Second Contact, page 60
part #2 of Not Alone Series
“You would’ve guessed Clark,” Dan said, preempting a familiar punchline.
Henry shook his head and briefly glanced at Clark. “No offence,” he laughed before turning back to Dan, “but not this time.”
When Dan asked about Henry’s absence at the drive-in earlier in the day, Henry explained it by saying that he couldn’t have faced being out there if things went sour given that he would have been physically unable to step in.
“I couldn’t even face watching it live on TV,” he said. “I was in the grill, fifty feet away, but I knew less about what was going on out there than pretty much anyone else in the world.”
Henry didn’t say any of this with a smile on his face and Dan couldn’t imagine the helplessness he must have felt at the time, but Clark responded with a light-hearted comment: “You want to talk about being out there and being physically unable to step in when things went sour? Try being the guy frozen to the spot on the wrong side of the forcefield!”
This re-lifted the mood just in time for Phil to return with a tray carrying five full pint glasses.
Clark immediately lifted his in the air. “To Dan.”
“To everyone who played a part,” Dan said, slightly embarrassed by the focused attention.
Everyone raised their glasses.
“But especially Dan,” Mr Byrd added in his usual warm tone.
Dan laughed along with everyone else; he would settle for that.
THREE DAYS LATER
C plus 47
McCarthy Residence
Birchwood, Colorado
Cities around the globe ground to a halt for a refreshingly positive reason in the 72 hours after what was already being called Contact Day, with impromptu celebrations revelling in the fact that the world wasn’t going to be destroyed by an enormous comet often turning into multi-night street parties.
There was no more looting, and familiar analysts returned to the airwaves to discuss the immediate economic boom caused by “the return of long-term thinking.” The shock of the comet’s initial discovery had led to untold and unprecedented economic issues from which it would take years of concerted effort to fully recover, but day-to-day consumer decisions had already returned to something close to normal.
“Expect a spike in births right around nine months from now,” one analyst said, moving on to other societal upshots, “and expect Daniel to make a strong comeback in the annual baby-name rankings.”
Emma was still under observation at the hospital despite her repeated insistence that she was fit to go home. Dan had visited her again on each of the last three days and had stopped by at Timo’s hospital on one of those occasions for a second visit. Timo was looking at a long stay, his doctors confirmed; one measured in months rather than weeks, for sure. His spirits remained high, however, and he called Dan every few hours to discuss all kinds of things that cropped up in his restless mind.
Trey Myers also called Dan, telling him there were no hard feelings about the hoax and going so far as to say that he was glad Dan had kept him out of it. Dan cared about Trey’s feelings regarding the hoax more than anyone else’s other than Henry’s — Trey had been extremely close to the group, the rest of whom all knew the whole story — so this call came as a great source of relief.
The other individual who called Dan was Il Diavolo’s true discoverer, Alessandro Bonucci. A friend who Dan wished he saw more of, Alessandro was the only person to directly thank him for what he had done. This meant a lot, and Dan once again expressed his gratitude for the role Alessandro had played in discovering the comet so quickly and also in keeping it quiet for the greater good while potential solutions were sought. Dan also expressed his hope of visiting the Cavalieri observatory again sometime soon and was delighted to hear that Alessandro would be coming in the opposite direction to oversee some redevelopment work at the new Fiore Frontiere headquarters in Colorado Springs while Timo was unfortunately unable to do so himself.
Louisa Conte and Francesco Abate, Alessandro’s colleagues who had taken credit for the discovery with his enthusiastic blessing, didn’t call Dan but did issue a joint statement to convey their delight that the comet no longer posed a direct threat to Earth. Both thanked the media for respecting their privacy and stated their desire to return to something approaching professional normality as soon as possible.
The world at large was almost wholly supportive of Dan, to the extent that his main concern was no longer of being resented but rather of being held up by some as the messianic saviour of humanity. The iconic image of Dan standing alone at the drive-in, sporting a ‘Now Now Now’ T-shirt as he stared down the Messengers among a parted sea of humanity, was certainly one which lent itself well to such narratives; as, of course, did the bottom-line fact that Dan had quite literally acted as a conduit for beings from another world who ultimately acted to save Earth at his personal urging.
Clark told Dan that this kind of stuff would die down, and Dan could only hope he was right.
The only other person whose view Dan really cared about in a personal sense was Billy Kendrick. Although Billy hadn’t called and Dan didn’t want to reach out until things at home returned to something closer to normal, the tone of Billy’s comments on his live podcast recordings left little doubt that he, like most, bore no resentment towards Dan.
During one call-in segment, Billy directly defended Dan against a caller who argued that he didn’t deserve any accolades and that the Messengers didn’t deserve any thanks given that they had taken out DS-1 in the first place.
“First of all, Dan’s not asking for any accolades,” Billy said. “And yeah, fine, maybe it is reasonable to say that we might have had a small chance to deflect Conte-Abate ourselves if the Messengers hadn’t destroyed DS-1 last year. But let’s not forget that there wouldn’t have even been a DS-1 if Dan hadn’t done the right thing when he found that folder and leaked those files to the public. Tell me, caller, would you have taken that risk?”
