An Absolutely Remarkable Thing

An Absolutely Remarkable Thing Plot Summary

Introduction

# The Gravity of Carl: How First Contact Changed Everything The night April May stumbled across the ten-foot robot in samurai armor standing motionless on 23rd Street, she had no idea she was about to become humanity's accidental ambassador to the stars. What started as a viral video of her interviewing the mysterious statue she dubbed "Carl" quickly spiraled into something far more profound when identical robots appeared simultaneously in sixty-four cities worldwide. Within hours, April transformed from an exhausted graphic designer into the reluctant face of first contact, thrust into a global spotlight she never sought but couldn't resist. The Carls, as they came to be known, brought more than just their imposing presence. They brought the Dream—a shared consciousness that spread like a virus through human minds, connecting millions in collaborative puzzles that seemed designed to test humanity's capacity for cooperation. But they also brought division, fear, and ultimately violence as the world split between those who saw the visitors as salvation and those who viewed them as invasion. April found herself at the center of this ideological war, her every word scrutinized, her every action potentially determining humanity's fate.

Chapter 1: First Contact: The Night That Changed the World

April's MetroCard failed at the worst possible moment. Sixteen hours of soul-crushing work at a startup designing interfaces for apps nobody needed had left her drained, walking the empty streets of Manhattan at three in the morning. That's when she saw it—ten feet of gleaming metal and ceramic armor, standing perfectly still on the sidewalk like some fever dream of ancient Japan meets science fiction. Most New Yorkers would have walked past without a second glance. April almost did. But something about the figure's stillness, its impossible presence, made her stop. She touched the surface, finding it neither warm nor cold, then called her friend Andy Skampt, a skinny art school graduate with an eye for the absurd. "You have to see this," she told him, already pulling out her phone to record. "I'm calling him Carl." Within minutes, Andy arrived with his camera, and they filmed what would become the most viewed video in human history. April interviewed the silent statue with genuine curiosity, her natural irreverence cutting through the strangeness of the moment. They posted it online and went home, expecting maybe a few hundred views from fellow art students. By dawn, everything had changed. Identical figures had appeared in cities across the globe—London, Tokyo, São Paulo, Lagos—all at the exact same moment. Security cameras had mysteriously malfunctioned during their arrival, replaced by static containing faint traces of Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now." April's phone exploded with notifications as news networks played her video without permission, and suddenly she found herself the only person on Earth who had documented first contact. The calls came flooding in. Television producers, government officials, scientists, conspiracy theorists—everyone wanted to talk to the girl who had named the aliens. Andy's lawyer father negotiated licensing deals worth tens of thousands of dollars while April tried to process that her life had just been turned inside out by a chance encounter with the impossible.

Chapter 2: Viral Fame and the Dream Infection

Within days, April had quit her job and signed with a talent agent. Her natural charisma translated perfectly to television, where her authenticity cut through the noise of cable news panic. She appeared on talk shows, gave interviews, and built a massive following of people who saw the Carls as an opportunity rather than a threat. But fame came with a price. Her girlfriend Maya, a talented designer who had been April's anchor in their shared apartment, watched with growing concern as April transformed into a public figure. The pressure of constant scrutiny began fracturing their relationship, even as April's star continued to rise. The mystery deepened when Maya discovered strange typos on Wikipedia's page for "Don't Stop Me Now"—typos that couldn't be corrected. Every time they fixed one error, another appeared. The missing letters spelled "I AM U," and when Miranda Beckwith, a materials scientist from UC Berkeley, analyzed the pattern, she realized the Carls were asking for specific chemical elements. That night in Los Angeles, April and Miranda brought americium and iodine to Hollywood Carl. The moment April pressed the elements against the statue's hand, it detached with a soft click and scurried away on its fingertips, racing down Hollywood Boulevard like some metallic spider. They chased it to the Magic Castle, where it disappeared inside the exclusive magicians' club. By morning, every Carl worldwide had lost its right hand simultaneously. The president called April personally, her voice carrying the weight of a nation suddenly confronting the reality of alien contact. "If you are aware of an alien life-form and are planning on taking actions based on that information," the president said with careful precision, "that would be a fantastic thing for the government of your country to be aware of." Hours later, the president addressed the nation, confirming what April already knew: the Carls were extraterrestrial, hovering micrometers above the ground, completely immovable. First Contact was official, and April May was its unlikely herald. That same night, April experienced her first Dream—a shared consciousness that would soon spread across the globe like a virus, connecting millions of minds in collaborative puzzles that seemed designed to test humanity's ability to work together.

