Armada

“I built the Armada,” it said. “And this entire time you were fighting against yourselves.

 

“The Sodality has been monitoring your species’ radio and television broadcasts for as long as you’ve been transmitting them into space. But we didn’t begin to take a special interest in humanity until 1945, when you created your first nuclear weapon and then used it for warfare against your own kind. At that time, we used all of that data we had collected to create a detailed profile of your species and ascertain its evolutionary strengths and weaknesses. In 1969, when your species became technologically advanced enough to reach another world, in this case your own moon, you became a potential threat to the others members of the Sodality. And that was when I was sent here, to deliver the Test.”

 

“So it was a test, after all?” I said. “What for?”

 

“A test that we use to gauge whether or not your species is capable of existing peacefully within the Sodality,” the Envoy said. “It was initiated when your species first discovered the swastika on Europa’s surface. We selected a symbol that your culture most associates with war and death, and then we re-created an enormous replica of that symbol on the nearest celestial body in your solar system with conditions capable of harboring intelligent life.”

 

“We knew your discovery of such a symbol would eventually prompt you to send another probe down to the surface to investigate its origin,” the Emissary said. “As soon as your probe landed on Europa, the next phase of the test began. I simulated a standard first-contact scenario for your species, in which a cultural misunderstanding leads to a declaration of war.”

 

The machine’s declaration didn’t ring true to my ears, but I was in no mental condition to start a debate.

 

“You built all of those drones yourself?” I said. “And you controlled them in combat?”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“So this entire time, it was just you?” I said. “One artificially intelligent supercomputer pretending to be a hostile alien race for the purpose of testing humanity’s character?”

 

“In very simple terms, yes. That is accurate.” The machine paused. “It was your time to be tested. The Sodality found it necessary to ascertain how your species would handle a common first-contact scenario with a neighboring civilization. As I said, it was a test. The Test.”

 

“Your ‘test’ killed millions of innocent people,” I said through clenched teeth. “Including several of my friends. And my father.”

 

“We are sorry for the losses you have suffered,” the Emissary said. “But know that many other species have passed the Test with no conflict or loss of life.”

 

I was nearly sobbing now. “What did you want us to do? What were we supposed to do?”

 

“There is no right or wrong way of taking the Test,” the Emissary told me. “Using human psychological terms, it was a projective test, rather than an objective one. It presents the subject civilization with varying sets of circumstances intended to gauge your capacity for empathy, altruism, and your ability to act and negotiate as one collective species. It allows the Sodality to see how your species navigates first contact with a species of similar temperament.”

 

“Isn’t there an easier way to do that?” I asked. “One that wouldn’t have involved killing millions of us and trashing our whole planet?”

 

“The Test reveals things about a species that cannot be ascertained any other way—what your Earth scientists refer to as an ‘emergent property.’ ”

 

I didn’t know how to respond. I was almost too upset to form thoughts or words.

 

“You should not feel too remorseful about how the Test played out,” the machine said. “Your species’ primitive warlike nature made a certain amount of conflict inevitable, as it often does. Regardless, your species should be pleased with the outcome. You passed the Test.”

 

“We did?”

 

“Yes. The result was uncertain for a while, but you did well at the end. Many species lack the ability to defy their own animal instincts and allow their intellect to prevail. Such species are usually declared unfit for survival, much less membership in the Sodality.”

 

“So you’re saying that if I hadn’t destroyed the Icebreaker, you would have exterminated the entire human race?”

 

“Correct,” the machine replied. “But thankfully you made the correct choice, and knowingly disengaged from the cycle of warlike escalation with your imaginary enemy. That is why I’m speaking to you now. Once the Test has been passed, the emissary makes contact with the individual most directly responsible, to inform them that their species has been invited to join the Sodality.”

 

“How many other civilizations are there—in the Sodality?”

 

“At present, the Sodality has eight members,” it replied. “Your species will be the ninth, if you accept our invitation.”

 

“How do we do that?”

 

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