I remember from school.”

“I wish there was still school. We’re so lucky to have you around!”

But afterward, when the little one is out of hearing, Pema says to him, “Grandfather, I wish you didn’t cling to hope. What’s the point? Everything else is dead. We’d be better off dead, too.”

“It’ll come soon enough, but actually it’s not nonsense. Those little things are called… I can’t remember… mito-somethings. There is one in every cell of your body, and they come from six mothers. But I do remember something else. When I was learning English, we had to read a book about Winnie the Pooh and there was a donkey called Eeyore, who was always full of gloom. Isn’t that you?”

She sniffs. “What’s there not to be gloomy about?”

Ramesh looks at the skyline—the magnificent mountains with tiny bits of white still clinging to the tops. He feasts his eyes on the clouds drifting under a pale blue sky, then on the neighboring hill covered in pink rhododendrons. He glances at the forceful movements of the men tilling the fields, helping nature with the magic of making food from soil. He remembers the terrible smog of New Delphi when he was a university student there, and savors the beautiful, clear mountain air. “There is only this moment. This moment is good. So, for now, life is good.”

Pema turns away with a grunt, picks up a couple of buckets and trundles off to fetch water.

Ramesh leans forward, picks up his walking stick and struggles to his feet, intending to perform his usual task of preparing the midday meal for everyone, when the weirdest noise you couldn’t possibly even imagine comes from way up high. Ramesh cranes his neck to look up, although that hurts his back. A yellow ball skips in and out from the gaps between the clouds. Flashes of light of many colors come from it, so bright that they shine through the clouds even when it is above them. The ball looks tiny, but only because of its height. It must be some kind of enormous flying machine. Visitors! Contact! Someone else alive!

“Quick!” he shouts. “Somebody, light a fire!”

Madhav rushes out of his hut, follows Ramesh’s gaze, then runs in and out again, holding the little hand mirror he is so proud of. He catches the sunlight and aims the reflection toward the thing.

Pema of course says, “What if they’re hostile?”

If they are, it is too late. The thing is growing in apparent size as it lowers with great speed.

Ramesh’s heart is singing; his spirit is floating up there with the strange object. He may be too old to dance, but his inner being is dancing all the same.

The yellow globe is huge as it stops about three hundred meters above the little village. Like a chicken laying an egg, it extrudes a much smaller yellow ball, which floats down to the ground.

What lands in front of him is a transparent globe, with yellow liquid filling the lower third. Floating on the surface is… hey, a yellow rubber ducky, like the one he had brought home when working in London… when there was a London. His daughter, Ugdita, was just a baby then, and now she is an old woman. The strange person is perhaps a little under two meters long and as high. A bulbous eye gazes at Ramesh, and as the alien moves its head, Ramesh can see another two at right angles to it. Instead of a beak, it has… heavens, imagine four elephant trunks but as thin as your thumb.

Ramesh faces it and he cannot help grinning. What an honor, to be the first human to meet an alien! All the others are behind him.

Now what?

Ramesh bows, holding his palms together in front of his face. Yes, that’s a sign of respect, but could this alien possibly know that?

As he straightens, he feels a delightful sensation, like a tickling in his mind. It is indescribably beautiful, making him feel cherished, loved, understood. Yes, this is the metta of Buddhism, the unconditional love of Christianity. It goes on for half an hour, then, incredibly, Nepali words come from the globe: “Greetings. My name is Kgzgdl and I am the captain of this space vehicle. We have seen many signs of a great disaster and may be able to offer help if you will accept it.”

“Oh, thank you! Yes please!” If their technology understands language, no doubt it understands gestures, so once more Ramesh shows the sign of respect.

“We come from a star system fifty light-years from here. Our planet will soon become uninhabitable, so when we received radio transmissions from here, we came to make friends.”

“You’re welcome to share Earth with us,” he says, ignoring Pema’s “Oh no!” behind him.

The alien waves one of its nose-limbs side to side. “We cannot live on your planet. Your atmosphere is deadly to us, which is why I am in this sealed capsule. However, if we can make Venus cooler, we can transform it into just what we need.”

“Please, please, please, settle on Venus!”

The yellow person’s mind smiles at Ramesh. “Thank you. First we’ll continue exploring and see if we can find other survivors. And if we may, we’ll cause changes to fix your world. The energy for that will come from Venus’s heat, so it can be part of our preparation.”

Oh, I wish you would stay! Ramesh thinks but again repeats the gesture of respect as a goodbye.

“We’ll be back.” The alien waves at him one of with its nose-limbs, and the globe rises off the ground then floats up into the enormous spaceship.

***

That internal click, and I was Bob again.

Kgzgdl said, “You have two sexes, while we only have one. Have you ever wanted to experience being a woman?”

I didn’t expect my honorary sibling to play smutty games.

“No, no! I get the meaning from your mind, sort of, though it’s in principle impossible for my species. This person is the captain of a mighty ship. You can share her consciousness next.”

Arctic Ocean

A huge storm is throwing the great ship about as if it was an autumn leaf in a gale. Even here, in the depths of the structure, the roar is a soul-crushing avalanche of sound, rising and falling in pitch but never softening.

Captain Birna Holgersdottir puts a good face on it, but thinks, Oh God, I hope this is not the end! After all, the European Union Lifeboat is ninety years old, and despite all the loving maintenance, it cannot last forever. The survival the last of humanity is in my care, she thinks as almost every day, but worry is a distraction from action.

Strapped into her chair, she issues a crisp series of orders via the computer, although she knows that her staff are competent and as keen on surviving as she is.

The door slides open, and First Officer Pierre Coutin staggers in, his gloved right hand grasping the safety line. She sees his mouth move, and hears his voice through her headphones, “It’s all right, Captain. We’ve survived storms before.” But his voice betrays his tension, the worry.

Chief Engineer Luigi Prescott’s face appears on the screen. “Captain, there is a serious crack in the wall of the reactor compartment. My crew is using the last of the epoxy to repair it, so we should be safe… for now.”

