

WICKED MESSENGER

by

### Edward Drobinski

Copyright © 2013 by Edward M. Drobinski

All rights reserved

### Chapter 1

FROM ELI TO ESPERANZA, ARIZONA, 5-10-2058

Shooting, soaring, silently screaming onward with the strength of seven zillion contentious clarifications, the little red ship passed through galaxies in less than the blink of an eye. It was a marvel of engineering brilliance and a testament to the bravery and ability of its pilot. Impressive, daring and essential as it was, in the overall scheme of things, it was just another dot in the vast cosmos; albeit a speedy one.

A moment after takeoff, in the Eli Mission Control tower a panicked Assistant Understudy Flight Navigator Alan Gotteschalk shouted; "The instrument panel isn't working!"

Chief Matthew Forsythe replied; "Not at all. The gadgets just can't keep up."

"He's out of sight and un-traceable already! The instruments have lost him!"

"Let's just hope he makes it. Our lives depend on it."

The scientists removed their headgear and leaned back on their chairs.

LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK.

He was moving too fast to detect any images. The rocket's speed left well-seasoned meth, crack and amphetamine mixing addicts at the gate. All he saw was the temporary light of different suns and the temporary darkness as he outran their brilliance, only to immediately encounter the illumination of another. He wondered if he was truly in control or if he was at the mercy of the state-of the-art, computer assisted rocket. The words "computer-managed" came to mind, but he resisted the implication of helplessness. He briefly entertained the notion that by travelling so much faster than the speed of light, that he might be going back in time. Or forward. The fleeting thoughts passed in the insignificant space of a few LIGHT-DARK's, as it really didn't matter to him.

He felt a piercing head pain and saw only DARK. When his eyes again saw the LIGHT, he checked the instrument panel to see that five seconds had elapsed and saw that the ship had come to a halt.

He exited the craft, pushed a series of buttons on his controller and grew back to full size. He immediately pocketed the rocket, before he could possibly forget its location. He looked in all directions and was perplexed to see two hoboes approaching from the west. They appeared as if they had been outside for years; shabby clothes, unshaven and skinny with baked-on grime. He thought; "Oh, ****."

One grinned widely and called out; "Hey, man. How'd you do that trick?" The two cackled as if they were watching "The Tonight Show."

"What trick?"

The duos funny bones were again tickled. The first one showed both of his teeth and approached with his companion right behind, holding a hunting knife. Two Teeth said; "Hey, Lem. We got a dumb ass space man." He turned to the "spaceman" and followed with; "Look, stupid; we saw you come out of that rocket, grow to normal size and then put the thing in your pocket."

"You guys are making a mistake."

Two Teeth and Lem were amused. Almost Toothless said; "Yeah, we made plenty of them. That's how we got here. What's your excuse?"

"Back off."

Two Teeth said; "Whoooo. We got a bad mother over here. ....... Gimme that UFO." He reached for the spaceman's pocket and Lem held his knife at chest level.

The spaceman broke away and calmly said; "Okay, I've had enough of this ****." He retrieved his "silver bullet" from his pocket, pushed a button and the two hoboes were vaporized, leaving no trace of their predatory existence. He thought; "I did them a favor. They are now out of their misery."

For a second time he looked in all directions and could not see any people; only sand and cactus. Though it wasn't a primary concern, this pleased him as he didn't want to have to zap an innocent bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time; at least not so early in the mission. Though he was no believer in luck; portents-of-things-to-come or trends were another matter.

After a laborious half mile of walking toward the late day sun he came across an extremely weathered sign hammered into the desert floor. It had an arrow and the word "Esperanza" painted on it in aged green, the color now exceedingly light and near extinction. It appeared as if it were in recent times that someone added the word "NO" preceding "Esperanza" in running, thick black paint, its texture a sign of expected longevity. He was mildly amused with the simple graffiti-esque desecration and followed the arrow.

Perspiration poured from him as the relentless sun had no obstructions in the stark treeless land. His light blue shirt and pants were working their way toward dark blue and he thought of water. It seemed to him that a boundless supply of infinitesimal particles lay between him and his destination. One in a million sparkled in the late day sun. There was organ pipe and prickly pear cactus to his left, giant saguaro and treacherous cholla to his right. With considerable effort he walked through the loose white sand of the Sonoran desert. Dead ahead was shimmying heat rising from the floor, distorting all images into mirages of what one wanted to see; from dancing girls to stacks of greenbacks; nature's own Rorschach test. But he saw no sign of the promised Esperanza. This Arizona tiny hamlet was chosen by him because of its seclusion and the expected attendant lack of resident sophistication. He could view Earthling traits, as unadulterated as possible. His first experience confirmed expectations.

With each step his left foot slid to the far left and his right to the far right, swaying his center uncontrollably and leaving him thinking that he might be in danger of splitting in two. Overhead was cloud free baby blue, which didn't give any hint of offering any stabilizing precipitation; just more of the hundred-and-ten-degree-and-climbing heat.

His right leg totally slipped and some natural instinct allowed him to avoid becoming a wish bone. He fell face first. His reaction wasn't one of thanks for preserving his carcass in one piece. He was exasperated. He gritted his teeth, wiped the sand and sweat from his face and thought; "Where is this damn town?" He was accustomed to walking on sand back home, but was unpleasantly surprised at its depth and porosity on Earth.

His self-image was always that of a man possessed by a well-ordered disposition. He prided himself on that and was certain that was what enabled him to attain the position he held with its attendant "toys." Of course his six foot four, two hundred and ten pound torso didn't serve him poorly in any meeting rooms. But, he never considered that a factor himself. He was convinced that his "success" was a function of his logical, well thought out approach and an occasional touch of genius, though he kept the latter thought to himself.

He thought; "But, look at me now. I'm dirty, sweating and may be headed in the wrong direction. I wish I could just go home. .................. Wherever that now is."

He decided to slow down, hoping that his desire to get off to a fast start wasn't getting the better of him this time. His slides in both directions lessened and he tried to convince himself that he would get there eventually, as towns don't pick up and move. Besides, though he was not officially advised of this, he suspected he probably had a few years to complete his work.

He felt the same pain in his head that he experienced on ship and fell to his knees. He cupped his hands over his ears, trying to stifle the roar only he heard, and again went face first into the sand. When he got to his feet, his mind was blank, but he knew that he had to keep trudging toward the sun.

A RADICALLY CONDENSED VERSION OF ELI'S LAST THREE CENTURIES

The "spaceman's" home of Eli would not astound an Earthling in its appearance. There were skyscraper cities, parasitic sprawling suburbs, small towns, mountains, valleys, oceans and rivers. It was only about one-tenth the size of Earth with a population of thirty million, some black, some white and some gradations in between. Segregation was virtually one hundred percent, but not for the first reason an Earthling would suspect.

The strangest things about Eli were those which cannot be gleaned with the naked eye. They possessed a cadre of laser doom machines, in varying sizes; all called a "silver bullet." They are in the hands of the few and have never been seen by the majority. The people are imbedded with chips operated by a controller, which in most cases, intentionally, have less capability than the chipped think, being perennially set on "neutral." Scientists claim that Eli is not perfectly circular due to an unexplained elongation of the North Pole. When the planet had such capability, some joked that it "spun like a top." However, it became more of a lemon still life.

After the "Great Catastrophe," in political correctness called "The Rotation Deficit Disorder (RDD)," happened in 98165 Eli slowly split into only two significant factions, called Sunny and Darkie. The RDD was likely caused by a massive nuclear explosion in the Northern woodland. Of course no one admitted responsibility, but everyone knew that this was the work of the overly competitive but low IQ Elis, who lived in the "frost belt." In some sense this simplified, some might say improved, the previous political situation. Up until the big blast Eli was comprised of a confusing, spider webs' morass of countless conflicting interests overlapping at various points. "Secret societies," "secret" only to the beneficiaries of their power, performed duplicitous sabotage, lending confusion to all aspects of law, business and government. But, then as a result of the planet being knocked off its axis and in a state of total stability, the interests of only the "Sunnies" and the "Darkies" survived.

The "Sunnies" were those left in perpetual sunshine due to the planet's RDD. It continued to revolve around the sun, but like the Earth's moon it only showed one of its sides to the light. The vast majority of "Sunnies" liked the resultant circumstances and referred to the new state of affairs as "Equilibrium." While their situation was the preferable lot, the incessant brutal sun could be devastating after a month long incandescence. On cloudy days offices let out early and the beleaguered "Sunnies" held parties celebrating their ability to be outdoors without being scorched. Their circumstances were economically enhanced by being the supplier of energy. After the nuclear disaster, the use of nuclear reactors was outlawed. Fossil fuels were long ago depleted, so the sun became the only known source of power.

The "Darkies" lived on the obverse side of the stagnant sphere and never used the word "Equilibrium" for their situation, preferring "Stasis." Their economic standing would have been improved with any sense of "equilibrium," as their personal movement was in one direction; down. They couldn't grow anything without spending fortunes on artificial lighting and had to "import" increasingly expensive energy from the "Sunny" regions. As a consequence of the constant need for heat in their homes and businesses, the people were drained, slowly but consistently.

The rich migrated to the border lands, spending time in each region, displacing those "natives" of lesser circumstances. The process became known as "bi-polar gentrification."

An Earthling might be amused, confused or incensed at the political incorrectness of the names taken by or given to the groups. After hundreds of years in the black or white and nothing in between regions the "Darkies" became entirely light skinned, some to the point of visible blue veins and the "Sunnies" were somewhere between olive and black as a result of the incessant sun.

In the hope of attaining power countries merged following the line of demarcation drawn by the sun. "Sunny" areas became centers of technology, business and higher education, as investors considered the cheery areas more stable and energy independent. The people tended to be managers, technicians and entrepreneurs. One could simply say; "White collar and high income." The Sunny capital city became "Acceptance." The "Darkie" land hosted the toxin belching factories because the land was much cheaper and for the most part, the people became laborers in them. So, the merging "Darkie" power plays resulted in no economic advantage, only a removal of the relative differences between the surviving two nations. The "Darkie" capital city became "Repudiation."

During the first hundred years of the "Equilibrium-Stasis" there was considerable unrest in "Darkie" territories as some considered it "Elane" (Eli for humane) to lower energy prices. The richer "Sunny" states' officials, overflowing with solar energy, found it efficient to patiently and politely listen to the impassioned speeches, which sometimes led to new people being elected Darkie Ministers, and then buying them off. The process got simpler and simpler as the states merged. Eventually, with only one "Sunny" state and one "Darkie" state, "Sunny" funds were given to the "Darkie" Prime Minister, who would then re-direct them where necessary.

The realignment also had an unexpected mental effect on the people. While they were previously an emotional species; loving and fighting over issues of morality, the clear distinction of only two significant groups, essentially the "haves" and the "have-nots," prompted them to clearly and rationally see that the previously argued divisions of sex, race, geography, politics and religion were merely wastes of time, perpetrated by those who had an opportunity to capitalize on the conflict. Consequently, the only criterion used to measure the "will of the people" was "who gains and who loses" from the item under consideration. They became logically unemotional and unloving, but they achieved a total peace and an end to all conflict; the stated long term goal of all except the military and "defense" contractors. In a zero sum game there is always someone who loses and Elis in both regions were satisfied with the scapegoats.

When any kind of economic complaint arose, almost always emanating from a "Darkie," some "Sunny" spokesman would re-utter the phrase; "Vote with your feet." This "wisdom" was first stated by a jovial, proud-to-display-early Alzheimer's, "Sunny" head of state, 50 years into the "Equilibrium-Stasis." Pedestrian progression became an often used vehicle for "Darkies" to escape their economic fate. However this slowed to a virtual halt when "Darkies" saw that their albino-like skin color made them objects of derision in the joyfully dark, "Sunny" world. It impacted them economically and resulted in many wanting to stay with their own in their inherited, murky ghetto. This cultural phenomenon virtually ensured that any "Darkie" who voted with his feet would be alone; away from their family and not wanted by the fashionably tanned. The light-skinned "Darkies" also found that after being in the bleak night for so long they could no longer tolerate the burning sun, which resulted in the proliferation of skin cancers, often melanoma. Even if they wandered outside fully covered and "protected" they didn't feel comfortable with the cheery "Sunnies," possibly a partial misperception fostered by the way "Sunnies" squinted and contorted their faces in the blinding light.

Since any kind of love (a term Eli's found impossible to define) was out of the question, those who wished to mate or marry used only money or sexual attraction as their means of participation in the game. "Sunny" plastic surgeons proliferated and everyone appeared young. Many desired a competitive advantage, and took that in the form of enhanced breasts, derrieres or penises. Of course they wore clothes, but some things just stuck out.

Ineffectual "radical" groups survived at a steadily declining rate. Migrating "Darkies" found that while one of their objectives was to bring "Sunny" attention to their plight, their results were akin to preaching to a diminishing choir. The few "Liberal Sunnies" who went into the "Dark" territories were there viewed as either well-meaning, useless idiots, spies, or ones into "slumming." Duration of stay tended to be short and declined with each passing generation.

Fifty years ago psychiatrists and psychologists stopped using their prescription medications; generally anti-depressants for adults and anti-attention deficit disorder (AADD) for the kids. They knew of the ineffectuality of the pills which they had been over-prescribing for decades of easy income. Under pressure from the reigning bodies and technicians attendant thereto, they found another lucrative "solution." The public announcement officially said; "While there is no credible evidence that any harm was caused by the medications, (which they had to say because of the volume of lawsuits) we now find that it is more effective, both on a clinical and cost basis, to have everyone receive an implanted, controlling chip. This predictable, efficient device is capable of stimulating mass accord by rendering null troublesome and irrelevant sections of the impulsive and unstable brain. Used properly (a caveat included just in case) we can look forward to a world of peace and stability, resulting in steady economic progress. We know that some will object. To those we say consider this. Our most loved animals have been implanted with chips for twenty years. Can anyone say they are worse off for it?"

The "Sunny" and "Darkie" governments mandated the mass implantation a week after those in the know purchased shares of the patent holding company. "Improvements" and "Supplemental Features" have been added to the products regularly. Different chips and controllers were given to different people, based on the government's definition of need, tempered by the implantee's political importance, executed by the psychiatric industry. The masses were permanently set on "neutral," though they were unaware of that. Supplementation to the controllers was effected by military special kill squads, officially termed the Peace Corps, whose mission it was to enforce the peace by blowing away anyone who seemed likely to cause a problem. Their actions were legally "top secret" and the "Peacekeepers" were greatly feared, as with no corpse the people could never show credible evidence of their deeds, or their existence, for that matter. In some very small and tight circles several uninformed critics said that some "missions" had nothing to do with keeping the order and were personally based.

Today, Eli society is termed post-modern, post-industrial, post-post-modern and so post-everything that they comport themselves as if they believe that they have seen everything and feign boredom to the point of almost total inaction. A simple characterization suggests an overview of a society merely and unimaginatively having "gone postal." The people do make an overt, conscious effort in one regard; and that is not to be typed beyond their readily discernible "Sunny" or "Darkie" status. Eclecticism or "Neither Here Nor There (NHNT)" is the most fashionable style. Resistance to this, either purposely or in ignorance, results in the offender being termed "Retro," or hopelessly-lost-in-the-past (no acronym.) The faux pas brings laughter and ostracism for Elis, the latter a fate sought by some subverts. A small, radical contingent of social observers who almost make a living writing for a high distribution literary monthly, which relishes playing on the avant-garde edges, have coined the term "Identity Disassociative Disorder (IDD or simplified to ID) as a counter-cultural psychological viewpoint, essentially by nefariously tagging the phenomenon with the term "disorder.". It serves to provide light humor at fashionable, would-be-hip cocktail parties.

As the unkind forces of the universe would have it, just a few short decades after almost finding an acceptable way of living in peace and numbness with the "RDD," an impending "Second," and even more significant disorder was announced, causing a coarse change in parlance for the "Rotation Deficit Disorder" to the "First Great Catastrophe," and rendering three hundred some odd years of commotion over it irrelevant.

ACCEPTANCE, ELI, 5-8-98476, 5-8-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

A few days prior to walking and tasting the Arizona Sonoran Desert, thirty-five year old, "Sunny," Joshua Foucalt relaxed on his efficient, simple, metal framed, black couch with Vicky, his prior year's acquisition taken on a trial basis. She sat motionlessly naked with her mouth and other significant orifices wide open and ready for instruction. Her breasts were measured at fifty inches making her top-heavy to the point of having some difficulty walking with her five foot four, one hundred pound body perched on tiny feet. But walking was not what she was made for.