Chapter 3: Divided Earth: The War of Believers and Defenders

The Dream changed everything. Millions of people worldwide found themselves sharing identical nocturnal experiences, exploring a silent city filled with puzzles that yielded fragments of hexadecimal code. The phenomenon spread through physical proximity, making measurable changes to people's brains. Some called it evolution; others called it invasion. Peter Petrawicki, a conservative pundit who had quickly published a book called "Invaded," led the growing resistance. His Defenders painted the Carls as harbingers of doom and April as either a dupe or a traitor to humanity. Their first televised debate was a disaster for April, who found herself unprepared for Petrawicki's professional provocations. "How does it feel to sell out your species?" he asked, his voice dripping with practiced concern. "These things are in our minds now, and you're telling people not to worry?" April's response was passionate but clumsy. When Petrawicki veered into personal attacks about her sexuality, she was left stunned and speechless. The girl who had stumbled upon Carl with genuine curiosity was being forced to become a political warrior, and she wasn't sure she was winning. Meanwhile, her personal life crumbled. The pressure of fame and the constant demands of her public role drove a wedge between her and Maya. In a moment of panic and selfishness, April chose her career over their relationship, moving to a new apartment overlooking New York Carl. "You're not just April anymore," Maya had warned her. "You're becoming this persona that belongs to everyone else." But April was already too deep to turn back. She created the Som, a platform for Dreamers to share their discoveries and collaborate on the alien puzzles. Every mention in her videos brought thousands of new users, and the platform became the primary hub for humanity's attempt to understand the Carls' message. The divide grew deeper. Defenders stockpiled weapons and spread conspiracy theories while April's followers countered with messages of hope and unity. Both sides claimed to represent humanity's best interests, but neither could see past their own convictions. April found herself hardening, her videos becoming less about wonder and more about winning an ideological war.

Chapter 4: Blood and Fire: The July 13 Attacks

The world shattered on July 13th. Coordinated terrorist attacks targeted the Carls in São Paulo, Lagos, Jakarta, and St. Petersburg, killing hundreds of innocent bystanders. The Carls themselves remained unharmed, their impenetrable forms unmoved by the explosions that tore through the crowds around them. That same morning, April awoke to the sound of glass breaking. A bullet had pierced her apartment window, missing her only because something had shoved her aside at the last moment. In the chaos that followed, she discovered Hollywood Carl's missing hand hiding in her furniture, its metallic fingers curled protectively around itself. Hours later, determined to show solidarity with the victims, April ventured into the crowd gathering around New York Carl. With Andy filming, she delivered an impassioned speech about humanity's resilience, her voice carrying across the sea of faces. She never saw Martin Bellacourt emerge from behind her, knife raised. The attack happened in seconds. The blade pierced April's back, but before it could go deeper, something extraordinary occurred. Bellacourt's body suddenly collapsed, his skin darkening as his internal organs liquefied into a grape-jelly-like substance. Andy's camera captured the moment before smashing into the attacker's dissolving face. "Carl killed him," the president told April later in her hospital room, her voice heavy with implications. "Whatever the Carls are, they've now taken a human life to protect yours specifically. We need to understand why." The revelation shook April to her core. Why had Carl saved her when he'd allowed hundreds to die in the coordinated attacks? What made her special? The question haunted her recovery, even as it fueled the Defenders' claims that she was either complicit with the aliens or being manipulated by them. The attacks transformed the global conversation. The Defenders gained momentum, painting the Carls as selective killers who would eliminate anyone who threatened their chosen spokesperson. April's movement struggled to maintain its message of hope in the face of such violence, and April herself began to question everything she thought she knew about the visitors she'd championed.

