It's how you play the game

George Brunski awoke Saturday morning with a heavy duty headache. He hadn't earned it this time. Not a single drink last night. George sat up and massaged his temples, thinking he should have hit the bar with the others. It had been a bitch of a day at the lab. George was a research chemist for a large pharmaceutical firm. To be precise, an assistant researcher having somewhat limited visibility. Friday had not been a good day. He'd spent most of Thursday night at the lab completing an already late analysis report. George was frustrated. He believed in his own abilities and was sure he could contribute if only given the chance. His team leader was an ass and the report had been a redundant, make-work project.

George stumbled to the bathroom, in need of excedrine. He gulped down the pills and returned to the bed, grabbing the remote and turning on his flat screen. Yes, he should have attended Willy Putnam's celebration down at Dorsey's. Putnam was another team leader who had just completed a major project for the lab. Willy was good, and his people always shared in his successes. George desperately wanted to find a way onto Putnam's highly visible team. George stared at the ceiling, concentrating on pain relief. He looked back at the TV, currently tuned to GSN. Gene Rayburn was voicing an old man and asking the panel to fill in the funny blank. George was now hearing an annoying buzzing sound. He noticed that a blue halo had formed around the light fixture in the center of his ceiling. He raised up on both elbows and saw a sparkling blue nimbus surrounding everything in the bedroom. He swung his feet to the floor and grabbed his head as the buzzing reached a crescendo and the room seemed to tilt sideways.

"What the hell!" George wanted to scream. But he could not scream. In fact he could not move at all. He now felt a presence in the room. He was terrified. It felt like a mild electric shock was coursing through his body. I'm having some kind of fit, thought George. Maybe a stroke? He could now see movement to the left side of his bed. A small creature, gray with large black eyes, was standing directly next to the bed staring at him. George's heart thudded in his chest as two more of these creatures moved in on the right side. They all reached forward with long spindly fingers and touched his face and his arms. The buzzing sound increased and a bright white light filled the room, It came in through the wall. Suddenly George felt weightless and rose in the air. He and the visitors floated up and through the wall into the night outside. As George looked up and saw a glowing orange sphere above and began to float towards it in the arms of the grays, his overtaxed mind performed a defensive withdrawal and consciousness came to an end.
* * *


George drifted in warmth and heard a sound like the gentle swishing of oars in water. His headache was gone. He was ready to open his eyes, but a soothing female voice compelled him to wait and to listen carefully as she explained what had happened and why George was no longer in his own bed. George thought this was just fine and did as he was told. He listened dispassionately to an incredible story. His mental process during the lecture was almost humorous. He'd been told to ask no questions, so he didn't. As each amazing detail was described, a small voice to one side of George's mind rose up in fear and disbelief - but was forced to lie dormant. At the same time George responded calmly to the female voice with understanding and acceptance as he absorbed the information given. Finally, he was told to open his eyes.

Brunski's vision settled on the ceiling of a small chamber. Directly overhead a square patch in the ceiling glowed with a deep and soothing blueness. The blueness rippled at it's surface and George heard peaceful water flowing in his mind as he gazed at it. He lowered his gaze and surveyed the rest of the room as the section of the (bed?) directly behind his back moved upward to support him. One wall contained a silver rectangle which might be a door, but the panel was flush with the wall itself.

Brunski looked down at himself. He was dressed in a one piece coverall. A strange symbol appeared on the left breast. He pushed on the bed's dark blue surface and felt a yielding force rather than material. George finally focused his attention on the woman sitting at the side of his bed. She was medium build, blond haired and quite attractive. She wore a white tunic. She was watching him expectantly with violet eyes.
"I'm permitted some questions?" asked George. The woman nodded and smiled briefly but answered in a very formal tone. "Yes, Mister Brunski. I'll answer to the best of my ability for the allotted time, then you have a decision to make. Those are the rules." Brunski nodded, marvelling at his own calm in the face of utter insanity.
"Who are you?" he asked.

