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  He finished up and returned to his room, towel over his shoulder, and hung his towel up behind the door. Tee wasn’t home from work yet, so he stretched out on the bed and relaxed. He felt his wristphone vibrate, already anticipating who was calling. He pressed and held the side button.

  “Hey babe…I missed you…”

  WED, MAY 24th, 2034

  Washington, DC, USA

  11:00 am

  T he President sat at her Oval Office desk alone, rubbing her temples. It was a gloomy day outside, reflecting her mood. She was nearing her cycle, which was rattling her hormones more than she’d prefer. She felt testy, moody, and emotional, all of which were not appropriate for the leader of the free world, and so she never let it affect any aspect of her duty.

  She picked up her PDA from her desk and sent a page to her CIA Director, who was on a flight home from his meeting with Chinese, Russian, and British intelligence officials a week before the President’s plans to attend the International Summit in Switzerland. It was the perfect opportunity, under the guise of operational procedure they could meet without press. After the meeting, he would catch a red-eye flight back to Langley.

  Her wristphone vibrated as she looked down and saw a new message. She pressed the side button to open it. It was a simple text message: Call me. Secure.

  Tapping on her PDA, she encrypted the call before she placed it. She was more stressed than usual, wondering if there had been an agreement reached between the nations. She had her stance, and of course they would have theirs.

  “Hey, are we secure?” he said as he picked up the line.

  “Of course,” she said, a little annoyed that he would ask her a redundant question.

  “China doesn’t have any information, and neither does Russia.”

  “Did you brief them?” asked the President.

  “Yes.”

  “And…?”

  “I explained the situation to them. They had some doubts about the validity since I wouldn’t share the source, but they were able to confirm the authenticity. We did, however, agree to an In-LaWS cease fire until we can figure out what’s going on.”

  “Good,” she replied, “the last thing we need to be seen doing is blowing our own people out of the sky. Any indication as to when they might notify their people?”

  “Not yet. I’m sure it’ll happen within the next twenty-four hours. The clock is ticking.”

  “I think we should be the first,” she responded, contemplating the thought in her mind, “Show them that we will not be defined by our prior mistakes. We need to bring these people home. If it’s like you said and they made it, they’re worth much more to us alive…”

  THURS, MAY 25th, 2034

  Langley, VA, USA

  2:17 pm

  A rriving to his office at Langley the next day, Director Horn closed the door, sat down his briefcase and suit jacket, and approached his comfortable desk chair. He sat down and took a deep breath, staring at the collection of sticky notes and paperwork lining his desk since he’d left. Back to work. He had two anti-terrorism briefings and a plan of action meeting that would fill up the rest of his afternoon, but for the moment, he had time to take care of some personal matters.

  Reaching in his desk and pulling out his favorite cigar, he lit it with the zippo lighter on his desk, throwing the lighter back on the messy stack of paperwork. He pulled his PDA from his pocket and used the adapter cord on his desk to plug into his VoIP phone port. Tapping away at his PDA device, he placed the encrypted call and picked up the handheld receiver on the VoIP telephone.

  “Hello,” said NASA’s Administrator, picking up the call immediately.

  “Hello Mr. Dunn,” said the Director, “do you have a moment to speak?”

  “Yeah, I have a moment!” he began, “And I hope you have a few moments because I have plenty to say to you!”

  The CIA Director remained silent, taking another drag of his cigar.

  “You railroaded me, you prick! And then you have the nerve to call me after? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Listen Gary,” interrupted the Director as he exhaled the smoke, calling him by his first name in an obvious display of subtle impudence, yet maintaining his composure, “I give you six months before you’re forced out of this job. Those are just facts. Now, the question is, do you wanna sit home bitter, cursing me, or do you want another job? Something where you can really make a difference…”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he inquired, still agitated.

  “Gary,” he continued with a strange endearment, “these things that you’ve discovered. They’re of a more…classified nature.”

  “What are you saying?” asked the Administrator.

  “What I’m saying is that you’re the one who figured out what these things were. With time and more resources, we could figure out their entry points, their landing zones, and so much more. Gary, I’m asking you to help me. To help humankind. To save lives…”

  --- 7:22 pm ---

  Alexandria, VA, USA

  Michael could hear commotion downstairs in the living room. The group home was known to be noisy, but it was different. He emerged from his room and peeked down the stairs.

  All the boys were crowded around the TV, with Ms. Tanya on the couch in front of it. Tee was still holding his work bag, he had just come through the door.

  “What’s going on?” Michael asked from the top of the stairs.

  “Look,” Ms. Tanya replied, pointing to the TV, “the President is about to make a statement about those objects that NASA was talking about…”

  Michael descended the stairs and looked at the TV. The news anchor was mediating a debate. Two scientists on the newscast, an astronomer and an astrologist, were jabbing back and forth with catty insults and polarizing disagreements about the origin of the foreign objects. On the bottom of the screen, the title was bold: PRESIDENT TO ADDRESS THE NATION REGARDING FOREIGN OBJECTS.

