[ WP ] In 1977 , the Voyager spacecraft was sent out into deep space with a message from the people of Earth . Today we had it sent back to us .

`` By Hubble, will you look at that!'' Data scrolled at a furious rate across the Voyager mission terminals deep in a back closet at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory. After double checking the indicators, then rechecking again because he could n't believe it, mission specialist Alan Berkman bolted from his desk and up the stairs to the NASA Director's office. Wheezing and sweating from the effort, a reminder to Berkman that he'd spent too much time at a computer and not enough outside in his life, he barged into the Director's office with no regard for the meeting going on. 
 
 The Director stared at him with annoyance. `` What the hell? You scientists never seem to learn what's appropriate when it comes to office behavior!'' Berkman peered at the little man through fogged up glasses rimed with sweat, wondering obliquely how such an obtuse person could ever become head of the world's premier space agency. 
 
 `` It's Voyager,'' he said between gasps of air. `` She's beaming incredible amounts of data back to us! I do n't even know how, terabytes at a time are coming in. But it's Voyager's antenna without a doubt.'' 
 
 He might not be a scientist, but the director was at least smart enough to realize an old space relic from the days of black and white TV should n't be reporting much of anything these days, let alone a water flood of data. Years as a politician meant the director had contributed little to the pursuit of science and human advancement, but had gained him a keen sense of when his own butt might be in danger. `` Get me NORAD,'' the Director barked at his secretary, `` now!'' 
 
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 Air Force General Brad `` Buzzkill'' Tolliver stood in a sea of blue uniforms lit by the glow of hundreds of screens and the fluorescent lighting under the mountain. Deep within NORAD's headquarters under Cheyenne Mountain a veritable army of airmen, technicians, scientists, and suits from every three-letter government agency went about their business with nervous efficiency. The word was some of the boys in Cryptology were on the verge of a breakthrough in decoding what was now termed the'Voyager Dump'. First contact with extraterrestrial life... The General mulled the prospect over silently. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. If the aliens had a message of peace, the General could surely get Congress to double or even triple the Air Force budget in the name of intergalactic relations. And if they had a message of war? Well then Buzzkill Tolliver would be set to lead the charge in space with probably ten times the normal budget! It would be a win either way. 
 
 A clamor broke out at the nearest terminal, men started to huddle around a single monitor. `` Sir, I think we've got it!'' shouted a tech sergeant. 
 
 `` Put it on the main screen son,'' replied the General, brushing his officer's coat in case any lint had landed. He did n't want to look sloven for the press briefing later on. A large golden square began to de-pixilate on the jumbotron sized screen for all to see. Lines took shape, clearly etched lines on a golden metal surface. It looked like.. 
 
 `` Sir, it's a dick!'' shouted the same tech sergeant. True enough, a twelve foot tall etching of a human male anatomy stood displayed for all to see. The General turned beet red. 
 
 `` What in the hell kind of joke is this?'' he demanded. `` Goddamit, what is-'' Another airman interrupted him. 
 
 `` Sir, it looks like it might be an image of the [ plaque on the side of the old Pioneer ] ( http: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pioneer_plaque # mediaviewer/File: Pioneer_plaque_humans.svg ) probe!'' In glorious high resolution, the male member 
 was displayed for all to see. Questions swirled immediately. Was this a hoax? Some sort of fraud? Every indication seemed to be that the transmission had some from deep space via Voyager's equipment, but how would it get an image from a completely different probe, let alone one so vulgar as this? 
 
 The computer spat out additional data. `` Sir, I think the decrypting program is picking up a number of text based artifacts in the transmission. Displaying them now!'' Excitedly, the airman let the messages roll off to the big screen as the program finished. 
 
 `` Sweet Jesus...'' muttered Buzzkill Tolliver. As the words spilled onto the screen, it was clear explaining this to Congress would be difficult. 
 
 *Hay hooman, why so small? It cold in space? * read the first message. *Lololo probe probably sent by hooman females looking for real pachingiang! * The program was clearly filling in with garbage for parts of the message it could n't translate. *How you expect to explore galaxy with such tiny male parts? Bahhahah11111! * 
 
 `` Turn it off,'' said the General. `` I've had enough.'' 

