2026, June 4th. 8 weeks since the space station showed up. No activity at all from the aliens, since they scanned the internet. Many wonder why. Yet, independence day is celebrated with fireworks, and more in the USA. As a message... the first radio message ever sent from the alien space station, is received. It's in english formatting, this does not surprise people, they did scan our internet, but... the surprise... was the day it came, and its contents. "Hello humanity. After consideration by our team, we have decided to introduce ourselves officially on this day, and simply ask you to get a meeting setup with your united nations in at least 3 months. We will arrive via our own means, so pick whatever way you want. We will send out our agent to watch your internet to learn of the time, location, and specifics, and show up ourselves. Otherwise, we will just show up at your white house, like that alien movie you like so much. Joking, but seriously, prepare." Many eyes went wide at the easy to see reference to Independence Day, the fact they sent the message on the 4th of July, and referenced a movie where aliens show up, and blow up the white house. It causes sensations everywhere. Hours after... IT departments reported detecting the signs of the fox virus moving through the internet. However... this time it was quiet, no computer errors, just... silent detectable presence.

2026, June 8th, 4 days later. The General Assembly hall was nearly at capacity, with rows of fatigued diplomats scanning their notes or peering at the lines of text on their tablets. Each face reflected the tension that had gripped the building over the past several days. Outside, the sun was already setting, painting the Manhattan skyline in shades of orange and pink, but inside these walls, no one seemed to notice the passage of time. Everyone was consumed by a single, pressing question: how should humanity respond to an extraterrestrial invitation that could redefine civilization?

The Secretary-General, a dignified woman in her mid-fifties, shifted in her seat as she glanced around the vast auditorium. Her usual composure had begun to crack under the weight of the endless debates. Countless speeches had been made, some measured, others veiled with nationalistic undertones, all competing for influence on what had already been termed "the greatest diplomatic challenge in human history." Leaning toward her aide, she whispered her exasperation. She couldn't help but imagine the aliens, high above the planet, silently judging humanity's capacity—or incapacity—to reach consensus.

When the Russian delegate rose to speak, his measured, deliberate tone captured the attention of those who had drifted into quiet side conversations. He was a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and an air of cautious authority. "Our position remains that the United Nations headquarters, though respected, is tied too closely to the United States. If we aim to present ourselves as a unified species, we must choose a location free of geopolitical baggage." Though he did not raise his voice, the emphasis on "unified species" echoed through the room. Many delegates nodded in agreement, while others exchanged uneasy looks. The question of neutrality had been raised a dozen times already, yet it continued to dominate the discussion.

Across the hall, the French ambassador leaned in and pressed the microphone switch, her voice cool yet forceful. She was known for her rational analyses, and tonight was no exception. "Symbolism is critical, I agree. But let us not overlook the resources we already have here. This building, this institution, was designed to represent the international community. The aliens explicitly addressed the United Nations. We can hardly dismiss that fact merely for the sake of symbolism. Practicality, right now, must be our guiding principle." Her words were direct, and the final sentence cut through the murmur of hushed translations like a blade, drawing the attention of lingering doubters.

The Chinese ambassador adjusted his glasses before speaking. He was a veteran of countless negotiations and seldom allowed emotion to filter into his words. Tonight, however, the slightest hint of tension lined his face. "We cannot ignore the context of the aliens' message. They referenced the White House, a potent cultural symbol. This reflects their apparent comfort with Western narratives and pop culture. We must ensure that, in meeting them, we do not grant one nation undue influence simply because of historical or cultural familiarity. If we are to stand united, we must be mindful of both substance and appearance."

The U.S. representative, a middle-aged man with graying temples and a sharp gaze, listened intently. Though he had maintained a calm exterior, his voice betrayed a subtle frustration. "Respectfully, Ambassador, the aliens mentioned the White House in jest. Their actual request was to meet with the United Nations. To infer a preference for American authority is to project our own biases onto a scenario that is, in fact, unprecedented. We owe it to ourselves to take their words at face value: they want the UN. This place is not perfect, but it's the closest we have to a global forum."

The Secretary-General rose slightly in her seat, searching the hall with a measured yet insistent gaze. She motioned for quiet, her fingers lightly tapping the microphone in a gesture that exuded both authority and fatigue. "Distinguished delegates, we must not reduce this moment to a scramble for symbolic advantage. The entire world is watching, and every passing hour leaves the aliens—and our own citizens—questioning whether humanity can unite under extraordinary circumstances. If we cannot decide on something as basic as a meeting location, how can we expect them to trust our capacity to engage in meaningful dialogue?"

Moments later, the Kenyan delegate stood. He was one of the younger ambassadors, well-respected for bridging ideological divides. A hush fell as he cleared his throat. "Esteemed colleagues," he began, his voice carrying a clarity that commanded attention despite his relative youth. "We are focusing so intently on place that we risk forgetting our purpose. The aliens reached out to us collectively. The reason they used the phrase 'united nations' is likely more than rhetorical convenience—it is a recognition of what we could be. Not what we have been." The stark honesty in his tone rippled through the hall, and for the first time in hours, it seemed like many were truly listening.

He paused, scanning the crowd, aware that every pair of eyes was on him. "They have, in some sense, validated the idea of international cooperation. It is incumbent upon us not to dishonor that by bickering over who gets the credit or who has the upper hand. The question is not whether New York is perfect, because it isn't. The question is whether we can function as a single body, despite our imperfections." For a long moment, no one moved or spoke. Even the usual buzz of whispered translations seemed subdued.

The tension was palpable, but it carried a different quality now—one that suggested that perhaps the delegates were at last reaching the limits of their debates. The Secretary-General, noticing the shift, gently tapped the microphone again. "If we believe the aliens intended to speak to us as one people, then we must act in a manner consistent with that. Let us settle this so we can move on to the actual substance of what an interplanetary dialogue means. Our time is not limitless, and neither is our credibility."

A smattering of applause broke out in the back rows—an unusual display of emotion in a formal UN session. Several ambassadors exchanged glances, and a few weary delegates nodded in concession. The Secretary-General allowed the moment to sink in before calling for a vote. Despite lingering reservations, the majority agreed to hold the meeting in New York under the auspices of the United Nations. A small number voted against, citing reasons of neutrality or historical grudges, and still others abstained, perhaps unwilling to commit to a course so fraught with unknowns. Yet the final tally was clear: the meeting would be held at UN Headquarters on August 18, 2026. 41 days from now.

When the final numbers were displayed, it was as though the air in the chamber changed. It was not relief exactly; it felt more like resolution. Diplomats began to rise from their seats, gathering papers and exchanging hushed words as they prepared to exit. The Secretary-General sat back, pressing her fingers to her temples. A sense of gravity had settled over the hall, tempered by the faintest spark of hope. They had made a decision, incomplete and contentious though it might be, and for now. As the meeting continued for a long time, as they discussed structure, and preparations. As well as what is known about the aliens.