The television news played as he sipped at his vodka-vigro cocktail; the popular VV of the strip bars and similar to a mixture of Earth's booze with a penis enabling drug. He thought that liquor and science were an unbeatable combination as Vicky looked better and better with every sip. The robotic female announcer stared at the monitor as the cards from which she read were behind it. With no inflection, other than an occasional squint at a misspelled word or one not in her vocabulary she said; "Scientists at the EGD (Eli Galactic Department) today announced." She fluttered her eyes and said; "Shouldn't that be 'announced today.' .................... Well, anyway. Today announced, claiming one hundred percent certainty that the sun will burn out in ten years, creating a black hole which will suck in the entire planet. Elis are expected to succumb to dismemberment of all tissue. ................ Come on, guys. That has to be dismemberment of limbs. You can't dismember tissue. This is really getting annoying. You're trying to make me look stupid, but I'll have you know ................. Never mind. This is between me and the producer. Jeez. From Metropolis, Carcass Companions rose six points after they announced that their first quarter earnings rose forty-seven percent, excluding extraordinary transactions versus the same period last year ...................."

Joshua came close to a feeling, while Vicky remained impassive, but ready. He thought rationally; "They could be wrong, but they say one hundred percent certainty. Hmnnn. Ten years. Probably could be a little more or a little less. Maybe the writers are playing with the stupid announcer. Maybe this is some subversive's idea of a joke. I'll have to make a call. In the meantime logic suggests that I get off as many times as possible."

He put his hand behind Ready Vicky's neck and said; "You know how much respect I have for you, right?" He didn't wait for a reply as he pushed her open mouth onto his lap and guided her compliant head up and down.

Coming to no spurious conclusions, he thanked her in his usual halfhearted manner for the job performed. He went to the phone to call his boss; Cronos Titanby, often referred to as "The Law," Galaxy Director. The nickname is avoided in the presence of the President and other Department Ministers. While his knowledge of the galaxy had holes the size of a black one, he was secure in his position as the general public had bigger ones and the consortium of politicians who appointed him were happy that they got no flak because of his other worldly operation. Joshua pushed the required buttons, a lengthy process because of "The Law's" penchant for privacy and the frequency of unwanted calls received from information seeking buzzards from the news services. They considered him a "friend" because he had the manners and discipline to act cordially.

Before he finished the twenty button rendition, he heard a knock at the door, and said; "Yeah," in as discouraging a way as he could muster. Despite that, his next-door-apartment neighbor, the bachelor, Wilfred Cullen, walked in and having done that, unnecessarily announced his presence.

Joshua said; "Yeah, yeah. No kidding. Sit down and keep Vicky company. I've got to make this call."

Wilfred said; "She's got something all over her mouth."

"So, use one of the other two possibilities. Since when are you choosy?" Joshua turned away and muttered; "No creativity whatsoever."

Wilfred found the posterior portal to his liking and commenced activity singing a falsetto version of "Only You."

Joshua thought that was funny and balled up the numbers.

Ring, ring, ring. He heard; "Lance's Massage," from a voice that sounded as if it was enjoying the same thing Vicky was experiencing.

Joshua thought that Cronos was playing, in an attempt to get rid of an unwanted call. He said; "Hi, honey. I'm looking for some action."

"Well, umph, you called the right place, sweetie, umph. What kind of action?"

"Depends on prices, girl."

He, presumably so, clucked his lips audibly and said; "Twenty for a number one with full facial, fifteen without; twenty for a number ......"

Joshua cut him off thinking that if "The Law" wanted to avoid conversation he was defeating his own purpose and considered the possibility that he had dialed the wrong number. He said; "This really is Lance?"

"Of course it is baby. Are you playing games with me?"

"Perish the thought." Joshua hung up and watched Wilfred's hairy ass pump against a bent over Vicky. It was enough to put him off sex long term, no matter how many VV's he could consume over the next few days.

He turned away and slowly dialed the correct number. Ring, ring. "Proctologist office."

"Law?"

"Yeah, Joshua. I was just going to call you."

"About the end of the world?"

"No, about your overdue colonoscopy. What the hell do you think?"

"Then it's true?"

"Some leaking *********** is going to pay."

"No doubt he got paid already."

"Don't want to discuss it on a possibly bugged phone. Be in my office at 9AM tomorrow. You've got some work to do."

"****."

"Yeah, some people still give one. Beats the hell out of me." He hung up.

Joshua turned toward Wilfred and Vicky, who were still going at it. Now out of the mood for years, he said; "Hey, man. Why don't you get out of here and take her with you?"

Wilfred withdrew and turned toward Joshua as Vicky fell stiffly to the floor. Joshua put his hand over his eyes and feigned tiredness. Wilfred said; "I don't want her. I came to find out about the news report."

"You know as much as I do."

"You're supposed to be some kind of big shot in space."

"I never said that. Why don't you get lost and take Vicky with you."

"You sure you don't know anything?" He eyed Vicky lying on the floor.

"That's the thing I'm most certain of. Take her. Have a good time. There may be less than ten years left."

Wilfred shrugged.

Joshua said; "Come on. Take her. I'm getting another sex robot tomorrow anyway. This one's a Darkie and moves."

"Can I ......"

Joshua cut him off with a firm; "Hell no."

Wilfred took Vicky and left.

Joshua returned to the television and watched the currently number one show; "Plastic Surgery Disasters."

### Chapter 2

ACCEPTANCE, ELI, 5-9-98476, 5-9-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

In the morning Joshua was sitting in an overly fastidious, modern office, his controller set on neutral, engaged in conversation with his boss. He was comfortable after the usual morning shower, was drinking coffee and heard the hum of the central air conditioning. Its waves of cool air tingled his face and hands, his only exposed skin.

"The speed of light to the fifth power."

"The speed of light to the fifth power?"

Cronos Titanby, Galaxy Director of the Eli Galactic Department answered; "Yes. Pretty **** fast, isn't it?" as he casually checked his fingernails.

Joshua Foucalt, Senior Galactic Executive, widened his eyes in amazement and asked; "How'd you guys pull that off?"

"Easy. We told the brilliant Completions, the descendants of the flaky scientific geniuses that we captured during the last World War, that we would slowly and painfully torture them to death if they didn't come up with something pronto."

Joshua fondled the narrow lapels of his light blue, pin-striped suit and laughed heartily.

Pleased with himself, Cronos looked Joshua straight in the eye and seriously said; "So, now the ball is in your court. As our most accomplished flyer and overall get-it-done-guy, it is your job to get the rocket to Earth."

Though he had previously heard a few things of the blue planet, Joshua decided to appear somewhat ignorant and said; "Earth?"

Cronos grimaced and said; "Yes, Earth. You may not be aware of this. Our scientists never paid much attention to it previously. But, now that we can reach it, priorities have changed. It seems that it is the only accessible planet which can sustain Eli life."

Joshua said; "Aha," in an inquiring way.

"Problem is that it's full of beings, armed violent beings, which look like us and call themselves 'human.' No chip, though." Cronos sneeringly laughed and was joined by Joshua.

Joshua attempted to be sarcastic in saying; "Okay. I think I understand. You want me to fly this untested rocket at breakneck speed to Earth, announce that I am from the planet Eli, and inform the killers that thirty million more of us are on the way."

"No, no, no, no, no. That would either get you into a mental institution or a career as guest on public access television. We want you to go there un-noticed. Blend in with the 'humans' and find out everything you can about them. Then inform us of their weak points and most importantly, how we can most efficiently and 'humanely' eradicate them." He flashed the briefest of forced incisor grins.

"That sounds like a tall order. First I have to navigate a rocket with steroids coming out the kazoo at a speed never before done. Then I have to determine how to exterminate these 'humans.' If that was so easy, I suppose that they would have eliminated each other a long time ago."

"Point well taken, Joshua. However, I must remind you that our lives depend on it. If there were some other possibility ........."

"Establish a colony on unused land?"

"Do you really think they would allow that? Their economies depend on continual growth and in no time someone would try to get us under their wing. We've worked to attain peace for too long to lose it again. Besides, any unused land is somewhere no Eli, at least no "Sunny," would want to live, even though some of that is 'human' occupied."

"Tell them that out of necessity, we come in peace?"

"Joshua, for god's sake. You're sounding unpatriotic. You're one of the few people trusted with a personal "silver bullet". I wouldn't want to have to rethink my recommendation. If we merely tell them that we're coming, there is a good chance that they won't put out the welcome mat. Our position is better if unannounced, we launch a surprising attack and immediately get the upper hand."

"Please don't get me wrong. You're right. You're right. It's just as you say. We spent so long getting to peace that it is in my bones. My great-granddad died in the last conflict and I've grown up without having to see any."

Law questioned; "Great granddad?"

"Maybe great great."

"I understand. Peace was my hope too. It was probably the hope of every rational Eli. But, who would have expected that the sun would quit on us?"

Joshua looked at the floor and shook his head.

ACCEPTANCE, ELI, 5-10-98476. 5-10-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

2AM the following morning, under the bright but dying sun Joshua was escorted to the launch pad, where a red rocket, the size of Vicky's foot, sat. "The Law" wished him luck and they said their grimacing and respectful goodbyes.

Joshua shrugged and said; "I hope your Completions know what they're doing."

"They better. If the ship blows up they'll wish they hadn't been born." Law smiled without cracking his face, as it was a display of disdain.

Joshua reached into his pocket and retrieved his chip controller. He pushed a series of buttons, shrunk to an inch in size and entered the rocket.

ESPERANZA, ARIZONA, 5-10-2058

Joshua thought that he might be seeing a water tower on stilts in the near distance. Expecting that to be part of some town, he considered it wise to be able to give a good accounting of himself. He sat in the shade of a giant saguaro and went through his pockets. He found a bundle of cash and his wallet held a photo driver's license and credit cards issued to Harold Simpson of Glastonbury, Massachusetts. The picture looked like him. He also found a tiny plastic rocket ship. He decided to keep it, thinking that he might give it to some kid.

Simpson-Foucalt found the confusing chip controller and as most men would do, he stood up and proceeded to push all the buttons. He didn't notice that his mood swung from contented to morose and made several stops in between. The controller angered him in its perceived penchant to do nothing he could detect. He decided to throw it to the cholla, but in doing so inadvertently pushed another button and activated the right side of his brain, shutting the left. He then decided to keep it, just in case. He put it back in his blue jeans' pocket and pulled out a silver, tubular device with a button near the center, the size of a lipstick canister, currently unbeknownst to him called a "silver bullet." He pushed the button down and it emitted a ray which hit a giant saguaro, vaporizing it. He thought; "Cool," and pointed it at another giant. Again he pushed the button and again the cactus was vaporized, leaving no sign of its former existence.

While he enjoyed the activity, he found it very easy, like target practice. He looked around to see if he could find a moving object, when he heard; "Hey, cut that out. Those things are alive." He turned to see a little girl, in a yellow sundress, emerge from behind another saguaro. He inadvertently pointed his silver tube at her. She ducked back behind the cactus, causing her brown, long hair to fall over her face and said; "I should say WERE alive." When she saw that she was not going to be the next thing zapped, she peered at him and added; "You just can't kill things willy-nilly like that."

Harold felt embarrassed, pocketed his "silver bullet," and said; "I'm sorry. I got carried away. It surprised me."

Feeling a bit safer, the little girl stood straight, pushed back her hair and chastised him, saying; "Tell the giant saguaros that you're sorry for all the good it will do. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I am. I truly am." For some reason he truly was.

"Where did you get that thing?"

"It was in my pocket. Do you have one?"

"No, and nobody else around here has one either. Do you have any idea how long it takes saguaros to reach that size? And in an age of ecological responsibility. God."

"No, I don't know. But, I bet you're going to tell me."

"My grandpa told me over one hundred years. Keep that thing in your pocket and promise me that you won't use it again."

Harold was somewhat relieved, thinking that it was less evil to have merely vaporized something that had lived its years. He said; "I promise. I promise. I feel terrible. ............. And how old are you?"

"Ten ................. on June fifteenth."

Harold smiled at her apparent anxiousness to grow up. He extended his right hand and said; "I'm Harold Simpson and I'm ................................." He didn't know his age, so he retrieved his wallet and looked at the driver's license. "Thirty-five years old."

She warily shook his hand, saying; "I'm Becky Hawley."

Something flashed in his mind, but he found it indecipherable. He blinked.

She was compelled to add; "I know what you're thinking. What a stupid name. Becky Hawley sounds like someone doing baby talk. My real name is Rebecca, but nobody calls me that. My dad started calling me Becky a long time ago and it stuck. Rebecca Hawley sounds like a good name for a movie star. That's what I want to be when I grow up. Then I can get out of this gloomy sand dune and live in California with the stars. You know there are towns like Carmel, where everybody ........................ Sorry, I'm babbling. I'm trying to stop doing that. It's just that everything is so quiet here and I ................." She put her hand over her mouth, faintly giggled and said; "There I go again."

Harold wasn't completely sure of what she was saying and had particular difficulty with California, stars and Carmel. But he thought that she was extremely cute. He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees and said; "Well, I think Becky is a pretty name for a pretty girl." He took her hand and they walked toward town.

"Oh, it is not. At school the other kids call me Pecky and Wacky. You know Harold is a funny name too. I'm going to call you Harry. That's a little improvement."

"Then we're friends."

"Yeah, as long as you don't shoot any more cactuses."

"Promise."

Becky grinned and said; "If you see any rattlesnakes, it's all right with me."

"Rattlesnakes? How do I know one when I see one?"

"You're not from around here. Are 'ya? They rattle."

Harry felt cheerfully silly and said; "Tell me, what are you doing out here?"

"I was sitting on the water tower and saw you. Don't tell anybody. I'm not supposed to go up there."

"That will be our little secret. And you don't have to tell anybody about the cactuses. Right?"

Becky said; "Right," and then asked; "What are you doing out here?"

Harry shook his head slightly, clenched and released his free fist and said; "I don't know. I really don't."

Becky sensed a sadness or some kind of trouble within Harry. She wanted to sound encouraging and said; "Well, I guess you need a place to stay. You're in luck. My mom and dad own a boarding house and there are rooms available. Internet, Cable TV, bathroom and everything. ........................ Well, I mean my mom and dad don't really own it. Grandpa does, but he doesn't get around too well anymore. He mostly likes to sit on the porch and tell lies. Not really lies; exaggerated stories about what things were like when he was young. He says it was better then, but I think that's what all old people say. Anyway, mom and dad have to do all the work; and sometimes me. Like they always tell me to .................... I'm babbling again."

Harry said; "You are adorable. I'll bet you'll make a great actress someday." He reached into his pocket and said; "Here, I want to give you a present," and handed her the plastic rocket.

Becky properly said; "Oh, thank you," and tried to seem enthused. But, she thought; "Isn't this more of a present for a boy?" She put it in the pocket of her sundress and added; "I'll keep this with my china animals."

As the sun started to tease the horizon, they approached a gigantic, graying, two floor house on the outskirts of town. It had a sign over the porch, which said; "ROOMS."

She said; "Here we are."

"I don't suppose you get too many guests."

"We get our share. Migrant farm workers, mostly."

Harry didn't understand and said nothing.

Becky sensed that, but decided not to tell Harry everything about Arizona on the first day and succeeded in not babbling.

They climbed the two steps to the porch. She pushed open the wooden screen door and they went in.

Waiting at the improvised "counter" in the living room was Dad, AKA Charles Hawley. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and the portly man said; "Where have you been, Becky?"

She responded; "I've been walking in the desert with Harry."

Charles looked at Harry discerningly and said; "Out here to pick?"

Harry was at a loss, but decided to say something innocuous; "Checking things out."

As Harry's skin was an olive tone from a lifetime in the sun, Charles said: "Up from Mexico?"

Harry recalled what was written on his driver's license and said; "No, Glastonbury, Massachusetts."

Charles didn't show his surprise in saying; "I guess things are tough all over."

Harry said; "Sure are," and shook Charles hand.

Becky said; "He needs a room."

Charles said; "Baggage?"

Harry said; "None."

Charles said; "Car?"

Harry said; "No."

Charles asked; "How did you get here?"

Becky didn't want to hear Harry say "I don't know," thinking that it could lead to some sort of unpleasant fiasco and interjected; "Hitched."

Harry didn't know what that meant, but had come to trust Becky. He nodded a small "Yes." Charles looked at him strangely, but found his cash was impressive, and he gave him a room.

Becky went in with him, leaving the door wide open, and said; "You know how to use the internet?"

"No."

"Oh, it's great and it's easy. Let me show you. It tells you anything you want to know."

They took seats in front of the computer and Harry watched Becky navigate. He got excited as he saw that he might find out who he is. But he sobered and asked; "Who puts the information in here?"

"Anybody. Watch." She went to a website that maintained a list of the top 100 novels of all time. She picked number one; "The Great Gatsby," and typed in that it was slow, stupid and very redundant, its substance worthy of only a whiny short story.

Getting some ideas, Harry thought; "Oh," and said; "Did you really read it?"

"Yes and no. I started it. But, I disliked it so much I didn't finish it. Somebody just made a movie out of it for the three hundredth time. I guess they still think they're going to have a hit. You know the story?"

"No."

"I should have said; 'Do you know the non-story?' This rich guy loves some girl across the water, but she doesn't return the favor. While parties are going on, he pines out the window, looking across the water and thinking of her. God, there are other fish in the sea, man." She put two fingers down her throat and forced a gag.

"Isn't that a little calloused for a little girl?"

"Not really. I can understand feeling that way for a while. But, come on already. Jeez."

