Three more days of debate, and Jennifer could feel the decision approaching like weather.
The conversations had continued—sometimes all eight of them, sometimes in smaller groups that formed and dissolved as different concerns surfaced. Priya had demanded a detailed risk assessment. Rob had asked about containment, contingencies, what they would do if something went wrong. The scientists had argued physics and biology and ethics, circling the same questions from different angles.
Now they had gathered in the BEEGL chamber itself, the field generator humming at standby, the Rhynie artifact pulsing with slow rhythms in its containment field. Not for another scientific discussion. For a decision.
"I've been thinking about authority," David said. "Who has the right to make this choice. And I keep coming back to the same conclusion: no one does. There's no governing body for first contact. No protocol that anticipated this."
"We could wait," Susan said. "Build frameworks. Bring in more people."
"Every framework we build will be built by people who haven't experienced what we have. Who haven't felt the chronicle, communicated with the avatar, understood the physics from the inside." David shook his head. "I'm not saying we're special. I'm saying we're the ones who are here."
"Maybe that's the point," Jennifer said.
The others turned to look at her.
"Maybe the Cethren chose us precisely because there's no authority. Because they didn't want a commi…
