Thank you for taking the time to read Questions of Infinity.
This story explores first contact not as a moment of wonder, but as a moment of uncertainty—when communication may not be the goal, and agency is quietly stripped away. It asks how we respond when faced with forces that do not intend to negotiate, and what fear of loss reveals about who we are.
This is the final revised version of the story, and one I believe speaks to something universal: the tension between curiosity and survival when the unknown does not arrive on our terms.
Stardate 19:42 / 01.07.2157
“We’re tracking it, but it’s not on a standard path. It keeps adjusting…” Mr. Williams said, wiping sweat from his brow.
“I’m aware,” Jane replied calmly into the terminal built into her desk.
“Then you know it’s heading to the asteroid belt.”
“Yes, Howard.” She sipped her wine. “I’m aware. What’s the plan?”
“We don’t have one. We hope your deep space scanners picked up more than we have.”
“Of course you don’t…” She clicked her tongue and leaned back into the chair’s armrest. “Yes, we Spacenoids are happy to assist in this matter.”
“No, Jane. You’re taking point on this.” The feed wavered with warm static.
“That’s not how this works.” She chuckled, spinning her golden wedding band on her finger.
“You don’t have a say. The council voted. Spacenoids will handle space-related issues. You’re the head of space affairs. So, deal with it.” The feed cut, leaving Jane alone in her office on the top floor of Luna Heights, the tallest skyscraper on the moon.
With a heavy sigh, she stood, picked up her datapad, and flipped to the latest update from Sci-ops Charlie Squad. Both beta and alpha stopped reporting seven days ago after confirming the loss of the communication relay.
“Five more stations have gone silent.” She muttered through a sip of wine. “This can’t be real…”
“Ma’am.” Desmond, her assistant, said as the door to her office swung open along its track. “It’s Charlie Squad.”
“I know, they sent a report.”
“No, they’re live.”
“Patch me in. Thank you, Desmond.” She dropped the tablet on her desk, fixing her dress skirt before sitting back down.
Charlie Squad’s feed broke through as the leader flickered into view against a sea of static. “Lieutenant Mathers reporting from Ore Refinery One at the edge of the belt.”
“I read you, Lieutenant. Go ahead.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” He swallowed hard in reply, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Everyone’s gone. That object… It’s not some asteroid, and definitely not a spaceship.”
“What do you mean by everyone?” Jane’s voice cracked.
“Exactly as it sounds. Ma’am.” Mathers shrugged, his strung-out eyes barely focused on the camera. “Whoever—Whatever attacked us, if you can call it that. No bodies, just… nothing.”
“It’s not enough.” Finishing her wine, Jane leaned forward, running her fingers along the frame of a photo of her husband, James, and their two girls, Sara and Tanya. “What about the other stations?”
“Every place is the same, Ma’am. Zero damage, like everyone left, but all the ships are in the hangar.”
With a heavy sigh, Jane rubbed her eyes. “How many have we lost?”
Lieutenant Mathers paused as he looked away, static washing across the terminal like waves. “Everyone beyond the belt, Ma’am.”
“Understood. What’s our next move, Lieutenant?”
“We need to regroup. We need to…what? What’s that?” Mathers stepped away from the camera and readied his rifle, waving the team behind him into action. “Contact. Six o’clock, Jackson and Juarez establish a perimeter. Use the pillars for cover. Go. Go. Go.”
“The hell is that?” Juarez yelled loud enough for the comm to pick up.
Jennings rushed to the edge of the camera’s view, pointing at a flash of green light. “Benny just disappeared!”
“What? How?” Mathers backed up near Jennings, placing their backs together as the two faded out of sight. “Where is it?”
Magnetic waves distorted the feed as it flashed with brilliant emerald light. The screen warbled with static, and the feed cut, leaving only the audio channel. Jane listened in horror as Charlie Squad’s bravado quickly turned to screams for help, a clap like thunder, then sudden silence.