Something registered with Harry when he heard "feeling that way." It seemed to go way back and he didn't recall the specifics. He thought; "Feeling. Feeling. Feeling. Where? What?" He laughed, patted her head and said; "You convinced me."

Charles knocked gently on the door and entered. He said; "Come on, Becky. It's time for dinner. Would you like to join us, Harry?"

As Becky walked out, Harry stayed seated at the computer and said; "No. No thanks. I've got work to do. Thanks again, maybe I'll take you up on it tomorrow. Good night."

Dad shut the door as he and Becky left.

Harry immediately searched for "Harold Simpson of Glastonbury, Massachusetts." He was excited to see three websites saying that they had found him. His mood tempered when he learned that each of them automatically send that message and then ask you to re-input the information. He did discover that there were hundreds of Harold Simpsons in the US alone, but none resided in Glastonbury. They ranged in age from 18 to 91. Harry was desperate, and for forty bucks apiece, he saw that he could get further information about them, such as their home phone number, if listed, their e-mail address, their home address and arrest record. He considered obtaining the expensive, further information on those near his age. But, then he had a strange thought. What if he did get further information about Harold Simpson? How could he know that the information was about him? It would be better if he could find a relative who could identify him. He decided that he was more likely to find himself if he e-mailed all the people named Simpson, but that would get extremely time consuming. He then realized that if he could e-mail all the Simpsons that he was bound to get an abundance of replies saying that they knew him as there were so many Harold Simpsons. How about all the Simpsons in or near Glastonbury? He checked and there weren't any. He laughed and thought; "I'm the man who never was." What to do? .............................. Ask Becky tomorrow.

In the meantime, he reverted to instincts, and he thought the best thing to do was to try and relax. He found YouTube and listened to the New Riders of the Purple Sage.

After dinner Becky put her new rocket with her china animals and thought she detected a buzz, but dismissed it.

### Chapter 3

ELI, 5-12-98476. 5-12-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

Initially, both the "Sunny" and "Darkie" governments would neither confirm nor deny the TV report. They were able to establish a good case for the announcer's incompetence, however. Soon this gave rise to the popularity of "Prophets of Doom," some claiming religious status and a requirement for the people to repent. They claimed that Eli would end anywhere from tomorrow to ten years.

Many people took that as cause to do whatever they wanted. They set their controllers to "wild," not knowing that they were permanently on "neutral." However, thinking that they were wild produced a mental effect validating that. They let loose with years of repressed emotions all at once, and engaged in behaviors ranging from assaults (usually a neighbor,) to public sex acts (usually a stranger) and not paying their debts (usually a tightass.) A financial "crisis" ensued, which actually corresponded to two days of non-payment of consumer debts, including mortgages. The "Sunny" government gave trillions to banks and put out public service announcements anywhere they could, exhorting people to behave responsibly.

When the disorder did not abate, the authorities tried admitting their "solar" findings; government employed scientists stating that there was "at least ten years" before doom. "Experts" on the subject, ranging from religious fanatics to science technicians bogged down in detail, cashed in on the lucrative TV and radio markets, offering differing opinions. Some said that the whole thing was fallacious and not founded in any science and some stressed the "world without end" pious slogan. At the other extreme they affirmed the government's announced conclusion, but said that the final demise could be hundreds of years in the future.

The people gave as much credence to the "experts" as they customarily did and continued their mayhem, fornication and debt paying avoidance. The "Sunny" government felt it necessary to restore hope in the future and voiced the suitability of Earth and the plans underway. They publicly announced the "reality" of Foucalt's mission and how, if successful, ALL Eli's would find a new and better life on Earth. The "Darkie" government waited to see what was in it for them, before saying anything.

The aged "Darkies" who still believed what the "Sunny" government said or who were searching for hope calmed down and some even looked forward to a "better way of life" out of the dark despair. Many "Sunnies" also put their faith in the mission, playing some sort of psychological game with themselves, pretending the "feeling" for which they were incapable did not mask that they merely wanted to stay alive. The youthful and middle-aged majority of both factions believed what they wanted to, opted for the present, and continued to assault their annoying neighbors, perform public lewd acts and practice debt non-payment. They felt so exhilarated they wondered why they didn't do this all along. The overwhelmed Peace Corps concentrated on "property crimes."

ESPERANZA, ARIZONA, 5-13-2058.

Harry woke to a cool, breezy, pre-dawn morning, his open northern window taking the blaring brunt of the wind. He felt as clear headed as an amnesiac; dressed and elected to walk in the desert, hoping to find something that he may have dropped. Coffee was sitting in the kitchen and he poured himself a cup. As he sipped he looked out the window and saw an old man sitting on a simple weathered bench on the porch. It was now devoid of any evidence of having ever been stained, the back rail carved in "M" and "S" designs.

He thought that the man on the porch holding his own cup, dressed in loose blue jeans and a red and black checked flannel shirt was about seventy. The man was moving his neck around like a restless blind man, his thinning white hair an iconoclastic captive of the wind.

Harry went out the screen door and sat next to him.

The old man said; "Good morning," but continued to stare into the desert.

"Good morning. A windy one though."

"Days often start out this way, but soon calm down. Gotta love it."

Harry silently grinned briefly.

The old man said; "Nice thing about the place is that if you don't like the weather, just wait an hour and it will change."

"I'm new here. Just got in last night."

"Dress in layers. Sometimes the changes can be dramatic. One time I was about five miles from here." He pointed at the desert. "Hot, sunny day. All of a sudden storm clouds rolled in and it poured. I mean really came down in buckets. The ground couldn't absorb all that water quickly, so the next thing I knew I was in the middle of a rushing, two foot and rising river. Lucky for me I was near a mesquite tree, the only one I know out there. I climbed it. The water must have reached five feet. Then in ten minutes the rain stopped, the water disappeared and it was just as sunny as before. God **** tree saved my life."

"You've got to be Becky's Grandpa."

"She been talkin' about me?"

"Only good stuff. I'm Harry Simpson." He extended his right hand.

The old man leaned to the left to shake it and said; "I'm Lewis Dodgson, but everybody around here calls me Grandpa. That girl's got quite an imagination."

"I can see where she gets it from."

"What did she say about me?"

"She told me you tell great stories."

"True ones, mind you. Where are you from?"

"Glastonbury, Massachusetts."

"Never been there. What's it like?"

"I wish I could tell you."

The sun peeked out from behind the distant hills and the gale became a breeze.

Grandpa gave Harry a curious look, compelling Harry to add; "Haven't been there very long. I travel a lot. Must be nice to settle in one place like you."

"To each their own. The older I get the more I like it. But, when I was young I got around some. One time I was staying in San Francisco. Don't ask me why. I took a room in the Italian section, you know, where the "Beatniks" started out; Ferlinghetti, Corso, Kerouac, all those boys. Anyway I went to "City Lights," the book store I think they own, or used to and the damndest thing happened. Some young girl with gigantic glasses was giving a poetry reading. She's standing at this podium and about thirty listeners are sitting on the floor, most of them chatting. She's saying stuff like; "Petals of the wilted rose succumb to the northern war gods," or something like that. She must have felt that she was not reaching her audience and was compelled to take off her clothes. ALL OF THEM. She calmly stood there and continued to read with her little pile of clothing at her feet. You know what happened next? First, two members of the audience got up and left. I think they were a couple. Then, little by little, all the rest did the same thing. So the people she was minimally reaching in a proper fashion disappeared when she tried to get their attention in a provocative manner. Poor girl must have felt awful. I was feeling sorry for her so I went in and sat down. I'll tell you that I sat through every poem that girl ever wrote. I don't know what in hell she was talking about, but I'll tell you I know that her rose petals were in fine shape."

Harry chuckled and Grandpa sat there stone-faced, seemingly staring at something way off in the desert.

Becky almost knocked the old wooden screen door off its hinges and still in her pajamas ran over to them. She exhaled deeply and said; "I'm glad you're here. That rocket you gave me is talking. I didn't do anything to it. I just put it with my animals. I thought I might be hearing something all night, but I couldn't make it out and thought it was the wind. But, this morning I shut the window ............"

Grandpa interrupted, saying; "Slow down there little girl." He looked at Harry and said; "And she says that I tell stories." He turned back to her and said; "What kind of rocket are you talking about? I didn't give you any rocket."

Harry said; "I did. I had this small plastic toy in my pocket ....................."

Becky couldn't contain herself any longer and cut off Harry, saying; "And the thing keeps saying stuff like; 'Joshua, are you there? Come in Joshua. Joshua, are you all right. Tell us where you are. What's wrong?' Isn't Joshua some kind of religious freak?"

Harry got a clear mental image of "The Law," but didn't know who it was. "Joshua" registered something unclear to him, but he thought it possibly significant.

Grandpa said; "Sounds like the time you said you had the Wicked Witch of the West trapped in your closet."

Becky pleaded; "Come on. Take a look for yourself. It's scaring me. It sounds so ominous." She went back to the door, opened it and implored; "Come on. Come on."

Becky impatiently led the group upstairs, taking two steps at a time. She went to the cabinet that housed her turtles, frogs, finches and all their friends. She opened the framed glass door and everyone heard; "Foucalt, come in and report on your progress. ............ Foucalt, where are you? 'The Law' needs to know."

Becky felt vindicated and safe in the presence of the two men. She said; "See."

Grandpa said; "There has to be a radio in there somewhere."

Harry thought; "Joshua Foucalt and 'The Law.'"

Becky removed the rocket and put it on a night table. It became obvious that the sound emanated from the three inch long, red rocket. "The Law" said; "This is becoming tedious. Report Foucalt!"

Grandpa said; "Hey, we don't use that kind of language around here," thinking that Foucalt was as close to **** it as he would endure in the presence of a child.

"The Law" was perplexed, but glad to finally hear something. He said; "Foucalt, are you joking with me?"

Grandpa said; "Use that word again and I'll shut you off."

"The Law" paused and did a quick evaluation. He decided that more information was necessary. He said; "Are you on Earth?"

Becky giggled and answered; "Of course. What planet are you from?"

"The Law" said; "Joshua, this is no joking matter. Have you gone crazy?"

Harry said; "Who is Joshua?"

"The Law" thought that he recognized the voice and said; "Did something happen to you during the trip? Are you alone?"

Harry felt like being silly and answered; "Of course not. I'm with a little girl and her grandpa."

"The Law" furiously said; "Where are you and what are you doing?"

Harry thought the voice was being too pushy and also didn't want to pinpoint the location for a possible lunatic. He said; "I'm in Waco (pronounced Way-ko), Texas with my friends and you are annoying us."

"The Law" was angered and said; "Call me when you decide to behave responsibly," and shut off the phone device. He typed Waco, Texas into his database program.

Becky put her face next to the rocket and agitatedly said; "What's your number?" She picked it up, shook it and heard a rattle. A door flew open.

Grandpa said to Harry; "Tremendous detailing on something this small. Where did you say you got this thing?"

Harry said; "It was in my pocket. I don't know where it came from," but he was beginning to get some blurred thoughts.

Grandpa said; "Must be some kind of a transmitter in there. I hope it's not a government bug to spy on us."

Becky answered; "If it were it's a pretty stupid idea to have it announce its presence. Can I keep it?"

Grandpa scratched his head, shrugged and said; "I guess so."

### Chapter 4

ACCEPTANCE, ELI, 5-13-98476. 5-13-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

Cronos Titanby called for a secret meeting of the highest Eli officials. In attendance would be President Zeus Indiffant, State Director Seth Recreat, Military Director Marshall Ordnance, Finance Director Brigitte Chance, and Legal Director Prometheus Blaze. As they were the greatest powers on Eli, heavy-duty security was put in place. This alone, would have let anyone interested, like a terrorist, know that important people would be there. So, in the hope of stimulating confusion heavy-duty security was also put in place at five other locations.

The room was cold. Despite the tepid May sun, the air conditioning system was on full blast and the waves of arctic air reverberated off the closed and un-curtained, double glassed windows. The reflecting, chrome and glass furniture with molded plastic covered seats was not conducive to the touch of warm flesh, however that posed no problem.

Cronos anxiously arrived early, as he was the one with the most to lose. He was unable to conceal his apprehension as, in the cause of protecting his position, he had to report a mission failure to a small but clamorous crowd that didn't want to hear about it. It could require decisions; an extension of personal risk.

He gazed out the largest window and saw a deep blue, single-seat, personal jet cascade over the few cumulous clouds minimally painting the sky with bulging texture. As the pilot navigated the heavens the plane's exhaust riddled the blue with gray lines, which inflated before being absorbed by the darkening atmosphere. Cronos watched the tiny projectile until it disappeared behind the craggy mountain.

He took a seat far from the head of the table and thought over his plans. For his own safety he had to engage the wisdom of the herd, but complicating that he also desired not to relinquish his stature. His lack of confidence was demonstrated by his severely proper, button down white shirt and conservative gray designer suit. He thought over how he would phrase the "facts" of his delicate dilemma. His goal was to appear managerial with a tough plan of action and yet obtain other complicit conspirators, in case anything went awry.

He studied his surroundings including the reproductions hung from the wood paneled, informal wall. The red mahogany stained, vertical, smooth pine panels showed no evidence of what they covered as their tongue-in-groove formation blocked all light. It was reminiscent of a fantasy farmhouse that may or may not have existed on Eli eons ago. Its modern utility was to convey popular, down-homey simplicity, in a world that today required sophistication, yet hadn't the audacity to admit it. The Cowboy and Indian scenes were absurdly wistful in present tense, yet served to evoke a "tradition" which truly expired before the flood, but lived on in the self-serving image desired by those in power today. Photo ops were regularly arranged for this room by politicians who directed their faux unpretentious and guileless blimey to the susceptible electorate every four years. Though the people didn't see themselves as gullible, they always exhibited a strong tendency to vote for the easy-going, smiling face. An un-specifically focused babble of platitudes to things gone by, values lost, or something else not in their repertoire was never a disservice. Short-careered, "radical" reporters periodically wrote that this contributed to the obvious "cult of personality" and the continual re-election of the incumbents who were wise enough not to be discovered holding wads of cash in their freezers or whores on their staffs.

Cronos' thoughts distilled to; "Humble, cooperative, team player which hopefully will result in the true goal; blamelessness." Prevalent political mantras utilized by incumbents were; "I didn't do it," "It wasn't me," and "It was the last guy," even when the last guy left office twelve years prior. Though the electorate only pretended to put any credence in the denials when it was regurgitated by someone of their favorite party, he was in real danger of losing the ability to spout the renunciations, without incurring belly laughs.

The entourage entered as a sullen, grimacing group, already fully expecting to hear what they didn't want to hear; mission problems. They glowered at Cronos with one common thought; "You ****** up." Cronos made unrequited nods to each, utilizing his best **** eating smile. A not very surprising added attendee was the flunky, paid-off, "Darkie" Head of State Thomas Bungalowry. Thomas was not on the guest list, however he felt his attendance was necessary to demonstrate importance to his "Darkie" constituency. This was a testimony to the inability of Elis to have a secret meeting and their countrywide inability to keep anything secret. Surveillance cameras were continually running, perched on every street light and sign, which resulted in the average Eli going about his daily business being the unpaid star of a motion picture 1,450 times per day. The government sought no monopoly in the film industry as it sold one of its outdated spy satellites to a private enterprise; an internet search engine, which enabled its customers to clearly focus on anything at any time. Initially popular with the old, infirmed and the crippled, its usage spread to the general population, ostensibly to monitor their children's safety, who, in turn used it, supposedly, to monitor their parent's monitoring.

Zeus Indiffant took his customary seat at the head of the table and Thomas the foot. The others filled in the sides where Cronos already sat. They seemed to be playing a variation of musical chairs, wherein the object was not to be next to Cronos. Legal Director Prometheus Blaze was the oldest and least nimble and consequently got stuck. He leaned toward Zeus and tried not to fidget.

Zeus scratched and fondled his beard, then held his hands out to each side and said; "Mr. Titanby. You called this meeting. Please tell us why we're here."

Cronos spoke carefully, openly reading from his notes, saying; "I appreciate your attendance on such short notice. To make matters as efficient as I can, I'll get right to the point. Something has gone wrong with Foucalt's mission. I have been unable to confirm his arrival on Earth. I've been able to get communication through the rocket's transmitter. But, my answers come from entities unknown. I've heard three voices; that of a little girl, an aged man and another man, who may or may not be Foucalt.

This begs various questions;

Is Foucalt on Earth?

Is he elsewhere?

Is he alive?

Though I can't imagine what it might be, is he playing some sort of game with us?

Is he a captive? And if so, where and why?

If this is Foucalt speaking on occasion, is he free to speak his mind? He might be in the company of Earthlings whenever I try to speak to him.

Might they have control of his "silver bullet"?

Who are these other voices?

Is Foucalt's mission over?

Is it hopelessly compromised?

Should we wait and see what develops in an imperiled Eli environment?

Is any further action indicated?

I am of the opinion that no matter what the answers to my questions, probably not concretely determinable, to be safe a second mission is indicated. As I do not have the authority or resources to implement this on my own, I seek your wise input, counsel and direction."

