Prologue:
October 19, 2017
Dallas Ooguri had a weak spot ... he was a skeptical yet reliable sucker for improbable things. He was a young NASA pilot with a high priority passenger that searched the heavens above the West Coast with a singular focus, mission by mission. That passenger was the HAWC+ telescope and it tested polarization and magnetic fields across the galaxy. So, essentially, he was a chauffeur for a telescope on a plane, at least for one more flight.
There were five missions scheduled that night on OC5-N Flight 4. Technically they were called “investigations” but Dallas had found that women in the local Hermosa bars responded better when they heard something that sounded more covert.
Each investigation was scheduled to last an hour and the first four went off without a hitch. The scientific goals, approval and funding had all been completed a year in advance, so there had been plenty of time to mitigate any anomalies. The last thing Dallas expected that night was a report from his flight engineer that the fifth investigation had gone rogue.
“Yeah right ... you choose the last mission before I join OSIRIS-REx to tell me we’re not tracking.”
“Umm sir, you mean investigation?”
“Yeah, yeah ... investigation. How about you go back to measuring Bok globules and I fly the 747SP without busted balls.”
The humorless flight engineer came up to occupy the co-pilot seat. He flipped through his notebook and mumbled to himself.
“Sir, we’re apparently broadcasting to some asteroid .... it’s a long object tumbling through space.”
“Wow, they really put you up to some world-class bullshit. Okay, I’ll play along. Who’s the PI on this one?”
“Principal investigator is a Dr. Hans Mauer.”
“All right, let’s get him on the phone.”
The flight engineer was able to patch through to Mauer’s emergency contact number in Germany and tried to effect a calm tone.
“Dr. Mauer this is SOFIA calling ... I know it’s late but do you have a moment?”
The voice on the other end of the phone was surprised ... it was also that of what sounded like a young male teenager.
“Sofia? You don’t sound like a girl.”
Dallas exchanged a look with his flight engineer, who ignored the skeptical pilot.
“Yes ... SOFIA ... the Stratospheric Observatory for Infrared Astronomy. The original investigation called for Bok globule measurements, but I’m calling to report a variance.”
The voice on the phone dropped an octave lower before responding.
“Of course, of course, thanks for checking with me ... I changed my mind ... now I’m researching a Bracewell probe.”
Dallas took over the communication, cutting to the chase.
“This is Captain Dallas Ooguri ... what the fuck is a Bracewell probe?”
“Don’t you know ... Professor Bracewell? Stanford 1960 ... alien life masquerading as an object, observing other solar systems. The object I’ve asked you to contact has non-gravitational acceleration. It’s the first known interstellar object we’ve observed.”
Ooguri muted the call to engage his flight engineer.
“Wow, you are good ... really good ... except you hired a kid to prank me.”
The Captain decided to play the ruse out and engaged “Dr. Hans Mauer” further.
“So, did you probe the alien? Did you get your answer back?”
“No, of course not ... I’m not searching for extra terrestrial intelligence, like SETI ... I’m team METI.”
“What the fuck is METI?”
“I sent it a message ... the extra-terrestrial probe. Look, that’s why it’s disguised ... it’s not going to respond to us ... we’re not ready. I’m making sure we’re ready for the next one. When I land humans on the next probe, I want to make sure they’re safe ... so I can explore what’s inside. If it has a magnetic field like a magnetar, my explorers will be in big trouble.”
“Doctor, asteroids don’t have magnetic fields ... even if they had one their cores would have turned solid millions of years ago.”
“It’s a probe, not an asteroid ... this is different. My message was simple ... don’t send a probe that has a greater magnetic field than 1000 times our own on Earth ... otherwise our astronauts will have their atoms pulled apart like a stretched rubber band ... they’ll dissolve.”
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Two days later Dallas Ooguri found himself meeting “Dr. Hans Mauer” in person. Not in Germany however, rather it was in the Southern California town next to Hermosa Beach ... Manhattan Beach. Dallas was accompanying the local CONR major, who was pissy and uptight. The Continental U.S. NORAD Region officer hated pranks ... hated dealing with tracking Santa Claus, for that matter.
A knock on the door of a modest bungalow near Polliwog Park revealed a man in his late 30’s. He responded to the badges presented to him with a blank stare. The CONR major took the lead.
“Dr. Hans Mauer? Or should I say, Mr. Garinger? I’m with NORAD ... Continental U.S. to be more specific. We have a few questions for you.”
