Farah Rishi - I Hope You Get This Message

ANNUNCIATION AND ROLL CALL:The Interplanetary Affairs Committee (IAC) designated this unit, Unit 212-G, to take these minutes as official record.

Thirteen (13) Scions—randomly selected citizens of Alma—compose the grand jury. The trial will be overseen by an Arbiter chosen by the IAC. Their task is to determine the fate of Project Epoch, a long-standing experiment to test the sustainability of life on another planet, which according to the results of Public Referendum 5571a is now up for review and potential termination. For the purposes of anonymity, the names of the 13 Scions will be omitted from these records.

ARBITER: Our objective here is simple: to decide the fate of the experiment known as Project Epoch. There has been much discussion in the public sphere regarding the role of this grand jury in a philosophical sense. Should we consider ethical factors in our decision? Morality? Politics? Or are these simply distractions? Let me be clear. Our laws state that the primary role of this grand jury is a pragmatic one. Our task, therefore, is to reconsider the continuation of Project Epoch in terms of what is best for the practical situation of our sovereign planet, Alma, and the future of all its citizens.

SCION 11: But doesn’t our conclusion depend on the viability of other alternatives? If we can remotely sabotage the Anathogen diffuser before it activates, do we propose new reinitialization sites?

SCION 2: Are there even new reinitialization sites to propose?

SCION 12: We have deployed probes to alternative reinitialization sites, but none has proven as viable a habitat as Project Epoch, or as time efficient. And given our own planet’s precarious status, time is no longer on our side. Terraforming, reinitializing, even colonizing—those are no longer realistic options. Epoch remains the most feasible choice for a new home unless we allow the specimens of our experiment to destroy its delicate equilibrium.

SCION 6: That is precisely why our scientists implanted the Anathogen virus. They foresaw the local population’s failure to ensure the Project’s long-term sustainability. It is tempting to give the local population the benefit of the doubt, but their enduring inability to cultivate the planet is the most damning argument against its continuation.

SCION 10: We are in agreement on one thing: it is time to step in. We can no longer afford to be naïve in this matter—or allow our investment in the Project to be so drastically compromised.

SCION 4: The population of Epoch may have already received communications confirming our planet’s existence. Everything has been compromised.

[The jury bursts into inaudible murmurs. ]

ARBITER: Order, please. Order, or I will shut the feeds. [More muttering, gradually subdued. ]I will remind the tribunal and those witnessing our deliberations that whether Project Epoch is aware of the trial is irrelevant. The deliberations will go on, and our decision will be made. That is our task. The question remains: Should we continue to monitor Project Epoch and sustain the only other intelligent life that remains in the galaxy? Or do we allow the implanted Anathogen virus to disperse in eight days, as scheduled, and terminate the Project for good?

I open the floor to testimony and opinion.

Dear Joanna,

You’re right. I did take those aquamarine earrings back in college. I just wanted to be a little more like you.

I’m sorry.

Dear Taylor,

I hope you get this message. Mom and I forgive you. We love you. We want you to come home.

Dear Lucy,

No, you know what? YOU’RE the bitch.

Mama,

It’s Lynn. I’m sorry I’ve been a shitty daughter.

If I don’t get a chance to talk to you before,

then know that I missed you every day.

Goodbye.

Emmy,

I was too much of a coward to send you that song I promised. I’ll always wonder if we could have been something more.

G—

I don’t know where you are or if you’ll even care to hear from me, but meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you.

To the girl with the yellow backpack

on the weekday morning Q train,

You calmed me down when we got stuck underground, and I’ve been crushing on you so hard ever since.

If I get a chance to see you one more time,

I’ll tell you in person.

Dear Flynn,

You were right—it was yours. I’m so sorry.

Mom, Dad, Sammy, Shan:

I don’t know if any of this is real, but just in case: I love you. So much. I’m praying for your safety.

Jeb,

I told you this would happen. I TOLD YOU.

Dearest Devi,

I screwed up real bad when we said goodbye.

No matter what Ajay’s told you,

know that I loved you more than anyone.

Khalil,

I faked it the whole time. Peace out, asshole.

I hope the aliens probe you first.

“Don’t you dare,” Jesse muttered. But the closeness of Ian’s mouth on his neck killed his willpower, making his threat weak, and his knees weaker. Ian was teasing him, definitely teasing. And although it felt kinda good—okay, really freaking good—he didn’t exactly like being at someone else’s mercy.

Especially Ian’s.

Teeth grazing. Mouth tightening. Jesse could practically hear his skin pop as he watched his own breath come out in clouds against the cold September night air. But as Ian’s hand explored down his arm, as his fingers brushed against the leather cuff Jesse wore around his wrist and reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pleasure slipped into annoyance.

Jesse threaded his own fingers between Ian’s, keeping them in place.

Jesse had two rules: his clothes stayed on—well, except for his pants, currently unzipped, if that even counted—and no touching the cuff.

And then it was over. Ian pulled away, smiling. The lime-green Close Encounters sign gave Ian’s cheekbones a neon cast as it flickered and buzzed. Jesse was surprised the sign stayed lit at all; the place, like many others in Roswell, had closed down months ago.

Jesse’s skin burned where Ian’s mouth had been. He released Ian’s hand and pressed his cool palm against the sear.

“Jesus. Really? A hickey?” He zipped his pants.

“Didn’t hear you complain.” Ian’s smile faded. “Plus”—he looked away—“I wanted to leave you somethin’ to remember me by.”

For the last few months, Jesse and Ian had been meeting in the back of Close Encounters to have close encounters—of the casual kind. Before Ian, it was Joey behind the Arby’s—his choice, not Jesse’s. Before Joey, it was Ryan in the UFO Museum parking lot. Etcetera. Jesse was good at picking out the tourists who seemed a little more interested in him than the souvenirs he used to sell at the Roswell Plaza Hotel gift shop. Usually, it didn’t last. The tourists left. That was the great thing about tourists: built-in security.