Each of the others had the same thought. Cronos' last sentence was incomplete as it should have included "complicity and money." Though far from amazed by what they had just heard, the other Directors kept their eyes on the narcissistic glass table, pretending to be taking notes or making adjustments to their hand held computers.

Thomas Bungalowry made his presence obvious with the comment, spoken in indignation: "You ****** up." While this got no discernible reaction from the others, Cronos impassively stared at him as if to say; "No ****." However he did articulate; "And your incisive input, counsel or direction is?"

Tom sputtered; "This is an important issue. Perhaps, the most important issue Elis have ever faced. I think that it is incumbent on someone to get it right."

Zeus Indiffant rolled his eyes, vowing to himself to look into the security leak, and impassively said; "Tom, will you do me a small personal favor? Shut the **** up, unless you want to volunteer for the job."

Tom got quiet.

Zeus said; "I didn't think so. Let's have some input from the Directors. Seth?"

State Director Seth Recreat said; "I don't see why we shouldn't play safe with a mission of this much importance. I agree with Cronos that a second one is in order."

Zeus said; "Marshall?"

Military Director Marshall Ordnance said; "I fully agree. However, I don't see why the mission wouldn't be improved by having a military pilot. If we're going to perform an efficient wipe-out of those war-loving Earthlings it behooves us to have militarily useful information."

Zeus said; "Brigitte."

Finance Director Brigitte Chance said; "No problem for me. We can print the necessary money."

Zeus said; "And last, but not least, Prometheus."

Legal Director Prometheus Blaze shrugged and said; "No objections."

Zeus said; "Cronos, get another solo rocket built. How long do you think that will take?"

"About a month."

Zeus grimaced slightly, but didn't quibble. He said; Co-ordinate the funding with Brigitte and the pilot with Marshall."

His eyes scanned the meeting attendees and he said; "Anything else?"

Thomas Bungalowry spoke up, saying; "In the interest of equality I think it would be fair for the second pilot to be a white from my territory."

Zeus said; "If you don't shut the **** up I'll have the courier drop off your next payment at the "New Darkie Times." (The largest and most respected newspaper in the land devoid of light.) He sneered as if he had seen something unpleasant, unnecessary and unintelligent; then continued; "Marshall, pick someone who is not a heavy duty sun bather."

Marshall nodded.

Zeus said; "And Cronos. Keep me apprised of construction progress. And keep trying to reach Foucalt."

Cronos mimicked Marshall.

With a tired voice, Zeus said; "Anything else?" He looked directly at Tom with "I dare you" in his eyes. When no one spoke he said; "This meeting is concluded."

ESPERANZA, ARIZONA, 5-13-2058.

Late that afternoon Harry woke from his nap. He lay still in bed analyzing the cracks in the ceiling plaster. They seemed to form a pattern; a pattern which repeated and repeated. A little east, a little north, a little west and again a little north over and over again. He changed positions; his head at the foot of the bed, and while the repetition of the pattern remained monotonous, now it now went north, west, north, east, ad infinitum. As inconsequential as he saw the ceiling cracks, he wondered if a tiny plastic space ship could talk to him, why wouldn't the larger ceiling send a message?

He drifted off and had a disturbing, yet welcomed dream in that he didn't like what he had seen, but thought that it might be useful in finding out who he was. He was walking on a large concrete path in a city, nothing like he had seen in Esperanza. Cars filled the roadways. The people went about whatever business they had as if he was not there. They were so precise in their abilities to look some other way, he knew he was seen by most, if not all. A storefront sign said; "Eli Playmates," and the windows openly displayed flesh imitating sex toys.

He thought; "Joshua, Foucalt, rocket, law, Eli, playmates, repeating patterns. LOGIC!

Becky held the rocket in her left hand and rattled it. Simultaneously Cronos used the transmitter saying; "Foucalt. Foucalt. Come in."

Becky asked; "What number are you trying to reach?"

"Who is this?"

"None of your business. What do you want?"

"Foucalt. Is he alive?"

"I don't know. Who or what is a Foucalt?"

Cronos was exasperated. He thought that he had done as well as possible at the meeting, but resented having been instructed to use a military pilot at the discretion of Marshall Ordnance. In haste he took a chance, perhaps for the first time in his life and said; "The guy you have in custody."

"We don't have anybody in custody here. This is a well- respected boarding house and we do not have to put people in custody to have them stay here. As a matter of fact, we are known ...................."

Grandpa entered the room, took the rocket and said; "You're babbling" to Becky and "Who are you trying to reach?" to the rocket he now held.

Mom and Dad heard the interchange and entered with differing looks on their faces. Charles pulled his khaki pants over his midriff as he would prepare for an altercation. Susan appeared amusedly curious in her home made, colorful dress.

Cronos said; "Joshua Foucalt."

Grandpa said; "There is no person by that name here. What number are you trying to reach?

Cronos silently did a slow burn.

Grandpa further questioned; "Where are you calling from?"

Disgustedly, Cronos said; "Eli" and shut off the transmitter. He typed boarding house into his database program.

Harry stood in the open door, heard the last interchange and it gave him more to think about.

Charles (Dad) said; "What is going on here?"

Grandpa told him as Becky nervously wondered if she was in trouble.

Susan (Mom) said; "Years ago I saw an off-beat movie, where a car radio was transmitting messages from God. He'd say the craziest things and people tried to figure out what he meant. ........... I suppose that's not very different from the Bible when you think about it. I mean all that stuff in Numbers about pitching here and there. One would think of a travelling baseball team, but that game wasn't invented until ......"

Charles cut her off saying; "You're babbling." He saw Harry at the door and asked him; "Where did you get this thing?"

Harry said; "I don't know. It was in my pocket."

Charles took the rocket from Grandpa and said; "I'm going to get rid of this thing." He turned to leave the room, intending to run the rocket through the blender.

Becky cried out; "Grandpa said I could have it."

Charles sighed deeply and looked at Grandpa at a temporary loss for words.

Grandpa felt the need to defend himself, but didn't want to risk an authority dispute with Dad in front of Becky. He, too, was silent.

Seeing that it could be useful to him and fearful that Charles would destroy it, Harry said; "I'll be glad to take it back. ........... If that would help."

Mom said; "I don't see the harm in it. It's like getting a wrong number ........... Or an indecipherable message from God. The words in some parts of the Bible are so ambiguous. Well, perhaps purposely so, but if I had a vote ........"

Dad cut her off saying; "Can you cut that stuff, just a tiny bit?" He handed the rocket back to Becky and said; "DO NOT and I'll repeat; DO NOT tell this rocket your name, address, phone number or anything else of a personal nature. UNDERSTAND?"

Becky nodded pertly and looked at the rocket in her hand.

Dad added; "See if you can get it to play some decent music."

### Chapter 5

Harry was certain the rocket held a clue to his past. Becky enjoyed talking to it, as far as it would allow, as when she got really engrossed in a story it would sign off and never played any music. After they saw that no marauders or child molesters surfaced, Mom and Dad came to think it was some sort of malfunctioning talk-capable toy and went about their busy daily routines. Grandpa more or less forgot about the thing as he was more interested in telling his own stories and had a willing ear.

Harry made it a point to meet Grandpa on the porch. The brutally magnificent sun beat down on the parched desert land showing no mercy to the lower strugglers, but Grandpa was making the best of it. In his shaded seat he observed the withering plants no water could help, as their condition required a flood.

Harry's entry jangled the screen door causing it to rebound and rebound against the moldings which restrained it. Harry sat next to the old gentleman and said; "Tell me a story, Grandpa."

Grandpa looked as if he was being made sport of.

Harry gleaned that and added; "I'm not being sarcastic. I like your stories."

"All right, here goes. When I was young there was a man who made his living by protecting the unarmed farmers. He could have worked the other side of the coin and made more money, but strangely he took less to do what he thought was right. A town of farmers was forced to give more and more of their crop to the marauders, to the point where, in one poor year, they were left with not enough to survive and they hired him, offering small wages. He took the job, and after killing one of the bad guys, the others left for easy pickings elsewhere. He had come to admire the farmers' way of life and wanted to change his own, liked the farmers and asked to stay with them. He was referred to an elder of the now prosperous village who told him; 'I'm sorry. It's not any fault of yours, but you cannot stay here. It's just the way the world is ordered. The very way you are and think would disrupt the way of life we work for.' After a few attempts at saying that his case was different, which resulted in no movement of the elder's mind, he put his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger."

Harry was at a loss for words, not having imagined hearing something so mordant.

Grandpa sat quietly, distantly staring out into the sand, squinting because of the pitiless, inhuman sun in his naked eyes. He reflected on the truth he had seen in his years.

Harry said; "Tell me that you made that one up."

Grandpa answered; "Wish I could. A version is also written in the Bible. Moses spent forty years leading his people through the wilderness to get to the Promised Land. When they finally saw it, God told Moses that he couldn't go in. Seems damn cruel."

Harry said; "It's just a story, right?"

"Don't get me wrong. I've got no use for religion. But, I think the people who wrote the Bible had insight. Certain events repeat and repeat and repeat. Sure, people think it's a different story every time, but it's the same old **** over and over. The good get sacrificed and the wicked inherit the Earth, no matter what ******** Jesus supposedly said to the contrary."

Harry didn't understand many of the specifics of what Grandpa was saying, but he thought he had the general drift. He said; "You're in some mood today. Maybe we ought to get drunk."

"Oh, man. Maybe. Maybe. You know, I knew these stories when I was young. At that age I thought I was smart enough to make things different. But, at this age I see I can't fight destiny and I worry about Becky. She's so sweet, but when she grows and sees some of this ........ Ah, **** on it." He went inside and came back out with two screwdrivers, heavy on the vodka, sat and gave one to Harry. He took a gulp and continued; "Grandma's been gone close to ten years now; Celeste. She didn't come from around here; came here when we married. We had it good; you know what I mean. She was a city girl and this place took her some getting used to. Originally, I thought that I could protect her from everything out here, but I couldn't do a **** thing with that cancer. ........... I still miss her and sometimes think that if I had any ***** I'd be with her. Sometimes I think there is something else left for me to do, but I have no idea what it is. ............... I've met some of the local spinsters and widows, and, sure, sometimes I'm tempted. .............. But they're not like her; sweet and guileless, and somehow I think I would be disrespectful to Celeste's memory if I took up with one of them. ....... I wish I would find out what I have left to do so I can get the hell out of here and see her again. ............ You ever been married?"

"I really don't know. .......... I'm starting to get back some memories, but so far not one of that. Sounds like I missed something."

"Ah, you're still young enough to see everything worth seeing. Ain't all that much. ........... Kids came along right away. Susan was the first; then Theresa, Patricia and Kathy. Kathy was a little scamp, trying to get away with everything her older sisters were allowed. Wanted to grow up quick. We were always busy taking care of the kids and trying to make a living. Grandma and I figured we'd get our time after we took care of them and then .............." His voice broke and he took a huge swallow.

Harry wished he had something bright to say, opened his mouth, but no words came.

Grandpa said; "That Becky is something. Reminds me of her Grandma. I think she keeps me going."

"Becky's got quite an imagination and has such a good heart." Harry cut himself short, thinking it better not to recount her defense of the zapped saguaros.

Grandpa chugged his screwdriver, exhaled and said; "Yeah, you know when she was a little girl; about three years old, she insisted that she saw flying saucers landing out in the desert at dusk. As far as I knew, at that age she had never even heard of one, but ......................................"

Harry listened intently.

ELI, 5-19-98476. 5-19-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

On Eli many of the citizens were impatient for news of the mission. "Law" knew that he was the point man and still kept irrational hope for something positive he could communicate. He ducked press calls, saying his time was fully devoted to the project. The people sensed that something was terribly wrong and stepped up their civil insurrection to include the vandalizing of government buildings.

Military Director Marshall Ordnance literally had a fair haired boy for the second mission; Ares Jarrod, pale-skinned by Sunny standards, which is equivalent to an Earth northern Italian. Considered brilliant and brutal, he was Ordnance's favorite for some time, as he loyally followed orders, improvising only where necessary, which always resulted in what Ordnance wanted; victory. He was trusted and to date deserved that, but this time he had his own agenda. Ares desired and thought he deserved to be a Director. At the age of 30, he thought he was positioned properly for his goal and here was the break he needed. If he could single-handedly pull off the mission, he would be a household name of the people. He didn't see any play in going after Ordnance, but saw weakness in Titanby. After all, the first mission, the most important event for which the Galaxy Director was ever responsible had become a problem and was being rescued by a military man, out of Titanby's jurisdiction. He felt that it was also necessary to be the lone hero. If by some chance Joshua was still alive, he would secretly have to correct the situation.

Ares first official act was to call a press conference. When the group assembled, he stood proudly behind the podium, dwarfed by an abundance of Eli flags at his rear. He said; "Thank you for coming on such short notice." He forced a wide smile, which approximated the size of the seventeen medals and decorations pinned to the chest of his almost hidden, formal, green military jacket, the lapels of which resembled the wings of a phantom. "I called you here today, because Cronos Titanby is up to his neck handling the first Earth mission and the people have a right to know the facts. I will be piloting the second Earth mission, which is scheduled for June tenth, if we can't get the rocket built before that."

Newsmen started to speak in unison, and Ares held up his hand, saying; "I'll be taking questions at the conclusion. Having spent my career in the military, it was determined that I would be well suited to gather information concerning the Earth weaponry, defenses and weaknesses. This rocket will be equipped with three transmitters, so that we are better assured that we will be able to communicate this vital information. Though the sun is said to be scheduled to burn out in ten years, scientists have been wrong before and we consider this to be too important an issue to risk new, contrary information. We feel that time is of the essence, and rightly so, for the good people of Eli. I'm open to questions."

As Ares anticipated the barrage of questions that would "necessitate" him saying that Cronos and Foucalt ****** up, Ares was under duress not to be critical, but primarily interested in being "truthful," of course. A reporter commenced the "interrogation" with; "Isn't that what Foucalt was supposed to be doing?"

"Two minds are better than one and as I've mentioned, my military background will enable me to pinpoint military targets and priorities."

Another reporter queried; "If you are better at gathering the necessary information, why weren't you sent in the first place?"

"Joshua Foucalt has superior flying experience."

A third reporter asked; "Was your mission part of the original plan, and if so, why were we not informed of that at the time?"

"That's a very good question which involves some aspects of the military's need for some secrecy. There are some parties out there who are sufficiently deranged to commit sabotage. Some details are held back."

The third reporter followed up with; "Then are you saying this was part of the original plan?"

Ares grimaced externally and silently looked at the floor, while he broadly smiled internally, then responded; "I really don't see the relevance of that point. There will be a second mission for many good reasons. I'm making you aware of that. Whether or not this was part of the original game plan doesn't matter. It's part of it now and I'm openly communicating that to you."

A little man with a bulldog's face asked; "Where is Foucalt and what has he communicated?"

"I'm a rookie at this and I can't in good conscience dance anymore. The answers are that we are not sure and nothing."

"Is his transmitter functional?"

"Yes. We have received messages and continue to. However we do not know who is sending them."

"Is Foucalt alive?"

"We don't know."

"What do the messages say?"

"Nonsense. Gibberish."

"Who is sending them?"

"It sounds like a little girl, an old man, and another man who might be Foucalt. Gentlemen, you now know as much as we do and any further questions can be answered as well by your own inferences as ours. We only see possibilities. That is why I'll be going and maybe we can get this mess straightened out. Thank you." Ares left the platform thinking; "PERFECT."

Cronos saw the replay on the evening news and decided that two can play the same game. The next morning, 5-12, he held his own news conference during which he did not contradict Ares. But, he made a point of saying that the second mission was indeed a part of the original plan, necessitated by the time required to construct another rocket. And, while he retained full confidence in Ares' abilities, he pointed out that the young man was not a decision maker, and therefore not privy to some details. He tried to finesse the lack of meaningful communication issue by saying that there were sporadic technical problems with Foucalt's transmitter which will be rectified when Ares gets there with three more. He said that in the meantime Foucalt was gathering data as expected. He knew he was winging it, but he concluded that at this point he didn't have anything to lose. Joshua's mission had to be viewed as a success, so he might as well say that it was on target with a minor glitch, as any other outcome jeopardized his position.

President Zeus Indiffant, State Director Seth Recreat, Military Director Marshall Ordnance, Finance Director Brigitte Chance, and Legal Director Prometheus Blaze had a phone conference. It was unanimously agreed that everyone involved in the project was either mentally challenged or obviously working in pursuit of their own interest at a time when the entirety of Eli was at stake.

While this was the expectation of any true Eli, it alarmed the powers that be that it should go on at this time. Wasn't the end of the world something special? Brigitte displayed her heritage by retorting; "Well, if it's going to end it's going to end. Making hay on the process has no effect on the outcome. One needs to play the chess game thinking a few moves ahead. There's nothing new. No surprises."

Seth registered concern with the effect it could have on public opinion.

Marshall was secretly proud of his boy and thought he well understood Ares motivation. If he could get Cronos' job he wouldn't have to worry about him seeking the Military Directorship at some point. Thus far Ares' execution was flawless. However he verbalized apologetic platitudes and asked the group to remember how young this man was.