"You may call me Betty, Mister Brunski. I am a generated image of a familiar and comfortable form, here to greet you and answer your questions during your orientation period." George scratched his cheek absently.
"You're not real, then?"
“No", answered the image, "but don't be concerned. I am here to assist you. You will proceed no father until you have reached a decision to participate."
"Where exactly am I, again?" asked George.
"You are on the the hub planet of the BZZZZZTTT galactic confederacy of multiverse 1036,211. More specifically, you are in a preparation area near the hub network beamstation. But Mister Brunski, I strongly suggest you don't waste time re-covering the topics which were presented during your indoctrination."
"Okay, okay," said George, hands extended in a request for understanding, "I'm still adjusting to all this." George attempted to fill in some blanks in his recently acquired information.
"How was I indoctrinated and how is it that I understand your language? How can I be so damn calm?"
"The indoctrination is carried out telepathically under the influence of the," Betty paused and pointed at the rippling blueness in the ceiling, "device you see there. I'm sorry but there is no translatable equivalent."

She seemed genuinely distressed by this fact but continued anyway. "Everything you say and hear while in Galactic Center will be translated to the most appropriate available equivalent. This device," again pointing at the ceiling, "relaxes your mind and eases your emotional response. It allows you to absorb a great deal of information quickly and assess it's validity non emotionally.
"What are the gray creatures?" George was almost afraid to hear the answer. She smiled. "They provide transport of our guests from one dimension to another - that's all."

George looked up at the blueness and nodded. Considering his current state of mind under this remarkable set of circumstances - he believed. Suddenly, the blueness stopped rippling and faded from view.
"We have almost reached your decision point, Mister Brunski," said the image. "The mental therapy has been discontinued so that you will be your emotional self at the start of the game. It will take a little time for the effects of the BZZZZZTTT to wear off completely."
George felt no immediate change in his mental state. He understood where he was and the enormous opportunity which lay before him. He would not pass it up. He would play the game.
Evidently Betty was feeling short on time as she didn't pause to explain that her statement contained an untranslatable term.

George felt his first mild pang of concern as he remembered the start of his trip and the fact that it had not been far from pleasant. He pushed the feeling aside. He had no further questions. The only missing piece was the name of the game. The situation was beginning to take on a dreamlike quality, but George knew it was real and felt the weight of a new responsibility.
"Very well, Mister Brunski," said Betty, raising a small silver rectangle above which floated two glowing spheres the size of golf balls. "We have reached the decision point in this interview. Do you understand the rules as presented?"
George nodded. His stomach was beginning to quiver.
"Do you accept our offer of contestancy in the Galactic Hub Network's gameshow - Alien Antics?"
"If you accept, Grasp the green sphere. Grasp the red sphere if you decline. If you decline you will be returned to your point of origin with our thanks."

George stared at the glowing orbs. He could not tell if the effects of the mental whatchamacallit had totally worn off, but he was beginning to feel tense. Did he have a chance to win? How would he feel when this image was gone and he faced a living alien opponent? They had told him that the show was very highly rated. It would be beamcast to the entertainment pit (?) of domiciles throughout the Confederacy. He believed it, crazy as it was. And if he won! If he won...
George couldn't even think about it. He closed his hand over the green ball and it popped like a bubble. His hand glowed green for a moment, then returned to it's normal shade.
"So recorded," said Betty. "Mister George Brunski of planet Earth, multiverse 667,203 - welcome to the Galactic Hub Network. I hope I have been of assistance and I wish you the best of luck in your game. You may proceed with your warm-up."

She faded from view like an old style television picture - down to a small white dot - then nothing.
"Wait!" cried George, tension mounting and fear creeping in, "what's the game? You haven't told me the game!" The silver rectangle in the center of one wall rippled then shimmered out of existence, revealing an exit. George licked extremely dry lips and swallowed hard. He rose from the bed, finding his legs a bit wobbly and rubbed his hands against his hips. He walked slowly toward the door, hoping he wouldn't regret this decision. His small internal voice, the voice of reason, returned and assured him that he was dekusional. Brunski told the voice to shut up and leave him alone.