Chapter 5: The Final Sequence: April's Unique Connection

As April recovered from her injuries, she finally revealed the secret she'd been carrying: she alone experienced a different Dream sequence featuring a mysterious airplane. This "767 Sequence" seemed to be the key to unlocking the final puzzle, the culmination of all the Dream's collaborative mysteries. Working with the global Dreamer community through the Som, April discovered that the hexagonal patterns on the plane matched the button layout of an accordion. When the melody was played—Carly Rae Jepsen's "Call Me Maybe"—the plane's landing gear descended, allowing April access to its interior. Inside, she found Mayan numerals that unlocked a series of dials, revealing a passkey. When entered into the compiled code from all previous sequences, it produced coordinates to a warehouse in New Jersey and five ominous words: "Only April. No One Else." The discovery coincided with devastating betrayal. Robin revealed that Jennifer Putnam, April's agent, had been representing both April and Peter Petrawicki all along, playing both sides for profit. Worse, the Defenders claimed to have solved the 767 Sequence independently and were already moving on the information. Against all advice from Maya and the president, April decided to go alone. She livestreamed her journey to millions, arriving at the abandoned warehouse to find the door ajar and grape jelly residue on the ground—evidence that Carl had prevented someone else from entering. Inside, David Bowie's "Golden Years" played from a small office upstairs. As April approached, the door slammed shut behind her. Smoke began filling the room. The warehouse was on fire, and April was trapped. Her livestream captured her growing panic as she realized the truth—the coordinates had been falsified by Defenders who had infiltrated the Som's code. The fire spread rapidly, consuming the building. April broke a window and jumped, shattering her leg on impact. As she lay on the concrete floor, the ceiling collapsed. A burning beam crashed through her skull, tearing away half her face. In her final conscious moments, April found herself in the Dream lobby. But instead of the robot receptionist, Carl himself stood before her, speaking for the first time in a voice clear and resonant. "Your story just started, April May," he said as everything faded to black.

Chapter 6: Vanishing Point: When the Carls Departed

Andy stood on 23rd Street, pressing Miranda's gold earring against Carl's surface while talking to April on the phone as she lay dying in the burning warehouse. Around him, dozens of people had gathered, offering their own jewelry and coins to the statue in response to April's final broadcast. Suddenly, Hollywood Carl's hand skittered down the street at incredible speed, reattaching itself to New York Carl's wrist. The statue's arm shot upward, as if grabbing an invisible point in space. With a deafening crack that knocked Andy to the ground, Carl vanished, leaving only a vacuum where he had stood. Across the world, at that exact moment, every Carl disappeared simultaneously. The Dream ceased instantly for everyone experiencing it. Whatever test the Carls had set before humanity appeared to be over, and the results remained unknown. Emergency responders fought to reach April in the burning warehouse, but arrived too late. The building had collapsed entirely, and in the smoldering ruins, they found no trace of her body. The three Defenders responsible for the trap were arrested and charged with attempted murder and arson—but not murder, as no remains were ever recovered. The Defenders movement collapsed in the aftermath. Even Peter Petrawicki distanced himself from it, moving to the Caribbean to pursue other ventures. The world began the slow process of returning to normal, though nothing would ever be quite the same. April's friends scattered like seeds in the wind. Miranda returned to Berkeley, Robin moved back to Los Angeles, and Maya embarked on a nomadic journey around the world. Only Andy remained in New York, unable to leave the place where it all began, clinging to an irrational hope that April might somehow return. Months later, sitting at his desk and trying to write about what they'd all experienced, Andy heard a knock at his apartment door. His phone pinged with a text message from a number he never expected to see again. April May: Knock Knock