Prometheus asked if anyone thought a crime had been committed, and got no reply.

Zeus was initially angered at the participants' reactions, with the possible exception of the lead-nowhere remark of Seth. He then pushed his controller's neutral button and saw that their reactions were pure Eli logic. He said; "At this point I believe we are committed to both of them. Marshall, I want you to call Ares and tell him to cut the ****. No discussion, just cut the ****. I'll be giving that same message to him and Cronos. Conference adjourned." He hung up and Brigitte giggled.

### Chapter 6

ESPERANZA, ARIZONA, 5-21-2058

In methodical steps, aided by dreams of home, Harry pieced much of his personal puzzle together. He was now convinced that he wasn't an Earthling, but was reticent to publicly state that, as he correctly suspected such an announcement would be greeted with derision; or worse, nodding and politely smiling agreement. In addition to dreams and inferences he was now reasonably certain that no Earthling had anything like a "silver bullet," but he didn't think was particularly bright to bring up in conversation. He was also reticent to speak to the rocket transmitter, thinking that on the other end were likely the people who banished him to Earth and the less they knew about him the better. He suspected that he must have done something absolutely awful; like long term, serial addiction to the public dole and/or frequent dalliances with mind expanding drugs.

He resorted to his controller. He sat alone in his room and pushed buttons, planning on taking his time so as to evaluate each. He pushed the red one at the far right and got incensed. He thought; "Why did this have to happen to me? This is cruel and very unusual punishment. I didn't do anything worse than anyone else. At least I don't think so. When I find out who was responsible for this, I don't care if it takes the rest of my life, I'll ........... **** them up somehow. Having to sit here and listen to Grandpa's bullshit stories. And that Becky; having the audacity to chastise me for having a little fun with my 'silver bullet.' Nine years old and making rules for adults. She thinks that cute little face makes her immune from a good smack." He wrote in his pad; "Red is anger."

He pushed the deep blue button on the left. He thought; "What does anyone expect from me? I'm in a foreign land, don't even know who I am and when I run out of cash I don't know what to do. I'll probably starve to death in the desert. Nobody will help. Sure, they'll smile and offer best wishes, but that won't get me a meal. What kind of jobs are there in this place? Family operated farms and rooming houses don't need my skills. What skills? My 'silver bullet?' I can hold up people. And get what? A life's work of penny ante scores. I'm sorry for whatever I did. Just tell me what it was and I'll never do it again. Please, I promise." He wrote; "Deep blue is depression."

He pushed the medium green button in the middle. He thought; "It's not so bad here. Becky and Grandpa are great. I have wads of cash and maybe my credit card has no limit and I can just stay here forever. Fine to whoever banished me. I really don't want to see them either. I wish that jerk talking through the rocket would just leave me alone. Whatever he says is either retarded or dogmatic. Glad I'm here." He wrote; "Acceptance," and left the button pushed in.

Below the buttons was a white switch, the size of two fingers, stretching from one side of the controller to the other. Beneath it were the words; "LEFT BRAIN" on the left and "RIGHT BRAIN" on the right. He thought that this was much too obvious and that the product manufacturer must have made it for those with no brain. He pushed the switch to the left and started to cry. He got a vague ominous feeling and worried that something terrible would happen to Becky and Grandpa. He thought; "I love them. Why does this have to be? It's so **** unfair." Tears streamed down his cheeks and rather than risk explaining a crying fit to a surprise visitor, he pushed the switch to the right. He thought; "I can help them. I can also help myself. I just have to determine what is going on here and then I'll easily find some way around it." He liked this more confident approach and the tears subsided. However, he didn't like the fact that now he felt he could handle things proficiently out of pride, not out of a love for his friends. That feeling was gone. He tried to set the switch in the middle, but as soon as he let go it went to the right or left. The only way it could be centered was to hold it there, which wasn't very conducive to simultaneously doing anything else. After several unsuccessful centering tries, he left the switch positioned to the right. He vowed to find the manufacturer and talk to him about putting a clutching gash in the center.

His wrist became extremely hot and he scratched at it. The burning sensation became excruciating and he wet a towel and rubbed it over the area. He didn't realize how hard he was scouring and wore away skin, revealing an implant. He knew a computer chip when he saw one and his first thoughts were that his experiments with button pushing must have produced speed capable of causing extreme heat and "I'm a robot! An android! A mere machine!" He was disturbed and felt as if he were something less than the others. The thought was a brief one before he got to; "So what if I am a robot? Everyone responds to programming whether they know it or not. Random conditioning. ............. Who made me? Don't know. For what purpose? Don't know. Why was I sent here? Don't know. Do I have to do what my makers intended? If I don't know what they intended, I could accidentally do or not do their bidding. Do I have the ability to manage my thoughts and actions? ............... Whoooo, yes, within the limits of my controller."

Harry retrieved a screwdriver from the vanity and went to work on the controller. He opened it and risked going completely haywire by tinkering with the inner workings, of which he knew nothing. He thought; "I'm not satisfied with the way I am, so what is there to lose? Unsatisfied is unsatisfied." His work resulted in the simultaneous depression of the red, deep blue and medium green buttons and the central notched-with-the-edge-of-a-screwdriver balancing of the white switch, neither on left brain nor right brain. He thought; "Maybe I ****** up the entire thing. Maybe I had no effect at all. But, maybe, just maybe, I removed the limitations." He was ready to go on ALL cylinders. He burst through the closed door with the determination of Michael Jordan.

He stopped in the hall and thought; "Go where?" He stood there taking in the photo of Monument Valley. The sand was primary; severely sun-bleached red, perhaps with some yellow, resulting in the seemingly infinite supply of ruddy particles. Upon closer inspection he saw that this "photograph" was not a photograph at all. It had texture; he could feel it and did; an unsigned "realist" painting; assuming the artist did not take liberties. And if he did, so what? That would be just something for the technicians to debate; photo realist painting or photo-fantasy-masquerading-as-photo-realist painting. It is what it is; it looks as it looks; and the result was beautiful. The stratified sandstone buttes were magnificent and enormous. The thousand foot, flat topped mounts, some with sky piercing spires, boasted of their immunity to time, displaying a faded red hue with a clearly defined condescension to blue-gray. Actually the red tarnishing was performed by the incessant sun and intermittent windstorms, mixing in shades of blue, too faded to suggest the original. Despite unrelenting, ageless attack, they were unmovable in their views, though each radiated from a differing point. They were unmistakably devoid of any evidence of the plunder of humans, aliens, androids or mixtures. Harry thought; "The artist was an idealist."

A voice ended his reverie. He heard Becky talking. He went to and stood at her open door. She was staring at the rocket and he heard her playfully say; "How stupid are you?" She laughed and added; "Dumb question. Stupid people don't know that they are stupid." She turned and said; "Oh, hi Harry. I really like the rocket. It makes me laugh. It's been telling me that things are a mess in Eli. I think that's someplace in Utah. Anyway, the military is maneuvering for control of the mission, and when I asked him if that was something like a church, he got all mad and everything, insisting that I get Joshua. I told him that I didn't know any Joshua and that he keeps calling the wrong number. Those religious people can get so serious sometimes. Come to think of it I don't know of any stories in which Jesus laughed. When I asked him he told me that his name was Crow Nose Titan Bee. Can you imagine a name like that? I asked him if Bee was his last name and was he an American Indian. They're the only ones with names anything like that that I've heard of."

The rocket demanded; "Put Joshua on the line."

Harry now had more pieces of his puzzle, but thought that he needed more information, and didn't want to reveal what he knew for a variety of reasons. Crow Nose might be a cop looking for him. This could be some kind of trick. He didn't want to say that he was something other than human in front of Becky and whoever else might be listening. And he didn't want to be the butt of the joke. He decided that he would attempt to handle the situation by being the one who would do the questioning.

He said; "This is Harry. Who are you?"

A tired voice said; "Cronos Titanby."

"And what is it you want?"

"Joshua. .......... You sound a lot like him. What's going on?"

"Nothing except that some misinformed person keeps calling here with ridiculous messages." Harry spoke in a childish voice and added; "Okay, okay. Let's make believe that I know where Joshua is. What message do you want me to give him?"

Cronos audibly sighed and said; "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Joshua. Have you switched sides?"

Harry thought that the messages were either coming from a nut, a person with nothing to do or an android from another planet. He leaned toward the latter possibility because of his chip discovery and his awareness of the fact that Earth communications were adequate to pinpoint the location of a call, discouraging an Earthly nut. He said; "I'm not Joshua. I do not know any Joshua. What kind of "sides" are there? Maybe I'll join one." He smiled at Becky who briefly and politely grinned.

"This is getting so tedious. ........ I'm sick of this game. If you do not properly perform your mission, Eli's existence is imperiled, your life may be in danger and most importantly, I might be out of a job."

"Who is Eli?"

Cronos hung up in frustration.

Becky said; "Where is Eli? Not who."

"Who? Where? What? How? When? Why? I don't know. I have trouble with the small stuff. Like my name and inquisitive little girls." He used both hands to tickle Becky's sides, and cackling, they ran out the front door to see Grandpa in his favorite porch seat.

He joined him and Harry said; "Grandpa, do they have androids here?"

Grandpa fluttered his sleepy eyes watching Becky run toward the desert. He said; "What a question. What exactly do you mean by android? We've been computer enhanced for more than a century now."

"Something resembling a person which is actually controlled by a computer program."

"They're all over the place now."

Harry was startled and the look on his face showed it.

Grandpa laughed and added; "Of course they don't consider themselves androids and they are not called that in polite company. We've been politically correct for a long time and to say android would be like saying nigger. You're not from here, are you?"

"I don't think so."

"Where are you from?"

"Eli?"

Grandpa leaned over and playfully whispered; "Harry. If I were you I wouldn't say that to anyone else."

"I'm not going to. But, I trust you. Besides, by my questions, and the things that voice in the rocket say, you probably can tell that something out of the ordinary is going on."

Grandpa looked at the gray painted, planked wood flooring of the porch and spit, just clearing it.

Harry said; "Look at this," simultaneously extending his left arm, from which the imbedded chip still protruded. "Do humans have anything like this?"

"No, sir. At least not yet. ............. Up until now they've been content to carry their chips around in their pockets. Do you have any idea how expensive surgery has become? I think that's the only thing that prevents it."

"I like you. I like Becky. I like the whole family. So, I want to be straight with you. I got amnesia, but I'm starting to piece things together. I'm pretty sure my name is Joshua and that I come from Eli, wherever that is. I think that I was sent here either because I did something terrible there, because I'm on some kind of mission or both. I've got a weapon the likes of which doesn't exist on Earth." He took out his "silver bullet," and zapped a prickly pear fifty feet away. He laughed and continued; "Becky would kill me if she saw that. I want you to know all of this as I want you to think for me. It might be better for your family if I go away, as I might next find out that I'm some sort of programmed killer. That voice says my life may be in jeopardy."

Grandpa said; "Can I see that thing?"

Harry-Joshua handed it to him. Grandpa aimed it at some cholla ten feet from the porch and pushed the button, obliterating the entire group. He gave the "silver bullet" back to H-J, saying; "I never did like those God ****** things. Stuck the hell out of me once when I slipped into them. Don't tell anybody."

H-J put a finger over his lips and nodded.

Grandpa sighed and said; "I wish you would have asked an easier question. Nobody's ever had to deal with anything like this. Can you find out what your mission is?"

"I've been trying to make that voice in the rocket think that Joshua is not here, just in case he's an escaped criminal, perhaps political, so that no one is sent after me."

"Son, you've got one hell of a dilemma. Don't try to pawn it off on me. The way I figure it is that if you were sent here to kill us you could have done that already. If you've forgotten that you were sent here to kill us and you go away, when you remember you'll just come back and do it. And if it's not you it will be some other android."

As she came back into view they watched Becky chase a rabbit. Grandpa said; "To avoid any unwanted attention let's keep your name at Harry. Joshua will be our secret."

Harry went back to his room and mulled things over. He thought; "Whether I'm a human, an alien or an android, life here is complicated for me as I don't know the place. Wouldn't the plain truth restore simplicity? No, it would cause more problems and I really am not sure of what the truth is. Maybe there isn't one plain unvarnished truth. Maybe it comes in layers, like layer one works for some people, but layer two would cause them problems, on and on like peeling an onion. Has any human, alien or android ever gotten to the core? I know I have to do something like that. But, no matter what, I will never be responsible for hurting Becky or Grandpa. I swear it." He checked his controller to see that all the buttons were pushed and the switch was balanced.

"My best guess is that I'm some kind of android, not from here. According to facetious Grandpa the Earth androids don't yet have implants. So where and what is Eli?"

He researched the internet to find that Eli either had some tie to a vague concept of God or was a word used in a failed action movie which was essentially "Mad Max," eighty years too late. My mission? Try to find out about the mission from Crow Nose without divulging anything. Maybe I'm important. Otherwise I wouldn't have been given it. Unless there are others. Maybe they just want me to think I'm important, which is really very unlikely, so they can make me disclose my whereabouts. I have to find out what they need and play off that.

ELI, 6-6-98476. 6-6-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

Three anxious weeks went by. The worries created subsidiary problems. It had finally sunk in that Eli's were facing a real death situation. Initially many heard the words but merely took them as an excuse to let things rip and have a good time. With time to contemplate non-existence, possible on any day, depending on the source, Elis looked to the government for answers that couldn't be provided, even if that government cared to try to provide them.

"Darkies" were particularly concerned about the protocol for their possible departure. Rightly fearful that the favored "Sunnies" would get the first berths they worried that they would be left to die in the cold dark on Eli, without the resources or technology to build an escape ship, and that those who survived the freeze would then die a miserable dismembering death by getting sucked into the black hole. After the first rowdy "Darkie" demonstration was located in "Sunny" territory, Zeus furiously called "Darkie" Premier Thomas Bungalowry.

"Get this **** on your side of the horizon now!"

"The people have a legitimate complaint and their lives are at stake."

"That's very high handed thing for a bought and sold traitor to say."

"............................."

"If you can't fix this YOU will be the last one out of here, or maybe we'll leave you here to count your coins."

"What am I supposed to tell them?"

"This is what you're paid for Tom. Do I have to do your job for you?"

"......................................"

"How big an idiot are you? Tell them anything that sounds equitable. It can always be rescinded due to unforeseen circumstances discovered later." Zeus hung up.

Tom went on TV and told his people not to worry and to curtail the rancorous demonstrations as the youngest will be first to go. He said that was an eminently fair system based solely on birth dates and that he got that approved by the Sunny government. While there was a modicum of grumbling from parents afraid of being separated from their kids, this approach was overwhelmingly acceptable to a people who were accustomed to always being on the short end of the stick. Manufacturers of bogus birth certificates proliferated.

However, when this news was heard on the "Sunny" side of the street, the Association of Senior Sunnies (ASS) interpreted this to be discrimination based on age. When their lawyers entreaties to the Sunny government were ignored they searched for where this was written and under whose authority, so that they could determine who to sue or enjoin. While this activity inspired joking witticisms on the non-senior Sunny side, it opened more "Darkie" questions about limited authority being an excuse to renege.

When Tom felt that he could no longer ignore a growing threat, he went on TV and told the people; "Zeus said so. There is no higher authority," and flashed a phony document.

Zeus was pleased and raised his opinion of Tom. The ASS lawyers did their customary task of confusing everyone, and in doing their best, again managed to invoke general disinterest, to the point where raising the now very wearisome and arcane issue could get one punched, even in polite company.

Cronos worried for his job, but what could he do? As instructed by a stern Zeus, though that was not the determining factor, he called no more impromptu news conferences as he had previously shot his wad. The other rulers did likewise as they saw nothing to be personally gained.

Mr. Titanby called Earth two or three time daily, depending on his Maalox supply. His cagey approach suggested by his fear of divulging the invasion plan to an Earthling matched Joshua-Harry's cagey approach suggested by his fear of becoming a located criminal and no meaningful information was discovered by either.

### Chapter 7

ACCEPTANCE, ELI, 6-8-98476. 6-8-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

It was the day before scheduled Flight II containing Ares the Ambitious and Cronos was pacing his office floor, Maalox bottle in hand, drunk on the pink ulcer tonic. The buzz was in his head, but only sharp pains resided in his gut. He muttered to himself; "You work all your life to attain a position, forsaking family, lovers, wives, hobbies and play and it only takes one problem to put it all in jeopardy. I realize that the bungle happened during the single most important event in the history of Eli, but it wasn't my fault. And even if it was, what do they expect? Perfection? The only thing perfect is death and maybe I've contributed to the people finding that. Serves the ingrates right. Ha, ha. Damn that Joshua Foucalt!"