“Uh, well…”
“Exactly,” Billy said. “It’s easier said than done, and you can’t even say you would have done it.”
Billy also talked extensively of how, in his view, humanity had been “positively humbled, once and for all,” by the remarkable events of Contact Day. He expressed hope that the Messengers’ planet-saving intervention would prove a watershed moment to usher in a more rational era, making the case in his typically passionate manner.
“They could have flattened us at any moment and they could have saved us at any moment,” he went on. “And if that’s not humbling, I don’t know what is. An important point I want to make to qualify this is that the past few weeks have also shown us that nihilism can be just as bad and just as dangerous as hubris. To that end, I’d encourage every self-loathing human being out there to bear in mind that an advanced race just deemed us worthy of salvation. We shouldn’t need that kind of external validation, but for those of us who do… well, there it is.”
Dan agreed with everything Billy said, but the part he cared about most was definitely Billy’s repeatedly expressed understanding of why Dan had felt the need to keep the reality of Richard Walker’s hoax in the shadows.
And on the subject of Richard Walker, one of the main media stories of the last few days had revolved around Joe Crabbe’s discovery of his body during a worried visit to his isolated and undisclosed home. For reasons Dan only partially understood, Crabbe, the executor of Walker’s will, exercised great discretion in announcing the funeral arrangements without publicly revealing where the controversial man had been living. The coroners knew, of course; but given that discretion was a central part of their job, there was no chance of the location being leaked to the press.
Henry McCarthy caught Dan off guard with a passing comment that Stevenson Farm was up for sale — Crabbe wasted no time on that front, either — and even suggested that it might make a nice place for him and Emma. Dan, deciding there was nothing for anyone to gain from his sharing of Walker’s prior address, kept the straightest face he could while answering that they weren’t looking for anywhere right now.
The funeral was set for Monday of the next week, and Dan McCarthy had been quite firmly encouraged to attend. This encouragement came from an office no lower than that of President Slater, who deemed it an excellent opportunity to draw a decisive line under the unfortunate business of the IDA hoax.
Dan agreed to make an appearance, but he wasn’t exactly counting down the days with glee.
ONE WEEK LATER
C plus 48
Birkdale Cemetery
Colorado Springs, Colorado
When the day of Richard Walker’s funeral arrived, Clark accompanied Dan in Emma’s continued absence. She was now home, at least, but she remained under strict instructions to stay there and avoid any stressful situations.
For Dan, nervously anticipating the funeral had largely ruined what should have been a pleasant enough week. Societally, things were edging ever closer back to normal, but he was too preoccupied with a blunt and unfocused kind of trepidation to pay much attention to any of that. Emma and Tara both tried to tell him that it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought, with Tara in particular telling him it was a classic case of building something up into a massive challenge when in reality he would get there and realise immediately that he’d been worrying about nothing.
Dan didn’t even know what he was worrying about, he just didn’t really want to go.
Clark tried the opposite tack, telling Dan to man up and accept the obligation that had fallen upon him. Though no fan of President Slater, he said that she was right about presenting a united front at the funeral being the best way to draw a line under everything, and told Dan that it was going to happen whether or not he worried about it in the meantime.
Clark worked all day on each of the four days prior to the funeral, once again preferring to be out in the world doing something useful over battling his own thoughts at home. He was more recognised than ever following his part in the remarkable Contact Day scenes at the drive-in, but this didn’t bring any problems to his colleagues and his work ethic and willingness to do undesirable tasks made him welcome at the precinct whenever he was able to help out.
And sure enough, Tara’s prediction for the funeral proved well founded; within minutes of stepping out of the car and walking a media gauntlet to reach the relatively quiet area where Walker would be buried, Dan quickly realised that he really had been building it all up into something difficult for no good reason.
Security was off the charts at the service, largely due to the presence of President Slater, who approached Dan as soon as she saw him. She thanked him for coming and made sure to stand next to him long enough for some photographs to be taken. Dan didn’t realise what was going on at first but it quickly became apparent that a queue was forming among those with a similar idea. Most were politicians Dan recognised but wouldn’t have been able to name, and he had no interest in helping any of them out with a photo op in any circumstance, let alone at a funeral.
“It’s like you’re the widow or something,” Clark whispered as Slater moved away to mingle. “Everyone wants to come over and talk to you. The difference is, none of them are even pretending to care about the dead guy.”
Dan scanned the area. Away from the publicity hounds, he saw some groups of more appropriately behaved attendees, some of whom looked as though they could be classified as genuine mourners. It surprised him slightly to see William Godfrey standing near the graveside in quiet conversation with the reverend. With Clark in tow, Dan walked over and stood at a short but respectful distance until Godfrey finished talking and turned to see them.
“Ah! Long time no see, Mr McCarthy,” he said, his volume low and his tone understated. “A terrible business, isn’t it? And it certainly seems to have brought the cockroaches out from under their rocks.”
