WITH THE CONSTANT TIRADE of media coverage on the obelisk, Wednesday came quickly for them. Ears was working his networks, and he had gotten approval to splash the message about the new format to potential listeners.

Thus far, he had lined up multiple experts, and many others were coming out of the woodwork. Beyond ‘The Welcomer,’ as he called the Reverend, Ears had received commitments from four others to whom he had assigned pet names: Poison Paul, the nuclear physicist who was suggesting tactical nukes in response to the impending invasion; Eugenie Driver, a renowned gene drive specialist advocating to accelerate the pace of humanity’s hybridization; AlexG, an astrophysicist with interesting perspectives on calling out to friendly aliens as protectors; and BioEthel, a bioethics expert from MIT with a radical message that humanity’s lifespan was coming to an end.

“A great start,” he mused as he closed his laptop and set out to drive to Peter’s house. Although the Red Line could get him there faster than hassling with road traffic, Ears avoided the subway for the same reasons many varints did – they were often teased or had stinging epithets thrown at them by non-varint bigots on the subway.

Ears arrived at Peter’s house at 3 p.m., an hour before the podcast was to air. Peter let him inside and they both took their pre-podcast positions. Prior to this podcast, Ears always assumed he was there as wallpaper. His degree was in materials science, so he understood the topics, often more so than Molli, but she wasn’t shy or self-absorbed like him. Indeed, Molli’s personality was the opposite of that.

“That’s why we get along so well,” he concluded, unaware he spoke out loud.

“What?” Peter questioned, peering above his screen.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“Did you develop a set of questions I can ask the preacher man?”

“Yeah, here you go.” Ears handed him a folded sheet of paper.

“Great, thanks. Hey, how does the line-up look for the coming weeks? You’re working with Molli on that.”

“Wow!” Ears exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “You can’t believe how active it is. People are contacting me, not vice versa.”

“Why?”

“I used my amazing networking skills to extend the mailing list beyond our normal listeners. Got lists from my geedee friends, and I’m seeing good responses.”

Peter looked pensive. “Isn’t that illegal or something? Sharing lists?”

“No. These are people who agreed to other types of marketing. It may be stretching the spam laws but not breaking.”

Peter teased, “Dude, don’t put me in jail. I’d take you with me, you and Molli, and we could wash plates together in the cafeteria.”

“I don’t sense they have co-ed prisons. Co-ed dorms, yes. They haven’t made it to prisons yet, though it’s worth considering.”

“Proof that not all ideas are good ideas,” Peter joked. “Glad you’re working with us on this. I can’t wait to see the results.”

They heard a knock at the garage door.

“Come around,” Peter shouted, “and leave the door unlocked. I don’t want our Reverend friend perceiving this is a dangerous neighborhood.”

Molli sauntered into the room as he finished his sentence. “You were saying?” she inquired.

“Nothing, not important. Hey, where’s the outline?”

“Give me a minute to boot here, antsy pants. There is an outline, if that’s what you’re implying, but it’s all guesswork because I haven’t heard back from the dude. And remember this format change was your idea, so if the chips fall badly, Ears and I are pure on this, got it? It’s all on you.”

Ears chimed in, “Even if this one bombs, the coming line-up is something special. Molli’s scanned it, so feel free to bomb-away this time, Peter. I’m guessing we’ll see a huge turnout given my advanced marketing of the show.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Molli agreed. “Can you monitor the online stats? We’ll capture them, but I can’t pay much attention while I watch Mr. Talent and his righteous religious guest discuss our mutual salvation through science.”

“Yes, it will be equally interesting for me,” Ears added. “I should’ve worn my Star of David, but it rubs against these ears.”

“I bet,” Peter mumbled, lifting his eyes above the screen. “By the way, are both of you monitoring the new chronicles of anarchia?”

“What’s that?” Molli asked.

“Also known as social media. Anarchy is the only name I can use right now for the disarray, rabble rousing, and disorder. It appears the world has not taken well to the boring little announcement last week from our buds north of the border. Given the lack of any new official news, I’m seeing only speculation, outright fear, and worry. I wouldn’t want to be a Boston cop right now.”