Birna can imagine how difficult and dangerous that work must be while the ship is doing a mad ballet on waves the size of mountains. She notices that her hands are shaking. Oh, to be able to hand this terrible responsibility over to someone else! But, I’m in command, and that’s that. The occupants of this ship are the seed that will need to grow back to repopulate the planet, once it is safe for reoccupation. They are all my children, she thinks, another of her self-torturing repeated thoughts.

Chief Communications Officer Alice Morteau’s voice in her headphones soon interrupts her despair. “Captain, there are strange radio transmissions in a wide range of wavelengths. They are definitely artificial, but the weirdest I’ve ever heard.”

This is the first external signal in many years. “Patch me in.”

A high-pitched rhythmic ululation overlies a deep roaring sound, which makes Birna think of a happy dinosaur. A loud clicking noise syncopates with the musical wail, changing unpredictably in pitch, and there are other components, more than you’d find in a symphony orchestra with each instrument playing a different tune.

Birna was born on the Lifeboat and has never been seasick in all her life. The great storm hasn’t physically bothered her, but this music, cheerful as it sounds, gets her nauseous. “Thank you, Alice.”

The noise stops, thank heavens.

“Broadcast our location indicator.”

“If it still works! We haven’t used it in decades.”

But Birna’s earphones receive “European Union Lifeboat, coordinates 75.2482 degrees North 69.1057 degrees West” over and over.

There is a definite easing in the ship’s movements. Something—someone—is reducing the waves.

Birna says, “Alice, activate the vertical radar.”

Alice laughs. It smells of mothballs… Hey yes!”

“Go on.”

There is a huge but huge object directly overhead. Altitude 20,000 meters and rapidly descending.”

It can only be extraterrestrial. How exciting!

“Cavalry to the rescue,” Pierre says with a laugh. He activates three external cameras. They only show towering waves of force and foam crashing onto the deck.

Birna had actually forgotten about the First Officer, now strapped into the seat beside her. Obviously, the visitors must be responsible for the ship no longer dancing like a ping-pong ball in a fountain.

The movements are still rapidly easing.

Alice reports, “Object now stationary, altitude 317 meters.”

Pierre’s fingers dance on the keyboard, and the cameras swivel to vertical.

Like in a medieval painting, a chiaroscuro of golden light pierces the swirling black clouds overhead. They strike the sea in a wide and expanding circle around the Lifeboat. No waves rise within this circle, merely the surface heaving up and down as a whole because of the fluctuating pressure outside it. Cavalry to the rescue indeed. That light must be smoothing the sea, never mind how. She wipes tears of gratitude from her face: gratitude for their action, and gratitude that all the myths about extraterrestrials being hostile must be wrong.

A bright yellow globe drops through the clouds and lowers toward the upper deck.

Birna and Pierre snap restraint buckles and bound out of their chairs at the same time. He is twenty years younger and through the door well before she is but then stops and turns back. “Captain, ma’am, you must be the first to greet them,” he says with unaccustomed formality.

She gravely nods while hurrying toward the elevator at the best speed she can manage, which feels like a snail’s progress. She activates her microphone and says, “All senior officers except Alice Morteau to the upper deck. Alice, keep everyone updated.”

They step into the elevator, which shoots for the top deck.

Alice says as the elevator doors open, “Descending object has landed.”

Birna orders her to come, too, now that she is no longer needed at her duty station.

The small crowd of men and women part, ushering her and Pierre forward.

The object is a transparent ball. As she stops before it, she is enfolded in a silver glow, becoming a cherished child in mother’s arms, an orphan who has found a home, a jewel polished to perfection.

The alien person within the globe floats on yellow fluid. It reminds her of a large ostrich, except it is a sulfur yellow in color and has no legs or wings. Where a bird would have a beak, it has four mobile limbs, about thirty centimeters long, which must be its manipulative organs. The single eye above them merrily glints at her.

While enjoying the loving stroking of her mind, Birna has attention enough to glance at her crew. Pierre beside her, the officers on each side, look enthralled, in a trance. So, they must be experiencing this, too.

She notes a dark horizontal gap, perhaps a mouth, at the level of the fluid supporting the alien. It makes her think of baleen whales, before, sadly, they became extinct.

At last, surprisingly, speech comes from the globe in French, which is the Lifeboat’s official language. “Greetings dear friends,” it says. “I am Kgzgdl. We have come to ask your permission to become your neighbors on Venus. Having examined your planet, it’s just as well. We hope to be of service to Humanity by fixing your terrible problems.”

Remarkable that an alien can learn a human language, and so fast. Birna’s reaction is a mixture of sob and laughter. She says, “Humanity? As far as we know, we’re the last survivors.”

“Not quite. We have made lovely friends in a high valley in Nepal and are still to explore your Southern Hemisphere.”

“Certainly, you’re welcome to settle on Venus. It’s not like we had any use for it! But it is way too hot for any kind of life, and its high concentration of sulfur makes it toxic.”

The alien laughs. Hey, it can mimic emotional expression! “The oxygen on Earth is toxic to us. Sulfur is exactly what we need. We have the technology to cool the planet, then remove carbon dioxide and import water. We thought we could take the carbon dioxide to your next planet out… thank you, your thought provides the name, Mars, and also supply that with water, providing humans with two planets to live on.”

A great stab of grief strikes through Birna’s heart. “Before the Final War, there were about six billion humans. In the twenty-first century, at the peak, there were nearly nine billion. Now… now there is us, a little more than one and a half thousand, and those people in Nepal, and maybe a few more you will find in Africa or South America or Australia. But I doubt any could have survived. The island nations have all been drowned by sea level rise. I don’t think we’ll ever need a second planet.”

“No,” Pierre says, “But if Mars became habitable, we could go there instead of needing to live on a radioactive planet.”

The alien person says, “We’ll stay above you until the storm eases. Chief Engineer Luigi Prescott, please provide me with the chemical formula for epoxy.”