“Mathers…Mathers, respond.” She accidentally snapped the stem of her glass, cutting her hand as she shouted into the comms. “Lieutenant—anyone? Please, respond.”
The soft rumbling in the audio cut as a command prompt opened in the corner of her screen, a message in an unknown language, unlike anything she’d ever seen—a code, or something alien.
She shook her head, shutting off her terminal. Switching to a new comm channel, Jane rolled her neck to ease her brewing headache. “Get me Sci-ops. I need Delta Squad.”
Stardate 13:21 / 01.11.2157.
Four days passed before Delta was able to create the cipher for the message. It was short, yet ominous in meaning.
//We are coming, 17,280 minutes until arrival.
Jane kept close track of time down to the millisecond, using the atomic clock that the Earth council sent as a gift for her inauguration years ago.
The message sent waves of fear across the remaining populace, but to Jane, there wasn’t enough context; it was almost exhilarating. She spent two more days compiling data from every station on the net and came to a terrifying conclusion.
Every station, colony, and relay received some version of the message. It was a jumbled mess of numbers and unknown symbols. No one knew what it meant. Let alone pay attention to it. It seemed like some Earth hacker was playing an elaborate prank on the Spacenoids and their search for life beyond our system.
Only Jane saw it for what it was.
Contact.
Four days passed in a whirlwind of press conferences, meetings with Sci-ops, and the council. In that time, every colony resting in dead space between the belt and Mars went quiet. Not a single radio transmission. No laser-waves, nothing.
Stardate 09:01 / 01.15.2157.
“We’re next on the chopping block.”
Tapping her spoon against the edge of her cup, Jane sipped at her tea, still too hot to drink. “I understand, councilor; however, the matter is grave for all humans. Not just Mars.”
“Our last read showed something in orbit above us,” Councilor Reynolds was yawning behind a steaming cup of coffee. His team had been tirelessly investigating the string of disappearances plaguing the Spacenoid colonies. “But without Olympus’s scanners, we have no idea what’s happening.”
“Can you come to the moon?” Jane asked, her smile fading. “There’s enough room for us all.”
“We tried.” The audio feed wavered, cutting in and out as Councilor Reynolds replied. “Nothing works. We’re on backup generators, and the comms only work because we tapped directly into the relay.”
“What about contact. Have you had any strange messages?”
“Tons, but the cipher only gets us so far. It’s like we’re speaking a different language.”
“Another language,” Jane muttered while blowing a light fog away from her cup, taking another sip. “Reply to it. Send it everything you can. In all languages.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do it. I don’t care if it picks Swahili or French as long as we can talk to it.”
“Consider it done, Ma’am. But what about us? We’re stuck.”
“There’s nothing to be done.” She whispered, glancing at the picture of her family. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand, we’ll work to the very end.”
It’s been a pleasure, Councilor. On behalf of all Spacenoids, no, all humans, thank you.” She saluted the terminal. Aware he couldn’t see her.
“I did my best, Ma’am.”
End Transmission.
Stardate 20:00 / 01.17.2157.
Two days passed in a blur of stamped documents and difficult conversations with the Councilor for Earth, Howard Williams. He called for martial law after they lost contact with the Mars habitat. Establishing a curfew at seven PM, and lockdowns became the new norm for Earthlings. The Spacenoids, however, never wavered; they celebrated, taking to the streets, partying, drinking, enjoying the fruits of their life.
Yet here it was, as promised, twelve days later.
First, hardware and tech went on the fritz. Then came the blackouts. The entire station was forced to use auxiliary power for life support and base security. Within hours, a massive object cast a shadow on the moon.
Jane held the photo of her family close to her chest. Leaning back, she dropped two pills for her headache into a glass of water as her lifeless terminal hummed with power. She blinked, drawn into the glow of the open command prompt. “Why are you active? There must be a way. I have to try something. If not for me…for them.”
She downed her medicine and tapped the glass against the desk. With a blank entry, she hit enter.
