Sloan turns and stares steely-eyed at Sean, “That way, I believe, is what continues to give you nightmares, Professor.”
Jesus, how the hell does she know about that? Sean thinks. There is only one person she could have received that information from.
Sean had confided in Rosenstein about that day in the jungle years ago, and Sean begins to wonder who else Rosenstein told his story to. The information is highly classified, and if it is revealed Sean shared the events of that day with a civilian, he could find himself in some hot water with the government. The threat of prosecution, however, quickly takes a back seat to what he has just learned.
Sloan’s remark suggests there is a connection between that horrible day in the jungle and these extraterrestrials. Sean immediately thinks of the unusual “weapons” the brass issued to his squad to use on the villagers. Suddenly, there are several pressing questions Sean now considers.
Who or what were the targets that day? Had my team been thrown to the wolves, ordered into a fight against an enemy we had little chance of defeating? If so, were our superiors fully aware of our slight chances? Were we deliberately placed in harm’s way? Was my team and our new “weapons” the real test subjects?
Sean recalls the amount of ammunition his squad expended on the villagers, and how the enemy continued their relentless assault, as if the bullets had no effect on them. The bizarre sound of the bullets meeting their targets’ bodies echoes in his mind, and suddenly, with the new information gleaned from Sloan, things become considerably clearer from that day.
“I see Al has been sharing some stories with you, Ms. Sloan,” Sean says indignantly.
Sloan does not respond and continues to stare straight ahead.
After a few moments pass, Sean asks, “If these EBEs were so much stronger than us and had no reason to fear our conventional weapons, why didn’t they simply overpower their captors and escape?”
“Who said they didn’t?”
Sean is quiet for a moment. “So they did escape?”
Ignoring the question, Sloan asks, “Do you mind if I continue?”
Without waiting for Sean to reply, she continues, “Now, besides their incredible physical attributes, what really dusted the Foundation are their cognitive abilities. They are remarkable problem-solvers, and are able to learn new things at an alarming rate.
“The Foundation gave the pair several math problems only a handful of humans on the planet can solve, and they were able to produce the answers to them in less than four minutes; they can speak fluently any human language after hearing only a few words; they are so familiar with the names and parts of the human body, they would embarrass a veteran surgeon; they were able to land a crippled plane in a flight simulator on their first attempt; they can build anything as simple as a birdhouse or as complex as a television; they were able to read a dissertation on electrical engineering in a tenth of the time it would take the fastest speed reader to complete it, not to mention provide a complete and concise summary of it; they had perfect scores on the SATs, the bar exam, the CPA exam, and the list goes on and on.
“In short, Professor, they seem to possess an astute knowledge of everything concerning the human race and the planet we inhabit.”
“But how is that possible?” Sean desperately asks. “How could they know things, human things, they have never come in contact with before? Unless . .”
“Yes?” Sloan asks patiently.
“Unless they have been watching us all along,” Sean finishes his thought.
Sloan smirks and states, “You’re starting to catch on, Professor.”
Sean waits in anticipation, preparing for another one of Sloan’s deft maneuvers away from the subject. Instead, she slows the car and steers it toward the shoulder of the highway. It is completely black outside the car except for the illumination supplied by their headlights. Nothing and no one appears to be in the immediate vicinity.
“What are you doing?” Sean asks, looking around in alarm, half-expecting to see an EBE directly outside his window.
Without answering, Sloan reaches beneath her seat and holds up what appears to be the smallest spray bottle ever invented. Sloan brings the car to a stop and remarks, “A present from the doctor.”
She opens her window and instructs him, “Take a look outside, Professor.”
Sloan pulls the handle on the spray bottle and a light mist is expelled. Sean’s jaw nearly hits the floor of the car.
The mist possesses a greenish hue and is luminous, practically glowing in the darkness. The mist illuminates what appear to be hundreds of tiny bugs. However, unlike ordinary bugs, these have a silvery, metallic appearance.
“Do you see them, Professor?” Sloan asks.
Sean stares spellbound at them as the mist begins to dissipate.
“What are they?” he asks, transfixed by the miniscule creatures.
Before Sloan answers, she punches the gas pedal and moves back onto the two-lane highway, picking up speed and leaving the little critters in their wake.
“Are you familiar at all with nanoprobes?”
“You’ve got me there, Ms. Sloan,” Sean concedes.
Sloan explains, “What you just saw were tiny robotic crafts, sent by our galactic neighbors, who most likely have been gathering information on us and our planet for a considerable length of time. These nanoprobes may explain how they know so much about us.”
Sean stares at her dumbfounded, uncertain which question to ask first out of the dozens bouncing around inside his head.
“Just think about the absolute efficiency of it, Professor,” she points out. “Miniaturized probes that require a minimum amount of energy, thrust across trillions of miles of interstellar space. For all we know, these things could have been observing the dinosaurs on Earth sixty-five million years ago.”
“But how do they transmit information back to whoever or . . whatever sent them?”
Sloan shakes her head, “This we do not know.”
We?
“Whenever they have been ‘caught,’ the probes seem to shut down and simply turn to dust, almost like a self-destruction process. It is unknown how they gather, store, or transmit their information. The only thing we know about them is now we can see them” – Sloan holds up the tiny spray bottle – “and that they’re not ours.
“By that, I mean the human race’s,” she clarifies.
“I gathered,” Sean responds.
There are a few moments of silence as Sean attempts to digest the utterly mind-boggling information Sloan has fed him. He turns the information over and over again, trying to process it, categorize it, or simply understand it. The ramifications this information could have on the annals of history are so vast and far-reaching, his knee-jerk reaction is to remain skeptical, to doubt the validity of Sloan’s story. Sean will not allow himself to believe what she has told him as fact because it would change everything we ever thought we knew about ourselves and our history.
“Ms. Sloan,” Sean says gravely, “you are telling me that these beings have been watching us, peeking over our shoulders for possibly the entirety of our history. Everything we have ever done as a race, good or bad, is suspect of having been studied and analyzed. Our strengths . . our weaknesses . .”
Sean trails off for a moment when another thought occurs to him.
“Who’s to say they haven’t been manipulating us from the very beginning?”