Luigi turns and sprints toward the nearest computer terminal, which is on the bridge.

“Each of you, please list what irreplaceable substances you are running out of. You do not need to speak aloud.”

Several others race toward various nearby computer terminals. There is a brief silence, then the alien continues, “Thank you. We are preparing them all.”

Birna asks, “Are you typical of your species with such benevolence?”

The alien’s voice carries surprise. “Isn’t it typical of yours? We thought it was part of being an intelligent person. Cooperation and mutual help are the strongest forces for survival, so our belief has been that it is the result of natural evolution.”

“I wish! If humans were like you, we wouldn’t have destroyed everything.” Birna’s legs ache and her back is sore after the battering from the great storm, but nothing would make her miss a second of this amazing person’s company.

The alien says, “Chief Communications Officer Alice Morteau, since you are the closest person to the exit, you may be kind enough to bring Captain Holgersdottir a chair.”

Within seconds, Birna smiles her thanks and sits, while Dr. George Popescon says, “I am fascinated by our physical differences. Can you please explain your physiology?”

“We breathe in carbon dioxide. Our digestion extracts the carbon. We get hydrogen from sulfuric acid. Our food is rich in both that and sodium. Sodium compounds line our digestive tract, protecting it from the acid. We excrete water and sodium sulfide.”

“Thank you. I can see why you need to avoid oxygen. And your technology, learning our language and reading our thoughts… amazing.”

The alien raises one of its four limbs and makes a circle with it. “The Universe is composed of Life Energy, and all is One. That’s what the machine tunes into. Since all is One, you and I are One. Chief Nuclear Technologist Randolph Lobankov, yes, what you recall from quantum mechanics is correct. Consciousness is the only reality, so we can share consciousness.”

A second, larger yellow globe floats down through the clouds and lands beside the alien. It splits open and indeed the rotten egg smell of sodium sulfide fills the air. “Oh, apologies!” the alien says. “We didn’t know our normal aroma would be unpleasant for you or my colleagues would have evacuated the vehicle first. Here are your supplies, good for another ninety years. Not that you’ll need to float in a ship for all of that time.”

A clatter comes from behind. Turning, Birna sees engineering staff setting up big fans, and the stink rapidly eases.

Birna says, “It’s not fair that only we should have this amazing experience. Officers, please go below and organize for the rest of the 1527 people to come up in an orderly way to meet our alien benefactor.”

“See, benevolence is not limited to us. But Birna, you mentioned the Final War. ‘Final’ I understand, but ‘war’ is an unknown concept.”

Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if it was an unknown concept to us, too! “From what you have shared with us, I am convinced that you never deliberately kill each other. Am I correct?”

The alien’s horror fills Birna’s mind and is a sufficient answer.

She notes a new cohort of people replace the senior officers, and they all show signs of that beautiful loving feeling, but, remarkably, the alien continues its conversation with her at the same time. It says as if speaking within her head, “We never, ever knowingly do harm. No, we do not kill.”

“I am afraid it’s quite common among humans. ‘War’ is an organized way of doing so. But all the people on this ship are descendants of humans who were selected for empathy, kindness, generosity, and they raised us, generation after generation, to follow.”

“I understand from the minds of people I’ve talked with that ‘Europe’ is the continent you come from, that ‘union’ is joining, coming together, and ‘lifeboat’ is a smaller vessel you escape in if your ship is too badly damaged. But I don’t understand the combination of these three words.”

Birna considers how to answer this. “I don’t know your species’ social organization. Humans have lived in nations, also termed countries, which are a collection of people under one government.”

“I see. In that case, my entire species is one nation.”

“The European Union was a collection of nations that cooperated in many formal and informal ways. When the coming end of our world became obvious, they built this ship. It is humanity’s lifeboat, hence the name. Our computers carry all the information needed to regenerate Earth when the terrible effects of the Final War are over… if we can survive that long.”

“Now that we are here, we’ll make sure of that but may have an even better solution. We’re working on it.”

***

“Thank you,” I sent the thought to Kgzgdl’s image, wishing that, like those people in the future, I could meet the real person. “You have introduced me to the reality of two very admirable people.”

Kgzgdl replied, “I am afraid the next host of your awareness is not so admirable. He and his group are the reason we know there is no point in directly approaching the rulers of Earth in your time.”

Antarctica

Richard Garfield looks coldly at the deputation of three men, who have the temerity to stare back into his eyes. One of the fellows is colored. How dare these apes go against the rules? “You signed the contract. If it wasn’t for my great-grandfather, you’d never have been born. Get back to work.”

The center fellow, Jones, insolently raises his chin. “Yes, I signed the contract on my eighteenth birthday because I was too young to see the implications and was told there was no alternative. Now I know better.”

“So what? Break the contract and I’ll shove you in jail so long you’ll forget what fresh air smells like.”

“There are two parties to this dispute, Mr. Garfield. There’s you lot who think you’re kings or something, what, eighteen adults plus your 150 police, compared to the rest of us, nearly 2000 united.”

The fellow on his right, Gunther, adds, “Yes, your great-grandparents saved my family from becoming radioactive ash eighty years ago, but that doesn’t mean we’re your serfs forever.”

Jones says, “My wife, Maryam, used her pregnancy holiday to research political science. Based on her work, we’ve set out three ways of governing ourselves. One is what we have now: absolute rule by an aristocracy. We propose to hold a vote of all adults, and you’re welcome to cast yours. It’ll be worth exactly the same as mine. And if you don’t like the outcome, you’re free to go somewhere else.”

Richard nods to the four guards standing ready by the door. At the prearranged signal, Pinherio bounds forward and knocks Jones down with a punch to the jaw. He grabs the peasant by the back of his jacket and easily carries him with one hand, Jones’ head, arms and legs dangling. Meanwhile, the other guards handcuff the other two and force them to follow Pinherio.

