Bullshit.
It is this friggin' wide.
And it's periodic.
Bull. Shit.
Show me.
Something terrestrial, gotta be.
Bouncing off the moon.
Gee. I never thought to check that.
Look at that slope, man.
You could ski down that thing.
It is drifting.
Look here. Zoom in. Zoom in.
See that variation?
And look. This gap here? This is where it stops, then starts over.
- It repeats? - Every 78 seconds.
The whole entire thing.
Three hours straight, and no end in sight.
It can't be.
It's gotta be something bouncing off the... off the...
It's not bouncing off the moon, Dave.
Well, maybe it's those Chatty Cathys at the Forest Service.
I hate those guys. Always on their radios, talking about trees.
Dave, it's not Smokey Bear we're picking up.
Look at that signal.
It's drifting.
What is it, then?
Looks like simple pulse-width modulation. Old-school, like Morse code.
Maybe somehow, it's the time signal out of Fort Collins.
- They use pulse-width modulation. - It's not the atomic clock.
The atomic clock changes every minute because it's a clock.
This is the same exact data repeated every 78 seconds.
Plus, this is coming from 600 light-years away.
This Morse code of yours seems to be split four ways.
The pulses are of equal duration,
but they're positioned across four different frequencies.
- Looks like a player piano. - So not binary but base four.
Quaternary.
This won't be easy to crack.
No, no. If you look at this. Look at...
What do you think it says?
Maybe just, "Hello. Hey, hey. We're out here."
What did we put on Voyagers 1 and 2? Chuck Berry?
Maybe this is just their version of "Johnny B. Goode."
Imagine the power it took to send it.
Megawatts?
Gigawatts?
And that's if it's pointed only at us.
Antenna the size of Africa.
Bigger.
You go to all that trouble to send a message,
it's gotta be more than just "hello."
And why make it hard to understand?
Quaternary?
That's like encryption. Why would you bother to...
It's not quaternary.
I think I know what it is.
The twin moons hung low and full.
Two wine-green eyes peering over the horizon
as if to steal a glimpse into Lucasia's soul.
She paced the blood-soaked decks of the Mercator,
looking for something, anything, that might take her mind off Raban.
Ascending the forecastle, her gaze lingered over a bare-chested young sailor.
On hands and knees he scrubbed,
his sinewy forearms stretched taut as he washed away all trace of the day's fight.
With a languid nod...
Lucasia bade him follow to her cabin.
Little did this callow deckhand know that serving at his captain's pleasure
might take on such sweet meaning.
Or, regrettably, that it would last but a single night.
Later, at four bells, Lucasia stood by the mizzenmast.
Once again, she was alone.
She pulled her topcoat tighter,
fingering its coarse wool as her thoughts flashed back to Raban.
It had been he who first wrapped the coat around her,
whispering in her ear,
"May this keep you warm in my absence, ma chérie."
With that, Raban, proud, haughty Raban,
mounted the plank and leaped from sight.
The amaranthine slipsand closed over him,
leaving nary a ripple.
Attention, lovers of speculative historical romance literature,
best-selling author Carol Sturka will now sign her new novel,
"Bloodsong of Wycaro,"
the fourth book in her "Winds of Wycaro" trilogy.
"Why-car-oh," please! It's "Winds of Why-car-oh!"
And Bloodsong is the best yet.
God, are you in for a treat.
Let's go sign books!
Raban is alive, right?
Maureen. You could read it.
Well, I will. Tonight.
I've already unplugged the phone.
Just...
- Raban's not on the cover. - No, he's not.
And he's never not been on the cover, Carol.
If Raban doesn't come back...
I'm done.
Come here.
Page 218.
- Okay. Thank you. - Okay. Bye.
Thanks, Maureen.
- Okay, this is Olga. - Hi. Hi, Olga.
Hi, Yvette!
Hi!
Love it.
- Happy reading. - This is Nicky, with a pillow.
- Nicky with a... Oh, my gosh! - I made it myself.
- Look at that. You made this? - Yes.
This is Christine.
This is Paulina and support person.
- This is Carlotta. - Hi.
Say, "Raban".
Raban.
When Raban and Eldgammel fell in the cargo hold,
do you remember what it was loaded with?
Mandovian spicefruit.
Which Lucasia is...
Deathly allergic to!
- You guys run a fan club? - Of course!
