Dodds stands. At just over six feet and a solid 220 pounds, he looks more a wrestler than scientist, “What the public needs to understand is that we’re dealing with an intelligent species far superior to our own that has succeeded in making first contact. Whatever they are, wherever they are, they’re too far away to be dropping by for a visit. By building this radio telescope, we enable ourselves to communicate with another species. Eventually, we may be able to learn from them, share our technologies, and gain a better understanding of the universe, and maybe even our own origins. This discovery could unite mankind—this project could be the catalyst that leads humanity away from nuclear annihilation.”

Dodds looks Chaney square in the eye. “Senator, E.T. has called, and it’s vitally important to the future of humanity that we call him back.”

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

SEPTEMBER 26, 2012
MIAMI, FLORIDA

There are five residents gathered in the pod known as 7-C. Two are seated on the floor playing what they think is chess, another is asleep on the sofa. A fourth stands by the door, waiting for a member of his rehab team to arrive to escort him to his morning therapy session.

The remaining resident of 7-C stands motionless before a television set suspended above his head. He listens to President Mailer extol the tremendous work of the men and women of NASA and SETI. He hears the president speak excitedly about world peace and cooperation, about the international space program and its impact on the future of humanity. The dawn of a new age is upon us, he announces. We are no longer alone.

Unlike the billions of other viewers watching the live news conference from around the world, Michael Gabriel is not surprised by what he is hearing, only saddened. The ebony eyes never blink, the body, held rigid, never moves. The blank expression never changes, even when Pierre Borgia’s face appears on screen over the president’s left shoulder. It is hard to tell if Mick is even breathing.

Dominique enters the pod. She pauses, taking a moment to observe her patient watching the special news broadcast while she verifies that the tape recorder fastened beneath her tee shirt is obscured by the white lab coat.

She moves beside him, the two now shoulder to shoulder in front of the television, her right hand by his left.

Their fingers entwine.

“Mick, do you want to watch the rest of this, or can we talk?”

“My room.” He leads her across the hall, entering room 714.

Mick paces the cell like a caged animal, his cluttered mind attempting to sort through a thousand details at once.

Dominique sits on the edge of the bed, watching him. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you? How? How did you know? Mick—”

“I didn’t know what was going to happen, only that something would happen.”