The air was thick with the hum of machines, a cacophony of rhythmic pulses and whirring gears that seemed to synchronize with the flickering neon lights above. Elijah Kane adjusted his auburn coat—a sleek, double-breasted ensemble made of a synthetic fabric that shimmered like liquid copper under the city’s artificial glow. Around his waist was a belt with ornate brass buckles, a relic from a bygone era clashing with postmodern sensibilities. The year was 2146, and New Kyoto Tower stretched endlessly above him, its glass surface reflecting a night sky blanketed by cascading holograms of advertisements and news feeds. The mantra of the era flashed above him: “Tomorrow belongs to those who think today.”
Elijah wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. He was running from yesterday.
A deafening *crack* split the air, shards of glass raining down from the tower’s third-floor atrium. Two silhouettes leapt through the jagged opening—a man and a woman, clad in matte-black tactical exo-suits. Their visors gleamed green with embedded AI-enhanced optics as they trained their weapons down at Elijah. He didn’t wait for an introduction.
“Elijah Kane, you are in breach of the Artificial Intelligence Disarmament Act.” The voice rang out, distorted and metallic, from unseen loudspeakers hidden in the tower’s structure. “Hold your position or face immediate neural incapacitation.”
Elijah’s heart pounded; his instincts screamed at him to move. In his hand, he clutched the artifact they were after—a smooth, obsidian disc etched with alien symbols that seemed to shift and shimmer when glimpsed from the corner of the eye. It wasn’t just alien technology. It was a message.
The artifact had found him, not the other way around, and deciphering it had consumed the last year of Elijah's life. He barely understood the implications himself, but he knew this much: It wasn’t meant for AI.
*Run.*
With a deep breath, he dashed into the labyrinthine streets below. The alleyway seemed alive, shifting as steam vents hissed, small utility drones blinked out of their charging stations, and a stray cat with cybernetic eyes lunged out of his path. He heard the buzz of the agents’ jet boots taking flight above but didn’t dare look up. His old mentor, Fiona, had warned him about the government’s ambition: they wanted to repurpose alien technology not as a bridge to the cosmos, but as a weapon.
He zigged through the neon jungle, senses on overdrive, and ducked into a dimly lit noodle shop. The scent of synthetic broth mixed with motor oil hit his nostrils as he swiftly shed his coat and slid onto a stool, holding his breath. The artifact burned cool against his skin, tucked beneath his shirt.
“Rough night?” the shopkeeper asked, her cybernetic arm adjusting a steaming vat of noodles.
Elijah met her gaze just as one of the agents appeared outside, scanning the crowd with blackened visors. The artifact seemed to pulse faintly, as if responding to his fear. He slid his hand beneath the counter to steady himself, and the world suddenly shifted.
Three Months Ago
He stood in a sterile laboratory, staring at the artifact for the first time. Fiona’s voice played in his mind as clearly now as it had then: “We always thought first contact would come in the form of a ship, a signal, a diplomatic encounter on neutral ground. But this…” She held up the disc, its strange etchings glowing faintly under ultraviolet light. “…this is a first whisper. They didn’t want AI to intercept it. They wanted someone… human.”
Elijah had scoffed. “And now the government wants it too. Doesn’t that tell you everything you need to know?”
Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Which is why you need to keep it out of their hands.”
The enormity of the task had felt theoretical then. Now, with his face plastered on every holo-feed as Public Enemy #1, it was anything but.
Present
“Hey, buddy, you gonna order or just stare into space?” The shopkeeper’s voice yanked him back to the moment. The agent outside moved on, and Elijah exhaled in relief.
The artifact vibrated against his skin again. He pulled out his monochrome datapad and scanned the surface of the obsidian disc one last time, overlaying enhanced imaging algorithms. This time, something clicked. It was an encrypted map—a trajectory originating from New Kyoto and shooting past Jupiter’s orbit.
A crash sounded from the back. The agents had breached the side entrance, weapons drawn. Elijah didn’t hesitate. Tossing a credit chip to the bewildered shopkeeper, he bolted through the other exit. The city opened up again—every shadow hiding menace, every neon glow throwing him deeper into the chaos.
With no other choice, he headed to the only place that could help: the abandoned aerospace facility outside the city. Fiona had always spoken of the decaying starships left to rust there—museum pieces of Earth’s short-lived spacefaring ambition. But if there was a chance to load the disc’s trajectory into something functional, he had to take it.
The facility loomed in the darkness, its massive hangar doors creaking under disuse as he forced them open. Rows of ships sat like forgotten gods, their wide hulls cloaked in dust and regret. At the center was the most intact one: Aurora-9. Its sleek metallic body gleamed faintly like a sleeping dragon.
The agents were close. His time was almost up.
As Elijah climbed into the cockpit, the artifact seemed to sync seamlessly with the ship’s navigation system, lighting up a HUD with alien coordinates. The interface adjusted automatically to human inputs as if it had expected him to be here.
Before he could second-guess his decision, a thunderous boom echoed behind him. The agents had brought out the heavy artillery—a mech unit capable of tearing Aurora-9 apart before it could launch.
Elijah slammed the ignition. Aurora-9 roared to life, thrusters burning blue as it lifted from the hangar floor. The mech fired, its tungsten round missing the rear right engine by a hair’s breadth. Alarms blared, but Elijah’s focus never wavered as the spacecraft blasted through the hangar door, tearing into the night sky.
Below him, New Kyoto became a blur of lights and chaos, shrinking as he veered toward the stars. The artifact pulsed warmly, almost reassuringly, as if it were guiding him. Somewhere in the vast expanse above, the message's origin awaited—a civilization that had bypassed AI entirely to speak with humanity directly.
For better or worse, Elijah Kane was about to deliver the first reply.
Genre: Science Adventure
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: AI: Earth's Future Diplomat in the Quest for Extraterrestrial Connection
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