One Night

One night I visited another planet.  What I was doing on a spaceship is another matter. . . Let’s just go with this fact for the moment.  So, here I was, a visiting dignitary on a mission of exploration and peace . . . at least that’s what the brochure said . . . off to some far off world where few humans know little about the inhabitants or their civilization.  As I returned my tray to its upright and locked position, I was informed that those passengers on the right side of the spacecraft (as opposed to the left side, not the wrong side) would be privileged enough to witness the last gasps of a dying star that the local population had dubbed “Lights out”.  As I watched, what would later be described as a medium-sized star, flicker in a non-random manner, I wondered what effect the loss of this star would have on not only the residents of the planet we were approaching, but the planet itself.  Was I paying homage to a place that was on the verge of an ice age . . . an extinction event in the making.  Too embarrassed to ask the stewardess about what I was witnessing since, because according to the passenger next to me, I had directed my last request, which was for a pillow at her butt . . . I suppose that’s why I never got that pillow and I know that’s why I didn’t ask my question about the dying sun.

Disembarking the spacecraft, it was apparent to me as to which passengers were returning customers or more accurately abductees, but as I stated earlier . . . a story for another time.  The status of the I passengers I mentioned as repeat customers I ascertained because without a word being spoken, they immediately began applying some green, glowing, Vaseline-like substance to their nether regions, while the rest of us looked in abject horror.

“For the anal probes.”  A disembarking stewardess said having noticed the looks of dismay and disdain.
Tightening my belt I looked away from the bare asses which looked oddly enough like jelly filled doughnuts and came face to face with the stewardess who had just spoken.  As beautiful a creature as any of Captain Kirk’s conquests, this buxom lanky female . . . based on human standards of appearance . . . blushed slightly, her blue skin darkening to a rich violet around her cheeks.  After regaining her composure, the stewardess addressed the group again.  In amazement, I listened to this dazzling beauty recite the rules and regulation for visiting dignitaries.  When she completed her orientation, I raised my hand and spoke in her general vicinity, as to avoid making the same mistake I had made with the other stewardess.

“What’s with the anal .  . .”

Before I could finish asking it, she answered my question.

“Oh no . . .”  she said with a smile.  “For some reason, those passengers always seem to offer up their backsides for probes.  Where they got the idea that we aliens . . . “ she said making the familiar quotation signs with her long and delicate fingers. “ . . . “conduct these probes is beyond me.  The psychologists of our planet have however requested that they continue because they feel that this activity gives them insight into the people of your race.”  Shuddering slightly, she continued.  “ . . . If you’re interested, we offer this service to all of the visitors from Earth, along with a free memory hazing treatment and a brain cell reduction at half price.”

After a collective ‘no’ from the group, our azure Amazonian tour guide lead us through several rooms where we were decontaminated by a series of sprays and clothed in shiny new silver jump suits and gold fish bowl helmets.

“As with the probes, these helmets serve absolutely no purpose . . . We just love the black and white space movies of your planet and get a kick out of seeing you guys in these outfits . . . It’s so nostalgic.”  She finished, smiling as if caught up in a memory.

Too disoriented to argue our wardrobe, the group forged ahead to a giant conference hall that was surprisingly reminiscent of those conference halls in the United Nations building in New York City . . . The only difference, albeit a glaring one, being that the delegates in this version were all aliens . . .  at least alien to me.  From the varying shapes, sizes, colors and speech of the other delegates, it was apparent that many other worlds had sent representatives to this meeting.  The air felt electric as the many spirited conversations ebbed and flowed between the various parties.  In a funny way it felt like an homage to the United Nations . . . One delegate flailing his six arms about to get his point across . . . While another sprays his audience with a bright red spittle as he spoke and his audience pretending not to notice the viscous saliva, persumably out of respect for the spitter’s culture.  This slightly disturbing display aside, watching these beings converse and debate was not only interesting, but it was in some way inspiring:  If these inhabitants of other worlds could get along, then surely, there was hope for the people of Earth . . . Of course, I could have been misinterpreting all of their gestures and they could have simply been placing their orders for lunch or planning pre-emptive strikes against one another.
That I would never know, for, as we entered this great hall, the clamor that filled the room died down, reminded me of a movie scene in which Eddie Murphy walks into a biker bar.  All eyes were trained upon the silver clad, bubble-headed bipeds from Earth, including the extra eyes that many of these aliens had.  There in the midst of the bewildered stares we stood, exposed to whatever taunts this crowd might hurl our way.  When nothing was said by either the aliens or our small group, I seized the opportunity to assert myself.

“What’s on the menu fellas?”

I said reaching out to embrace any takers.  Finding none I quickly retracted my arms and tried unsuccessfully to hug away the rejection I felt in this vast and apparently humor-less room.  Luckily for me, our big blue host realized that silence was not the response I was going for, so she promptly began clapping as if I had just delivered the Gettysburg address.  And although what I had said was probably as stupid as my fellow humans presumption of anal probes, I felt that much less stupider when a flurry of sounds and gestures I perceived as greetings came my way from the many alien races that had formed a line in front of our group.  One by one, we were introduced to the various aliens until every delegate had met us, the “Human Beings”.  Once the introductions were complete and those aliens who wanted to had taken their share of photographs with their favorite Earthling, everyone took their seats, as we were lead to ours.  To my surprise, we did not sit in the galleries amongst the rest of the visitors, but were lead to the front of the hall where we were ushered into elevated box seats.  Before all of our seats were small tables, each with its own microphone.  Once settled in, the meeting began, as a barrage of questions were directed at our group.