Chapter 7: Legacy of the Stars: What Remains After Contact

The Carls' departure left humanity fundamentally changed. The shared experience of the Dream had connected billions across language barriers and national boundaries, forcing cooperation on an unprecedented scale. Even in their absence, the visitors had accomplished something remarkable—they had shown humanity both its capacity for division and its potential for unity. April May became a symbol more powerful in disappearance than she had ever been in life. Without her voice to define her message, people projected their own meanings onto her story. Some saw her as a martyr who had sacrificed everything for humanity's future. Others viewed her as a cautionary tale about the dangers of fame and the seductive power of being chosen. Books were written, documentaries filmed, theories endlessly debated. The mystery of her vanishing body only added to the mythology. In university lecture halls and conference centers around the world, Andy Skampt became the reluctant keeper of April's legacy. He spoke not of aliens or conspiracies, but of a young woman caught between worlds—between fame and anonymity, between certainty and doubt, between being a person and becoming a symbol. His message was simple but profound: April had just wanted people to see each other as humans first, to remember that what we are together is far greater than what any of us can be alone. The world moved on, as worlds do. New crises emerged, new celebrities rose and fell, and life continued its relentless forward motion. But something fundamental had shifted in humanity's understanding of itself. We were no longer alone in the universe, and we could never return to believing we were. The Carls had come to observe, to test, to witness what we might become when faced with the infinite. What they found was beautiful, despite all its flaws—a species capable of both terrible division and transcendent cooperation, often simultaneously. And somewhere, perhaps, April May's story continued, just as Carl had promised her in those final moments. For those who knew her best, the knock at the door represented not an ending, but a beginning. Whatever came next would be written not in the language of fear that had divided humanity during the Carls' visit, but in the shared vocabulary of wonder that had briefly united it. That, perhaps, was April's true legacy: not the answers she discovered, but the questions she taught us to ask together.

Summary

April May's journey from anonymous designer to humanity's reluctant ambassador ended not with answers, but with transformation—both personal and global. Her story became a mirror reflecting humanity's capacity for both unity and division when faced with the unknown. The Carls had tested not just our ability to solve puzzles, but our willingness to work together despite our differences, and the results remained tantalizingly unclear. The mystery of April's disappearance and the Carls' sudden departure left the world forever changed. We had glimpsed our potential for transcendence through the shared experience of the Dream, even as we had demonstrated our talent for self-destruction through fear and violence. In the end, perhaps that was the point—to show us who we are when the universe is watching, and to leave us with the choice of who we might become when it looks away. The knock at Andy's door suggested that some stories never truly end; they simply wait for us to be ready for the next chapter.

About Author

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Hank Green

Green interrogates the intersection of science, fame, and the internet through his multifaceted career and writings. As a science communicator, Hank Green crafts content that demystifies complex topics, making them accessible and engaging for broad audiences. His method includes leveraging multimedia platforms, such as the educational YouTube channels SciShow and Crash Course, which he co-founded, to reach millions globally. These platforms not only educate but also engage viewers, inviting them to explore the role of technology in modern life. His approach is reflected in his science fiction novels, notably his debut book, "An Absolutely Remarkable Thing", which delves into the implications of sudden viral fame and the impact of digital culture on personal identity.\n\nIn addition to his written and video work, Green's entrepreneurial ventures further his mission to support and empower creators. He co-founded DFTBA.com and VidCon, the latter being the world’s largest online video convention, to build a supportive community for digital content creators. These initiatives provide vital infrastructure for artists and educators to thrive in an online ecosystem, fostering a collaborative environment that benefits both creators and consumers. Readers and viewers gain a deeper understanding of how digital culture shapes our world, thanks to Green's innovative educational strategies and commitment to science literacy.\n\nRecognized as one of America’s leading science educators, Green’s influence extends beyond traditional media. His ability to synthesize science with social issues in his novels, such as "A Beautifully Foolish Endeavor", invites readers to reflect on the ethical dimensions of technological progress. This blend of entertainment and enlightenment ensures that Green’s work resonates with diverse audiences, offering insights into the societal shifts driven by the digital age. Through his varied endeavors, Green continues to shape the conversation around education, creativity, and the future of digital interaction.

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