He realized that as he spoke his voice was elevating. He opened the closed door to see if anyone just happened to have business within earshot of his plaintive monologue. Seeing no one he felt free to continue as he found he was enjoying talking to himself. He imagined himself a brooding royal making his case to an unseen celestial listener or, in lieu of that, a silent psychiatrist hiding behind his desk, beard and glasses. "I am not the swimmer and this is not the deep blue, but I am in the deep stuff as far as I can see. I've played safely all my life and at this advanced age I have to consider an un-hedged act? The fortunes are completely unfair. But, even were I willing, what act?" He took a swig from his rapidly emptying, pink bottle and unabashedly wiped the residue from his lips with the cuff of his shirt. "I know. I know. I know. That's my job to figure that out. But, I could use a hint. This whole thing scares me. You laugh? Consider a lifetime of avoiding all criticism by not making any decisions at all, but knowing how to appear to be in charge by questioning. The percentages are in your favor in this manner, as opposed to actually doing something and becoming the answer man. Only this time, when I scream my questions into space I get nonsense back. If I can't get anywhere asking questions, I'll have to risk being the one on the hot seat. ............... That's it! I will commit an overt act. Right now, before I think better of it." He chugged the remainder of his bottle and charged to the transmitter.

He said; "Joshua, don't give me any nonsense and report right now."

Becky answered; "You must be thick. How many times have you been told that there is no Joshua here?"

"Yes there is; Joshua Foucalt. Go get that man, whatever you call him. The one who sometimes gets on the line. Not the old one!"

"I don't have to."

"Little girl, this is a matter of the utmost importance."

"I'm not little. I'll be ten in a week."

Cronos' will to take charge was being tested. He sought a new, more circuitous approach and said; "Happy birthday. What kind of presents do you want?"

"I like to be surprised."

Cronos was never actually in that circle and drew a blank. In frustration he said; "I'll send you a cuddly teddy bear. Would you please go get that man."

"As long as you say please. And don't bother with the bear."

"Please."

"With sugar and spice and everything nice on top?"

"With sugar and spice and everything nice on top."

"Hold on. I'll see if I can find him."

Just to be sure, he said; "Thank you," and did his best not to make it sound sarcastic.

Becky went to the porch and found Harry in his recent favorite place; sitting next to Grandpa. She interrupted the "when I was young" story, saying; "Harry, you're wanted on the rocket. The nut insists that your name is Joshua, though."

Becky sat and picked up the thrice heard tale at midpoint. Harry went to her room and said; "Hello" to the tiny rocket.

It answered; "I have something very important to tell you. Are you alone?"

Harry shut the door and said; "Yes."

"I'm Cronos Titanby, Galaxy Director of the Planet Eli. I'm going to take the chance that you are Joshua Foucalt and tell you something that you need to know. I know you are aware of this, but I'm going to say it anyway. You are the Senior Galactic Executive, my right hand man, also from the planet Eli. You were sent to Earth because Eli's sun will soon die and the people need another place to live."

Harry wanted him to slow down and said; "The planet Eli is not known on the internet."

"And it will never be known on Earth as one has to travel at the speed of light to the fifth power to reach it. To continue the main point, the powers that be have determined that Earthlings are a violent species; their history is a rendition of wars. One in three women has been raped. We peaceful Elis cannot live with such primates, so you were sent there to report back on their weaknesses, weaponry and locations, so we can take them out as efficiently as possible."

"When you say 'take them out,' are you referring to the people or the weapons?"

"Both. Since you've been incommunicado another Eli is coming tomorrow; a choice of Military Director Marshall Ordnance. Ares Jarrod is very ambitious and I would suspect that if he finds you alive he will try to kill you, in order to have all the glory. Any questions?"

"No doubt, but they don't come to mind right now. When they do I'll blast you on the rocket."

"You could be making a fatal mistake taking this lightly."

"I'm really not. You've given me a lot to think about. I'll assume you're being honest with me and I'll hazard following suit. I got amnesia. I've been piecing things together and have been getting some ideas and lost memories back. They don't contradict what you're saying. How can I be sure that I'm who you say I am?"

Cronos thought a few seconds and matter-of-factly said; "Go into the rocket and look around."

Harry snorted a half-laugh.

"What?"

"You've got to be kidding. You've just lost all credibility."

"I don't understand."

"The ******* thing is about two inches long. I was carrying it around in my pocket."

"You're not joking. Of course, first you have to shrink."

"........................"

"You've forgotten. I guess you haven't used your controller."

"Yes, I have, but I didn't shrink."

"All right. This is a bit tricky. Take out your controller. Got it?"

"Yeah, but I have to tell you something. I made some adjustments to it. All three buttons are pushed in and the switch is set in the center."

"Undo it."

"I don't think I can."

"Oh, boy. You're stuck on Earth until someone fixes you up with a new controller. How do you feel?"

"Well. In fact, very well."

Cronos said; "You say you have all three buttons pushed in and the switch set in the middle?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to have to try that. I can't recall the last time I felt very well."

"..........................."

"Well, if you can undo what you did red, red, green, blue, blue, green will make you shrink and blue, blue, green, red, red, green will return you to full size. The manufacturer did it this way, thinking it fool proof, so no one would shrink or grow accidentally. It can be embarrassing in social situations. These **** things always manage to have some glitch. They didn't anticipate someone wanting to stay big at all times."

"I didn't want to! It just happened accidentally. ................... This method of 'proof' is reaching a dead end. Is there any other way you can assure me of what you say?"

"You have a chip imbedded in your body."

"So do dogs."

"Dogs?"

"Yeah, for years. In case they get lost, someone can find where they belong."

Cronos cleared his throat to avoid the possibility of a chuckle. He said; "I don't know. How does anybody prove anything to anybody? On an objective level there's always some detail missing. Then, if found, later there are factual adjustments and discovery of better measuring instruments. On a subjective basis there are various theories concerning the ability to know anything. The present-day, lionized theory put out by the newest brilliant philosopher is that one can only know what is in their own mind and that anything outside of it may not even EXIST. If correct, this renders the burden of proof from one Eli to another an insurmountable .........."

Harry cut him off, saying; "You're getting a little deep here. I mean, like, can you fax me a copy of a photo drivers' license or something similar. I'd even be comfortable with a photo library card."

"There are no fax machines on Earth compatible with ours and even if they were it would take forever to get there."

Before the conversation commenced Harry-Joshua had strong suspicions of his alien status and what Cronos had told him did not oppose any of his prior thoughts. However, whether or not someone could travel at the speed of light to the fifth power seemed a little far-fetched. His mission was unsettling as he was expected to betray his new friends. Knowing that someone was coming to kill him was useful information. He didn't want to show all his cards and perhaps because he had been on Earth for a while, he felt silly and said; "If the fax isn't fast enough, figure out a way to send it by rocket. We've still got some time. In all seriousness, I think you'll appreciate the fact that I have to consider the possibility that I might be being tricked into killing someone for others' purposes. How do I know this isn't some sort of set up?"

"Even if it was in the interest of someone else to kill Ares, it is also in yours. If you insist on being obtuse and stubborn, you will likely be dead."

"Excellent point."

"We have a mutual interest here. We must trust each other." Cronos refrained from choking. "Your life and my job are a function of your success."

"If I remember correctly success means conveying Earthling weaknesses, weaponry and locations."

"Precisely."

"And the death of Ares Jarrod?"

Cronos said; "I don't see how that would harm either of our interests."

Harry-Joshua said; "Consider it done," ending the conversation.

Joshua now had enough understanding of the chess board movements and non-movements to know where his knight stood and how he probably got where he was. It didn't sit well with him, but this was where someone placed the pieces. Joshua didn't define the game or its rules. He was a mere player put into a bad situation. The eradication of the Earth people was most disturbing. He had come to love Becky and Grandpa and couldn't envision any circumstances in which he would be comfortable in being part of their deaths. He was also certain there were other Beckys and Grandpas throughout the world, as he didn't believe in the miracle of his having happened to land next to the only two. He had no moral qualms with helping to eliminate Earth's weapons, as sometimes technology does get ahead of the people's ability to use it properly. The system had a to-date-insoluble flaw. To rise to the top and determine policy, one had to spend a lifetime thinking of one thing; themself, no matter the cost to others. Cronos said that the Elis had achieved peace, yet he added that these "peaceful" people were set to take out all Earthlings. He didn't even seem aware of the obvious discrepancy. He's either a liar, not very bright or a product of a severely flawed system. After having absorbed some of the Earthlings' love of life, started when Becky chastised him for obliterating a cactus, he was not even at ease with the idea of killing Ares. Self-defense was another matter. So, as is always the case, the question with which he wrestled was what to do next. He was only certain of one thing; that he couldn't live with himself if he was complicit in the deaths of Becky and Grandpa. In fact he expected that he would be suicidal if his mere lack of effort had that result. What to do? What to do?

Cronos got an idea from the amnesia story. He wasn't certain that Ares would try to kill Joshua, but it was the logic he drew from his understanding of Ares' point of view. More importantly, it was in his interest to have Joshua think so, as if Joshua killed the military interloper, it suited him just fine on a personal basis. He also wasn't fully convinced that Joshua had really contracted the amnesia condition, but couldn't imagine what interest he had in saying that he did. Whatever Joshua's true mental state, it was better for him (Cronos) to have his man on the heroic job and Ares out of the picture. He made two phone calls, and under the guise of properly keeping his "team-mates," President Zeus Indiffant and Military Director Marshall Ordnance, informed, he told them that he had definitely located Joshua and that he was without memory. He knew that the report would get back to Ares and he hoped the second astronaut would interpret that as meaning Joshua would be an easy target and not be as efficient as he possibly could be.

### Chapter 8

ACCEPTANCE, ELI, 6-9-98476. 6-9-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

At 2AM, with an audience of fourteen "Sunny" ASS members of the elite but waning "Codger Corps," Ares Jarrod placed his name in Eli history books forever by climbing to the launch pad and shrinking. It should be noted that while this was one of the most significant events in the life of all Elis, the vast majority chose to get their normal rest as they rationalized that the event would either come off or not regardless of their attendance. As was their custom, the press expected to later obtain photos and the correct phrasing of the story from government sources. Ares waved goodbye and gave a confident thumb-up to the Codgers, who couldn't see him well and had no chance of spotting his miniscule digit.

Vrrr, vroom, vroom, aaarooop and then LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK.

Ares found the visual display reminiscent of an antique 8MM movie projector, speed set at painfully slow. His eyes wearied under the constant kinetoscopic presentation of images invisible to him. Excepting the three transmitters his rocket was a duplicate of its older brother. Though it was anticipated by no one, including the brilliant Completions, it did precisely the same thing and landed in the Sonoran desert, its sibling no longer in sight. Ares pushed his controller's appropriate buttons, returned to full size and placed the rocket under a giant saguaro. He tested his "silver bullet" by obliterating a Gilded Flicker, which was investigating the large red bug it considered having for breakfast.

ESPERANZA, ARIZONA, 6-8-2058

The details filled in by Cronos must have triggered a process in Joshua's unconscious mind, similar to falling dominoes, as he vividly dreamed of home. In his dream he saw the peaceful planet attain that lofty goal through the forced installation of a lethargy producing controller in all Elis. They walked in methodical, tiny steps, made no reaction if another bumped into them, apparently not caring enough to fight with or love anyone; completely subjugated zombies. He saw that he was one of the ruling elite who had the option of changing moods, but the vast majority was permanently on official "neutral," a euphemism for cipher or zero. The "silver bullet" he possessed was also rationed to the few and its existence in all sizes dictated peace. Rather than this peace being the result of an uplifting experience, the simple logic was that any war assured mutual annihilation and if accomplished the rulers would be left with nothing to rule, not even themselves. It was obviously a rational, acute sensory disordered (ASD, but not officially considered a disease or syndrome) realm. Peace employing rubber sex toys, V&V's, and a high suicide rate, the implements by which to off one's self available cheaply at all discount stores. Improvement? The conclusion was inescapable, as Elis now walked a living death and died at their own hands rather than the hands of an enemy.

Joshua woke with a start at 3AM and realized that Cronos' was telling him the truth, at least as much of it that was of benefit to Cronos. He anticipated the good possibility of a showdown, and wanted to be alert and prepared. His eyes grew accustomed to the dark as he moved around his room, lit only by the vague and indirect half-moon. He felt safe in the shadows as he thought it gave him an advantage over Ares, a "Sunny," who had spent his life in the constant presence of a now failing light. He had made the first of his decisions and wondered why it seemed so difficult yesterday. It was either him or Ares; a no brainer if there ever was one.

He stared out his window looking at the stillness of the night time desert. He was hoping for a sign, a warning, a flash; something to let him know it was time to go into action. As the sun's light filtered over the horizon he saw a miniscule light streak out of the sky to the desert floor. He descended the stairs and went out the back door.

He slowly and carefully walked in the cover of cactuses and made a mistake; he started to re-think, just when action (execution) was the order of the moment. How could he be sure that Ares wanted to kill him? He had heard of the ambitious young man and thought it logical that Ares could be a hero by merely rescuing the mission. He didn't have to risk the murder of an Eli. All he had was the suggestion of Cronos, an ambitious old man, who would do or say anything to maintain power. He wished that he didn't ruin his controller, as he could now push the neutral button and merely do what was safe; shoot first and ask questions later. He cursed the influence Becky and Grandpa had on him, as prior to them he could have taken out an Ares in the course of another day's work; no more, no less.

As he walked in the direction of the rising sun, Ares, too, was afflicted with thought. While he had no moral qualms with murder, he knew that if it was found out that he had killed Joshua his career would be over. Instead of having a chance at Cronos Titanby's post, he would have a chance at incarceration. The only one who claimed firsthand knowledge of Joshua's being debilitated was Cronos, an excellent player of games. Maybe Joshua was in fine shape and ready. It's better to assume that anyway. He was certain that he wanted to kill Joshua for his own purposes, but couldn't afford to get caught doing it. He took the tiniest of leaps of faith and thought that in reality, how could anyone find out? Possibilities. Possibilities. He double checked his controller's neutral setting and pragmatically concluded; "No guts, no glory."

He came to the "Esperanza" sign and thought he might be getting close, so he, like Joshua, sought the shelter of the cactus patches, walking close to them.

With the sun behind him Joshua saw his man first and yelled; "Ares." Instinctively Ares went right for his "silver bullet," and drew, but as he raised his hand to fire, it hit a branch of a giant saguaro and the spines made him pull back dropping the "silver bullet." Joshua drew at the same time, but effectively fired, sending Ares to oblivion. Joshua immediately felt guilty. He had not the slightest degree of remorse about defending himself, but he realized that the saguaro had possibly saved his life, after he had obliterated a few of its relatives. He walked to it; saying; "Thanks. Sorry. You're a forgiving species. I'll find some way to pay you back."

Joshua heard Becky yell; "I saw that." She ran to the spot and picked up Ares' "silver bullet." Instinctively Joshua pointed his at her, but succeeded only in making him disgusted with himself. He put it back in his pocket.

### Chapter 9

Becky's "silver bullet" was aimed right at Harry-Joshua and she said; "You should be ashamed of yourself. I ought to put you out of your misery before you blast everything around here."

"Would you give me that thing before somebody gets hurt?"

He reached for it. Becky pulled it away, saying an emphatic; "No."

"Come on. I know you're not going to purposely use it."

Becky was trembling. She said; "Don't be so sure."

"You saw what happened. He drew on me."

"You called him out. There must have been another way."

"Even you said it was okay to blast rattlesnakes. That's exactly what he was. He came here to kill me."

Becky recalled her previously stated sentiment regarding rattlesnakes. She put the "silver bullet" in her pocket and was silent as she thought things over.

H-J said; "Thanks. I owe you an explanation. You must have known that I had amnesia, but I think that now my memory is entirely back. My real name is Joshua Foucalt and I'm from the planet Eli. Our sun will soon die and we need another place to live. The only place we know to be suitable is here on Earth. I'm here as a scout and that voice you hear on the rocket is that of my boss; Cronos Titanby." He paused to see a reaction. Getting none, he continued; "We are a people of peace and Earthlings are not. It is our intention to wipe out all the humans on Earth, so that we can continue to live in peace. You have seen that we have the weapons to accomplish that."

Becky found that ridiculous and nervously laughed.

Joshua said; "I have not seen that myself, but your history is one of armed conflict."

"I'm almost ten years old and I have not seen any myself."

"You are one of the fortunate. Will you give me that gun?"

"You must think that I'm incredibly stupid."

Joshua merely said; "No."

"As far as I'm concerned you peaceful Elis are the rattlesnakes and I want to be ready."

"Becky. I've been given an important role in this whole problem and I swear to you that I'll find a way to avoid the catastrophe. I couldn't live with myself if I was responsible for eliminating people like you and Grandpa."

"Easy to say."

"You sound like a cynical Eli."

"You fight fire with fire."

"There will be no fire. Will you give me that gun? It does you no good."

"Go back where you came from."

"It doesn't matter if I did. More will come. Just like the rattlesnake I had to blast."

Becky cried; "Why does it have to be this way?"

"I'll find another way." He knelt and held her. "Trust me."

Becky's cries turned to soft sobs.

Joshua said; "Now, will you give me that gun?"

She broke away and defiantly said; "No. You're going to have to trust me."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know. Protect me and my family."

"That's what we all do and then the wars begin."

"It sounds like the Elis have already declared war on Earth. It would be stupid for me to disarm."

"You're right. ......... Just don't shoot me before I figure this whole mess out."

