Chapter Four: First Contact

Dubois led the delegation from the United Nations Building toward the alien ship, followed by his vice president and a small army of aides, including Toby and Lara. His heart raced; this was his chance for a historic photo-op that could lock up the election. First contact with an alien race, and it came on his watch! How convenient, he thought, as he made a few last minute adjustments to the welcoming speech displayed on his TC.

They passed The Twisted Gun, the symbol of world government. Designed by Swedish artist Carl Fredrik Reutersward, and originally titled Non-Violence, it was a giant bronze revolver on a pedestal. The barrel of the gun was twisted like a pretzel, causing the tip to point up into the sky rather than in the direction in which the gun aimed. The world flag was a picture of The Twisted Gun on a green field, surrounded by 165 stars—one for every country on Earth with a population over one million—plus the grandfathered Antarctica—which qualified them for membership in the world government.

They passed the media groups that circled the alien ship, each clambering for the best spot. News anchors talked at TC finger cameras as the world watched. No doubt many billions of voters were watching.

Dubois stopped ten feet short of the ship, and stood with his legs spread, chest thrust out, his ever-present red power tie flapping in the breeze. Toby and the rest of the entourage gathered behind him. The ship, a big black sphere, floated in the air, featureless except for what looked like mustard dripping down one side. A veggie dog and bun lay on the ground below. Dubois smiled at the welcome the ship had received.

A minute went by. “Do I look silly just standing here?” Dubois whispered, keeping his confident smile for the cameras.

“You look fine,” Lara whispered back. “Like a wall, guarding Earth.”

“Right, we’ll call him Stonewall Dubois,” Toby whispered back.

He thinks I’m an idiot, Dubois thought. Well, that couldn’t be helped. When you act dumb, you get the best advice. Act smart, and everyone’s afraid to speak up. Toby probably thought Dubois spent his spare time reading comics, and had no clue that he knew that the famous General Jackson had supposedly gotten the Stonewall nickname as an insult for not coming to the aid of troops under fire. As usual, he’d pretend he didn’t get the insult.

It was obvious to him that Toby was a damn liberal. How could the man be so smart and so stupid? To face the world’s problems, you needed strength, not short-sighted feel-goodedness. Even the French were sick of being the pansies of the world and looked to him and his tough cowboy ways to lead them. But for now, it was best to play dumb.

“I like that, ‘Stonewall Dubois,’ protecting mankind from invasion,” Dubois said, smirking on the inside. “Plug it, Rajan,” he added when the vice president began to speak. Long ago he’d grown tired of dealing with his griping number two. Putting Persson in his place brought a bit of joy to his busy life, knowing that the Indian Swede’s ambitions would keep him from responding.

The outline of a door appeared on the side of the ship. It lowered like a drawbridge. As it dropped, a dark outline appeared in the entrance.

The figure walked down the drawbridge door and into the bright sunshine. The alien, green and hairless, stood about four feet tall, shaped like an upright torpedo. It stood on four legs that stuck out from under the torpedo bottom, two in front, two in back. The feet were only a few inches long, each covered with a sock-like shoe. It wore a yellow vest with pockets, and a red handkerchief on the lower portion of its face, where a mouth might be. Two short and delicate-looking arms—four in all—stuck out from each side of a large, neckless head. The ten-fingered hands looked like sea anemones. Two eyestalks waved slowly side to side from just above each pair of arms, moving independently of each other as they examined the crowd.

Dubois approached the alien and read from the TC teleprompter. “On behalf of Earth and all its residents, I welcome you in peace to our planet.”

The alien’s eyestalks focused on the president. The handkerchief moved, as if a large mouth underneath had opened.

“If you welcome me in peace to your planet, why do you have weapons aimed at me?” were the historic first alien words on Earth.

Dubois looked about, and for the first time noticed all the weaponry. He was used to traveling with security, and rarely noticed it, but this was a bit over the top.

“Put down your weapons!” he ordered in his most commanding tone, knowing half the planet would be tuned in by now. He reminded himself to speak slowly and clearly; he was speaking for posterity and the upcoming election.

He turned back to the alien. “I apologize for this misunderstanding. I am Corbin Dubois, president of this planet, which we call Earth.”

“You are…Corbin Dubois?” the alien asked, pronouncing the words slowly. “I do not recognize that in your numbering system.”

“It is not a number,” Dubois said, “it is my name. You may call me President Dubois.”

The alien’s eyestalks glanced at each other in almost comical fashion, then refocused on Dubois. “You use random sounds as names. An interesting but confusing system.” The two eyestalks splayed out, looking over the crowd. “Do all humans have unique sounds for names?”

“Yes,” Dubois said. “What is your name and your purpose here?”

One of the alien eyestalks pointed back at him, while the other continued to observe the crowd. “Translated into your numbering system, I am 55,257,461,522,” it said. “You may call me Twenty-two. I am—” It stopped and shook from side to side for a moment. “I am Ambassador Twenty-two, a grod from the planet Grodan. It circles the star you call Tau Ceti. I am here to observe your…civilization.”

“How does it know English?” Toby whispered to Dubois.

“How do you know English?” Dubois repeated.

“I learned this afternoon,” Twenty-two said. Dubois started to say something, but shut his mouth as he realized what the alien had said. There were gasps from the crowd.

“Your speech,” Toby whispered to Dubois.

Dubois had forgotten about the speech. It still hung in front of him, seemingly in mid-air, care of his TC. He began again. “On behalf of Earth and all its residents, I welcome you in peace to our planet.”

“You said that already,” Twenty-two said. “You are the leader of this planet?”

“Yes, and—”

“I would like to discuss politics with you. I am a student…I was a student of government. I would like to study yours. I would like to learn from you.”

Imagine, Dubois thought, an alien landing practically on his doorstep, and in front of the world, asking him to teach it! Or was that him or her? He had no idea. He’d find out later. Meanwhile, he had to get the alien where he could control access. No chance he’d let Ajala or the other liberals talk to it. Forget the speech; he already had his sound bite. Time to take control of the situation.

“I would very much like to teach you how our political system works,” he said. “If you will follow me, I’ll take you to my office, where we can talk.” He turned to the press. “People of the world, this is a great moment, a time to put aside our differences. Humans and Grogs—”

“Grods!” Toby hissed at him.

“—have much to learn from each other. I declare this the beginning of the golden age of humans and Grods.” He glanced at Toby, then turned to Twenty-two. “As a gesture of friendship, please accept this presidential pen as a welcoming gift.” He handed the alien one of the thick pens they gave out as souvenirs to heads of state. Dubois thought the gift somewhat cheap, but the best they could do on short notice. The alien took the pen in two of its hands and examined it before putting it in one of the pockets of its vest.

He motioned toward the United Nations Building. “This way, Ambassador.”

“I would like to do a sensor reading,” Twenty-two said. It reached into one of its pockets and pulled out an object about the size of a handgun. With its eyestalks scanning the crowd, it pointed the object at Dubois.

Security reacted instantly, pouring an inferno of bullets and energy weapons at the alien, whose body disappeared in billowing smoke.

Agents pulled the president to the ground and buried him with their bodies. Turmoil erupted as people screamed and dove for cover.