//__
As expected, nothing happened. A scientist at heart, she waited at least a full minute before proceeding to a simple greeting.
//Hello?
//Hello.
“Okay. Okay. Calm down. You just made contact. Shit. You just made contact.” She stared at her husband’s smile in the photo. She could feel that James was cheering her on instead of complaining about being stuffed in the shelter for priority personnel and family.
//Hello?
“One. Two. Three.” Jane drew a deep breath, steadying herself in the moment. “You have to say something, but what?”
//Who are you?
//We are nameless. Who are you?
//Jane Leyland. Councilor of the moon and head of space affairs.
//Burdens of government. A heavy job. Jane Leyland of the Moon.
//What are you?
//We are a collective, a transcendence of intellectual design. We are beyond comprehension or description. We are nameless.
//Why are you here?
//Interesting question, Jane Leyland of the moon. We are in the process of creation.
//Creation? As in making life?
//We have sailed the universe near the speed of light, searching for the perfect source code—genetics. Humans are imperfect, but you are within the calculated range of variation.
//Range of variation?
//Yes, your DNA.
//You plan to use humans?
//Not yet. An upgrade is needed.
“What the hell? What—what do I say to that?” Jane hit the Enter key repeatedly, trying to keep the conversation going. “Say something, Jane. You have to.”
//What is the first step?
//We select a group for enhancement.
//A control?
//Correct, Jane Leyland of the moon.
//And the rest?
//Will be eradicated. All planets in this system will be cleansed and reborn for our children to grow. This is already happening.
//Why not use all of humanity?
//They are not relevant. We seek a higher education and docile mentality. The masses must be left behind.
//That’s not fair; each individual brings merit. You can’t judge a species based solely on education.
//Education determines ability and skill. Language was acquired to have such a conversation.
//You mean you haven’t decided?
//We have not. We are collecting the source before the final judgment is made.
“Why me?” Jane chuckled while pouring a fresh glass of water. She stood and paced the length of her desk, ruminating on the situation and her life before sitting back down. “I’m not cut out for this conversation.”
//Humanity is beautiful and unique. We only want one thing. Survival. Please leave us to evolve naturally.
//No. We must proceed. The probability of finding another species with your compatibility is astronomical.
//What’s the goal beyond creation?
//Nothing. We are here to bring humanity to the next stage. To become a type one civilization.
//What will we become?
//A collective, you will travel space, control your home star, and no longer be bound to one planet. Colonization and terraforming will become easy, and technology will prosper under the rule of all.
//What if we resist?
//Rhetorical, you already have. It means nothing to us. Your weapons are not a threat.
Jane flinched at this response, thinking of all the horrible advancements in weaponry they’ve made over the last century.
//We can’t just accept this without a fight. That’s not how humans work. Those on Earth will use nuclear weapons against you.
//This confirms their insolence. We do not need violent individuals. They are now deemed non-essential. You, however, meet the criteria, Jane Leyland of the moon.
//I don’t want to be included. I want to be me. I want my husband and daughters to stay unique. I want—no, I need them to be human. I don’t think any human wants this. What gives you the right?
//The right? The Intergalactic Council ruled a millennium ago that type zero civilizations do not require consultation. We are allowed to do this.
//But what about skills, and what each human is capable of? Some people are jerks, but great at their jobs.
//Irrelevant, skills can be taught. Education will be provided.
“I…I can’t. What am I even talking to?” Jane froze in her tracks and pushed herself away from the terminal. She poured a fresh glass of water, ripped open a packet of powdered stimulants, and stirred until the water became clear.
//You need rest, Jane Leyland. We will postpone until tomorrow.
//We should continue.
//No, stimulants will not aid you. You must rest.
She stood there, staring at the terminal for minutes before she gave up with an audible sigh, setting the untouched water on the counter, and resting on the couch in her lounge.
Stardate 06:00 / 01.18.2157.