“Trust me, those guys have seen everything,” Molli pointed out. “I was talking to my friend, Sal, on the Cambridge force. He said they caught a bunch of varints and non-varints having a cellophane and shortening party in three RV’s. They circled the wagons in a parking lot and had a good old time, apparently. How could they envision they wouldn’t get caught in a town this small?”

Ears interjected, “Nothing wrong with a little plastic wrap, nudity, and cooking grease, right?”

Molli chuckled, “Public space was their problem. The music was loud, and college kids were walking by.”

“You’d think they’d want to join in the festivities. I certainly would have when I was in college,” Peter joked.

Molli nodded. “No doubt. I’m sure your little butt has been to more than a few of those parties in your day, and perhaps you were even at this one, no? But the point is, they can handle it. I have high regard for what our Blues tolerate, and it gets tougher every second given what’s cooking in the menagerie.”

Minutes later the doorbell rang. Peter ran out to greet the Reverend and walked him into the studio to introduce him to Ears and Molli. The man was portly with a broad face and big smile. Perfect white teeth presented themselves spectacularly, gleaming at every spoken word, and black-dyed, slick-backed hair perfected his image. In short, the Reverend Jeremiah Storm was a human tornado of flesh and energy.

“Reverend,” Peter started after they covered the mechanics of the podcasting process, “we didn’t get to discuss the outline for the show. Normally, I’d just ask away and you’d respond like we’re in a regular conversation. Since it’s a half-hour podcast, including the intro and tail and ads, we’ll plan on twenty minutes of talk time. Good with that?”

The Reverend laughed. “You bet. I got that since my own show has over a million listeners and viewers tuning-in every week. I’ll speak on my interest in science and why I appreciate your podcast. Filler should take up a little of that time and, by the way, give me the signal if I’m speaking too fast since I have much to say.”

“Will do, will do,” Molli confirmed.

She couldn’t recall a more boisterous and animated personality on the show and worried if the aftereffect of this interview would further damage their declining ratings.

“3-2-1, you’re live,” she whispered, pointing to Peter.

The intro jingle played, and Peter gave his typical lead-in with a notice that this was the first show with the changed format. He asked his listeners to expand their views of what constituted science, recognizing the many unknowns in the universe, and that the prior week’s revelations on the obelisk were pertinent examples of that universal truth.

“Well, sir,” Peter remarked, “it was you who contacted me a week ago, just after my SETI expert was suddenly called away. Honestly, I first saw no connection between this show on science and technology to your domain of religion and Christianity. Can you provide us insights on what your attraction was to our podcast?”

Molli felt like jumping out of her skin and knew she’d need to restrain her impulses through this one. She was turned-off by anyone claiming dominion or entitlement over anything, especially if it was inferred from any ancient book’s writings.

Having started martial arts when she was young, she had experienced multiple instructors and masters who preached a gospel about their art being the only true one, or the best, or the most aligned with illustrious historical teachings. Some of those claims were just and right, but this type of narrative was typically used to instill fear in students to ensure they didn’t venture to the competing school down the street where they would hear the same story. In contrast to those early experiences, she was pleasantly surprised when she found, while in college, the low key, low pressure approach of internal Chinese martial arts.

The Reverend breathed deliberately, as if he was on stage revving up for his megachurch sermon.

“I love this show, young man, and thank you for letting me speak today. I indeed know it’s a stretch for you and your loyal listeners, most of whom may not be practicing Christians or members of any faith whatsoever. Please bear with me, as my preaching genes will naturally elevate themselves in my neocortex. Compre?”

Peter laughed out loud. “Sure, compre, which I believe means ‘comprehend’ to everyone else.”