He walked out into a much larger room. The floor was dark blue and he suspected it was made of the same stuff as the bed. He stayed by the doorway and looked around, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. His eyes slipped past the familiar object in the center of the room several times as they were drawn here and there, seeking understanding. He finally focused his attention on a transparent section of the far wall about fifteen feet off the floor. Through the transparency George could see things moving about. Obviously living creatures, but again George's eyes desperately sought a frame of reference. There were several balls of orange light floating in and around the beings on the platform. The creatures themselves came in different shapes and sizes. Some squatted, one hopped, several crawled and at least two stood upright.

George spent some time examining the two that were standing, as they appeared at least somewhat humanoid in shape. An authoritative voice came out of the air causing George to jump back toward the doorway and bump into the cool silver sheet that had reappeared behind him.
"Mister Brunski, we don't have a lot of time so please move to the table. We'll begin recording the show very shortly."
George walked slowly to the table, which he had finally recognized. It was made of wood - at least it looked like wood - and had a white line down the center. A giggle escaped George's lips. He touched the blue playing surface.
"The game is Ping-Pong, Mr. Brunski," said the voice.
George picked up a paddle.
Ping-Pong.

He used to play often, but it had been a while. He laughed nervously under his breath and began to think he might actually have a chance at this. Then George heard a lheavy thumping and glanced up. He inhaled sharply and backed away, his pulse racing. A monster was approaching him across the floor! George struggled to interpret what he was seeing. The thing looked like a cross between a rhinoceros and a centipede. A rhino standing up on two thick hind legs with about thirty reticulated arms undulating around the underside of it's heavily armored torso. Two larger arms matched it's feet at about chest level. The creature had a large horn on it's head, but no eyes were located near it's base. One huge blue eye stared at him from the chest area, centered between the main arms. Beneath the eye was a huge, toothy mouth. He was hearing the thump-thumping of the creature's feet as it trotted towards him.

George continued to move away, but somehow tangled together the lightweight boots he wore and sat down hard. The solid floor softened, cushioning his fall. The monster had stopped near the other end of the table and George climbed slowly to his feet, his stomach trembling. It took a tremendous effort of will to remain where he was. He stared at a white patch attached to the creature's chest below it's mouth. It contained the same symbol which adorned George's coverall. It finally penetrated that this was his opponent. If he didn't pull himself together the game would be over before it began.

His inner voice spoke once more - urging George to run, escape or wake up, whichever he felt he could do fastest. He screamed an obscenity back at the voice and managed a shaky step toward the table. The creature twisted the upper part of it's body around in a movement that looked physically impossible and looked up at the directors of the game show standing or flowing or hopping on the platform above the play area. George followed it's gaze and realized they were watching him. He could be disqualified at any moment. George managed to break loose from the numbing vise clamped on his mind. He moved to the table, tapped his paddle on the surface, then backed away two steps.

George could not look directly at his opponent without losing focus. The creature swiveled back and grabbed it's paddle with the arm closest to the table's surface. The paddle was quickly passed upward by a series of extensions and sort of flowed to rest in the alien's right arm - the big one next to the eye.
"Contestants!" said the commanding voice from nowhere. "Begin your warm-up!"
One of the glowing orange balls took a position to one side of the table in line with the net. A large bubble emerged from the floor and floated up next to George. It contained a white ping-pong ball. George looked up at the booth, then reached for the ball. He discovered he could reach through the bubble and pick it up. The bubble immediately floated away. George tossed the ball, beginning a practice volley. The alien's first return hit the net. George released his breath and stifled a giggle, thinking - Ah ha, only Human after all... as the bubble returned the ball to George.

They volleyed. The only sound in the room was the pa-plink, pa-plunk of ball against wood. They each missed occasionally and the practice had an easy flow - neither player making any hard shots. There was very little spin on the ball. George knew he was capable of more intense play. It was corning back to him – like riding a bike. But could his opponent also intensify his performance? George couldn't tell. He had difficulty watching his opponent to study it's play. He kept his eyes on the table and watched for the ball. The bubble suddenly appeared, snatching the ball in mid flight.
"The practice period is over. Contestants move to their stand-by positions!"