- Thank you so much! - Thank you.
- Hi, Tanya. - Hi!
- Are you excited? - Yes.
- Hi, Yvonne. - Hi.
I got two books, one for the tub.
This is a authentic cutlass just like Raban's.
- Okay. - Careful, it's really sharp.
Okay, so three things.
A: When finally are they gonna make a "Wycaro" movie?
And please tell me it'll be in actual theaters, not on the Lifetime Network.
B: You gotta get ILM to do the slipsand,
otherwise it's just gonna look like merde, pardon my French.
And C: A small but very crucial point,
as a two-masted schooner, the Mercator would not possess a mizzenmast. So...
Craig, I'm gonna need you to put this back in the bag
before the store manager sees it.
Right.
- Your humble servant. - Thank you.
That's the one.
Thank you so much.
- We'll see you at the next one. - Happy reading.
All right. All right.
Hi, ladies. I have us going to the Hyatt Regency Dallas.
Hi. Yeah. Thanks, perfect.
That was quite a send-off. I'm sorry, should I know who you are?
Depends. You a big fan of mindless crap?
Morning, Doc.
Well, it certainly is.
- Hey, Mel. - Hey.
Where'd those come from?
Yours truly.
Help yourself. I think they're mostly glazed,
but one box ought to be sprinkled, powdered and all that.
What did we do to deserve this?
My 14-year-old's selling 'em for marching band.
Well, aren't you a good dad.
- What does she play? - Trombone.
- Doctor D! - Good evening. Morning. Whatever.
- Look what Mel brought. - For us?
Yeah, please.
They got you two working late.
Yeah. I gotta gas a bunch of rats.
So, how goes the big project?
What have you heard?
I don't know. Things.
Well...
Our team's fairly certain we've got a sequence
that encodes for a lysogenic virus.
But after eight whole months of animal testing...
Macaques, rabbits, mice...
- Guinea pigs. - Guinea pigs. Now rats.
No clinical signs whatsoever.
Put another way...
we got bubkes.
We got bubkes.
Okay, how do you wanna do this?
I can put 'em to sleep if you wanna do the cardiac sticks.
I hate the cardiac sticks.
Well, you're more than welcome to gas them.
I hate gassing them.
Might be in the wrong career.
All right, cardiac sticks it is.
Let's get it over with.
Check it out.
Damn.
What do you figure happened there?
I don't know.
He's looking pretty dead to me.
You got a heartbeat?
I can't feel jack shit in these gloves.
Huh, what?
He's absolutely got a heartbeat.
A strong one. Just bam, bam, bam.
It's weird. If I didn't know any better, I'd...
God. Oh, shit. Oh, no.
You've got to be kidding me.
- Shit. - Did he break the skin?
Yeah, I don't... Yeah, it's through the glove.
Shit. Soak it quick.
Keep it submerged.
If it's bleeding, make sure to squeeze it out good.
I'm gonna call this in as soon as I catch him, okay?
Right there.
Let's mark 3:36 and...
Jenn?
Talk to me, Jenn. Jenn!
Jenn! Jenn! Jenn!
We are getting out right now.
I got you. Okay, come on.
I got you.
Hang on.
Jenn, can you hear me? It's gonna be fine.
You're gonna be all right.
Come on. You're gonna be all right. You're gonna be all right, you hear me?
Come on, come on, come on. Talk to me. Come on, Jenn, come on.
Jenn! You all right?
Jenn?
Just say something.
Jenn. I got you.
I got you.
Jenn?
Hey, hey, hey, Jenn. Can you hear me?
Jenn, say something.
Damn it.
Kidding me?
Really?
Damn.
Can you believe this thing?
You've got skinny arms. Do you think you could maybe...
Hey.
Yes?
I'm gonna get some gum.
Seriously?
I had one Tito's in Salt Lake. That was, like, two hours ago.
Rye Manhattan...
and a Diet Pepsi.
Thanks.
We could take a cab home.
Don't tell me you don't need a drink, 'cause you need a drink.
- I don't need a drink. - You need a drink.
I don't need a drink.
I call bullshit on that.
I need sleep, that's what I need.
Hey, cheers, to the best tour yet.
- You gonna leave me hanging here? - I do not clink glasses
with fucking Diet Pepsi.
Best book tour? What is that?
Is that like best stomach cancer?
You endure it, you do not toast it.
