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Zen's World: The Message
A First Contact Story

CHAPTER ONE
The Launch

02/07/2074 03:00:00Z (20:00 Z-7)

Ellie sits in the sleek maglev shuttle from Long Beach to the Catalina Spaceport, grinning like a kid on her first roller coaster. I’m going to space!

She marvels at the cabin interior covered in view screens. It’s like riding in an underwater glass train! As the car clears the murky, industrial waters of the port, the view outside the submerged tunnel suddenly opens into the deep, dark blue of the San Pedro Channel.

Above, a cluster of brilliant spotlights cuts through the darkness, revealing the immense, dark hull of an outbound cargo freighter. A team of tugboats guides the hulk towards an unknown destination.

The sheer scale of it, even from this distance, is breathtaking. The miracle of modern technology, she thinks. This is ultra-first class.

She chuckles to herself, thinking about where she was this morning. I woke up in a mud hut covered in green clay goop wearing nothing but a loincloth, and here I am, on my way to space, all clean and fresh in my fancy dress.

A dress she’d grabbed in the Rio airport during a short layover.

The view is so different from her last six months in the Amazon that she doesn’t notice the man sitting beside her is already speaking.

She turns to look at him and hears only, “Blah blah, bla, blah?”

Ellie laughs out loud and realizes she’s been thinking in the native dialect of an uncontacted tribe.

“Excuse me?”

“Hey gorgeous… I saw you in the terminal and figured I should introduce myself.” He bats his eyes. “Marcus.”

Ellie suddenly remembers how modern men act and says, “That sounds a lot like stalking.”

Marcus responds, “Let me guess, you’re a dancer for the Bolshoy?”

Ellie laughs, thinking again about washing her only pair of pants in the river just that morning.

She says, “Yeah, close.” She muses to herself, My ten year grant extension for one year offworld made me want to dance, so ya, a dancer.

“You might have seen me in Ocean’s 77 or Sands of Mars,” Marcus adds, watching for a reaction. “I was in both.” Marcus waits, as if expecting applause. “Impressed?”

She easily reads his intentions. “That’s nice,” she says smoothly.

Marcus asks, “Where are you headed?”

The hair on the back of Ellie’s neck stands up at the thought that he might be an EC agent, probing for information. She has been warned not to discuss any aspect of her contract. The briefing officer’s voice echoes in her head: They will test you. They will probe. Be polite, be vague, be forgettable.

She could respond, “That’s classified,” but that would reveal too much.

Instead, she just turns it on him. “Where are YOU headed?”

Marcus reacts, and Ellie thinks, He’s suddenly unsure. Just another narcissistic predator trying to score? Ugh.

Ellie jams it home and says, “I see. You’re on a classified mission. What’s the nature of your command? Are you TKA?”

Marcus is confused and babbles uncontrollably.

Ellie keeps it going. “Ah, TKA on a secret mission and you’re not in command. What’s the nature of your classified work?”

His jaw works, then he chuckles. “I’ll let you wonder what you’re missing. Enjoy your trip.” He retreats behind her.

Ellie smiles to herself and goes back to staring at the amazing view.


Full manuscript:
https://zens-world.com/downloads/the_message_draft.pdf