George watched the creature move away toward a portion of the far wall. George walked to his area and stood with his arms folded, both to calm his shaking stomach - and as a defense against all comers in multiverse 1563311. His headache was returning and the debate between logic and emotion raged on in his mind. Slim silver rods rose soundlessly out of the floor in a wide circle surrounding the table and in a semi-circle in front of George's position at the wall. The very air itself within the circle created by the rods suddenly changed to a crisp yellow color. It looked as if a huge three dimensional cake had appeared with the ping-pong table at it's center.

Two of the orange balls floated down and took up positions at either end of the table. At each end of the large rectangular room, the walls faded to transparency and revealed two other sets of contestants and their own playing areas. Orange "judges" floated in different positions in each chamber. George found his pulse racing and head pounding as strange sounds began to fill the room. He was sure he heard scattered applause mixed with whistles, squeaks, clicks and roars.
Now a new sound - louder than the audience. It had a strange resonance - a whining twang...music ?

"Gentlebeings of the Hub!" shouted a new voice above the music and applause. This voice also seemed masculine, but more vibrant and excited.
"Welcome to this cycle's beaming of ALIEN ANTICS!"
The hidden crowd roared, moaned and buzzed in increased volume as the music seemed to reach a climax. Then the music faded and was replaced by a dull rumbling. George was confused, sick to his stomach and completely captivated by it all.

"The stakes!" continued the announcer dramatically. "To Hubworlder winners in each contest! - A fully furnished vacation residence on the Hubworld of their choice with lifetime transportation provided at absolutely no cost to the winner!"
The crowed mooed and jingled in delight!
"To non-member alien winners! - Probationary membership in the Galactic Confederacy for their home planet with no dues for the first BZZZZTTT! This membership comes well in advance of anticipated contact - which may or may not have been approved otherwise! The winning non-member alien will receive a tour of the inner planets of this sector !" The crowd went wild!
"The runner-up in each contest will receive a consolation gift from one of our sponsors," added the voice as a follow-up.

The rumbling sound ceased and the announcer picked up the pace. "Now! here's how we play Alien Antics! Three randomly selected non-member aliens have been chosen as contestants and have agreed to compete in a game of our choice from their own home world! The three Hubworlder contestants have absorbed the rules of the selected game and are ready to compete. It's that simple! One game only - and one winner from each pairing! You viewers out there will see the highlights of each game as it's being played. But remember, you can re-construct any game in it's entirety at your leisure!"

The background music returned. "And now! Our contestants!" George stepped forward into the semicircle of rods as he'd been instructed. The other non-members were introduced first. Then it was George's turn. The air around him turned yellow and he saw himself appear above the ping-pong table in three dimensional perspective.
"…And from the planet Earth in multiverse 546788 – GEORGE BRUNSKI!"
The volume of the crowd rose again as George watched vital statistics flash by next to his image above the table. Height, mass, occupation, intelligence according to the BZZZZZTTT scale, etc, etc. The yellow air around him turned back to normal and his image above the table disappeared. The introductions continued. George took note that his opponent's name was Kraknurr and that he was twelve feet tall and weighed in at thirteen hundred and twenty eight pounds (per the BZZZZZT gravitational conversion method). No surprise there. The music ceased. George didn't feel very well. The adrenaline was pumping and he needed to be moving. At the table he could at least be doing something he understood!

George Brunski had always felt himself capable of a major contribution. Now that the ultimate, mind-boggling chance had come, he didn't want to fail his little section of the multiverse, his planet or himself.
"Contestants! Move to positions and begin on the signal!"
Brunski and Kraknurr advanced to the table and retrieved their paddles. The bubble appeared and moved to George's side. As the non-member, he would serve first. The sounds of the invisible spectators rose again as George palmed his paddle in his right hand and prepared to serve. "Gentlebeings of the Hub! It's time for Alien Antics!"
"Contestants - Begin!"