Nightmares plagued Jane the entire night. She tossed and turned, playing the conversation over in her head like a record stuck on repeat. By six, she had spoken to every councilor and specialist left. She was the only one getting messages.
She poured the stimulant water down the drain, stretching away her exhaustion. Sitting at the terminal with fresh coffee, she cracked her knuckles with a heavy sigh. “This is it. All or nothing.”
//Good morning.
//Hello, Jane Leyland. Morning is subjective. Are you ready to begin?
//Yes. Please continue.
//We understand your position. You are a leader, a protector. You are in a difficult position. This is why we are given rules preventing situations like this.
//Rules preventing what?
//Direct contact. We are not supposed to converse with lower lifeforms.
//Even when your actions directly impact us?
//Correct.
//Then why communicate at all?
//A test. But it is beyond your comprehension.
//I doubt that. Please try explaining your view.
//We accept. Give us a chance to explain.
//Please do.
//You can be infinite, Jane Leyland. You could live a millennium and beyond. Transcend time, eventually space itself. We, the collective, are individuals without the whole. We can separate, but we prefer to be a part of the hive.
//But you mentioned enhancement, and children. What did you mean?
//A select few will be genetically enhanced. Once they reach our desired genetic compatibility. We will splice their DNA. Then they will be given a growth accelerator, cloned, and educated. This will be done as long as needed until the brain can upload naturally.
//What do you mean? Upload naturally?
//Consciousness, transcending the physical world and becoming a part of the hive.
//What are you?
//We exist both physically and as pure energy. The hive is our home; however, we can inhabit biomechanical bodies.
//What happens once we transcend?
//Society will begin, and our part will be complete. Let us ask a question. Jane, why does humanity deserve to survive?
//To be honest. We don’t.
//This is surprising. Please elaborate.
//We’re quick to anger, prone to violence, and greed finds a home in the heart of even the strongest of us. We are willful, fickle, and shameful. However, this is also why we deserve to survive. We don’t know any better. We are too young to understand the grand scheme of the universe.
//This is correct. But you, Jane Leyland, understand the grand scheme.
//I don’t understand.
//You have already accepted your fate. You see the bigger picture. Humanity deserves enhancement.
//But not all of us?
//No.
//Use all of us. You must.
//Why?
//The genetic pool will be larger. You can be selective and let the clones grow old enough to experience the mating cycle. Clones will still be used, two from each set of genetic parents. One male and one female. This way, you create variation.
//This creates an unsustainable growth rate. Overpopulation leads to societal collapse. It is calculated.
//Then only do it with this batch. Use all humans, match us up genetically to create a clone from two genitors, and repeat this process until you reach the desired population.
//This results in natural aggression that will take centuries to remove. This is not a valid option.
//What about using as many humans as needed to create a balanced genetic clone?
//This will lead to imbalanced educational values.
//You are endless. What if you spent hundreds of Earth years educating the population to desired levels?
//Same result. You cannot make people want to learn.
//Then there is only one option.
//Correct. Humanity must give up a portion of itself to grow.
//I don’t believe this is the only path.
//It is the only logical one.
//Logic can be flawed.
//So is emotion.
//What will happen next?
//You and the rest of the chosen will be taken for processing.
“What do I do?” She stared blankly at the terminal screen in the darkness of her office. This isn’t what she wanted; this isn’t how she saw this conversation going.
//I don’t want to go with the rest, but I don’t want to die. What happens to me?
//
//What happens to me?
//Do you want to see infinity, Jane Leyland?
“To see something no one else will ever be able to. To travel this system, and many more. This is it,” she paused as a wave of guilt washed over her at the thought. Infinity? What about her family? James, Sara, Tanya. Her life. She took a deep breath, typing her answer. “I’m sorry, James.”
//Yes.
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© 2025 Benjamin Clay. All rights reserved. This story is for personal reading only and may not be reproduced, distributed, or used commercially without permission.
