The Return Call

August 2, 2045.

The sky over the Pacific Ocean emitted a green light at 01:47 PM Greenwich Mean Time, turning the night sky along the eastern coasts of Japan a brilliant hue. Then, a pulse of deep violet painted the clouds like bruises on velvet.

The phenomenon could be seen from various eastern coasts of Japan. Fishermen looked up from their nets. A container vessel passing the Izu Islands recorded the event on bridge cameras, and within twenty minutes, the footage had traveled through satellite relays to every major news desk on the planet.

Unlike fireworks that bloom and fade, these lights held their shapes. They formed circles, triangles, and a sequence of repeating diamonds before dissolving into the next pattern. Electromagnetic waves with a clear pattern accompanied the phenomenon, and researchers compared their findings within hours. Many people speculated the lights were drones. Only a fraction of informed individuals knew they came from above the atmosphere, the domain of spacecraft.

The world watched. Various experts debated. Theories circulated, ranging from extraterrestrial messages and AI videos to weapons testing and top-secret space programs. The official Japanese government report stated that it was a US orbital space program, though many remained skeptical.

Professor Kotaro Shirogane leaned back in his chair late at night in the Department of Astronomy at the University of Tokyo. He dialed a number on his phone.

"Hello, Wakai. Have you heard the government statement about yesterday’s light phenomenon?" he asked his former student.

"Hello, Professor. The government couldn’t tell a better lie this time," Dr. Erina Wakai replied.

"By the way, do you know about that Sagittarius?" Shirogane lowered his voice.

"That Sagittarius who shot down a star," Erina said over the international line. "I know about that, Professor. I am still inside the circle. You’re still as cautious as ever."

"You’re too vocal. I am worried you’ll get expelled from the circle, or worse."

"Don't worry, Professor. I am fine."

Erina, a researcher employed by the US government, well understood her professor’s uneasiness. At a time when countless PhDs struggled to find stable work, leaking confidential information could cost Shirogane his tenured position.

Beyond the public eye, a coordinated response was already underway. A coalition of nations, working through the United Nations Office for Outer Space Affairs, drafted a response signal within seventy-two hours. Radio telescopes in Arecibo, Green Bank, and the FAST array in China transmitted a sequence of prime numbers, human anatomy, basic chemistry, and a diagram of the solar system. The transmission lasted four minutes.

Those who opposed the reply had warned against it. Scientists studying animal behavior noted that a returned call could mean an invitation or a trap. Anthropologists presented evidence of how one culture misinterprets another until weapons are drawn. They wrote memos and held press conferences.

Conspiracy theorists and people who were dissatisfied with the government's explanation talked about the light phenomenon for weeks. Meanwhile, attention-grabbing stories like celebrity scandals, fashion fads, and football matches flooded the media. Soon, interest in the extraterrestrial montage plummeted.

Earth waited for a response for weeks after the reply message was sent. Radio telescopes scanned white noise. Amateur astronomers stared at ordinary patches of sky until their eyes watered. Most people forgot. Governments formed committees to prepare for extraterrestrial contact, and funding for a second round of transmissions was approved immediately.

Another extraterrestrial signal arrived in December.

In the Atlas Mountains of Morocco, a shepherd described streaks of fire falling from a sky that had been clear a moment before. The streaks struck the ground with concussions, throwing dirt and stone a kilometer into the air, followed by a harsh white flash of light that bleached the color from everything it touched.

Within an hour, similar reports arrived from every continent.

The objects that fell from the sky were not detected by most manmade sensors until they were too close to the Earth's surface. These devices burrowed. Each one punched a hole straight down, like a nail driven by a hammer the size of a city block. The holes were perfect circles, forty meters in diameter, their walls glazed by heat into something resembling obsidian. The devices themselves disappeared below the surface, trailing tails of fire that lingered for hours. Then, at some of the sites, other devices climbed up the holes and constructed encasements to seal them.

Smoke rose from forty-five locations worldwide.

The shepherd in Morocco watched his sheep run in circles while the ground trembled. A family in rural Saskatchewan saw a plume rise from their neighbor's wheat field. A fishing village on the island of Sulawesi lost three boats when a crater opened fifty meters inside a lake and boiled the water for a full day. In Antarctica, researchers at the South Pole Telescope recorded the event as a seismic anomaly before they understood what it was.

Dr. Erina Wakai slept in her room after twenty-five hours of arduous pattern analysis. Her alarm woke her, and she checked twenty-five unread e-mail notifications on her phone. Then, her phone rang.

"Hello, Professor," Erina said, noticing the caller.

"Hello, Wakai," Professor Shirogane exhaled deeply. "Have you watched the news? The world is in a panic right now."

"Sorry, Professor, I slept for hours. I am just waking up. I haven’t caught the news yet."

"The aliens sent their burrowing devices across the globe. The world governments were too busy to stop the panic."

Erina browsed the internet on her computer. "UFOs were crashing and digging holes. Why did no one shot them down?"

"Actually, they tried," Professor Shirogane replied. "But the alien devices repel our missiles and laser beams."

"I wonder what cover story the government will give to the public."

"The world governments are running emergency hotlines. The experts, whether official or self-proclaimed, are giving television interviews right now. Perhaps you will soon be summoned to help us endure this crisis."

"I am preparing myself, Professor."

At the United Nations, an emergency session lasted thirty-six hours. Delegates shouted over each other. The Chinese ambassador demanded a coordinated military response. The Russian delegate suggested shooting down anything that came near the atmosphere again.

Geologists descended on the impact sites in hazmat suits, taking samples of the glazed walls and measuring depths with lasers. Sensitive instruments detected a rhythmical pulse from each hole that repeated every minute and forty-eight seconds.

Some of the alien devices had not buried themselves completely. At eight of the crater sites, metal protrusions, or what looked like metal, remained visible above ground. They were smooth and curved, like the handle of a door that had been left ajar. No one dared to touch them.

Military satellites repositioned to cover every crater simultaneously. A new agency was formed, hastily named the Extraterrestrial Defense Force, though no one had yet proven that anything needed defending against. Its headquarters rose in Virginia, on land seized by eminent domain.

In a small apartment building in New Jersey, a patterns expert named Erina Wakai received a phone call. She was thirty-four years old, had never worked for the military, and spent most of her time studying statistical anomalies in satellite imagery. She had written a paper three years earlier about the distribution of impact craters on Europa, and someone in the intelligence community had read it.

"Good evening, Dr. Erina Wakai. I am Tanya, calling you on behalf of the Extraterrestrial Defense Force. We need your immediate assistance for our project," an officer said.

"Do I need to bring or prepare anything, officer?" Erina replied.

"Just bring everything you’re comfortable with as soon as possible to our headquarters. The address will be sent to your email."

Erina packed a bag and drove through the night with the radio turned off, because every station was broadcasting similar warnings and speculation. The roads were empty and the sky above her was clear.