AmEarth

That same evening, Peter Johansen was at the crisis management center of the AmEarth Central Authority in New York City. It was located in the former United Nations headquarters next to the East River, with its design inspired by famed Swiss architect Le Corbusier. The center of the ACA was a huge room with soaring ceilings; the AmEarth logo was plastered on the wall above the dozens of monitors with live feed images from around the world.

The logo was a colorful rendering of planet Earth covered in a larger honeycomb-patterned sphere a few inches wider, overlaid with the letter A. Dozens of ACA agents worked in the room at all times, giving it the feel of central command for the old Apollo missions—nervous academics with rolled-up sleeves and ties.

Peter felt hungry on that cold Friday evening. Most of the monitors contained images from the streets of Bolivia. In one of the larger monitors, the central square of Bolivia’s old capital city, Sucre, held the partially collapsed supreme court building; a massive metal piece of a multi-colored spaceship extended from the caved-in roof. The debris was still smoking. On another monitor was the face of the president of Bolivia, Emilio Saldivar. He looked distraught and tired. Peter was also tired and had removed his coat and tie hours earlier.

“Mr. President,” Peter spoke, trying to get a word in edgewise.

“I tell you, the whole world will…” President Saldivar ranted.

“Mr. President! Please, stop. Stop!”

The president of Bolivia finally ran out of steam and began to listen. Peter wasn’t in the mood for fighting with a sitting president, and he intended to solve this issue quickly.

“Mr. Saldivar, you are no longer in a position to bargain. If you look at your country, there is mass disinformation being spread. That could potentially get very dangerous, very quickly. You must immediately address your population and tell them what you now know. It is your duty as a leader,” Peter argued, walking a fine line between advising and bullying.

“I can’t. It is treason for me to join AmEarth. I don’t care if Argentina and Chile have done it. We in Bolivia are different,” Saldivar shot back angrily.

“Mr. Saldivar, there was an extraterrestrial missile impact on your doorstep. Literally. It is sitting in the middle of Sucre’s main square. The population has seen it and your troops can’t hide it. This is undeniable proof that the alien civilization exists. Not only that, but they could land in your country as a first step. You don’t have a missile-defense program that could withstand an invasion from space. If you do not join AmEarth, how can you protect your people or make them feel secure? Your army?”

Saldivar looked down at his console, acknowledging his country’s inadequacy without words.

“The only solution is to prevent them from entering our atmosphere. That is our hope. What if they don’t come to invade? What if they instead send a deadly virus or disease? They will pass through your airspace and your beloved Bolivia will be ground zero for the end of life as we know it. You will be the open door that lets them in. Your people will be the first to die.” Peter dropped the pitch of his voice for the last statement, and he could practically feel them striking Saldivar.

“I…” Saldivar stammered.

He had always been a strong man, but his knees were knocking under his desk. He didn’t even have the strength to stand up.

“Mr. President?” a Bolivian general said as he entered from the right side of the screen. The general bent and spoke into Saldivar’s ear.

“What is it?” Peter asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” Saldivar said with a dismissive wave.

Peter gestured to Marsha, his assistant, to get him something to eat.

“What is it?” Peter demanded. “Does this have anything to do with the ship landing?”

Saldivar hesitated for a moment before answering. “Yes. The people have entered the ship and are taking pieces with them. They have begun to dismantle it.”

“Like a car in a bad neighborhood?” Peter was legitimately shocked. An alien spaceship had landed in the heart of their city and they’d decided to scrap it by hand.

“Yes,” Saldivar replied quietly, seemingly ashamed.

“What will your decision be? Do you want to stay in the Dark Ages? Do you want to be the one who let them in? Even North Korea is part of AmEarth!” Peter roared, feeling the president’s opposition weaken.

Saldivar hesitated, giving Peter space for one more push.

“Mr. President, you will retain your culture, religion, and assets. This is not about money,” Peter said, taking a slightly pleading tone.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Saldivar stared dead-eyed into the camera.

Peter smiled. “You’re a wise man making a wise choice for your people. Sign the form online. We can be there in four hours.”

Saldivar placed his thumbprint on the glass screen of his monitor, prompting an executive order that allowed AmEarth to annex Bolivia—effective immediately. The entire process took less than ten seconds.

“Emilio—” Peter used the president’s given name for the first time ever—“you can kiss poverty good-bye and kiss being the pariah of that continent good-bye. You will see an immediate transformation of your society for the better. You will be remembered as the father of Bolivian AmEarthism. Welcome.”

From the corner of his eye Peter saw Marsha gesturing to him that his meal was ready. She also flashed him a sign on a piece of paper that said ETA 30 minutes.

“One more thing, Emilio. I’ve just been informed that the four-hour window has been reduced,” Peter informed the president.

“Really? When will your men be here?” Saldivar asked, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.