Becky laughed and said; "Okay. I'll trust you and you'll trust me."

"Deal." Joshua wondered how he could keep his promise and sat in the shade of a saguaro.

Becky ran back to the house and was greeted by porch-sitting Grandpa. She was holding the "silver bullet" and excitedly said; "Look what I've got."

He was stunned and said; "Give me that! Something happen to Harry?"

"His name is really Joshua and he's fine. This belonged to a bad guy he had to plug."

Grandpa reached for the "silver bullet" and Becky handed it to him, saying; "Don't lose it. We might need it. Joshua said that the Elis are coming here to wipe us out. He says he'll find a way to stop it, but I'm not so sure."

Grandpa was surprised that Becky now knew Joshua's story. He said; "Didn't Joshua want this," as he revolved the "silver bullet" in his hand.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't give it to him. ............. We made a deal that we will trust each other."

"Becky, don't tell anyone else about this. You're a smart little girl and ......."

She indignantly said; "I'm not so little. I'll be ten on June fifteenth."

He put his head behind her neck and pulled her forward, pressing his forehead against hers. He said; "I'm going to put this in a safe place and don't you follow me. If someone comes looking for it, it's better if you don't know where it is." He stood up with some effort and an exhale and walked toward the desert. He wanted her to think that was where he was going to put it, but he intended to return with it and keep it somewhere in the house, just in case. She went in and sat at the table in the empty kitchen, thinking many inter-related thoughts which bisected each other.

### Chapter 10

Joshua was also deep in thought under the protection of a member of the forgiving saguaro family. He decided that the first thing he had to do was find Ares rocket and dispose of it as he didn't want to risk having any evidence around that he was anywhere near him. He followed footprints in the sand.

He walked and walked, eyes to the ground, wishing to see Ares' tiny rocket. The incessant sun made him break into a sweat, long after the duel had no effect on his moisture secretion. The Esperanza sign served as a reminder of where he had been and where he was going. Now that he had taken steps back to being a corrupted Eli he saw the "No" painted in front of the town's name as an expression of stupidity, performed by someone who had not seen much. The little rocket shined at him from the edge of a group of prickly pear cacti. He pocketed the state-of-the-art model and walked back toward town.

Grandpa circled around killing time and thinking about the destruction possibilities the technology represented. It seemed ridiculously ironic that the end of everything was enclosed in a silver lipstick case. He realized that there was nothing anyone could do about it as once something has been invented it never goes away. In his time he had seen the power of explosives grow exponentially, but this Eli device was insidious in its ability to destroy things easily, silently, secretly and with no messy fuss. Death had become banal, effortless and efficient, with the chic of Art Deco.

He still had no idea of where to put the diminutive destructor. He thought that if someone came looking for it his room would be too obvious a choice as a place to ransack. But he also wanted the ability to retrieve it quickly if necessary. So, it would have to be somewhere near the front door, just like rural settlers kept their favorite gun two hundred years prior. But, they had it easier as they were only concerned with snakes, coyotes and an occasional misguided cougar; none a concern to use a weapon. He couldn't come up with anything he considered good. In search of a new idea he recalled an old film noir movie wherein the man-on-the-run said that the best place to hide was in plain sight. He put in in a kitchen drawer which stored the computer parts, adapters and routers that he had been hoarding like a pack rat for decades. Though his daughter and her husband had periodically been after him to dispose of the "junk," it was still his house. He insisted that one never knows when they're going to need a spare part and that the space had no other purpose anyway.

He got back to the house just as Joshua did, openly went to the drawer and deposited the "silver bullet." Joshua's wasn't paying much attention as he was thinking of his own problems and the last he knew of the gun, it was with Becky. Grandpa angrily said; "You just had to come here with all your ****, didn't ya?" as he slammed the kitchen drawer.

Joshua held up his hands in front of his chest and shook his head "No," as he sighed deeply and eyed the floor.

Grandpa repeated; "Didn't ya?"

"I didn't make this situation. If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else. Someone worse. I just killed the second 'scout.'"

"I heard. And you Elis have the audacity to say that Earthlings are a violent species."

Joshua didn't have any immediate argument, as he had previously considered his people illogical in the same regard. After a few seconds he went back to basics and said; "Everything tries to stay alive. You too."

"******* guns. *** **** ******* guns."

"My sentiments precisely. But, after the technology is invented what the **** can you do? There's no road back."

Grandpa snorted and said; "My sentiments precisely. I don't ******* know."

Joshua thought that the subject was talked out, so he changed it saying; "So, let me make a wild guess. Becky gave you the 'silver bullet' and you stuck it in the drawer."

"Oh, ****."

"Don't worry. I won't take it and I won't tell anybody. ............. Actually, that wasn't a bad idea. Who would look there?"

"You."

"I don't think so. I supposed that Becky would give it to you and I just saw you put it there."

"Now I'll have to move it. It's hard to find a good spot."

"Don't do it on my account. I promised Becky that I would trust her and I will. I also promised her that I'd find a way out of this mess. That'll be the hard part."

Becky entered the kitchen and stood quietly next to the two men. Joshua asked; "May I have the rocket back. I'll probably be getting some calls."

She solemnly said; "Sure," went back to her room and brought it back. She handed it to Joshua and he pocketed it with the other.

Joshua said; "I've got to try to clear my head," and went out the door. He walked into the desert and when he got two miles from the house, took the rocket out and crumpled it in his hands in anger. As it was only the consistency of a light plastic, he broke it up easily and then used his controller to mash it into tiny particles, grinding it against the sole of his shoe. He mixed the particles with some sand and continued walking, dispersing some here and some there. The result was that it was now visually indistinguishable from the rest of the infinite supply of desert sand and he was pleased. He knew he could have easily disposed of it with his efficient and impersonal "silver bullet," but he wanted the tactile pleasure of doing the job manually. He slowly walked back home temporarily satisfied with the "hands on" complete destruction of Ares, yet fully aware that the work remaining would prove a greater challenge.

He went to his room and flopped on the bed. He closed his eyes hoping to sleep, but was disturbed by Cronos' voice saying; "Come in. Come in."

Joshua responded; "I'm here. I'm still here."

As Cronos thought he had called to one of the transmitters on Ares' rocket he was surprised to hear Joshua's voice and said; "Where is Ares?"

"Is he supposed to be here?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. I haven't seen him. Maybe he didn't land in Waco. Maybe he lost his memory like I did from the flight and is aimlessly wandering somewhere. That constant barrage of light-dark, light-dark does something to the brain. Or maybe he never made it."

Cronos strongly suspected that Joshua was lying, but didn't divulge his skepticism. He thought it likely that Joshua effectively disposed of Ares as he had hoped, but thought it imprudent and unproductive to infer that Joshua was being dishonest with him. What game was he playing? But he was glad that it was his man again on the job. He said; "All for the best. You're in fine shape I take it."

"My memory is back. I know what I'm supposed to be doing here."

"Good, good. I'll look forward to receiving regular reports from you."

"Right."

To falsely show that he believed Joshua's story, he said; "Keep an eye out for Ares. He can be tricky."

"I definitely will."

### Chapter 11

ELI, 6-15-98476. 6-15-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

Cronos thought that it was probable that Joshua had killed Ares, but didn't want to confess to the murder of a Very Important Person, as would be reasonably expected from a competent player. But he also knew it was possible that Ares never made it to Earth and if he did, he might be wandering around with a lost memory. In any event Ares was out of the way for now and expediency dictated that it was time to recoup losses. He couldn't determine if the rocket that Joshua now had was equipped with three transmitters or one until he got to Earth, unless he wanted to risk petitioning the freaky Completions. Further reflection on the matter made him decide that the "facts" were irrelevant and of primary importance was that his man was back on the heroic job. .................... Yet, there was something disturbing the hair at the base of his neck.

Since he, at least temporarily, did not have the ability to shrink and get in the rocket Joshua had no way of knowing that he mistakenly retained Ares' rocket with three transmitters. His reports of Earth weaponry and locations suited the Eli predisposition of eradicating the monkeys as they had nothing to compete with Eli "silver bullets" of varying sizes. The most potent of the Earthling arsenal were weapons capable of blowing up huge territories; property destructors, like the one which probably caused the Eli "First Great Disaster;" all the more reason to dispatch of them. Cronos was unaware that he was being fed publicly known information, readily available on the Internet, while Joshua maximized his time with Becky and Grandpa. He was enjoying himself immensely and tried to forget the realities of superior Eli power. So did they.

After Ares was not located for three days, Cronos launched his media campaign, aimed at advertising the success of "his" program. An Eli could not go anywhere without being reminded of how Cronos Titanby and the Eli Galactic Department were primarily responsible for ensuring their safety. It was on TV, installed as a public service announcement prior to movies, shown as "news" on internet search engines, written on buses, billboards, and public garbage cans. In their minds the cynical Elis guessed that this was an obvious oversell, but with the fear for their lives firmly in place, they were ready to grab at any lifeline straw.

On prime time Eli TV, Cronos sat with interviewer Katy Smilowitz; his self-satisfied countenance only besmirched by his constant fidgeting with his thin and below-the-belt-buckle tie. Katy gave him a smile which seemed to cover half her otherwise bland face, then glanced at and shuffled her cards. She said; "I understand that the mission is going well."

"Yes, Katy. Joshua Foucalt had a temporary bout with amnesia, most likely caused by the rigors of the flight. But he's fine now and has been issuing regular reports."

"Is there any news concerning Ares Jarrod?"

Cronos shook his head sadly, looking at the floor and said; "No, Katy. I'm afraid not. Though we still hold out hope, we think it likely that he didn't ever make it to Earth. In any case he is a true Eli hero and I am nominating him for membership in the Patriots Hall of Fame. Kids should always remember." He scratched his cheek and tried to give the impression that he was holding back an anathema emotion.

"Do you have any information as to what happened?"

"Nothing the least bit concrete. Ares did not have the flight experience of Joshua and going at that speed he might not have been able to avoid one of the many obstacles in uncharted space. While we were always in contact with Joshua, even when he wasn't making any sense, we have lost all contact with Ares."

"What are we learning of Earth?"

"Many things, some best left out of the public arena for a while. But, I can tell you that regarding armaments they are still in the 'explosive era,' much like we were prior to The First Great Disaster."

"That could be a problem, correct?"

"Not really. Their storage sites are publicly known. We might be aware of all of them already through the work of Joshua. All we have to do is 'go in small' and undetected in our rockets and annihilate them all at once with our 'silver bullets.'" He shrugged confidently.

"You make it sound easy."

"It will be. They'll be completely disarmed before they know what hit them."

"But, they'll have the knowledge of how to rebuild."

"Without a model to copy, building those kinds of weapons takes an extraordinarily long time, unlike ours which can be rolled off the duplication machines in a matter of hours. But, to be completely safe, in addition to their violent nature this is another reason why we will eliminate them."

"I don't mean to sound unpatriotic, but isn't that a bit harsh?"

"Katy, it's a tough universe. How would you like it if you lived next door to an Earthling who went crazy with his gun?"

Katy put her hand on Cronos' knee and said; "I'm sorry I asked that. It was written on one of my cards." She angrily peered at someone off stage.

With a straight face Cronos said; "Perhaps you will give me some names after the show?"

"Yes. ...... Yes. ...... Of course. Well, how is the building of the evacuation ships coming?"

"Very well. We are near finishing the first 'Mass Transport,' if you will. Once the first is done it won't take long to get it into mass production. Our technology can duplicate anything, with only the slightest of possible glitches."

Has any thought been given to seating priorities. Some "Darky" editorialists have suggested that ........."

Cronos cut her off, mildly saying; "I'm aware of the malcontents fussing at a time of global crisis, when co-operation is the order of the day. The prototype vehicle seats three thousand shrunken Elis. If my math is correct, this means that the escape ships will be about sixty feet long, seating four across. We'll be quickly making ten thousand of them at no great cost so that every Eli has his very own seat. We're not even considering the possibility of one ship making multiple trips. There is no reason for anyone to worry. The main priority is being assured that all Earth mass weapons are eliminated shortly after our peaceful population arrives. And as I've said, the information regarding that mission is coming in well and to our liking."

Katy made a wide ingratiating smile and said; "Thank you for being with us." When she incorrectly thought they were off camera she said; "I have a few names for you. Some of the writers are so ******* liberal it's embarrassing to read their garbage."

ESPERANZA, ARIZONA, 6-15-2058

Becky turned ten. Her Mom and Dad threw a little party for her also attended by Joshua, Grandpa, Miguel and Anna; two migrant workers from Mexico staying at the rooming house. At 12PM the tiny tornado descended the stairs dazzling in her blue and white polka dot dress. Her long brown hair was tied back with a red ribbon and she had attached recently cut lavender chrysanthemums above both her ears. The guests were waiting, seated at the kitchen table, with the head seat of honor waiting for her. She sat to the off-beat rendition of "Happy birthday," and graciously thanked the vocalists. She made a wish which Joshua correctly guessed and blew out the ten tiny blue candles in two tries.

Becky looked to Joshua and said; "I think I earned my wish. Am I correct?"

Joshua was startled by the question, didn't expect to hear it in mixed company and hesitated before answering; "Maybe not today. But, it will come soon. I promise"

The interchange puzzled Dad. But, he chose not to bog down the festivities in arcane inquiries, got up and said; "I'm going to cut the cake. Don't you want to see your presents?"

Becky said a lackluster; "Yes," and proceeded to open the fancily wrapped boxes on the table.

Mom looked at her strangely, wondering why her daughter wasn't more enthused on her special day. As far as she knew Becky had gotten everything she asked for.

Joshua felt terrible about the likely eventuality and wracked his brain to come up with something. He sat silently and watched Becky watching him. He felt like both inadequate and a liar and averted his eyes from the child's unmitigated clarity. He thought about Becky and Grandpa; more specifically he kept imagining their obliteration. Though he tried to keep that image out of his head, matters were not entirely in his control. After the party he went directly to the desert to be alone and let his mind wander in a purposeful way. He thought; "What would stop the Elis from obliterating the people of Earth? ......... That they were peaceful? ....... They know that they're not. There's no way to hide that. And even if they were it might not stop them. ........ That there was something to be gained from Earthlings? ........ What? ....... By definition, their existence dictates compromises. ....... At best. ....... That some, like Becky and Grandpa are heartwarming? ........ If important Elis wanted their hearts warmed, they'd push the red button. Others don't have any say so over matters of policy. ...... That Earth has comparable or superior weapons? ........ Elis understand power and subterfuge better than anything else. ...... That would make them back off, as under no circumstances would logical Elis initiate a conflict without the certainty of a pre-determined and overwhelming victory. ......... But, Earth weaponry consists of items suitable for an Eli museum. ........ But, Cronos isn't certain of that. ...... That's why I'm here. ....... Supposedly. ................................. Maybe I can make the Elis think that Earth has comparable weapons."

Joshua got an idea. He thought it through, amended it, considered the possible results, amended it again and again, and then settled on it. He decided that it was his best chance at keeping his promise and that it couldn't make matters any worse. He needed some trustworthy help with a flair to pull it off and he rushed back home to find Grandpa.

Grandpa was sitting on the porch as usual and Joshua sat next to him and blabbered like Becky. "I've got it, but I need your help. You have to say that you saw a light streak down and land in the desert on the day of Ares' flight, June ninth. You investigated and found a tiny man wandering around. The little man had some kind of potent weapon, seemed deranged and didn't want to be bothered. You saw him blow away a prickly pear and decided it best to leave him alone. You told no one because you were afraid of being labeled senile. However, you have recently seen some destruction near the house and are fearful for the family safety."

Grandpa chuckled, wondered if Joshua buried the wine bottle in the sand, was nonplussed, politely waited to hear more and when he didn't flatly said; "What good is that going to do?"

"It will become public knowledge. It'll be news. People will come to investigate. Of course they won't find anything, but I'll have it documented that something happened. I can tell the Elis that it's very possible that Ares has been captured and that America may now have his "silver bullet." It's easy for them to duplicate on their Warhols and if the powers that be on Eli think they might meet a formidable opponent they will not risk an attack."

With an air of disbelief Grandpa said; "You really think this will work?"

"It's the best shot we have and there isn't a thing to lose in trying."

Grandpa looked into the desert a while, shook his head, then said; "I don't know. It seems like drawing at imaginary straws."

"Versus certain annihilation of your species? Becky won't live to grow up. You want that?"

"I wish there was something better."

"The Elis are a pragmatic uncaring people. All they understand is power and their own interest and you are overwhelmingly outgunned. They think they are gods. My boss is named Cronos and the President is Zeus."

"I'll report the sighting to the State Police tomorrow and try not to let the laughter bother me."

Joshua slapped him on the knee and said; "Good man. Think of Becky. I'm going to tell her right now and then I'm going to get to Waco."

"And leave me holding the bag?"

"I can't be associated with this place. It would raise a lot of suspicion about the story on Eli. Besides, I've told Cronos that I was in Waco."

