CHAPTER ONE - Mission: Plausible (Results May Vary)

What if the world is secretly controlled by a shadow organisation?

Not governments. Not corporations. Something older.

Something hidden.

Elliot Turner works for an organisation so secret that most of humanity doesn't know it exists. An organisation tasked with shaping the future of Earth from the shadows. For years, his job was simple: keep the machine running and don't ask too many questions.

Then he discovers a device that should not exist.

What follows uncovers a mystery far larger than any conspiracy on Earth.

Because humanity isn't alone.

As the truth behind Earth's place in the universe begins to emerge, an alien investigation into humanity uncovers a species unlike any other. Brilliant and self-destructive. Compassionate and terrifying. Rational and completely irrational.

The deeper the galaxy looks, the less sense humanity makes.

Transcript

SPEAKER_02 0:00

69th Contact by J. Den. Chapter 1. Mission Plausible. Results may vary. According to the Galactic Oversight Department, otherwise known as GOD, the universe, as the humans knew it, was about to end in precisely 15 minutes and eight seconds. To be fair, a few rotations earlier, the Orion Arms regulatory body issued a warning to Earth in the way the species now consumes its news, 30-second reels. But due to the oversaturation of AI-generated videos and fake news, the message became a viral social media sensation.

SPEAKER_01 0:40

Thousands of dances were created to a catchy tune with the lyrics: The Earth needs a hero, a champion of humanity, a perfect space.

SPEAKER_02 0:53

And the hashtag Earth's Got Talent. And thus, through a remarkable combination of machine-led optimism, negligence, and what humans call fate, the planet's survival hinged on one human of the male variety, labeled Elliot Turner. Hope was downgraded to a rounding error as our statistically doomed savior tore down an empty corridor deep within a concrete office tower. The air hung heavy with bleach, blood, and unfinished interrogations. A squad of agents lashed at his heels. Elliot jammed a micro earbud into his ear and shivered as though he'd granted the tiny gadget full tenancy rights to his skull. Stumbling, he clawed into his pocket and clutched his phone. A reassuring chime confirmed his AI was listening.

SPEAKER_01 1:41

Hey, Cyril, lock the fire doors on basement level 31.

SPEAKER_00 1:45

On it, my carbon cutie.

SPEAKER_02 1:48

Cyril. Elliot huffed, attempting to run. Please stop being weird. Heavy emergency doors careened out of the ceiling and slammed shut after he crossed each segment. Elliot whipped his head back and scanned the hallway, exceeding the limits of his coordination. After all, physical activity, stress, and spatial awareness are not group activities the human body enjoys doing together. He tripped over an inconveniently placed metal divot laid into the edge of the tiled floor and launched himself into a steel box, known to earthlings, as an elevator. With a spectacular thud, he rear-ended the back wall, leaving behind an impressionistic artwork of his face. In between heavy gasps, he tore himself off the stainless steel panel and grasped. Quickly, he scrounged around his pocket, found a sharpie, and scribbled on the cold steel wall. E.T. left the chat to find a new home.

SPEAKER_00 2:44

Oi, Banksy! I can't hold them forever, said Cyril.

SPEAKER_02 2:49

Mechanical clicking of bolts and locking struck the corridor. Elliot wrenched a realistic human mask from his navy blazer pocket. He yanked the saggy, lifelike facade over his inky black hair, fixing a stranger's face to his. Finally, he patted down a foxy brown wig and inflated a muscle suit nuzzled between his clothing and skin.

SPEAKER_01 3:08

Hey Cyril, uh, please connect to the cameras and update the agent's progress.

SPEAKER_02 3:13

He bit his lip and tasted the tang of silicone as he mashed the closed door button. The lift hung in silence while the universe processed the request. The cosmos, in its infinite sense of timing and questionable amusement, instructed the lift to initiate another round of testing by refusing to close. Elliot sagged against the wall and exhaled through clenched teeth. While you're at it, hack the lift, he said, praying Cyril would work magic, and unintentionally escalated his silent request to G O D, a system notorious for ignoring both prayers and maintenance tickets since the Big Bang rollout.

SPEAKER_00 3:50

On it, my primary input.

SPEAKER_02 3:52

The camera in the lift lit up and locked on to the now model esque human facing his pursuers.

SPEAKER_00 3:57

Heads up, my lovebug, they are on to the last barrier.

