Man of the World

SPRING

 

Herb continued, "So, where are they all? This is my point. For the past everything's well-documented, and for the present everything's well-observed. Everyone's got something that gets radio waves. You telling me the 'aliens' are using something other than radio waves? Every electrical event makes radio waves, so something must be detectable. Ah, but maybe you're going to say that the aliens know how to block our reception. That'd mean--purely logically--that way before we invented radios the aliens knew we were going to invent them. That's not at all sensible. So they're not here, and it's not that we're just not seeing them like in that John Carpenter movie. So let's reason out why they're not here, Charlie. Listen, listen. Let's consider the scale of the universe. One mathematician back in the seventies or whatever said that probabilities said that there had to be around eight chunks of intelligent life in the universe--the whole universe, all of it. Now consider the speed of waves. It's pretty reasonable to say we won't receive any signals, nor will they receive ours, for a billion years at the earliest. That's physics. Because the universe is so big. Real spaceships? Forget it. If you got no radio, you got no ship. Because how could you possibly communicate with your mission control? They're not ... triremes. So look at it. We're at this point in history where we can reason here that, sure, there are aliens in the universe, definitely: but goddammit we won't have any contact with them for at least a billion years! By that time we'll be the ones doing the space-travelling. They're not coming. We gotta live with what we got. No magical faeries are coming here from Alpha Centauri to make everything better." Herb stopped talking to drink. The bartender said, "I don't disagree," and went to tend to some of his other flies.

Next morning Herb woke up at seven-thirty (by alarm) with a tolerable hangover. He looked out his apartment window at the blossoming spring trees before turning on the kitchenette light to scare the roaches away. He boiled himself a cup of coffee to drink a quarter of it before leaving.

His car radio said aliens had been spotted.

When he got to work he went straight to the seedy lunchroom where the tv was. Everyone was gathered there.

The redhead from shipping said, "I'm going to look out the window."

The fat guy from receiving said, "They're not over us, they're over Buenos Aires."

The local station--Channel 5--was picking it all up from some Argentina station that had blue-green-red balls in the upper corner. The local anchors were talking and talking about it even though nothing much was happening. All they could say was that there was a spaceship up in the sky over Buenos Aires, that it was massive, fifty miles across experts estimated, and that it was just sitting there, soundlessly.

Herb said to his nearby fellow-worker, Mike by name, "I didn't think this was ever going to happen. Just last night, I think I was saying to someone that--"

"It's amazing!" cried Mike. "I wonder what they're like. They gotta send down a landing party."

The redhead said, "Or just laser us all to death."

The fat guy said, "Or just beam us up and eat us."

Herb, realizing he wasn't being paid because he hadn't punched in yet, went into the hall to the time clock. On the way he ran into Daph.

"Daph! Did you hear the news? Aliens! They're here!"

She said, "Don't believe it. They're not aliens. They're from the government."

"What? It appeared out of the sky."

"That's just because it was hiding on the dark side of the moon. Where it was built."

Herb looked Daph over. He was secretly in love with her. Her hair was long, her glasses sparkled, her complexion was clean, and statistics said she had hips hidden under her baggy black clothes. That she thought the aliens were from the government--that was an icebreaker. "Daph--we have to find a quiet place and talk this over."

She wrote down her address. "Come to my place tonight."

"I'll be there"

"Gotta go answer phones."

"See you tonight."

Herb went back into the lunchroom. The spaceship--if spaceship it was--was just hovering. What's called a banner crawled across the bottom of the screen. It had something to do with the upcoming regional elections being just three months away. Herb thought, I should run. He was feeling lucky.

 

 

WINTER

 

Herb stood and said, "Mr. Speaker, we have to look to the facts, and from the facts we can say what is to come. Emissary T'gox's instructions from his home galaxy are entirely benign-sounding. We have seen none of that 'To Serve Man' tomfoolery that certain chatterers seem fixated on. We have received massive benefits from our contact. We should as soon as possible acknowledge that Mars is now the possession of the alien empire of Ternag. For, fact: They have built an entire small city on Mars. And, for, fact: we as a planet have a couple-two-three robots on that planet that, frankly, are either broken, abandoned, or obsolete. The conclusion? They quite obviously outrank us in so-called homesteading rights. So we should say: Howdy, neighbour. So we should say: We appreciate the embassies you've put into New York, London, Tokyo, Mumbai, Berlin, Buenos Aires, Rome, and Lagos. Isn't it obvious that we have nothing to fear from the Ternags? They've never lied to us. The very idea that they are infiltrating our population and our species is absurd. So when the member opposite brings up slavery, well, I think it's absurd! Every economist from Adam Smith on has proven that slavery is an economic dead end, when trade, the author of all wealth, is available. We are trading with the Ternags, and we--and they--are growing more wealthy. To accuse these gentle giants of plotting to enslave humanity is a diplomatic insult! On the contrary, we have representatives negotiating our entry into the agreements that the Ternags have with a dozen other alien civilizations. We can only hope and pray these negotiations are progressing in all sincerity. We need the trade. This is my argument, Mr. Speaker." Herb sat down as his party rose to applaud and hoot. Herb glared across at his opposite. Negotiations were, in fact, going swimmingly. A white paper was due to be tabled in three months, and that would certainly settle the member opposite's hash.