  “Why do you always watch that stuff Ms. Tanya?” Manny shouted from the kitchen as he grabbed a snack, “I don’t watch the news. All it ever says is that you’re gonna get stabbed in the park or you’re gonna die from eating chicken. It’s fake. They just wanna scare people.”

  “Nah, it’s deeper than that,” shouted Tee into the kitchen, “the government is always lying to us. See, somebody groovy like me, I can pick right up on that. They think we’re sheep, but we’re not. And that’s why these hacker groups are exposing them. It’s beautiful!”

  “So, you believe in like, conspiracies and stuff huh?” asked Manny, walking back into the living room.

  “Of course!” replied Tee, “do you remember back in 2030 when there was that huge race riot in New York City? And then the hacker group Omni-Presents found files saying that the government killed those people and blamed it on Korean immigrants? Thirteen Korean Americans were killed in protests over that. Remember?”

  “Yeah, but I dunno,” he rebutted, “I don’t think the government would do something like that.”

  “Government nowadays is theatre,” Tee said boldly.

  “Hush you two!” yelled Ms. Tanya, silencing the room, “the President is about to speak!”

  --- 7:30 pm ---

  The news anchor wrapped up the segment from the two opposing scientists, shaking their hands and dismissing them. He turned toward the camera and began to speak on the day’s juiciest topic.

  “People are anxious today as we have learned that the President will be addressing the nation in just a few moments regarding what seem to be unusual objects just a few thousand miles outside of our atmosphere. Some reports coming in from observatories around the world are stating that these might resemble some sort of vehicle or spacecraft. At this time, we are unsure, but our sources confirm, it is not an asteroid.”

  The whole room was silent with anticipation.

  “We now go live to the President, who is now going to make a statement regarding the unidentified objects.”

  The new
s program cut to the podium in the James S. Brady Press Briefing Room; the presidential seal large and bold on the front. It was unusual that statements didn’t come directly from the White House Press Secretary, and so curiosity gripped them. The living room was eerily quiet, their eyes glued to the television.

  When the President walked in, all eyes were on her. She wore a women’s suit, with black pants a red jacket and a white blouse, swinging her arms gently as she ascended to the elevated platform. Her hair was permed and pressed, not one strand out of place, a look that screamed authority, but also intelligence. Her chin was held high, her chest slightly poked out, her fingers interlocked and placed on the podium. She looked across the tops of the heads of the crowd, and began to read from the teleprompter.

  “My fellow Americans,” she said, pausing for a brief moment, “We have confirmed with NASA…only moments ago…that the objects we once thought were simply asteroids, appear to be similar in shape to the C-71 Disk Shaped Spacecraft. These are human spacecrafts.”

  The looks on the faces of the crowd of boys gathered in the living room were generally perplexed, yet mostly relieved. They were human spacecraft, and so the silly scare was over and the rational explanation was forthcoming.

  “Told you!” shouted Manny to Tee.

  “Told me what?” he asked, “That just proved that the government lies. First, they’re asteroids, now they’re our spacecraft? What were they doing out there anyway?”

  “Hush!” yelled Ms. Tanya.

  “Almost forty years ago,” continued the President, “we launched a space expedition, cooperating with several other allied nations, to launch three spacecrafts; the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa María. The expedition was meant to research other areas of space not yet explored. When we lost communications with the craft a year later, we determined that we had lost the three spacecrafts. It appears we were mistaken.”

  “Mrs. President!” shouted the press, roaring with their questions and comments. It was like a media bomb had just exploded. Cameras flashed. Alerts went off on Tee and Ms. Tanya’s wristphones, banners streamed across the bottom of the screen. Articles were already being created. The President took her first question.

  “Yes, you there in the white,” she said, pointing.

  “Thank you, Mrs. President,” she began, standing and adjusting her white blouse as she flipped her blonde hair, “Have you tried to communicate with them?”

  “Yes, we have,” she began, “and so far, communications have been unsuccessful. If we can establish contact with our people, we can bring them in safely, which is our first priority.”

  The crowd again began to fight like savages for their voices to be heard.

  “Yes, red tie,” she said, pointing him out.

  “Thank you, Mrs. President. Do they appear to be in any immediate danger?”

  “As of right now, no. Close visuals confirm there is no structural damage to the crafts.”

  More commotion as the reporters began to uproar.

  “Right there, black jacket,” she said, pointing.

  “Thank you, Mrs. President,” she began, “when do you anticipate that these people will arrive?”

