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Authors: Sherwood Smith
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threaten
to take over the earth, and no one believes me?”
“That kind of alien would probably fire first and give demands
later,” I said soothingly. “And they’d take over a radio station or something,
or beam the message off of satellites. And they wouldn’t try to take over a planet with just one ship. You didn’t see a
fleet, did you?”
“No, just one.”
“But . . . what if they’re nice, but their
natural form is really disgusting,” I asked. “Like a bucket of snot?”
“Eccch,” he said. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t shake hands,
though.”
We both laughed.
Then he said, “I guess I didn’t tell anyone about the first
one because I didn’t really believe it myself. And then after the second time,
I kept hoping they’d take me away.” He got up again and circled around his
room, touching wires and things.
“You wouldn’t miss us?”
“Sure,” he said quickly. “But they’d bring me back. At least,
that’s what I thought in my mind. You never know, of course. That’s what’s so
exciting! Another world . . . different
people . . . anything can happen. But I just don’t want their first contact to be with someone like
Jason.”
“Well, on a planet with like four billion people, the chances
are awfully good they’ll get a bozo for their first contact,” I said, “if they
are left to random choices. The thing to do is be the first, someone they would want to meet.”
“I know,” Fred admitted. “That bothers me, too. But how to be
first, when you don’t know where they will land?”
“Well, either that, or try to help the world cut down on its
bozoness and be more like something space visitors wouldn’t put in one of their
horror movies,” I said. “So wherever they land, they find friends.”
Fred snorted. “Yeah, sure. I mean, it sounds great, but
there’s no way one person can cure the world of bozoness.”
“Gandhi didn’t think so,” I said. “Or the Buddha, or St.
Francis. And then there’s always the bad guys, like Hitler or Ghengis Khan, who
wanted the world to be made into what they wanted. If someone told them one person couldn’t make a difference, they sure
didn’t listen.”
“Okay, okay,” Fred said with a laugh. “Hey. It’s nearly
eleven. We’d better be quiet.”
He stopped at the window, his profile lifted skyward.
I got up and joined him, my hands over my ears in the frosty
night air.
For a long time we watched the sky. Some ghostly white clouds
drifted by, but otherwise the stars twinkled peacefully.
Fred whispered after a time, “How would you cure the bozos?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “You’re the smart one. How
would you do it?”
Fred shrugged, his eyes ranging back and forth across the sky.
Fifteen minutes passed . . . twenty . . . half an
hour. Fred yawned once, then twice.
Finally he said out loud, “I guess it’s no good. They’re not
coming.”
“Maybe we ought to get some sleep,” I said. “We can always try
again, can’t we?”
“You do believe me, don’t you, Lisa?” He grabbed my arm, his
fingers icy cold.
“You’ve never lied to me, Fred,” I said. “I believe you.”
He sighed, then turned to shut his window and climb into bed.
I went out, but instead of going to my room, I waited outside
of his, listening. After just a few minutes his breathing changed into the
deep, regular breathing of sleep.
So I went to my room and opened my own window, looking up at
the peaceful night sky.
I thought about what a tremendous task it would be, to change
a big, confusing, frightening, exciting, wonderful world like Earth, to find
some way to help human beings be ready to take their place among the worlds of
the universe.
But that was my job. They’d picked us, orphans from all over
the galaxy, and trained us on the ship we’d called The Orphanage, before they’d
scattered us in various foster homes all over. Our first goal was to find the
potential leaders and
to take over the earth, and no one believes me?”
“That kind of alien would probably fire first and give demands
later,” I said soothingly. “And they’d take over a radio station or something,
or beam the message off of satellites. And they wouldn’t try to take over a planet with just one ship. You didn’t see a
fleet, did you?”
“No, just one.”
“But . . . what if they’re nice, but their
natural form is really disgusting,” I asked. “Like a bucket of snot?”
“Eccch,” he said. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t shake hands,
though.”
We both laughed.
Then he said, “I guess I didn’t tell anyone about the first
one because I didn’t really believe it myself. And then after the second time,
I kept hoping they’d take me away.” He got up again and circled around his
room, touching wires and things.
“You wouldn’t miss us?”
“Sure,” he said quickly. “But they’d bring me back. At least,
that’s what I thought in my mind. You never know, of course. That’s what’s so
exciting! Another world . . . different
people . . . anything can happen. But I just don’t want their first contact to be with someone like
Jason.”
“Well, on a planet with like four billion people, the chances
are awfully good they’ll get a bozo for their first contact,” I said, “if they
are left to random choices. The thing to do is be the first, someone they would want to meet.”
“I know,” Fred admitted. “That bothers me, too. But how to be
first, when you don’t know where they will land?”
“Well, either that, or try to help the world cut down on its
bozoness and be more like something space visitors wouldn’t put in one of their
horror movies,” I said. “So wherever they land, they find friends.”
Fred snorted. “Yeah, sure. I mean, it sounds great, but
there’s no way one person can cure the world of bozoness.”
“Gandhi didn’t think so,” I said. “Or the Buddha, or St.
Francis. And then there’s always the bad guys, like Hitler or Ghengis Khan, who
wanted the world to be made into what they wanted. If someone told them one person couldn’t make a difference, they sure
didn’t listen.”
“Okay, okay,” Fred said with a laugh. “Hey. It’s nearly
eleven. We’d better be quiet.”
He stopped at the window, his profile lifted skyward.
I got up and joined him, my hands over my ears in the frosty
night air.
For a long time we watched the sky. Some ghostly white clouds
drifted by, but otherwise the stars twinkled peacefully.
Fred whispered after a time, “How would you cure the bozos?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “You’re the smart one. How
would you do it?”
Fred shrugged, his eyes ranging back and forth across the sky.
Fifteen minutes passed . . . twenty . . . half an
hour. Fred yawned once, then twice.
Finally he said out loud, “I guess it’s no good. They’re not
coming.”
“Maybe we ought to get some sleep,” I said. “We can always try
again, can’t we?”
“You do believe me, don’t you, Lisa?” He grabbed my arm, his
fingers icy cold.
“You’ve never lied to me, Fred,” I said. “I believe you.”
He sighed, then turned to shut his window and climb into bed.
I went out, but instead of going to my room, I waited outside
of his, listening. After just a few minutes his breathing changed into the
deep, regular breathing of sleep.
So I went to my room and opened my own window, looking up at
the peaceful night sky.
I thought about what a tremendous task it would be, to change
a big, confusing, frightening, exciting, wonderful world like Earth, to find
some way to help human beings be ready to take their place among the worlds of
the universe.
But that was my job. They’d picked us, orphans from all over
the galaxy, and trained us on the ship we’d called The Orphanage, before they’d
scattered us in various foster homes all over. Our first goal was to find the
potential leaders and
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