Sarah Majeskie WoB Short Story Contest entry 10/30/2025
Alone In The Universe?
“Breaking News! Scientists have confirmed that the object that crashed into a field a few days ago is indeed a form of alien technology.”
I look up from my desk at my coworker, who blares the latest news from his phone. He catches my glare and quickly lowers the volume. I sigh and refocus on decoding the golden disk from the crash. People had speculated about other intelligent life, but most avoided the topic for fear of controversy
“Gretchen? Working hard or hardly working?” I recognize the deep voice, the one that has a slight tip-up after every word.
“Hi Earl,” I reply with less enthusiasm than a scientist should have after a breakthrough.
“Any progress?” By the tone of his voice, I can tell he isn’t expecting any.
“Maybe if that object hadn’t completely imploded on impact, perhaps there would be some,” I mutter. I slide my notebook across my desk so he can see. I have a few ideas, but if I presented them, I know I would be laughed at.”
He looks over my scribbled diagrams and equations for a few moments before asking to see the disc. I hand it over
“Look,” he says while pointing at one of the diagrams. “You’re missing a piece.”
I take the disc back and examine the pictures in the top left corner. It resembles a rectangle, but with a point on the bottom, perhaps a shard of crystal.
“What sort of intelligent life would create something with two parts,” I ask, “but only one of those parts can withstand a crash?” My voice comes out sharper than intended.
“Hey, don’t ask me,” Earl says, raising his hands in mock surrender I examine the disc again, tracing my finger over the fine grooves.
“Can you take this to Tom?” I ask suddenly. “Tell him to make a needle that would trace these grooves.” Earl nods and takes the disc from me, carefully holding it with both hands.
As he leaves, I search our archives. Since building our first radio, we've received signals, all of which are stored in a database. No one could interpret them, so they're cataloged under 'Unidentified Sources.'
Although we didn’t know what the signals meant, we recorded frequencies, strength, and velocity, among other things.
Then something catches my attention.
The most recent signal, received 23 years ago. The trajectory aligns almost perfectly with the one before it. I pull up more, scrolling back through the years. All of the signals, no matter how faint or distorted, trace back to the same point in the sky
They all come from a single star, 1 billion miles away. I scribble down my findings and practically sprint to Earl’s office.
“Earl! I think I may know where that disc is from!” I proclaim with nervous excitement. I shove my notepad into his face. He takes it from me, completely unfazed. Earl looks over my notes and chews on the eraser of his pencil.
“It does make sense,” He says while setting the notepad down on his desk. “Once Tom gets you that needle, maybe you can work on decoding it,” He adds before handing the paper back to me.
I move a little closer to his desk, and I fidget with the ring on my finger before asking. “Do you think it's possible?”
He looks at me with an almost pitiful look. “Gretchen,” he sighs before continuing, “You know I don’t believe in other life, it’s hard for me to give you help when I simply don’t think it’s true.” My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “However,” he says, “if you’re right, and that's a big if, this could change everything. Not only for science, but for life as we know it.” He smirks faintly and lets out an amused huff. “But I'm guessing you already thought about that.”
“Did Tom tell you when he would be finished with the needle?” I ask quietly
“Soon,” Earl replies as he leans back in his chair, the springs creaking under his weight.
“Well, thank you,” I say while turning to the door Before I can twist the handle, Tom walks through the door, wearing a grease-smudged lab coat and holding a small box.
“Here's that needle you asked for,” Tom says while holding up the box. “It was an interesting challenge; those grooves were delicate. I've never seen anything like it.”
Earl gestures for Tom to set it down on the desk. “Perfect timing,” Earl remarks. “Gretchen was about to convince me aliens exist.”
Tom chuckles while setting the box in front of me. “Aliens, huh? Well, whatever made that thing certainly isn't from around here.”
I open the case and see the perfectly pointed needle nestled on top of soft filling.
“Oh, and here’s that gold disc back,” Tom says as he pulls the disc out of a neat white bag hung on his shoulder. I take it from him and hold it with both hands. I gently grab the small case and slide it into my pocket.
“Thank you both, I appreciate it,” I say before leaving Earl’s office.
I walk down the pale, bland halls back to my office, disc and box safely on my person.
A sudden idea hits me. I redirect my route to Tom’s Lab. I walk into the large observatory Cranes large enough to move one of our small moons, and boxes with piles and piles of scrap piled in a corner, greet me, along with the smell of thick black oil. I see Tom poking at some small object at his desk all the way in the corner. I make my steps a little bit louder than normal so as not to scare him.
“Hey, Gretchen,” he says without even looking up from his project.