Next morning Herb got to his office at nine bang on the dot to discover some kind of a hub-bub taking place. Upon enquiry, his Managerial Secretary told him that the Ternags had announced they were going to make a major interplanetary relations statement at 13:30 GMT (which meant in about a half-hour or so).

Herb said, "I wasn't informed of this. Was anyone informed of this?"

His Managerial Secretary said, "Not even our trade representatives were informed."

"Who's in charge of lodging official complaints around here?"

"You are."

"Oh. Okay, so, let's get going on writing up an official complaint. What's today, Thursday? I want it done by Tuesday afternoon."

Herb went into his office tastefully constructed of Middlesex oak, Kenyan ebony, Persian drapery, and Japanese silk. He was a man of the world, and no expense can be spared for a man of the world. He found the clicker and turned on the big screen television. On cable the commentators were chattering away. Finally, the Prime Ternag Emissary was represented on-screen, as his voice was represented likewise by one of those squawk-boxes that Stephen Hawking made famous.

The announcement was simply that trade negotiations were being called off and that all inhabitants of the planet Earth were now the slaves of the Ternags. The internal relations of the people of earth were unaffected save that all titles--job titles, official titles, honorary titles--had to be henceforth enclosed in ironical quotation marks to signify that said titles were kind of a joke all things considered.

Herb went out of his office before the announcement was concluded. To his 'Managerial Secretary' he said, "I didn't expect this at all! We have to re-draft our official complaint."

"We haven't even drafted it yet."

"Well, make it bigger. Make it a serious complaint. And have it done by Monday."

"No can do. Paul and Phil are going fishing for the weekend."

Herb wiped his brow. "I suppose there's no way to fight that. But make it a serious complaint."

He went back into his office to call his wife Daph. She answered after six rings.

"Daph, did you hear? We're all now slaves of Ternag!"

"Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose."

"That's a terrible thing to say! We've lost sovereignty!"

"You're talking convenient legal fictions, Herb. I think I'm pregnant. Could you stop and get me some old cheddar? There's a fondue I'm trying to make."

 

 

FALL

 

Herb was sitting comfortably with an empty bladder. The light went on over the camera and he proceeded to read from the Teleprompter. "Good evening, my fellow 'citizens.' As you're aware, we're living in the days of unprecedented stress and strain. People don't know where to turn and they don't know what to believe. I've chosen to take this opportunity to share with you some truths. Misconceptions have been spreading like electronic wildfire over the Internet, with a group of people fomenting unprecedented levels of discontent vis-à-vis our servility to the Ternags. I want to disabuse you of these phantasms. Listen. Unfortunate though our slavery may be, life, as anyone can see, has been going on in an unchanging fashion. Children are being born and couples are being married. Commerce between ourselves and with the Thirteen Empires goes on normally. We've never been happier! Yet certain groups have been spreading seditious rumours about the possibility of a forced evacuation from our planet of some moiety of our populace. I'm here to tell you there's no truth to these rumours. Let me be clear. How could it possibly benefit the Ternags? Isn't a native population, with all its worldly wisdom, with all its local knowledge, better able to make efficient use of bred-in-the-bone know-how than, say, a group of aliens with an entirely different relationship to hydrogen, carbon, iron, and magnesium? We possess memories stretching back to our days in tree and cave. This knowledge is our birthright, and the Ternags must rely on us for it. Thus it's safe to say that it's well-nigh absurd to fear that our planet will be effectively depopulated at this or any other time. Reassure your friends and neighbours that under my guidance they're safe. I wish you a good evening." The light over the camera went dark. Herb was happy to feel he had done his part properly, and with a bit of sophistication too, what with using 'moiety' and all.

Next morning Herb woke up with a tolerable hangover, perfectly acceptable to a 'President.' He went downstairs to his office in the 'Presidential' Mansion and turned on his computer and went to his email account. He was shocked to find that there were about three times as many messages as usual. He read the most recent one, and that was enough. He called his 'Secretary' and told her to get his 'Trade Minister,' his 'Foreign Affairs Minister,' and his 'Minister of War' into his office in five minutes. He put on his pants while he waited.

Once they were all settled, Herb said, "I was not expecting this."

The 'Trade Minister' said, "The deportations don't start till three this afternoon, so we've got some time."

"I can't believe they would do this! After all we've done for them!"

The 'Foreign Affairs Minister' said, "My name's on their list, you know. What do I know about mining?"

"I'm going to look like a schmuck. Again."

The 'Minister of War' said, "I'm getting shipped off, too. I wonder how they chose who to take?"

"How did they choose? They've got enormous brains, that's how! They know more about ourselves than we do! They know who your grandparents were, and their grandparents!"

Herb stormed out of the room. Something like half the population of Earth was to be deported to mining colonies over three weeks' time. He went back to his living chambers where he saw Daph stretched out eating chocolate-covered cherries.

She said, "What's up? How's the 'Prez' business?"