“Earthlings . . .” the delegate from the Nibulatiean Galaxy (I would learn later) said via some real-time translation device.  “ . . . What is your president or the one known as the president of the United States doing?  He has seemingly broken all of the laws of your land, yet he remains in office.  Back on Praxus Five we would have removed his nelix and stuffed it down his porious majora, not re-elected him as the people of the United States have.”

Looking at my fellow human beings, I could see that no answer was forthcoming, so against my better judgment, I spoke once again.

“I cannot speak for the rest of the population of those who live in the United States, but I for one did not vote for our current president this time or any other time for that matter . . . He just kind of won while most rational Americans were sleeping or something else.  I believe that it was the complacency of the People not the Will of the People that got him elected.  Maybe a little stupidity played a part in the second election as well. . .  I could say, because as I’ve said, I didn’t vote for him either time.”

From their confused looks, I deduced that my denunciation of G.W. did not fit whatever intelligence they had heard pertaining to the people of Earth in general and the citizens of the United States specifically.  After several moments of silence, the same delegate spoke again.

“Well, maybe this, in some way, explains why yours was the first group from Earth to refuse, or more accurately, not request the anal probe.”

Now confused, I thought about this comment and addressed what I deemed the deeper meaning of what it implied.

“Well, as with everything that I have speculated on today, I couldn’t say with any certainty, but perhaps the common link between the probes and the presidents re-election has something to do with the fact that many Americans believe what they are told these days:  Accepting whatever is forced upon them by a biased media as the absolute truth. . . Spoon fed whatever the powers that be wish the populous to believe.  Whether it be alien probes or cartoon pictures of weapons of mass destruction that justify an unjust war or scientific data that disputes the realities of global warming, maybe the people of my country just like getting it up the . . .”

At that moment my microphone and the lights of the great hall were shut off, as giant screen behind us displayed images of Earth and the atrocities committed by its inhabitants . . . Turning my chair around, I felt shamed as I witnessed how these aliens perceived Human beings:  The war in Iraq, Hurricane Katrina and the thousands left homeless in its aftermath, pollution, melting polar caps, neglected elderly and homeless families flashed before my eyes.  Picture after picture and video after video assaulted my senses, depicting those things that could only be attributed to a careless and self-proclaimed dominant species.

“Now, we know that your president is not solely to blame for all of the ills that threaten your vary existence, but he’s done almost nothing but add to them:  He started a war that was not only illegal according to the laws of your government, but immoral in not only its justification but its application.  A war, which was supposedly started for avenge those who lost their lives on the now infamous date of 9/11 . . . A war that has killed more people than were killed in the original attack . . . A war supposedly fought for humanitarian reasons once the specter of weapons of mass destruction was proven yet another falsehood in a string of falsehoods.  How could the people of the United States believe that this war justifiable when there are so many other countries in more dire need than was Iraq.  Your President picked that fight for personal reasons and he’s gotten many of your countrymen killed and or maimed for profit . . . All the while chanting “support the troops”, which he has also failed to do during and after their tours of duty.  He’s abandoned so many of your countrymen in their time of need by ignoring the plight of those in Louisiana.  Even as we speak, there are still thousands upon thousands of displaced former residents of that region who have no idea as to what will happen to them or their families.  He’s sacrificed your economy for the good of the few and has backed industries that guarantee the demise of your species within four generations.  He has received billions of dollars more from the family members of those who planned the attacks on the World trade Towers and the Pentagon than the family members of those who actually carried out these heinous acts.  He was perceived an idiot before 9/11, but a genius afterwards and he has committed the biggest crimes that he could on Earth.  And I think that I speak for all in attendance when I say that we are only happy you’re your technology is such that it does not allow for interstellar flight, because to best his record as the most inconsiderate and dangerous leader alive today, Bush would have leave Earth and attack an alien world . . . Luckily for Earth, you do not possess the technology for for such an attack, for we would have no second thoughts about destroying humanity to save any worlds within your grasp.”

As the video show came to an end and the speaker wound down, the lights came up to utter and complete silence.  Not a word was spoken, especially not from those who sat with me in what I then believed to be a witness stand.  Having waited for this moment or one very similar, I once again took the lead and spoke my mind.

“Well, as I’ve stated, I didn’t vote for him . . . but I did vote, so I have the right to complain and I share your concerns.  I fear for my country and even though I am not a nationalistic person, I love my country, but I can no longer say that I am proud of my country . . . Complacency has gotten the better of the United States and a general malaise permeates most Americans daily lives . . . At least those who care more about the quality of life and less about what they can horde for no other reason than to say that it’s theirs.  I know that desperate times call for desperate actions and I believe that America will see an increase in crimes of opportunity or more accurately, crimes of necessity as the distribution of wealth grows grotesquely out of balance.  As for the survival of my species, I realize that our actions and those actions of our ancestors have left us in a position in which our demise is inevitable, but I also realize that there might be some way of postponing it and that is where those who are in attendance today might be of service . . .”

With that said, talks about what could be done to save the Earth began, leading to a deal affectionately dubbed the Axis of Evo . . . lution:  A treaty which set operation “Burning Bush” in motion.  In short we came up with a plan to save mankind, which involved helping mankind to evolve to another state of being . . . a synthetic evolutionary jump that would allow the people of Earth to survive in a carbon dioxide rich, aquatic environment.  It’s been hard living so far from home for the past twenty years, but there was really no other way, since all involved in the Axis program thought it best that I not have the algae dermis and glungs operations.  Perhaps someday I will . . . when the isolation of being one of the last men from Earth becomes too overwhelming.  Until then, I will continue to serve man.
As for the last president of the United States, he still has a small contingent of supporters.  They actually live here and they seem to have settled in with their leader G.W. who not only conducts the anal probe sessions but also does a fine job of demonstrating the proper technique for insertion . . . I cannot say for certain, but I think his inclusion in this practice is an act of redemption.

THE END