Credit: Stuart McLachlan

I folded my paper again, feeling my way towards a familiar shape. Jiji-san watched me over his cooling tea. I said carefully, conscious of his poor memory, "That's when the Om appeared." Well, metaphorically speaking, since we had never met them. "We still don't know what they call themselves. We named them Om, after the enlightenment mantra found in Hinduism and Buddhism. We got radio transmissions telling us where to find usable wormholes. The descriptions were in Unicode – the universal character set used by virtually all computers on Earth – which implied that someone out there had been watching us and knew how to communicate."

"I remember," said Jiji-san.

I nodded, pleased. "We know the transmissions aren't of human origin. No Earth nation has this kind of technology. We'd know if they did. There are still some cults that think the Om are gods."

I remembered my first telescope. How many other kids had grown up like me, imagining the other creatures that shared our universe? To my surprise, most people had accepted the idea of extraterrestrial life – welcomed it, even. I smiled and said, "It's exciting to know someone's out there, after such a long search. Anyway, we're sure these messages are from sentient nonhuman life, but we can't figure out where they are. We can trace the messages to different wormholes, but not through them."

"I studied Buddhism when I was young. Zen Buddhism, not Nichiren."

I paused at the non-sequitur. "I know."

Jiji-san didn't appear to have heard me. "It was when I was building Yukio. I meditated to relax. Buddhists seek a state of nothingness to find enlightenment. I learned to lose myself."

I waited, not sure what to say. Jiji-san sipped his tea. Finally, I said, "Here's the thing. The Om sent a message – said they learned Unicode from Destiny 14 as it travelled past the Oort Cloud. They said they'd placed a small wormhole in Earth's orbit, and that one of our satellites – XR-43, a small weather satellite – would pass through it in 11 days. We made defence preparations – many people feared they were hostile – but there was nothing to defend against. We didn't even know how to reply. We triangulated the message's origin to a point near the Moon. As far as we can tell, there's nothing there. Or at least, we didn't think there was."

"Yukio, are you paying attention?" asked Jiji-san.

"Always, Taro-sama," Yukio responded instantly.

"I want you to listen too. If I forget things."

"Yes, Taro-sama."

I addressed the computer. "Yukio, you know that this is sensitive information, correct?"

"Of course," he said. "I will keep it inaccessible to anyone except your grandfather, as promised."

"Very good," I said. Talking to my grandfather was foolish enough. Adding Yukio to the equation probably wasn't any worse.

Jiji-san began folding a new sheet. "Go on."

I finished the paper tiger, set it down and sipped my tea. "So, they told us to watch the satellite. Sure enough, at the predefined time, it jumped – about 500,000 metres out of orbit, at a 90 degree angle from its usual path, and then travelled normally in its new orbit. At first we thought it was a time travel phenomenon, but Tharavaad's Law ruled that out.

Analysis of the satellite proved that the material hadn't aged any differently; Dr. Tharavaad proved that time travel was impossible for anything larger than a quark."

Jiji-san had produced a paper sheep, and started a new animal. I said, "You're listening to me, aren't you, Jiji-san?"

My grandfather didn't answer. I looked at the top of his head, bent over the origami. His fingers trembled as he pressed them to the table, his creased hands softer reflections of the paper folds. I took another sheet to distract myself from the sight.

Yukio said, "I am listening, David. Your grandfather has been less able lately. His nerve cell count is dropping and he has developed several new amyloid plaques in his cerebral cortex. It is sad, but not unexpected. I do not mean to remind you of sorrow, but…"

"I know," I said. Jiji-san had been predicted to pass away a year ago.

"Tell me instead," said Yukio. "I am not as wise as my creator, but I will do my best."

My confidence was fading. My appeal to Jiji-san now seemed useless. But I'd gone this far; I might as well finish. "The Om tell us that a living creature won't survive a wormhole, but an AI can. Experiments with mice confirmed this fact. So we've observed wormholes and sent probes through them. They've been taking us further and further each time. The last one actually got a probe halfway to the Andromeda Galaxy."

"What's the problem you need solved?" asked Yukio.

I cleared my throat. "Well ... it depends on who you ask. Some of my bosses are willing to wait for the Om's guidance – like we were preschoolers, which I suppose we are, to such an advanced race."

"I see," said Yukio. "But you want something else."