Herb sat down and quietly said, "The Ternags are taking half the population of Earth to their mining colonies."

"Well," she said, "the place was getting pretty crowded anyway. Look on the bright side. Gotta serve somebody and all that."

"I went on tv last night and said it was impossible. I must look such a fool."

"Can't be right 100% of the time."

"No, I suppose not. Maybe I should call up the Ternags and get more details." He picked up the phone and arranged the call. The Ternags said they were busy and that the 'President' should call back in the evening.

Herb said, "I guess this means they really hold all the cards."

"At least they're not eating us."

"Yes, at least they're not eating us."

"Yet."

 

 

SUMMER

 

As he was dressing that summer morning, Herb thought through the speech he was going to write that evening and broadcast all around Earth (pop. 1b) next day as its 'Acting President.' "Statement of my position as 'Acting President.' The worst is over, word from the Ternags, we've pushed them on promises, they're happy. Then stuff about closing the Internet with all its rumours and stuff, all that toserveman.com and all that eatingpeopleiswrong.com stuff, just ad pages really, then the refutation of those rumours, scientific principles, the biology of it, don't get too sciencey. The fundamental molecular principle between us and them, we're lousy food for them, and that they can't turn us into nutrients just like how we can't turn, um, say, gold, into a nutrient. We can't metabolize gold 'cause our molecules just won't bond or whatever to it. For them to eat us is impossible. We're not the same stuff. Explain a bit about their digestive systems, how half of it happens outside their bodies, analogies to cows with their four stomachs. Vaporizing their food first through a gas emitted by their, what, extra organ. Then they can bring it into their mouth things, and that's that. Besides, um, why would they want us all eaten? Three-quarters of us are mining the planet, the other quarter are making future workers. That's economics, that's biology. Fair trade, emphasize. More valuable as workers. 'They've not harmed a single citizen.' Reason, emotion, calm 'em down. Wonder stuff then. The vastness of space, get that Carl Sagan stuff in it, billions and billions. The Thirteen Empires, really huge, we're just little, each one of the Thirteen has peaceful diplomatic relationships with hundreds of smaller subject peoples just like us. 'The numbers are staggering.' Everything we've learned about forms of matter, the dozens we can't even understand. Other geometries now, end on that, how wonderful it is we know so much more now." Herb was now dressed. He left his dressing-room and went to the main foyer.

The place was unusually quiet. He heard slow steps and he turned. It was Daph coming in from the patio, and she didn't look at all well. The skin of her face looked loose, but not wrinkly; rather puffy, like it had all over expanded, but still loose. She said, "Did you see that breeze?"

"I was getting dressed."

She gestured vaguely outside. "I was standing out there, and it came up all at once. Warmish. Some branches fell, and the birds were quiet. I don't know what it was. It's gone now."

Herb moved towards her. She was getting more and more pink. "What's wrong with you?"

She laughed phlegmatically a little, said, "I dunno. I feel funny all over. My face feels funny." She scratched her cheek and a flap of epidermis folded off like it was wet leaf. She looked at her bloody finger. "Wow." She went to the mirror. "Wow. Is this, like, leprosy? I don't feel a thing." She pulled at the loose flap and more peeled away.

"Don't pick at it, Daph! I should get you to the hospital."

"Okay, I guess."

He took her hand--noticed it was soft and squishy--recoiled--touched her shoulder, feeling a mushiness inside--and walked her to the door.

"I feel like I'm walking in mud," she said. "So odd. Sorry, I'm not being very funny."

"That's okay. C'mon."

He opened the passenger door for her and she fell into the seat. The tear on her face had torn more due to the weight of the torn bit. The skin on the other cheek was showing signs of translucence. Her whole face looked like it was melting. Her hands were wet with blood. "I don't know what's happening," he could make out her saying through her mush-mouth.

Herb got in and drove. He saw zombified people out there, and people tending after the zombified people out there. Cars were stalled and stopped on the road. Suddenly the trees started bending--a great wind was passing through. It was a nice sunny summer day. Branches were falling all over. The wind abated, and it was still again.

"I don't think that's normal wind. Am I wrong?"

Daph said nothing. Herb looked over at her. She was probably not alive anymore. Her face, her arms, her body, all was just a misshapen glob of bloody flesh dressed in the latest fashion.

Something in the sky. Were they birds, buzzards? He could hardly believe his eyes: they looked like old-fashioned Electrolux vacuum cleaners.

There was no longer any point to going to the hospital. Herb drove to the factory where he used to work. The place was shut down, but he tried his key at the shipping dock door and it worked.

The place was simply abandoned. Machines and garbage were all over the place. It was dusty, dirty, and smelled bad. Herb went into the seedy lunchroom. The television that had showed him news of the alien invasion two and a half years before was still there. He turned it on but there was no cable and he didn't know how to switch it to antenna reception.

"Here I am," he said. "Plenty of pre-packaged food. There's probably more elsewhere in the building. This is pretty good, I must say. A stroke of luck. Nothing turned out as I'd expected it. I was wrong again and again. I'm only human. I can't be blamed for that. In any case, here I am. Safe and sound. Plenty of food. I can just stay here forever."