Alex Gore - The Cube

“You’ve got to see that, Sir!” Babyface sounded concerned and it was not a good sign. “We decoded the records from the black box, Sir.”

“Coming right now. Call the German guy and the Biology lady to be prepared, we might call them if necessary.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The recording on the video-wall showed a stocky Russian with bright eyes. He was in a navy-blue uniform with a lot of stars on his shoulder straps; he was talking something in his language and was raising a large glass of vodka, obviously making a toast on some occasion. He was grinning at the lens, the camera followed him, while he was walking to the bridge, sipping quite often from his drink. It wasn’t clear how sober he was.

“What is that, Lieutenant?” Norman asked, knitting his brows. “It’s Russian, Sir.”

“I can see it’s Russian, but I don’t know a word of Russian. You speak the language, don’t you?”

“That’s right, Sir. Only my Russian is… err… far from perfect and this man blurs the words and he’s speaking in some local accent.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Norman shook his head and waved at the soldier at the door. “Call the biologist and the rest of the scientists, they must see this.”

It was only them four in the canteen now. They had finished their meal, but nobody felt like leaving, they preferred being here. Only when they were together they felt safe and secure.

Alan was picking his molars with a toothpick. Marcela was obstinately trying to pick a lonely pea in her empty plate with her fork. Hans had sunk back in his chair with arms crossed over his chest and was gazing at the ceiling deep in thought. Michael took a rolled by hand cigarette and a box of matches out of his pocket.

“Mikey, you know that the Major forbids smoking on the territory of the base”, Marcela reminded him. “You were given twice already a ‘final warning’, you know.”

“Fuck the Major and his orders. I don’t give a shit about them. Moreover, what can he do to me? Arrest me or what? Screw him, I’m dying for a cigarette.” The young man lit his cigarette and inhaled the smoke to the bottom of his lungs.

“I really dig Mike, he doesn’t care about anything”, Alan said smiling and made a move to throw a crumpled napkin at him.

“Smoking’s bad for you, Mike”. Marcela looked at him with a motherly strict glance in which there was affection too.

“Listen to the woman and you can’t be wrong, kid.” Alan had stood up and put his palms on Marcela’s shoulders, to which she reacted by throwing a disapproving glance back at him. He removed his hands and slowly walked to the water dispenser in the corner. Having poured a glass of water he came back to his seat, looking slightly embarrassed.

The German scientist was still focused on the white ceiling as if nothing was happening around him.

“Hey, Hans, where are you? Won’t you comment on this whole story”, Michael said, shoving him gently with his foot, at which the plump scientist jumped.

“I was just reflecting on the meaning of this message, based on Einstein’s most famous formula.

“Do you think the words from the Bible are related somehow?” Marcela asked.

“Yes, they are definitely related, but I rather believe this ‘bloody’ message, indirectly pointing to cruelty and aggression, was left for us from a crew member. I don’t think it’s from ‘them’.”

“Why is it that you, scientists, always idealize alien intelligence, defining it as ‘friendly’, ‘good’ and by all means ‘better developed and more spiritual’ compared to us?!” Alan asked a bit theatrically.

“If you do not believe in the good basis of science and evolution, everything stops making sense, my friend”, Hans replied to him ironically.

“And that bit with Einstein?” Michael asked.

“It definitely sounds well-intentioned to me. The language of pure science is always a language of peace and concordance. Somebody or something wants to make contact with us and on a high level at that. Specific knowledge of the universe is demonstrated…”

“Tell it to the chimpanzees, used for experiments in some laboratory of a powerful trade corporation, or to the mice on which research is done in universities”, Marcela interrupted him.

“Well, science needs some minimum sacrifices”, Hans conceded.

“I hope this time the ‘minimum sacrifices’ in a cage are not us” Alan remarked.

“As much as it hurts me, I must admit this time you are right. Still I feel that this is just the beginning of some type of communication, it definitely seems a sign of a desire for a friendly dialogue.”

“You mean, something like a ‘chat’, eh?” Michael winked at him.

“I don’t know, ‘fishing for people’ does not sound very ‘human’ to me”, Marcela expressed a doubt.

“Actually, the biblical meaning is different from the way you understand it, taken out of the context”, Michael noted. “The fable says that while walking along the coast of Galilea lake, Jesus saw two of his disciples, Simon and his brother Andrew, fishing. He appealed to them to follow him and promised to them not money or some payback, but that he will send them ‘fishing for people’. They submitted instantly and dropped their fishing to follow him.”

“Jesus made them hunt for people and kill them?”, Marcela asked in amazement.

“No, on the contrary: to fish for lost souls and attract them to the good faith. They were simple fishermen but the meaning was that if they followed truth blindly and demonstrated the patience and the skill of a fisherman, they could reach men and convince them about the path to healing and salvation.”

“The path of Christ”, Marcela nodded as it dawned on her.

At this moment the Lieutenant came in, saluting them formally.

“The Major would like all of you to go to the command room. Now!”

“I studied Russian at school” Marcela announced. “It was an obligatory foreign language for the countries behind the Iron Curtain.” She put the headset on in order to hear better. “However, I must warn you, my level is very basic. Actually, why don’t we call the Russians? They will translate it to the last detail…”

“What do you hear?” Norman interrupted her, eager to know what happened to the ship and the crew. “The Russians will translate after we see it first.”

If he knew but a little bit of Russian, we too would see it much later, if at all, Alan thought while sitting in front of the screen.

The merry commander appeared again on the wall. Behind him several crew members were seen, engaged with different devices in the command room of the submarine.

Marcela knitted her brows together in concentration, while she was watching the video for several minutes, then pressed the ‘pause’ button, took off the headset and said:

“This is the captain of the ship, who congratulates the Russian people with the successful start of the mission and the leap in time that passed without complications as per schedule. He says a phrase from Orthodox Christianity: ‘God be with us’.”

She pressed ‘play’ again and the picture moved. People in uniforms were seen, climbing a metal staircase, laughing and playing with each other. There were at least six men and two women. Obviously, the crew was in high spirits back then.

The shot changed and now just clear blue sky was seen. The operator pointed the camera back down and they saw the merry group on the deck by the tower of the submarine. The camera made a circle of 360 degrees and showed the sea – only blue water as far as the horizon. The captain reappeared on the screen, leaning on the tower and raising a toast to the group.