Richard looks out the window of his penthouse, one of four on top of the only inhabited high-rise building in the world, and his family’s great achievement soothes his soul. Here, in the once-frozen waste, fields of grain and corn stretch to the horizon, with orchards and stands of tall trees. Children play under the Antarctic sun, and a great herd of cattle graze on lush green grass. All of this is due to the foresight and intelligence of four men.

Probably, no human is alive anywhere else on the planet. He needs to guide the new seed of survival instead of allowing it to be spoiled by the ignorant rabble, but how? He goes to consult with his wife.

***

Denise Garfield skims her script one more time, then clicks on her camera and microphone.

We are here today, the seed of New Humanity. Thanks to the foresight of our four founders, we have preserved the complete records of our civilization. We benefit from the technology they secretly transplanted, and so live comfortable lives while, as far as we know, everyone else on Earth has died. We have seed banks for the plants and cryonic storage for the fertilized ova of many thousands of species, so our descendants will be able to bring Earth back to its former glory.

Yes, the long-term plan has always been a return to democracy, as you all know, but not yet. We are still a frontier outpost on a planet, some of which is radioactive wasteland. The seas are too acidic to support much more than jellyfish, and much of the planet is too hot for life and is battered by great storms.

We are the emergency outpost of Planet Earth. You cannot run an emergency outpost by majority vote, far less by consensus.

When the time is right, when the planet is ready for reoccupation, we will need to be democratic and equalitarian. But during this transitory phase, we need to act within a firm command structure.”

That should keep the rabble in place, hopefully. Denise turns the equipment off and sips a little claret, satisfied with her performance.

But then, she isn’t yet aware of the response. In the Jones’ little apartment, Maryam Jones, Tracey Gunther, and Martha Freeman sit on the shabby old couch, leaning forward while they watch her on the screen. Maryam is holding her tiny daughter in her arms.

“Oh, I do hope the bastards haven’t murdered them,” Martha says, tears trickling down her face. “I told and told him not to go, but you all know how stubborn he is. He just lectured me about Gandhi and Martin Luther King putting themselves on the frontline.”

Maryam does her best to smile at her, but it is a miserable failure. “We can be proud of our guys. The leaders of the revolution! Now it’s our job to put it in motion.”

The emails go out.

***

The next morning, Richard and Denise Garfield and their children settle on their chairs at the breakfast table, but Molly isn’t waiting there. The table isn’t set, and when Richard checks, the coffee urn is empty and not switched on.

His phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket. Tom Meloni says, “Hey Richard, what’s going on? None of the servants are here.”

“I don’t know. As I told you yesterday, I jailed three insolent apes who challenged the status quo. Maybe it’s related to that.”

“I’m calling a meeting immediately.”

“I agree, Tom. But we haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“We haven’t either. I checked in the kitchen, and there is not a scrap of food!”

Richard says, “Leanne, you’re in charge of the others. Your mom, Toby and I need to deal with this situation.”

Within ten minutes, the rulers of New Humanity are together in the impressive boardroom. Richard is not amused when Nancy McClintock, sitting beside him, makes a stomach-gurgling sound. “Young lady,” he says, “one must contain oneself.”

“Sorry Uncle Richard. I couldn’t help it. It’s just that I haven’t had any breakfast.”

Indeed, hunger is a completely new experience for Richard, too. Whatever the cause is, someone will suffer for it!

Tom’s phone rings. He answers it, then puts it on speaker. A woman says, “This is to inform your lordships, oh sorry, majesties, that there is a general strike. No one is doing any work. We’re all staying at home until you release our three leaders and agree to negotiate with them on an equal basis.”

Tom opens his mouth to answer, but there is a click, then a beep… beep sound. The bitch has disconnected. Tom taps repeatedly at his phone, and at last says, “Anonymous number! I didn’t know that was possible.”

Jane McClintock, sitting on her daughter’s other side, says, “That means the technicians are in on it, too, not only the servants and peasants.”

Wizened by age but still the final decision-maker, Mary Riley orders, “Get Martineau.”

The Captain of Police must have anticipated being needed, for he walks in immediately upon Richard’s call on the phone.

Richard says, “We need to take firm action straight away. Captain, get teams of your men to force people back to work. Beat up a few who argue. Kill a few who physically resist—”

Young Nacy jumps up. “No! I won’t stand for that!”

Richard does his best to be patient. After all, she is only eighteen. “You need to remember history. The Second American Civil War started with peaceful demonstrations. Our people were in control at first, but every one of them, from the president down, were killed. And given you’re an attractive girl, you’ll almost certainly be raped first.” That should do it.

On the other side of the table, Toby also stands. “Father, that’s a very biased reading of history. Our people, as you call them, were doing a reverse Robin Hood, accumulating obscene wealth by making ordinary people starve and lose their homes and—”

Tom cuts him off before Richard can. “And that’s why you’re alive now. If our ancestors had used firm control at the very outset, the USA would have stayed the greatest world power, ever, and the Final War would never have happened. Anyway, we need a public execution of the ringleaders as a show of force. I call for a vote.”

Denise says, “It’s lovely that you have compassion, but the rabble is too stupid. They need us to lead our community to survival and growth.”

Captain Martineau’s phone rings. Mary says, “This is probably relevant. Answer it.”

Martineau does. His face pales, and he puts it on speaker, saying, “Repeat what you told me.”

“Jimmy, me and the kids have been abducted. We haven’t been harmed but were blindfolded and taken to one of the winter growhouses. I can see the solar lights under the roof, but of course there are dozens of these places. Looks to me like every copper’s family is here. A man is telling me what to say. We won’t be harmed, he says, but only if you guys don’t harm anyone. And the water has been turned off for the top ten stories of the main building, you know, above the mainframe computer, and electricity is on the way. That’s slower for some technical reason. The ruler families will have no food, water or power until their three leaders are released and honest negotiations are set up.”

Hugh Drysdale, the oldest youngster at twenty-four, says, “Aunt Denise, that supposed ignorant rabble are outplaying us at chess. They are anticipating our moves and have it all planned.”