“What happens next?” Dan asked, with little patience for small talk. “Are you going to disband the GSC? Relaunch? Quit?”
Godfrey blew air from his lips and spoke candidly: “Well, we certainly won’t be relaunching. Truth be told, I expect to be back in my old job this time next year. I think the party’s choice of Diane Logan to replace Cole was a transparent and frankly desperate invitation for me to ride in on my white horse and get back behind the wheel. How about you? With all of this hero worship, have you ever thought about politics?”
“You mean positively?” Dan asked.
Godfrey let out a slow and refined laugh. “All I’m saying is: you would win. What with your name on the ballot and with the campaign advisor you’d have at your side, you could hardly lose if you tried.”
Dan shook his head. “The only way to win is to not play. If someone like Timo or Billy Kendrick ever ran for anything, I’d endorse them. But that stuff’s not for me.”
“Suit yourself,” Godfrey said, getting ready to move to his allocated spot for the service. “But I have to tell you: I can’t pretend I wasn’t a little jealous that you were the contactee they chose. I wouldn’t have minded if real life was like the old ‘take me to your leader’ movies I grew up with, but I suppose I ought to look on the bright side… at least it wasn’t Slater!”
Neither Godfrey nor any other public figures spoke during the low-key graveside service which followed, and Walker had no immediate family members to share their memories. The presence of certain politicians who had been vocal opponents of Walker long before the IDA leak didn’t sit well with Dan, who had known the man well enough to know that he would have welcomed their presence at his funeral about as keenly as he would have welcomed a Chinese flag on Mars.
The crocodile tears shed by the most shameless among them got under Dan’s skin and sent his thoughts in the morbid direction of his own hopefully distant funeral. He pictured the worst people he could think of — the likes of the former Daily Chat editor and muckraker extraordinaire Jan Gellar, as well as the even more repugnant Jack Neal — and shook his head at the thought of them putting on their saddest faces for the cameras and pretending they hadn’t done everything they could to make his life hell when it suited their agendas.
Clark nudged Dan gently in the arm, encouraging him to stop shaking his head. Dan was glad of the notice, having not realised he was doing it.
In any case, while Dan considered Richard Walker in far from heroic terms, he held him in far higher esteem than the Gellars and Neals of the world. Since learning of the hoax and particularly since conversing with Walker far more recently, Dan had come to see that the man was not the comic-book villain some had painted him as. Whatever the merits of his beliefs and actions, there was no denying that Walker had lived and died a patriot and had held true to his convictions in a manner positively alien to the multitude of career-driven politicians whose views changed with the wind. More than anything else, however, Dan didn’t have to agree with Walker’s motives or tactics to recognise that he had selflessly chosen a difficult and reputationally ruinous course of action for reasons he believed in.
As the reverend neared the end of his short service, he introduced a quote on this very subject; one first uttered by Hans Kloster and quoted by Walker himself midway through his remarkably executed long con:
“Forget what the onlookers think, for a man’s thoughts die with him. Remember instead that the children of tomorrow will view today with the clarity of hindsight. All lies will be revealed and all truths will emerge. So jettison your preoccupations with the respect of your peers in favour of a promise to do right by generations unborn. The present has passed before we can touch it, but the future is ours to shape. Serve posterity, not power, and hold legacy before ego.”
Even without the contextual relevance, this was a powerful quote. It drew gentle nods from several elderly mourners who had arrived together in full uniform and laid a memorial wreath far less decadent and far more dignified than the ostentatious examples placed by some of the more image-conscious attendees.
Dan imagined that some of these men quite likely approved in hindsight of Walker’s machiavellian plan to protect the country’s well-earned national security advantage via a fabricated extraterrestrial scare. He also imagined that some of them definitely wouldn’t have approved, but that all of them would have warm memories of Walker as a younger man full of hopes and dreams for the future.
Dan’s eyes then moved along the line of mourners until they rested upon the unexpected sight of Joe Crabbe fighting back tears, a spectacle which left him unexpectedly moved.
Crabbe, known to most as a shock-jock and reviled as a hate merchant by those with a penchant for stronger vocabulary, was a man widely and wildly disliked. He had certainly been no friend of Dan’s at any point, but the sight of him mourning Walker reminded Dan that, deep down, everyone felt the same things; Crabbe had a family, he had friends, and he had a heart. He was just as mortal and as vulnerable as everyone else who had turned out, despite the view they all had of him.
When the short ceremony was over, Dan approached Crabbe and extended his hand. “No hard feelings.”
Crabbe tilted his head back slightly, weighing up the situation, then eventually shook Dan’s hand. “You’re a stand-up guy, McCarthy,” he said. “I can see why Richard chose you for the whole fake leak thing… that’s exactly what he needed. Whatever anyone else thinks of him, I know he was doing what he thought was right. But I can also see that you were doing the same, and I’m not too big a man to say I’m sorry for some of the things I’ve said.”
