Close Encounters of the Zoom Kind by Martin Lochman
Godfrey loved Zoom meetings. To be precise, he loved conducting meetings virtually as opposed to in a stuffy board room with everyone shuffling chairs around, rustling through papers, or otherwise producing unnecessary distractions. Additionally, he found that it forced people to be more punctual (you simply had no excuse to be late when working from your living room). In short, he couldn’t say so out loud, but if there was one upside to this horrible pandemic, it was decidedly this, and a little part of him hoped that the company higher-ups would consider sticking to the current operating procedures indefinitely.
“Can you all hear me well?”
A rather unpleasant voice interrupted his silent contemplation. It belonged to Frank, the recently appointed head of media outreach. Despite his job title, Frank wasn’t exactly a tech-savvy type, but he was always eager to learn.
Maybe too eager.
“Yes, Frank, loud and clear,” Godfrey said into the microphone.
He scanned the mosaic of faces on the screen, noting with satisfaction that everyone who was supposed to attend was already here.
“Okay, everyone, let’s get started,” he said, adjusting his tie. “Today, we will be discussing–”
A soft ping notified him that someone else had just joined the meeting. Furrowing his brow, he displayed the list of participants, but even a more thorough glance only confirmed that his original assessment had been correct–which meant that this new participant was uninvited.
Looking back at the main interface, Godfrey was slightly annoyed to discover that they didn’t bother switching the camera on; furthermore, no name was displayed at the bottom of the corresponding rectangular thumbnail.
“Excuse me, dear newcomer,” he said, hoping that the way he addressed them didn’t sound too sarcastic. “Would you mind introducing yourself?”
No reply. The thumbnail remained black.
Godfrey counted to five in his head, then exclaimed: “This is a closed meeting. If you don’t have a sufficient reason for being here, then I am afraid I will have to disconnect you.”
He might as well have said nothing.
That’s it, he thought angrily after another few seconds had passed, and moved the cursor of his mouse to the top right corner to kick the newcomer out. Just then, however, the thumbnail finally coalesced, showing… well, something.
Godfrey had never seen anything so disgusting in his life. It remotely resembled a fish, or rather its head, but everywhere, with the exception of a mouth-like orifice and eyes set so far apart that they were both barely discernible from the forward view, it was covered in a thick, fluorescent slime. The viscous liquid appeared to originate from the top of the head and was very slowly flowing down, akin to a resin on a tree.
Several participants of the meeting silently oohed and aahed in surprise and shock, but Godfrey saw most of them put on an amused expression.
“Greetings,” the fish-thing said. Its voice sounded like two feet rubbing together.
“My name is Otteddetto Saggas. It is an honor to make your acquaintance. My original intention was to manifest myself on your planet in a physical form, yet regrettably, the lack of suitable transport prevented me from doing so. Nevertheless–”
“Who are you?” Godfrey asked sternly, having overcome the initial surprise. “And what are you doing here?”
Those might not have been the best questions to pose, he realized afterward, but they were all he could have thought of at the moment.
“As I have stated, my name is Otteddetto Saggas,” the fish-thing replied, and Godfrey could swear he had heard the confusion in its tone. “I wish to establish diplomatic relations with your species. I am aware that you are currently combating highly infectious disease, and for that very reason, I humbly offer–”
“I am going to ask you one last time,” Godfrey growled threateningly, but before he could finish the thought, a private message from his secretary appeared in the chatbox. Its content brought his fury to a more manageable level.
“Okay, okay, I get it now,” he said. “Very funny, although hardly original–the whole incident with the cat filter took place not two weeks ago. Now that you’ve had your laugh, it’s time for you to go, unless you actually have something to contribute to this meeting which I highly doubt.”
“I do not understand–our collaboration is of grave importance–”
One decisive click removed the unwelcome intruder from the screen. Godfrey took a deep breath, composing himself, and looked into his webcam.
“Now, as I was saying, in our meeting today, we will be going through the first five points of the proposal for Q1 2021. If you could kindly open…”
As he droned on, it occurred to him that perhaps the traditional, face-to-face conferences might have some advantages after all.
#
Several thousand light-years away from Earth, on a planet orbiting binary stars humanity had yet to discover, Otteddetto Saggas was quietly staring at the now-idle interface of its console. If it was human, it would undoubtedly be experiencing strong consternation, or perhaps even sadness, but since the members of its species were not burdened with such flexible emotional faculties, it was simply slightly perplexed. Why had it been met with such a dismissive reaction? It had followed their social protocol, properly introducing itself, answering all questions that arose, clearly stating its intentions–or at least attempting to do so. Furthermore, having spent centuries observing human civilization, Otteddetto Saggas knew that the first encounters had always been more successful when one of the sides “came bearing gifts”, and a cure for the simple, yet deadly viral affliction that was currently plaguing their world had appeared to be perfect for that purpose.
Clearly, there was a flaw in its approach, a flaw that required thorough reassessment and more data to amend. Otteddetto Saggas made a decision: it would attempt to contact the inhabitants of the planet Earth again, but at a later stage.
Fifty of their years appeared to be the ideal amount of time to wait.
—
Martin is a Czech science fiction and speculative fiction author, currently living and working as a University librarian in Malta. His work appeared (or is forthcoming) in a variety of venues, including New Myths, Kzine, 4 Star Stories, Theme of Absence, XB-1 (Czech SFFH magazine), and others. You can find him at: https://martinlochmanauthor.wordpress.com/ or Twitter: @MartinLochman.
