They arrived together, which David had not expected.
Priya Sharma and Rob Caldwell had coordinated on the drive over, comparing notes on his cryptic invitation. He could see it in the way they entered—not as separate administrators from separate institutions, but as a unified front, prepared for whatever strangeness awaited.
"You said we needed to see something," Priya said. No preamble. She had been managing research portfolios long enough to recognize when a principal investigator was about to deliver news that would complicate her life. "I've blocked four hours. Whatever this is, it better be worth canceling a budget review."
"It's worth it." David met her eyes. "But I need you to understand—what you're about to experience will change how you think about everything. I'm not being dramatic. I'm being precise."
Rob studied him with the calm assessment of a man who had flown three shuttle missions. "Your quarterly reports have been getting stranger. The results have been consistent enough that we left you alone."
"The results are real. And they lead somewhere none of us expected."
He led them to the BEEGL chamber, where the team had assembled. Then he told them.
Eleven billion years. Encoded consciousness. The chronicle that had been recording Earth since the iridium-bearing asteroids arrived. Two-way contact with beings who called themselves the Cethren.
The silence stretched.
"Contact," Rob said finally. "You're telling me you've made…