Tom repeats, “I’ve called for a vote. If we don’t respond with firmness, we’re done.”

Richard is pleased at the outcome: only five are for negotiation. Thirteen are for Tom Meloni’s proposal of stopping the rebellion in its tracks.

Martineau says, though, “Ladies and gentlemen, I resign my position. No way will I risk my family.” He turns for the door when the weirdest godawful sound drowns everything. It blasts in through the windows and also plays on ex-Captain Martineau’s phone.

Richard covers his ears with his hands, and everyone copies him, but it’s no use.

The lights blink, then go off. That’s of course the promised sabotage, but how have these rebels managed to attack with this terrible din? Richard looks out the window at the deserted square way below, but lights above attract his attention. A huge yellow sphere is rapidly lowering, with flashes of light in every imaginable color and then a few more shining from it.

Thankfully, the noise ceases as the lights on the sphere fade to nothing. The thing stops with its bottom level with the window. Physically, the cessation of the blast of weird sound leaves a blessed vacuum, but a silver glow of Love enfolds Richard. He feels like a child in mother’s arms, a chick rescued after falling from a nest, cherished and held close. He turns to look back into the room and sees that every person there stands with mouth half open, in a trance. This is an attack. “I WON’T BE HYPNOTIZED!” he roars and walks around the table to the back of the room.

The wonderful feeling stops, but the others are still entranced. Richard shakes Tom’s shoulder and wakes him. Looking angry, Mary joins the two of them. Richard grabs Toby’s shoulder, too, but the boy is unresponsive. He rushes back to his seat and grabs Denise’s arm, but she also ignores him. What to do? “Martineau!” he shouts into the man’s ear.

The ex-Captain shakes his head, then regains alertness. “Sir?”

“Do we have any weapons handy that’ll shoot that thing down?”

“Um… not really, sir, only the weapons in the museum from the three World Wars.”

“Send men to activate suitable ones. We’ll need to slow down this attack in the meantime.”

“Sir, what I felt was love and caring, not hostility.”

Idiot. “Don’t you see how powerful a weapon that is? Hypnotize your enemy to stop resistance, then BOOM. This is an invasion from aliens for sure. Maybe they’re in cahoots with the rebels, maybe not, but we must resist them either way.”

Mary nods at him approvingly as ex-Captain Martineau again activates his phone to issue orders.

What to do? Richard frantically tries to bring one person after another back to consciousness. Some ignore him, others shrug him off. At last, Giles Abbott grabs his hand to stop it shaking his shoulder and says, “Richard, buddy, you’re wrong. They are no threat to us.”

“Obviously, they’ve fooled you. Anyone can tell lies.”

All the others have come back to normality, except they all look mellow, relaxed, smiling.

“Their captain is sort of talking with me, in my mind. So, for the moment I am the interpreter. He… or I suppose she, is saying—”

“Told you! Mind control!”

“Will you just shut up and listen? Four of you chose to refuse the connector machine, he says, so the only way he can communicate with you is by sending a microphone and speaker and is asking your permission to do so.” Giles is looking at Mary more than at anyone else while saying this.

Her response is, “What if it’s an explosive device? In chess, you win by anticipating all possible attacks.”

“OK, let’s do a cost-benefit analysis. What could they possibly gain by getting rid of us?”

Tom says, “They arrived in the middle of us dealing with the rebellion.”

Giles looks like he is talking with someone without sound. “He says, they don’t know what the word ‘rebellion’ means, and if it is a serious problem, they are happy to help us to deal with it.”

“Don’t tell me you believe him!” Richard scoffs.

Denise interrupts the argument. “I’ve told the alien to send the device.”

What? My wife is a traitor?

The huge globe outside the window extrudes a small yellow object, which floats horizontally across the three hundred yards or so, then attaches itself to the window with a suction cap. A voice comes from it. “Greetings. I am Kgzgdl, captain of this spaceship. Thank you, Giles, for explaining the problem. Mary, Tom, Richard, Martineau, he has given me your names. We cannot live on your planet because oxygen is highly toxic to us. Our reason for being here is that the planet we come from—”

Rapid gunfire interrupts the alien. The gigantic spaceship zooms up and is out of sight within a couple of seconds. The only reminder that it wasn’t a bizarre dream is the little yellow box attached to the outside of the window.

Richard takes the couple of steps to allow him to look down. On the ground is one of the ancient anti-aircraft guns, with four barrels pointing up at nothing.

***

Kgzgdl clicked me back to 2025. “So, dear Bob,” crft said, “that’s how we learned about the ways of thinking of the people who caused your disaster.”

Bloody idiots! I thought in automatic response, but of course heard internally, “Oh, I get it from your mind that blood is the liquid circulating within your body. But what is its relevance to their idiocy?”

“Sorry, that was a thought to myself, not communication. We have near-meaningless phrases that express emotion. In my country, Australia, ‘bloody’ is one of them. Once more, I apologize for my species.”

“Bob my sibling, listen. You, Birna Holgersdottir, Ramesh, and Jack Jones and his many friends are also of your species. And there are more of your kind than of them.”

“Wait. The dictators down in the Antarctic attacked you and you withdrew. So how could you enable me to experience Richard and Denise Garfield’s thoughts and speech, and the actions of the resistance?”

“When you go through space at half the speed of light, even the smallest atom fragment has great punching power. So, we designed our spaceship to be self-healing. The holes shot in it were fixed before a significant amount of oxygen could get in. But… three of my colleagues were wounded.”

I wanted to throw this Richard and Tom and Mary in a jail and throw away the key.

“No, Bob, two wrongs add up rather than cancel. Brml, Ktgdd, and Mxdrt are in the healing machine and doing well. They don’t feel bitter. Rather, their motivation is to get these strange people to change their approach to life. So, we went back, but more cautiously. I’ll show you immediately after.”