The representative of the Human race served at medium velocity with no spin. Kraknurr the rhinopede whipped it's paddle into the ball with a right to left motion, spinning it back over the net. George was caught off guard and misjudged his counter spin - his return flew off the table at a wild angle and was snared by a floating bubble. George glanced quickly at his opponent, then away. So much for the courteous warm-up, He was angry at himself for the fear and aversion he felt when he looked at the alien - there was no time for it! He had to watch this creature and try to react to it's moves.

George chop-served with a downward spin and watched closely as Kraknurr's paddle flowed to an uppermost arm as it leaned over the table, countering his close-in serve with what seemed like very little effort - but this left the rhino in an awkward position over the table. George slammed the ball to the far corner, knowing that the creature couldn't possibly get back for the return - and watched as it's paddle blurred down to the extension nearest the edge of the table and slammed the ball back with a sharp upward swing.

George scrambled way back and watched as the ball barely hit his edge and shot toward him at high speed. He swung his arm in a wide arc, slicing overhand. The ball cleared the net and just caught his opponents edge, shooting off at an impossible angle and hitting the floor just before Kraknurr did. It had made a dive for the ball - and missed. George jumped up and returned to the floor with a soft thump. He had scored his first point!
And so it went, slam and parry. George forced himself to watch the revolting creature and focus on it's game. He desperately tried to avoid the distraction of the strange creatures in the booth. Whenever he allowed his mind to debate the meaning of all this, he almost went over the edge. The score was tied at eighteen when the accident occurred. George hit one hard, high and out of bounds, but Kraknurr's paddle didn't quite make the block. The ball smacked into the surface of it's eye and remained there, apparently imbedded.

Kraknurr roared and backed up, dropping it's paddle and sitting down on it's rump. A greenish fluid built up around the injury and began to run toward the bottom of the eye. Kraknurr tried to close it's lid, but couldn't. The creature eased over onto it's side and lay trembling, as if paralyzed. The audience went silent. George was shocked. He had several thoughts in sequence, each countered by his other mental voice which always said - RUN! His first thought was that a ping-pong ball is very light, it couldn't possibly do any damage. Followed by the excited thought that this might increase his chances by deflating the alien a bit. Followed by fear of repercussions as he looked up at the strange beings in the booth - they all quietly retuned his gaze from various sensory organs. Followed by confusion, as time was passing and no one was moving towards the felled creature and it seemed to be in great pain. Followed by...

George began moving around the table toward Kraknurr. He moved at a steady pace, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to flee, ignoring the now subdued mumbling of the crowd and trying his best to ignore Kraknurr's thrashing extensions. George approached cautiously and looked into Kraknurr's eye. He then knelt down, reached between the appendages and removed the ball. It came free with a gentle sucking sound. Kraknurr immediately sat up and blinked the eye several times, the greenish tinge fading. The crowd roared, clicked and buzzed. The orange globes, which had been hovering directly above George's head now returned to their positions. Kraknurr regained his feet and picked up his paddle, blinking his eye repeatedly. George was standing still, staring at the ball in his hand. He finally snapped out of his trance and walked back to his side of the table.

George Brunski, human from the planet earth of whatever multiverse, served at reasonable speed with no spin and cleanly missed the quick return. That made the score twenty to eighteen in the alien's favor. George took a deep breath as he looked at Kraknurr and the rest of the visible Hubworlders. He felt calm. He quickly leaned in and served softly, the ball falling just on the other side of the net. His opponent jumped forward and just got his paddle under the ball which flew almost straight up. It cut the invisible plane of the net and George waited. He waited. There was only one way to return it. The ball came within reach and he slammed it downward and watched it catch on the top lip of the net and fall - on his side. The game was over - George had lost.

The crowd twittered and thrummed. The globes twirled around Kraknurr's head. George backed away from the table, feeling numb. The creatures from the booth now came onto the floor and congratulated Kraknurr. Several of them congratulated George on a solid effort. Aliens from many worlds! He couldn't believe that in the midst of all this, he'd been playing a stupid game of ping-pong ! A stupid game that could effect the future of mankind.

The winners were announced. Their likenesses and the statistics on each game hung in the air in the center of the chamber. The prizes were re-stated by the announcer with much hoopla. George watched quietly until it was all over.
"Join us next cycle for another beaming of ALIEN ANTICS!" cried the excited announcer.

