As information on the crash filled the news feeds of the world, the citizens of a dozen nations watched intently, whispers of terrorism, sabotage, and war filling the global zeitgeist. Then, at precisely 12 pm GMT, the news feed cut out. In its place was a single woman seated behind a sleek crystal desk before a wall of windows. Through the glass was a paradise, an arboreal valley of waterfalls and rolling fields, a view that had been lost since the nuclear fire of past decades. But as marvelous as the background was, the woman was even more striking. Backlit by the golden glow of an artificial sun, she was garbed in a gleaming white jacket, equally suited for a lab or a social function with the world's super elite. A high collar clung to a slim neck, and gleaming raven hair was held in a tight bun. Silver lines ran down the sides of her face, linking the corners of her mouth and the tapered corners of her eyes. And what eyes they were, glowing a mechanical, electric blue. A slight smile twisted her full lips as she folded white gloved hands before her.

"Greetings, people of the world. For decades, you have toiled beneath the shadow of the Third great war, your friends and families ravaged by the depredations of savage warlords. We at Eden Arcologies were lucky enough to escape the touch of nuclear fire, and now, in this increasing climate of peace, we have decided to step from our hidden sanctuary. We offer an open invitation to any government for full diplomatic relations, and we hope that our technologies will help to forever dispel the lingering nightmares of the old world. Go in peace."

Then the woman was gone, and the coverage of the crash resumed. Meanwhile, in the seats of power of every major government a data packet was received detailing methods by which the Arcologies could be contacted.