How I hate all those paying customers showering me with love and respect.
And why do I have to make so much money?
How do you bear it?
Bunch of dummies.
Wow. It's a ship that sails on... sand?
Purple sand? That is... That's brilliant.
The world needed that.
And the world needed yet another female character
who spends all her time mooning over some fucking proud and haughty pirate.
He's a corsair, not a pirate.
"Mandovian spicefruit."
Jesus. That... I...
It's like a bad episode of Star Trek.
So how about you throw everybody a changeup?
Green sand instead of purple?
Maybe it's time for your serious book.
Why not? You've been plugging away at it for five years.
- Four and a half. Barely. - Pardon me.
So put it out already.
I can't just... It...
It needs polishing.
Obviously. I mean it does, right?
Okay, take the next few months and polish.
I'll work it out.
I'll buy you some more time before your next Wycaro.
You really think Bitter Chrysalis is that good?
I think people will love it.
You ever read Finnegans Wake?
No.
I tried to. In grad school.
It's probably great. I don't know.
All I know is it made me miserable trying to get through it.
I figure...
you make even one person happy, maybe that's not art.
But it's something.
To Raban.
Proud, haughty Raban.
Did you bring your cigarettes?
Since when do you smoke?
Since now.
Are you trying to start a forest fire? Stop wasting my butane.
Stop telling me how to smoke.
I used to smoke in middle school.
You're supposed to light the other person's cigarette first, by the way.
- That's etiquette. - Yeah? On a plane,
do you put your own oxygen mask on first?
Do you wanna hear what HoustonMom78 says about Bloodsong?
"Best Wycaro ever!" All caps.
And...
- 16, 17 exclamation points. - Wow.
- Is that a new record? - It's gotta be.
"Spoiler alert, Raban is back and yummier that ever."
Yummier than ever, I think she means.
"You better belief he's got my permission to come aboard.
I'd walk his plank any time."
I'm sensing a nautical motif.
A little bit. Think HoustonMom's off her meds again?
I think HoustonMom would spread her legs for a grilled cheese sandwich.
Look at that.
What?
What do you think they're doing?
- What's what doing? - The planes. Up. Look.
I don't know. What, is that weird?
Yeah, it's weird. Isn't it?
All of them kinda parallel like that.
Anybody else weigh in?
It's all the usual suspects, plus a few new ones.
Everybody loves it.
You wanna answer a few questions for them?
- What, now? No. No, no. - Do one quick one.
Let 'em know you're paying attention.
"Carol, my husband says Raban can be my hall pass,
which I don't think is fair since Raban's not a real-life person,
although I wish he was.
In real-life, was there an actual man you were thinking of
when you came up with Raban?"
That's hilarious.
You wanna tell her the truth?
What do you have to lose?
Put down George Clooney.
- What? - Nothing.
- What's wrong with him? - Nothing. Just...
I mean, how about a hot Brazilian soccer player?
Someone with dreadlocks. Hip it up.
Just...
put George Clooney.
It's safer.
Shit.
Buddy, you... You okay, buddy?
Jesus.
Helen, should we call someone?
Helen?
Helen, stop looking at the goddamn...
Helen?
Oh, my God. Helen!
Helen?
Help!
Somebody help us!
Help!
Just hang in there. Hang in there.
Just hang in there.
Call 911...
Oh, God.
Come on, please.
Please, please.
- You've reached the Albuquerque Police... - Yes. Hi. I...
- ...emergency number. - Shit!
- Please remain on the line. - Fuck!
- An operator will be with you shortly. - Fuck!
You've reached the Albuquerque Police...
Come on, come on, come on.
Come on, come on, come on!
Fuck you.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
Fuck you!
Hey, you gotta get out. Come on, get out. Get out! Oh, God.
No! Fuck!
Fucking go!
Thank God.
Hey. Hey.
Wake up.
Dr. Nguyen, I need you to wake up.
Please wake up.
Doctor.
Dr. Nguyen, wake up.
Wake up.
Please wake up.
Dr. Nguyen, wake up!
Okay.
I'm so sorry! Fuck.
Okay.
Okay. Here we go.
Helen?
Helen? Helen?
Helen. Helen.
Hi.
Baby.
Hi, baby.
No, no, no.
Goddamn it.
Okay.
Come on.
Somebody please help me.
No, no, no. God, no. Don't...
Please. Please.
Hey.