Antarctica, again

Toby Garfield wishes he had the courage to shout at Mary Riley, when she coldly says, “Good. That’s one nuisance we’ve gotten rid of. Now we’re back to dealing with these animals.”

He takes a deep breath and speaks as calmly as he can. “Grandmother, apart from your personal servants, how many have you met lately?”

She sniffs. “I avoid breathing the same air as them.”

“As you know, I am Father’s apprentice in supervising the technical staff. I’m in their company practically every day and direct projects with them. I find them intelligent, decent, with a great sense of humor. They are not animals.”

Mother says, “Cream rises to the top. We need to be the leaders because of our superiority. If they were all that intelligent, they would not be in subsidiary roles.”

Standing beside Toby, Nicky says, “Right, Aunt Denise, isn’t that why we have nothing to eat and can’t even flush a toilet?”

A yellow beam of light comes from above. Toby goes to the nearest window to see the source as a yellow ping-pong ball. That’ll be the spaceship, but way up high. He looks down. The light enfolds the antiaircraft gun for a few seconds, then stops.

Martineau’s phone rings. He answers, putting it on speaker. A man says, “Sir, the gun is frozen solid. It’s become a statue, like. Funny thing is, that beam of light didn’t do us any harm, just inactivated the gun.”

The alien’s voice comes through the speaker still stuck to the window. “Hi there, we are back although out of range of the connection machine. Our communication with all of you is through this radio device. Mary, I understand that you are the leader of this settlement. Can you please explain why you tried to damage us?”

Mary glares at the yellow object on the window. “You attacked us, right in the middle of an emergency, and attack is the best form of defense. Besides, you have no right on our planet. Go back to wherever you came from!”

There is a brief silence, then, “I’ve never met this attitude before. It is completely foreign to my species, and the opposite of how other humans have reacted to us. In fact, while I get the general feel of what you said, I don’t have a meaning for some of your words.”

Excited, Nancy breaks in. “You’ve found other humans?”

“Yes. There is a small group in Nepal, and a ship with a little more than1500 people in the Arctic Sea.”

Uncle Tom says, “Forewarned is forearmed. We’ll need to prepare for meeting with them in a few generations.”

“Tom, shut up,” Mary says. “We don’t want this invader to know of our plans.”

“We are not invaders. Before you tried to hurt us, I was just explaining that your atmosphere is fatally toxic to us. We are here for two reasons. First, we’re asking your permission to settle on Venus because our home planet will soon become a frozen waste. Second, we are offering help in humanity’s terrible situation.”

Father sneers at the device stuck to the window. “We’re doing fine, thank you. We have everything we need for survival and comfort here for as long as it’s necessary, and the means to recolonize Earth once that is possible. We don’t care about Venus, settle there and burn to cinders, but just go away and leave us alone.”

“We have devised a way of reversing your global catastrophe as if it had never happened.”

“How?” Father asks.

“We have the technology to change your past. We can stop your Final War.”

“I’m all for that,” Uncle Tom says, “and I know exactly what’s needed. The Final War happened because our home country, the United States of America, destroyed itself in the Second American Civil War, and we could have stopped that by immediately acting with firmness.”

The alien stays silent for some seconds, then, “Since we’re not using the connection machine, I am unable to determine the meaning of some of your words. We can make things more efficient with it, so may I lower it to you? Then I have a better chance of understanding you, and you’ll be able to sense my emotions.”

Uncle Giles enthusiastically says, “Mary, trust me, it’s OK.”

Grandmother reluctantly nods, and Uncle Giles says, “Do send it.”

Maybe half a minute passes, then at last a little yellow object appears, floating down from above. No one says anything during this time. It attaches itself next to the radio one, and the alien says, “Mary, Richard, Tom, Martineau, may I activate the connection machine for you?”

“We agreed, didn’t we?” Grandmother says, but in a voice like a lemon.

And the four of them seem to be in heaven.

Remarkably, Toby hears the alien’s voice say within his mind, “Can somebody please explain to me what ‘rebellion’ means?”

Mother says, “Our great-grandparents secretly set up this place over ninety-five years ago, as the world was plummeting toward the Final War, and occupied it eighty-five years ago, five years before the end. We’ve had a steady, effective way of running ourselves, with each person in a necessary role, and everything has worked well. But now, a bunch of poorly educated, inferior people want to take over, and—”

The alien’s inner voice interrupts her. “This has brought your recent speech to the surface of your consciousness, and the communication machine has recorded it. Thank you. From your memories, I also have a sense of what a ‘general strike’ means, and the vote you took among yourselves. Can one of the five for negotiation please explain your view? You don’t have to speak aloud.”

Toby hears Nancy’s voice, although her lips don’t move. “If I were one of them, I’d also be dissatisfied with the way things are. It’s just not fair! We live in luxury while the others work long hours, and the system is designed to give them hard lives. Before my eighteenth birthday while waiting to qualify for being on this council, I was planning to introduce changes and reduce inequality.”

Toby sends the thought, “I am sure Uncle Tom is wrong. His claim that getting rid of the leaders of public outrage would have stopped the Civil War is nonsense. It would have caused the explosion of violence earlier rather than later. If we execute these three—”

A feeling of horror fills Toby’s mind, although it is not his horror. “I sense that you mean, kill them?”

“Er, yes. It would be a bad move.”

The horror continues, mixed with disbelief, and revulsion like having some stinking animal lick your face. “Under no circumstances would we do that, even if it was a good move. We have the means of preventing you killing them without doing you any harm and will do so.”

Uncle Giles says internally, “You have no right to interfere in our affairs.”

“Toby, why would it be a bad move?” Mary demands.

Toby looks back to see the four of them alert again. In way of an answer, he in turn asks, “Captain Martineau, in your opinion, how many of the police are willing to risk their families?”

“Hmm… Mr. Toby, nineteen of them are unmarried. They might. But six of these are adult sons of police, and they certainly would not risk their mothers.”