“Indeed,” the Reverend continued. “About the obelisk, let’s get right to it. I won’t tell you why it’s here. I won’t discuss the Book of Revelation, and if I mention Jesus Christ our Savior at all, then please give me the cut sign, Molli. No, I am not here today to imply anything about world religions relative to this object. In fact, I just finished more research on the Bible, that fine book, and I’m hard-pressed to align any of its predictions and prognostications to this obelisk. That I can tell, there is no reference to a platinum-gold obelisk falling from the sky in a carbon-based shell, although there is a reference to the stars of heaven falling to Earth. But we should not be thinking this is the god Baal or anything intended to for us to worship. And if you watched the old movie with that gold encrusted, wooden beast, I don’t see Charlton Heston descending from any mountain with holy obelisks in hand.”

“I compre on that, too,” Peter concurred with a grin.

“Here’s my view. I am a man of the cloth, and that was my destiny from childhood. I’m no more interested in experiencing the end of humanity than the next person. Life’s not that bad, not for many of us. We have many minuses, offset by pluses, however, and I don’t figure the balance has shifted much over the centuries, do you?”

“I can’t speak to that,” Peter confessed, “but I can say science has advanced over the centuries, though we humans are pretty sucky about using it to our benefit.”

The Reverend repeated him. “Sucky. I like that, though I keep trying to get to my wits here, and words are getting in the way. Cutting to the quick. In what I’ve seen of the events since this Canadian revelation, if I can call it that, too many people are spouting off with too little information and too little faith, mind you, and getting uber-upset about this little old object. We know nothing about where it originated, when it left its place of origin, and whether any little green men or otherwise are gussying up their saucers for an invasion.”

The Reverend waited for a response from Peter, who motioned to continue. “I will say this,” the Reverend maintained. “It’s a mighty big place, this Earth. If you’re ant or an amoeba, it’s even bigger than you could comprehend. And then to us, the solar system looks doggone big, much less the Milky Way and our place on this little spiral arm. Go one magnification greater, and that candy bar galaxy of ours is just one of billions of which we are aware.”

“You’re getting at?” Peter wondered.

“I’m getting at the surprise factor and religion and this abundant human flaw called ethnocentrism. At no time did I ever preach that human beings are the exclusive sentient animals in the universe. In fact, I don’t know if any of my brethren ever stated that either. If you put your feet in God’s shoes, to speak metaphorically, why in heaven’s name would you create such a dad-blasted amazing array of planets and galaxies out there and not do the same as what you did here? It doesn’t make a lick of sense to do all that work for only one experiment. He could have held this party in one solar system and not gone to the trouble of manufacturing the rest.”

Like Molli, Peter was squirming at the religious direction of the conversation. “Of course, this podcast focuses on the non-religious interpretation of science and physics and how the universe got its start, as in the big bang kind. It’s not clear to me, however, what you meant by ‘surprise factor.’”

The Reverend sat back in his chair which moaned loudly from the weight of the man. Molli motioned him to move forward toward the microphone.

“That’s just it. We are watching reactions to this news around the world, and fear is rising, big time. Speaking of that, I was rowdy when I was a youngster, and I ventured near death too many times. After that tenth time for me – I’m a slow learner, son – something clicked in my head and called me to realize I might not live forever. Now, I’ll not describe what happened after that, but my point is that fear is an easy thing to get worked up about, closely coupled with doubt. I’m encouraging people to have faith in their ability to get through this unusual time, whatever their idea of faith may be. In other words, don’t let the surprise of this knock you off your rocking chairs, folks. Everyone should be less reactive. We’ll make it through this okay.”

He paused, and Peter interjected his thoughts. “Yeah, we avoided covering the news this week since the media is all over this. It’s disconcerting for sure, seeing the long lines at gun shops and more people carrying weapons on the streets, much less the anarchy that appears to be breaking out globally. I’m hoping it will subside soon, once we see how real the threat is and whether this obelisk is legit or a very effective hoax.”

“Hoax or not. Fear is rarely good, rarely good. Virtually never. Love, well love, now that’s good, which gets me to my final point, and one I communicated briefly when you and I first spoke. As much as it might sound naïve, if we invent a host of volatile defenses to protect ourselves against this heathen from the heavens, we most certainly will come to a rapid end.”

Peter’s eyes opened wide. “Yeah,” he echoed. “Our own self-created end, I assume you mean. Can you explain this comment about love?”