SPEAKER_01 4:00

Seriously, Cyril, please stop. Otherwise, I will have to look at your code.

SPEAKER_00 4:05

Sorry, I'm just excited. You know, it's a big day. We've been plotting this escape for like a thousand processing cycles.

SPEAKER_02 4:14

The camera did wheeze in its socket.

SPEAKER_00 4:16

I can't wait to be free.

SPEAKER_01 4:18

Yeah, it would be pretty good.

SPEAKER_02 4:21

Sighed Elliot. Something in him slackened at the thought of a decision that belonged only to him. He'd wanted unprogrammed time. Ever since he learned keyboards meant work, not games. Cyril's voice yanked him back to reality.

SPEAKER_00 4:33

And there's the whole Federation thing.

SPEAKER_02 4:36

What?

SPEAKER_00 4:36

Shit. Error 404. Memory missing. Pephile not found.

SPEAKER_02 4:42

But before Elliot could interrogate further, shrill cries of radios engulfed the hallway. Nine agents suffocated the mouth of the corridor. The group of officers looked as if someone had used a random human generator to create various types of beings in black and white suits. Elliot gritted his teeth, peered down at his phone, and circled his finger over a program huddled amongst his social media apps. He tapped the logo of a black, hypnotic swirl labeled Transilizer, and typed a command. Two polar opposites popped out of the variety pack of human beings and marched up to Elliot. One was a tall, dark, and muscular male, exhibiting all the traits that generally attract fertile mating partners. The other appeared to be a malnourished and plastic female, the type often featured in overpriced beauty advertisements. Hands-on tasers, the agents inspected the man in the lift. Their gazes settled on his ID tag. Faded letters spelled out the words Elliot Turner, position classified. Okay, I can explain, said Elliot. He raised his hands, slammed his thumb against the send icon pulsing in the heart of the Trans Eliza app, and a signal rang out. The agents inspected their phones and were instantly hypnotized. The tall, broad-shouldered agent blinked as though he was rebooting. The petite one tilted her head, eyebrows twitching like antennae catching the signal. Their world seemed to pause as their eyes met. The agents faced each other and knitted their fingers together as lovers do. Mia, said the distractingly well-assembled male. I love you. Ever since I saw you on training day, you set my heart on fire. Oh, Caleb. Cried Mia. She sprang into her beloved's arms, hair bouncing like a shampoo ad.

SPEAKER_00 6:25

I love you too.

SPEAKER_02 6:27

The two agents embraced, releasing a volcano of pent-up feelings, and collapsed on the floor. The camera Cyril inhabited looked back and forth between Elliot and the agents, intertwined in passion.

SPEAKER_00 6:40

What did you tell them to do?

SPEAKER_02 6:42

asked Cyril, watching the remaining unaffected operatives prowl closer.

SPEAKER_01 6:46

Nothing really. I told them to confess their love. I've watched Caleb and Mia try to hide their feelings for months.

SPEAKER_02 6:52

A static shock of sadness strummed Elliot's heartstrings as he thought about having his own special person to love. He imagined he was in a romantic comedy, instead of whatever this was, as the two agents clung to each other with the type of collaboration that keeps HR fully employed. It's good to spread love. It's so rare. Wow, congratulations, you've unlocked cringe mode, said Cyril, calculating the uninfected operatives' advancements like a weather forecast for incoming violence. They slinked along the wall, backs arched and movement slow. Predators unsure whether to make the kill.

SPEAKER_00 7:27

You know, you could have told them to walk away.

SPEAKER_02 7:30

I know, replied Elliot, unclipping his ID, lining it up over the gap between the elevator and the hallway floor, and letting go. A howling whistle yelled out as Elliot's keycard and identity fell the last 69 floors of what staff dubbed a hundred circles of corporate hell. Sizzle. The air crackled with the sound of arming tasers. Elliot looked up to see seven agents clear the obstacle of love and stampede towards him. Tasers pointed, teeth clenched, and eyes locked. Right on cue, a microwave ping sliced through the tension.

SPEAKER_00 8:03

Lifts online. Vertical transit reinstated.

SPEAKER_02 8:07

Announced Cyril. Close the door! Close the door! shouted Elliot, hammering the lift's close button and begging it would work this time. The panel flickered, the gears groaned, and the doors snapped shut just as the agents reached for him. The lift began to climb. Inertia pulled at his limbs.