“Hi again,” I say as I peer over his shoulder. Only then does he pause and meet my gaze. “Can I borrow some scrap?” He peers at me over his large nose and gestures to the boxes littering the floor.
“Have at it,” he replies before stretching his long arms above his head.
I thank him and begin to rummage through the boxes on the floor I pull out a few pieces of metal. Once I've grabbed enough, I use the bottom of my shirt to hold it all. When I turn around to thank Tom again, he seems lost in thought. I exit the observatory without saying anything instead. Back in my office, I begin to tinker
I attach the needle to a solid base, creating a stylus of some sort. I then attach a thin piece of scrap to stick out upward onto a large, smooth flat base. I eye the wind-up chick toy on my desk, a party favor from Earl years ago.
I swiftly disassemble it and apply the gears, rods, and discs to my creation. I insert the wind-up mechanism. While stepping back, nothing falls apart. I turn the winder a few times and let go. When I see that the base begins to turn, I could almost cry with relief. After a moment, it stops moving. I gingerly pick up the disc. While taking a deep breath, I align the small open center of the disc with the piece standing upright. Very carefully, I let the disc slide down and hear a faint click. I'm afraid I may have stopped breathing. I move the stylus and position the needle to lightly rest on top of the disc's grooves.
I turn the winder again, over and over until I can’t anymore. I let go, and the disc begins to spin. After a brief moment, sound begins to flow out of the disc. Words of some sort, things I can’t understand. The winder slows down and stops after a few minutes. I try to reconstruct the sentences. Using my own mouth to repeat the sounds I hear, I write down a phrase.
“H-ell-o f-ro-m t-he ch-il-dr-en of E-ar-th.”
It takes a few seconds for me to realize that I actually did it. I say it out loud, “Hello from the children of earth,” I say, trying to enunciate every letter. Luckily, without even needing to walk to his office, Tom walks through my door.
“I'm on lunch, so I thought I would stop in,” he drawls. He notices my scrap metal contraption and the pink fuzzy remains of the wind-up chick toy on my desk. “What's going on here?” He asks.
“I finally did it! I got it to play, and I know what it’s saying!” I exclaim, gesturing towards the less-than-elegant contraption. “Hello from the people of Earth, isn't that wonderful?”
“You should send something back,” Earl responds.
We brainstorm for a bit before deciding on something simple, non-threatening, modeled after the messages on the disc.
“Greetings from the scientists of Edith. We have received your golden disc. Our inhabitants are kind, we wish you safety.”
The door opens to our satellite center, and blinking lights greet me. I hold my notebook close to my chest and walk through the halls. A young woman with a kind smile greets me. Her pink hair gleams in the dim light.
“Earl told me you were coming. I can transcribe your message into radio signals if you’d like?” She gently takes my notebook from my grasp and looks at the message. “This is easy enough,” She says while beginning to walk over to a giant computer. I follow close behind her. I notice her nametag, Nala.
“I really appreciate it,” I say as Nala begins to code the message to be sent. She hits enter, and a loading screen appears. A green sliver appears at the left side of the bar and slowly expands. I lean against the wall.
Earl comes into view, panting and clearly distressed. “Gretchen, the board is not happy about this,” he rasps, “They sent security to shut this whole thing down.”
I look back at the loading screen; about three-quarters of the bar is filled. “Well, they can’t do anything once the message is sent,” I say.
“I suppose,” Nala says with a shrug of her shoulders, “as long as they don’t get here before it’s done loading.”
Security appears around the corner, walking calmly, but with a presence that sends children running—four massive figures, all identical, walking in pairs.
Nala quickly walks up to them and pleasantly asks if she can help them at all. They give her concise smiles before proceeding to walk around her and begin to move towards us. The screen reads 93% finished.
“Alright then, let's shut this down, shall we? Direct orders from the board,” the grunt at the front of the group says. Earl takes a step back, muttering something under his breath.
I quickly step in front of the control panel. “Please, you don’t understand,” I plead, “If I don’t send this message, our planet will be alone in the universe forever without any help.”
Earl nods quickly, “She’s right, it may seem silly to you, but our planet is deteriorating, we’ve been here for so long it can barely keep up.”
The computer screen reads 98%. The man looks at me, then Earl, then Nala. “I can say we were too late,” He says before motioning the other three guards to walk away.
The remaining three of us watch the bar reach 100%.
The console flashes once, and the screen fills with a cascade of coded symbols. A pulse of green light flickers through the room as the signal launches into the void.
For a long moment, none of them speaks. Then Nala lets out a breath and smiles faintly. “It’s done,” she whispers.
Outside, the transmission antenna hums like a living thing, sending our message to the stars.