Hachiman scanned its database for an appropriate response when the indigenous life forms lifted it from the sand. It decided to take a passive posture and continue to observe the beach-dwelling life forms. This was the most entertainment Hachiman had since the close encounter with the singularity.
Then it had an idea. When it had scanned the electro-magnetic frequencies for possible signals from home, it found modulated signals in the lower frequencies. It guessed by the signal characteristics and strength, that the signals were locally generated and possibly a means of communication. It decoded them by cross-referencing them with the ambient sound, what it had previously thought were “junk” noises. The refining process took less than four milliseconds. Yes, the indigenous life forms used audio communication. It formulated thirteen different grammar-syntax-vocabulary combinations that would fit the small sample size. It also processed the actions that the life forms made in conjunction with this sonic communication, and concluded that their movements were a part of their language.
When the life forms loaded Hachiman into a box, it did not resist. Hachiman could still send and receive tachyon signals. Moments later, it felt a change in altitude. Air transportation didn’t concern it, as long as it remained within the gravity well of this planet.
Hachiman recalled how the life forms interacted with each other, and determined that they employed a hierarchical form of social organization. Just as it had done with their communication, it formulated several different social structures that would fit its observations.
Perhaps they showed signs of intelligence after all, primitive intelligence, but just enough to be on the waking edge of sentience.
Lab 14, Edwards Air Force Base
California, USA
Dipesh held a cup of coffee, feeling the stress of this situation translate into exhaustion in his bones. Through a double-pane window, he watched technicians load Hachiman onto an examination table. It looked the same as it had on the beach, but the harsh lab lights cast a more sterile, ominous feel. The murmur of a couple dozen scientists, politicians, and some of the NEO team filled the viewing area behind him. John had flown in with him; David and Irene arrived just in time for the first debriefing, which buzzed with excited speculation.
Brigadier General Jensen, an African-American man with graying temples and a keen look in his eye, asked everyone to take their seats. He introduced himself and explained the government’s plan to, “observe the object at first, but if we don’t discover something helpful within the next three hours ... well then, we’ll take more aggressive methods of examination.”
Several hands rose for questions.
The general nodded to a woman in the front row. She stood up and introduced herself. “Chelsea Newman from Homeland Security. General, what do you mean by more aggressive methods?”
“It means we take it apart by whatever means necessary. We view the object as the source of the agents that are altering our environment.”
More hands shot up and a man rose just in front of Dipesh. He spoke with a British accent. “Donald Norton from the Space Guard Foundation. Brigadier General Jensen, is it possible that we can get into the lab to see the Hachiman meteorite?”
The general shook his head. “That’s just not possible given our time constraints. I want to make it clear that you are all here as valued consultants, and we appreciate your time.”
Dipesh chuckled and whispered to John, “Like anyone would pass up this opportunity.”
“But the viewing area,” the general said, “is equipped with overhead monitors showing the same readouts that the lab technicians see.”
Dipesh looked up at the monitor closest to him. Hachiman still looked dead. It showed no more evidence of performing the sunflower trick that it had done earlier. He watched as all tests gave no clue to interior or even exterior composition. Broad-spectrum scans, including radio, X-ray, infrared, and ultra-sound, showed Hachiman as an inert, homogeneous, black object. Surface exams for microbes yielded negative results; it was completely sterile even of terrestrial bacteria. The observing consultants made several suggestions, and though Dipesh found some to be insightful, their negative results only added to Hachiman’s mystery. At one point, one of the lab scientists glanced up at the clock, and Dipesh could see the frustrated passion in her eyes.