The press conference started with a few introductory words by physicist Stephen Hawking, who had died fifteen years earlier. The organizers had used a collection of Hawking’s writings to train an AI to express the same enthusiasm the well-known and respected researcher would probably have expressed about this project.
Time had somehow heard of the event beforehand. Their title story promised a sensation to be announced by NASA and ESA in the coming weeks. Reporters must have listened to the scientists chatting in the bathrooms. ‘Life in Space—We Are Not Alone,’ the news magazine proclaimed in large, bold font. However, the headline was too good to be true. The article could only hint at what was behind the invitation to a press conference in an auditorium at MIT, sent out jointly by the scientific magazines Nature and Science. Martin watched the stream with a time delay and a pause button because he wanted to listen at his leisure.
After the pseudo speech by Hawking, the two female editors-in-chief of these publications simulated a dialog that was obviously not directed at the scientists present, but to a worldwide audience. The editor of Nature, who appeared to be about twenty years older than her colleague at Science, had brought along a lab rat that sat calmly on her shoulder.
“What is life?” she asked, first looking at the audience and then at her colleague. “Is this sweetie here,” she continued, taking the rat from her shoulder and petting it, “alive?”
“Yes. Certainly, it is. You can see that at once,” said the editor of Science, reaching into her lab coat. Martin thought the costumes were ridiculous. Editors-in-Chief do not work in a lab, but in an office. “And this gorgeous emerald,” said the woman from Science as she held up a shimmering green crystal of impressive size, “is this alive?”
“It’s certainly not!” The editor of Nature did not even look at it, but addressed the audience as if to ask for confirmation.
The other woman raised her eyebrows. “Ahh, but it grew by natural means from a seed crystal. Not out in nature, but in a lab—then again, your rat was probably not born in the sewers, either. And while my stone grew and thrived, it also created order, and thus increased the disorder or entropy in its environment. Those are features of life, aren’t they?”
“And that’s the problem with the definition of life,” explained the editor of Nature. “If you see it in action, you think you can immediately recognize it, as you have an idea of what it should look like.”
“That is, it should look like you,” the younger editor from Science replied.
Martin thought the whole show was getting pretty silly. Yet, he knew science needed money—a lot of money—and politicians only approved large grants when the electorate welcomed research.
“Imagine a robot civilization,” the Nature editor started again. “There are enough examples of this in science fiction. If extraterrestrials sent a spaceship to Earth and they observed a car, what would they consider to be alive? The vehicle? The driver? Would it be so far-fetched in their scrutiny that Earth was dominated by a civilization of clever cars that had constructed organic units to take care of their reproduction?”
Her colleague from Science shrugged her shoulders, but did not say anything.
“Well, I just wanted to demonstrate to you the problems our researchers have been facing—and are still facing. Please consider their results in the proper context. Dr. Danielle Shriver of Harvard University will now explain something to us—we are not at all sure what Elf found.”
Dr. Shriver took her place in front of the audience, beginning by adjusting her glasses. One could see she resented this staged scenario, but she nevertheless played along out of necessity. She started her presentation with the moment when the ELF probe—the Enceladus Life Finder, she clarified—had sent its first data. She explained which instruments had measured which molecular forms in which concentrations, how the ECDA, or Enhanced Cosmic Dust Analyzer, had detected hydrocarbon compounds in the geyser-like jets, and how a special instrument on the lander had identified lipids less than a meter below the surface ice. She showed which indicators for amino acids had been found by the mass spectrometer and the fluorescence detector. Most important of all, Dr. Shriver described how the team had concluded through specific computer simulations that these substances were most likely the results of biological processes. This meant they were not caused by random forces, but by a consistent process toward more order, the very antithesis of decay and destruction.
“For this reason, I think I can correct the previous speaker in one aspect. We have found definite signs of life. The probe has detected the digestion by-products of your space rat. Now we only have to catch the little critter itself!”
Dr. Shriver put down the sheet of paper she had only pretended to read from, pushed her glasses upward again, and blinked at the members of the audience as they gave her a well-deserved applause. A cold shiver ran down Martin’s spine when he heard this, and he saw the handwriting on the wall. Someday, someone will have to travel 1.2 billion kilometers, cross half the solar system, and explore Enceladus, he thought. At that moment, if anyone had foretold that he would be part of that crew, he would have only given them a pitying smile and said they had a screw loose.
The world was changed forever by this announcement. Not everyone reacted the same way to the certainty of life having developed elsewhere. The majority of the public was enthusiastic about this new discovery, and popular culture of the time reflected this enthusiasm in various ways. Coca-Cola changed the shape of its classic glass bottle. Documentaries described what the scientists had found—or what the producers and journalists thought they had to show to gain attention. Students were streaming into biology majors. NASA received an incredible number of applications for astronaut training. Even the military profited, as many believed fighter pilots had a better chance of getting accepted for a space mission.
The space agencies worldwide stayed surprisingly calm. Supposedly, NASA, ESA, and JAXA had not prepared manned missions, nor were they planning to do so. No one expected much from the Russians, who had been chronically short of funds since their annexation of Ukraine and the ensuing decade of being excluded from the world economy. Not even the Chinese, who put incredible amounts of money into prestige projects, presented plans for a visit to the life forms on Enceladus. Martin and many space enthusiasts like him were initially deeply disappointed, but in hindsight, this reticence turned out to be a clever strategy.
At first, private space companies used the opportunity created by the reluctance of government agencies. It turned out each major company had already developed plans for a deep space expedition. SpaceX, which was supposed to have arrived on Mars with 100 astronauts a long time ago, suggested converting the spacecraft intended for this mission—which was 90 percent complete—for a smaller crew, but a significantly longer journey. Blue Origin dusted off TransHab, an old NASA project, and planned to launch it into space with its three-stage rocket New Glenn. The Malaysian entrepreneur Amirul bin Yusof, who during the last 15 years had bought up a group of large corporations to create his economic empire—among them the former aerospace leader Boeing—promised to search for the nature of life on Enceladus using an all-Asian crew.
After a few weeks of huge enthusiasm, the first critical voices began to be heard. The media, whose documentaries and features were experiencing declining ratings, and whose audiences were desperate for something new, gave these critics plenty of airtime. Suddenly, the biologists were confronted by talk show hosts firing pointed questions that might be scientifically implausible but could be understood by the common people. Might not this new form of life present a danger to us all? Wouldn’t a cell that survived at minus 180 degrees Celsius be far superior to the feeble and fragile life forms on Earth? Might there be a sleeping giant on this moon of Saturn who could be awakened by a visit—with unpredictable consequences?