  “Well, as we have just learned, they should be entering our atmosphere within the next week. Their landing zones currently consist of three locations; Central Colombia, The Democratic Republic of the Congo, and South China. We have already begun alerting the proper recovery personnel, and we are making plans to retrieve them safely. This expedition was a joint effort, and their recovery will be a joint effort as well. Again, our utmost priority here is the safety of our people. Thank you, and God Bless America.”

  “Mrs. President, one more question!” screamed another reporter.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “that’s all I have time for right now. I need to get back to keeping the people of this country safe. Please refer all other questions to my Press Secretary, Patricia Gilham.”

  The President walked away from the podium as Patricia stepped in her place, the reporters still yelling to get her attention. The news program cut back to the anchor, who had a finger over his mouth, focused.

  “Well,” said the anchor, “there you have it. A joint effort sent an expedition to space, and a joint effort will bring them home. Charles Stenton, channel six news.”

  FRI, MAY 26th, 2034

  Alexandria, VA, USA

  6:30 am

  T he next morning when Michael woke up for school, he saw Manny sleeping underneath a blanket on his bedroom floor. He must have been scared. Everybody seemed to be at least worried. The entire morning at breakfast was mostly silent. Ms. Tanya was glued to the morning news stream, waiting for new developments.

  The walk to school was riddled with conversations from the boys. Everyone was talking about it. The daring space rescue. Would they even survive? What would they say about what they saw in space?

  By the time he got to second period, his Social Studies class, the talk was mainstream. His teacher stood in front of his desk, leaning back onto the desk with his hands. It was immediately the first thing they talked about.

  “Today is a very interesting day, isn’t it?” asked his teacher, standing up to engage the class.

  The next half hour was spent discussing everything from the radical to the absurd. Most of the students were rambling, enjoying their opportunity to prolong the conversation to as close to the bell as possible. Michael just listened, mostly keeping his head down. His thoughts were someplace else. Or rather, with someone else.

  “I bet they come back all old and weak,” began one student, “They said it’s been what? Forty years? What if they’re not even alive? Like, what if they died on the way home?”

  “I guess that’s possible,” the teacher responded, “but let’s hope that’s not the case.”

  “I have a question,” said Michael, quieting the room.

  “Uhh, yeah, sure go ahead,” said the teacher, surprised at Michael’s cooperation.

  “Well, last night, the President said that we sent three disks to space, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, how didn’t anyone know about it? There’s no news about it or anything. It was supposed to be exploration, right? Why would you hide something like that? Where were they going?”

  “Well, I dunno Mike. I mean, I wasn’t born until…sheesh, I’m showing my age here. Two thousand and three.”

  “Dang, you old Mr. McCarthy!” yelled one of the kids, prompting the rest of the class to bust out in laughter.

  “Alright alright, calm down,” he said.

  “Can I say something Mr. McCarthy?” asked one of the girls in his class.

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Like Mike said, I wanna know where they went. I mean, it might not be something evil like everyone always thinks about the government. But what if they just seen some cool stuff?”

  “I’m just as anxious as you are,” replied the teacher, “I wanna know what they saw! I mean, deep space! That’s pretty exciting, right?”

  --- 5:51 pm ---

  That evening, after dinner, Michael sat in his room with his favorite music in his headphones, enjoying separation from everyone. All anyone wanted to talk about were the crafts. He didn’t really care too much. Something was always happening. Always distracting from something else. Someone dies of cancer, people are shocked and then people move on. A murder, a conspiracy, an information leak, all just momentary media storms meant to promote ratings and panic. His mother was right, humankind was dysfunctional.

  His wristphone began to vibrate. He sat up and looked. It was as expected; she would call at the same time every day.

  “Hey babe,” he said, answering the call through his headphones.

  “Hey Mike!” she said, her genuine excitement giving him butterflies as if she was in front of him with her lips pressed against his.

  “How was your day?”

  “Good,” she said, “everyone was just talking about those th
ree disks. Have you seen them?”

  “No, have you?” he asked.

  “My brother has a telescope. You can see them at night. It’s crazy. Like three little silver bullets headed towards us.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, you can see if you look up, just below the moon…”

  Michael got up and looked out of his window. He squinted at three small dots in the sky, barely visible. He watched as they moved slowly among the backdrop of the stars.

  “I think I see ‘em,” he said, “that’s pretty crazy.”

  “I know, right?”

  “What do you think they’re thinking up there?”

  “I dunno,” she replied, “about getting home, I guess.”

  “That’s what I’d be thinking about,” said Michael with a smirk.

  “Anyway,” she said, “I’ve gotta go a little early to practice today. I wanna run a few miles before we get started.”

  “Oh, okay. I guess I’ll talk to you later then.”

  “Ok, I’ll call you when I get home…” she paused, waiting.

  “Bye,” said Michael.

  “…bye.”

  A few moments after Michael hung up his call, he could hear Tee’s voice coming from down the hallway. Tee opened the door, covered in dirt and holding his work bag. He had an extra boost of energy today, despite getting off late.