Now, unable to use his phone or tablet or so much as a carrier pigeon to communicate a single sentence to the outside world, that was all he wanted to do. Talk to his parents. About nothing in particular and everything in general, about little meaningless inconsequentialities, about the weather and the price of bread and …

Reed was staring at him. Chewing and staring. Dev liked Reed, as much as Reed would allow himself to be liked. That did not change the fact that he knew if he violated communications silence in any way, shape, or form, Reed would crush whatever device Dev was attempting to use to contact the outside world, and possibly also Dev himself.

Think about other things, he told himself as he absently spread raspberry preserves on a piece of toast. Think about what you’re going to do with your time when this is over. Visit your parents, certainly. Take a week off, spend some quality time with them, go to the beach, build a sandcastle. Break your personal dietary regimen and indulge in a hamburger, as big and sloppy and greasy as possible. Plan a trip to the old country, scout office locations in Bengaluru. Try as he might, he found he couldn’t think very long about any of those things. Imminent destruction by way of an alien invasion has a way of blocking out anything akin to a casual thought.

Like everyone else, he had been caught off-guard by the aliens’ ability to converse in English. That was an area of contact where he had expected Jakob Zimmer to take the lead and the two biologists, Pavesi and Katou-Zimmer, to follow. Reed would look on and watch for trouble while he, Dev, assessed the overall situation in expectation of being asked for opinion and analysis. By addressing the contact team in English, and colloquial, brusque English at that, the alien called Vantolos had scrambled everyone’s preconceived notions of how such contact might proceed. Now they and every other human on the planet were faced not with complex issues of understanding but with demands. Demands that had been delivered in a cold, unambiguous terrestrial language. What they consisted of no one yet knew.

He glanced up at the wall clock, whose hours were backed by images of different NASA spacecraft. How primitive the most advanced space-traversing efforts of humankind seemed now. Less than an infant fumbling with blocks.

Rising from his chair, Reed removed his headphones and returned to the real world. “Time, everyone. Finish up. Half an hour for bathroom time.” One corner of his mouth curled slightly upwards. “Time for prayer and final thoughts, if that’s your inclination. Like yesterday, we’ll assemble in the reception area.”