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“It’s listing the prime numbers,” Alex said.

Vera twisted around to look at him. “Whoa. You can see that?”

Martin shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious. Can you skip ahead a bit?”

Vera scrolled down.

“Okay, stop there,” Alex said. “It lists primes up to one-twenty-seven, and now it’s showtime.”

Vera typed some more. “Hang on, guys. We can’t all read the raw signal. Here it is converted to binary, and …” Her voice trailed off when a message popped up on one of her screens. It read “1009 bursts of 8,072 bits. Stand by …”

She pointed to it. “This is a message from my colleague in Norway, who is also working on this.”

“It’s an image.” Alex crossed his arms. “1,009 by 1,009, eight bits per pixel.”

Vera nodded. “Right. 8,072 is 1,009 times eight, and 1,009 is prime, so …”

An image and text appeared from her Norwegian colleague. “Check it out, Baby. It’s an image!!!” The image was all black with a one-pixel border.

“All right! That shows us that we got it,” Martin said. “It’s the primer image. Now let’s see the meat—”

“And the potatoes.” Alex clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

By sunrise they determined, working closely with the Norwegian group, that not only did they have a series of images, but that the images together made up a gray-scale video. Jake and Charli arrived at this point, and McGraw showed them the short video and then walked them through it.

“Okay,” said McGraw. “Starting at the first, post-primer shot, here we see a black and white picture of an Earth-like planet, with DJ1 above it. Of course, we haven’t seen DJ1 up close, but this object here,” he indicated it with the laser pointer, “is consistent with the light curve we’ve seen.”

Jake asked, “Why do you think he’s showing us a nighttime image? Wouldn’t a shot during the day do a better job of showing what the planet is like?”

Alex pointed to the image. “By showing the night side of a planet, it suggests that intelligent beings inhabit the planet. These lights here look just like what you’d see if you were looking at Earth. If these are landmasses, then just as on Earth, there are more lights on the coasts.”

McGraw nodded and looked back at the screen. “So, here it’s just orienting us. It’s saying ‘here’s me and here’s you or a planet much like yours.’”

He advanced the video and then paused it. “Okay, notice how it zoomed out. Now it shows a view of our galaxy, the Milky Way, as seen from a distance. When the image zoomed out, it kept the inhabited planet highlighted with a bright spot. We’re sure it’s saying ‘This is you. You are an intelligent species. We’ve marked your location with a bright spot.”

McGraw advanced the video and pointed to several new bright spots in the galaxy. “Now, here is message number one. We think DJ1 is now saying, ‘Look at the other bright dots in the galaxy. They also indicate planets of intelligent species. You are not alone.’ We counted forty-two bright dots. We think it’s showing us some other civilizations that DJ1’s society knows about.”

“Forty-two isn’t many,” Jake said. “How many stars in the galaxy?”

“Four hundred billion. Agreed, not many dots. But perhaps those are just examples. Or maybe intelligent life is exceedingly rare.” McGraw advanced it some more. “Okay, now we’ve zoomed back into a frame with Planet One, which we think represents Earth and DJ1 together. Message two is a little more esoteric, but stay with me. Here you see some concentric arcs and they are moving from the planet to the probe. This looks like our own schematic representation of the transmission of a radio signal. It’s not culturally specific. If you could see radio waves, the individual fronts of each wave would look something like that.”

“So,” Charli said, “you think DJ1 is saying ‘Send us a message.’”

McGraw pointed to her and snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Now, as we move forward, it zooms out again, and, based on our earlier assumption, shows DJ1 sending a signal out to the other civilizations. So, the full message is simple. ‘Send us a message, and we will relay it on to the other civilizations in the galaxy.’”

McGraw looked tired but had his ta-da face on.

Alex raised his hand as if in school. “You missed something.”

“I missed something?” McGraw looked at him, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

“Can you move the video back to where it shows the signal to DJ1 and the signal from DJ1 outward, and run that in a loop?”

“Okay, hold on.” Vera entered some commands until the loop played.

“Notice anything?” Alex said.

McGraw squinted. “Well there is the speed—”

“Exactly. The signal from us to DJ1 is slow. The signal from DJ1 to the others is fast.”

Charli said, “Ah, is that just the difference in scale?”

“No,” Alex said. “That would go the other way. That is, if it were just scale, the signal from DJ1 would be slower because we’re zoomed out. So here’s what I see as the full message. ‘You are not alone. Send a message to us, and we will relay it to other civilizations in the galaxy, and we will send it at faster than light speeds.”

McGraw shook his head, “I’m still not a fan of FTL communication.”

“Well, it’s impossible to ignore the difference in the speed of those arcs. It’s an obvious feature of the video.” Alex pulled on a lock of his blue hair. “We’ve already surmised that the sneeze-causing wave was FTL.”

“And there’s another thing we can infer from this,” Jake said.

Charli looked at him. “What’s that?”

“Cronkite and DJ1 are from different civilizations.”

“Because DJ1’s communication is so primitive, while Cronkite’s is more advanced?” Alex asked.

“Actually, I think it’s the other way around.” Jake crossed his arms.

Martin knitted his eyebrows. “But DJ1 sent us this piddling one-minute, black-and-white video, while Cronkite has Technicolor, full sound—”

“Right, but here’s my theory.” Jake paused. “DJ1 is an automated probe. There’s nobody home. The civilization loaded it with this simple message then sent out into the galaxy to spread the word.”

“Like Jesus,” Charli said.

Everyone looked at her.

She laughed and held her hands out. “Just kidding. But you have to admit, the way you said it …”

Vera smiled and shook her head. “Okay, so let’s say these two are different. That’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it? I mean, no contact for, what, forever, and then two contacts at once?”

