Bad News from Ganymede

A terrible ring shook the observatory and I was jolted back into consciousness. I had about 1.3 seconds to feel confused and try to remember who I was before the ring came again.

RIIIIING!

It was the telephone. I picked up before it rang again.

”Wilson,” the voice on the other end said, “I say, Wilson. Have you been sleeping at your desk again?"

"No, sir,” I said, “I was in the bathroom.” I managed to pick up quick. Or maybe not? I remember a long dream about ringing noises, I think I was in a well…

”Well, what is the status on the latest signal?"

"I -uhm -it’s good?"

"What do you mean it’s good, Wilson? It’s bad. I’ve been doing this for the past forty years and I can tell you right now, I’ve never seen anything this bad in my entire career."

"Yes, sir. I know."

"Wilson,” he paused for a second, coughing, “Wilson, admit it. You! Haven’t! Seen! The latest signal!”

I moved my head away from the phone when he was screaming. And then I said “No, sir. I’m sorry. I was sleeping at my desk again.” Sometimes, it is best to admit and face the music.

There was silence for a little bit. And then “Ugh, fine, I understand. I was young once too, you know."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Well, so you better look at the signal record. It’s from Ganymede. And it’s bad."

"Sir, but what’s -uhm -what could possibly be so bad, coming from Ganymede? It’s a remote place. It’s a piece of dead rock. What about it could upset you so much?"

"Me?” he screamed and had to take a break coughing. Then he started again more softly, “It’s not about me, Wilson. It’s about all of us. It’s bad news for all of us."

"Well, what is it, sir?"

"It’s about the pathogen,” he coughed a few times, “The signal is characteristic of a pathogen. A very bad one,” more coughing, “One that can travel across the vast cold space all the way to Earth."

"But what do you mean it’s characteristic of a pathogen, sir? What kind of signal are you talking about, sir?"

"Hush, can you hear, Wilson? It’s the swallows outside the window. They’re really loud tonight. I think they’re dying. From the pathogen, Wilson.”

I looked outside the window. Moonlight was making the tree outside look pretty. There were no birds in it, I think. Then I looked at the clock, it was half way between 3 and 4 am. There were some overdue papers on my desk, and a pencil that needed sharpening. The signal terminal in the corner was printing its long strip of paper, sending it to the receptacle. It did that twenty-four-seven, humming gently as it did. “Well, sir,” I said, “We should keep our heads on straight. I mean -uhm, there must be something we can do."

"I’m afraid, Wilson,” he sounded really tired and small, as if he was stuck in a deep well, with just the phone to keep him company, “I’m afraid it’s too late."

"Sir, please calm down. Put the phone down, and I will call your wife."

"Karen? What do you need her for? What does she know about pathogens?"

"Sir, let me call your wife, it will be all right. You just need to rest, that’s all."

"Yes,” he said, “Perhaps my body can fight the infection if I rest. I have a very strong immune system, you know? I’ve been through cholera, did you know that, Wilson?"

"No sir, I did not know that. Sir, I’m going to hang up and call your wife right away.” And I did hang up. I waited for a second to see if I would start coughing or anything, half believing the old man. Then I was about to reach for the dial when the phone rang again. It was going to be a long night.

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk