RanJan woke with an annoyed chirp and snapped the alarm off with a flick of a wingtip. He peered at the time readout blearily, sure that, against all probability, his alarm program had malfunctioned and woken him up far, far too early. But no. That was, indeed, the time he had requested. The next species up for Boosting was diurnal, may they be cast into the Bright, and he had to get used to being awake in the light and asleep in the dark if he was to coordinate their Boosting properly.
He pushed himself more or less upright, flapping his wings a few times for balance, stretched his arms and legs a few times, then activated the autovalet.
As the autovalet’s various pipes and arms took care of his morning grooming and eliminations, RanJan ordered some stimulant drink and tried to clear his mind enough to recall what kind of day (ugh) he had to look forward to at this point in their mission.
Let’s see. He knew they had officially entered orbit some time on the previous ship’s day. So the ship, his precious Dawnbringer, was now in fully cloaked mode, invisible to all forms of sensing the target Primitives were likely to have at their disposal.
Correct that, he thought sleepily while he sipped his stimulant drink. Hmm, grassbug flavour, quite pleasant. The voice of his Relations professor echoed in his sleepy head.
“Once a species has been selected for Boosting, they cease being classed as Primitives, to be patiently ignored except for such passive monitoring as to judge their fitness for inclusion as Beings, and become Candidates, to be treated with the utmost in care and attention, for if we do our jobs correctly, they will be newling Beings in the Conference, and as such should be treated like cherished offspring, to be raised and nurtured with all that it is in our power to give them. ”
Pompous old wheezer, thought RanJan. Easy for him to say, back in Central System on his cozy perch at the Annex of Education. He wasn’t the one out here, on the Edge, taking species after species of sentient beings from wherever they were up to a suitable level of civilization, technology, and presentability in order to be submitted to the Conference for Inclusion.
And it wasn’t that old bird’s prestige on the line every time either. Ranjan thought about all the members of his Clade back home, all trying to bring more prestige to their Clans and hence their Clade, and how his own family, who had already done quite well thanks to his science genius brothers, was counting on him to bring them even more prestige as a Booster. His mother in particular was pouring on the “subtle” pressure in her transmissions lately. We love hearing about all your successes, dear Third Son. It makes us preen with joy every time we hear of you adding another race of Beings to the Conference, and we especially look forward to fresh reports of your continued success in such a prestigious field. Yes, Mother. Very subtle.
These were the thoughts of a nocturnal mammal forced into unnatural brightness against its will. As the stimulant did its job on his energy level and his nerves, and the autovalet did its job on his genitals and his fur, RanJan began to regain his usual gritty optimism.
There was nothing the Dawnbringer’s crew could not conquer. No species was too strange, too savage, too bellicose, or too unhelpful to be Boosted. That was the Dawnbringer’s motto, and by He Who Welcomes The Sunset, he was going to make sure it stayed true.
And this planet “Earth” was going to no different than all the others.
RanJan gave himself a quick inspection, verifying that his autovalet had, as usual, done an excellent job, then clicked it off, drew himself up with a big deep breath, and opened the door of his Personal Compartment.
Time to get to work.
Ranjan stepped out into the (ugh) light, and went to look for his Doctor.
His Doctor, unsurprisingly, was in his own personal recreation space, which Doctor called his “harmony multiplying oscillator” and which the rest of the crew simply called “the Vibratorium”.
RanJan had noticed that Doctor had been spending an increasing amount of his personal time in this chamber, and had thought about talking to him about it, but Doctor was notoriously touchy about (amongst many other things) how he used his personal time, and so RanJan decided it was none of his business. As long as a member of his crew performed their duties according to the very high standards he set for them, what they did with their personal time was, well, personal.
But still, he worried. Doctor’s entire species, the Uut, was, in his opinion, a little crazy. All those tendrils (Doctor looked, to RanJan, like a bush made of tentacles) plus the powerful and subtle minds that it took to control them all, plus a passive empathy that was practically telepathy, made them incredibly valuable as doctors, theorists in all the sciences, engineers, and teachers. But it also made them somewhat psychologically unstable, and in his private thoughts, RanJan could just as happily have finished his term of service without the singular and historic honor of having the first Uut to make it to a top-level position in a Booster ship getting assigned to his very own precious ship.
Sometimes, having the best success rate in the fleet was a decidedly mixed blessing.
RanJan stood behind the yellow line on the floor and respectfully waited while his Doctor floated in the air a few metres away, tendrils awash in vibrations, making some tremble, some flail, and some spurt various liquids.
He cocked his large, prehensile ears to carefully listen to the music of the vibrations, finger hovering over the “request attention” button on the Doctor’s jury-rigged Vibratorium console, and waited for the appropriate moment when all the various vibrational modes were moving towards a low, then pressed the button and waited some more.
Doctor waves off a few stray oscillations, and gracefully drifted down to stand before his Coord. From somewhere in that forest of deep green limbs, he produced the standard Enunciator the Uut used to communicate with races that, unlike them, communicated with sound.
“Salutations and morning radiance to my Coord, if that is not inappropriate parallel to your species, sir. ” The Enunciator represented Doctor’s voice as a smoothly modulated genderless lilting baritone. It suited.
“I accept your genuflection in the spirit in which it is offered, and graciously ignore any inappropriate specifics, Doctor. ” replied RanJan formally. As if they weren’t already difficult enough to live with, communication with the Uut was often an awkward dance with nobody in the lead.
Doctor made a complicated gesture with a half dozen of his tentacles then added “Surely, it is not yet time for daily early congruence? I programmed my mnemonic stimulators most strictly. ”
Danjan shook his head, then added the Uut equivalent, crossing his hands in front of him, palms toward him. “No, revered Doctor, I merely wish to consult with you before our, uh, congruence so that I, your loyal Coord, can know what he will be facing beforehand. ”
Doctor’s tendrils waved back and forth as if he was an anenome in a gentle sea. RanJan knew this meant he was thinking, and waited.
“Ah!” said the Doctor. “I see. Well, my mind is at your disposal as always, respected Coord. What knowledge I hold would shine light into your soul?”
It was RanJan’s turn to pause, and suppress a shudder at the thought of light shining into his soul. “My Doctor, what is already known about the species to which we are fated to Enlighten?” What a horrible word, he thought.
“Ah!” said the Doctor, then, after a little more tentacle waving, “They are bipedal, thank the One, and symmetrical. I shamefully confess, after that last species, it will be a relief to my higher functions to deal with simple bipedal carbon based oxygen life form this time. Far easier to find things and repair them. So fewer places to look, indeeed!”
RanJan laughed dutifully. The last species, the Tuytl, had been a bit of a medical nightmare, even by Galactic standards. Disorganized lumps of gristle and tissue and of all things sand. No wonder Doctor had needed so much vibration on the way here. It all made sense now. Ranjan cursed himself for a fool.
Bipedal, carbon based, oxygen breathing. Purely routine, then. At least eighty percent of the Beings in the Conference were built along the same lines. Life takes the easiest route, as the old axiom goes. RanJan felt a small but welcome portion of the weight on his Coord wings disappear.
“Do we have anything more for me at this time, revered Doctor?”
Doctor flicked his tendrils outward for a second in a gesture of ambivalence. “There is plenty of data in their electromagnetic shell, my Coord, but I am reluctant to base any medical or scientific opinion upon it until far deeper correlation has been performed by Social and her cohorts. ”
RanJan repeat his nod and crossed hands routine. That was to be expected. Hard to judge the reliability of a species’ own communications without direct observation for comparison.
“Very well. Revered Doctor, I must now disentangle from you and visit the others before our, uh, congruence. May all the light of the Cosmos enlighten your chlorophyll, Revered Doctor. ”
“Ah!” said the Doctor. “Then I shall recommence my sojourn. May the Holy Dark embrace you till the twelfth generation, my respected and beloved Coord. ”
And with a dismissive flick of his outer tentacles, Doctor reentered his Vibratorium.
RanJan flapped a few times in bemusement. The Holy Dark? Since when did Doctor show the slightest interest in Ranjan’s religion? And “beloved”? Such an intimate adjective for so aloof and detached a Being. It is true what they say, thought RanJan. The Uut are always full of surprises.
RanJan sighed, and as usual, went to find Grey-Under-Dark, his Dellik Engineer, next.
After dancing with Doctor, the Engineer’s crude pragmatism would be a welcome relief.
Long experience told RanJan not to bother looking for Grey-Under-Dark in his Personal Compartment. Grey had one, of course, as did everyone on the Dawnbringer. Records showed that Grey’s had even been used from time to time. But the odds were heavily in favour of Grey being where the best tools were, and that, of course, was in the Engineering Bay.
Sure enough, despite the hour, there was Grey-Under-Dark fiddling with a stripped down Multi-Field Projector. Hmm, energy fields. That means Grey is currently…. female? He paused in the doorway and took a careful sniff to verify. Yup, female. Great. Going to have to be extra careful, then.
RanJan took a few deep breaths to steady himself, then launched himself into the room with a flap and a hop. “Hey Grey-Under-Dark, you cranky old slut. What the fuck are you doing to that poor thing?”
Grey-Under-Dark looked up from her work and smiled. “Nothing I wouldn’t do to you, given the chance. Heya Coord, you pretty little choirboy. When you gonna flap on down from that high perch of yours and let me treat you right? I guarantee, it will be a bounce you never forget. ”
No doubt, thought RanJan. The sexual slang meant nothing to him, as his species wore no clothing and encoded everything about their identity, social status, and preferences in the exact way they groomed the fur on their genitals, but this kind of crude repartee did not come easily to the basically conservative RanJan.
He was no sexual regressive, of course. He would never have made it this far in the Boosters if he was. He had no problem with recreational sex, public sex, same gender sex, interspecies sex, all the usual variations.
But he believed in keeping the sexual personal, not professional, and did not frolic with those under his command. This was, admittedly, a minority opinion amongst Coords in the Conference, many of whom “frolicked” with the same casual ease one might play a strategy game or share some Liquid Stimulant with a crew member.
But that was not RanJan’s way. And besides, what ever happened to romance?
“Oh, I am sure you will catch me one of these days, you black hole. So, anything I should know about the Earth species’ technology? Anything we should worry about?”
Grey snorted with disgust and smoothed her work-smock. “Hardly. They still use chemically driven metallic projectiles as their primary individual-level weapon. What energy weapons they have are crude and impractical. Their most powerful large scale weapons are some fairly pitiful nuclear devices. We make Margin ten times over at least, Coord. Barring wildcards, we should have no problem. ”
Wildcards. Candidates with that special kind of genius to create technology that complicates Boosting. They were always a possibility, but it was not a factor that could be predicted, so RanJan tended to ignore it until it became a problem.
“And I take it we are at full Projection capacity, Grey?”
Grey-Under-Dark chittered something rapid and presumably filth in her own native language, and said, sardonically, “Have I ever given you anything less? You need anything from an army to a cup of water, you will have it, and there is no way the Earth species will be able to tell the difference from the real thing. ”
“Glad to hear it, Grey. Are you going to be at the morning meeting to attest to that?”
Grey-Under-Dark scowled a moment, her long furry tail twitching back and forth. Meetings were not her idea of fun, and as she was not officially part of the top level decision-making level of the crew, for her they were not compulsory. But she knew RanJan liked to have her there in order to save time, because whatever the big heads decided, she would be the one in charge of implementing it, and it saved everyone a lot of hassle if she was there to say “No, can’t be done. ” or “Sure, no problem. ” before anyone got too attached to their idea.
“Yeah, all right, Coord. I will listen in. But only so I can see that cute rear end of yours squirming in your seat when you get nervous. ”
Ranjan laughed nervously, and said “Me and my rear end look forward to seeing you there, then, Grey.”
He then made a prompt exit of the Engineering Bay and mopped the sweat from his crevices. That (currently a) woman was a crazed lunatic. What in the name of the Dark was wrong with that whole species? Was it their rapid rodent metabolism that made the entire concept of being “in heat” redundant? Great Nature had obviously built them with rapid breeding in mind. That’s why you can’t have two of them on the same ship. They would overrun the place in the space of a year.
Ranjan stopped a moment to groom himself. Ears pointed, wings unwrinkled, genitals precisely groomed. Excellent. There was something about his Social that made one want to look their best.
Now the real hunt began. Knowing his Social, she could be anywhere on the ship. Even with the computer’s help, it would be at least ten minutes till he was actually face to face with her.
Somehow, he didn’t really mind.
Eventually, via dogged determination and getting the computer to tell him Social and Civilization Officer Fendra’s position every five seconds, he was able to catch up with her for a consult.
She was in one of the Recreation Lounges, unsurprisingly, entertaining everyone with a combination of singing her native planet’s lovely songs, having at least three different conversations at the same time, and flinging the occasional brilliantly witty and scandalously ribald joke at an appreciative audience of mixed crew.
The moment she saw RanJan, though, she effortlessly brought it all to a delicate and genial close, and flapped up to a high perch so that she and RanJan could speak alone.
RanJan blinked away a momentary mesmerization caused by a few of her loose feathers fluttering down, their opalescent glow dazzling as they flipped over and over and caught the light first this way, then that way. She has been in your crew for over five standards years, RanJan scolded himself. You should be used to this by now. He flapped up to join her, his prehensile toes next to her delicate talons.
“What brings you down to ring my little bell, oh chief of chiefs?” she twittered cheerfully.
“Just the usual consult before the Big Meeting, little birdie. What’s the scoop on the new lucky breed?”
Fendra tilted her head one way, then the other, and clicked her beak a few times thoughtfully. “Eh, nothing we haven’t seen a dozen times before, my chieftain. The Primitives…. eh, I mean Candidates… are organized into nation states of the standard early democratic form. Conflict is limited to a few local skirmishes plus a few crude attempts at world police actions. A global government of sorts exists, but it largely just a forum. Communications and computers are, according to our Grey friend, in the early pre-Transition phase. They have a global computer network, which is having the usual realigning effect. Pollution is at… craa… “, she made a gesture as to hide her head under her wing for a moment ” the expected levels. Perhaps a little less. ”
RanJan nodded thoughtfully. Pollution was a very delicate subject for the extremely, even obsessively clean members of the Geffalell, Fendra’s species. Normally, solving a planet’s pollution problems was a job for Social, but as the mere mention of it led Fendra to practically regurgitate, RanJan had increasingly relied upon Grey’s technological tricks for the actual cleaning up and only brought Fendra in when it came time to design the public education campaign to keep things clean after the fact.
“Wait, Fendra… so they are pre-Transition?”
Fendra nodded. “yes, they are at least fifteen local years pre-Transition, possibly as much as twenty five. Plenty of time for the Standard Program to bring them up to at least Basic Standard. ”
“Excellent. So far, this is looking like a straight down the center line Standard case. Technology level far below Margin, simple oxygen-breathing carbon based bipeds like you and I, no surprises on the political or social front, plenty of potential to work with but with no resulting relevant complications. We won’t have to drag them out of the stone age and yet they are not so advanced as to be impossible to work with. All in all, it should be a pretty routine job. ”
“I fly with you, big boss man. Couldn’t agree more!”
“Good. So I take it their civilization is, what…. about two and a hlf million local years old?”
“No fly, big bat. Records from their Electromagnetic Shell show they are just 1.5 million years living indoors.”
“Hmmm. Well, I guess that is something a little different about them, then. Makes them above average. ”
“You got it. Slightly above average. Good for them, I say. ”
RanJan shrugged. “I can’t imagine it making a difference one way or another. Well, that is it for my rounds, I had better go get ready for the meeting itself. A treasure of pleasure sharing a perch with you as always, Fendra. Give my regards to, well… everyone, will you?”
Fendra preened with pleasure, and said “Sure thing, mighty Coord! I’ll tell everyone that the big bad batty says hi. And it’s been three hoots and a half perching with you too, great Father. I’m off!”
And with that, she flew back down to her audience.
And to think, that’s what she does to relax, thought RanJan. What on all the Planes does she do to exercise?
Oh well. Time to get ready for the meeting. I have only ten minutes to get there, and dammit, something has mussed up the fur on my genitals.
RanJan hurried to the nearest public autovalet, turned it on, and tried to relax.
As usual, RanJan was the first one to arrive for the meeting. He liked being first because it gave him time to mentally prepare, bringing up the relevant facts on his display and making sure he had a good grasp of them before he started asking questions of his crew.
He flapped up to his perch around a meter off the floor, called up all his displays, and had just gotten his thoughts and his fur settled when the others began to arrive.
Doctor was first, rippling into the room, using his stronger tentacles to smoothly draw himself over the ground, his thick fibrous base barely a millimeter off the floor. Then Social Fendra showed up, crossing the room in a single graceful swoop to settle delicately on a perch next to RanJan’s, but a little lower. Finally, Engineer Grey-under-Dark burst into the room, surveyed the seating arrangements, nose twitching, then hop-trotted over to the seat furthest from the rest, and leaned back as thought none of this really concerned her.
RanJan waited until everyone had signaled that they were ready to begin, then began.
“Good morning, everyone. Well, today is the big day for this mission. We will be within engagement range of our next Boosting target, self-designated “Earth”, before the end of this ship’s day. You have all had plenty of time to consult with your departments and present a final report to me so that I might decide on our plan of action for the Boosting of this “Earth”. I have read said reports, and have them before me on my display. Excellent work as usual, everyone. I have also personally consulted each of you in order to get whatever last minute details might be relevant to today’s meeting. Are we ready to decide on a plan?”
Everyone signaled yes. “Excellent. Now from what I have learned from your reports, there does not seem to be any particularly worrisome complications with these…. did we decide on “Humans” as the proper indigenous term for this species, Social?”
“You got it, Boss. ” replied Fendra. “There are a few other terms, but like most Candidate species, they just amount to ‘us’, so “Humans” was chosen for designate. ”
“Everyone got that? From now until the end of this mission, we work for the Humans. They are our responsibility from this point in time until they are judged ready to join the Conference. They are our charges, our children, our employers, our family, our nation, and our reason for being. Agreed?”
Everyone signaled yes. They had all agreed to as much when they first joined the Boosters, but the ceremony was still important, as it gave them all a sober reminder of just what it was they were here to do. As fun as the job could be sometimes, what they did was deadly serious. They had an entire species to Boost. That was not a job to be taken lightly. The responsibility was immense, which is why the Boosters were so well respected in the Conference and why the job held so much prestige.
RanJan smiled. “Good, now that the formalities are taken care of, we can get to work. Engineering, is the usual method of Introduction viable for the Humans?”
Grey nodded. “They have all the usual display technologies and they are quite ubiquitous, from what my sensors can pick up. Social?”
Fendra clicked her beak. “Yes, even remote and uh, economically depressed areas have some form of display, usually in the form of inexpensive computers. Word will spread more slowly there, but my calculations show that our message will reach sufficient saturation to meet the standard. ”
“Good, good. Are we going with a straightforward one stage Introduction, or will a more subtle approach be necessary? Say, infiltration?”
“I think the straight arrow approach should be fine, big Boss. There will be some unrest and the usual panicked reactions by a few of the nation blocs, but nothing we can’t handle. Grey, will the Pax Curtain be ready?”
“Sure, if our blessed Doctor gets around to giving me the biologicals I need to calibrate the thing. ”
RanJan was surprised. “Doctor, do you have the data Grey needs?”
Doctor manipulated his Enunciator. “Indeed I do. She has but to ask for it. ”
“Ask for it? I have been asking for it for a ship’s week!”
“Really? I don’t recall seeing you in my office once in all the time. ”
“I didn’t go to your office, I sent you messages on the Grid. You must have dozens of them by now!”
“Oh, am I supposed to check those? Must have slipped my mind. I have been so busy as of late. ”
“Yeah, busy getting your jollies from that giant vibrator of yours, instead of doing your job. ”
RanJan cleared his throat. “Now, Beings, we don’t need to turn this into something personal… ”
“Oh, I am not objecting to honored Engineer’s statements, my respected Coord. Most Beings are unaware of the needs of the Uut, and how our unique form of meditation, which does incidentally include the sexual, is both necessary for our mental and physical well being and the phase in which we do the high level complex reasoning for which we are humbly grateful to be famous. I forgive the Engineer her predictable ignorance. ”
Grey leapt up from her seat. “Ignorant! Why, you bucket of foliage, if your people could just be bothered to give a straight answer now and then, maybe we wouldn’t all be so ‘ignorant’! I don’t see why we have to put up with one of these.. ”
RanJan snapped his gavel-rock against its base, hard, startling even the implacable Doctor. Everyone immediately settled down, and Grey shot RanJan a grateful look. Grey had come awfully close to saying something truly Speciesist in front of everyone and on record, and in the high pressure world of Boosting, something like that can be a career killer.
RanJan scowled at his top level crew. “That’s more than enough of that! Really, you two are both the heads of highly distinguished Departments on this ship, not to mention being the most highly qualified people in the Fleet. That’s why I chose both of you for your positions. Are you going to make me regret my decision?”
Grey and Doctor signaled no, looking chastened. Fendra, for her part, didn’t care either way. She found a good argument just as entertaining as love, peace, and harmony.
RanJan fixed the both of them with his best steely glare. “OK. Now Doctor, do you have the data Grey need to calibrate the Curtain?”
“Of course. In fact, I have it right here. ” A slender tendril proffered a datarod. “Like I said, she had but to ask for it. ”
RanJan turned to Grey. “Well?”
GreyUnderBlack started to say something, swallowed it, closed her eyes for a moment, then, calmly : “Revered Doctor, may I have the neural and data our mission requires?”
“Nothing would give me more pleasure, stalwart and reliable Engineer. ” He then extended tentacle and datarod toward Grey politely.
Grey looked at the datarod like it was highly venomous arachnid, and glanced at RanJan, who smiled, but nodded in the Doctor’s direction.
As if daring anyone to say she was scared of another crew member, Grey stomped over, snatched the datarod from the Doctor’s tendril, and stalked back to her seat.
Nothing is ever easy where our Doctor is involved, thought RanJan. If the political situation was not so delicate, if he had not been so eager for the prestige of having the first Uut office on his ship, and worst of all, if he wasn’t so damned brilliant at both the theory and the practice of medicine, he would have gotten rid of him somehow at the first opportunity. Transferred him to another ship, gave him a “kick upstairs” by promoting him to a planetside commission, even create a new position that sounded prestigious but was really designed to keep him from interacting with the rest of the crew.
But with the entire Conference watching, no such tricks were available to him. He was stuck with Doctor, and had to admit, he was becoming increasingly reliant on Doctor’s seemingly effortless medical genius, and even had started consulting him on science theory well outside of medicine as well.
No matter how you looked at it, RanJan was stuck with Doctor for the foreseeable future.
RanJan sighed. “Good. That’s done. Now we can move on. Given the data, Grey, can you have the Pax Curtain covering the planet before Introduction?”
“Yup, no problem. They even have some crude communication satellites which will make it easy to make sure the Curtain covers the whole planet without any dead spots. ”
“Excellent. So the social chaos after Introduction should do as little damage as we can manage. Now, who do we have available for Ambassador? Doctor, is Ricot healthy enough to work?”
Doctor flatted his tendrils as one for a moment, then replied “I am afraid not, most respected Coord. My poor and meager skills have been insufficient to bring him to sufficient health to even relieve him of the automed’s tender but restrictive embrace. He will not be ready for duty for quite some time yet.”
“Do not berate yourself, respected Doctor. If a lesser Doctor than you had been on duty when that alien spice caused his mucous glands to seize up, he would not be merely weak but quite dead, and the Boosters would have lost on of their most adept interspecies diplomats. And what of Heskelorat? Surely our august Professor is ready for another tour of duty?”
“He might be, big Boss, but I am going to have to drop my beak on that choice, and hard. ”
“Why, Fendra? I thought he was one of your favorites. ”
“Oh, you know me Boss, I don’t have any favorites. I knew this would come up, so I have a couple of graphics ready in order to illustrate my point. Here, we have a picture of the old Professor. ”
A holopic of Heskelorat appeared on the central display.
Nothing wrong with him, thought RanJan. Bipedal, symmetrical, oxygen breathing, big wings, long fangs, red eyes that practically glowed with friendly reassurance… what was the problem?
“And this is a picture of what the majority of the humans think an evil and malign mythological being known as a ‘demon’ looks like. ”
The second picture appeared next to the first. There was a long silence, then noises of sudden understanding from everyone at the meeting.
“I must admit, the resemblance is uncanny. Too bad, I always thought the Prelators to be rather handsome. So who does that leave us, Fendra?”
“Nobody at all, big Boss. Well, nobody except…. uh… ”
RanJan stared at Fendra in horror. “Surely you are not talking about…. tell me we are not so desperate as to have to turn to…. ”
Fendra nodded sadly, and then said, as one with whole group… “…the Jagq. ”
Jim Ducette lowered his field glasses and rubbed his temples in a vain effort to stave off the inevitable eyestrain headache that scanning the skies every March 13 gave him. Being a veteran of over a dozen of these vigils, he had brought enough Visine and Extra Strength Excedrin for himself and anyone else who had not thought so far ahead. But the most they did was make the long watch between sunset and sunrise a little more bearable. Year after year, his only rewards for his annual trek to this spot were a massive headache, dry eyes, a thoroughly scrambled circadian clock, and absolutely no more evidence of visitation by the “amber globes” that had made Phoenix almost as holy to the true UFO believers as that Secret City known only as Area 51.
It was all worth it, though, to Jim Ducette. It has been fourteen years to the day since Jim Ducette, then only a smug and skeptical Canadian exchange student to the University of Arizona’s Computer Engineering program, had seen the sight that would completely change his life and everything in it. Seven amber orbs, five in a V formation with two trailing behind and occasionally moving about independently, along with the faint suggest of a massive craft of some sort in which the orbs were embedded. Orbs that had glowed brightly but without glare, warmly but without heat, and which left him, somehow, with the indelible impression of the presence of a great and benevolent intelligence that resided within those globes.
Jim had been camping solo that March 13, 1997 when he had seen those otherwordly globes, and while he had not partaken in some months, he was not entirely unfamiliar with the world of recreational pharmaceuticals, and so he did not know what to make of this profound visitation.
But when the news the next day reported that thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, of other Arizonans had seen the exact same thing, and had flooded the local 911 service with hundreds of simultaneous nearly identical reports, the explosion in Jim Ducette’s mind was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Thoughts and emotions flowed through his mind with such force that he felt he had accidentally grabbed onto a live high voltage wire and he could neither let go nor turn off the current before it either ran out of power, or destroyed him with its force.
When the flood finally abated, Jim Ducette felt like an entirely different person. All the things he had thought he cared about before were less than nothing to him now. What did politics, activism, his education, his career, and his faltering love life mean compared to the sure and certain knowledge he now had that extraterrestrial life existed, that it was wise and deeply benevolent, and it had visited Earth? And that he, Paul Ducette, a gawky nerd from small-town Northern Ontario, had been lucky enough to see it?
And surely this was it. This was the proof that the UFO believers (people a younger and more ignorant Paul Ducette had openly mocked) had been waiting for all these years, a mass sighting with far too many witnesses from far too many walks of life for the authorities to merely wave it away with some lame explanation like swamp gas or that old canard “mass hallucination”.
This was going to change the whole world forever. And Jim Ducette was going to be a part of it!
Sadly, this never happened. The powers that be were quick to point a cruelly mocking finger at all the people (including professors, lawyers, doctors, psychiatrists, and other highly education professionals) who were asking questions, and the media was all too eager to follow that mocking finger and join in on the joke while completely ignoring what, by any objective measure, was the biggest story in America if not the world at the time.
In those first few years post Lights, Jim had taken all his student activism skills and turned them up to maximum in his outrage at how this story, his story, and the story of countless others, was being completely swept under the rug with apparent ease. He spent all the time he could writing letters, making phonecalls, knocking on doors, and otherwise doing his level best to start the kind of grassroots brushfire that would bring the issue back into the spotlight regardless of what the authorities wanted.
He even quit his studies in order to pursue his fight full time. But all it got him was a lot of sympathy from the other people who had seen the Lights, and even the occasional financial contribution, but not a single peep from anyone in authority.
The story was old news. Most of his fellow witnesses just shrugged and moved on with their lives. The media’s tiny attention span moved on to newer things. The powers that be barely had to lift a finger to make the whole thing go away like it had never happened.
So Jim Ducette gave up. He moved back to his home town in Northern Ontario, apologized to his parents for not completing his education, and took a job as a Tim Horton’s baker to pay the bills.
And the one think Jim Ducette vowed never to do again was to talk, care, or even think about life beyond Earth ever again. He knew it was there. He knew it was wise and benevolent. He knew that it had chosen to reveal itself once, for reasons beyond his comprehension, and had otherwise left we poor humans to wonder what they had seen. Why? Jim didn’t know. But whether they ever chose to reveal themselves again, or maybe even explain themselves, there was nothing a nobody like Jim Ducette could do about it, and so the best thing he could do was to forget about the whole thing and try to make some sort of a life for himself.
And that worked… for a while.
But as the anniversary of the Lights drew near, Jim found himself feeling drawn towards Phoenix. Even in his angry activist days down there, he had made a point of camping out on the exact spot of his first sighting of the Lights and scanning the skies from dusk till dawn in case the Lights should return. Now, faced with the prospect of spending that fateful date alone in Canada, instead of with the fellow witnesses he had attracted to his little ritual in his activist years, he found he could not even imagine it. When he had done it before, it has been as much a political statement as anything else. But now he found his little ritual meant more to him than anything else in his life. He just had to be there.
So he traded some shifts, sold some personal belongings that no longer meant anything to him for the air fare, and took the trip down to Phoenix, part of him wondering why he even bothered.
That question was answered the moment he arrived at his camp site and saw that all his fellow witnesses were there, same as always. He was greeted warmly and found his usual camping spot had been cleaned up and provided with some extra blankets and provisions by some kindly anonymous person. Everyone was happy to see him and nobody seemed surprised at all.
It had never even occurred to them that he might not be there. That meant more to Jim Ducette than he could ever express. He might not have enlightened the world, but he had made friends, friends who shared his most important beliefs, and that was more than enough.
After that, no matter what, Jim Ducette was there every March 13 to camp, watch the skies, and talk about the Lights, and act as the de facto leader and main inspiration for the group. No matter how his life changed (going back to school in Vancouver, meeting a wonderful girl named Bonnie Gallant from the Maritimes there, moving to Moncton to be with her when they had both graduated, getting married, having two kids), everyone in Jim Ducette’s life knew where he would be and what he would be doing on March 13.
He had friends, friends who understood what he had gone through because they had gone through it themselves. Friends who knew him and respected him and needed him. Eventually Jim Ducette came to realize that the Lights were closest thing to a religion that he had ever had, and that ever trip to Phoenix was a pilgrimage.
It may not have made sense to the rest of the world, but they had never seen the Lights, had never even heard of them, so their opinions didn’t count.
Jim understood, his friends at the Lights Festival (as it came to be known amongst them) understood, his wife and kids more or less understood, and Jim Ducette found that this was enough for a simple computer programmer like himself. He didn’t need the whole world to understand.
He just needed the right people, the people who counted, to understand.
And every year, the number of people at the Lights Festival grew. Some of the new people were witnesses who had been overjoyed to realize that there were others who had not and could never forget what they had seen on March 13, 1997, and who did something every year to commemorate it. Others drifted in from the UFO community, some skeptical researchers, others fervent believers, and everything else in between.
Nowadays, the Festival meant a whole little tent city sprang into existence every year, with people from all over the world showing up to join in the community, meet other like-minded people, and above all, keep watching the brilliantly clear desert skies together.
Because you never knew. The Lights might come back, and if they did, Jim Ducette and all his friends would be there to see it.
And if they didn’t, that was probably okay too.
After all, they had each other.
Jim Ducette looked around the camp site with a feeling of mildly propriety pride and contentment. These were his people, far more than anyone else had ever been. All these people were here because of him. There were other groups of Lights watchers, many larger, better organized, in more prominent positions both geographically and in life, and certainly much better funded. They had websites, T-shirts, clubhouses, and so on. They treated it like a social club, like it was the local Kiwanis or Shriners. They had their benefits, no doubt. One was even trying to get funding for a network of cameras that would cover the entire sky over Phoenix twenty four hours a day. And who knows, maybe one of those groups would succeed where Jim Ducette’s group, with their loose organization and homespun ways and campout attitude, could not.
But Jim Ducette didn’t care about those other people. He wished them well, when he thought of them at all. The only thing that mattered to Jim was the people here at the campsite with him.
Because they were his people. They were his because there was only one reason to be at this spot for any given March 13, and that was because it was where he, Jim Ducette, had seen the Lights. They were his because his dedication in the early post-Lights period gave them comfort, inspiration, and galvanized to them into telling people their own stories. They were there because he had been such a gentle and wise leader to them over the years. They were there, in so many ways, because of him.
There was Claude and Margaret Campbell, down from Saskatoon. Now in their seventies, they came every year with their giant trailer tent stuffed with half a Costco’s worth of food and supplies. They always told everyone that it was just stuff they had bought for themselves then decided they didn’t want or need any more, but if that was true, they were the sloppiest shoppers ever, because they always had enough to feed an army for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snack. Whatever their reasons, their tent was always the hub around which the rest of the camp formed like spokes of a wheel. Anyone who needed a meal, an extra blanket, sunscreen, or any other of the little comforts of life like a semi indoor toilet (instead of using the ‘desert toilet’, in other words, using the desert as your toilet) only had to go to the Campbell tent and tell the Campbells what they needed.
They were the grandparents to them all, in all but the genetic sense, and the heart of every campout.
Then there was the Graysons, a family of six, consisting of Dell and Jane Grayson and their four energetic kids. Dell and Jane had been two park rangers in this very strip of desert on the night of the Lights, and had kept the job despite their original plan to just do it for a year to pay the bills. And they had kept the job specifically so they could be there every year for the Lights Festival, making sure the campsite was available, doing their best to keep the media away on those rare times someone thought to come out for a “wacky human interest” story on a slow news day.
Back on the day of the Lights, they only had their first boy, Tyler, with them, a fussy sixteen month old baby determinedly working his way up to his Terrible Twos, plus baby Lisa in Jane’s tummy. Now Tyler was a husky teenager whose soft eyes and gentle smile belied his quick wit and knack for hit-and-run sarcasm. Lisa was just barely fifteen, and her ability to know seemingly everybody in the area and keep up both a whirlwind of social activity and a 3.8 GPA never failed to amaze and perplex her decidedly more reserved and bookish parents. Then came Dylan, thirteen and currently in the midst of a red-hot growth spurt and hence spending a lot of his time eating, tripping over things, or both. And last came little Tress, nine years old (there had been some fertility issues) and a tiny terror of bossiness and emotion, constantly running off to the rescue of something that usually existed only in her active young mind.
All four kids had grown up in the tiny town of Chesterton, population 579, a half mile’s drive from the campsite, and had never known a time when March 13 was not the most important day of the year after Christmas. (Not even aliens from outer space can compete with Santa Claus. )
They were all bright, happy kids who had brought much needed energy and joy to the Lights Festival every year with their innocence and their questions and their rambunctious and infectious sense of play. The typical Festival found them taking over some random section of sand and son and putting up their ratty old badminton net for some shuttlecock action or some of what they called “gee this is a really big beach volleyball”, or spontaneously organizing a board games tournament, or sitting around the big campfire and soaking up the stories the grownups told about the Lights, their lives since the last Festival, and whatever else was on their minds.
Not far from the Grayson camp was Ted Langley, a taciturn man in his early fifties. He had been a security guard at an apartment complex in the heart of Phoenix, taking his nightly break on the roof of the complex, when he saw the Lights. One moment he was a typical guy with a wife and a kid and bills to pay, with a flask of lukewarm toddy in one hand and an old-fashioned glazed donut in the other, and the next he was a completely different person, staring up at that which he could not truly believe he was seeing, with fear and wonder and the first tremblings of what he would later realize was faith blotting everything else out of his mind.
From the top of a thirty five story apartment tower, the Lights had seemed almost like they were coming directly at Ted Langley, to the point where, at the moment when they had passed over him, at the last moment he had thrown himself onto the surface of the roof like a soldier diving into a trench.
He regretted that now. Who knows what he might have learn from observing them from that close up?
Ted had not been part of the early years of post-Lights activity. To a person of Ted’s personality and upbringing, anything to do with UFOs and other “weird stuff” like that was strictly for burnouts and hippies and undermedicated schizophrenics. There was no room in his mind, his heart, his plans, or his life for such impractical concerns. So Ted did his best to just go on living his life as he had before, and hide the vivid dreams of glowing amber orbs that left him giddy and shaking and covered in sweat after. Forget about the increasing feeling of trying to hold back a flood with sandcastles that ate away at the edges of his sanity.
And most of all, ignore all the times he had found himself just staring up at the sky in wide-open expectancy, and not only that, he had been doing it for over twenty minutes with absolutely no sensation of time passing.
But after his wife died suddenly in a car accident, and his son had left for college in Europe, Ted had been left with a great deal of time to think on his hands, and that had been all the flood had needed to swamp his meager defenses and make him deal with what he had seen.
He wisely took a meager early retirement package from his workplace rather than wait for his performance issues got him fired (not much use for a security guard who spends half the time staring out the window at nothing), put it together with what remained of his life savings after paying for his son’s education, and had just enough to get by until his government pension kicked in as long as he lived small.
Living small was no problem for Ted, who has grown up poor and had spent a lot of his youth living job to job paycheck to paycheck, getting by however he could.
And once he left his job, and had nothing but a small home that suddenly seemed far too large and a beat up but nearly indestructible old Ford truck to his name, Ted finally decided he had to deal with this whole UFO thing before it drove him crazy.
So he started asking around, and learned for the first time (he had never been very interested in the news) that thousands of others had seen the same thing that night. In no time at all, it seemed, he had met dozens of them, and heard stories of this Canadian boy, a real firebrand crusader for the cause, called Jim Ducette, and his little campout in the desert every year.
That sounded about Ted’s speed, so he decided to go. The first Festival he attended, he did not say a single word to anyone for the entire night. Just showed up, pitched a tent, and watched the sky with everyone else.
Even now, many years later, he didn’t say much. But over the years, he had supplied the campers with numerous absolutely priceless practical tips on how to organize and run their little tent city every year.
And every year, Ted finds the dreams come less often, the gnawing at his sanity become more of a gentle nibble, and the more he only stares at the sky when he wants to do it.
It isn’t what he had once had in mind, but it worked.
8493
And then there was Eddie Janssen, or “Occult45”, as he insisted was his “real name” not his “accidental name”. He was a tall, awkward, painfully thin young man who claimed to be twenty five but looked more like 18. He had arrived with just a backpack and a laptop, and seemed to think that as long as he had those, he would be fine.
But despite its volume, said backpack apparently contained not a single item of camping or survival gear. He had not even brought a jacket, and seemed to think that he would be just fine throughout a long night in the Arizona desert in March wearing just a thin T-shirt that said “A WINNAR IS YOU” and some “skinny jeans” that fit him like a potato sack.
He had not taken well to being gently set right on this matter, amongst others, and had displayed a charming adeptness at angrily saying “I know!” before anyone was even done telling him anything. He had also complained vociferously about the “lack of WiFi” at the campsite, and how “crazy stupid” it was that to “expect people to walk like forever”, a whole half a mile’s hike, just to get here. And even though he had acted like he was personally insulted when they offered him a bedroll and a sandwich, he nevertheless took them, and when he had angily asked for more, had been directed to the Campbell’s trailer, he proceeded to treat it like it was his own personal grocery store, grabbing way more than he could possibly use, then glaring around at everybody like they were going to steal it from him.
In short, the kid was obnoxious, hostile, and demanding, not a great combination in anyone, but he claimed to have seen the Lights when he was a preschooler and so had his mother, who had sent him here in her stead because, she said, she was getting too old for all this “camping bullshit”.
Jim Ducette didn’t remember anyone named “Janssen” showing up for any of the Festivals before, and it was still a small enough event that he pretty much knew everyone who had ever attended, but the kid claimed to have seen the Lights and seemed to know enough about them to make the story stick, so Jim was not inclined to quibble.
And as for Eddie’s odious personality, Jim was trying to be forgiving and understanding. After all, had the eighteen year old Jim Ducette shown up that night, they would have had a whiny, cranky, sarcastic hypochondriac to deal with as well. But the kid certainly was hard to take, and was disrupting the usual mood of laid-back conviviality that Jim strived to foster at the Festival, and quite honestly was just plain not fitting in.
Still, it was not in Jim Ducette’s nature to reject anybody, especially not at the Festival, and so everyone was doing their best to help the kid settle in. Well, everyone with the possible exception of the kid himself.
At least Eddie had quieted down since they had strung a few extension cords together so that the kid could plug his laptop in, and thus for the last few hours had been content to just sit on a rock using said laptop like it was an extension of his body and limiting his interaction with others to the occasional snarky comment or obscure Internet culture reference that nobody but him understood. He even deigned to glance up at the sky now and then.
No doubt, thought Jim, Eddie would make the adjustment over time and relax and fit in. Insecure males often had a hard timing realizing they were not in danger or under threat, and hence could lower their guard and fit in. Male culture was not kind to the sensitive and intelligent, and some of that class of people ended up developing some pretty aggressive defense mechanisms in order to cope.
The kid would come around sooner or later. Everyone always did. None of the regulars were exactly the same people today that they had been the first time they all got together after the Lights. Their social dynamic had evolved over the years as they had gotten to know and value one another. They could hardly expect this painfully young lad to instantly find his place in the group dynamic.
It would happen in time, as most things did.
Eddie, for his part, was all too painfully aware that he was not making a good impression and was, in fact, behaving very badly. It was the story of his life. He had been diagnosed ADHD at the age of ten, and inside his voluminous backpack there was a carefully stored supply of Ritalin ready and waiting for him to use, but he found it made life much harder to enjoy, so he only used it when things were truly getting out of hand.
He was thinking about taking some now. For the moment, the laptop (even without WiFi) was absorbing enough of his
energies for him to stay still and be mostly quiet. But he could feel that dreaded potential building in his blood, and knew he would have to give in soon, or make an even worse spectacle of himself.
Eddie “Occult45” Jenssen had been a boy of only four years of age when his mother, quite out of character, had shaken him awake in the middle of the night, carried him down to the back yard, and in a voice he had never heard her use before, bid him “Look up, Eddie! Look up, and see!”
Little Eddie looked up, all right, and what he saw frightened him more than the boogeyman who he absolutely knew lived in his closet, or the crocodile with three heads that definitely lived under his bed and was just waiting for a leg or an arm or a hand to be carelessly dangled over the edge of the bed so he could snap on to it like a vice and drag poor little Eddie under the bed to a messy doom.
The Lights scared him more than both of those combined times ten. They scared him because they were so big and so bright and so (seemingly) right above his head.
But mostly, they scared poor little Eddie so bad because of what they did to his mother. Before that night, Eddie’s mother had been the solid, secure, reliable core to the young boy’s tumultuous life. No matter how many goblins or demons or bad men with big knives that Eddie’s mind conjured up, no matter how scared or anxious or just plain revved up beyond endurance Eddie got, his mother was always there, calm, quiet, and cool, to hold him and stroke his head and keep him still till all the bad things went away again and he was left in his mother’s arms, trembling and sobbing and cold as ice, till she would warm him up again with a kiss on the forehead and a sweet, gentle “It’s OK, Eddie. Everything will be fine now. You made it through. ”
That was the mother Eddie knew and loved beyond any comprehension. The mother who always seemed to know when it was time to show up with a glass of cold milk, or a bed time story, or a game of tag played in their small, precious back yard, here in the tract housing of southern Georgia. The mother who could work all day at her job as a waitress at the Big Bowl downtown, and yet never seem tired or worn out or irritable at all. The mother who made it seem like no matter what, life could never truly touch her at all, and she would always be the same soft, kind, patient person that she was in Eddie’s first memories.
Above all, his mother was always there for Eddie. Even when she was at work and Eddie was left with Mrs. Murcheson, he felt like his mother was right there with him, holding his hand or watching from nearby.
But she was gone now. Eddie could see it in her eyes. For the first time in his young life, Eddie felt like his mother just plain was not there at all. As she looked up at the Lights, Linda, Eddie’s mother, was not really there with Eddie. She was up in the sky, dancing with the Lights, waiting for them to take her away.
Because what little Eddie could not possibly have known was that his mother Linda has seen something very much like this when she was barely older than Eddie’s age. She had been camping with her family and had gotten lost in the woods in the late afternoon. So, remembering her Girl Scout handbook, she knew the smartest thing to do was to pick a nice spot to sit and just stay there until she was found.
Well, the nice spot she chose wasn’t visible from the road, so it was well after sunset that the shivering, babbling, delirious young girl was found and taken to the local hospital.
At the time, her delirious state was chalked up to the extreme emotion stress of being lost in the dark scary woods at such a tender age, away from her parents and her home.
But Linda knew that wasn’t it at all. Linda had been just fine, not cold at all due to a little fire she managed to get going with some dried leaves, moss, and wood she found around her tree. She had been quite prepared to wait the night through if that is what it took, calmly certain that she would soon be missed and rescued and hurried home, where she would get all kinds of affection and attention and be told what a good, smart, brave little girl she was for coping so well.
She had just been thinking about what kind of ice cream she wanted (in case she was asked) when a strange sound, like a bee humming in a glass jar, made her look up.
And there, floating lazily across the sky, were two large amber orbs, humming and crackling and occasionally flaring brighter for a moment with a sound like dropping an ice cube into hot oil.
Little Linda was absolutely mesmerized. Nothing in her young life prepared her for such a sight. What were they? Why were they here? What did they want with her? Were they friendly?
As Linda, eyes big as saucers, watched, the twin orbs circled the top of the tree under which Linda had taken shelter, and theb began to slowly descend towards Linda.
Linda sat there, still as a statue. Part of her wanted to run as far as she could, as fast as he could. But then she would not be staying in one place like a good girl, and might never even be found.
And honestly, nothing in the world could have kept her from finding out what this is all about.
The orbs circled the tree as they descended, until just before they reached the ground, they suddenly zipped together and silently exploded a foot or so in front of Linda’s pigtailed head.
Instantly, Linda was transported to a vast amber-gold room, and two strangle looking old men were smiling at her like the proudest of grandfathers.
They looked like people, yet somehow like they were not quite real, like they were puppets, or dolls. They moved slowly and carefully, and while Linda was sure they were infinitely kind and patient, she also felt like they were not really human beings. They were… something else.
The first one said, in a voice filled with quiet, soft, gentle dignity, “You do not know us, but you are one of us. We made you, and you in turn made us. Little bell, we have come here to tell you that you are not entirely from this planet, and while we cannot take you with us to our golden paradise, some day we will be back for you, to take you away from the worried and imperfections of this world. ”
The other, in a deeper, more rumbling voice, said “Until then, my blessed child, be good, listen to what others tell you, try to be patient, and above all, know that we love you and will return to take you home with us if you can just be a good girl until our return. ”
With that, the two reached out and touched one of her shoulders each. “Now awaken child… you are needed. ”
Linda awoke with a start, and found herself in the back of an ambulance. a tube in her arm, and a kindly older lady in a uniform smiling down at her.
“There we are… I knew you would be back with us soon. Hello Linda, my name is Morgan and you are on your way to the hospital. Don’t worry, dear, you are not very sick. It’s just that when we found you in the woods, you were asleep and we coudn’t seem to wake you up right away, so we are just taking you to where the doctors can take a look at you and make sure you’re okay, all right dear?”
No it’s not all right, thought Linda. I want to talk with the two old men again. And why is there a needle stuck in my arm? It hurts! And I’m scared!
But little Linda remembered what the two old men had told her, so instead she just smiled sweetly, and said “OK, Morgan. Will my Mommy and Daddy be there?”
Morgan laughed kindly, and said “They sure will be, sweetie, and they will be so happy to see you and know that you are okay. So you just lay back and rest, and let us take care of the rest, okay?”
Linda smiled, and nodded, and did as she was told. She laid back, and relaxed, and smiled to herself. Nothing could bother her now. She knew beyond doubt that she was special, and that she was loved, and that all she had to do was be a good girl and wait for her two special grandfathers to come take her away to someplace so very wonderful that she would never have to worry about anything ever again.
Nothing could touch her. She could do anything now.
All she had to do was be a good girl, and wait.
After that, Linda went back to her family and back to her life. And at first, everything seemed to go back to normal. But gradually, her parents began to notice that Linda was not quite the same little girl that had gotten lost on their camping trip.
She was much quieter, and a lot more obedient. She paid closer attention in school, and never fought with her parents any more. Her mercurial moods had been replaced by a sweet, slightly shy temperament. She was patient and kind with her younger siblings, acting just like the perfect little mother to them, and was helpful and docile with her older siblings. She even took to keeping her room as neat as a pin, a radical shift from its earlier tendency to look like disaster footage. And no arguments about bed time at all.
They knew that they should be pleased. Most parents would be overjoyed to have such a perfect little daughter. But they both sensed that all this had come at some kind of unnameable price. There was something missing in their daughter, something that had left her during her time in the woods, and its abscence could be detected in the detached way she did everything, as though she was only keeping busy until something more important happened. It showed in the way she could seem like she was millions of miles away while looking you right in the eye and talking with you face to face. And it was in the way that, in odd moments, she could be seen just looking out the window at the sky, still as a statue and remote as a star.
And if you interrupted her reverie and asked her what she was doing, she would just smile and say “Oh, just seeing what’s out there!”, or, even more disturbingly, “I thought maybe there was someone out there waiting for me. ” And she refused to explain either statement, and just gaily changed the subject.
Even as the years went by and Linda grew from a shy girl into a popular teen, then into the college girl that effortlessly attracted people to her and ended up quite the strong-willed (but entirely law-abiding) student activist, and finally into her marriage with a sweet, shy fellow student she met while delivering a petition to Town Hall (he was a political intern there), and into becoming the sort of wife and mother that makes people sigh and says “Now that is how it is supposed to be. ”
Sadly, when that sweet, shy intern got his first real taste of power and privilege, he left her for an ambitious young lawyer he met at a fundraiser and never looked back. This left her a single mother with a degree in communications and political science, and a moody and imaginative little boy named Eddie.
She hadn’t told Eddie about any of this, of course. She hadn’t told anyone. The old men hadn’t told her not to tell anyone, but even as a little girl, she sensed that it was not the sort of thing that one talked about. Few people, if any, would truly understand.
Besides, secrets were fun. Secrets were power. And she had the biggest secret of all. She knew she was not stuck on this ball of dirt filled with war and hate till the day she died. She knew she was special, special beyond anyone who had ever lived. She knew that the world did not work the way everyone else thought it did, and that there was far more to the world than even the smartest priests and scientists knew.
That was enough to keep her patient and good through all those years of waiting. Her faith had never wavered, not even when her husband has so callously abandoned her and dear little Eddie. The old men had never said when they would come back for her. They just told her to wait, and to be good.
So she waited, and was good.
But then the night of the Lights came, and there they were, brilliant amber orbs of light, and she knew, without a doubt, that this had to be it. It. IT had to be the old men coming back to pick her up and take her to their golden realm, and so she woke up little Eddie and bade him look up so that he would be sure to go with her.
And when the Lights passed by and faded back into the night, and Linda was still there, absently soothing a crying Eddie in her lap, something deep inside Linda broke, quietly and with a bone-deep finality.
It was impossible that those orbs had not been the vessels of the old men. They looked just like the ones that had circled the tree so long ago. She could clearly sense the warm and intellect emanating from them. So it had to be the old men. It just had to be.
And therefore, it was impossible that they had not picked her up and taken her away. The very idea was patently absurd. She had waiting her entire life for them to come back and get her. They said they would. And so they had definitely picked her up. Anything else was impossible.
There was only one logical conclusion, then, reasoned Linda on that fateful night. The old man had, indeed, picked Linda up and taken her away, and therefore whatever was left here on Earth was not Linda. It was something else, something left over because it wasn’t good enough, wasn’t pure enough to make the trip.
Linda was gone. Something else was left in her place, something hollow and filthy and unworthy.
Linda was gone, and so was her sanity.
The next fourteen years were not kind to little Eddie. His mother was never the same after the night of the Lights. It as if all the light and life had gone out of her. She now did everything with robotic impassivity and a constant expression of dull terror in here lifeless eyes. Gone was the sweet, kind, patient mother he had known and loved, and in her place was this listless zombie who never looked anyone in the eye and refused to go outside for any reason, ever again.
Eddie tried to tell people there was something wrong with his mother, but he couldn’t figure out how to explain it so that people would understand. Every time he tried to explain, he just ended up angry and confused and humiliated by the blank incomprehension and amusement in people’s faces.
Finally, his childish protests managed to prompt a neighbour to call in a social worker to check out their household. Finally, thought Eddie, someone who would understand.
But the social worker was a bored looking older woman who barely even glanced around their simple home before sitting down at their kitchen table and asking them a bunch of questions from a thick questionnaire she produced from a battered old briefcase.
First, to Linda. To his horror and incomprehension, his mother answered every question perfectly. Yes, she was employed. Yes, she thought she kept good care of Eddie. Yes, she fed him three times a day, plus the occasional snack. Yes, she made sure the meals were nutritionally balanced. Yes, she was there all the time that she was not working. No, she had no men in her life and was not looking for one. No, she did not spend money on activities outside of them home. She neither smoked nor drank. She loved her son very much.
The social worker seemed quite satisfied with these answers, apart from looking up long enough to shoot Linda a dirty, disapproving look at Linda when she said they never went to church. Perhaps a younger, more alert social worker would have noticed Linda’s listless monotone, or the way she had no visible emotional reaction to any of the questions, instead intoning her answers like she had them all memorized.
But this social worker seemed a lot more worried about filling out the questionnaire properly, and complaining about her various aches and pains, and fumbling with her gigantic pill box, than in paying the slightest bit of attention to anything else.
And when it came time for little Eddie to answer questions, the social worker absolutely refused to listen to anything he said and just kept angrily brandishing the questionnaire and pointing her pen at Eddie and admonishing him to pay attention and be a good boy and just answer the questions he was asked.
And of course, Eddie’s answers were the same as his mother’s, because everything his mother had said was true, and Eddie was far too scared of the social worker to even think of lying to her. And by the time they were done, Eddie was crying between the questions, and the social worker took no notice, and was out the door the moment after Linda had finished signing the questionnaire.
After the social worker left, Linda turned to Eddie, almost really looking at him for the first time since the Lights, and said, quietly and simply, “I’m sorry, Eddie. ”
And then went right back to being a robot.
Soon Eddie had to go off to school, and life got even worse. Without his mother’s calming influence, and with all the sadness and loneliness her condition brought him, what had just made Eddie a “moody child” rapidly blossomed into a serious behavioural problem.
Eddie was all over the place. One moment happy and laughing, the next angry and screaming, the next crying with great wracking sobs that made the rest of the students start to cry as well. He would race around the classroom like a demon, laughing like a maniac and throwing toys at people, then suddenly collapse and fall asleep instantly for ten minutes, then wake up and meekly ask what everyone was doing.
This quite promptly got Eddie sent to the vice-principal’s office, or rather, dragged bodily there by his first grade teacher. The vice-principal took one look at this wild creature in his office and shut the door and went to get the principal.
The principal, in turn, took one look at the wild creature in the vice-principal’s office and called the school nurse, who specialized mostly in bandaids, aspirin, and calling the hospital. She called her supervisor at the school board, and she in turn called a doctor she knew for a referral, and eventually, a wooden and exhausted Eddie was loaded into the cat of a very nervous and very junior teacher’s assistant, and driven to the offices of child psychiatrist Doctor Timothy Latrice.
Doctor Timothy Latrice was quite famous in the area, due to his flashy and self-consciously goofy television commercials where he promised that, due to his dedication to only the most modern, cutting edge techniques, “if you give me a problem child, I will give you back a happy child, guaranteed!”.
What he neglected to mention was that his entire approach to medicine was based on a handy and colorful chart that a major drug company had given him that had popular diagnoses down one side, and medications on the other.
For convenience, it even had the criteria “suggestions” for each of the popular diagnoses printed on the back. So all Doctor Latrice had to do was use this chart, and curing children was a snap.
Best of all, he still got paid as much as the doctors who did it the hard way. Life was good.
He took one look at Eddie, and saw a quiet boy on the verge of sleep, tears drying on his cheeks, red-faced and sweaty, hair wild and uncombed and tangled.
Hmm, thought Doctor Latrice. This kid looks pretty crazy. He had better give him something strong. He remembered talking to someone from the kid’s school about why they were sending him over, but he had been distracted by his Sudoku and had honestly not been listening. Something about the kid hitting someone, or playing with himself in public, or something like that, maybe. One of those things kids are always doing somewhere, in Doctor Latrice’s extensive clinical experience. Some kids are just plain weird.
Doctor Latrice then did something he hated doing, namely reading a patient’s file. A good physician, like himself, a real master healer, should be able to diagnose and treat a patient by pure instinct and intuition. Well, that, and the chart, of course. Facts just clouded the healer’s mind and introduced complications.
But sometimes, you just had to look at the file anyway, at least to find out the kid’s parents’ name for the prescription. If you didn’t get that, you risked not being paid right away, and that was enough of an incentive to make Doctor Latrice actually read something boring.
Doctor Latrice skimmed. Kid was acting out in class, doing this and that, blah blah blah, the usual weird kid stuff. He peered at his young client over his prescriptionless glasses. Totally asleep now. Good, this would go a lot easier with the little weirdo conked out.
To complete his diagnosis, Doctor Latrice brought his enormous intellect and its Sherlockian deductive powers to bear.
The kid’s clothes were cheap, so he was obviously poor.
He hadn’t done anything amusingly weird with his little weiner or butt, so odds are he wasn’t being molested. Good, because abused kids meant a lot of annoying paperwork for the State for Doctor Latrice, and he had already gotten in trouble for letting a few slide this year, so he was being careful.
So, poor kid, not abused, acted crazy…. he thought of asking the kid if he heard voices that told him to things, but then he would have to wake the kid up, and then the kid would probably want something or cry or do something else annoying, and he would never get back to his Sudoku.
So Doctor Latrice called upon his vast acumen, decided that with poor kids it was probably hyper disease, and write Eddie a fat prescription for Ritalin, then went back to his Sudoku.
The idea that maybe Eddie’s behaviour was a perfectly normal reaction to extreme emotional trauma, and that the real solution would have been to find out what had caused him to act this way and maybe even intervene in his home life, never occurred to any of the grownups in Eddie’s young life.
Eddie was a bad kid, and bad kids got drugs. Good kids got different drugs, just to keep them normal. That is how it worked. The nice people from the drug companies had explained it to everyone.
Little Eddie was on drugs before he even woke up.
Doctor Latrice never set eyes on Eddie again.
After the trip to Doctor Latrice’s office, Eddie was a much better student, and it was the Ritalin that did it, because Eddie was so afraid of it.
He had taken his first Ritalin because he was supposed to do so and he really did try to be a good boy whenever he could. Right away, though, he knew something was wrong.
He couldn’t feel anything any more. It was like he was wrapped in cold wet cotton, and nothing had any emotional existence any more. The world was still right there in front of his eyes, but it might as well have been a million miles away in space, for all he could feel of it. His thoughts were heavy and slow. Doing the simplest things felt like a major chore. And time ran very, very slow.
Eddie felt like a zombie, just like his mother, and that fact alone scared Eddie almost as much as the Lights had scared him. All the time the Ritalin had him in its cold grip, a voice inside Eddie was screaming, screaming, screaming to be heard. but all Eddie could do was wait till the medicine wore off.
After that, Eddie knew what he had to do. If he was bad, he would have to take his Ritalin. If he was good, he would be able to get away with not taking it and nobody would ask him to. So he had to be good, no matter what.
And he tried. He really did. He tried so hard to be good and to not cause problems and to fade into the woodwork so that nobody would take him away again. He knew that the next time he was “taken away”, it might not just be to some place he barely remembered for an afternoon.
He might be “taken away” for good. Eddie knew what a mental institution was, and while he didn’t know exactly what went on in one, he still knew he didn’t want to go. He was scared to leave his mother, vacant as she was, and he knew that would happen if he made everyone notice him again.
But the truth was, little Eddie could not control himself. He would be okay for a while, maybe a little touchy, a little nervous, but otherwise quiet and well behaving kid.
Sadly, sooner or later, all the emotions inside him would build up to the point where he would have an Incident. He would suddenly start crying, or scream obscenities at a teacher, or fly at another student without warning and pummel them with his tiny fists and not even be able to remember why later on.
In fact, Eddie found that he often didn’t know why he did what he did any more. Too often, he found himself in trouble for things he didn’t even remember wanting to do. He become adept at making up reasonable sounding explanations for his actions after the fact.
Thus, little Eddie would probably have ended up being taken away from his mother anyhow. But as it happened, she was taken away from him.
He had come home from school one cold winter day to find Linda standing outside their burning home, holding a misshapen lump of what he supposed was supposed to be a birthday cake, with Linda smiling vacuously and saying “It’s your birthday, Eddie. Your birthday!”
After that, it was mental institutions for Linda, and foster homes for Eddie. For the rest of his life, Eddie would only see his mother on rare visits to the various psychiatric facilities in which she was placed. She always seemed happy to see Eddie, once she remembered who he was.
And the foster homes weren’t all that bad, all things considered. They usually treated Eddie okay, and after Linda burned their house down and Eddie lost everything he owned, Eddie didn’t care too much about where he ended up or what happened to him.
So life became a series of foster homes, one more or less like the next, where he would be given a bed to sleep on and cheap but nourishing food and a place to call home for however long it took for them to get too frustrated with his erratic behaviour or too frightened by his intense outbursts and violent temper to put up with him any more, and then it was on to the next one.
Budget cuts were all that kept Eddie from ending up in a mental institution like his mother. Foster homes were cheaper, and that’s all that mattered to the State.
Ritalin continued to be the enemy. Eddie desperately tried to avoid having to take it. He knew that meant he was creating his own problems and that a lot of his outbursts could have been avoided if he just took his Ritalin like he was supposed to do.
But it just hurt too much to do it. He would rather get in trouble over and over again, and end up having to move every six months or so, than be the walking dead like Linda. The Ritalin made it hard to feel anything or even care about anything.
So he dodged it whenever he could, becoming an expert at hiding pills under his tongue, or in the roof of his mouth, or even swallowing them then making himself throw them up again the moment he could get to a bathroom.
His foster home experience took its toll on Eddie. Over the years, he went from being a wide-eyed little boy into a sullen, bitter, withdrawn teen whose only “friend” was his laptop computer and, through it, all the virtual friends he made on the Internet.
On the Internet, if you were careful, you never did anything you didn’t want to do. And if he felt himself sliding into an Incident mood, he could just turn the laptop off and get through it by himself, alone, someplace where he couldn’t hurt anyone or get into trouble.
That is when Eddie started taking long walks in the woods all by himself. He became q highly adept wilderness hiker, able to range far and wide with just a knife, a compass, and his backpack.
Life progressed like this until the day after Valentine’s day, when Eddie got news that shook his life up completely, and once more, it was Linda that caused it.
She did it by disappearing completely.
Nobody at the Matterson Institute could explain where she had gone, although the official explanation issued by the Institute was that she had escaped. They based this entirely on the fact that nobody could find her in the Institute, ergo, she must have escaped.
But if she had escaped, nobody knew how. One moment, she was looking out her fifth storey window at the stars, like she did every night (if prevented, she became restless and difficult), and the next, nobody could find her.
Only the clothes she had been wearing that night were gone. She had not been picked up on any of the security cameras outside her room or on the Institute grounds. Nobody has signed her out, nor was there any record of any transfers or reassignments. Somehow, between one bed check and another, an interval of less than twenty minutes, Linda simply vanished into thin air.
Buried in the back of the official report that would be issued a year after the incident would be an orderly’s statement that, on the night in question, he had heard a sudden, harsh electrical hum, and had been sufficiently alarmed by it that he had alerted both his supervisor and the maintenance department.
The maintenance department found no problems in the wing’s wiring, so the matter went nowhere.
Linda was just plain gone, and nobody could explain why.
The Institute, after a week of searching, gave up and reported Linda as a missing person.
And it was the police who told Eddie that she was gone.
The two policewomen had arrived on the doorstep of Eddie’s current (and most stable) foster home unannounced and unexpectedly, causing quite a stir amongst his fellow foster kids, many of whom had a far more colorful and complex relationship with law enforcement than Eddie. Eddie had not had that many run-ins with law enforcement, except for a few times when one of his outbursts had gotten so out of hand that people called them in. To Eddie, they were the nice men and women in blue who had talked very calmly and kindly to him and saved him from himself a number of times.
To the other kids, they were a good reason to throw some baggies full of a mysterious green substance out their bedroom windows and douse their bedrooms with Febreze.
It was a double shock to Eddie that he was only hearing his mother was missing from the police searching for her, weeks after her disappearance. Why hadn’t the Institute told him when it happened? Or his social worker? Or anybody? Why was he finding out from two police officers who had never even met her?
The police officers asked Eddie if he had seen his mother recently, if she had been in contact with him at all, the usual sorts of questions. Eddie couldn’t help them, he hadn’t seen his mother in six months.
He felt very guilty about that now. What kind of son doesn’t go to see his mother for six months just because the visits tend to leave him depressed? She seemed to enjoy them, and that’s all that mattered. And now he might never see her again. She was gone, out of his life and everyone else’s.
It was only then that Eddie realized how much he still loved his mother, despite everything. He loved her and he missed her and now he had to find her and tell her that, even though she probably wouldn’t understand.
But how to find her, when even the police were stumped? What could he do that they couldn’t? What did he know that nobody else knew about his mother?
The only thing that he could think of was that some way, some how, this was all connected to the Phoenix Lights. The Lights had been in the sky the night he had lost his mother the first time. The Lights had somehow taken his sweet, kind, wonderful mother away and replaced her with a smiling, vapid zombie. And now, somehow, they had finally finished the job and taken the rest of her as well.
An Internet search yielded a lot of groups with a lot of ideas about the Lights, but for some reason, Eddie was drawn to the Festival. Something about the Festival rang true to him. Something told him that this was the place to go to get some answers.
Eddie packed his backpack with things he thought he would need (books, junk food, three charged spare batteries for his laptop, a WiFi booster), hung the backpack out his window, told his foster parents he was going for a walk, and grabbed the backpack from outside the house.
He then went to a spot nearby and dug up a few things he hand stashed away just in case he needed them : a stolen gift card, $300 in small bills, and a compact automatic pistol, complete with a small box of ammo and the basic supplies needed to keep it clean and running smoothly.
He then set out for the Festival, looking for answers. Looking for his mother.
One way or another, soon, he was going to get them.
Eddie looked over the people at the Festival with a critical eye. Who here was most likely to actually know something useful? Who did he have to go to in order to get the answers he needed about his mother?
The old couple, the Campbells, didn’t seem all that different or important. They were just a stupid couple of old people who got off on treating this group of freaks like they were their grandkids. They reminded Eddie a lot of the two old farts who ran his last foster home. Nice enough, for fosters. But not a lot going on upstairs. These Campbells were the same kind of deal. The husband seemed to have moments when he was almost interesting. But the wife was just a big bag of sloppy sentimentality and eagerness to please. Eddie tried to stay away from people like that. They always wanted to treat you like a baby, and only one person was allowed to do that to Eddie, and she was missing.
The guy who seemed to be the leader was a typical modern techno-hippie. Not stupid like dumb stupid, but in Eddie’s estimation, there was a lot of ways to be stupid, and one of them was to have had such an easy life that you had no idea how the world really worked and so they went around thinking the world was rainbows and flowers and unicorn farts, ignoring the sharks and wolves and deep black holes that they merrily pranced over. They were good people, as far as it went, in Eddie’s experience. Just not very useful.
The family with all the kids was okay too. Eddie got along fine with kids of whatever age. When you are in the foster system, you learn to make friends with the other kids quickly so you can form alliances and find out what the real score was in this home. What the rules where, what the fosters liked, what they hated, things to do around the house to prove you were “adjusting” and “settling in”, things to never do because it made the fosters lose their shit…. all this was priceless information for a new arrival, and the best was to get it was to be good at getting along with people.
He had been a little surprised that the oldest kid didn’t smoke. In his experience, everyone over 12 smoked. Sharing a smoke with another teenager was a great way to break the ice, it made you seem cool, gave you something to talk about, and immediately gave you a shared secret.
But whatever. He could get along with the straight arrows as easily as he got along with the bent nails like himself. Once you know what the rules are, getting along is easy.
He had played with the younger kids, chatted with the older ones, and been seen doing both often enough by the parents that he could probably come up with a pretense to start talking to them. And judging by the kids, these parents were no dummies. The oldest alone was smart enough to be dangerous. He was, in fact, the smartest person his own age that Eddie had ever met outside a foster home. Eddie liked him just for that.
And in his experience, you sometimes got dumb kids from smart parents, but you almost never got smart kids from dumb parents. He didn’t know if it was genetics or how they were raised or what. But if you got smart kids, the
parents were almost always at least college educated.
Eddie made a mental note to talk to them about this whole Lights thing and turned his attention to the older guy.
Eddie didn’t really want to go anywhere near that guy. All his years in foster care had taught him to be very, very wary of quiet older guys. In his experience, they were always the most dangerous people you met in the system. You never knew when one of them was going to haul off and smack you, or try to climb in bed with you in the middle of the night, or get arrested, or something. To Eddie, men over fifty were dangerously volatile elements to be given as wide a berth as you possibly could manage.
But he would probably end up having to talk to him anyway, because according to the kids, the older guy had been inches away from the Lights, practically, and so he might know something that the others didn’t. Eddie’s stomach clenched just thinking about it.
But he was tough. He was smart. He knew how to deal with dangerous people and stay safe.
And if things got too weird, well, he had his gun.
Eddie pretended to look through his backpack for something, and looked at the gun. Yup, there it was, looking sleek and lethal and powerful, right next to his bottle of Ritalin. Eddie smiled a little at that. Those were really the two paths in his life, weren’t they? Ritalin, and the gun.
Maybe tomorrow, it would be the Ritalin. But tonight…
He was certain that someone here knew something. He could feel it in the atmosphere. It was so thick, he could practically smell it. These people were not idiots. Not all of them, anyhow. There was something unique here, and Eddie was determined to grab hold of it somehow and make it his own.
One way or another, tonight would make all the difference.
But just then, a strange image appeared unbidden on the screen of Eddie’s laptop, and changed everything.
RanJan spoke into his open communicator. “Everyone at stations in five. ” He was pleased by how his voice sounded this time. Smooth, confident, controlled, not a hint of doubt or hesitation. Perfect.
Now if only he really felt that way. It was five minutes before Introduction, and while he was every inch the proper commanding Coord on the outside, on the inside he had the strong urge to screech and flap into the deepest, darkest corner he could find, and stay there until it was all over.
It was always like this right before Introduction. Most of the time, he was the best Coord in the fleet, and took pride in that. He was a veteran of many successful Boosts, and there were literally billions of Beings now enjoying Conference membership and a much greater level of civilization because him and his crew. His prestige was high, his family was happy, and he had no reason to worry, doubt, or question himself.
And he knew that. Most of the time.
But as Introduction drew near, all these comforting and comfortable facts flew out of his mind in a flock, and it took all his will to just stay calm, in control, and perform his duties like the legendary Coord he supposedly was. Right now, it was hard to remember that.
Okay. Deep breaths. Time for last minute checks.
Doctor was at his station, monitoring the Pax Curtain readings and making sure the Curtain’s effect was smooth and firm in those crucial minutes and hours after Introduction. The beings of Earth were about to experience a rather sharp paradigm shift, to put it mildly, and before they got used to the idea that aliens from outer space had shown up to save them from themselves, there was bound to be a lot of social chaos.
Hence the Curtain. Properly calibrated, the Pax Curtain would keep most kinds of intelligent life from doing violence while it was in effect. The beings could think or say whatever they wanted… this was not mind control, they were not turning the Earth beings into puppets or slaves. That would go against the entire ethos of Boosting. The Curtain just blocked the specific pathways in the beings’ minds that led to violence.
The exact effect varied from species to species, but for the most part, the beings simply found that when they tried to commit acts of violence against one another, they simply…. didn’t. Nothing happened. The impulse simply did not get translated into action.
That generally kept the adjustment chaos arising from Introduction from doing too much damage. There were always some accidents from the shock, and one being in a billion would turn out to be partially or entirely resistant to the Pax effect, but it was an imperfect Universe, and the consensus was that Boosting was worth it.
RanJan watched Doctor at work, tendrils wrapped around dozens of different controls, each capable of making the most minute of adjustments at any moment, and the Doctor’s mighty, mysterious mind perfectly capable of controlling all of them, paying full attention to his readouts, and be equally ready to Translate down to Earth should a hot spot in the Curtain develop and some earth Beings needed on-site medical care.
And all without breathing a sweat, or whatever the Uut equivalent would be. Dropping a leaf? Whatever. The point was, Doctor really was amazingly good at his job. Well worth the effort it took to put up with him. It was good to remind himself that.
Fendra was at her station, pecking at the occasional control, looking bored. Technically, she was there to make sure the multi-channel translator functioned during Introduction, and to be there in case The Jagq needed a sudden Social consult during his speech. Realistically, though, she would likely have nothing to do until Implementation was in full swing. Then, Social would be in control of the operation for the foreseeable future. But for now, it was just routine backup.
The only person more bored than Fendra was GrayUnderDark the Engineer. Regulations said the Engineer had to be there during Introduction in case sudden technical issues arose, but Gray clearly did not agree. She was confident enough in her prowess as a technologist that she found the very idea that anything would go wrong during Introduction to be personally insulting. So she was there, but she was sulking in the back of the room, pointedly grooming herself with her claws to emphasize her boredom.
That left only one being left to check, and that was the being who would definitely not be bored during Introduction, because he was the one who would be, as it were, the star of the whole show. He would be Ambassador, and the Ambassador’s duty was to be the official representative of the Dawnbringer to the beings they were Boosting, and that started with Introduction. From Introduction on, as far as the Candidates were concerned, the Ambassador was the Boost, and indeed, while most things up until this point had been planned and executed by RanJan as Coord, after Introduction, it would be pretty much the Ambassador’s mission.
And, so help the Holy Dark, this time it was going to be that ridiculous… fuzz-faced… cloud-headed…
RanJan calmed himself down with an effort of will. No matter what he thought of The Jagq, or what nearly everyone else thought of him for that matter, they were stuck with him as Ambassador and that was it. As hard to believe as it was, The Jagq had the training, the service record, and the IQ to do the job.
Somehow, that prime idiot always managed to get the job done, and done well. He just put everyone else’s nerves through a molecular shredder in the process.
Of course he gets the job done, brooded RanJan. If he didn’t, he would lose his post and then nobody would ever have to deal with his erratic methods and bizarre behaviour again. The only way he could continue to wreak havoc on the nerves and tempers of as many Beings as possible was to keep somehow managing to do the job. Anything else would be too just and merciful.
RanJan sighed, and looked The Jagq over to make sure he had cleaned up properly and wasn’t about to appear on every display device on Earth with food all over his face, or some other similar catastrophe. No, this time, the idiot in question had managed to used his autovalet properly, and without even getting himself trapped in it or accidentally dying himself bright yellow. Lovely.
The Jagq noticed his Coord’s gaze, and waved and smiled like a youngling seeing its father after a long absence. RanJan sighed internally and smiled back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. The fact that The Jagq idolized RanJan and was absurdly eager to please him did not, in fact, make RanJan’s life any easier. Quite the opposite. It meant that the slightest rebuke from RanJan could cause The Jagq to burst into tears, become so nervous he couldn’t even speak, or sulk in his Personal for hours. Working with The Jagq was liking working with a high strung child who happened to have an adult body and a grown-up job and more degrees and accolades in xeno-relations than Fendra had feathers.
Remembering that last part helped soothe RanJan’s nerves a little bit. Remember, he told himself, The Jagq is not an idiot. Not really. He is a brilliant academic with a fine mind. Whole schools of thought had been founded on his slightest musings. And it could not be denied, he had a strange but undeniable knack for presentation that bordered on a kind of trans-species charisma. Candidate species loved him, for some strange reason, and so the Boosters were stuck with him until he finally screwed up bad enough to lose his job.
And it would happen. RanJan was sure of it. And it was looking increasingly like it would happen on his ship, on his watch, on his service record. Nobody could stumble through life like The Jagq did without eventually ending in a huge crash, and it would be up to RanJan to put the pieces back together.
Now he was just as nervous as before. This would not do. RanJan closed his eyes and mentally uttered a quick but elaborate prayer to the Holy Dark for strength.
At least Fendra’s report showed that The Jagq’s appearance would go over well with the Earth beings. Apparently, his species, the Fass, had a strong resemblance to an Earth species group known as “bears”. From what RanJan had been able to glean from a quick skimming of the Earth biological database, these “bears” were rather formidable and dangerous omnivores of exceptional size and ferocity. Why anyone would find such a thing reassuring was beyond RanJan’s comprehension. But Fendra had reassured him that the Earth beings found “bears” charming, and even used depictions of them to teach their children. Their children even favored small representations of these “bears” rendered in cloth as their ersatz companions when very young. This, despite the fact that the species were not even closely related. Madness.
Oh well, that was certainly not the most bizarre aberration a veteran Booster like RanJan had seen.
RanJan took a deep breath to calm his nerves. The Jagq might be in charge after Introduction, but it was still the Coord job to initiate it. RanJan keyed open his communicator.
“It is time, Beings, that we Introduced ourselves. ”
From the Book of Jacq, the central text of the Newest Church of the Space Fathers and Child Humanity :
And all over the world, without exception, every single television, computer monitor, screen, display, and visual output device, from the smallest cell phone screen to the largest stadium Jumbotron, suddenly went blank for a moment, then showed an odd symbol, five tan dots arranged to form an arrow pointing up, each dot bearing words in a language that nobody on Earth yet spoke. This was accompanied by a five note melody of great beauty, played on an instrument that sounded like a choir of angels.
The symbol faded, and was replaced by the image of the Leader, as we all know and love him now. His eyes shining bright with benevolence, his smile broad and warm and understanding, his fur a rich brown, his round ears perked as if to listen to all humanity at the same time.
He gazed upon Child Humanity like the kindest of parents, and these words are the words that he spoke, verily :
“Greetings and hale health to all you wonderful beings of the beautiful and fertile planet Earth! Hello! I am the ambassador The Jagq, and yes, what some of you are already thinking is true…. I am an alien being, from outer space! Yes indeedy, a real live alien, born on a planet you cannot even see from here, with a unique biology and weird hands and feet, talking to you on your audiovisual screens! Is that not exciting? I wish I was you, seeing me for the first time! What a thrill it must be!
But I did not interrupt your busy and worthy days and nights and evenings and other parts of the day because I just wanted to see my silly face all over your world! No, no… I come here for a very important, enormous, and impressive reason! A wonderful, fantastic reason! I come here… to talk to you! All the way through space, just to talk to you nice and sanitary people! Isn’t that the coolest? Far out!
Now why, your excellent brains must be wondering, would a freaky alien come all this way to talk at us? Because I have a message, silly! And the message is this : we come in peace, take us to your leaders!
What, have you heard that one before? How clever of you!
But in mostly seriousness, we truly do come in peace, and we will need to talk to your leaders. I represent your brand new best friends and space comrades, the Conference of Beings, and we are here to help you raise your level of civilization over time so that you can join us as full members!
Now do not worry your nervous systems into shock, we come here as helpers and assistants and friends, not as conquerors or warriors or other big meanies! There will be no disc shaped flying things shooting down beams of death and exploding your world monuments, oh no no no! And also there will be no armies of troopers of the storm shooting their weapons willy nilly! We are nothing like that, rest assured, oh my, oh my!
We Beings of the Conference are peaceful, gentle, adorable beings who live in a great, raucous harmony with one another in a universal democracy of enlightened sentients! At our last accounting, we have over three thousand, five hundred, eighty nine species in our Conference, and we would be overjoyed to the point of giddiness to make you species number three thousand, five hundred, and ninety or so!
If you decide to accept our assistance and friendship, because after all to not do so would seem a little rude, then we will introduce ourselves to your large number of leaders, and give to them and to you all some very surprising and wondrous technologies that will make your lives so much better, you will wonder how you ever withstood your rotten old lives before you had them!
Soon, all of you will have the means to produce your own food and sundries from nothing but what you now call garbage! Yes, for advanced beings like us, it is not anything to rearrange molecules into whatever you like, no problemo, senor! You will not quite be able to make a luxury water vehicle from a handful of bugs, but you will be able to turn last night’s garbage into tonight’s luxury meal, and that is super good too, yes?
And do not concern yourself with how much energy this miraculous process will take, because once we are your BFFs, energy will never worry you again. A small device no bigger than a paperback novel from a verbose author will power your average city, and in a couple of thousands of years, when it runs down, we will be happy to show you how to recharge it! No problem! We are cool like that!
We have also examined your admirably efficient biology, and are practically more certain than mathematically possible that we can repair all damages to your bodies, correct defects in your form, and rid you of all those nasty little unwanted freeloaders and parasites that pirate your bloodstream and your genome in order to cause you pain and mischief and death! Our Healing Technicians will soon, with your permission of course, be building Healing Centres throughout your lands and holdings, which of course will cure any beings who are capable of asking to be cured, and cure them but good! Of everything! And naturally, we will not be requiring any form of payment or compensation for this most basic service. We have no need or desire for your wonderfully decorative forms of value representative symbols, except perhaps as trinkets.
Finally, I must explain something that may prove to be a bit of a touchy subject between us. You see, it shames us to confess, we have already done something to this highly energetic and vigorous planet of yours. We have a device known as the Pax Curtain, an entirely peaceful and only minimally presumptuous device that creates a field which makes it impossible to commit an act of violence within it. It does no other thing, it merely prevents violent impulses from being translated into action. We tearfully admit that we have already established such a field over the entire surface of your world.
Do not freak out! We have only done this in order to protect you from chaos and violence and dying while you adjust to the great big heavy ball of crazy news we have just dropped into your playing area! This untoward abatement of your right to murder and hurt one another will only last for 14 rotations of your planet, after which you will once more be free to vent your enthusiasm for harm once more!
We only add that we are perfectly capable of establishing smaller areas of Pax Curtain coverage, as large as a continent or as small as one of your portable waste elimination kiosks, so that should any nation wish to retain Pax Curtain coverage, they have only to ask, and it shall be done.
Silly as it may sound, some people do like it!
Also, in the moderate future, once we nice aliens have sufficiently interfaced with your vibrant system of consumer goods distribution, you will be able to purchase a personal sized Pax device which you may keep on your person and prevent violence to yourself. Of course, you will not be able to do violence either!
One more gift we give to you just because we are such nice friends : we have machines that can easily purify your atmosphere and waters. Such machines around around the size of a tractor and can easily be deployed over your world. If you accept, we can have your planet’s ecosystem all clean and fresh within a few of your lunar cycles. It will be like having a whole new planet!
Anyhow, I have taken up enough of your time and attention. I shall soon be returning your displaying devices to their usual multitude of functions. But know this, wonderful beings of Earth : We are your friends, and we are here to help you in all things. Representatives from our people will be meeting with all of your governments in the next 14 rotations in order to offer them all the kinds of help we can offer. And tell you what, that is quite a lot of help!
So relax. Take deep, cleaning breaths. Enjoy the lack of mayhem. Take your time to think about the heavy trip I just laid on your noggins. A lot is going to change on your planet, but we promise, it will all be good! We are here to help you up the stairs of civilization, so that you can join us here in the Grooviness Zone and party down like it is 3099! Together, we will make your wonderful planet a happier, healthier, saner place to live, and once we have done that, we will help you to join the Conference of beings, and guess what?
Then you too will go to outer space, just like we do!
Until then, if you have questions, please point your data machines to our newly formed and highly stimulating web station at http://yournewalienfriends.com for more information, and a chance to talk with more real live aliens via our typing chat and visual chat facilities! Many of us here on our space ship would be physically tickled to converse with human beings over your Internetwork, and we can do that any way you please!
We can even talk to you via your telephonic transceivers, at the numerical address 1-888-4-ALIENS! Imagine that, we both will be talking to some real live aliens! That is certain something, isn’t it?
Until we speak again, then, go ponder your bright new future and do it knowing your benevolent and adorable space friends have come here to help you, and bring you love, enlightenment, assistance, and really neat gizmos!
See you in the stars, lovely human beings!”
Thus ended the first and holiest of the Leader’s powerful and mysterious messages. With that, this New and Truly Golden This Time Age of Humanity was born, and finally, Child Humanity was able to truly hope that it could become Adult Humanity, and quite a lot faster than previously thought.
May Their will be Done, amen and veritas!
RanJan relaxed… mostly. The idiot had managed to complete his duties as Ambassador during Introduction without bringing disgrace and disaster down upon their heads…. this time. The Jagq had covered all the most important points for Introduction, and done it in his erratic yet inexplicably charming (to some) style without verring off into personal tangents or saying anything that was sure to spook the Candidates. A part of RanJan’s mind insisted on going over and over The Jagq’s speech looking for hidden traps or other things sure to bite them on their sitting ends in the future, but for now, RanJan was mostly willing to get back to work.
First, the routine status reports. “Doctor, status report for your station. ”
Doctor, as usual, seemed to be coming back from another dimension entirely when you interrupted him during work. It was fifteen impatient seconds before Doctor remembered to get out his Enunciator out and reply. “All statuses are nominal, Coord Ranjan. The Pax Curtain is performing well, although naturally, it is enduring considerable strain during this trying time. In fact, it’s a bit more strain than is usual in these situations, but the Curtain’s buffers can easily handle it. My compliments to the Engineer and her marvelous attuning of the Curtain. I am certainly glad that my small contribution of parameters could in some minimally signifigant way contribute to such a worthy mechanism. Were my parameters sufficient, Engineer GreyUnderDark?”
RanJan turned to look at Gray, who looked irritated and bored. In other words, normal, for her at least, thought RanJan. It was still “her”, right? Another careful sniff. Hard to tell with all the other smells of a busy workroom, but he thought so, yes. Mental note, check the ship’s sensors later.
RanJan quirked an eyebrow at Gray. “Well, Engineer GrayUnderDark? Were the Doctor’s parameters sufficient?”
Gray growled dismissively and said “Of course. Now can I please leave?”
RanJan narrowed his eyes. She had been flouting protocol and getting away with it just a little too much lately. He decided she needed to be reined in a little.
“Engineer GrayUnderDark, you will leave when I tell you to leave and no sooner, and you certainly will not leave before you have submitted your full status report to me, right now. ”
Gray rolled her eyes, but then cleared her throat, padded over to a vacant work station, brought up her personal display, and said “Yes, Coord. All technologies functioned well within tolerances during Introduction. No breakdowns, no malfunctions, no anomalies. Sensor, propulsion, energy generation, life support, navigation, planetary effect, secondary, and auxiliary systems are all functioning per specifications. All the Translation kiosks are charged and ready to beam down workers down to the surface for technology deployment and liaison. We are go status from Engineering. ”
RanJan nodded approvingly to Gray. A crisply perfect status report, delivered with just the tiniest hint of impertinence. Gray’s way of saying “So there!”, RanJan assumed. He chose to ignore the impertinence and accept the report as-is. Such things were not worth pursuing and the superior nearly always ended up losing face in such confrontations. However, he was not going to give her permission to leave just yet.
Instead he turned to Fendra and said “How about you, Social? Status?”
Fendra chirped in surprise, then said “Everything went sweet as springtime, oh mighty Coord. A few of my aggression and panic indices are a little higher than usual for this kind of critter, I mean, Candidate, but nothing significant. It is the usual panicking and flailing down there, but like the Doctor said, the Curtain is doing fine and none of our new little friends are getting themselves hurt. It is too early to tell for sure, but our new friends seem to be handling the Big News Flash like we would expect them too. Must be quite a party down there right now. Everybody telling everyone else. We already have millions of visitors to the website and thousands of downloads of the video of The Jacq’s speech. Pretty soon, they will be starting religions and yelling at each other about what it all means. Things should settle down in a rotation or two. ”
RanJan nodded again. “Excellent work as always, Fendra. Now unless there is anything else, you may… ”
Just then, RanJan noticed that The Jacq was desperately and energetically waving his paws at RanJan, trying to get his attention. This is new, thought RanJan, with a sinking feeling in both his stomachs.
The Jacq cleared his throat melodramatically and, brimming with pride, said “My status report, Coord, is as follows! I am feeling fine, and think I did a pretty good job! I used many excellent phrases, and put them together into big important sounding sentences, without being too stuffy or dull! I said all the things I am supposed to say, and almost none of the things I am not supposed to say! In summation, all my systems are nominal enough, and so we can all go home now because of me! The End!”
RanJan sighed, partly in frustration, partly in relief. Frustration with The Jagq and his apparently inexhaustable ability to find new ways to be irritating and unhelpful, and relief that this particular permutation seemed harmless enough, except perhaps to his nerves.
“Very good, Ambassador. You did your usual dependable job and all in all, this has been a highly competent Introduction, and I am proud of all of you. Now return to your departments. We still have a hell of a lot of work to do!” said Ranjan.
And with that, the five leaders went back to their offices and started on the real work of Boosting.
Even though the strange bear-thing’s image had faded from the screen of Eddie’s laptop minutes ago, they all still found themselves staring at it.
Ted Langley was the first of them to speak. “What the fuck was that, some kind of Internet crap? ” Someone, they all knew it wasn’t, but it needed to be asked anyhow.
“No. ” said Eddie quietly, “I had nothing to do with that. But I seem to have a new file on the desktop of my computer. It… claims to be a copy of the speech I just saw. But I didn’t do anything to record it. This file… it just showed up. That shouldn’t be possible. ”
Just then, Claude Campbell emerged from his trailer with a portable radio in his hand. “I just heard the damnedest thing on the radio here… interrupted This American Life and everything, and no matter where I turned the dial, I was hearing the same damned thing. Some cockamamie joker talking about aliens and violence and some other fool kind of things, I don’t know, I never liked science fiction very much. Now which one of you smartasses did this? Because it has the wife all upset now, and that’s just not right. She thinks the aliens might really be coming, but that’s ridiculous. So which one of you was it?” His voice was strained and it was clear that Claude was dealing with a lot of strong emotions and barely keeping them in check. It was so radically different from his usual affable, down to earth self that Jim Ducette began to wonder, truly wonder, what the hell was really going on. Could that message have been… for real? First the kid’s laptop, and now Claude’s radio?
Then Tyler showed up on his stripped down BMX, sending a spray of sand up when he braked too hastily. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…. but the most.. listen, did you… I just saw… ”
The kid is freaking out, thought Jim. “Tyler! Tyler, calm down. Take a few deep breaths and settle down a little, and then you can tell us whatever it is you came here to tell us. ”
Tyler nodded rapidly, then closed his eyes and took two long, deep breaths. When he opened his eyes again, he spoke. “Right, right. Okay. Listen, me and the family were just watching Bones when, totally out of nowhere, this other video comes on and it’s some fuzzy faced guy talking about how he was an alien and how there’s a whole bunch of aliens and they are here to help us and it was on every channel and… and, and, did any of the rest of you see it? Dad sent me here to find out. What the hell was it?”
Jim cleared his throat. Time to lead, he supposed, even though his head was reeling and what he really wanted to do more than anything else right now was to go to sleep and pretend none of this every happened. “I think it’s safe to say, Ty, that nobody knows any more than you do about what the hell is going on. But the message showed up on Eddie’s laptop, Claude’s radio, and now your television.”
Tyler nodded again, and said “Plus Mom says there’s now a copy of it on our DVR, even though none of us told it to record it. ”
“They put a copy of it on my computer without asking too, Ty, and that shouldn’t be possible with all the security programs I have running. ” And Eddie did not like that at all. His laptop was his lifeline, his best friend, his companion, his home. Anything that violated it, violated Eddie. He was not pleased.
Jim Ducette’s mind was blazing with thoughts. He could not, for the life of him, think of any form of technology that would allow for such an elaborate hoax. To hijack all those forms of media all that the same time, just to pull a fast one on somebody…and of all people, why them? Who were they to anybody? The world saw them, if it glanced in their direction at all, as a bunch of harmless crackpots with a slightly odd reason for camping together every year. They all knew each other, more or less, and they didn’t advertise themselves or protest anything or promulgate their message (if they had one) or do anything else that might attract the attention of pranksters or skeptics or any sort of government heat. Most people (outside UFO circles and a few Phoenix area newshounds with long memories) had no idea who Jim Ducette was, let alone what the Festival was. Even the name “Festival of Lights” was not exactly original to them and their little event was not even on the first page of results on Google for that term. They were, in Jim Ducette’s sober estimation, safely lodged in total obscurity, and that is exactly how he liked it. At his age, Jim was quite firmly in the “don’t bother others and they won’t bother you” stage of life, and it had never occurred to him that this might fail him at some point.
But even if they had trod on someone’s toes, surely they had not offended enough to justify the sort of retribution that this would represent. Jim wasn’t sure how this level of interference was even possible, but if it was, it was surely extremely expensive and time-consuming. To whom could it possibly be worth that kind of extraordinary expense just to harass some entirely benign kooks? It just did not add up. Unless…
What if we aren’t the only ones? What if this same message was being received all over the state, or even all over the USA? It might not be worth it to anyone to harass a small group of cranks but it might well be worth it to hoax the whole country. He had to find out, and fast.
Jim said to Eddie “hey kid, you got the Internet on that thing yet?”
“Yeah, at a speed so slow I could get the information faster via sempaphore. ” grumbled Eddie. “Tyler lent me a WiFi repeater so I could use their home network. ”
“Then can you check if anyone else has seen this crazy message? This has got to be bigger than just us. ”
“Yeah, okay. ” replied Eddie, doing his best to hide how impressed he was with Jim’s sudden leadership. He was right, this couldn’t be just them. Shit. He hated having to respect people.
Eddie then did what he always did when he wanted to know about the latest breaking news story. He went to Fark.com and looked for it there. And there it was, the second headline down from the top (“I, For One, Am Shocked At How Our New Pedobear Overlords Have Been Treated), sandwiched in between a story about a truckload of hot dog buns spilling all over a Pennsylvania highway (“Pennsylvanians Spread Their Buns Wide On The Highway”) and an elderly made from Florida who thought it would be a good idea to microwave the gasoline before he put it in his lawn mower “so it wouldn’t have to heat up before he could start it” (“If I Told You Someone Destroyed Their House By Microwaving Gasoline, You Already Know What State This Is From, Right?”).
Holy fuck, this is really happening, thought Eddie as he numbly clicked the link. The link led to an AP story about the phenomenon. According to the Associated Press, thousands of people, possibly even millions, had seen the message in America alone, and scattered reports from all over the world suggested it was a global phenomenon. Details were sketchy, but it seems that this mysterious message appeared simultaneously on millions of televisions, computer monitors, display screens, and was even heard on the radio at the same time. There are also reports that video files containing the message have mysterious appearing on computers and PVRs all over the world, and that boxes containing videotapes and DVDs of the message have mysteriously appeared outside television and radio stations all over the world. Skeptics have pointed out that the message itself could easily have been faked, but are at a loss as to how such a thing could be distributed as this message was. This story will update automatically as further information develops.
One last chance, thought Eddie as he went back to Fark and clicked on the comments thread. Unsurprisingly, it already had over a thousand comments and more were coming in at lightning speed. Eddie skimmed through the firs two hundred or so, looking for what he feared would not be there. And he was right to fear. Nowhere could he find a link or a comment completely debunking the message (or The Message, as some were already calling it) and explaining how it was done and who was responsible. And if the sharks of skepticism that were continually circling the Internet looking for things to debunk had not torn this thing apart yet…
… Eddie wasn’t really ready for what that might mean yet. So he decided to kick the problem upstairs. Hating himself for it, he decided to leave the problem in Jim’s hands.
“Uh, looks like… like people all over the world saw the same thing. Millions of people, maybe, on millions of computer screens and televisions and shit. Doesn’t look like anyone can explain it yet. ”
“I see. Good work, Eddie. ” said Jim, and then lapsed into a thoughtful silence, and thus missing the startled look on Eddie’s face that his compliment had generated.
It really was happening everywhere, thought Jim. All over the world. If it was a hoax, it was a hoax on an unprecedented scale. He could not imagine why anyone, a person or a group, would perpetrate such an expensive and elaborate hoax. It made no sense, it didn’t add up, it just… did not parse.
And there was still the issue of the files being slipped onto various devices. Putting a file on someone’s laptop desktop was certainly possible, although doing it to thousands of computers all over the world at the same time was a daunting challenge just on the basis of bandwidth alone. But slipping a file onto people’s PVRs? Most of them didn’t even have Internet access. Why would they?
And he had no idea how you would make something appear on everyone’s display devices at the same time. Not without using so much energy that your potential audience would be dead before they saw anything.
So really, it couldn’t be a hoax. As someone who had fought in the trenches against the mocking skeptics of the world, Jim was extremely familiar with the argument that sometimes, the “reasonable” explanation was even less probable than the “fringe” explanation. If in order to explain away something which seems to make no sense, you have to posit the existence of a vast, intricate, and hitherto entirely unknown conspiracy doing something for no discernible reason at staggering expense, and might even have to invent a few brand new technologies to explain how they did it, that theory clearly did not meet the test of Occam’s Razor. A string of suppositions like that was simply not logically supportable. It just could not be a hoax.
But if it wasn’t a hoax, then what was it?
Could it really be…. real?
Jim shook his head. This was too big for him. He had to spread the load. He was just thinking in circles, afraid of where his thoughts were leading him.
He stood up, cleared his throat a few times to get everyone’s attention, and said “We need to have a meeting about this. It’s too big for any of us to handle. Ty? Tyler? Go back home and ask your parents if we can use their home as a meeting space, then come back to me with the answer as soon as possible, okay?”
Tyler nodded quickly and got back on his bike, but paused to ask “Why our place? Don’t we usually meet out here at the campsite?”
Jim nodded. “Yeah, we do, but this time, I think….. ” and involuntarily glanced up at the sky that had seemed so simple and beautiful a brief lifetime ago, and now seemed so different. Closer. Crowded. Fraught with meaning and potential menace.
“… I think we will all be more comfortable inside. ” Jim finished.
Tyler glanced up for a moment as well, then gulped and nodded again, and was off.
Jim watched the boy’s tire tracks, gouged into the desert sand, disappear off into the night in the direction of his parent’s nearby home. He wondered if they always looked like that, so clear and dark against the sand, and he had just never noticed before, or if this too, had changed.
He realized he was focusing on minutiae in order to keep himself from thinking about what he didn’t want to think about. That was no good, he had responsibilities, he had to stay focused.
He spent the time waiting for Tyler’s return visiting with the Campbells, making small talk and subtly making sure they seemed to be in good health. You never heard them complain about anything, so there was no way to know if they were sick or healthy except by watching them. And a shock like what was going on tonight… well, they were getting up there, and you can’t be too careful at that age.
But they seemed fine to him, down to earth and cheerful as ever. They did not seem to be taking what they had heard on the radio very seriously. That was probably for the best, overall. Jim wasn’t sure he could handle the possibilities himself, and he was a lot younger. He wasn’t sure Tress Grayson could handle it, and she was practically a baby.
When Tyler returned, red-faced and panting, to call out Jim’s name, Jim had just been asking Margaret how she managed to do so much canning every year. Jim excused himself politely and went to talk to Tyler.
“OK, OK…. Mom says you can use our dining room for the meeting, no problem. Dad’s putting the extra leaf in the table and Mom’s gathering the chairs together. They sent Tress and Lisa for snacks. Dylan…. I don’t know what Dylan is doing. Probably something stupid, knowing him. Uh…. that’s it, right? Is there anything else you want me to do?”
Jim smiled. It pleased him to see Tyler warming to responsibility so easily. “You can help me by telling everyone you can find to head to your house for the meeting. It will go a lot faster with your help. ”
Tyler nodded and zipped off once again.
Jim smiled, then headed toward the Grayson’s house. It was about a ten minute walk. Best to get started now, and let the boy do the “gathering in”.
Eddie watched him walk away. Once again, nobody was thinking of him. Well that’s just fine. He had never been much of a “joiner” anyhow. Who needed them? Still….
Eddie fought a brief and decisive battle with himself, then followed behind Jim, even risking leaving his giant kitbag behind at his “campsite”.
But not before taking something out of it first.
Things seemed a little more reasonable and approachable once they were all inside, sitting around a big dining room table, a plastic cup of their favorite generic soda in their hands. It was a simple, homey dining room, and the sheer mundanity of their surroundings did a lot to soothe the nerves of everyone present. Life had gotten a great deal weirder and more uncertain in the last half hour, and they needed all the help they could get in coping with it.
Jim drew and slowly exhaled five long, deep, clean breaths to calm himself, then said “Everybody! Can we have a little quiet so I can speak? Thanks, folks. First I would like to thank the Graysons for agreeing to host us at such short notice. Thanks, folks!”
A short smattering of applause followed. Jane Grayson blushed and smiled, Dell looked proud. The kids giggled.
“Now before we all start talking about… what has been happening lately, I think we should get every up to speed on what we know so far. ”
Nods and murmurs of assent. Well, here goes, thought Jim.
“First off, for those of you might not have heard, this message with the…. person claiming to be an alien was received by Claude and Margaret on their radio, Eddie on his laptop, and the Graysons on their television set. So for those of you who were wondering if you were the only ones who saw or heard it, no, you were not. I think we all did, in one way or another. ”
More nods and murmurs.
“Now, according to Eddie, we’re not the only ones. Eddie, would you like to explain?” said Jim.
Eddie looked startled at being suddenly called upon. He had assumed he would be ignored here like he was everywhere else. But he stood up (it seemed like the thing to do) and said “Uh… according to what I can find on the Internet, we are totally not the only ones who experienced this thing. There’s like, news of it happening all over the world, in all kinds of places, and on like every television screen and computer monitor in the world. This is way bigger than just us. This is…. is really, just….. it’s really really big. ”
Eddie sat back down, blushing furiously. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought.
“So as you can see, ” said Jim, “the whole world is going through this thing with us. We are not alone. ”
“That’s an understatement. ” said Ted, and a few people laughed. None of them were Ted.
“Well, Ted, that’s what we’re here to discuss, isn’t it? Whether we are alone or not. ”
Nods and silence as everyone thought that over. Everyone seemed calm on the surface, but Jim could feel the tension and worry running through that humble dining room like an electric current looking for a place to arc.
“Now the first thing on everybody’s mind has to be whether or not this whole thing is just a giant hoax. Is some joker in a bear suit trying to pull the wool over our eyes? And the truth is, folks, that it doesn’t look like it to me. I work with computers and electronics every day, and I can tell you, the sort of technology to pull all this off would be incredibly expensive if it even exists at all. What does the Internet say, Eddie?”
What, again? already? thought Eddie as he once more stood up. “Uh, yeah, so far nobody on the Internet has come up with an explanation of how it was done or who might have done it. From what anyone caln tell, the message was… uh, not a fake. ”
Eddie sat back down again. That time was better, thought Eddie. But please don’t call on me again, Mister Ducette. I don’t think I could take it, and besides, I don’t really know anything anyway.
Jim nodded to Eddie, then addressed the room. “So there you have it, folks. Everyone saw it, and it doesn’t seem to be a hoax. So then… what is it?”
A heavy silence fell, neatly crushing the party atmosphere that had been growing. Jim looked carefully at each person sitting at the table, trying to gauge their reaction, and figure out what they were thinking. He needed all of them on this one. It was more than one man could decide.
“Well it’s not…. it’s not what it says it is, that’s for sure. ” said Margaret Campbell. “I mean, it just couldn’t be, that’s ridiculous. It just can’t be. ”
A few uncertain nods. Jim waited a little while to see if anyone else would pick up the ball, then said “How do we know that, Jane? How do we know it can’t be what it says it is?”
Margaret sputtered, then said “It…. it just can’t be. Aliens from space coming to save us all, it’s just absurd on the face of it, it’s ridiculous. That sort of thing just doesn’t….” Jane went pale when she realized what she had been about to say.
Jim smiled, and quietly said “That kind of thing just doesn’t happen, Jane? Is that what you were going to say? How many times has each of us heard that when we were trying to tell people about the Lights? How many of us were told that sort of thing doesn’t happen, when everyone here saw it happened, knew it happened, and knew there were thousands of others who saw it too? Maybe another group of people could tell themselves they must be wrong, they didn’t see what they thought they saw, because that kind of thing just doesn’t happen. But not us. And if what Eddie says is right, millions of people around the world saw what we saw tonight. They are not going to be able to sweep this one under the rug. They are going to have to deal with it. ”
“But… but don’t you see, it’s not real, it’s just a joke, like… like when they had all those people running around like chickens with their heads cut off, convinced the Martians were landing, just because that fella with the big head…. what was his name, Claude?”
“Orson Welles. ” Claude Campbell supplied promptly.
“Right, right. ” said Margaret. “Orson Welles. He had all kinds of people thinking the Martians were landing because of that play of his, and it all turned out to be a big stupid joke. And that is all this is going to turn out to be, some idiot’s idea of a good time. ”
“That was the radio, Margaret, and that was way back when. Have you seen the video of it?” said Jim.
“Well, no, I haven’t…. ” Margaret replied.
“Eddie, bring it up on your laptop for everyone to see. Just so we all know what it is we are talking about. ”
“No, Jim, that’s not necessary. I didn’t know you could…. I don’t need to see… ” pleaded Margaret.
But Eddie had already brought the file up on his laptop, and turned it so everyone could see. They all watched the strange creature deliver his message again. Silence fell once more.
“Well it doesn’t matter.” said Margaret. “It’s all a bunch of low minded foolishness anyhow. You just wait, soon the news will tell us all how it was all done, and some fool will claim responsibility, and then we will all feel like grade A numbskulls for taking it all so seriously. ”
Jim nodded, and said “Is that your say, Margaret? Anything else to add?”
Margaret shook her head.
Jim nodded again, and said “Well Margaret, I am sure you are not the only one who thinks that. It would certainly make our lives a lot easier if we could all go to bed and wake up in the morning and find out this whole thing had been explained away. But I don’t think that is going to happen, Margaret. We are just going to have to deal with it like it is real for now. Anyone else want to say something?”
Dell Grayson spoke up. “Listen…. if this thing is for real, and I am not saying it is… no disrespect to you, Jim, but I am not ready to accept that yet…. but just for the moment, let’s say it is true. Then… isn’t this what we have wanted all these years? Proof, something they couldn’t ignore?”
Ted shook his head. “All I ever wanted was answers. I wanted to know what I saw that night, what flew over me so close that I could have reached out and touched it. I never said I thought it was aliens or anything, I just wanted some kind of answer I could believe in and get on with my life. But I never got it. ”
Jim was surprised to hear all this. For one thing, that was more words in a row than Ted usually said in a whole Festival. But more than that, he never knew Ted was not necessarily looking for the exact same thing that the rest of them were. It just goes to show, Jim thought, that you never really truly know people.
Jim nodded to Ted and said “Thank you for sharing that with us, Ted. Well, Dell? How do you respond to that?”
Dell sighed, and said “Well, I guess I am a little disappointed, because to me, it’s always been clear that it had to be some sort of alien life that we all saw that Marsh 13. I mean, what else could it be? Nothing on Earth could do what the Lights did, and I don’t know about the rest of you, but I saw the craft. And it was huge. Nobody on Earth could make a thing like that. It sure as hell wasn’t military flares. ”
They all laughed, a little nervously, at that. The “military flares” explanation for the Lights was a favorite target for derision amongst this small group. Sure, it was military flares, dropped by no known military vehicle (there were none in the area that night, according to military and FAA records), that happened to fly across the sky without falling while staying in perfect formation with one another, and happened to look nothing like military flares at the time. Sure, that’s plausible. Right.
Jim laughed too, then said “I think we are all in agreement about those fucking flares, Dell. ” Nods and smiles all around. Laughter made some things not hurt so much. “But back to the topic of discussion… look, I have told you all why I don’t think it could be a hoax, or at least, if it’s a hoax, it has to be the biggest, most expensive, most widespread hoax in the history of the world. But hoax or not, I think we have enough to go on to at least talk about the possibility of this message being for real. ”
Jane said “So… we are really going to talk about this? This being… what if aliens from outer space have come here to save us all from ourselves and make the world into a paradise?”
“Yes we are, Jane. At least, that’s why I called this meeting and it’s what I would like us to discuss. ”
Margaret muttered under her breath, “Of all the foolish… ”
Jim replied “Hush now, Margaret, you had your say and we all know what you think. So what about it, folks? What if the aliens really have come to save us? What then?”
A long, long pause, with a few people making noises like they were going to speak, but couldn’t really make the words come out. It was too hard to put something this big into words.
Finally, it was Eddie who said “If they are really… up there, and down here too… if this is all really real… then I guess we should all be really happy about it. ”
Silence. Eddie added “Well? Shouldn’t we? I mean, they are going to fix up everything and make everything better, right? We should be glad that someone came along to take over and clean up our mistakes and teach us not to be such irresponsible dicks about everything. ”
“Wait, wait, who said anything about them taking over? The uh… the alien said they were just here to help us so we can join this Conference thing of theirs. They never said they were taking over!” said Dell.
“Oh come on! ” sneered Jane. “Do you really think that if they have all this power and technology, they are going to just come down and be buddy buddies with us and get nothing in return? Are we a bunch of ignorant savages who are going to be duped into saying ‘Golly gee, thanks for the trinkets, Massah. Sure you can have all those pretty shiny rocks over there.”? ”
“You come on!” replied Dell. “I mean… come on, honey, what could we have that these aliens could possibly want? If they can travel through space and broadcast a message all over a planted and even slip recordings into people’s DVRs, plus put up this Pax thing, then what could we dumb old mud-eating savages offer them that they couldn’t just whip up or go get themselves a lot easier?”
“I don’t much like the idea of this Pax thing. Whether or not to commit violence is not a choice to be left up to some aliens in a spaceship. It’s up to each individual to decide. ” said Ted.
“But why would you want to do something violent when nobody can be violent against you, Ted?” countered Dell.
“I don’t rightly know, Dell, but I would still prefer to have the option. ”
“For that matter, say this Pax thing really works.” said Jane. ” Well, what better way to take over and make us all slaves than to make us unable to fight back? Make us all peaceful, docile sheep, unable to resist being herded and sent to the shearing or the slaughter?”
“But again, ” said Dell, ” why would they bother? what could we have that they would want, Jane?”
“Who knows? Maybe water is more precious than gold where they come from. Maybe human meat would fetch a high price on alien eBay. Maybe they get high by snorting alligator sung. Who knows? I am just saying we can’t afford to assume they are friendly just because they say they are friendly. We have to stay on guard. ”
“Oh, you have been watching too many science fiction shows!” snapped Margaret.
“Science FICTION? Science FICTION? How can you talk about science FICTION at a time like this? People, this isn’t science FICTION, this is REALITY, this is what is really happening RIGHT NOW. ” Jane was on her feet now, and pacing. “This is the biggest thing ever to happen in human history! Everything is going to change now, nothing will ever be the same. These aliens have come here and shown us they can take whatever they want from us, whenever they want, and I think that is a very good reason to be a little cautious, don’t you?” A pause, and then, “Assuming this crazy message is for real, of course. ”
“Right.” said Jim. “Assuming that. ”
“But wait, ” said Dell, “where do we get the idea that they have that kind of power? So far all they have done is send us a friendly message. They haven’t done anything to show that they have overwhelming military power. They just have some gizmos we don’t have yet. ”
“What, you think they plan on fixing the whole planet with pipe cleaners and string?” said Jane.
“And what about that Pax thing? If they can really make us all unable to do anything violent…. literally turn every single human being on the planet into a total pacifist… that kind of suggests they have not just power, but power beyond anything we can understand. ” said Claude.
“You’re right.” said Dell. ” If that Pax thing is for real, that is a lot of power. But I don’t buy it… I don’t feel any different. Do you?”
“Oh, so you are willing to believe the aliens are here to save us, but not that they can put a mind control beam on the whole planet? That’s where you draw the line?” said Jane.
“Hold up, Jane, Dell has a point. How do we know this Pax Curtain thing is for real? ” asked Jim.
“Why would they come all this way just to lie about something that can so easily be disproved?” said Claude.
“Disproved how?”
Silence fell once more, then Claude said “Well, I guess someone could try to take a poke at somebody. ”
“Oh, really, Claude!” said Margaret.
“OK, I will volunteer as target. ” said Jim, standing up and squaring his shoulders. “Now we just need someone to try to punch me. ”
“I can’t believe we are actually doing this. ” said Jane.
“Anyone want to volunteer? Come on, if you end up hitting me, I won’t get mad. Nobody? OK, I’ll pick… ”
Not me, not me, please not me, I like it here, thought Eddie. The flaming drums were already pounding in his head from everything he had been through tonight. He didn’t need anything that would make them even louder.
“Eddie! You’re a strong young man. Come take a poke at me. ”
Eddie stood up and went over to Jim. Here it comes, Eddie thought dully. Why does this always happen? Why can’t things just stay good?”
“OK now Eddie, give it your best shot. Try to punch me in the face. ”
Eddie nodded, and said to himself, he asked for it. He hauled back, and…. nothing. Eddie’s brow furrowed in concentration as he really tried to throw a punch at Jim. There was no pain, no discomfort, he felt the same as always, just… nothing happened when he tried to throw a punch.
“I can’t. ” Eddie announced. He wiggled his fingers and stomped his feet, just to check. “I can do anything else, but I can’t throw the punch. ” The burning drums were much louder and hotter now. Please let this be it, thought Eddie. No more, no more.
“Well OK, Eddie. Now get you dukes up, kid, and I will try to punch you. ”
Please God no, said a little voice deep inside him, but he mechanically raised his fists. Any second now, Jim will hit me, and there will be nothing I can do to stop it, thought Eddie. He will hit me and then it will happen and all he could do was watch it coming, like a train was coming and he was tied to the tracks.
Jim faced Eddie, fists raised, but all he did was stand there stock still with a look of intense concentration on his face. After thirty seconds of this, he laughed and lowered his fists. “The kid is right, I can’t do it. I can think of doing it, I can want to do it, I just can’t actually do it. Weird. ”
“See, this is just what I am talking about!” said Jane. “If they can do this to us, what’s to keep them from doing whatever they want to us?”
“Of all the nonsense…. no aliens from outer space can keep you from doing what you want with their invisible space beams! ” insisted Margaret. “You are all talking like crazy people just because you saw some crazy thing on the Internet or something… ”
“But Margaret, you heard it to!” interrupted Claude.
“Look, I think Jane has a point. If they can reprogram our brains without us even knowing, who knows what else they could do to us? We have to figure out some way to resist. ” said Jim. “I don’t mind telling you, I don’t like the feeling I get when my body doesn’t do what I told it to do. ”
Shut up, shut up, shut UP, thought Eddie.
“But how can resist? We literally can’t fight back. ” said Dell.
“That’s not true. ” said Claude. “We just can’t fight back with violence. There’s always passive resistance. You know, like Gandhi used. Peaceful protests, civil disobedience, petitions. That kind of thing. ”
“Oh, I am so sure aliens with the power to cross interstellar space are going to bow down to a strongly worded letter of protest. ” spat Jane.
“The British were a lot more powerful than the people of India, and yet, Gandhi freed them with passive resistance. This is no different. ” said Dell. “And besides, it’s not like they can come down and crush us like this is Tianamen Square, not with that Pax Curtain on. ”
“Assuming it works on them too. ” said Jane. “It might just work on us dumb savages. ”
“Oh God, I hadn’t even thought of that. ” said Dell. ” Maybe we should try to set up some kind of defense. But what can we do against them without any kind of violence? ”
“Maybe we could build booby traps. ” said Claude, thoughtfully. ” After all, it’s not an act of violence to put the cheese in the mousetrap, right? The violence comes later. ”
“That might work. ” said Jane. “Assuming they can’t just detect something like that. ”
SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP, thought Eddie frantically. The burning drums were beating so hot and so fast that it was all one long hot painful blur behind Eddie’s temples. He felt a weight in his inner coat pocket. He knew he had brought something to the meeting tonight. But what? He couldn’t remember. Not with all that noise in his head.
“We have to assume that they can’t. ” said Jim. “But what would we use? Bear traps? Dynamite? Hand grenades?”
“This is started to sound less like the World War Three and more like Wile E. Coyote!” joked Dell.
Everybody (except for Eddie) laughed. Eddie just pressed his wrists agains his temples. He wasn’t even thinking thoughts any more. He was just suffering, and waiting. Waiting.
“Look, I am all for protecting myself and my family. ” said Dell, exchanging a glance with Jane, “but are we really willing to try to kill one of these aliens?”
“I am. ” stated Claude flatly. ” I fought Hitler to keep him from taking over the world and turning us all into mindless citizens. I am sure as hell not going to let some bunch of critters from space do it. ”
Jim sighed. “Yeah, I guess I am willing to do it too, if it’s a matter of… ”
SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!” screamed Eddie, rising to his feet. At the same time, his hand dipped into his pocket and drew out his gun, the one he knew he had brought. As people screamed, he pointed the gun at the ceiling and fired three times. “Just… all of you, shut the fuck up! Shut the FUCK UP! Stop talking, or the next bullet goes through you!”
Dead silence except for the sound of a child crying off in the distance. “OK, now… now just listen! Just… listen to someone besides your own damned selves for a minute! I can’t believe it, I can’t fucking believe it! This is the best thing that has ever happened, like, ever, and you grownups just can’t wait to fuck it up before it even starts, just like you fuck up everything else! It’s your fault the Earth is in the state it’s in, and when someone comes along who might just be able to fix the mess you have made of everything, the first thing you want to do is find a way to kill them! Kill them, like fucking jungle men sticking missionaries in a pot! You don’t understand it, so you want to fucking kill it! Well I am not going to let it happen, you hear me? I will do… whatever it takes… to make sure you guys don’t end up killing aliens and making them give up on us and leave to help someone who deserves it more! You got that? And I won’t be the only one, you will see…. a lot of people my age are fed up with how things are going and we will be on the side of the aliens, every time!”
Eddie paused for breath. The burning drums in his head were still pounding. He pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, forgetting for the moment that it was the one with the gun in it. The cold steel felt soothing against his forehead. Eddie felt the room begin to warp and sway around him, and considered just letting himself pass out and then this would be over.
But then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Jim trying to sidle up on him for an ambush, and zap, everything was crystal clear and he was mad as hell again.
He whirled on Jim and pointed the gun at him. Margaret gasped a stifled gasp. “God damn it, not you too, Jim! Fuck, are any of you even listening? What does it take to get your attention? What does a guy have to do to get you older people to listen to him when even pointing a gun at your head won’t do it?”
The burning pain was like starfire behind his temples now, and again the room started to loose its cohesion around him. Not yet, he shouted into his mind. Not until I do something. And then he knew.
“Well I know what will get your attention. If I put a hole into Jim boy here. I have a confessions for you, Jim. I wasn’t really trying to hit you earlier. I just told you what you wanted to hear. But I have a new test. This should be very scientific. I am going to do my level best to shoot you in the fucking head, and if can’t do it, the aliens are real, OK? And if I can, well, don’t worry…. I’ll be next. ”
With that, Eddie raised the gun, pointing it directly at Jim’s head. This feels right, thought Eddie. I know it’s wrong, but it feels so right. The hot drums had gone silent and a glorious ice cold certainty, solid and perfect and complete, had replaced it. This had been what they had wanted, those drums. That’s all it took, figure out what the drums wanted and do it, and everything became perfect. Now all he had to do was pull the trigger, and the process would be completely, and he could rest. Forever.
Just do it, he told himself. Just do this one thing, be strong enough for this one thing, and we can forget everything else forever.
He held the gun on Jim, who had frozen in place and was now staring at him with big, wide eyes. Oh, now I have your attention, do I? thought Eddie. Well it’s too fucking late. You should have listened to me the first time. You should have respected me in the first place. You shouldn’t have pretended to like me and then turned your back on me when things got a little crazy. It all ends now.
Eddie felt the energy building in him. Just do it, do it, do it! sang an angelic voice within him.
“Hey gang, is this a closed meeting, or can any old critter from outer space join in?” said a voice none of them recognized. Everybody turned, and what they saw surprised them more than anything else had that evening.
It was like a tall, broad, gangly human man in shape. Nine feet tall, broad like a quarterback, but with thin limbs, and where hands would be, there was instead a cluster of light purple tentacles with suckers on them, like an octopus’. The face was the same light purple, but mostly human in configuration. The eyes were almond shaped and solid rippled gold except for star-shaped pupils. There were three holes where the nose should be, and underneath was a surprisingly human mouth, with lips, teeth, and gums. The rest of the creature was concealed under a salmon pink garment that gave the impression of being a trenchcoat without quite being one.
“Holy crap, everybody, it’s an alien!” said the creature, smiling brightly. “Right here in your house! Quick, get out the pitchforks and the tinfoil hats!”
The creature waited a few moments, then said “But seriously… I suppose I should take care of this little unfortunate tableau before I introduce myself. ” It strode over to Eddie, who by now was trembling and sweating with the effort of trying to shoot Jim, and very gently slid the gun from his hand. “Don’t pop an O-ring, kiddo. It never would have worked. But we will talk later about that head full of bad wires of yours, OK? Trust me, my people can fix that up for you. You’ll be just like new. ”
The creature then went back to the entrance of the room, and said “So, can an alien get a chair around here? Jane, you got one more?”
Jane wordlessly went and got the alien a chair. It was a plastic lawn chair, but the alien didn’t seem to notice.
“OK, now we’re cookin’. ” said the alien. It sat in the offered chair, and put what for all the world looked like a battered old briefcase on the table, and popped it open. “Let’s get the boring stuff out of the way, and then you nice folks and I can get our chat on. ”
The alien cleared its throat ostentatiously, took out a sheaf of legal-looking documents, and said, in a rumbling baritone, managed to sound both officious and bored, “Greetings from the Conference, Candidate beings! The Being who is reading this to you is a duly sworn representative of the Conference, and is here to introduce you to the basics of Conference membership, and answer whatever questions you might have about what is to come. Please, greet it heartily, for it is your very good friend!”
The alien rolled its eyes, and said “Sheesh, who writes this stuff? Anyhow, yup, I’m an alien, I’m here to talk to you guys, etc etc. My name is… brace yourselves, Earthlings, you’re not gonna like this… my name is…” and then the alien made a noise that sounded like someone furiously attacking a blob of singing Jello with crude stone axes, “… but for obvious reasons, you can call me Hosephat, or Phat for short. ”
Phat looked over the crowd of blank, open gapes and said “This is the part where you all say ‘Hi, Phatty!”
A few people smiled, and a ragged chorus of “Hi, Phatty!” ensued.
Phat smiled warmly, and said “Now that’s more like it. Relax, folks, I might look freaky to you, but honest to goodness, I am not here to eat your brains or make you my slaves or do weird things to your orifices. I am just another sentient like you, and I am just here to help you nice beings adjust to all the weirdness coming down on your poor heads at a time like this. Trust me, I have been there… my species has only been part of the Conference for a few generations, and I am old enough to remember when my people got The Message. Trust me, we didn’t handle it any better than you!”
A smattering of laughter. Despite themselves, they were warming up to this odd stranger. Even the way his finger-tentacles lazily waved around as he talked didn’t seem that bad. Weird, but not bad.
“Now for that talk about the basics. All that stuff our fuzzy faced friend talked to you folks about tonight is just the beginning of your transformation for Conference membership. Proper health care, food, and a clean environment are just the basic package, things we would do for you even if we didn’t think you were going to end up as part of the Conference. I mean, come on. What kind of jerks would we be if we didn’t give you the basics? But in the future, me and my Booster buddies are going to be helping you great beings in all kinds of ways. We will send down diplomats to help negotiate peace treaties, and Pax Curtain treaties. You can think of this two weeks under the Curtain to be both for your own safety (my people just about went nuts after Introduction) and so you can find out what life without violence is like. A lot of folks find they like it, once it really sinks in that nobody can do them violence at all. I took that gun from Eddie’s hand to save him a lot of pain, not to save you people. You were never in any danger from Eddie here. ”
“I find that hard to believe. ” said Ted.
“Of course you do. Like I said, takes a while to sink in. Wait till your news media starts talking about how violent crime has dropped to zero. how all wars around the world have ended tonight, how absolutely no human being hurt any other human being with violence since our fuzzy faced friend said his piece. It will take a while, but eventually, you will believe, and it will be a revelation. When Pax came to my planet, my people, I was one of the last to believe, because I was a soldier, trained for war. But now…. I can’t imagine life without it. The feeling of security is amazing. Simply amazing. ”
“But doesn’t that take away our right to choose?” asked Ted.
“Damn right it does, Ted. That’s the whole point. But think about it like this… everything the Pax field inhibits is something that would be illegal in your culture anyhow. So your culture has already said ‘You do not have the right to choose these things’. This just does the same things those laws intend to do, but stops the problem at the source. No more violence, folks. It’s a big idea, but I think it’s a good one, and I hope you will too. The only morally justifiable use of violence is to defend against violence. That’s no longer needed. ”
“Does that mean the police are out of a job?” asked Jane.
“I’m afraid not, Jane. The Pax Curtain only stops physical violence. What it specifically blocks is the intent to harm another. That works beautifully well to block things like assault, rape, war, and other violent crimes, but the effect diminishes the further away from direct physical violence you get. For instance, theft is a kind of violence, and the Pax effect will cut that back a fair bit. But not entirely. It won’t do a thing to stop shoplifting, for one, because that’s not harm directed at any single person. But that’s not important, because we Conference people have our own way to eliminate theft. ”
“What’s that?” asked Jim.
This time Phat’s smiles was positively dazzling. “We give everyone everything they want. Works remarkably well. Why steal your neighbor’s goods when you already have as good, or better? And what you don’t have, you can get just by asking? Theft derives from scarcity, and we’ve eliminated that, for the most part. ”
“Hold on a damn second, then. ” said Ted. “What do people spend their money on, then?”
“Hoboy. This is another big one, folks, hold on to your suspenders. That’s a good question, Ted. I can only answer : What money?”
A few startled and indignant noises from those assembled.
Ted sputtered “Does that mean you’re going to take all our money away?”
Phat laughed, kindly, and said “Oh no. In fact, we’re not going to take anything away from you, ever. The Conference learned the hard way, a long long time ago, that the best way to make someone want something forever is to take it away from them. So even if we thought confiscation was ethical (and we don’t, trust me), we wouldn’t do it because it wouldn’t work. ”
“But then where did all your money go?” demanded Ted.
“Oh, I am sure there’s some of it around somewhere. ” said Phat offhandedly. “We just don’t use it any more. What for? I said scarcity was the basis of theft, but really, it’s the basis of all economics. When everyone can get anything they want without having to pay for it, what is the point of money? I am oversimplifying, of course. It’s not quite as simple as all that. But that gets the basic idea across. Anything you want. Just ask. You will start to see what we mean very soon, and of course, there will be plenty of people around later who can explain this all to you in more detail. Not to go all mystical on you, but you can’t really understand it till you experience it. It’s… quite a trip, let me tell you. ” Another big, broad, kindly smile.
“Well what do you get out of all this?” asked Jane. “You really expect us to believe that all you big powerful aliens go around fixing up planets out of the goodness of whatever you have instead of hearts?”
“Oh, no. I don’t expert you to believe that at all. It’s true, but I don’t expect you to believe it. ” He laughed again, and if anything, his laugh conveyed even more warmth and kindliness than before. He was like a kindly, wacky old uncle who just wanted us crazy kids to be okay. “Actually, that’s not exactly true. We all have a lot of the same motivations as you do. We want purpose, joy, pleasure, entertainment, accomplishment, love, the respect of our peers and of our society… all that stuff. And we pursue it all just as zealously as you do. We just don’t do it via material competition. Myself, for example, I joined up with the Boosters after a lot of loafing around and getting increasingly sick of my own company. Plus, my mother was bothering me to find something to do with my life, and suggested the Boosters, so I said, what the heck, sign me up. So I’m here because my mother talked me into it. Does that sound familiar to any of you?”
A few laughs from the audience. Ted and Jane still seemed skeptical, but even their expressions were beginning to soften. Dell, Jim, Claude and the rest were entirely charmed by Phattie.
All except Eddie, who was staring at the table, mind completely elsewhere. He had never been interrupted at the peak of his cycle before. He really didn’t know how he felt. All that energy was still in him, but without the usual route out, it had gone… somewhere else. He felt both full and empty at the same time. He felt like he had a lump in his throat, but it wasn’t really in his throat. He felt like his mind was painfully open, like a dilated pupil in direct sunshine. But it also felt kind of good, too. Eddie just didn’t know. His whole reality was changing shape around him, and this wasn’t the first time this had happened in his life, so he knew the best thing was to just stay quiet and try not to think too much and just let it happen.
Things would either make sense soon, or they wouldn’t, but either way, Eddie would find some way of dealing with it. He knew that for sure.
Something suddenly froze, painlessly and calmly, inside Eddie, and it made him stand up and look at Phat. Why did I do that? thought Eddie. Then it occurred to him. He had a question.
“I just have one question for you and all your alien buddies, Phattie…. ” began Eddie.
“Sure thing, kiddo. Ask me anything. ”
“Do you guys….. I mean, do you and your aliens pals… do you… ” Eddie paused, then took a long deep breath, and continued, “do you…. care? Really care? Do you…care… about us mud-eating savages down here?”
Phat looked at Eddie, and for a moment, it looked as if those big alien eyes were going to cry. “Oh Eddie… poor Eddie… life has crapped all over you, hasn’t it? Son of a bitch. The answer to your question is…. yes, Eddie. Yes we do. If we didn’t care, we wouldn’t do it. Nobody is making us do this, we don’t get paid, we don’t get extra stuff or a pat on the head from the King or anything. This work is not easy or pleasurable or fun. I spent a lot of time in training just to get into the Boosters on the lowest level. We join the Boosters because we want to help. I wanted to help others the way the Boosters had helped my people. The way they had helped me. It was my mother who suggested I join up, but once she did, I knew it was the right choice for me. The Boosters are revered all over the Conference specifically because we do what we do out of compassion alone. So yes, Eddie. We care. We care, or we wouldn’t even be here at all. And because we care, we will be here as long as it takes. ”
“What do you mean, as long as it takes?” asked Ted.
“Just what it sounds like, Ted. We Boosters have all the time and patience in the Universe. We don’t have a deadline, we don’t have a timetable, we are here for the long run. Whether it takes twenty years, a hundred, or a thousand, we will still be here, helping you, guiding you, teaching you what you want to learn, giving you what was given to us, and what we hope you, in turn, will give to others some day, when you are ready. We will force nothing on you. We will take nothing from you. We will just be here to help in any way we can, because we want for you what we have ourselves. Nothing more. ”
“You make it sound like you are the parents. ” said Jane bitterly, “and we are just children. ”
“There’s some truth to that, Jane. I can’t deny that. Just as when your modern aid organizations go to some remote and primitive place and try to bring the basics of your modern level of civilization to them, there is a tendency to, despite all you believe about cultural equality, to think of them as children who need guidance in getting to a better place. And I think that, as long as proper respect is paid, this is a good thing. It is the wellspring of our desire to help, and so we ask you to forgive us if we occasionally seem like a nagging parent instead of dutiful helpers. We do what we do out of love, like parents do. ” Phat stood up and closed his briefcase in one smooth motion. “And hey, if we get too patronizing, just tell us to back the hell off and we will listen. Well folks, my time here is almost up. Tonight, me and my compatriots are mostly just making contact with people, letting them see us, meet us, find out for themselves that we’re not looking to eat, enslave, or violate them. I have time for a few more quick questions. Who wants to go next?”
“Um… ” said Margaret hesitantly, “I am still not sure I believe any of this nonsense. But… but I have to ask you, Mister Alien…. why us? What brought you here, to this room, tonight?”
Phat smiled warmly at Margaret, and said “A very good question, Margaret, if you will accept the opinion of a figment of everyone’s imagination. I will answer that in two parts. The big part is, by around this time tomorrow, nearly every human being on Earth will have had some sort of visit from us. We estimate we can reach around eighty five percent of humanity with our various kinds of representative in that period. So in the picture, it’s not that you folks are all that special. I mean, you’re special, but you’re not THAT special. Get the big idea?”
Dell shook his head. “That’s not possible. There’s seven billion people on the planet Earth, you can’t possibly visit even one percent of us in that period of time, let alone eighty five percent. ”
“Really? ” replied Phat. “How many of us do you think there are, Dell?”
“Uh….. I don’t know. A couple of thousand?”
“Close. Try a few more powers of ten. My department alone has eight hundred thousand Beings in it. On our whole ship, the Dawnbringer… I don’t know the official number, but we have something like six million, last I heard. And we don’t spend a lot of time traveling from place to place, you understand? We get around pretty quick. And we don’t spend a lot of time in one place. Which, sadly, reminds me that I have to go. But first… I told you about the big part of why I am here tonight. Well, here’s the small part. Me, Hosephat, came here to you, the people of the Festival, tonight because I asked for the job. I have a warm spot in my hearts for believers like you people. You have known for a long time that you were not alone in the Universe, and people laughed at you for it and thought you were crazy for believing it. Well, I would say you have all been pretty thoroughly vindicated tonight, haven’t you? I am glad I was here to see it. Now I truly must go. I have a group of UFO cultists in Poland to both thrill and let down a little in a minute or so. You will see me again soon, I promise. ”
“Wait! ” said Dell. “how are you going to get all the away to Poland in two minutes?”
Phat laughed. “Teleporters, of course! Seeya later, you crazy kids!”
And just at that moment, Phat’s form was briefly saturated in a beam of light bright enough to cause all of them to shield their eyes with their hands, and then was gone, leaving nothing behind but a very faint ringing sound that dissipated rapidly.
For a long, pregnant moment, nobody said anything. They just looked at each other across the table, not sure yet whether they believed what just happened really happened. The clock’s tick seemed slow and heavy, each one loud as a pistol shot in the quiet of the room. Nobody seemed to have anything to say.
Then the ice jam broke and suddenly everyone was talking all at once. Did you see him? Was that really an alien? Did he mean all that stuff about love and caring? That was kind of nice but kind of weird, right? I liked him, though, didn’t you? He seems so nice, and so sincere! And holy crap, they have teleporters? Did you see that? He disappeared right in front of us!
Eddie listened with half an ear to the whirl of conversation around him. His own thoughts were equally confused, and it took all his mental energies just to cope with that. He was still letting reality sort itself out in his head, and that kept him quiet, for the most part. But there was one thing that emerged from the chaos like Excalibur from the Lake.
“He never explained about the Lights. ” Eddie said, to nobody in particular.
Sheila Mbeku did not even slow down when she spotted the group of heavily armed men on the path to the river in front of her. Nor did she pause one second when she noticed, in the center of the group, barking orders and waving his cigar around like he thought it was a magic wand, was “Chief” George Kembe, warlord, thug, megalomaniac, butcher, and strongman.
Instead, she and her group of five women plus assorted little children calmly strode right up to the group of men and, just as if they were all just happy good neighbours on a nice day out, said “Hello there George. Is this not a nice day for fetching the water from the river?”
George Kembe growled, “I am not here to fetch the water, woman! That is woman’s work!”
Sheila glanced at her entourage, then said “Why so it is! Then tell me, George, how I come to be meeting you on this lonely little path down to the river today?”
George practically snarled as he said “You know damned well why I am here, you horrible witch of a woman! You have been leading all the women in the area to abandon their husbands and owners, the men God intended to be their rulers and controllers, and instead they are all abandoning their homes and their children and walking off into the woods to follow your wicked ways! I demand that you release your hold over these women and let them return to their rightful place, witch!”
Just then, one of the little ones, sensing the tension in the air, began to cry, and Sheila automatically scooped her up and began comforting her. “There there, pet. Everything will be fine, you see. Well, George. Abandoning their children, you say? That is a serious accusation indeed. I can’t imagine leaving a child behind with only your men to look after it. But I am not the witch you think I am. If I was, it would be pretty foolish to risk angering me, wouldn’t it? Guns or no guns? ”
George looked like he wanted to grind his cigar out in Sheila’s face. “Do not even think to mock me, woman. I have had women flogged to death for far less! Don’t you think that just because you heard of this white man’s nonsense about creatures from outer space coming down, that means you can forget your place and your position! You are your husband’s property, and if you and your coven do not return to your husbands, I will declare you all loose women, and all men will be able to do as they please with you!”
“Why George, you never stopped any man from doing anything to us one time in your life. Why start now? And I do not have a husband, remember?” She gave George a look of such piercing intensity, looking right at him without flinching or blinking, that a few of his men paled and ran their hands over crude magical charms they wore around their necks. “You killed him. ”
George affected nonchalance. “Oh, that was your husband I killed? Are you sure? I have killed so many men for defying me, it is easy to lose track of the names. ”
A few of Sheila’s women hissed in scorn at the “Chief” and his words, but Sheila did not bat an eye. “Yes, you certainly do kill a lot of men. Women and children too. You really must be a terrible Chieftan if people have so little respect for you that they defy you so much. ”
George screamed in anger. “You muddy cunted donkey sucking dock slut! I should rip your throat out for that! Rip it out, and shit down the hole!”
Sheila fanned herself with her free hand. “George! Such terrible language, and in front of all these children! You never talked like that when I used to change your nappies and slap your fat brown bottom for stealing as a little boy. Is that what all this is about, Georgie Pie? Getting back at me for giving you a spanking for trying to show the other boys your penis?”
Laughter at that, some from George’s own men. George was far too angry to take notice. “You… I should rip you in half for that, evil woman!” he shrieked.
Again Sheila stared at him straight down the barrel. “Then do it, George Kembe. Grab me with your big strong man’s hands and tear me to pieces. Or if you are not man enough to do it yourself, order one of your trained monkeys with their big old guns to do it to me. I am just an old woman, after all. It should not take more than the ten of you to kill me. ”
For a moment, it looked as though George would fly to pieces right then and there from sheer frustrated rage alone. But then he caught a hold of himself, and calmed down. “Two weeks is not so long a time, old woman, and after that, the alien’s magic will be gone, and you and I will still be here. ”
Sheila’s smile grew even broader, till it shone like a cat’s. “You, perhaps, but not I, little Georgie, whose Mama had to buy him dark brown underwear till he was six years old. Six year, hah! You might be still here, little Georgie, but my women will not be. Did you really think this here was an ambush by you, us with all the jungle to walk through and you and your men too scared of the beasties to set foot on anything not paved?”
“You are a lying bitch!” snarled George. “Nobody walks through these jungles. Nobody who comes out alive. ”
“No man, perhaps. But we are women, and we are wise in the old ways as well as the new. We walk through the jungle like a white man walks through a parking lot, and not a one of us gets hurt. Ladies? Why don’t you show him the old ways. ”
Smiles on all of their faces, the women melted into the surrounding jungle like shadows disappearing at sunrise.
“There now, little Georgie. Now it’s just me, a little old woman with a stooped back and stiff fingers, against you and all your men. Do you feel safe yet? Or do you want to go get more men and more guns?”
George made a bad job of trying to pretend that remark was beneath his dignity to acknowledge. “Use your witch trickery all you want, you will have to come to town for food or water eventually, and then my men will get you, and you and all your slut friends will be cut open from filthy cunt to lying whore mouth. ”
“Like you know anything about a cunt, Georgie boy. You never liked them much at all, as I recall. When you saw little Janie’s playing doctor, you ran home crying. No matter, though. I would not count on us showing up in your man’s world any time soon, little George. You would be surprised how much there is to eat in the jungle, especially since our alien friends blessed us with their magic. ”
George gulped. “You… you have spoken to these demons?”
Sheila laughed. “Spoken with them? Georgie, they are our new brothers and sisters! We are one tribe with them now. They call us cousin and we call them father! I talked through the night with a very charming lady with skin like a crocodile, and she told us we were under their protection now, so even when the two weeks are over, we will still be safe. And to make sure that was true, she gave us all one of these. ”
Sheila reached into her blouse and rummaged amongst the many charms and bangles that hung from thick cords around her ancient, withered neck. This caused George and his men to draw back and point their trembling guns at her like she was about to turn into a snake. Prayers were muttered and charms were feverishly rubbed.
Sheila was quite sure that if it had not been for the aliens’ magic, she would be full of bullets now, and all because they thought her a witch. Such a fuss. Eventually, she located the one she was looking for, a bright sky blue charm shaped like a mother’s hand grasping a child’s hand. It pulsed faintly with an interior glow. She held it out for George and his men to see. They recoiled further and some shouted prayers for salvation.
“You see this? My lady crocodile friend gave it to me. It has the same magic as the magic that keeps you and your little boys with grown up toys from shooting me to death right now. Crocodile Lady gave us each one, and plenty more too, so we can give them to whoever chooses to join us. And she assured me that each one protects an area big enough that no gun could shoot far enough to harm us without the person shooting it being subject to the Pax. So your thugs and your guns are useless on us. I am sure you and some of your bullyboys will goad each other into entering the jungle to find us. And I hope the beasties eat you all and then throw you back up as the bad meat you surely are. But if you should happen to find us, Georgie boy, who hid under my skirt every time a big truck went by until he was ten year old, if you find us, Georgie, tell me this : are you willing to face us without your guns or your knives or your poor little motherless boys ready to do what you say for a pat on the head and a bone from the fire? Are you willing to face me, like to like, face to face, as equals, as we are doing now? Knowing that all you have is that big thick head of yours full of dung and mulch with which to defend yourself? I know all your secrets, Georgie boy, and next time I will not hold back the worst ones, as I did today. Do you really want to pit your tiny wits against someone who has survived far worse than you, many times over? I will leave you now to think it over in what you call your mind. Look for us or don’t, I do not care. I am done forever with your world. If you want to get to me, you will have to enter mine. Goodbye, little Georgie. ”
And with that, she too faded into the jungle where strong men feared to tread.
The Rascals were not the biggest, strongest, or richest gang in the Old City, but they weren’t the smallest, weakest, or poorest either, and what they lacked in power they made up for in range and political skill. They had three clubhouses and visiting rights at a half dozen more. They could do business out of an area three times what a gang their size normally could, and that made them not just prosperous but very useful to a lot of bigger dogs who needed a way to do business with each other without being seen doing business with one another. It was a life of constant hustle and negotiation, and a lot of the time they ran the knife’s edge between two very dangerous contenders, but the money was very, very good, and that’s all Jerry Luck cared about.
Jerry had founded the Rascals back in The Day, and it was his baby all the way. It was the number one gang to be in if you were more about the cash and the flash than macho pissing contests and proving what a bad motherfucker you were. Everyone in the gang shared in Jerry Luck’s philosophy : “Nobody can stop the wind. ” Move fast, deal fast, don’t get tied down in conflicting loyalties, make sure people know you are everyone’s friend and nobody’s fool, and you can live the sweet life and never give your own shadow time to catch up with you. Fuck up, and you are last week’s news and nobody will even slow down for your funeral. Fuck you. You were too slow.
This gave Jerry Luck a mystique and a prestige amongst the hustlers, gamblers, number takers, and others of his particular set, and to Jerry, that was the sweetest part of it all. Sweet, fine ladies draped themselves across his path wherever he went. Rich, powerful men had him as the first number on their expensive cell phones, and would not make a move without asking him for intel and advice. If he went down, half the networks in the Old City would go with him. Only he knew all the names, dates, phone numbers, alliances, connections, and deals, and that was all the job security Jerry Luck had ever needed.
He made a lot of money, he wore the latest fashions to the hottest clubs, he went everyone in a sweet snub nosed limo with a smoking hot Latina as his driver, and he did it all without hurting anybody. As far as he was concerned, life was as sweet as it could be.
Or at had been, until some amateur fucks calling themselves Red Smoke started stirring up shit. Led by some no-name gutter rat that called itself Red Master (like, what kind of lame assed cheesey kung fu ninja shit was that), and these jokers were trying to copy his methods and take over his specialty, and Jerry Luck was seriously pissed off about it.
It wasn’t so much that they were nibbling at his business. Jerry Luck had not gotten where he was by falling for that territorial bullshit. There were always new deals, new angles, new layers, new ways to do business. fighting over table scraps had never been Jerry Luck’s style.
But they were doing such a piss poor job of it, they were beginning to jiggle the table for all the players, and that was something Jerry Luck could not tolerate. He didn’t begrudge anyone their ambition, but making it hard for everyone else to do business in the process was just plain bad manners, and Jerry Luck hated bad manners. You might screw someone over like a prison bitch on a deal, but you said please, thank you, and have a nice day when you did it. Those were Jerry Luck’s rules, and woe betide any Rascal caught violating them.
Now, after nearly thee months of slick negotiation and tradnig in more favours than Jerry Luck wanted to remember, finally, he had landed a meeting with this Red Master jackass, gang leader to gang leader, and one way or another, this shit was going to get settled tonight.
Hopefully, this Red Smoke fuck would be smart and greedy enough to take a buy out option. Nice stacks of cash for him and his buddies, and they came to work for Jerry Luck. No hard feelings.
If not, well, Jerry had a lot of friends who liked him more than enough to take care of problems for him. No violence, but it’s hard to keep your gang going when everybody suddenly stops doing business with you.
As the limo pulled up, Jerry Luck got his first look at Red Smoke’s base of operations. As he fully expected, it was one of those cheap “bubble tea houses” that was really more about the big loud bemani games and photo sticker booths in front than the bubble tea and Asian candy they sold in the back. Jerry Luck strode past the thuglets playing Dance Dance Revolution and the bored and vaguely frightened looking Asian twentysomething behind the counter, past the illegal Pachinko machines and equally bored and frightened looking “hostess”, and up the stairs to his encounter with Red Smoke.
Jerry Luck’s intel said the office was in the back, and as his intel was never wrong, Jerry Luck went with it. But just as he was about to knock on the door with the faded vintage Wonder Boy poster on it, some Level 2 thuglet grabbed Jerry and hauled him into the office by his jacket lapels.
Before he had time to think, Jerry Luck found himself surrounded by various thuglets brandishing cheap knockoff automatic weapons at him and, at the center of it all, some greaseball in his graduation suit sitting behind a desk littered with Sobe bottles and PSPs and letting a plastic champagne glass of what was clearly raspberry bubble tea dangle from two fingers.
For a moment and a half, Jerry Luck was actually a little worried. Then he remembered what day of the week it was in terms of recent world events, and it was all he could do not to bust out laughing right then and there.
Instead, he decided to play along a bit. He squared his shoulders, smoothed his jacket, and calmly faced the greaseball in charge, then said, in a dry, businesslike tone, “I assume you are… Red Master?”
Red Master nodded, and said “It appears we have some business to discuss, Mister Lucky. ”
It’s Jerry Luck, or just Jerry, you pissant, thought Jerry Luck. “Do we really need the audience, Red Master?”
Red Master did a poor impression of a villain’s light, breezy laugh. “Oh, let’s just say I prefer to make sure negotiations go my way, Mister Lucky. Now, about our mutual dealings?”
Alright, enough of this bullshit. Time to get real. “I would hardly call it mutual business, Red Master. In fact, I mostly came here to see just what kind of stumbling fools had dropped from their mother’s snatch right onto a pile of shit in my back yard. ”
A nice, long, frosty pause. Red Master clearly had not imagining this kind of response. It took him a few times trying to start a sentence before he managed to say “I beg your pardon?”
“Look, Red Herring… you have been trying to copy my style without having the slightest idea what the dribbling fuck you are doing. Normally, I would ignore you and your bunch of kindergarten dropouts like I ignore the bugs that hit the windshield of my limo. But you have made the deadly mistake of becoming irritating enough to be worth paying attention to, and so I thought I would do you the favour of coming down and having a little chat with you before someone who is not a sweetie like me comes around to make you yesterday’s news. ”
Red Master was white with rage and in danger of dropping his bubble tea from his trembling fingers. “How dare you… right here in my lair… you son of a… ”
“Your ‘lair’? You have clearly been watching too many movies, kids. You do know those are not documentaries about how to be real live gangsters, right? They are what is known as fiction. You know, all made up and pretend? Yeah, just nod your heads like there’s brains in them. Look, I appreciate your position. I started off with just me, two friends with college, and a shitty office over a pizza place. And I admire your boldness in trying to move up in the world by skipping steps. But you are not going to get anywhere by stepping on the toes of people like me, and if you know what’s good for you, you will listen to me and do as I say, and then you might just live to finish puberty, okay?”
Red Master looked like he wanted to puke. “WASTE THIS FOOL!” he croaked.
After a bunch of his thuglets looked at him as if to say “Really? We’re actually going to use these things?”, they all turned their weapons on Jerry Luck with clear intent to kill, and… just froze there, looking angry and constipated at the same time.
Once more, Jerry Luck fought down the urge to laugh like a lunatic. “Seriously? You were seriously going to respond to me puncturing your egos by trying to ‘waste’ me? Man, don’t you crotch droppings even watch the fucking news? It’s still Pax time till next Monday, losers. And who knows, maybe after that too, if the government signs on to the Pax Treaty. So put those things down before you end up filling your diapers. ”
After an embarrassingly long time, and two puffs from his asthma inhaler, Red Master managed to order his “men” to relax, and said “That… that shit’s for real?”
“Yeah it’s for fucking real! Aliens on talk shows, peace beams, food for Africa falling from the sky, magic boxes that turn garbage into silk, whole cities being powered by little blue boxes… didn’t you get your door-knock visit last week? I had a funky alien that looked like a purple Wookie show up at my main branch and tell me all kinds of crazy shit was going down. What the fuck were you guys doing at the time? Looking for your dicks?”
Red Master cleared his throat. “Uh, we got a visit but…. we were all pretty stoned at the time. So when we had a conversation with an alien right out of Star Trek, we figured it must be like, a group hallucination. ”
“Bad move. Those don’t exist. ”
“What, aliens? But you said… ”
“No, group hallucinations. They are a myth. They don’t exist. Didn’t you even notice that Old City has been suspiciously quiet lately? No shootings, no cop cars rushing around, no nothing? Jesus, that first night after Alien TV came on, I thought everyone had freaking died. Like there had been a gas leak or something. That’s how quiet it has been around here. ”
“Uh, well… we are not really from around here, per se… ”
This time Jerry Luck did laugh. What the hell. What’s the worst that could happen. “Oh my god. Let me guess… you are actually a bunch of suburban kids who love bubble tea and bemani and thought “Hey, let’s pool our graduation money and get out own place where we can hang out and drink bubble tea and eat Pocky and play DDR all day! What could be better?”, right? ”
“Beatmania’s better.” said a random thuglet, only to be immediately and vigorously shushed.
“Right, whatever. Let’s see… so you pooled all your money and went looking for a place to lease, and realized that the only place you could afford was a shit shack like this one in scary old Old City, right? But this was your big dreamy dream, so you’re not going to let that slow you down. So you rent out this place, and everything is peachy keen cool until it dawns on one of you masterminds that a business has to actually make money in order to stay alive, and you and your bros smoking weed and playing DDR all day was not exactly bringing in the cash. So you thought, hey, why not be mad hardcore gangstas just like in the movies, right? You know, as opposed to actually learning how to run a business competently. And so you ask around, and get sent to some lucky agent who clips you hard on those piece of shit weapons you are holding… never fire those, by the way, they are as likely to jam and/or blow up in your hands as fire an actual bullet anywhere… you’d have been better off with water pistols, those at least work… how am I doing so far, by the way?”
Sullen stares were all the confirmation Jerry Luck needed. “Pretty good then, I would say. So where was I… right, you guys spend your last dime on piece of shit weapons, and figure you are ready for the ‘thug life’ now, and then you realize…. you have no idea what the fuck you are doing or how to get started. So there you are with your fingers in your sphincters when you finally get word that I want to meet you, and you think…. this is truly hilarious… you will shake me…. me, of all people… you will shake me down for what… cash? drugs? Oh wait, I got it. You wanted to get ‘a piece of the action’, right? Hilarious. ”
Red Master had regained some of his composure by now. “I don’t see what’s so funny about it. ”
“I know, that’s part of what makes it so funny. And then I come in and throw some shit around, and you decide the best idea would be to kill me right here in your home base, where the cops immediately would immediately know exactly who did it, and where incidentally if the aliens hadn’t stopped you, you would have ended up shooting each other just as much as me… Google “firing lanes”, kids, it could save you life… and then what would you have had? No money, a corpse to dispose of, and all my friends looking for you because you just cost them a hell of a lot of money and trouble, plus, you know, they like me. So it would have been a toss up between them killing you slowly or a hell of a lot of ass rape in prison. Great plan there, sensei!”
If dirty look were bullets, Red Master would have been as dead as they had wanted Jerry Luck to be. For his part, Red Master looked like he would have loved to have turned into a puddle of shame and seeped out through a crack in the floor.
That touched Jerry Luck’s fast, cold heart. “Okay, okay, I am done busting your guy’s balls. You didn’t know what you were doing and you were trying to make the best out of a lot of bad decisions. You ain’t the first bunch of jackoffs to mistake stupidity for boldness and recklessness for courage. But let me lay down some deep wisdom for you kids. Courage is for people too stupid to figure out the odds. Boldness is great, but without intelligence to back it up, it’s just plain dangerous. True boldness is seeing the opportunity nobody else does and going for it hard and fast. If you really do your homework, you can even find opportunities that are not even much of a risk, just fresh and without competition. That is like finding keys to the golden kingdom, boys. Open the door and the money and women just come at you like heat on a hot day. ”
Jerry Luck got up, and said “But none of that matters today, because you boys are going back to the happy safe sunshine of suburbia. You guys leased this place, the machines, and the bubble tea crap, right?”
Everyone looked to Red Master, who nodded.
“Great, that makes this easy. Being the amazing guy, I will buy out the lease on this place for you, and you can all go back to your lives and your parents and, seriously, go to fucking college already, and some day you will look back on this all as a youthful misadventure that, very thankfully, you walked away unscathed. ”
Chastened nods all around.
“This is the part where you all say ‘Thank you, Jerry’!” instructed Jerry Luck.
A few of them laughed, and there was a chorus of mumbles.
Jerry cocked an ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear that. Once more, with feeling!”
They all laughed, and this time, the cry of “Thank you, Jerry!” was loud and clear.
“Good, good. Oh wait, one last thing…. where have you guys been getting the stuff to make bubble tea?”
Once more, all eyes turned to Red Master. He glared around defensively and said “…Safeway. ”
This time, everyone laughed, even Red Master, eventually.
Jerry rubbed his forehead and said “Good lord, I got here just in time. OK, that makes life easier, I won’t have to find your suppliers and pay THEM off. OK, so, Uncle Jerry is here to save the day, and all you nice boys have to do is promise to stay the hell out of the Old City and not get into any more trouble. That good for you guys?”
Jerry cocked an ear again expectantly. A few seconds later, everyone remembered what they were supposed to do, and said “Yes, Uncle Jerry. ”
“OK, good. You guys go home, your parents are probably wondering about you. Uncle Jerry will take care of the rest. Oh, one more thing… that guy downstairs, he one of you?”
Headshakes all around. Red Master volunteered “We hired him. but uh… he hasn’t been paid yet. ”
“Why am I not surprised? Never mind, I can take care of him, too. You guys go off home. Red Master here… what’s your real name, kid?”
“Claude Chang. ” confessed Chris Chang.
“Right… the rest of you, go home. Chris here can go once he signs a couple papers for me. I’ll get my lawyer over here pronto. At least it better be pronto, for what I pay him in retainer. Won’t be more than an hour. If we get this shit wrapped up right, boys, it won’t even affect your credit rating. Now go home, tell everyone you were on vacation, and forget this ever happened, OK?”
“Yes, Uncle Jerry!” they replied without prompting, and in a flurry of kitbags and jackets, they were gone.
Jerry shouted after them “And for fuck’s sake, leave those piece of crap guns here!”
A clatter of low grade steel on the desk, and then they were gone again.
Phew, thought Jerry. The last thing those kids needed was for some suburban mom to find a cheap automatic in their pants pocket and freak the hell out.
Let’s see. Call the lawyer, get the legal shit sorted out, make the money shit happen, get all this wrapped up. If he hustled…. and Jerry Luck always hustled… he could get it all wrapped up and nailed down and still make his reservation at the Tropico Steakhouse in time to get the center table. He had considered, for a moment, inviting the Red Smoke boys to a night out on the town. But that was taking things too far. He wanted to get the kids out of trouble, not fucking adopt them.
All of a sudden, Jerry realized he felt great. Hey, maybe there was something to this milk of human kindness shit after all. He thought about his own gang, and if he should offer them…. nah, they would never believe it. But what the hell, the clubhouses could use a good cleaning and some upgrades. It wouldn’t even be that expensive, and he could just tell them he was tired of meeting them in shitty places.
And besides, what’s money for, if not to make you happy?
Feeling better than he had in ages, Jerry Luck called his lawyer, then looked across the desk at a sullen and listless looking Shris Chang, and smiled like a Chesire cat.
“Hey kid!” said Jerry Luck as he took his second favorite deck of cards out of a jacket pocket, “Want to learn how to play poker?”
Jim Ducette woke from his daze with a start as his cell phone began noisily vibrating against his hip. “Silent” vibrate mode my ass, he thought angrily, not for the first time, as he looked around the meeting room at the people glaring at him for this interruption and tried to mumble apologies while he fished the damned buzzing thing out of his pocket and flipped it open to press the “put call to voicemail” button.
But before he could do that, he noticed the incoming number and who it was who was calling, and smiled. He stoodf up and said “Sorry people, I just have to take this. ” and excused himself from the meeting.
“Hey there, Dell! What’s up?” said Jim into his cell phone.
“Hey to you too, Jim my man! How did you know it was me, we have caller ID blocked on this phone!” said the voice on the other end.
“True, but you are kind of the only person I know who lives in the 480 area code. ”
“Oh, you’re so smart! No wonder you’re our glorious leader.” Then he paused.
Uh oh, thought Jim. Time to go fishing. “So, Dell, what brings you to call me today?”
“Oh hey, I’m not interrupting anything important at work, am I? I always forget which way the time zone difference goes. It’s what, four there now?”
“Nah, nothing important, just a boring meeting I didn’t even really need to be there for anyhow. One of those “just in case we need a technical consult’ bullshit meetings. I’m glad to be out of it. ”
“Right, right. Makes you appreciate why management makes the big bucks, doesn’t it? It’s to endure the boredom. ”
Jim laughed. “Right, right… ” God, it felt good to be talking to Dell, Jim thought. Well, here we go again. “So, the reason you called, Dell?”
Silence on the other end of the line. Jim could hear the lobby’s fishtank bubbling. Then : “It’s Jane, Jim. She… she’s gone. ”
Jim’s heart leapt then sank into his stomach. “Oh God no… you don’t mean she’s… ”
“She’s gone, Jim. I mean…. she left. She left me. Took Dylan and Tress with her, too, and the SUV. With Tyler off at college, that just leaves me and Lisa here in this big… fucking… house. I just don’t know what to without her, Jim. And you were the only person I could think of to call. ”
“Holy crap, man…. that’s terrible. She just left you without a word? When was this?”
“No, she left me a note… of sorts. And it was this morning. I’ve just been…. sitting here, trying to figure out what to do ever since I found the note. But I can’t seem to think straight right now. ”
“Of course not, man. Who could? And what do you mean, ‘a note of sorts’?”
“Well, it’s a note, but a lot of it doesn’t make a lot of sense. There are a lot of things about ‘enemy energies’ and ‘cosmic criminals’ and some things about the alien healing centers being ‘foci’ but it’s all so incoherent that I can’t even tell if she wants to help the aliens or kill them. ”
“Jesus Christ, Dell. ”
“I.. I don’t even know who she is any more, Jim. It started the night we met with the aliens… met in the very room I’m sitting in right now, in fact. I guess I thought she would get over it or something, but it just got worse and worse over time. She’s obsessed with the aliens, Jim. She started off just watching the news all the time, then it was watching the news while reading everything she could about them on the Internet on her laptop, then… then she started drawing diagrams. Beautiful diagrams… did I ever tell you she minored in fine arts in college? she did… beautiful diagrams, in colors so vivid it seemed like they hovered in the air… but they didn’t make any sense, Jim. I tried so hard to understand what she was trying to explain to me… but they just didn’t make any damned sense. I guess I should have known then. ”
“Nobody wants to think there is something seriously wrong with the one they love, Dell. ”
“I guess not. Looking back, I can see all the signs. She got increasingly unstable, one minute obsessing over some minute detail in her research, convinced it was the ‘proof’ that the aliens were trying to enslave or kill us all, another minute crying her eyes out and crying ‘they are going to get us, get us, get us’ over and over again till I could hear it in my sleep, another minute happy and laughing because she was now convinced the aliens really were here to help us and everything was going to be so wonderful in the future… and then it would start all over again. But I just told myself it was something she had to work out on her own and the best thing I could do was be supportive of her until she got through it on her own. I was fooling myself. ”
“I doubt there was anything you could have done anyhow, Dell. This kind of thing… ” Jim trailed off. What could he possibly say? If only he had know this was going, maybe he could have…. but no. If Dell couldn’t do anything from right there, what could he do from Nova Scotia?
“As hard as this has been on me, though, it’s been far worse on the kids. In our household, Jane was always the solid and dependable one who made sure everything that needed doing got done. She was the one who made the whole thing work. She did far more of the actual work around here than I ever did. I can see that so clearly now that she’s gone. Why is it we can’t see what’s important till it’s gone, Jim?”
“I don’t know, Dell. ” Actually, Jim had theories. But this was not the time.
“I tried to help out, pick up the slack in the housework, explain to the kids that Mommy was not feeling well. But everything I did, she undid. If I cleaned the kitchen, she would scream at me because I had done it wrong, and clean everything all over again. Then an hour later, she would be in my face, screaming at me for never doing anything around the house. And the kids…. she would swoop in on them when they were trying to relax after school and drill them about everything they knew and thought about the aliens. That could last hours, the kids terrified and crying, until she was satisfied with all their answers. Then a few days later, she would do it all again, only her idea of the right answers had all changed since the last time and the kids had to learn them all over again. Then she started following them to school and quizzing their teachers….. she’s not allowed to go within 500 feet of Tess’ school any more. ”
Jim sat down, and closed his eyes. Holy fuck. “That’s… that’s just terrible, Dell. ”
“I know. Believe me, I know. At least, I know now. But at the time… I don’t know. Maybe sometimes you are too busy dealing with the chaos to think about its cause. And lately…. she seemed like she was getting better. I swear, Jim, I thought she was getting better. She still talked the same kind of nonsense, but she was so much quieter, so much calmer. She did the housework, she got her job back, she was cheerful and calm and seemed to have finally decided the aliens really were on our side. And then… this. A note, and she’s gone, with the two youngest with her. Going God knows where, doing God knows what. I just don’t know what to do, Jim. ”
“Have you called the police yet?”
“What for? She hasn’t done anything illegal yet. She’s their mother, she has every right to take them on a trip if she wants to. She even picked a long weekend to do it. They won’t even be missing school until Tuesday, and they could be anywhere by then. They have the SUV, the credit cards, all our camping gear. With all that, they don’t even have to stop in at motels. You know how hard it is to find a Park Ranger who doesn’t want to be found and has all the best gear in the world with them? Pretty fucking hard. ”
Jim had never felt so helpless in his life. “I wish I knew what to say, Dell. I find it hard to imagine Jane like that… the last time I saw her… ” When had been the last time he had seen her? He couldn’t remember. Had she seemed normal then? He supposed she did, but honestly, he couldn’t remember that, either.
“That’s okay, Jim. It feels good just to have someone to tell all this to, someone who knows us and so can understand what I am talking about. I wasn’t calling up looking for solutions, really. I just really needed somebody to talk to. I just… I just hope she doesn’t do something to hurt the kids, that’s all. ”
Fuck, thought Jim. Fuck fuck FUCK. Think, you idiot. You’re the leader, you’re the smart guy, you are the one that fixes things when they break down. Fix this! Despair. Then, a light : “Say Dell, is there one of those alien healing centers near you? Maybe she headed there. ”
“Yeah, there’s one just ten miles from here, next to the Chesterton Town Center mall. You know, you just might be right. It’s at least worth a check. When she left with the kids and all that gear, I just assumed she was going on a long trip. But maybe not, maybe she just headed for the Center to camp out next to it. It makes sense! That is even the one Eddie works at now. ”
“No, really? Eddie is working for the aliens? ”
“You got it. He is still looking for the answer to what happened with the Lights. He’s convinced the aliens must know more than they are letting on, or at least, that they could find out if they wanted to. So in return for helping at the front desk, they let him use their libraries and research tools. ”
The Lights? It took Jim a few moments to remember what those were, and then a lot more moments to get over the shock once he did. Had it really been so long since he thought about the Phoenix Lights that he couldn’t even remember what they were right away? Somehow, having actual aliens show up and start wandering around fixing things and helping people kind of made the Lights seem trivial. And that’s a thought he never thought he would be thinking. The Lights had been his life for years. And now? Who cared, really?
He suddenly realized he hasn’t said anything in a while. “So, how’s Eddie doing? ”
Dell sighed. “It doesn’t look good, Jim, for what it’s worth. They don’t seem to know any more about the Lights than we do. They have assured us that the Phoenix Lights had nothing to do with them, and they can’t think of why any other alien race would put on that kind of display. They are as stumped as we are. Eddie doesn’t believe them, but I have no reason to doubt them. Can you believe it, Jim? Real aliens from space are here, all kinds of them, and they don’t know any more than we do. Doesn’t that just figure?”
“Yeah, I guess it does. I’ll have to tell Claude and Margaret when they come down from out west next summer. ”
“Oh, they still doing that? It’s a long trip for people their age. ”
“Yeah, they still do it. I don’t think anything short of Judgement Day could stop them. They can’t seem to get enough of the beach and the ocean. I guess when you live around something all your life, you take it for granted. But to them, it’s like a whole different world and they love it. And I love watching them love it. ”
“That sounds great, Jim. Maybe one of these years Jane and I will take the kids, and…. right. I guess I better go try to find her. Thanks so much for you help, Jim. I can always count on you. You always know what to do. ”
Just barely, this time, thought Jim wryly. “It’s been great hearing from you, Dell. I am sure you will get everything sorted soon enough. Maybe Jane will find the answers she is looking for at the Healing Center. Or maybe they can fix whatever is wrong with her. Speaking of fixing people, have you heard from Ted lately?”
Dell laughed and said “Not since the last time we talked, no. As far as I know, he is still whooping it up with his wife in their newly healthy bodies and embarrassing their kids with their antics. Think about it, Jim. We might be the first humans to live forever, if what the aliens say is true. ”
“I know. It’s incredible to think about. I guess it all depends on how that UN thing goes today. ”
“Oh right. I have been so worried and freaked out about Jane that I didn’t even remember that was today. Well, however it goes, I will be out looking for my wife and kids. Again, thanks so much for you help, Jim. I will be sure to keep in touch to tell you how things are going. ”
“You’d better. Good luck, Dell. When you find Jane and the kids, and you will, give them my love. ”
“Will do. Talk to you soon, Jim. ”
“You too, Dell. Bye bye. ”
“Bye bye, Jim!”
And just like that, the phone call was over.
Jim checked the time. Had he really been out of the meeting that long? It hadn’t seemed that long. Well, time flies when you’re having fun, thought Jim. Not that finding out about Jane’s problems was fun, exactly. But damn near anything was fun compared to one of these middle management dronefests.
Jim looked at the door to the meeting room, then looked at the time again, then looked at the highly enticing vending machines in an alcove of the lobby.
Technically, nobody in that meeting actually knew that his phone call was over. He probably would have at least ten or fifteen minutes to himself before any of the drones in there even noticed he was gone. And he was sure if they really, really needed him (fat chance), they would come find him.
And there was a Jos. Louis and a bag of Ring-o-los in that vending machine that were calling his name. Jim, they seemed to say. Meetings are boring. We’re fun. Come eat us. Nobody will know!
Yup, thought Jim. Sounds like it’s time for a little “me time”. Those snacks and a bottle of Lime Rickey will go a long way to making the day go just a little faster. And his bosses (and most especially, his wife, who would throw a fit if she knew what he was about to eat) need never know.
And it would give him the time (and calories) to seriously think about all the crazy things happening in the world. Aliens showing up at the UN, Jane going crazy, Eddie working for the aliens, people talking about living forever, pollution and excess carbon raining out of every cloud as harmless organic fluff, crazy looking aliens walking the streets in every town and city in the world… he had been so preoccupied with work lately that he had not given these amazing things a single thought.
Partly that was because it was all just too big. The future was going to be so different from the past that it was impossible for one mind to encompass it all. Maybe the young people today, the ones Eddie and Tyler’s age, would have an easier time taking it all in. They were young, their minds were flexible, they had not gotten used to things being a certain way yet. All Jim could manage was to try to imagine the small things first. Better health care… MUCH better health care. Cures for everything, or near enough. That he could understand. A lot of things that were seriously bad to have when he was a kid could be cured now, aliens or no aliens. So in that sense, this was just more of the same.
Food falling from the sky in Africa and other famine stricken areas. Bravo ten times over for that. Let the warlord try to stop that! Jim felt sort of guilty about how the world had been unable to solve that same problem until the aliens came along and solved it for them. But he was glad it was fixed, regardless.
Then there was the whole Pax issue. Those two weeks had been amazingly calming, once the initial confusion and panic wore off. Just the fact that everybody knew they were absolutely safe on the physical level had an extraordinary psychological effect on the population at large. Some people became extremely calm, and walked around like they were holy people free of earthly concerns. Others went the other way, and became manic with joy, running around shouting and laughing and saying everything on their minds. But for most people, the main effect was one of enormous relaxation. True, the threat of physical violence was hardly a serious factor in the life of most modern humans. But there is a vast difference between what our instincts tell us is true, and what we know to be true, and between what we know is unlikely, and what we know to be impossible.
As a result, Pax support was overwhelming in the modern world. Some polls had it at 95 percent in some nations, an unheard of mandate in a modern democratic and often polarized world. There were always some holdouts, extreme libertarians, hardcore paranoids, the newly formed xenophobic paramilitaries, and so on.
Jim was almost positive the Canadian government would sign onto the Pax treaty, and vote yes on Global Pax today in the UN. Canadian government might not be perfect, but it was highly responsive to the will of the Canadian people once sufficient momentum built behind a movement.
So Pax was probably going to happen. That meant a future without violence. No rape, no assault, no schoolyard brawling, no violent crime, no riots, no war. Jim had no idea what the long term effects of suppressing humanity’s penchant for violence might be, but he was more than willing to find out.
What else… well shit, the aliens could frigging teleport, thought Jim. He had seen it happen twice now. Aliens appearing out of nowhere, as casual as you could please. The aliens were promising that they would give humans the technology to do so “as soon as you are ready for it”. Sort of a prize for completing the preliminary steps of becoming civilized by their standards. Imagine, travel between any two points in the world via a process as simple as making a phone call from a phone booth. That is what the aliens had promised. If we thought the world was small before because of the airplane and the Internet… teleportation would make all that look like just triremes and horse drawn wagons.
And then there was the really big one… the stars. If humanity minded its P’s and Q’s and actually became members of this Conference of Beings thing, they would be joining a civilization far larger than anything they had known or even imagined before.
Jim tried to think of historical parallels and couldn’t. Maybe Marco Polo encountering the vastness of the Orient had at least the flavour of it. To all at once realize that there are entire nations, with their own histories, cultures, desires, and forms, that you knew absolutely nothing about…. that must have been quite the mind blowing experience back then.
But this was the same thing on a much more massive scale. The Conference had dozens of entire species in it, many of whom had dozens of planets, each planet having its own culture and attitudes. A planet to them was like a city to us tiny, backwards, quaint little humans. If that. Humanity itself would be entering a cultural arena of such scope as to make the Holy Roman Empire look like a childhood backyard alliance. Humans would be free to travel all around the Galaxy, visiting alien cultures, trying alien cuisines (the ones they could digest, anyhow), learning so much more about the Universe and its diversity than before. From a xenophilic traveler’s point of view, it was Paradise.
But humanity would not merely be playing tourist. It would be part of the Conference, with rights equal to any other race with a similar population. Humans could join space crews on exploration missions, help colonize newly discovered habitable planets, even become Boosters themselves some day. The possibilities were staggering.
And once they had proven themselves good citizens of the Conference, they would be given planets of their own to populate, and then humanity would truly transcend its Earthly origins and become far, far more than it had ever been before. As once life left the ocean to populate the shore, and primates once left the trees to populate the plains, humanity would leave Earth and populate the stars.
The very prospect of it made Jim shiver with anticipation, and he only hoped he would live long enough to see all these things come true.
And of course, because of their good friends the aliens, he probably would.
When trying to take it all in like this, Jim could easily empathize with people like Jane, for whom it was all just plain too much. He was not the slightest bit surprised at the hundreds of religions that had suddenly sprung up all over the world which focused on the aliens as objects of worship.
He felt that way himself, sometimes, and he was a supposedly logical, rational, atheistic computer geek. Other religions, especially long established traditional ones, responded by trying to cast the aliens as devils from hell, sent by Satan himself.
Jim felt like that sometimes too.
But it was very hard to demonize aliens who spoke to you in your own language, stayed for dinner, chatted about the weather, and incidentally also fed the masses, made the lame walk and the blind see, and made it actually impossible to commit certain sins.
The unwashed masses might not know much, but they knew divinity when they saw it, and while the aliens did not want to be thought of as gods, and certainly never asked to be thought of as gods, when you take a human being from being a disease-ridden malnourished illiterate wretch living in poverty and filth and turn them into a healthy, well fed, educated modern human being living in clean, safe public housing, and you do not ask for a single dime, dinar, or rial for it, well, there is only one place such extraordinary gratitude could go.
And unlike a lot of other gods we could mention, thought Jim, these ones delivered, and they didn’t pass the plate at church.
Jim looked at his watch, and winced as a stab of professional guilt… or possibly just acid reflux from the junk food… stabbed him where it hurt. Time to go back into the meeting, he told himself. There was only twenty minutes left of it anyhow. Even these people couldn’t make twenty minutes seem like more than, oh, two hours tops. Could they? He hoped not.
Jim got up, threw wrapper and bag into the trash, stuck the bottle into the recycling rack, took a few long deep breaths, then headed back into his meeting.
Eddie never once flinched, not when the small plane dropped him off at Gibraltar with a bunch of other guests, not when he stepped out of the grey limo and all the flashbulbs nearly made him blind, not while going through the frankly staggering amount of security (and under Pax, somewhat redundant) required to get into the UN meeting, not when he saw the meeting chamber filled to capacity with every single UN ambassador current in existence (and a number of world leaders rather awkwardly pressed into service as “assistants” so that they too could be in attendance), not when they escorted him right to the center of them all and gave him a seat at the table where the alien ambassadors would sit and upon which what seemed like every television camera and microphone in the world was focused, not even when the aliens teleported in en masse and already seated.
Nothing could surprise him any more. He was not the same person who had met the aliens on that March night so many lifetimes ago. He had changed a lot since then, in more ways than one.
For one thing, he was cured. Or so they thought. He had gone to one of their healing centers, at first just to ask them questions and try to find his mother, but after he had hung out there for long enough for his problems to surface, he had felt it was good politics to let them do what they could to help him. He had known that no matter what they did to him, it would not change who he was or what he had to do.
And it had worked. He didn’t hear the burning drums any more. He didn’t feel like he was strapped to the front of a freight train running out of control any more either. In their place was just smooth, airy silence that gave him a cool, solid self-control that he had never known in his life before that. He never found himself doing things without knowing why any more. He never had to try to explain to others what he didn’t understand himself any more. He never had to lie any more.
Life now seemed almost absurdly easy to Eddie. He had spent so long riding a fiery tornado of emotions inside that this new, calmer life seemed as simple and as easy as walking across the street. Think about what you wanna do, then decide to do it, and do it. Easy. His life was so much better now, and he had the aliens to thank for that. And he did thank them.
That did not change what he was here to do, though.
He had them all fooled. The aliens, the important people, the press people, the Internet people… they all thought that because the aliens had fixed his mind that they controlled him now. They thought they had changed his mind when they fixed it.
They all thought wrong.
Not that he could blame them. In his own estimation, he had played them perfectly. Ever since he had realized that the aliens were keeping things from him, he had been working hard every waking moment to convince them that he was their best friend on Earth, literally. He called his new persona “the perfect human” and that is exactly what he tried to be. Years of pretending to be whatever a particular foster family wanted to him had given him acting skills par exellence. It didn’t matter who you really were. Nobody cared who you really were. What mattered is who you could convince people you were. If you did it well, you made them happy and they left you alone. That was reward enough for Eddie.
So he put on his best show ever. He carefully observed other humans at the Healing Center to figure out what worked and what didn’t with the aliens. It didn’t take long to figure out that what the aliens liked was bright, curious people who were eager to learn and open to new ideas and new ways of living. Eddie could have laughed. He had mastered the “perfect student” role in the second grade. This was the exact same except there was no marks or grades to worry about. No frigging problem.
And time had only refined his performance. He rapidly went from eager and bedazzled acolyte to deft and quick assistant to learned and popular teacher to top human expert on all things alien to de facto leader of and preacher to all other humans about the coming new golden age of humanity’s true potential, and how with all the lower needs covered, humanity would be free to concentrate on its higher self, and so forth and so on, all that bullshit. People just ate that stuff up.
Eddie neither believed nor disbelieved the hype, because he honestly didn’t care. To him, they were just words to say to get what he wanted. He had tried sincerity and it didn’t get you jack shit. And he had a goal, a very simple but overwhelming goal, and that, to his mind, justified whatever had to be done to achieve it.
They would never know what hit them.
RanJan was once more fighting a bad case of the nerves as he looked out at the sea of world leaders and august ambassadors in the chamber, and tried very hard not to pay any attention to the part of his mind that was thinking of all the millions of things that could go wrong today.
This was worse than Introduction, because at least in Introduction, you did not have to answer questions or plead your case. You just made sure all the pieces were in place, turned up and turned on the various systems, and hoped your Ambassador could deliver the proper information without wrecking the mission. Granted, with The Jacg, that was a more nerve wracking trip than average, but still, worrying about that fool was a lot easier than worrying about him, you, and your three most senior staff.
Speaking of His Royal Fuzziness, there was The Jacg, looking happy and excited as usual, in the middle chair at the table, sandwiched between RanJan and Fendra ostensibly because, as far as the humans knew, the Ambassador was the real leader of this Boosting and RanJan and Fendra his assistants, but in reality so that either or both of them could step in and stop him if he seemed to be going off track or was about to say something that would make life difficult for all of them.
In his private opinion, RanJan would have been quite happy if there had been some way to leave their beloved Ambassador back on the Dawnbringer, where he could do no harm. That, of course, was impossible. You can’t leave the figurehead behind when you are negotiating the Global Pax for an entire species. You can, however, try very hard to impress upon your scatterbrained and inattentive figurehead the importance of the occasion, and hence, the very great importance of him keeping his mouth shut and only answering questions asked of him directly, and even then, handing them off to the others smoothly if he could.
RanJan was pretty sure he and Fendra had gotten this point across to The Jacq, or at least, as sure as you could ever be with someone that eccentric and unpredictable. As long as the fuzzy idiot didn’t absentmindedly tear of his clothing or suddenly start singing one of his species’ extremely filthy nursery rhymes, RanJan would consider the day a success.
RanJan glanced at the other cohorts. Fendra was the picture of prim, serious, sincere diplomat. Amazing how that woman could so effortlessly transform herself into whatever she pleased, thought RanJan.
Doctor looked… well, like he always did, like any Uu’t. Like an eerily motile bush, or like some ambitious anenome who had decided it was fed up with life underwater and decided to sample life on land. Doctor had accepted Fendra’s stern coaching on human etiquette with inscrutable equanimity, and had actually made himself useful not just in his official capacities but as a bit of a surprise hit in human medical and scientific communities, where the novelty of being lectured in their fields by shrubbery had soon given away to genuine appreciation of his refined erudition and theoretical acumen.
And there was GreyUnderDark, male for now and dressed up pretty for once, looking somewhat put out at having to be there and looking daggers at The Jagq for the slip of the tongue that had revealed his role to the people of Earth and hence caused the applied sciences boffins to demand his presence. Somehow, the reply that Grey was not actually part of the top command level of the Dawnbringer did not satisfy them. If anything, it just confused them and made them angrier and more demanding. So there he sat, fuming. On the list of all the things that Grey did not enjoy, having to wear clothing and answer questions about his work were near the top. Grey was not a happy Being, and hoped nobody would call upon him.
And there at the end of the table was dear Eddie, who had impressed them all with his dedication, his sincerity, his extremely agile and voracious intellect, and how rapidly he has risen in their esteem. Eddie had gone from a skinny, sullen kid trying to explain some obscure atmospheric phenomenon to an articulate, energetic, passionate young man who proved especially adept at explaining the large concepts the Boosters were promulgating to his fellow humans in a way that they could readily understand. Eddie could speak to any group of humans in their own terms, something even Fendra has to admire. He had greatly aided them as their sort of omnibus consultant on all things human, and had as a result been adopted as a sort of spokesperson for the whole mission.
He would never admit it to anyone, but RanJan had grown quite fond of the boy (now a man, but RanJan still thought of him as a boy), and he suspected the rest of the top Dawnbringer command felt the same way. Having him be the human representative for the alien’s position on this important day seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Honestly, having Eddie there with them was a comfort to them all.
RanJan sighed. Everyone was seated and settled now, and beginning to look at RanJan’s entourage expectantly. All the cameras and microphones were in place (don’t think about the billions of humans watching, don’t think about the billions of humans watching) and the crowd of commentators in the “commentator’s corner” section were beginning to run out of pre-game small talk.
Time to start the show.
“As we have said before, revered Imam, we of the Earth Boosting Mission have absolutely no position on religion whatsoever.” said Fendra. “Our society considers religion to be a purely private matter and therefore no Being has the right to any opinion about the religious beliefs of any other Being or Beings. Therefore we have no opnion at all about any Earth religion. To offer even the slightest opinion concerning that subject is considered highly inappropriate, almost taboo, and therefore we of the Dawnbringer have absolutely no position on any matters of a religious nature whatsoever. We did not come here to modify, attack, or supplant any of your beliefs. We came here simply as friends who want to help. ”
The Ambassador from Iran listened patiently and reverently to the elderly man seated next to him, and then said “But surely, by coming here with such wondrous gifts and great powers and giving of them so freely, you are setting yourselves up as gods?”
“Does a friend who lends money to another friend in their time of need set himself up as some kind of god?” The Doctor’s Enunciator voice was as smooth, cool, and elegant as usual. “We are not asking for anybody’s allegiance, obedience, or worship. We ask for nothing at all. Our goal is simply to help.”
“But…around the world, thousands are… ”
“We are quite aware of the surge of religious styled worship of, well, ourselves. ” said Fendra. “It is not something we seek or desire, but it is to be expected. We have Boosted many species, and it is always the same. It will pass once our presence and our gifts become more commonplace and routine in the minds of the people. You have no need to worry, revered and holy Imam. ”
“But… if I may… ”
“I am afraid that is all of your time, Ambassador of Iran. ” said Indira Sharma, India’s most beloved newscaster and moderator of this event. “I am sure that you appreciate that we have many more countries to hear from today, and cannot allow any of them extra time at the expense of the others. Next on the schedule is the representative from France. Ambassador Barbier, you have five minutes, starting now. ”
“Merci beaucoup and thank you very much, Madame Moderator. My country’s concern is primarily economic. Our miraculous new friends have promised that we will all have a wonderful device that can produce nearly anything we like, from food to small appliances, with the only input being the copious energies you have already provided to us via your “little blue boxes”. Will this not cause global economic collapse? What is to become of the butcher or the baker when everyone can get their steaks and baguettes from this new machine?”
“An excellent question, Monsieur Barbier, and one I am glad was asked. ” replied Fendra. “The answer will be somewhat complex, but in broad strokes, the butcher and baker need not worry about their livelihoods, because by this time they too will have these machines, and free housing provided by us, and hence far less need for money in the first place. ”
“But… what of the art, the craft? People do not work only for their pay, but for the love of what they do! What will become of that, in your future?”
“It will continue, of course. I should make very clear at this point that the submission of any particular item to the databank of items for… I believe we settled on “replication”… will be entirely voluntary. So if you do not wish people replicating your signature gingerbread for their breakfasts, simply do not have it scanned. You may then continue to charge people money for it as you will remain the only source of it. ”
“However, Monsieur Barbier, ” said Doctor, “if I am not mistaken, one of the things that drives artistic endeavor is the desire to have one’s work enjoyed and appreciated by others. So our theoretical baker might well find it quite satisfying to perfect his gingerbread recipe, submit it to scanning, and then watch as thousands or even millions replicate his recipe in their homes and appreciate his genius. All without him having to bother with running a bakery and working all day making it. ”
“But… I apologize if this seems provincial of me, but I simply cannot understand how the world will function without some kind of currency. ”
“I think the best way to imagine it is to imagine a household, Monsieur Barbier. ” said RanJan. “Within one’s home, there is no need for currency. You do not buy your milk from the refrigerator. Your family does not put coins into the dishwasher in order to make it run. Within the tiny economy of your home, everything is ‘free’. Now imagine the whole world working that way. ”
“Or imagine one of your all-inclusive luxury resorts, Monsieur Barbier. ” added Fendra. ” You do not pay for each thing at one of those. Within the resort, everything is ‘free’, and shared. You do not pay for the food you eat, if you wish a chair for sunbathing you simply take one of the publicly available ones, you sit in whatever seat suits you at a public presentation… this is a perfect model of how a world without currency works. ”
“But that is not the same at all!” objected Ambassador Barbier. “At home or at the resort, you have paid for what you use. You simply paid in advance. Someone always has to pay!”
“That is true, Monsieur Barbier. Therefore, we must switch metaphors.” said the Doctor. “As I understand it, it is common in much of your world to have water supplied directly to your home. Yes?”
“Yes, of course. ” said Monsieur Barbier, somewhat impatiently.
“And this water is available for a flat rate, because it is so cheaply available that there would be no point in charging per, uh… unit? ”
“I believe the word you are looking for is ‘liter’, respected Doctor. ” supplied The Jagq unexpectedly. RanJan peered at The Jacq suspiciously. He hadn’t thought The Jacg was even paying attention. Apparently you can’t even rely on him for that, RanJan thought wryly.
“Ah, yes… thank you Ambassador. The water is not paid for per liter, because it is so cheaply available as to make that pointless. This world is already enjoying seeing electricity gain that same status. With the level of technology we offer, nearly everything you now think of as material wealth will go the same way. In terms of your current economy…. correct me if I am wrong, wise and learned Fendra, as this is your area of expertise and not my own… but as your current economy sees it, it will be a future where economic efficiency has risen to the point where everything is so cheap as to not be worth charging for. ”
Fendra nodded. “Elegantly put for an amateur, revered Doctor. Perhaps we should name you Ambassador as well?”
The audience laughed, and Doctor’s tendril-tips flickered, which was the U’ut equivalent.
“I would not presume such, learned Fendra. ” demurred Doctor.
“But… what will people do all day, without jobs to work at?” protested Ambassador Barbier.
“Whatever they wish to do, Monsieur Barbier. ” replied Doctor airily.
“I don’t…. ” began Ambassador Barbier.
“Allow me to explain the respected Doctor’s comment. ” said Fendra. “Ambassador Barbier, you are no doubt well compensated by the great nation of France for your labours on their behalf, but would I not be correct in saying there are easier and more lucrative jobs in the world?”
Ambassador Barbier laughed. “Indeed there are. But I chose public service as my career when I was just a boy. ”
“It suits you, Monsieur. So it would then be fair to say that your reasons for coming to work each day and doing the excellent job you do are not primarily financial?” said Fendra.
Ambassador Barbier thought about it for a moment, and then nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose so. ”
“And this is true of many Earth beings, is it not? They pursue a career based on what they enjoy doing, what goals they have for themselves, and not primarily what will pay the most money? The money, in fact, is only required because you need it in order to live. If you could have the same lifestyle without the cash, it would be just the same, would it not?”
“In fact, ” added The Jacq, “just as the poorest of your citizens of modern countries lives a life that even the richest men of yesterday could not have afforded for all their gold and gems, in the future, each being will live a life like the richest among you could not achieve today. ”
The Jacq smiled his famous broad uninhibited smile. “In that sense, my Human friends, we are going to make every one of you fabulously wealthy!”
Reaction to that statement was immediate and strong. An excited babble of conversation broke out over the chamber like a wave crashing to shore. It took some considerable time and a good deal of her patience for Indira Sharma to regain control of the assemblage.
“I am afraid that is all of your time, Ambassador Barbier. ” said Indira Sharma. Undoubtedly, many present would like to debate the impact of the Ambassador’s statement at length and in detail, but this is not the time or place. The purpose of this forum is to decide on whether to request the resumption of the Pax field over the whole of the Earth again. I must insist that further questions be limited to that question solely. We are already behind schedule and we all wish to get out of here before our spouses and families start calling and looking for us, do we not?”
The audience laughed, and order resumed.
“Now according to my schedule, the next speaker would be the honorable Ambassador from Chile, but my notes tell me they have chosen to cede their time to the representative from the United States of America. Is the United States representative Alexander Taylor Rutherford prepared to speak?”
“I am, Madame Moderator. ” said A. T. Rutherford. “Now I don’t want to waste anyone’s time, but I simply must say how honored I am to be speaking today to this august assemblage, and especially to be speaking to give real, honest to goodness aliens from outer space. Oh, and my two boys Justin and Kyle say hello. They would never have forgiven me if I had forgotten to say that. ”
Warm laughter all around. The Jaqg smiled his famous smile and replied “Well, on behalf of myself, my colleagues, my people, my ship, and the trillions of Beings in the Conference of Beings…. Hello, Justin and Kyle! ”
More warm laughter. He really is good at this, thought RanJan. It’s so easy to forget it, but he really is charming and charismatic. Which is why were are stuck with him.
The Jaqg lapped up the laughter, then added “Now go to bed! It’s past your sleeping time!”
A. T. Rutherford beamed. “Why, thank you for that, kind sir. My boys will be mighty pleased that the one they call ‘President Bear’ said hello to them on live TV. ”
A few chuckles at that. “President Bear” was a huge hit as a children’s icon. Millions of children worldwide slept with a “President Bear” teddy bear at night, and the series of children’s books wherein “President Bear” had wacky misadventures that coincidentally taught important aspects of Booster philosophy and ethics outsold all other children’s books by a wide margin.
“Now if we may return to the subject at hand… ” , said A. T., “my primary concern is one of defense. I understand how this Pax effect is intended to work, but my country remains concerned that a sufficiently dedicated and ingenious individual could find a way to attack us regardless of the Pax field’s pacifying effect. Suppose someone were to arrange it so that the push of a single button was all that was needed to launch a missile attack against America. That, in an of itself, is not a violent act. Suppose they then trick an innocent and unsuspecting person into pressing said button. The missiles would fly, and America would not be able to stop it because of the Pax effect. What say you to that?”
“I believe I will take this question, esteemed colleagues. ” said Doctor. “Firstly, you must remember that the Pax effect works on the level of intention. So it would block your theoretical person or grope at the point of executing the plan at the first step, in this case, programming the missiles to strike America, knowing in their mind they intended to have it happen. ”
“I see. ” said A. T. Rutherford, sounding thoughtful but dubious.
“But in theory, a sufficiently devious individual might be able to come up with a series of steps so arranged that all the players are unaware of their roles, and hence the missiles are, indeed, flying. This is has not happened in the history of the Conference, as far as I know, but that does not mean it is impossible. Sentience is nothing if not inventive. ” said Doctor.
“This is my concern, Doctor. ” said A. T. Rutherford.
“Then let your concern rest, Representative Rutherford. “, said Doctor. ” Nothing in the Pax effect would keep you from shooting down those missiles. After all, they are not beings, so the Pax field does nothing to keep you from defending yourself. This goes for all other forms of danger. The Pax effect does not make people passive and helpless, it simply makes them incapable of knowingly hurting another sentient being. You may still run from the avalanche or build systems of defense for your country or defend yourself from a violent predator. You just also have the comfort of knowing you are completely safe from acts of violence from other sentient beings. ”
“I will have to talk to my superiors about this, but for now I think you have sufficiently addressed my concerns. ” said A. T. Rutherford. “I cede the rest of my time to schedule adjustments. ”
“I thank you for that. ” said Indira Sharma. “The next country scheduled to address this assembly is Monaco. Ambassador Thierry Bouquier ready to speak?”
“Yes, Madame Moderator, but at this time, we wish to cede our time to another speaker. ”
Moderator Indira Charma frowned, and glanced at her notes. “I was not told of this, Ambassador Bouquier, and it is not on my schedule. This is therefore highly irregular. I trust that this is a recent arrangement?”
“Most recent, Madame Moderator. The negotiations were concluded just this morning, a mere hour before this meeting began, and I myself was only told of them an hour ago. I beg the indulgence of this body for this irregularity, but my instructions from my government are quite clear. We cede our time to another speaker. ”
“And just who is this speaker who considers himself important enough to warrant such a disturbance?”
Ambassador Bouquier cleared his throat, then pointed a finger directly at Eddie. “Him. ”
The crowd gasped as one.
Once more, chaos reigned. The assembled leaders shouted, argued, babbled, and roared. In the commentator’s corner, sweat poured from every brow as, all around the world, billions of people suddenly stopped all they were doing and fixed their attention entirely on what was happening on their screens.
Eddie loved it. This was the moment when all his hard work and ass kissing and elbow twisting paid off. It had cost him absolutely everything he had, including money, brownie points, favours, influence, and persuasive powers in order to create this moment. And it was all justified, to Eddie’s estimation, because in this moment, the eyes of nearly the entire Earth (and quite a few of their new aliens buddies) were on him, and what he was about to do.
Perfect, thought Eddie. Absolutely perfect. It would all be worth it even if he didn’t do a single thing. He could just stand there, smile like an idiot, then make a fart noise with his mouth and sit back down again, and it would all be worth it. He had never felt this kind of power before and he liked it a lot.
But Eddie did not do all this just for himself. He has a mission, and he was going to carry it out.
Eddie rose to his feet, and walked to the center of the open area at the bottom of the chamber. He desperately wanted to see the reactions of his alien “friends” but knew that to look now would cost him too much in terms of the effect he wanted to create. He smiled reassuringly to one and all, picked up a microphone, and spoke.
“First of all, let me apologize to all present for this unscheduled drama. I mean no disrespect. I just wanted to make absolutely sure that my questions were heard and understood, and I thought this was the only way to make sure I had everybody’s attention. ”
“Now before any of you object, ” said Eddie, “to a non-ambassador like myself speaking today, I wish to assure you that, as of approximately 11 am this morning, I am co-Ambassador to Monaco along with my esteemed colleague Thierry Bouquier. The paperwork should be on your desk any moment now. ”
The proceedings paused while a smartly dressed young page handed a sheaf of documentation to Indira Sharma and she took the time to scrutinize it. Eddie was pleased with how tense the seconds that ticked by were.
Finally she nodded. “Indeed you are. Now that your credentials are established, I am sure we are all quite eager to hear what you have to say, young man. ”
“Thank you, Madame Moderator. I promise not to take too long. Now, as we all know, this past century has produced many, many reports of unusual glowing objects flying in the skies of Earth. These have been widely referred to as ‘unidentified flying objects’ or UFOs. Many highly credible people hold the opinion that these objects are of extraterrestrial origin, and may even represent visitations by alien beings such as yourselves. Do you have any light to shed on these theories? Have aliens like yourself been visiting Earth? And to what purpose?”
“As we have taken some pains to explain to you, Eddie, we know nothing of these things. ” said Doctor. “We have examined the various records and testimonies, and spoken with many humans about their experiences, and we are at a loss as to explain these phenomena. No rational theory can be constructed to explain them. It is possible that alien species unknown to the Conference have visited here, but if so, we cannot comprehend why they would act in ways consistent with the accounts. We truly know no more than you on this subject. ”
“Really, Doctor? You expect us to believe that, even with all your powerful technology and science millenia ahead od our own feeble efforts, you can’t explain some lights in the skies and a few people claiming to have been abducted by aliens? You have already revolutionized our understand of a great many sciences and provided explanations for much that was never understood by humans before. And you can’t explain this? Really?”
“You will just have to trust us on this, Eddie. ” said Fendra quietly. It was clear by her tone of voice that she was having trouble controlling her temper.
“Well that’s the problem, isn’t it, Fendra? Trust. You are asking for a lot of trust from we little human beings, aren’t you? We have to trust that your intentions are as good and wholesome and pure as you say they are. We have to trust that your technology does what you say it does, and nothing more. We have to trust that if we accept your ‘help’, you will lead us to a glorious future in Utopia, and not some terrible fate that we are too ignorant and gullible to foresee. Isn’t that an awful lot of trust to ask of us? You have made it abundantly clear that you are far, far more powerful than we can even understand, and could crush us at any moment. It would not even be like the Incas versus the Conquistadors. It would be like a modern battleship versus an anthill. And yet, you expect us to simply take your good intentions on faith?”
The aliens were taken aback by this sudden attack from Eddie. Fendra looked like she wanted to peck Eddie’s eyes out, GreyUnderDark was growling softly, and RanJan kept folding and unfolding his wings in consternation.
“Listen, you ungrateful little shit stain… ” began Grey angrily.
“Oh, have I struck a nerve with the almighty aliens? Do we, at last, see a glimpse into their true nature? It is all sunshine and rainbows when you are firmly in control, but let one of us monkeys challenge you any way, and you respond with growls and insults to put us back in our places? How many times in Earth’s history were trusting natives betrayed by sophisticated outsiders who promised to ‘bring them into their civilization’ and bring them all the wonders of the modern era, but instead were simply exploited, abused, ground under, and then discarded by the great machine of colonialism? Is that the fate we wish for the human race, to be just another lowly slave race in some vast cosmic Empire? ”
A low murmur of discontent flowed through the crowd. Eddie visibly exulted. He said “In conclusion, then, I strongly suggest global Pax be firmly and categorically rejected by this assembly. If they are going to domesticate us, let it at least be without cajoling us into first rolling onto our backs and begging to have our tummies rubbed by our new masters. Let it at least be against our will, and under protest. Let the people of Earth fight their last battle here, today, before they take that option out of our minds too!”
Done with his speech, Eddie sat back down at the aliens’ table, despite this now entailing him sitting next to a GreyUnderDark who was practically foaming at the muzzle with rage. Well, what of it? Thanks to their exalted Pax field, there wasn’t a single thing Grey could do to him. Let the Engineer curse him all he wanted. It wouldn’t do a thing to change the damage he had just done to the aliens lying, scheming, manipulative, selfish plans.
Hide my mother from me, will you? thought Eddie. Then I will burn down everything you have built here and let you known the kind of pain you and your kind have put me through. I may never get my mother back again. But I can take my revenge on those who stole her mind and then stole her body as well.
The crowd uproar slowly died down to an ugly silence. All present stared at the aliens and wondered. RanJan desperately tried to rally his intellect and come up with way to counter Eddie’s betrayal. But he was just plain too hurt, and Fendra and Grey were far too angry, to think. That left…. oh no. A terrible sinking feeling sent a chill all through RanJan’s underfur, and he turned to stare just as it occurred to everyone that the worst thing they could think of was about to happen.
Everything now rested on The Jacq. May the Holy Dark reclaim me now, thought RanJan.
The Jaqg stood up, the very picture of austere dignity. In a voice entirely unlike his usual broad geniality, but instead filled with a quiet and only slightly offended sense of gentle and firm authority.
“I take it we are permitted a rebuttal, Madame Moderator?”
Indira Sharma nodded, and said “Of course. Despite the irregularities, that is still the purpose of this form. ”
The Jaqg nodded, and moved to where Eddie had stood when he addressed the chamber. He seemed to meditate for a few moments before he began to speak.
“First off, I wish to thank my persuasive young friend for broaching this all important subject of trust. I do not necessarily approve of his methods or his timing, but we of the Booster crew have perhaps been taking the trust of our human friends for granted and not paying full enough attention to the delicate issue of the difference of power between our two peoples. If that is so, then let me offer our humblest apologies. ”
Eddie nodded. Somehow, in his plans, he had not thought much about what happened after he delivered his speech. He supposed he had assumed that everyone would just immediately vote no on Pax, and go home. Stupid, stupid.
“Eddie is righr, of course. We do ask for your trust, and were beings such us we are to prove untrustworthy, it could indeed spell untold disaster for humanity. It is easy for me to say that we are here simply to help you and that everything we have said is true and that you can trust us to be as good as our word. But how to know that what I say is true? When the potential risk is as high as this, it is a wise species that exercises a little health skepticism before, as you say, signing on the dotted line. ”
“To put it mildly. ” said Eddie dryly. A few nervous laughs from the audience.
“And the truth is, Eddie, ” ,the Jagq continued, “we can offer no proof of our good intentions other than out actions so far. Against unlimited suspicion, there is simply no defense. Anyone could betray you. That friendly stranger who offers you a ride home might be a maniacal killer. You mother might be a secret agent sent to destroy you. That kitten’s claws might be poisoned. ”
Laughter from the audience. He’s doing it, thought RanJan in disbelief.
“I could point out that we have done absolutely everything we have said we would do, exactly how we said we would do it, but you wouldn’t believe me. All part of our nefarious plan, you would say. Am I right?”
“Go on. ” said Eddie.
“I could also point out that everything we have done so far has proven to be enormously beneficial to humanity, but that, too, could just be our twisted plan to lull you into complacency before pouncing on you like a predator on a small rodent. Yes?”
Eddie laughed. “You said it, not me, ‘President Bear’. ”
“Even if I were to point out that, as you have pointed out so eloquently, we are vastly more powerful than the Earth beings, and would therefore have no reason to use stealth or trickery when we could defeat you… how was it you said? Like ‘a battleship versus an anthill’? This too, I take it, would not appease you?”
Eddie shrugged. “You’re aliens. Who knows why you do anything? You could have motives we human beings could not even comprehend. That’s why we can’t afford to trust you. ”
The Jaqg sighed and nodded sadly, then addressed the assembly once more. “There you have it, then, my human friends. The voice of mistrust and malignancy, suspicion and disharmony, rancor and ruin. As you can see, there is no logical defense against such malign faith. All I can do is ask that you try to keep a clear mind and an open heart, and ask yourself : if you cannot trust someone who has been nothing but good to you, and for you, for this many years, then who can you trust?”
“Nobody. ” supplied Eddie. “You can’t trust anybody. Everybody knows that. ”
“Thank you, Eddie. I believe that makes our respective positions crystal clear. My fellow beings, remember this young man’s words when you adjourn to vote later today. Remember them, and what they represent. They represent the voice of paranoia, suspicion, and mistrust. They represent the idea that absolutely nobody, not even your best friend, not even your spouse, not even your own children are to be trusted. They represent the notion that there are no pure motives, there are no simple agendas, there are no good people. The holiest of your holy men were greedy charlatans. The wisest of your wise men were bumbling fools. The greatest of your humanitarians was just a glory seeking megalomaniac. And even people like we aliens, we Boosters, who have arguably done more for humanity than anyone else in your history and stand ready, willing, and able to do far, far more, should be rejected out of hand just because there remains the slightest possibility that we are somehow doing all this for some mysterious and unspecified ulterior motive. That, in summation, is our friend Eddie’s position. I have no devastating logical riposte for that. All my colleagues and I have to offer is all we have done for you so far, all that we have told you that has turned out to be true, and all that you know about us from having met us and all our millions of fellow Boosters, who have been to your homes and talked with you face to face, even shared a meal with you and played with your child… all we have to offer, in order words, is everything you know about us, and knew before Eddie spoke a word. I will not tell you how to vote. Our position on that is obvious and clear. All I can tell you is that there are only two positions remaining : ours, and Eddie’s. Remember that when it comes time to cast your vote. ”
With that, The Jaqg resumed his seat at the Booster’s table.
Total silence fell in the chamber, then a low and uneasy murmur rippled through the assembled dignitaries like a rumble of distant thunder.
Indira Sharma looked out over the crowd and judged that it was time order was once more restored. “Thank you for your comments, Ambadassador The Jacq. Now I believe the next speaker scheduled is Sunita Byanjankar of Nepal. Miss Byanjankar, are you prepared to speak?”
“I am, Madame Moderator, but I choose to cede my time, so that we may move more quickly to the vote. ”
And as one after another of remaining speakers did the same, RanJan, still somewhat stunned from all these unexpected events, could only sit there numbly, and think about how once more, despite all evidence to his competence, The Jaqg had somehow risen to the occasion at the moment of crisis and pulled of a miracle.
It didn’t make any sense. How does he do it? A Being who most of the time seems about as sharp as a sphere and who frequently has to be reminded to use his autovalet before his fur starts falling out, a Being who keeps three assistants constantly busy just trying to keep him from harming himself and who still manages to somehow do himself some damage at least once a week, a Being who most of the time seems to be barely paying attention to reality and seems lost in a sunshine (ugh) soaked little world of his own, somehow, by some mysterious property of either him or the Universal Perversity or both, seemed to come out of his fog just long enough to pull off the occasional completely unexpected miracle now and then, and then went back to being a bumbling idiot like nothing unusual had happened at all.
It made no sense, and it wasn’t fair, dammit. RanJan had gotten where he was through training, discipline, hard work, focus, and drive.
The Jaqg seemed to not only have gotten where he was without any of those, when he got there, he didn’t even know where he was, and seemed complete oblivious to the prestige he had accrued and the titles he held.
Speaking of which, if the humans vote yes today, they will probably give that moron his own ship.
At least then he will no longer be my problem to deal with, thought RanJan in an attempt to console himself in the face of the blatant inequities of the Universe. And good luck to whatever cohort of Beings had to deal with having a Coord who barely knew what century it was and who often tripped over his own shadow.
This happy thought was interrupted by that annoying part of his mind that knew that even then, the moron would probably still be able to somehow pull off a last minute miracle and make himself even more legendary, and the worst part was, the damn fool wouldn’t even notice.
It just wasn’t fair, thought RanJan.
He almost wished the humans would vote no.
Dell laughed, his wrinkles creasing his ancient face into something like the famous “comedy” mask, as his grandchildren played on the wide, grassy plain that used to be the thriving center of downtown Manhattan. Now, all it sported was grass, monuments, and scattered clumps of the increasingly avant garde buildings the young people insisted were “homes” but were too small and too weird for Dell to consider to be anything more than failed modern art experiments with a bathroom-sized room in them somewhere.
Well, why build something big and functional when for just a credit (or ‘coin’ as the youth rather inaccurately called them) in the local transit both let them ‘telly’ (teleport) to anywhere else on the entire globe in a heartbeat, they could live anywhere in the world where there was room for a bed and a replicator (‘plicker’, and it ‘plicked’ things, disgustingly enough) and maybe a wall screen and that mysterious contraption the young people used for their bodily functions these days. Dell couldn’t remember what the damn thing was called (auto-wallet? no, that didn’t make any sense… ) but the moment he had seen one “demonstrated” on the screen one night and saw the extraordinary liberties it freely took upon one’s person, he knew that this was one bit of alien tech he was not prepared to embrace. Or have it embrace him.
Dell smiled at Tess as she sat beside him, and said “That boy of yours is looking more like his uncle Tyler every day. We’re going to need nametags to tell them apart soon. ”
Tess laughed, and gave her father a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Oh Daddy, you’re so silly. We will always be able to tell them apart as long as my little Tyson keeps changing his hair color. ”
They both laughed at that, and peered down at the scrimmage of grandkids and sure enough, there was eight year old Tyson sporting a hair color that reminded Dell of the cinnamon heart candies he loved as a kid. Sure made him easy to pick out against the green, soft grass.
Then Tess sat down with Dell, and held his hand, and sat quietly with him while they both watched the grandkids frolic on the grass. Her ability to do this, to know when all that was needed was her company and her hand and her kids in order for an old man to be completely happy, had rapidly made Tess his favorite of his kids, and her stock climbed still higher every day. Funny, considering how much they used to argue and fight when she was a teenager about her enthusiastic embracing of the new “love everywhere” culture.
Part of Dell still could not believe he was right in the middle of what used to be Manhattan, arguably the most powerful island in the world. When he was young, before the aliens came (was he ever really that young? Seemed like so many lifetimes ago), he had always assumed that if the great cities of the world were every reduced to grasslands, it would be because something terrible had happened to the human race.
But it was just the opposite. A lot of really wonderful things had happened to the human race, and the result had been that people could live wherever they liked. And as it turned out, there was a hell of a lot of people who were just dying to get out of the city.
So a lot of cities had become depopulated at their densest points. Not only had people moved to roomier areas, but with a replicator in every home, and a transit booth on every corner, an awful lot of the support buildings that used to be necessary organs of a city body suddenly served no purpose. Restaurants? Supermarkets? Malls? Hell, they didn’t even have laundromats and dry cleaners any more. Nobody, not even Dell, washed their clothes any more. They just put them back in the replicator to be deplicated (‘depped’) and got their credit back, and then replicated themselves new clothes when they needed them.
Speaking of credits, Dell took a surreptitious look at his cred score to make sure he had enough to get everyone home again and ‘pay’ for snacks. Phew, he was covered. Weren’t they supposed to have gotten rid of money by now? he thought grumpily. Not quite yet, said the aliens. In a few more generations, sure. But long experience had taught them to take the long view of economic reform.
It’s not like credits were hard to come by. Depping nearly anything organic got you credits. Doing nearly any kind of public work got you credits, even if all you did was go reboot a transit booth that was jamming, or clean up after some careless visitors to a public space. And everyone got a Standard Issue of credits at the first of every month, and once a year, it went up a little. Technically, people still had to work for a living, or at least, had to work if they felt like going anywhere or doing anything or eating something besides the “standard menu” items you could get for free from your replicator. And Dell had seen a report on the screen about people who did that, just stayed home, used the screen, and ate Standard. Seemed like a waste of a Golden Age to Dell, but who was he to judge? If you are happy, you’re successful. Took him a long time to learn that.
Dell’s thoughts were interrupted by a strange electronic coughing sound from somewhere in his vicinity. What the hell is that? Dell thought. He felt a tug on his elbow and turned to see what it was.
It was Tess, looking at him with that annoying amused expression people her age used around him far too often lately. “Dad! Dad, that’s your wallet. Someone is calling you on the wallet, Dad!”
“Oh. ” said Dell, and took the blasted thing out. He knew it was his wallet, of course he knew it was his wallet. He just didn’t remember right away because he was on one of his all too frequent trips down memory lane. Seemed like he couldn’t go five minutes these days without something reminding him of something else, which reminded him of something else, which reminded him of yet something else, and before he new it, some young person was tugging on him and hauling him back to the present for some small thing.
Like right now. “What is it, Tess?”
“You press the green button to talk, Dad!” she said. “And look, it’s Uncle Jim! You like talking to him, right?”
Oh right, the wallet. Well, that’s what they called it anyhow, because it gave you your credit score. But it also did a lot of other things, and in this case, it was what they would have called a cell phone back in the weird old days before the aliens. Yup, there was Jim’s face on the screen and a big green square marked “TALK” pasted right on old Jim’s wrinkly forehead. Good thing you were here, Tess, or I never would have figured that out.
Dell pressed the button and called out “Who the hell is this ugly old man calling me? Where did you get this number, you wrinkled old troll?”
Jim laughed and said “Me old? God damn it, you old monkey, you look like the bumper of a very bad driver. How dare you call me old and ugly?”
They both laughed, and Dell said “Damn, you’re right. What the fuck happened to us, Jim? Stop paying attention for a decade or two, and suddenly you’re old and ugly and asking everyone ‘Have you seen my youth and good looks anywhere? I swear, I had them just a minute ago… ”
More old men laughter, hearty and uninhibited and raspy around the edges. Damn it was good to hear from Jim, thought Dell. No matter how long it had been since their last call, they always started up right where they had left off, like nothing had happened, and nothing had changed.
“So where are you breaking up the beauty of the landscape today, you old fool? Is that Tess I see next to you?”
“Yup. I took her and a random sampling of grandkids to the 9/11 Memorial today, and now they are roughhousing on the grass to burn off the gloom. ” He pointed his wallet down the slope to give Jim a look at the ruckus, then turned it back to himself.
Jim laughed and said “Just look at those little ankle biters go at it. So you took them to the Memorial, huh? How did they take it?”
Dell shrugged. “Hard to say. I think they understood what it was for, and they know from schooling that things were different when you and I were young, but I don’t think they really get it. They have never known a moment when they were not under the Global Pax. Violence is a meaningless concept to them. Or if it does, they think of like something scary and unreal, like… like in the past, people could cast evil spells on each other. I am not sure they even really believe it was really like that once. And you know what? Maybe that’s just fine. Maybe it would be better if we all just forgot. ”
Jim nodded solemnly, and said “Maybe it would be. If they want to know what it was like, they can look it up on the screen. Other than that… why burden them with pain from long ago?”
Dell nodded. “Besides, they will always have us old farts to ask if they really want to know. So what brought you to give me a call today, Jim? Or did you just call to get away from your husband’s nagging again?”
They both laughed. “Aw, hell no, I got him trained now. No, I called you because…. because I saw Jane yesterday, Dell, and I thought you would want to know. ”
Jane? Instantly Dell felt like he was falling through a hole in time, with the decades telescoping around him faster and faster. He could almost hear them whooshing by. With an effort, he forced himself back to the present.
“So, you saw old Jane, huh?” said Dell, with studied nonchalance. “So, how is the old girl doing? Still trying to make up her mind about the aliens?”
Jim chuckled. “Yup. She still goes around telling random groups of people to either trust or destroy the aliens. I think maybe the coin flips less often than it used to, and she doesn’t seem so crazed any more, but she is still pretty crazy, Dell. I wish I had better news for you, old buddy. But she’s still pretty far gone. ”
Dell sighed and nodded. This wasn’t unexpected, but it still hurt. Part of him kept wishing, against all reason, that somehow Jane would just… sort herself out somehow, and come back to him, and he would have his sweet Jane back in his life again.
And of course, a few minutes in a Healing Center would cure her. But obviously, if you have a person who spend at least half the time thinks the aliens are demons from space here to enslave and destroy humanity, the last thing she was going to do is let the aliens do something to her mind.
“Speaking of crazy people, has anyone heard anything about our old buddy Eddie lately, Jim?”
Jim shook his head. “Nope, nothing new since last time we talked. Last I heard, he was still holed up somewhere with that little cult of his, teaching them about the Phoenix Lights and how they stole his mama. ”
This time, Dell was ready, and stopped the time tunnel effect that the words “the Phoenix Lights” sparked in him before it even started, almost. “He must be the only person alive who still gives a damn about those things. No offense, Jim. I know you spent a lot of time on them way back when. ”
Jim laughed wryly. “I sure did. That seems like another person, that angry young man ready to shake the foundations of heaven until the answers fell out. I stopped giving a damn about things like that so long ago that I can’t even remember it. But I guess after what Eddie went through after the Global Pax summit, he had to cling to his beliefs that much harder. ”
Dell nodded sadly. After the Global Pax passed with only one dissenting vote (Monaco’s, of course), the global media had seized upon Eddie as an easy target for public outrage, and for decades after that, Eddie could find no place on the increasingly small Earth where he was safe from people who wanted to either deride him for being a traitor to humanity or pepper him with questions about why he did it, what was wrong with him, and so on.
A lot of people thought Eddie deserved everything he got, but Dell thought it was a hell of a price to pay just for being wrong.
“Do you still see Claude and Margaret now and then?” asked Dell.
“I sure do. Heck, I can’t get rid of them. Seems like every other minute, they are dragging me off to some mountain top or shoreline or godforsaken place in the jungle they just discovered and simply have to show to me before they burst. They are like two kids let loose in a very large playground. And I am the one stuck being the parent who has to listen to them going “Daddy, look, look!” all day long.
Both men laughed at that. “Well, I guess that just leaves crazy old Ted. What is he doing lately?”
Jim boggled. “Don’t you know? He’s on board the Dawnbringer! They’re taking off today!”
Dell cursed his lazy old brain. “Of course I knew, I just… forgot for a moment. Can you believe it? Mom and Dad alien finally think we are old enough to be left alone in the house for a little while. ”
Jim laughed and nodded. “Yup. We will be all alone for five whole years. Quick, let’s break something. ”
They shared a long laugh at that. “All right, you get the guns and the matches, and I’ll jimmy open the liquor cabinet.”, said Dell. “We’re gonna have us a time. So just when is the takeoff supposed to happen?”
“Any minute now, I think. ” said Jim.
“Really? Then I better get the kids together so we can watch it. See you later, Dell. ”
“Seeya later Jim. ”
Dell pressed the button that said “END”, and gathered up the kids.
By the time they were all seated and ready, the Dawnbringer was already casting a mighty shadow on the grass. It maneuvered slowly and majestically into the center of the sky, its five enormous thrusting engines and two trailing manuevering engines forming the familiar “triangle with a tail” pattern seen on nearly everything the aliens put their appendages on.
And then, just like that, it was gone.
“Didn’t that seem even a little familiar to you?” said a familiar voice.
Dell turned. It was Eddie.
“The Phoenix Lights. ” said Eddie. “They looked just like that. ”
My God, he’s right, thought Dell.
Eddie sat down on the grass next to Dell, and smiled a smile they had not seen since the Global Pax Summit, all those many years ago, and said :
“So, now do believe me?”
THE END
