AmEarth

Scott Johansen sat on the plush sofa of the den, ignoring his computer, slim goggles, and phone. He was watching the morning news to see how the Bolivia story was being reported. His mom sat next to him and they watched expectantly, hoping to see peter’s interview. Upstairs, peter was sleeping off a hard Friday night of work and subsequent celebrations. On the tv, the reporting was brief and it placed little importance on Bolivia, except for a quick explanation of how Bolivia was the final South American country to join AmEarth.

“And now, for a bit more on this story, here is a statement by the foreign affairs deputy, Peter Johansen of ACA,” the anchor said.

“President Saldivar was gracious and accepted the invitation to join the AmEarth alliance to improve the quality of life for the Bolivian people. Bolivians will now contribute to helping AmEarth to achieve the canopy protection system around the entire globe,” Peter’s recorded image said.

He was standing at a podium with the AmEarth symbol on it, in the gigantic lobby of the ACA office building; he was partially hidden by a large group of microphones in front of his face. The video cut to the next news story after those two sentences; they had used a very short segment of his rather extensive statement.

Scott and Barbara were both proud, but it was clear that they had been expecting more. Barbara was unaware of what Scott knew was missing from the story altogether. A few minutes later, Peter came down and met the two at the marble bar of the open kitchen, where Scott was anxious to talk to him.

“You were wonderful on TV, honey!” Barbara said first, giving him a hug and a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks.”

Scott sat silently, looking at his father, who returned the gaze with a questioning expression.

“Oh, right. Congratulations, Dad,” Scott said sourly.

“Thanks.”

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Why did the news ignore the alien rocket that crashed in Sucre?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I asked you first.”

“I happen to be your father, so you’ll let me know how you obtained that information right now.” Peter’s voice changed sharply. It was the tone that everyone in the Johansen family understood meant business.

“I…Well…It was Cate’s dad. I overheard him talking on the phone last night.”

“You went to Cate’s?” Barbara said.

“Yes, Mom. I always do,” Scott said, although this wasn’t exactly news.

“Listen, son, that information is highly sensitive. You cannot tell anyone that you know about the rocket landing in Sucre. No one. Is that clear?” Peter loomed large over his son. There was no mistaking how serious he was.

“Yes sir. I haven’t told anyone but you,” Scott stumbled to reply.

“Good, let’s keep it that way, all right?”

“Okay, but can you at least tell me about it? After all I’m your son!”

“Well, there’s not much to tell. Basically, a rocket bearing cultural and technical information from Kepler 3763 crashed in Sucre, Bolivia, last night. This rocket was launched sixty-seven 47 years agbut having it land there was lucky for us. It totally tipped the popular opinion, as Bolivians could see the truth firsthand.”

“So why wasn’t it in the news?” Scott asked.

“Because it’s not news. Alien ships have been landings for years now. You’ve been to the museum, seen their technology. Where are you going with this?”

The telephone rang in the kitchen. It was a large thin screen that turned on as soon as Peter said, “Phone answer.” On the TV, the familiar image of Neil Chen Tyson, the supreme president of AmEarth, stared back at Peter, Scott, and Barbara. He was a good-looking, half-Asian, half-Caucasian man in his mid seventies. Brianna was walking down the stairs behind them, braiding her long blonde hair as she approached her dad. Scott gestured to Brianna to stay quiet and gently caressed her hair.

“President Chen, I’m so sorry, we’re just getting up for the day,” Peter stammered.

“No need to apologize, Peter. I wanted to give you the good news personally. And now that you are here with your whole lovely family, here it is: I want you to become my minister of communications for alien affairs. The job has a clearance level of five, and you’ll be briefed by the WPP, NASA, and NSA. But you probably already know all this. Are you up to it?”

Without taking a breath, Peter answered, “I am.”

There was no hesitation or reservation in his voice. The two former American branches had kept their monikers, which began with the letter N for national, although they were now worldwide in their reach.

“Good, that settles it, then. Go about your job normally next week. I’ll make the ministerial change in the next shuffle, which I am preparing this weekend at Camp David. Don’t mention this to anyone until after my announcement. On Monday, my people will meet you at your office. Your new office will be…well I can’t say right now, but I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you for this opportunity,” Peter said.

“Peter, you deserve it. Good-bye now.”

“Good-bye, sir.”

The image switched off. The whole family was stunned. The president of 99 percent of the world was calling their home phone! They looked at one another other and something struck Barbara suddenly.

“Washington? Are we moving?” Barbara asked.

“No, honey, no. I doubt that Communications is located in Washington. Most ministries are in New York.”

“I guess we’ll know soon enough,” Scott said.

“Daddy, what’s a minister?” Brianna asked.

“In the old days, they were called cabinet members, but now they’re called ministers. Nothing to do with religion, Bri.”

“Why did they change the name, Dad?” Scott asked.

“Well,” Peter explained, “in the early days of the AmEarth expansion, the world was not ready for all things American, so some concessions were made to ease the transition. Words like minister were more common worldwide than cabinet member, so the AmEarth intelligence community changed things like that. The supercomputers developed for NASA were used to determine how best to achieve the desired outcomes of any given situation.”

“Was that how the name AmEarth got picked?” Brianna asked.

“You’re quick, Bri, but I’m actually not sure how AmEarth was chosen,” Peter admitted.

“Well, I think we should celebrate!” Barbara said.

“I’m so tired. Can we just stay in and celebrate here?” Peter implored.

“Absolutely, darling.”

Peter went back up to his room and lay down on the gyptian cotton sheets, resting his head on a down feather pillow. He remembered being selected for his first Foreign Affairs job back in 20171 when the second rump aAministration had started its power. Every year, he had moved through the ranks of Homeland Security, even as it changed into the Foreign Affairs Ministry. When he had started, the secretary of state had been Bernard Sanders but in 2022, when AmEarth created the ministries, his position had been moved to America’s greatest ally, Britain. For the next twenty-year stretch, Peter worked under former Prime Minister Cameron. He was an affable and good man and had run the department well. Cameron had stressed the importance of the alliance, obviously making sure that British interests remained in focus. He strove to make his people happy and this position helped Britain to retain many of its interests around the world.

As the years passed, Peter was cleared into ever-higher levels and passed all the required courses that AmEarth imposed on high-ranking officials. It was very important for the governing entity to jockey individuals with credentials up the ladder and Peter was excellent at this particular game. His only problem was that the ceiling in Foreign Affairs was the ministerial position, which would always go to a Brit. As things progressed in AmEarth, it became an unspoken law that the world was happy as long as everyone felt involved. So, as an American, Peter welcomed the move to Communications that President Chen had offered, as this nudged him into a ministerial position without the geographic problem he was currently facing. It seemed like the perfect choice at the perfect moment. For the first time in many months, he felt truly happy.