Camouflage

transmit.Focusing on various parts of the artifact, they beamed it in every frequency from microwave to X ray; they tapped it out mechanically on the thing’s surface. Of course there was no way of predicting what its response would be. Maybe it was responding in some way they couldn’t detect—saying “Shut up and give me some peace!” It was reasonable, though, to expect that it would respond in a way similar to the message: light or sound in a similar binary sequence.
    Of course it might just be a dumb machine, capable of moving itself out of harm’s way, and nothing else.
    After two weeks of no results, Jan was discouraged. She asked Russ and Jack to meet her at the Sails for dinner and strategy.
    The two men showed up together just as the sundown storm started. The setting sun was a dull red ball on the horizon while sheets of rain marched sideways across the harbor. No thunder or lightning; just an incessant downpour.
    “Another wonderful day in paradise,” she said.
    “E. T. hasn’t phoned home?” Jack said as he sat down.
    “Got ‘call waiting.’ ” The waiter appeared with the wine list. Jack waved it away and ordered a bottle of Bin 43.
    “So what do you think?” Russ said.
    “Oh, I don’t know.” She refilled her coffee cup from a silver thermos flask. “I guess it’s time to move on to the planetary environments phase. If it reacts to anything, I can repeat the Drake algorithm then.” She sipped the coffee. “As you say, Russ, maybe it’s asleep or in some dormant mode. Maybe if we reproduce its home planet’s conditions, it will be more inclined to talk.”
    Jan winced as a shift of wind sent a fine spray over them. “Waiter,” Jack said, standing and pointing to a table just inside. He carried Jan’s coffee flask in, and while a woman lit candles, the waiter appeared with a bottle and three glasses.
    “I’m willing to be patient,” Jack said, going through the tasting ritual.
    “It’s not a matter of patience.” She put her hand over her wineglass. “I feel as if we’ve gone as far as we can in this direction.”
    “Well, we knew it was going to be all or nothing,” Russ said. “Just one peep out of the thing and we’d be . . .” He rose an eyebrow and took a sip of wine.
    “Yes, we would,” she said. “But we’re not. Let’s move on.”
    “Starting at square one?” Jack said. “Mercury?”
    “We could start anywhere,” Russ said. “Mercury is going to cost out better. Just hot vacuum.”
    “So there’s a decision?”
    He looked at Jan. “Acoustic. We want to continue tapping out your message on the thing’s surface. If it responds acoustically, we won’t hear it in a vacuum.”
    “We can run a taut wire from it,” Jack said, “like a tin-can telephone.”
    “Hard to get it through the wall without damping vibrations.”
    Jack shrugged. “So don’t run it through.” He spread out his napkin and clicked a pen open. He drew a square inside a square and attached the inner to the outer with springs. “See? You have your taut wire pulling on the back of this ”—he tapped the inner square—“and it acts like an old-fashioned speaker. It’s gonna vibrate in a way that mimics the artifact’s vibrations.”
    “But we still can’t hear it,” Jan said.
    “Ah, but we can watch it. Draw a grid on the square and put a camera on it.”
    “Fourier transforms,” Russ said with approval.
    “Duck soup,” Jack said.
    “We have no duck,” the waiter said. He was standing behind Jack’s shoulder. “We have clam chowder or chicken with mushrooms.”
    Russ looked at him and decided he wasn’t joking. “I’ll have the chowder and grilled masimasi.”
    “Me, too,” Jan said.
    “The usual,” Jack said.
    “Cholesterol with cholesterol sauce,” Jan said.
    “You will have a red wine with that?”
    “Bin 88,” Jack and Russ said simultaneously. “And I want it really blue this time,” Jack said of his steak. “Cold in the center.”
    The waiter nodded and left. Russ imitated his accent: “Sir, we cannot guarantee that you will survive this meal. Samoan cattle have parasites for which there are no Western names.”
    Jack smiled and refilled both glasses of white wine. “Mercury, and then go on to Mars? Vacuum with a little carbon dioxide. Then Venus and the gasbags.”
    “Good name for a rock band,” Russ said.
    “Titan?” Jan said. “Europa?”
    “Makes sense,” Russ said. “And just outer space, 2.8 degrees above