“Intelligent life – while rare – is always growing and dying across the universe. But, it takes a long time for intelligent life to evolve, and none of the universe’s civilizations have ever existed at the right time and place to receive communications from the other civilizations. Just as a handful of sailors clinging to small boats scattered across the Pacific Ocean might never hear each other’s cries.”

The video stops, and James Carlos Cates sets the tablet on the table. Ellie Endsley absently moves the bowl of sugar cubes, making more room for the device. She is seated opposite Cates, at an out of the way bakery on Austin’s south side.

Their waiter approaches and sets a muffin in front of each of them. Around the waiter’s neck is a sign that reads, “Forgive me: I’m not comfortable with eye contact or small talk. But I am eager to serve you, and I am proud to have baked your treat today. What can I get for you?”

“Thank you,” Endsley says, but the young man does not respond. He stands examining the table for a moment, then turns quickly and disappears into the kitchen.

“Obviously I’m familiar with Dr. Scott’s work,” Cates says, nodding at the tablet. “Yes, we’re working on creating a network of self-replicating drones that can continue to share a record of what he have learned here. They can also serve as a relay station for communications and data collection, as long as we can hold out.”

Endsley shifts her weight uncomfortably, and leans in closer, which seems to give her some relief.

“That’s my concern,” Endsley says. “First, its very doomsday-ish. It’s like sitting down with your father to discuss his funeral arrangements. And, even if you must open up this can of worms, using him as a messenger is only going to pick the scab of that Forever Children business.”

Cates breaks his muffin in two, then tears the top off of one half. “Forgive me, I haven’t eaten today.” He chews a bite with relish, then shoves in another hunk and washes it down with a swallow of iced tea.

“This will be a small gathering,” Cates says after he sets his glass back on the table. He told Endsley all of this earlier, and he is growing impatient. “It’s just going to be local economic development people, banking friends, and some of Britt Collins’ network. Most of the very small group are fired up about the site selection for the International Law Enforcement Training Center, and they think our tech investments and space industry can help.”

“I understand,” Endsley assures him again. Her muffin sits untouched. “And they probably think that winning China’s buy-in will be critical to the facility’s mission.”

Cates watches Endsley closely, wondering how much she knows about Cates’ work with Collins’ firm. He finishes the last of his iced tea, and the waiter arrives almost immediately to fill the empty glass.

“I’m going to have the power smoothie highlighted on the board. You want one?” Cates asks. Endsley shakes her head.

“May I have one?” Cates asks the waiter.

“One what?” the waiter asks, his eyes remain focused on the table; his voice is even and unstrained.

Cates looks confused. “The power smoothie listed on the board,” he responds, pointing behind the waiter to the digital board above the counter.

The waiter leaves without responding, and Cates looks at Endsley, as if to say, do you know what’s happening here? A few moments later, they hear the sound of a blender in the kitchen, and Cates appears to relax.

He takes the last bite of his muffin and pops it in his mouth. He holds his napkin in front of his mouth, so he can speak while he chews.

“In my opinion, my job is to make it clear that I will work to secure the law enforcement project, and make sure they know about Gonzo’s land deals,” Cates says. “I welcome your counsel on how I should deliver those messages, or your recommendations on other messages that I should be sharing.”

Endsley is saddened to see Cates so inflexible regarding Dr. Scott’s participation in Cates’ event, but she recognizes that Cates is the candidate, and it’s unwise to push too hard on a person who has to stand out front and present himself for public display. She decides to try once more to move him in another direction.

“When Dr. Scott’s paper on manning space missions with people who have suffered severe brain trauma went viral, people were angry. All that crazy talk about the development of AI and the benefits of developing it with reduced capacity humans living in conditions outside of our atmosphere.

“The internet hordes spent months mocking his ideas. If you use him to represent you, you’ll own all of that confusion about his methods and his motivations. While they have more friends than enemies right now, the enemies are more willing to be vocal than the friends. And they’re making enemies so quickly.

“They’ll tag you with those problems at every turn,” Endsley says with finality. She holds her hands in the air, indicating that she will say no more.

“What’s your solution?” Cates asks, as the waiter returns and sets a smoothie on the table. Cates’ aggravation with Endsley is obvious, and his harsh tone seems to agitate the waiter.

The waiter turns from the table, then turns back and picks up Endsley’s glass of tea, which, like her muffin, is largely untouched.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Endsley assures him. But the waiter seems confused, and he finally walks off with Endsley’s tea. She raises her eyebrows at Cates, who seems unsettled by the strange interaction.

“Vitch offered to get Ben Bernanke down here, if that would help,” Ensley offers. “He would be great with that group.”

“Thank you,” Cates replies, “but we will move forward as planned. Please tell our friend that I am grateful for his support, and I hope we will continue to be allies for many years to come.”

Endsley sees that Cates’ mind is elsewhere. He seems distracted by the waiter. Cates stares as the young man unloads a tray of croissants into the glass case near the register.

Their time together is almost expired, and they haven’t covered a fraction of the issue that they should have covered. Cates is moving too quickly, Endsley worries, suddenly frightened by all she doesn’t know about him.

“Is this where I’m supposed to be?” she wonders.

Cates holds up his glass and stares closely at the contents. He appears to be about to take a drink, when he startles Endsley with an abrupt, almost whimsical comment:

“I just can’t let go of the idea that we – human beings – are the evidence of life that was left behind by another species. We are the self-replicating network. After all, if your goal was to communicate to the universe that there is intelligent life, all of us on Earth are doing a decent job of making as much light and noise as we can to get the universe’s attention.”