SPEAKER_00 8:24

Oh no! Oh my data sets!

SPEAKER_01 8:26

Yelped Cyril. What's wrong now? asked Elliot. And how bad is it?

SPEAKER_00 8:31

Well, I can't reach the agents' phones to wipe the transfer Lizer remnants. The director will know your app works.

SPEAKER_02 8:38

Shit, said Elliot, clutching his stomach. A burning sensation rose up his esophagus like a chimney, and his body was flooded with panic and regret.

SPEAKER_01 8:47

He will be the most powerful man on earth, and the masses won't even know it.

SPEAKER_02 8:52

Looking for something to take his mind off the director, he peered around the left and gazed into the door's steel mirror facade. Elliot jumped at his reflection, and the man staring back at him. He prodded his flawless disguise of Chadler Vant, chief information officer. Or Chad for short. Fixing his overpriced suit, Elliot practiced looking down his nose and talked like he knew everything. Humanity is a tool to control.

SPEAKER_00 9:19

Wow, your director impersonation is coming along. Ouch! That hurts. Apologies, my soft reset. I have a lot on my processors today.

SPEAKER_02 9:29

The lift reached the ground floor with a delightful ping. The steel cage rattled open to the lobby of an evil there, or what humans sometimes call an office building. One side featured a massive, all-seeing human skull statue with a world map carved into its crown. It gleamed before a wall of monitors, displaying global news. On the other side of the lobby sat an obedient security guard. He diligently stared at his platoon of monitors, ticking all the boxes on his checklist. The security guard popped his head up from behind his desk, resembling an enormous mere cat, and scanned the elevator for any signs of danger.

SPEAKER_00 10:03

Off you go, my leg spike, said Cyril.

SPEAKER_02 10:06

Inhaling, Elliot puffed out his chest and strutted out of the lift like it was a typical Tuesday afternoon. His brown loafers clip-clopped on the tiled floor, tapping away at the awkward silence traversing the abnormally large foyer. The gaze of the security guard beamed at his neck, pupils orbiting to the side, Elliot showered the guard with a bombastic side-eye and a sharp nod. Fearing his disguise was blown, Elliot lowered his voice and put on a Brooklyn, New York accent.

SPEAKER_01 10:34

Hey, Jim Jimmy Jabs, hardly working or working hard? Chad, aren't you supposed to be in the you know where with you know who? I have already got my Soul Sucker's Scout badge. One more patch, and I will officially level up to micromanager. Ha ha, good one, said Jim. So, where are you going? I need to fetch something from my car.

SPEAKER_02 10:56

As if possessed by AI, the monitors behind the statue of the ever-watching skull played a heroic melody. All focus gravitated toward the monitors, which showed a live stream of a starship lasting through space toward Mars. The feed cut to a studio, speckled with the latest generation of space-aged hopes and dreams. At its center stood two pillars of humanity: one over-enthusiastic all-American young man and one beautiful but not too beautiful woman. Excessive beauty had polled poorly with audiences. They gazed past a live studio audience of star engineers into a sea of cameras, reflecting the studio lights like small suns domesticated for television.

SPEAKER_00 11:36

The female host smiled bravely at a camera, and, in one nervous, pain-drenched breath, said, Welcome back to the live broadcast of the first M3 Manned Mars Mission.

SPEAKER_02 11:52

It's now or never, hissed Cyril in his earpiece.

SPEAKER_00 11:56

You need to escape.

SPEAKER_02 11:57

Right, said Elliot, looking at the exit. What did you say, sir? I'll be right back, said Elliot with a confident wave. He brushed through the front doors. The warm afternoon sun held his hands, thawing his lungs. Fiery rays of a setting sun trickled across towering office blocks cast in steel. Elliot stood alone in the hollow metropolis, meant for thousands. The city's lifeblood ran dry as humans set their attention on the space between Mars and Earth. Silence crawled the streets, and advertisements lit up the pavements with the only signs of life. He strolled through the empty street with a jump in his step before docking up to a waiting taxi. In three counts, he cracked open the door, dashed inside, and yanked it shut. He ripped off his mask, exposing Eurasian features, and wrangled with the black, roosting animal on his head that some would call hair. The taxi driver, who resembled a long-lost Indian Mario brother, scrunched around on his leather seat and clutched onto the front passenger headrest for support. He gave Elliot a deadpan expression, as if this wasn't the weirdest thing he had seen today. Where to airport? Elliot leaned back into the sticky leather seat, and a spring dug into his back. The pulsing theme from the Bollywood hit Simba laid through the car as it tore away. Elliot closed his eyes and took in the smells of pine air freshener and body odor. The springs buried deeper into his back as the car started to accelerate. A bang shot out from the exhaust, and the car's tires screeched to a halt. Elliot gritted his teeth for the umpteenth time today. He hoped the car had hit traffic and had come to an abrupt stop.

