Tessa stared at the colonel in horror. “So all this time I’ve thought I was a double agent working for Sarah Gregory, not only were you aware of my status, you actually orchestrated the entire thing.”
“Sorry, Major. But the AI recommended not telling you about our alien friends. So if we hadn’t pulled the strings we did, how else could we have gotten you to join us? Given your character, we were convinced that you’d never sell out, no matter what we offered.”
I suspected Tessa wanted to be furious about having been manipulated, but the alien-inspired circumstances seemed to give her pause.
I remained silent myself, reeling somewhat from this new information. I was drowning in revelations of an alien nature already. The last thing I needed were more revelations about Tessa. She had joined SAPS as a double agent?
What else hadn’t she told me about? I was hurt, even though my rational mind told me I was being ridiculous. Just because she hadn’t confided in me that she was secretly working for the US military—or at least believed she was—didn’t mean she didn’t love me. Or trust me. Keeping this kind of secret from even a spouse was simply a requirement of the job.
Still, more and more, while she may have been the love of my life, I was beginning to worry that I didn’t really know her at all.
“Then,” continued the colonel, staring into my eyes, “when you asked for a tour of our company, both AIs strongly recommended that I introduce you to Tessa. And do everything in my power to maximize the time you spent together.”
Tessa and I traded horrified glances.
“So your AI is like some kind of matchmaker?” I said angrily. “Is that it? Did it know we met for dinner several times after my visit?”
“It never said anything about any dinner meetings,” replied the colonel, “but of course it knew. It has access to the entire internet, and can break through security like it isn’t even there, hacking any Amazon or Facebook account, and absorbing all emails, texts, and phone conversations around the world every day. It basically knows everything. Why do you think its predictions are so accurate?”
“Did it manipulate us into falling in love?” I demanded.
Brad blinked in confusion. “What?” he said with a stunned expression. “You two are in love? Wow. Congratulations. The AI said nothing about that.”
After Chen, I had begun to assume that one simply had to look at us to guess our feelings for each other, but apparently not.
“So what did the AI say?” I pressed.
Brad sighed. “It predicted you’d eventually hire Tessa to help you investigate UAVs. And that many months later, you’d go on the Mark Russell Podcast and attempt to use yourself as bait.”
My eyes widened. Incredible. Its accuracy was astonishing.
How could the AI possibly guess I’d go on Russell’s program before I had even thought of it? It was uncanny. More than uncanny, scary.
I felt so manipulated. So violated.
The damn thing probably had guessed I’d fall in love with Tessa. It just hadn’t felt the need to share this information with Brad Schoenfeld.
I wouldn’t be surprised to learn it had wanted SAPS to hire her for this very reason.
“Did it recommend you let me do the podcast?” I asked.
The colonel nodded.
“And you don’t have any idea why it made any of these recommendations?”
“None. All we know is that its predictive algorithms concluded that there’s a greater than seventy percent chance that you—Jason Ramsey—will play an important role in the ultimate success or failure of the Galactic Federation’s mission. A pivotal role.”
I suddenly couldn’t breathe. Just when I finally thought it couldn’t get any stranger. But this was worse than getting strange. Worse than shocking. I was pivotal? What the hell did that mean? What could I possibly have to do with any of this?
It was all insane. I felt like Thomas Anderson, mild-mannered programmer at a faceless corporation, suddenly learning he was Neo—the one. But I didn’t want to be Neo. I had just wanted to learn the truth about alien visitations. I didn’t want to be a central figure in the whole thing.
The AI must have gotten it wrong. It was only seventy percent certain, after all, and not infallible. All I knew was a little quantum physics and how to tell a story. There was no way I could be destined to play a meaningful role.
“There has to be some mistake,” I protested to the alien. “Your mission is nothing less than saving twenty-three intelligent races from extinction. So if I’m pivotal to the success or failure of this mission, that would imply that my actions can either save or destroy trillions of sentient beings. Is that really what you’re telling me?”
“Well,” said Nari calmly, “the actual number across all twenty-three species is now down to just over a hundred billion. But that’s what our AI is predicting, yes. Not that it hasn’t been wrong before.”
“Well it’s wrong now!” I insisted.
“Maybe so,” said the alien. “But in this case its . . . intuition . . . does seem particularly strong. Which is why we sent a craft to dislodge you from the Gulfstream jet. You must know we wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”
I looked around the room wildly, and noted that Tessa appeared to be almost as shaken up as I was. For maybe ten seconds no one spoke, and for one of the few times in my life, I was having trouble finding the words to express how I was feeling.
“This is absurd,” I said, almost hysterically. “I’m an ex-physics grad student and ex-writer. I have no other skills. I have no special abilities, and I’m not heroic in any way. I’m reasonably bright, but there are millions brighter. I have no combat training or experience. I can’t defend myself from a mosquito attack.”
“Not true,” said Tessa. “You were amazing back at the warehouse. You made China’s most elite commandos look ordinary.”
“Just dumb luck,” I said. “Fueled by love, adrenaline, and panic.”
Nari sighed loudly. “Not so lucky as you might think,” he said.