What is happening?
Hey! Hey! Don't you touch her!
You put her down. Put her down.
Get out! Go away!
What the hell is wrong with you people?
We just wanna help, Carol.
What the fuck?
Christ, no.
Come on, come on, come on.
Come on, come on, please.
There's a spare key.
We can show you.
No. No, stop. Don't come any closer.
We don't mean to scare you, Carol.
You're in no danger.
We really do want to help.
Remember? April 2016.
The last time you got locked out.
You put a spare key under the flower pot.
The one on the right.
Back there.
There you go.
Leave me alone.
- Please. - Sure, Carol.
Just give us a couple of minutes to clear out.
We're very sorry for your loss.
Fuck yeah!
God bless America.
Hi, Carol. Thank you for calling.
Yep.
This must be so bewildering for you.
So terrible.
All the death and destruction you witnessed tonight.
Especially Helen's passing. Please know none of that was intentional.
You have our deepest condolences.
And to say it again, you are in no danger.
You are perfectly safe.
- Okay. - Your life is your own.
Please know that.
Your well-being is of utmost importance to us.
Okay.
Completely up to you, of course,
but you might want to stick close to home for the next few days.
We've a lot to clean up, and it may be distressing for you to see.
But we will put things right.
To that end, if we may be of assistance with Helen's remains...
- Nope. - Okay.
If we can help you in any way please let us know.
We can deliver food, medicine, whatever you need.
Just dial zero, day or night.
You will want to call from a landline as all the cellular networks are down.
But we are here for you.
We feel like we're doing all the talking here.
Are there any questions you might have for us, Carol?
Anything at all.
Yeah. Yeah, sure.
I guess to start with,
what the fuck is happening?
Well, basically...
It's an alien invasion, right?
I mean, obviously it's an alien invasion.
Actually, no. It is not.
What the fuck it isn't. You know my name.
You know Helen's name.
You are talking to me from my TV!
And what the fuck is with everybody's...
Shit like this...
And those two weird... the weird neighbor kids next door.
They know where some goddamn key...
How would they know that, huh?
- Are you reading my mind? - No. Absolutely not.
We couldn't do that if we wanted to.
Who is "we?" Why is everybody suddenly "we?"
You know, we could continue this after you've had a good night's sleep.
Who is "we?"
"We" is us. Just us.
Who the fuck is "us?"
Us. There are no aliens.
Not on this planet.
We are, however, beneficiaries of extraterrestrial technology.
Fourteen months ago, astronomers discovered a radio signal
from 600 light-years away.
There's no telling how long it's been repeating.
Maybe throughout all of human existence.
This signal, it's made up of four tones
representing guanine, uracil, adenine and cytosine.
It's a recipe, it turns out, for a nucleotide sequence.
RNA.
Scientists have created this sequence in a lab.
It is not a living thing, per se. It is more akin to a virus.
Though it's not that exactly either.
It's kind of a psychic glue capable of binding us all together.
Okay.
So, if you're not aliens...
Who am I talking to right now? Who are you?
This particular individual?
This is Davis Taffler.
Under Secretary of Agriculture for Farm Production and Conservation.
But you are currently talking to every person on Earth,
including Davis Taffler.
We're all one.
How does that work?
We don't know exactly. It just does.
Can I talk to the President?
That individual passed away this evening, unfortunately.
Along with quite a few senior members of the United States government.
Davis Taffler happened to be nearby and intact.
And he was wearing a suit. So...
So, you're in charge now?
- The Under Secretary of... - No.
Nobody's in charge. Or everybody's in charge.
Really, there's no such thing anymore.
But there's got to be others like me.
Your situation is a rare one.
There appear to be 11 other individuals like yourself.
In Albuquerque?
No. In the world.
We have reached out to them.
Like you, they are disoriented. Understandably.
Rest assured, Carol.
We will figure out what makes you different.
Figure it out why?
So we can fix it.
So you can join us.
Oh, God.
Carol, you still there?
You...
You said my life was my own.
It is. One hundred percent.
So, what happens when I say no?
Carol, once you understand how wonderful this is...
Carol?
Hi! You've reached 505-796-6933.
We're on the French Riviera drinking champagne.
We are not here in our sweatpants screening your call.
Make it a good one.
Carol, hello?
It's us. Hello?
We're sorry we upset you, Carol.
We only want to make you happy.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!