The yellow light around the table returned to normal. The rods disappeared into the floor. George was about to walk to the door when he noticed Kraknurr approaching him across the almost deserted floor. George waited. The alien stopped in front of him. The eye looked much better now. Almost...normal? On impulse George extended his hand, noting with some pride that his inner voice was finally quiet. Kraknurr whistled and George thought the creature's lips moved upward in a sort of smile. It leaned over and thumped George's hand with three of it's smaller limbs in succession. It's large eye blinked once again, then the creature trotted off toward it's own exit.

One of the orange balls floated over and bounced gently against George's head twice, then settled in front of him. George was sure that he felt, rather than heard, a respectful farewell from the judge. George walked through the doorway and found himself back in his arrival room. Despite this defeat of major proportions, George felt a little better. Maybe it was Kraknurr's farewell or the feeling coming from the alien judge. Maybe it was pride in being here and just managing to finish. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't run when the other aliens had come down to the floor. George felt he was now at least kind of part of a larger multi-galactic civilization even though he hadn't won the prize.

Betty grew from a small white dot to a full three dimensional image. She handed him a cup and he drank the solution as per the rules.
"Congratulations, Mister Brunski," said Betty.
George shook his head ruefully. "Call me George. I lost for myself and for my planet," he said with finality.
Betty looked at him closely, kindness in her eyes.
"It isn't always whether or not you win, George." George shrugged.
"I'll remember all of this?" asked the Human, looking around him.
"Yes," answered the image, "but be careful how you handle those memories and remember the contest rules you agreed to. You cannot tell anyone anything regarding your visit, the game or anyone you met. The consolation prize is yours and you may do with it as you please, but no one can know where it came from. Have a pleasant journey home, George."

As Betty faded George noticed movement to his left. The air in the room rippled and he could not move. Three small gray creatures began to touch his face...his arms. Huge black eyes looked deeply into his own. George noticed that he wasn't nauseous nor did he feel an electric shock. Maybe this trip won't be so bad, he thought, as he rose through the ceiling and lost consciousness.
* * *


George awoke in his bed and looked around. Gene Rayburn was just completing the same question he'd been feeding the panel when George went inter-dimensional. Charles Nelson Reilly now poked Brett Somers and asked how Jack was these days and received the expected audience response. No time had passed at all. George knew he had not been dreaming. He knew where he'd been and he also knew it had been more than just a game - at least to him. He looked at the plain brown box which sat on his bedside table. It had his name on it in English and directly below the formal print was the symbol he'd worn during the game.

George was filled with the excitement of a child as he opened the box. He couldn't help it. Yes, he'd lost his ping-pong game – but he couldn't go on feeling guilty about it. Maybe someone else would have done better, maybe not. Meanwhile, he was damn curious about his consolation prize. After all, it was from the center of the Galaxy in another dimension - and he'd been there! George lifted the first item out of the box.

There was a pamphlet attached to the cover of the small case. George read the cover. His jaw dropped. He tried to control a sudden burning in his nose and wetness in his eyes. He gently placed the case on the bed and sat staring at the wall for some time. He then proceeded to dance a little jig around the room. Warm ripples ran up his spine as he removed the second item from the box. It was a fancy certificate on parchment paper. He read it and laughed aloud, looking up at the ceiling. "Alright Kraknurr, you thousand-legger - Anytime!"

The certificate boldly proclaimed:
George Brunski or a direct descendant thereof is cordially invited to return to ALIEN ANTICS on a future cycle beamdate. Contestant will be contacted


George was thoughtful for a long time, then picked up the phone to call Willy Putnam, his new - and soon to be famous - team leader. On the bed lay the small case. The cover of the pamphlet read:
The enclosed preparation is one hundred percent effective in removing all forms of Carcinoma in the species Homo Sapiens. There are no side-effects. Details on the chemical composition are enclosed. Use and reproduce according to instructions and in accordance with your contest agreement


George spoke calmly into the phone, relaying a breakthrough discovery he'd had while doing some work in the lab on his own. Match Game went to commercial.