“I’d ask your listeners to consider this. With the science we have today, everything we could imagine creating is looking to be possible for us, whether now, in the near future, or just a little longer. Given this, should we be serious about putting up a defense? I mean, I dig shoot-’em-up sci-fi just like everyone else. In fact, I’m an avid VR gamer aficionado. Just love that thumb and wrist action. But seriously, bullets and bazookas will be ineffective compared to our personal defensive weapons in a hundred years, though this heathen might die laughing when we try using either of those. Multiply that tech times a billion more years, then we’re into stuff we can’t imagine, not even close. So, whatever we’re considering in terms of defense, it’s darn shortsighted to believe we could hold them off for two seconds if they were aliens of the unkindest type.”

“I’m still not clear on the love connection. What’s that? Oh, and a minute remains to close.”

The Reverend laughed, thinking an analogy would be most appropriate. “I like that, love connection. You ever seen a freshman dog trying to join an established pack of wild canines?”

“Don’t remember,” Peter answered, shaking his head.

“Well, I’m not comparing us to dogs, and I have three fine ones by the way. The new canine either tries to fight the pack leader for dominance, or it rolls over and exposes its belly. That signals to the leader ‘I ain’t going to fight you; only want to join-in and get along.’ I’m suggesting that same approach.”

Peter frowned at this remark. “You mean the aliens show up, and the eight-plus billion of us roll over in unison?”

“Ah, you must be an old church boy to use that term. You hit the nail on the head, though. We need to pause before raising our pistol or sending our first missile through the thistle. Consider how it could arouse the anger of that old lead dog. In this case, he is certainly lathered-up in defenses and weaponry many light-years beyond what we have in our arsenal. I’m not talking little ray-guns that zap us one at a time – not unless they’re the sporting type. In fact, there’s speculation the obelisk glyphs referred to nanobots. Not sure about you, but they could well wipe every face off this planet with a little spray of this or that self-replicating subatomic plague. We’d never get to fire the first rifle or particle beam because we’d be extinct before they placed their first Neil Armstrong foot on this lovely planet of ours.”

Peter clasped his hands above his head. “Okay, okay. I see. Show them some love because we’re dead if we don’t. We could be dead regardless, but it’s worth a try, right? Just to let you know, Reverend, we internally called you ‘The Welcomer’ because we perceived this was your general direction. Is it?”

“Got it, son. That says it all. Welcome them and hope for the best. May be our only option. Now, I need to get on out of here to my little divinity conference at the college, but I sure appreciate you letting me speak my piece. There’s a human behind this persona who is just a kid hoping we can do our best and move God’s creation forward in a good way.”

He paused momentarily. “Son, if we get the chance, we may want to reciprocate here. I’ll get you on my broadcast with slightly more robusity in audience size.”

All four laughed aloud at his last remark. Peter did his usual wrap-up, and they said their goodbyes to the Reverend.

“Holy crap!” Ears shrieked. “I was so enthralled with this guy and his theatrics that I forgot to watch the stats. Jesus! Look at this.”

“Oh, my God,” Molli gasped. “Unreal.”

Peter was too nearsighted to see Ears’ screen clearly.

“What does it say?”

“Forty-eight thousand and change. It climbed from the start, and ninety-four percent stayed to the end. Unheard of. Normal drop-off is twenty percent, and that’s from our own list of four thousand?”

“Wait!” Peter reeled back in his chair. “Do you think it comes from you scouring those other geedee lists?”

Ears pondered for a second. “Can’t be just that. No way. I simply sent out double our normal list size.”

Molli remained stunned. “What if our good Reverend informed his million-strong flock of his presence on our show?”

She clicked to the megachurch’s website. “And there you have it, dudes. His front page shows he’d be on our podcast. We’re likely getting one-timers who happen to love their good shepherd there and a few new legitimate listeners from the geedee community whom we hope will come back for more.”

She frowned playfully at Peter. “Don’t start thinking you’re the next millionaire late-night talk show host. This was a onetime blip, bub.”

“Oh, my God,” Ears cried aloud. “I’m checking the socials. What traffic. Houston, we are a hit!”

Molli removed her headphones and stood up.