“Thirty minutes! I need to go, Mr. President. Thank you for making the right choice.”

“Thirty minutes?” The president seemed shocked, as though there was so much to do in so little time.

“It seems that the heads of AmEarth wanted to make you a priority today.” Peter disconnected the link.

It was a good day for AmEarth. Bolivia, the thorn in Latin America’s side, had at last been removed. Bolivia was now aligned with the new world system. A veritable army of AmEarth consultants, military personnel, alien recovery teams, and government bureaucrats would descend onto that small country in the next few hours. Every piece of the alien craft would be recovered and all unemployed Bolivians would be immediately offered jobs. This AmEarth deployment also carried many advantages. Satellites in the air would immediately turn on wireless Internet capabilities and in a few days the country would essentially be online, entering the twenty-first century and becoming a new entity devoted to the protection of the Earth. The majority of the jobs would be entry-level building jobs dedicated to the construction of the huge honeycomb “roof” that would eventually cover the entire globe.

Bolivia would soon be educated and integrated as a part of the AmEarth community and would have an express ticket into the history of intelligent life in the universe and all the astronomical and physical details necessary to comprehend what was really happening on Earth. AmEarth knew that the main resistance would come from orthodox religious groups claiming their holy books as science, but evidence of life outside their planet had shocked the masses into purging many of their belief systems. If their religion had not foreseen the fact that there were billions of stars in each galaxy and billions of galaxies in the universe, why would they believe the other tenets of the religion?

Many in Bolivia had already seen video footage and newsfeeds showing the deployment of the advanced world protection system. They would also have seen that only the AmEarth Navy was capable of installing the system over the oceans. This navy was largely composed of the former United States Navy, using its famed aircraft carriers. The world was deeply indebted to America and was reminded constantly of what the Am in AmEarth stood for. In these images and videos, long wires were stretched between huge ships that stood in pentagon formation. From a very high point, you could see that all five aircraft carriers would launch rockets at exactly the same time, raising a pentagon of cables up into the atmosphere. In space, these pentagons would be attached to other pentagons already “floating” there. Small shuttle ships would join them at the corners, and the remaining parts of the rockets would become antispaceship laser stations. The wiry material of the cables was made rigid with a super-freeze system, and held in that state by the icy chill of space. Videos and images of this system were a large part of the media campaigns that AmEarth continually presented; they were used in schools and universities worldwide, except in those few hesitant countries, like Bolivia. Now, the population in this Latin American holdout would have access to all of that information, as every worker was given a cellular communication wafer, which looked like a thin flexible sheet and offered a free wireless connection to the AmEarth Internet.

Peter went to the executive dining room, where his meal waited for him. Various assistants followed him into the room. They were jubilant and celebrating, but he was merely hungry. Peter had handled himself well during this “engulf,” the informal name coined for these situations. The fact that Peter, a deputy for foreign affairs, had dealt with the Bolivian president directly had worked wonders. This strategy had delivered a blow to Saldivar’s ego, as he was not even speaking directly with the supreme president. When AmEarth had incorporated the “great” countries of the past, it hadn’t been the result of the efforts of the foreign affairs department, but rather due to direct calls and anxious deals made between AmEarth’s supreme president, Neil Chen Tyson, and the heads of powerful nations like France, the United Kingdom, Germany, Russia, Japan, and China.

The trajectory that had led Neil Chen from being the frontrunner in the Democratic Party to win the nomination for president of the United States, and finally to his existing position as supreme president, was now legendary, and Peter saw Neil Chen’s career as the epitome of success in politics. In the final years of the United States, as it became AmEarth, the process had become less democratic, as country by country fell into the ranks and allowed itself to be absorbed by the new central command. The need for human survival trumped nationalism—and even democracy. The incentive for leaders to integrate with AmEarth was huge, as the new central government ruled over a vast amount of land and resources and its power became immense.

In the final decision-making stages, the former UN building was chosen as the logical point for the AmEarth Parliament. All the different nations, now regions of AmEarth, met in this parliament to enact new laws and keep global peace. The former leaders of these nations had become high-ranking members of parliament, often carrying more power than in their former positions. A president of a country like Italy could now be in charge of transportation for AmEarth and his contracts ranged in the billions of Orbs, making him much more powerful than in his previous post.

Control of any division of AmEarth was planetary and included knowledge about directives that AmEarth’s supercomputer was preparing for the survival of the species. Many of these directives would concern the optimal use of Earth’s resources, but the subjects it analyzed and advised on were endless. Knowing these global directives ahead of time could make a politician’s family very, very wealthy. For example, a directive on the need for manganese for the WPP could earn the owners of said resources somewhere in the trillions of Orbs. The higher-ups in the most developed countries controlled the majority of the important members in Parliament, but this was expected, and not every citizen on the planet was content. The underlying purpose was the survival of the species, the greater good, and then human happiness.

In that order.