An Absolutely Remarkable Thing (An Absolutely Remarkable Thing #1)(43)

“Hello?” I said, praying that I had tapped the correct bit of glass on my phone’s screen.

“Hold for the president,” a female voice said. This was followed by about twenty-five excruciating seconds.

Finally, a little clicking noise, followed by a voice that was absolutely, without a doubt, that of the president of the United States: “April May, thank you for making yourself available so quickly.”

“Of course, Madam President,” I said.

“Oh, well done, you’ve got the protocol down.” I could hear a smirk on her face. “I’m sorry this meeting couldn’t be in person, but time is short for us right now. I’m going on TV in about ten minutes to talk about this whole thing, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

“That’s very cool,” I said, unsure of what else to say.

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” Her voice was concise, confident, and forceful. “First, I don’t mean to scold you, but I feel it is necessary to say that I’m not 100 percent pleased with how you handled yourself this week.”

That was alarming to hear.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am, what should I have done?” I asked, honestly not knowing.

“Well, as odd as this may sound, you should have contacted me.”

“What?”

“It’s a democracy, April. Our citizens have access to their representatives in government. That can sometimes be a difficult mandate to execute, but I have confidence that you could have gotten through to me fairly quickly. I would have been in your debt.”

“For real?” I asked.

“For real,” she replied dryly. “It can’t be undone now, but in the future, if you are aware of an alien life-form, a message it has sent to the people of Earth, and are planning on taking actions based on that information, that would be a fantastic thing for the government of your country to be aware of before you take any such action. Indeed, if you have any other information, it would be appropriate to share it with me now.” She said “appropriate” in a way that made me think that she also meant “legally required.”

I stared out my window for a moment, trying to figure out if I did know anything else and coming to the conclusion that I was, suddenly and for the first time, pretty much on a level playing field with the entire rest of Earth. And then my phone booped. Another incoming call. My parents. I ignored them. “Um, I don’t know anything that isn’t currently public knowledge,” I said, maybe lying just a tiny bit. I did know that I was the cause of the Dream since I had had it first, but others were guessing as much and, frankly, I didn’t want to fess up to that.

“So you do not know anything about this Dream, how it works, or what it means?”

“I do not. It does not seem like a thing that should be able to work at all,” I said.

She did not comment on that before continuing. “April, I believe you are a good person. I think you made some questionable decisions, but I’ve read a good bit of what you have written about the Carls and I think it is good. I appreciate you being a calm and level voice when you easily could have been dangerously inflammatory. That being said, if you discover anything else, I’m going to send you a phone number that you should call immediately. You appear to be at the center of this. I very much want us to be on the same team.”

Somehow, that last phrase sounded simultaneously like a beautiful gift and a very real threat.

“Thank you, Madam President,” I said, my voice shaking just slightly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I can’t guarantee an answer.”

“Of course,” I said. “It’s just, is this possible? Is any of it possible? Are you . . .” I wanted to ask if she was afraid. If I should be afraid. Publicly, my mind was made up. I’d chosen a course and I would stick to it. But in the back of my brain, I also knew I had been infected by an impossible dream, and that most space alien movies ended with wars. But instead I just didn’t say anything.

“April, I’m going to make you wait on my answer. You’ll hear along with everyone else. I have to go now. I’d very much like to meet in person. Hopefully that can be arranged sometime soon.” And then she hung up.

Andy, somewhat unsurprisingly, was still on the other line. I clicked over.

“DUUUUUUUUUUDE,” I said.

“What just happened?” he said, his voice brimming with excitement and confusion.

“Not only did I just talk to the president, I think I just got scolded by the president like she was my middle school principal. I don’t know why that seems weirder than hanging out with a space alien robot, but it does.”

“What was she pissed about?”

“Oh, y’know, just the whole communicating with aliens and providing them with gifts on behalf of my country and my species and my planet instead of letting someone qualified and authorized make that call?”

“That makes a lot of sense now that you say it out loud. Are we going to prison?”

“Hah. No. But I got the feeling that, if we do this again, we will have some very powerful enemies.”

“The most powerful,” Andy shot back.

“I suppose that is not an exaggeration,” I replied. “She said she was about to go on TV to give a speech about the Carls. I assume it’s streaming somewhere.” I popped open my laptop and, indeed, people were anticipating the speech, which had been announced about an hour earlier.