So, Yutani thought, the digital masking isn’t perfect. The longer such masking went on, the more likely it was to break down. Recording might yet prove useful.
The individual seated beside the speaker spoke up. “The Prophet’s visions are detailed—”
“Detailed enough to frighten you, certainly,” Yutani observed, cutting him off. “Doubtlessly detailed enough to persuade you to contribute financial ‘support.’”
“Our support for the Prophet is minimal,” the speaker replied. “We provide only the basics, the essentials. He does not attempt to raise money, if that’s what you are implying. In fact, he loathes the visions and would give anything if they would stop.”
Well, Yutani thought, that was an unexpected response. If it was true.
“Pity I can’t share his ‘visions.’” He gave a casual wave. “Who knows? They might convince me to cancel the mission. That is what you want, isn’t it? To prevent the Covenant from departing. To keep humans from settling among the stars.”
“That is what we want,” two of the speakers agreed simultaneously.
“We cannot show you the Prophet’s visions,” another said.
Yutani let out a sharp grunt. “Why am I not surprised.”
“What we can do,” the speaker continued, “is share with you the visuals our creative personnel have been able to generate. Ones that represent our best interpretations of his visions.”
“Go ahead,” he told them airily. “Impress me. Persuade me. It’s only an enterprise costing billions of dollars. I’m sure your prophet’s imagery will convince me to abandon it without question.”
One of the speakers nodded, and made a gesture off to the side. Once again, the motions didn’t remain unified. Their masking continued to break down. If he could just keep them talking a while longer, he might learn something truly useful.
Abruptly the six disappeared.
Nightmares replaced them.
The images that appeared—one after another in measured procession—were relatively photorealistic. For all that they remained comparatively indistinct, but there were enough details to create a visceral response. Yutani felt himself tense up, and he clenched his jaw.
Having been raised to be familiar with contemporary horror, as well as traditional kaidan, he was not easily unsettled. Nevertheless the parade of ghastly depictions that now filled the space between the couch and the wall was like nothing he had seen or read. It was impossible to tell whether or not the victims of the carnage were human—was this a prediction of the future, of the hell that awaited mankind? As they threatened to press against him, he shrank back against the cushions.
Clearly the images were the work of master digital artists, and the raw emotions they conveyed were beyond anything Yutani had ever experienced. They played out in swirls of viscera and reformulations of grisly violence, until he finally croaked out a plea.
“All right, that’s enough… that’s enough!” He was sweating profusely, and was certain his virtual intruders could see it.
The images vanished, to be replaced once again by the row of six indistinguishable figures. One leaned slightly forward. “Do not feel ashamed by your reaction,” he said. “Ours were much the same. Realize also that each of us—at one time or another—has been witness to the Prophet in the throes of these visions.” The speaker shook his head slowly. “No reproduction, no matter how skilled the artist, can compare to the terror of such moments.”
Yutani quickly downed the last of his cold drink and immediately directed the autobar to prepare another. He drank half of it down before replying.
“Very impressive,” he said. “Yet what makes you so certain these visions, as experienced by your Prophet, represent…” he looked upward briefly and waved a hand, “creatures that live out there? Dangers lurking in space or on other worlds? I don’t mean to minimize the power of your images, but couldn’t they be ordinary nightmares? Perfectly explicable bad dreams?”
Another of the six spoke up. “In his waking hours, the Prophet has been very specific as to their origin and location.”
Yutani frowned. “You’re not going to tell me that he can provide stellar coordinates for the source of his visions?”
For the first time since they had interrupted his nightly viewing, several of the six seemed uncertain. It was left to one of their number—an individual who was not indecisive—to respond.
“He has no such acumen, does the Prophet. He can only indicate the night sky and repeat ‘out there be demons.’ So great is his waking terror that he fears to go outside even in the light of a full moon, lest he be compelled to look at the stars.” The speaker’s voice grew more deliberate. “His insights are to be believed. They must be believed! Colonies will attract attention—dangerous attention that will lead demons of unknown strength and abilities back to Earth. We do not exaggerate when we insist that the very fate of mankind itself is at stake.” Apparently aware that his voice was rising, the speaker calmed himself.
“It is a risk we cannot take,” he continued. “If we are so inclined, if mankind has the will, we can repair the damage we have done to this planet. There is no need for us to expose ourselves—unready and unprepared as we are—to the monstrous threats that lurk beyond our system. It is unquestionable. The Covenant cannot be allowed to depart.”
Another speaker took up the refrain. “We did not choose this path,” he said. “Since becoming aware, a number of us have tried—individually and together—to convince others of the dangers that lie in pushing beyond the confines of our world. No one listened to us. No one paid us the slightest attention. We were treated as less than nothing. It was that indifference that forced us to join together, and take to the shadows,” he continued. “We have tried several times now to halt the mission. Several times we have failed.
“We realize that we are taking a risk in talking to you directly, but it was decided that with time running out, the only way for the mission to be interdicted was for the head of Weyland-Yutani to understand what drives us.”
Still another of the six spoke up. “Now you have seen the evidence,” he said in a pleading tone. “Now you may understand. We have pledged our minds, our bodies, our fortunes, and our souls to protecting the Earth and its people. We ask only that you consider what we have shown you, and then decide. As a highly successful and intelligent entrepreneur—one who has proved his own abilities over and over again—we believe now that you have been shown the truth, you will respond accordingly.
“Your decision will decide the fate of our planet,” he concluded.
Yutani nodded, using a bar towel to wipe the sweat from his face and neck.
“You have given me much to think about,” he said, striving to keep his voice even. “I had no idea…” He went silent for a moment as he pressed the towel to his mouth. Removing it, he spoke with sudden resolve.
“Despite what you may believe, I cannot unilaterally cancel the Covenant mission. My competency would immediately be called into question. But I can delay its departure. In the interim, I can speak with key individuals in certain departments. Working together, I think we can come up with a plausible rationale, and put an end to any future endeavors, as well.” His jaw tightened. “Yes, I think it can be done. Not in one day, not in two, but before the ship is scheduled to depart—yes.”