“Grandmother, there is your answer. We have been checkmated, keeping with the chess analogy. We can starve here, although I believe lack of water causes death faster. If we go out of here, we’re exposed to attack and have no protection. Murder their leaders, and they’ll storm in here and perfectly justly do the same to us.”

The alien internally says, “We will not allow anyone to murder anyone, and we will stay here until the situation is resolved, and we can be sure that everyone is safe.”

“Why? What is it to you?” Mary demands aloud.

“It is our duty. Our First Rule is, ‘Everyone is precious.’ And we also prevent the suffering of other life and protect even inanimate objects from damage. The Supreme Being handed down this injunction to us, and we live by it.”

Uncle Tom sneers, “Supreme Being? God? That’s superstitious nonsense.”

There is a brief silence, then, “I think I understand your terms. You’re welcome to believe whatever you like, but our behavior is guided by our beliefs. Anyway, this is the situation, and you can do nothing about it. The wise thing is to accept it and cooperate.”

Toby says, “I call for a vote. We should cooperate. I reckon I’ve proven it’s the only possible action.”

Apart from Captain Martineau, who hasn’t got a vote, every person’s right hand rises, although most of them reluctantly.

“Thank you, Toby. Please bring the three leaders of your opposition here, politely and without hurting them.”

***

The agony in Jack Jones’ jaw has reduced to mere pain, and is no longer throbbing, but he still finds it difficult to speak. At least they are still alive. He is lying on his back on the mattress that must be filled with bricks while Mark Gunther trickles another tiny mouthful of watery soup into his mouth.

Jerome Freeman says, “Think of this: the bastards don’t even have piss-weak soup. It’s all in hand, buddies.”

They all look at the door at the sound of a key, and Captain Martineau himself comes in, followed by three cops. “The council has decided to meet with you,” he says.

Mark grins at him. “Didn’t take them that long, did it?”

“Did you hear that terrible noise down here this morning?”

“Yes. We thought you were using it as a new form of torture.”

“No. It’s unbelievable: we’re having a visit from an alien spaceship. It was their noise.”

Jerome helps Jack to sit up, then to stand. “Pull the other leg, Captain,” he says.

“You’ll see. The captain of the spaceship is talking with the council, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Captain, in what language for heaven’s sake?”

“They have amazing technology. You’ll see. Come along now.”

Without any restraints being put on, they are escorted to one of the elevators that terminate at the thirtieth story. The seven of them get out, then it’s ten levels of stairs. Jerome and one side, Mark on the other need to support Jack. After a while, they practically carry him. When they tire, at a word from Captain Martineau, a couple of the policemen take over and are equally as gentle. That’s a surprise! Jack’s comrades take over again well before they reach the top, but at last they enter the boardroom.

All the aristocrats are sitting around the table, eating a gratifyingly late breakfast—it’s more like late lunch. Jack would grin at the urgency of their swigs of water, the way they stuff their mouths, if he could bend his lips into the right curve. Jerome and Mark ease him into a chair as Miss Nicky demands, “What happened to this man?”

Mr. Garfield dismissively says, “That kind of thing happens during an arrest.”

Jerome’s black eyes flash fire. “Sir, if there was proper law here, Officer Pinherio would be charged with assault, and you with aiding and abetting a crime.”

A strange voice says, “Mary, can you please explain what ‘insolent nigger’ means?” It is coming from one of two yellow objects sticking to the outside of one of the windows.

“How dare you broadcast my private thoughts?” Mrs. Riley shouts, though it sounds more like a squawk, Jack thinks with an inner laugh.

But it is Mark who answers. “Mrs. Riley, my friend, Jerome Freeman, just has to be the most intelligent person of New Humanity. He has beaten the computer at chess, go, bridge, and poker. He is the architect of our campaign.” He waves at the chewing faces at the table. “He has defeated you, hasn’t he? And his hobby for years has been to study the legal structure of many countries… when there were countries. When we have a democracy, he’ll be an ideal Chief Judge.”

Jack would cheer if he could.

The yellow box speaks again. “My friend, I have it from Jim’s thoughts… Oh, Captain Martineau’s thoughts, that you are Mark Gunther, and the third newcomer is Jack Jones. I am Kgzgdl, captain of the spaceship above you. Some of the others in this room initially objected to being exposed to the connector machine. Is it OK with you if we get more closely acquainted?”

Young Mr. Toby says, “It’s wonderful. Agree to it.”

All three of them nod, and Jack is submerged in a sea of Love. Even the pain in his jaw and the headache from his concussion cease as if switched off. He can’t help imagining this alien as an angel with huge white wings, carrying him aloft, above all suffering, above all strife, into a place of serenity and joy. But at last, the feeling stops, and unfortunately his damaged jaw starts hurting again, and the dull ache behind his eyes returns.

The alien’s voice now sounds as if inside his head. “Jack, just think of what you want to say, and I’ll reproduce your voice with my radio device.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jack sends, and hears it, indeed in his voice, from the yellow object.

The alien laughs. “We don’t have sexes like you. Any four of us can combine to each fertilize the other three, then all four of us lay an egg that’s related to all four co-parents. And if you can’t say my name, just call me your friend.”

Mark says, aloud, “Ladies and gentlemen of the council, we are happy for you to finish your meal, and perhaps have a shower, before starting negotiations.”

“There is nothing to negotiate,” Mr. Meloni says with a sneer.

The alien answers him. “You agreed.”

I agreed to admit them here. As far as I’m concerned, they are still under arrest for breaking the contract. Captain Martineau, return them to jail.”

“We have a plan in place for this contingency,” Jerome answers. “Do it and see what will happen.”

Doubt flashes across Mr. Meloni’s face. “What?”

Jerome grins at him, looking straight into his eyes—deliberate insolence. “You have only one way of finding out.”

Mrs. Riley puts her fork down into her empty plate, then takes a last sip from her cup. “We might as well get it over and done. Say what you want to say.”