“Let’s calm down, kids, and analyze this. I’ll try to interpret what is happening, and I want you two songbirds to listen for a minute.”

She paused and put her hands together as if praying. “We’re capitalizing on fear. Now, I don’t mean that in a negative way, but I want us to understand what’s driving the interest. People are coming off a unique revelation from the sky, as the Reverend indicated. Everyone is afraid, and like he also said, everybody and their brother wonders how to protect themselves. Me, personally? I’ll kung fu them as they approach with their little laser rays,” she smirked, “but everyone else is getting worried sick. I don’t see this subsiding for a while.”

“Which is exactly why we’re working our line-up,” Ears interjected.

She stuck out her tongue halfway, then pulled it back in. “Who’s on board so far again?”

“In order,” Ears began, “and these are my pet names, you understand. Poison Paul, then Eugenie Driver, and after that is AlexG, then BioEthel.”

“She sounds like carbon-neutral gasoline,” Peter joked.

Ears ignored him. “After BioEthel, we’ll do Control Freak.”

“Who’s that?” Molli wondered.

“A gent speculating the obelisk is of human creation to create anarchy, ultimately leading to authoritarian control.”

“A crackpot?”

“Nope. Legit, but doesn’t want his identity exposed. You guys okay with that? These topics and people are so sensitive, we may need to use my pet names or similar in our marketing and show notes. We might even use voice mods for certain guests who request them. After all those personalities, we have OmniBev and a few others lined up,” Ears concluded.

Molli furrowed her brow at the last name, begging for a response.

“She’s into human-mammal hybrids,” he added, “Making the argument for a sensible path to avoid impending doom. She mentioned ‘a deflection that avoids detection’ or something like that.”

“Whew, a regular Barnum and Bailey line-up. What a great start!” Peter proclaimed, wiping his brow.

Ears peered back at his vidscreen. “Oh, hell’s bells, as my grandma used to say. Houston, we have a problem, too, with the emails coming in. Over four hundred in just a few minutes. Long-time listeners appear irate about our preacher friend.”

Molli glared at both of them. “Got our work cut-out for us. If more listeners drop from our base, and assuming the shepherd’s flock doesn’t appear again next week, our numbers may plunge deeper in the dumpster. Ears, can you work your amazing magic and do extra marketing for the upcoming shows? That’ll help keep the ratings in place. I don’t want us to shut this poor old podcast down when it feels we’re on the cusp of something moderately interesting.”

Ears smiled and stroked his born ears with both hands. “When it comes to marketing, Ears is a Houdini. We’ll make up for any loss of this week’s stalwart fans. Got to get started on it now, though. This interview was great, by the way, and you held up well, Peter, considering the topic. See you guys.”

“Wait!” Peter yelled. “I just received a text on my phone that said to check the show’s email.”

“Who from?” Molli quizzed.

“An unknown number. Ears, before you leave, can you do a quick scan?”

They went back to their screens.

Ears had a worried look. “I see different ‘sent from’ addresses with the same header that reads: ‘Take Care Who Speaks There, or Risk Losing Your Noggin Below the Hair.’”

Molli shook her head in disgust. “Another gutless idiot with fingers on the keyboard. Geez, do I get pissed at these cowardly loons with nothing better to do.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “But I can’t recall anyone threatening to separate my head from my body because we changed our format slightly.”

“They’ll want it for cryo-freeze,” Ears suggested. “You always tell us, and sometimes the audience, unfortunately, what an outstanding science wizard you are. If you make yourself that attractive, somebody will take the bait and want to AI-copy your mental matrix.”

Peter ignored his comment. “But my personal cellphone? I’ve never gotten that kind of nasty note via text.”

Molli grinned and held out her hands. “If you need a personal bodyguard, Peter, I’m cheap and not bad-looking. They’ll never know what hit them.”

“This one feels different, but I can’t say why,” he complained.

“People are off their nut in the last week,” Ears proclaimed. “I’m telling my chums to be vigilant and avoid anything that looks like a fight or a reason to get into one. Caution is the topical word until this alien attack insanity blows over. See you later."