“I don’t see it as a coincidence,” Jake said. “I’d conclude that either the appearance of Cronkite caused the appearance of DJ1 or the other way around. And we have to consider the possibility that DJ1 represents—”

“The bad witch,” Charli said.

Jake nodded. “Exactly.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

September 14, 2018

Three months after the die-off, the Nonpartisan Cafe was doing well. Yes, the world had changed, but people still needed their coffee, and most other coffee shops had closed. DC had weathered the catastrophe well, and in many ways, life had returned to normal. A new normal in which seventy percent of friends and loved ones were gone.

In line, Charli tilted her head back and breathed in the time-to-wake-up smell of espresso. She nodded her head slightly to the sounds of Bill Evans—the real Bill Evans—playing “Waltz for Debby.” The walls were covered with photographs of famous politicians drinking coffee. The largest showed Eisenhower and Nixon toasting one another with coffee cups.

Charli ordered a large espresso and did a double take. Jake sat, in full cyclist gear, alone in a corner.

She took her drink over to his table. “This seat taken, Lance?” She sat across from him without getting a response and sipped her drink. “Looks like someone is grumpy before his morning ride.”

“How do you know I haven’t already been riding?”

“Well, considering that sunrise is still twenty minutes away, and you’re wearing your sleepy eyes …” Charli went to the window and looked out at Jake’s bike then came back. “Looks like a ride could be fun.”

“The riding I do is a bit … technical.” Jake grumbled his answer.

“Oh, I see. Technical, as in too hard for a little girl like me. But you know what they say about riding a bike …”

“That once you learn, you never forget.” Jake said it without looking up.

“No, they say that guys who ride in those tight little sissy outfits are …”

Jake said, “Fit?”

“No, what’s the word?” She tapped her chin and gazed at the ceiling. “Oh yeah, sissies.”

“Have you got a bike?”

“Are you inviting me on a ride?”

“Maybe.” He sipped his coffee.

“I could probably borrow a bike—I guess it could be interesting. You must have found an open shop and bought a new one, right?”

“There’s one that’s open at Seventh and L.”

“You found one you could afford?” she asked.

Jake made a little “humph” noise and drank some more coffee. “We could find some easy ride for you.”

“I heard someone talk about a fun hill to ride. Sugar Mountain.” Charli tapped her nose. “Something like that.”

“Sugarloaf?”

Charli snapped her fingers. “Yeah that’s it. Think that would be too technical for me?” She put bunny quotes around the word technical.

“When?” Jake asked.

“How about tomorrow morning, around sunrise. Unless two days in a row would be too hard for you. I realize that at your age—”

“I’ll meet you tomorrow,” he said. “And there’s one thing that’s very important.”

Charli leaned toward him and put on a mock-serious face. “I’m all ears.”

“When you borrow your friend’s bike,” he said as he got up, “remove the training wheels.”

* * *

September 15, 2018

Jake had already unloaded his bike. He sat on the hood of his car in the Marysville High School parking lot when Charli pulled up. He’d already run through his stretches—his best medicine for keeping aches at bay. Good day for a fall ride. The sun was rising over the residential neighborhood and the air was cool. Theirs were the only cars in the lot. Jake wore his new high-tech cycling jacket, and Charli had a standard windbreaker.

“Wow, that's a nice bike,” Jake said when Charli opened the back of her car.

“Is it? I borrowed it from a good friend who rides a lot.”

“Well, we'll have to fit it to you; that will take a while.” Jake took the bike out of the car and looked it over.

“Oh, don’t be silly. I rode it around the block and it was fine. I think it’s the right size. She's about the same height as I am. She told me to use these special shoes, too.” Charli stuck one leg out and angled her foot back and forth. “They, like, hook into the pedals or something. You must know how they work.” She looked up into his face.

“Oh no, you don't want to use those, you'll have trouble getting unclipped and fall over.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got, Lance—I’m guessing barefoot would be a bad idea. And besides, how hard can it be?” She started to get on the bike, but Jake stopped her.

“Helmet?”

“Oh, yeah, there’s one in the car, but I’m just going to ride around the parking lot.”

“You need to wear it now, because you’re going to fall.” Jake got the helmet and put it on her head. “Wow, this strap is way too loose, your friend must have a big head.”

“Not as big as yours.”

After Jake got the helmet adjusted, she took a spin around the parking lot. She had some trouble clipping into the pedals but no trouble riding. She returned with a smug look on her face, but when she stopped, she couldn’t get her right foot undone, and with a feminine squeal, fell against the car. She frowned and slapped the hood.

“You can wipe that I-told-you-so look off your face, Mr. Armstrong, because I’m going to whup your elderly butt on this ride.”

They rode side-by-side through the deserted streets, and although she had some trouble with the gears, her bike handling was good. When he complimented her on it, she said, “I guess it’s just like riding a bike, and I don’t even need a sissy outfit.”

“You’re going to wish you had a sissy outfit. The seam on those jeans will make you sore down there.” He pointed at her crotch.

“I think I’ll be okay. And just so you know, ‘down there’ is none of your business, Mr. Corby.”

After a few miles, Charli shifted the talk to business. “So, why do you think we haven’t heard anything from Cronkite? It’s been months now.”

“No idea. Maybe he’s just giving us time to process things.” Jake emphasized “process” the same way Cronkite had.

“If Cronkite’s genuine, he would be talking with us, telling us more about the bad witch, helping us make plans.” Charli skirted a pothole.

“I don’t think ‘genuine’ and ‘Cronkite’ belong in the same sentence,” he said.

“How do you like our new living arrangement—everyone in the White House? I know you’re quite an introvert.”

Jake shrugged. “Sophia is enjoying it.”