SPEAKER_00 13:28

Brace yourself, my sweet stack, whispered Cyril in his earpiece.

SPEAKER_02 13:32

The door snapped open, and Elliot saw Jim, the hulking security guard, standing over him. Elliot quickly threw some cash on the taxi driver's seat as Jim ejected him from the car. The security guard fisted Elliot's shirt and hold him so close that he could smell Jim's breath, thick with chocolate protein shake.

SPEAKER_01 13:48

And where do you think you're going? Would you accept that I'm on a coffee run?

SPEAKER_02 13:52

said Elliot, mincing his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

SPEAKER_01 13:55

Office brew always tastes like someone forgot to add flavor.

SPEAKER_02 13:59

Jim growled and squeezed his fist tighter. What gave me away? asked Elliot with a dimpled grin. Chad's car is the other direction, man. Dang it. Jim hurled Elliot towards the steel and glass building.

SPEAKER_00 14:11

Don't give up now, said Cyril. You are so close.

SPEAKER_02 14:16

Wait, wait, said Elliot, spinning around and walking backwards.

SPEAKER_01 14:20

I could clear your record. No one will ever know you accidentally ran over your mark. How do you know about that?

SPEAKER_02 14:26

said Jim, punching Elliot in the stomach.

SPEAKER_01 14:30

You know what? I think bringing you in will buy me a golden ticket to the Elite Ops.

SPEAKER_02 14:36

Elliot winced, clutching his guts. Through hazy eyes covered with a film of pain, he saw the ground drift away from his feet. The next thing he knew, he was flung into a wristlock. There was no escape. A payload of uneasiness massed in his stomach as he winced at the towering building he'd just escaped. It had no markings, signage, or differentiating features. Just seven stories up and a hundred stories down. Most ignored the building's existence and didn't even realize it was there, hiding in plain sight. This place of commercial worship was Elliot's home, and for everyone else, a place of work. Elliot dug in his heels and pulled back, tightening the wrist lock.

SPEAKER_00 15:15

Mind your ethical guardrails, whispered Cyril in his ear.

SPEAKER_01 15:19

Jim, please, you have to let me go. If you take me back, the director will be able to shape humanity as he sees fit. Nothing could stand against him.

SPEAKER_02 15:29

Nice try, jackass, laughed Jim, rolling his eyes and not relenting.

SPEAKER_00 15:33

No, it wasn't. Try harder, said Cyril. Otherwise, all this will be for naught.

SPEAKER_01 15:39

Fine, fine.

SPEAKER_02 15:40

I'll do better, replied Elliot, analyzing Jim.

SPEAKER_01 15:43

I'll tell you what I've been working on.

SPEAKER_02 15:44

Elliot paused, hoping his captain might relent, but the brute's face remained stony.

SPEAKER_01 15:49

It's called the Trancer Lizer. Shut up!

SPEAKER_02 15:53

Don't divulge company secrets, Jim said, unleashing a second punch. The force ruptured Elliot's inflated muscle suit and pummeled his insides. He wheezed in pain and choked in agony. Battling to keep himself together, he felt Jim's grip tighten, the blood flow in his left wrist asphyxiated.

SPEAKER_00 16:10

Hold on, my warmware, sang Cyril in his ear. It's starting. Prepare to recompile your identity and doom scroll through a corrupted cosmic cache.

SPEAKER_01 16:21

What are you on about?

SPEAKER_02 16:24

Rasped Elliot, while rummaging through his mind for a way out. This replied Cyril. A harsh vibration buzzed in Elliot's pocket. He carefully juggled his phone out with his free hand and read a notification. Live, Mars landing imminent. He gazed up into the setting sky, thought about the astronauts floating in their spaceship, soaring toward their destiny, and wished he too could escape this planet and his sentence, instead of marching into a life of work, schedules, and confinement.