22: Chapter 22 Press Conference

After President Trump posted his tweet, the hashtag #Ambassador of Guga Planet surged to the number one spot within four minutes, with #FirstContact following closely behind.

The comment section broke through one million replies within fifteen minutes.

"Mr. President! I knew it! I knew you would bring aliens to us! This is the greatest moment since Kennedy landed on the moon!"

"Wait. So, aliens are actually going to hold a press conference now? On Twitter? Like promoting a new movie? Am I still dreaming?"

"You're not dreaming, I saw it too. I also wish I were dreaming."

"I'm an astronomy enthusiast. My telescope is still pointed at the Kuiper Belt. The fleet is still there. They haven't moved. Now their messenger is going to hold a press conference. I don't know whether to be afraid or excited."

"Have you ever thought about one question: why does he want to hold a press conference in person? Why not just issue a statement through the President? What does he want to get from us?"

"Because he wants to bypass the government! He wants to talk to us directly! I feel like the government can no longer control the situation!"

"Or maybe he just wants to experience human social media; stop dragging everything into conspiracy theories."

"Ambassador of Guga Planet: Travels hundreds of light-years to reach Earth, and the first thing he does upon arrival is get dragged by the President to open a Twitter account and hold a press conference. This guy knows marketing better than I do."

"LMAO, even aliens have to chase clout when they arrive. It seems clout is the universal currency of the universe!!!"

"Will he answer our questions? Can I ask him if my children will be safe?"

"I want to ask that too. I don't care about politics. I just want to know if my family can survive."

"Will Elon Musk be at the press conference too??? The President said 'Only my leadership,' but Elon Musk posted a spark!!! He must know something!!!"

"If Elon Musk goes on stage and shakes hands with the Ambassador of Guga Planet, SpaceX's stock price could fly straight out of the Solar System."

The United States press office confirmed that tonight's press conference will allow reporters to ask questions on-site. It is currently unclear whether the Ambassador will answer questions or only issue a statement.

This is the first public, real-time communication in human history with an envoy claiming to be an alien civilization. Regardless of the outcome, tonight will go down in history.

"'Blue Star is about to be liberated.' Do you remember that sentence in Times Square? That wasn't a threat; it was a forewarning. Now he is going to explain to us personally what liberation means."

"I was in Times Square that night. I saw the fountain stop in mid-air with my own eyes. I believe every word he says."

"I have worked in the diplomatic system for thirty years. I have participated in countless press conferences. Never has there been a press conference held where one side had absolutely no idea what the other side would say, think, or want."

"President Trump said he made 'diplomatic efforts,' but between us and the other side, not even the most basic mutual understanding has been established. This isn't diplomacy; this is an expedition!"

AOC: "President Trump announced on Twitter that he invited the Ambassador of Guga Planet to hold a press conference, while emergency shelters in New York City are still packed with homeless people."

"The troops in Manhattan haven't withdrawn yet. Those ordinary people who were fired due to panic, lost their savings because of the stock market crash, and are losing sleep because the alien fleet is approaching—what can they hear from this Ambassador tonight?"

"Mr. President, do your diplomatic efforts include letting them sleep peacefully as well?"

President Trump: "The fake news media is attacking me again. They would rather see humanity fail than admit that I have made history. Sad!"

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7:59 PM Eastern Time.

The White House press briefing room. This small room with only forty-nine seats was packed with over two hundred people at this moment.

The aisles were filled with cameramen, and the platform in the back was lined with dense tripods, with every camera aimed at the podium.

The seats in the first row were labeled with the logos of various media outlets: CNN, The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Wall Street Journal...

Forty-nine seats represented almost every news agency on this planet that was still operating normally.

The media outlets without seats were crammed into the aisles and the back rows, with reporters holding up their voice recorders like pistils made of metal and black plastic waiting to be pollinated.

Everyone in the venue was speculating about this unusual press conference today; reporters exchanged guesses, photographers adjusted their camera angles, and assistants crouched in the aisles, confirming signals over headsets in extremely low voices.

At 8:00 sharp, the door to the side of the podium opened.

President Trump walked out, wearing a dark blue suit, white shirt, and red tie, his iconic blonde hair combed neater than ever.

He walked behind the podium and gripped both sides of the lectern with his hands.

He looked at the metal grid in front of him, composed of camera lenses, reporters' faces, and voice recorders, and smiled, "Ladies and gentlemen, good evening!"

"Tonight, I stand here, not as the President of the United States. Not as the leader of a political party. And certainly not as the President you have known over the past few years, through those news headlines, Twitter comments, and late-night talk show jokes."

He moved his hands from the sides of the lectern and placed them flat on the table.

"Tonight, I stand here as a father. A grandfather. A human who has lived on this planet for over seventy years, has seen many things, but has never seen anything like tonight."

A flurry of camera flashes lit up.

"Forty-eight hours ago, our deep space observation system discovered a fleet at the edge of the Kuiper Belt."

"Twenty-four hours ago, an envoy claiming to be from Guga Planet sat in the White House reception room and spent ten minutes emitting a sequence of sounds that even our top linguists and acoustic experts could not decipher, and then that fleet stopped."

He tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

"And this morning and at noon, I had meals with this envoy."

"I have seen him eat fried eggs, and I have seen him use a knife and fork; we had a very pleasant chat."

He lowered his hands: "Now, I am going to introduce him to you. Not as the Ambassador of Guga Planet, but as my good friend!"

He stepped back half a step to the side, turned toward that door, and made a 'please' gesture: "Let us welcome, with applause, the Ambassador of Guga Planet!"

The door opened.

Chen Mu walked out, wearing a charcoal grey suit, a white shirt, and a dark blue twill tie.

He stood behind the podium, while the President retreated to the side.

Chen Mu looked at the sea of camera lenses in front of him; behind the lenses were faces, and behind the faces were time zones.

Behind every face were countless other faces, and in every time zone were countless glowing screens, and on those screens was his face, illuminated by flashbulbs into a shadowless daylight at this moment.

"Everyone, good evening!"