The homeowner sighed and opened the door for the visitors. He called to a back room with a practiced manner.
“Rudy ... can you please come here?”
The thirteen-year-old boy that emerged caught both Dallas and the major by surprise. Rudolph Garinger was small for his age but seemed to be in his element, taking pride in all the attention to his efforts. After introductions, the major wasted no time in getting to his questions while his team began to gather up all the electronic devices in the house.
“Rudy, why’d you do it? That was someone else’s project you hijacked. We were over-subscribed for time on this plane by more than 3:1. The investigations have people funding them, paying for GTO.”
Rudy was all ears, more fascinated than chastised.
“GTO?”
“Guaranteed time observations. You took away from Dr. Mauer’s investigation.”
Rudy frowned, as though he’d been insulted by an unworthy comparison.
“Does he know this is the first interstellar object we’ve been able to observe?”
Dallas tried to lighten the tone of the questioning with an interjection.
“They even have a name for it ... `Oumuamua ... the first visitor from afar.”
“Mister Ooguri, I’m gonna be ready for the second one ... what’s the word for that?”
Before Dallas could reply he was gently nudged by his eight-year-old son, Bogota, who’d accompanied his father to meet the teenage hacker. The young Bogota Ooguri spoke directly to Rudy.
“I looked it up ... something in Hawaiian. Probably `Oukualuakualua.”
Dallas sent his son to follow Rudy into another room, anticipating the unpleasant conversation that was about to happen with Mr. Garinger. The NORAD major presented a piece of paper to Rudy’s father.
“Mr. Garinger, your son hacked both an observatory and NASA property. In fact he used a school field trip to deposit transceiver equipment on a 747, which is nothing short of espionage.”
Rudy’s father nodded but was more focused on the piece of paper, which looked to be an extensive bill.
“He’s just a kid ... you’re not serious are you?”
“Normally our non-NASA partners cover us at $1 million per night, but your son’s project only took up one of the 5 investigations that night ... I’m sure Dr. Mauer would love to get back to having us measure those Bok globules. Let’s say $200,000 and call it even.”
“Call it even? I don’t care what you call it, I don’t have those kind of funds.”
Dallas pulled the NORAD major aside for a private chat.
“Hey, maybe we don’t want to broadcast out that a 13-year-old hacked both Haleakala and a 747 flown by NASA pilots ... how about we bring him in?”
“Space Force? No fuckin’ way ... kid’s a hand grenade with a shaky pin.”
“I was thinking maybe OSIRIS-REx ... let me speak with him for a minute ... see if he goes for this.”
Bogota was looking over the communications gear Rudy Garinger had used to broadcast his message to `Oumuamua. The Breakthrough Listen project had tried to communicate at a much lower frequency but Garinger with great difficulty was able to process his own message at 90 Ghz. When Dallas Ooguri entered the basement the young Garinger dropped his show and tell demo and made a beeline for the NASA pilot with one burning question he needed to have answered.
“Do you really think we’re alone?”
Dallas Ooguri was surprised by the abrupt challenge but still impressed. Rudy’s unwavering self confidence seemed to have a gravitational force of its own, ready to pull those he engaged with into a new orbit ... his orbit ... despite his age and size.
“Kid, I don’t know ... what I do know is that it’s gonna cost a lot of money to find out. You make enough, you can get your own equipment ... your own astronauts for the next alien probe. You want to know what I’d do if I were you?”
“I know, I know ... stay in school ... don’t hack secure government computers.”
“Well, yeah ... but you want to make money and explore space ... then, maybe you’ll find things like this.”
Dallas pulled out a smooth shiny object in his hand ... greenish yellow crystals of olivine embedded in nickel-iron metal.
Rudy Garinger’s jaw dropped, enthralled despite his default superior demeanor.
“Is it an alien artifact?”
“No ... it’s a pallasite ... from the Esquel meteorite ... landed in a Patagonian town in Argentina. Maybe you’d be interested in joining up with us ... there’s a program called OSIRIS-REx ... we’re exploring asteroids. We’re gonna orbit one ... should land our first sample in about 3 years. You learn how to do it and then go off on your own someday. So you’ll be ready for when the next alien probe shows up. What do you think?”
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Part 1
“Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark ... there is no hint that help will come from somewhere else to save us from ourselves.”
Carl Sagan
