ACT VII: JANUARY 12, 2029
“IF THE BUILDERS are hostile, there is no way that humanity could prevail in a war with them. If the Builders are not hostile and we attack, we would most likely drag Earth into a battle we cannot win—therefore a preemptive strategy is just an exercise in futility,” Aki said to the audience. “In looking at the possibilities, it behooves us to greet their arrival peacefully. No matter what their intentions, this would ensure the best outcome in any scenario.” Cornell University’s Ridley Hall was packed. She opened the floor to questions. One male student raised his hand immediately.
“Don’t you think your logic is pessimistic and defeatist? You claim to promote friendship. I don’t think that adopting forced amicability simply because we can’t defeat the Builders is a genuine olive branch.”
“The point I made is that there is still hope even if we cannot defeat them,” Aki responded.
“And what if we could defeat them? If we had the military power required to drive them off, would you advocate the ‘Let’s be friends’ approach?” The boy was clearly mocking her in the way he accentuated let’s be friends.
“Of course I would.”
“If we see this as being analogous to game theory and the prisoner’s dilemma, taking the pacifist route is the fool’s choice. If we do nothing and the Builders don’t attack, everybody’s happy. However, if the Builders attack we’re toast, right? If we attack no matter what, at least we’re refusing to succumb to annihilation,” the student said. The audience began to murmur excitedly.
“Your situation assumes a one-time encounter with the Builders. If we posit subsequent encounters, or an iterated prisoner’s dilemma, fleeing will only result in being run over, and I think that fighting them elicits consequences that you are failing to admit. A sufficient amount of cooperation, however, provides the potential of long-term survival with an accumulation of rewards, since it is not a zero-sum game.” Aki regretted the touch of superiority in her voice. She felt it was beneath her to fear being outsmarted by a college student.
“We should look at it as a one-time occurrence. One wrong choice and humanity is extirpated.”
“There are too few premises to build to logistic certainty or even close. If humanity were on an even playing field with the Builders, we would be able to migrate to another solar system. If this situation were fair, one Builder attack would not lead to extinction.”
The student said something about her not seeing his point. Whispers traveled through the lecture hall. Several years prior, Aki would have earned a standing ovation for a speech like this. A young woman raised her hand.
“Yes, please go ahead,” Aki said.
“I’m worried, to be honest. Next year, 2030, is the beginning of the arrival window. If the Builders arrive and see that their decelerator was tampered with, I’m afraid they’ll retaliate by launching an attack. How can I do anything but live in fear until the new Vert-Ring is completed?” Concern was evident in the quiver of the young woman’s voice.
“In life, we always have options. Why not turn that fear into a passion that you channel into researching xenocommunication methods?”
“I’d like to second those apprehensions,” said a male student seated next to the young woman. “We’re afraid, whether it’s easy to admit or not. But we need to try to be useful. If too many people are convinced that the end is nigh, or are doomsaying and spreading the meme of pessimism, the economy will collapse again. By preparing to fight, we can focus on survival instead of focusing on the possibility of being wiped out.”
“It is true that we need to prepare for all contingencies and remain positive, but fighting is not the only way to turn our outlook around,” Aki said. “We are the technologically inferior civilization. We have to adapt socially, since we simply do not have the time or resources to match the Builders in the time left before contact.”
“I was thirteen when you destroyed that first Ring. People danced in the streets for days. Photos of you and the Phalanx crewmembers were as ubiquitous as the American flag. You, Aki Shiraishi, taught me that humans can do anything they set their minds to, anything they believe in. You seem like a different person now. Why aren’t you encouraging us to be brave?”
Aki wondered if she had changed that much in seven years. Perseverance had been the watchword that got her through the immense uncertainties of life and all the risks she took. “Until that day I set foot on the Island,” she said, “I had no idea how to envision what the Builders were and what they stood for. My belief that intelligent life was involved in the creation of the Ring was nothing more than a good guess until I stood there. Even before then, there had been a theory that the Ring was a biological entity made of tiny nanomachines. Once we realized the purpose of the Island, we understood that a massive fleet of ships was coming. Our attention shifted from the center of the solar system to beyond the Oort Cloud as we looked for signs of the Builders. Nonetheless, we clung to our mission. I struggled, and I made an incredibly hard decision, knowing that the entire world was counting on me. I chose to destroy the Ring. I have never felt like I deserved to be called a heroine for making that choice. Not even once.”
Another voice in the crowd asked, “How do you feel about the death of Mark Ridley?”
“Mark…” If Mark had known the purpose of the Island, would he have acted differently? She shook her head. Discarding the contaminated engine by remote control, we still could have continued our mission. He chose to do it by hand to give us better odds at reaching the Island. Our chances of success were slim. He bet his life that he would make the difference. “There’s no such thing as a battle where you think purely with your head,” he said once. He would have done whatever it took to save humanity. The young student even looked somewhat like Mark, Aki realized. If Mark were looking at me now, what would he say? Aki mustered a response. “Mark was brave. A true hero. I am honored to be speaking here at Cornell in this hall that bears his name. That is all I can say.”
After the lecture, Aki reported to the reception that had been prepared for her. The wealthy patrons of Cornell who had sponsored her speech were waiting to shake her hand.
“Thank you. You were wonderful,” said one of the benefactors.
“Pretty rough crowd,” Aki responded. She did not know what else to say.
“They’re students. More idealism and passion than ideas, with just enough knowledge to create a justification for their hasty conclusions. If the contact dilemma was easy to solve, there would be no point in debating.”
“That is certainly true.”
DURING THE PLANE ride home, Aki considered her own positions. Aki promoted the amicable approach because she desired direct contact—in a way, all of her arguments were post hoc justifications for the pure need to see the Builders, to meet beings from another world. She could not deny some defeatism underlying her philosophy. She had always tried to stay on an even keel by tempering her enthusiasms and passions with an awareness of worst-case scenarios. If Earth technology was roughly equal to the Builders’ and she were in charge, Aki would probably place a number of interceptor ships on the front line just to be safe. She wondered if it was naïve to believe that an advanced species would never cross the expansive divide between the stars merely to invade and conquer. On the other hand, whenever technologically advanced humans encountered less “advanced” societies, invasion and conquest was precisely what happened. But humans also communicated; the Builders remained unnervingly silent.