This is Jack’s task. He has endlessly rehearsed it over several weeks, so is not surprised to hear his voice come from the speaker on the window. After all, the alien had retrieved Mrs. Garfield’s speech from her memory.

One month from today, we want to invite all people over sixteen years of age to vote in a referendum, to choose between three ways of governing New Humanity.

One is what we have now: an aristocracy in complete charge with the stated purpose of advancing the common good.

The second is a modified United States model. Laws are set and supervised by a council of elected representatives, and implemented by an elected president, who chooses officials to head various departments. The appointments need the council’s approval.

And finally, the third is a modified British model. There may be a titular ruler with a ceremonial rather than decision-making role, although, obviously, this person will have major influence. There is an elected council, who appoint one of their number as Prime Minister, who in turn appoints ministers.

We are happy to have a slightly unbalanced system for both elected versions. There should be one representative for each 100 adults, and one representative for the four families. So, in effect our current rulers will have five times the power of the rest of us. If and when our numbers increase, the proportions can be changed by parliament.

If we go for the British model, we nominate Mrs. Mary Riley to be the Head of State, as yet another concession.

If two thirds of those casting a vote agree on one of these three options, it will be adopted and elaborated in further steps. If not, the current system will continue for six months of further discussions.

Slowly, reluctantly, Mrs. Garfield says, “I see I have underestimated you people. All right, Mark Gunther, why are you the third leader of your movement?”

“Ma’am, my passion is psychology, both understanding the science of human behavior, and applying it to relieve suffering. I help with problems like depression, anxiety, grief, and interpersonal conflict. By implementing my reading of ancient books, I have learned to lead people to feel good even in the worst circumstances. People come to me when they need to, and I supervise several young women and men whom I have trained as therapists.”

Jack sends to the speaker, “And we do all this in the very few hours work leaves us. New Humanity has the technology to automate much of what we are required to do, but you ladies and gentlemen and your predecessors chose to rely on basically slave labor instead.”

“Oh, I reject that!” Mr. Abbott says. “They wanted to ensure there would be no boredom and meaninglessness, as during the 21st Century when machines replaced so many people.”

Mark answers, “I can guarantee that we can design a society full of meaning and purpose, without unnecessary work that machines can do. Anyway, the three of us want to go home, and leave the council to discuss our proposal.”

Captain Martineau looks at Mrs. Riley, who nods.

“Excellent!” the alien says. So, Jerome, is it safe for us to go?”

“Thank you for your intervention, my friend. Oh yes, we’ve planned ahead for every eventuality. When we approached Mr. Garfield, we even prepared a way for the rest of us to react appropriately if they killed us. My friend, Mark, has researched a movement termed ‘nonviolent resistance,’ and this is what we are doing.” Jerome smiles at the yellow speaker on the window, then around the room.

Jack says internally, and hears the speaker repeat, “My friend, could you please get acquainted with our wives, too? They are equal leaders of the resistance with us.”

***

That internal click, then “And there you have it, Bob,” my wonderful yellow sibling said. “We did another circuit of Earth but didn’t find anyone else. We said goodbye to Ramesh and his village, and Birna and her ship, then returned to Venus so I could send this image back. As I said, that uses up about half of Venus’ excess heat. As soon as I have permission from your time, I’ll send another image to our home planet and that’ll complete the cooling.”

I had a thought. “Listen, you do not need permission from my time for what will happen in 264 years. Send your image home and get your people to safety. That’s your first and overarching duty. And thank you for coming. When you settle on Venus, you can be our teachers.”

“Of course we do need your permission.”

I wasn’t a champion debater in my youth for nothing. “The people of my time don’t have either the power or the right to make decisions for people who won’t be born for generations. Back home on your planet, did your ancestors get a say on how to respond to that rogue planet that would crash into your solar system long after they were dead? And your task is urgent. Not only do you need to move your species, but enough of all the members of your global ecosystem so you can reproduce it on Venus. That’s a huge task!”

“It’s gone on for much of my adult life. My spaceship is one of five that left at the same time, but there were already hundreds of others waiting in orbit. We’ll time the arrival of my image to be one interval after our departure, so the other four spaceships can be called back.”

“Is that why yours is so big for only sixteen crew members?”

“You’re not wrong. It is already full of hibernating passengers who will wake when their work is needed, and many of the species we will need on Venus.”

“Oh, I wish I could be around when you’re our neighbors!”

“Sorry, Bob, but nothing can get around the laws of physics.”

“Let’s return to this permission business. Have I convinced you that you don’t need it from my time?”

I sensed crft’s inner grin. “No. Debate away.”

“First, what makes you think that our story will become a bestseller? If I say so myself, all my published books are excellent. I rarely get less than a five-star review—but also I rarely get a sale. My world is flooded with books, and I am one molecule of water in the ocean of publications. You should have chosen an already famous author. I can think of several who share our values.”

“Sorry Bob. All of them came up behind you on one or more of our criteria.”

I felt a warm glow of ego. But tickling just that is a standard debating trick. Hmm… “Precisely because I am an oddball and different, I don’t think the same as the gatekeepers to publishing success.”

“If you can’t find a publisher, you can self-publish. Our research has shown that to be highly popular in your time.”

“Next step. Suppose it becomes a bestseller and a movie. It will appeal to people who already agree with it, but not the current versions of Mary Riley who are wrecking humanity’s future. You chose not to go directly to them because of this, right?”

“Oh, I’m enjoying this. Right. But if enough people change their path, the current leaders become loners.”

I had to sigh. “In the 1970s when I was young, we rebels thought we’d move the world, but money outvoted passion. And it still does. We do have massive peaceful protests, do all we can, but you’ve shown me that we are losing anyway. As things are, the Tom Melonis of my time have already resorted to violence. Sorry, I can’t see our story heading off the Second American Civil War, and the Final War. So, just go and get your people, and settle on Venus. Please.”

“Remember what Jerome said? There is only one way to find out if we can generate a bestseller and through that change your future. Do it. Please.”

How could I argue with that? Here it is.