Grandpa glumly nodded and Joshua went to Becky's room. He knocked at the closed door and Becky faintly said; "Entre vous." She sat in the center of her bed surrounded by her favorite birthday present; a six volume set of "Honeywell's Film Guide," which purported to give a brief synopsis and rating of every film of significance made in America. Foreign films which received American distribution were also covered. She closed the volume in her lap and said; "The French don't make movies like us. They're more personal."

"On Eli Darkie movies tend to be despairing."

"Darkie? Like noir?"

"Yes and no. I guess I never told you of the two groups of Elis; Sunnies are always in the light and are cheery and Darkies dwell in the shadows and are glum."

"Let me guess. You're a Darkie."

Joshua smiled and said; "Actually I'm a Sunny. If you think I'm bad, wait till you meet a real Darkie."

"Your skin is on the dark side. That's probably why Dad first thought you were a migrant farm worker."

"It's strange. Real Darkies actually have pale skin."

Becky stared at him.

"Many surface things are different there, kind of like Earth in a warped and discolored mirror. But, so what? Eli is a thing of the past. Earth is the future." He squeezed her bare knee and she giggled, while he continued; "So, tell me more about French movies."

"Well, I just started to learn about it ten minutes ago. They're just different. Different actors. Different directors. And the stories are more personal and adult."

"And at the grand old age of ten, you like that better?"

"I didn't say that. I just said different."

Joshua elevated and said; "I stand corrected, my princess." When he saw a hint of a smile, he said; "I have something serious to tell you." He went on to tell her the plan he had just worked out with Grandpa and that he had to leave for Waco.

Becky got off the bed and hugged Joshua. She cried into his stomach. He knelt and she saw that he too had moist eyes. Becky tearfully questioned; "I hate to see you go. I knew it would happen one day. It always does. Why does it have to be a lie?"

Joshua held her left hand with his and answered; "I don't understand either. We didn't create this mess. We just have to figure out some way of living in it. Maybe it's something like fighting fire with fire."

"I've heard that phrase, but I've never heard of any firemen actually doing that."

"Well, maybe I'll be the first." Joshua smiled and continued in a childish voice; "After all, I was the first Eli on Earth, and that wasn't an easy thing to do either."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I hope so. ....... I mean, sure. I want to see you grown up, married, with kids and dogs all over the place. But, right now we have to pretend that we never knew each other to give the lie a chance of being effective."

They both breathed deeply while holding hands. Joshua kissed her cheek, left her room, picked up his belongings, rented a car and started for Waco in the dark silence. Becky lay in bed and for the first time thought that she hated the entirety of the universe.

### Chapter 12

Joshua's decision to go to Waco was to protect the Hawleys from any subsequent Eli investigation, to allow his scheme a better chance of being effective and to familiarize himself with the place, as this was where he told Cronos, though in sarcasm undetected by his boss, as the place where he was. He didn't play the radio as he wanted to get as mentally vacant as possible under a cloud-hidden moon, hoping to have no blockages from the quiet intelligence of the universe. The only light he could see was that of the headlights of his cream Chevy compact; the only sound that of the engine hum. He hoped some insightful thought would invade his perplexed head.

Both the light and sound seemed magnified with no competition present and Joshua unconsciously thought that he could see and hear everything that was now relevant. But, he wanted to know "Why?" He snorted a chuckle at himself as he recalled that he had been asking this question since he was a little brat and in 35 years had gotten no answer. More than ever, this time he really wanted to know as he was putting himself in the position of being viewed as a traitor to his species. Species! No one else had managed to be this bad. There were traitors to countries, traitors to factions, traitors to people and traitors to families. But, never a whole ******* species. He thought that he was on the road to infamy of the highest order. Quite an accomplishment for a snot-nosed boy from the provinces. The names Joshua and Foucalt would perish in the reality of my life reality and live only in textbook blurbs. Let the chips fall as they may as he thought that he was clearly right. The Elis didn't have to wipe out all Earthlings to live on Earth. Maybe a select few, but certainly not all. He was reminded of the Eli contradiction of considering themselves peaceful people, yet enforcing that with the numbing controllers and the exterminating "Peace Corps." And they thought nothing of killing sweet little Earthling girls and their kindly grandfathers. If that's what I'm a traitor to, I'm proud to be called that. **** the ************ ********.

He realized that he had sort of gotten a "why" answered. It worked well on a personal level, but still didn't shed light on the larger questions. He got over that quickly when he recalled that no one else found out anything either. Sure, there are always those who have claimed to have answers; like religions and politicians, only to be revised years later. At least the Elis were fully aware of that aspect of "truth." His thoughts crystallized in; "I know as much about the entire scheme of things as anyone ever did. Nothing. I have a plan that could save billions of good Earthlings. This is no time to be reflective. It's time for perfect execution."

Joshua's mind again went blank, but this time with a feeling of contentment rather than a vague unease. He thought through his plan and tried to envision every possible glitch and how he might handle them.

Time passed quickly and he saw a sign indicating "WACO" and in smaller letters; "HOME OF THE FEDERAL MASSACRE OF RELIGION." As any Eli, Joshua found humor in the thought that the two premier organized frauds were openly engaged in conflict. On second thought he wondered if it was still going on; didn't want to be on either side or be an innocent bystander, and checked his pocket for his "silver bullet." He thought; "I might have to put a few assholes out of their misery. I wish the ******* sun would rise."

It did as he cruised the flat, sandy, big sky town, looking for a boarding house. He found one bordering on the muddy Brazos River. As soon as he registered he received a call from Cronos and delivered his expected "intelligence" report.

After spending a month in Waco the ensuing day, he started to drive to New York City. It was prompted by both a personal curiosity and a desire not to be considered remiss in his duties.

ESPERANZA, ARIZONA, 6-16-2058 AND THE US SHORTLY THEREAFTER

Grandpa kept his promise and at 8AM he called the state police. They disgruntledly came and found nothing, but in the course of their investigation they found five other people who recalled seeing a streaking light that night.

Esperanza Mayor Carlos Gutierrez was made aware of the report and thought it was a lot of nonsense, but saw an opportunity for a town economic jolt, as that caused by the trekkers to supposedly UFO visited Roswell, New Mexico. He personally confirmed the story with a first-hand account of the little destructive man saying that he did not come forward with the story as, he too, feared becoming an unelectable UFO believer-nut, but now that he was in good company he was boldly telling the truth.

The State Police left without any tangible evidence, but over the next few days there were more sightings of the horrible little man and it seemed like half the town saw something not of this world.

The "news" spread from local papers, to the internet, to state papers and to prime time TV news with Matt. The federal government was concerned with the weapon and any other advanced technology which might be in Esperanza. They sent in an investigative team who closed off the area, which served to attract professional UFO "experts," who filled their internet blogs and websites with outraged stories of another government cover up. At the site they chanted; "Roswell, never again. Roswell, never again," while they marched the boundaries, thereby becoming their own news story, which they embellished with their own "observations."

At a Presidential press conference, spokesperson Mary Fabricant denied that the US investigators had "yet" found anything, but that the area was to remain closed as the investigation continued to avoid "contamination." In her closing unquestioned remarks she volunteered that the US has the technology in place for the production of advanced "space age" weaponry, though added that this had nothing to do with the goings on in Esperanza.

This statement was the result of a recommendation by the right-wing think tank, "Citizens for an Informed America," and was approved by President Francis (Call me Frank, please) X. Stabile, primarily in an effort to scare the fight out of China, Russia, Japan, the European Economic Union and any miniscule upstart considering aggression.

Becky and Grandpa were the beneficiaries of a political and communications education known to the few, but which they could never divulge. They did have a great time laughing at items carried in the news which Mom and Dad couldn't quite understand. In quiet moments they prayed that Joshua's lie would work.

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK. 6-22-58

Joshua had spent his first few days exploring Manhattan. The skyscrapers reminded him of big cities on Eli. The fast-moving-people's skin tones prompted him to think of Sunnies and Darkies, but also weird gradations in between, and something new to him; yellow ones. As Eli had been almost completely segregated for centuries, he wondered why there was no readily apparent conflict in overstuffed Manhattan, which was allegedly a part of the "violent" Earth. However, the people seemed more distant than they were in Esperanza, engrossed in their own business, and were completely uninterested in the travails of another transient. Maybe this had something to do with it. Still, he found it disconcerting and he tried saying "Hello" to a number of people and was generally greeted with a look of derision, if any at all. He did manage to strike up a few short lived conversations and found out that in each of those he was speaking to people from elsewhere visiting. Did these New Yorkers consider themselves above the rest? Maybe. Did they hate everyone? There was no open conflict. Were they Eli clones insofar as they were totally indifferent? Perhaps. He thought that he had to know, as he still had time to make adjustments in the finer points of his recommendations.

He approached people and told them that he was visiting and that he needed help in finding the Empire State Building. He subsequently upped the degree of difficulty and said he wanted to find the Statue of Liberty. He was somewhat surprised to see that people who were ready to brush right by him, without a second glance were more than willing to stop and talk when he said he needed help. In the course of soliciting that assistance, he got into some medium length conversations and was told that the reason he had been ignored was one he had not considered; they were afraid of him; not because they knew he was an alien; but because they were accustomed to being accosted by thieves and scam artists. One elderly Manhattanite told him that he wouldn't be surprised if one-third of the people on the street had done time and the best way to stay out of trouble is to "keep moving and look as if you know where you're going."

There was no way for Joshua to verify the man's estimate and his initial reaction was that it seemed high. Further reflection suggested that this would indeed be a good explanation for the Manhattan burghers' fear of contact with strangers. But, was it true or an erroneous mass belief? In some sense it really didn't matter, as right or wrong, this was what the locals believed was true and they acted accordingly; no different than a religious Jew going to temple or a religious Catholic going to church. They believe what they believe, and search for "facts" to confirm it, much like eyewitness testimony to a flat world. Belief tends to beget evidence. So, he decided that the "indifferent" Manhattanites were not like the big city Elis and merely were practicing their own kind of religion based on their belief that the others were unscrupulous. "We are God's people. The others are not." Akin to the preponderance of Elis in one colossal regard, Joshua wasn't religious at all, but he didn't consider a believer evil; just one in need of a new rabbi's teachings for further evolution.

Today he sat in his hotel room very contented that the reaction to Grandpa's story was going as well as possibly could have been imagined. Joshua waited for Cronos to ring him on the rocket to give him the news.

At 10AM the rocket called. Joshua said; "On duty, sir," and clicked his heels like a mock attentive soldier.

"Report."

"Report's going to be a bit different today. The current news is that the US government has either killed or captured Ares and that they are already duplicating his "silver bullet. Their Warhol machines are excellent."

Silence was "The Law's" response as he considered it more likely that Joshua had killed him. But he also realized that his own stature was dependent on the reliability of his main man and that if he ignored the information, Joshua had access to Zeus and Marshall. He wondered if they hadn't already been told. He decided to mouth a platitude which was directed where Joshua seemed to be going. He said; "All too often military action is necessary. However, it should always be remembered that whenever there is military conflict the ultimate outcome is always less than satisfactory for ALL sides."

Joshua didn't expect that response; at least not this early in the report. He wondered what kind of game Cronos was playing. He supposed that Cronos did not fully trust him. He considered not agreeing with the conclusion he wanted Cronos to come to, hoping that Cronos would espouse it. But, he decided that this approach was riskier than the subterfuge he had already started and that Cronos trusted no one fully, anyway. He followed suit with; "We might be fortunate in that respect. I think the information suggests a peaceful migration for the benefit of all Elis. The logic is there, and if Earth attacks we can quickly reassess."

Cronos reversed his field, but put the thought into the mouths of others, saying; "The powers that be will not want to hear this."

"What other choice do they have? Risking oblivion?"

Cronos saw personal advantage in the communication of this information, as it would make one of his competitors, Marshall, look even worse than he already did with his falsely suspected prompt of Ares', and thereby the Military's, self-serving news conference. He also knew that in committee Military Marshall would espouse war even when logic dictated otherwise, and appear as a one-dimensional functionary out to raise the importance of that function at everyone else's peril. He again reversed direction and said; "You're doing a fine job and I agree with your conclusion. It's unfortunate that the competent and honest messenger bringing bad news is often killed."

Joshua was not sure if the last commentary was straightforward, sarcastic or if it was sarcasm of sarcasm. He took the best road open to him; a straight joke; and said; "Well, be careful when you tell the committee. I wouldn't want to have to break in another boss."

Cronos gruffly said; "I'll handle it," and hung up.

ACCEPTANCE, ELI, 6-23-98476. 6-23-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

Cronos Titanby arranged an emergency meeting of the highest Eli officials; President Zeus Indiffant, State Director Seth Recreat, Military Director Marshall Ordnance, Finance Director Brigitte Chance, and Legal Director Prometheus Blaze. The seldom cleaned, twenty-fifth floor room in the downtown skyscraper's single most notable aspect was dust. It could be seen settling persistently down en masse in the light filtering in from the ceiling skylight. Zeus used a finger to write his name in capital letters on the heavily and dully lacquered mahogany desk. Marshall drummed all of his four right hand fingers and watched the powder fly as he used his left four to anxiously rub the lower half of his face, anxious to hear the next "story" brought by old Cronos. The other attendees absently gazed from one wall painting to the next, then went around again, expecting not to have much of a part in the discussion.

Cronos walked in at top speed, slamming the door behind him and said; "My apologies for being late. I was just on the phone with Joshua Foucalt, as I wanted to come here with the most current information." He actually enjoyed making them wait as it was highly unlikely, given its nature, that any relevant intelligence would be gathered at the last minute.

He sat and Zeus said; "Proceed."

"Thank you for your indulgence. I asked for this meeting, as I believe the new facts discovered dictate a significant change in plans." The chairs creaked as the others shuffled in them. They grimaced and braced themselves.

"My man, Joshua Foucalt has informed me of the likelihood of Earth now having weapons comparable to ours. There are reports of the Unites States government capturing an alien and having access to a new arms technology."

Zeus said; "Credible?"

"Sufficiently credible to warrant our consideration."

Marshall Ordnance immediately saw the likely outcome of the new information and recognized it as contrary to his personal importance. He scowled and articulated; "It seems to me that this is very convenient for the Earthlings and that your information is based entirely on the say so of one man, who was admittedly "not all there" a short time ago."

Cronos actually welcomed the anticipated dismissive commentary and answered; "I'm not going to debate the merits of my man. He did experience a memory loss upon landing. But, I will say that the problem was caused by the less than professional manner in which your man handled the same task. He has either been captured or killed and they have his "silver bullet" and are Warhol ling (duplicating) it. That is precisely what caused the necessity of this meeting."

Marshall didn't expect the commentary and was unprepared to register a reasonable response. He felt as if he was living out his worst nightmare; starting out as heroic rescuer and then being viewed as incompetent; then incompetent to the point of idiocy and risk to Eli life. He sought to distance himself from Ares and said; "Ares ****** up. How was I supposed to predict that? He was my top man."

Cronos couldn't resist saying; "I'd hate to meet the rest."

Zeus interjected; "All right, all right. Let's just deal with the situation. .............. He questioned Cronos about his degree of certainty in what he had said. Cronos wisely resisted adamancy but made a case for reasonable likelihood, and logically erred on the side of caution at the risk to Eli life. He knew that individual Eli life was not a compelling issue to Zeus in and of itself, but without any he would have nothing to govern.

Seth, Brigitte and Prometheus said nothing; their eyes diverting from the gray, plasticized, asbestos drop ceiling to their hand sized computers sitting on the desk. Though there was an occasional smirk at the point scoring of Cronos, their overall demeanor was that of boredom, as the conclusion seemed obvious, given Cronos' second hand testimony.

Zeus decreed; "Cronos, I believe your point is well taken. Further investigation can and will be pursued when more of us get to Earth. The first ships will be ready in ten days. Correct, Marshall? Or did one of your best people **** that one up too?"

Marshall stoically watched whatever was in front of his blank eyes and said; "Ten days is still the expectation."

Zeus followed with; "Good. Unless there are any objections, this will be a peaceful migration, until we know better." He only heard the faint insectile whirr of palm pilots. He said; "Meeting concluded."

ELI, 7-4-98476. 7-4-2058 EARTH CALENDAR

The first three evacuation ships, seating three thousand Elis each, departed for Earth. For identification purposes, they were marked with palm tattoos depicting a simple black club, a replica of that found in a deck of playing cards. The launch pad was a scene of chaos as split families said goodbye to their more powerful and therefore higher priority relatives. "Darkies" glowered at the "Sunny" only seating, but didn't do or say anything, fearing a visit from the Peace Corps or being "forgotten" on Eli.

LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK.

Since they were very noticeable at full size and the prey of everything on Earth if they remained tiny, the Elis introduced themselves. This was their instruction; the most diplomatic and reserved setting the tone for a peaceful stay and knowing that Immigration's authority ended at deportation, an impossible remedy.

Initially, Earthlings didn't believe them as the residents of Los Angeles, Fort Lauderdale and Dallas drank and celebrated Independence Day. They thought these "Elis" had a few too many or were planning some kind of scam. But, in a few hours, some credence was put in their story as text messaging and e-mails flurried and news people descended on the newcomers, and were shown the Elis' chips and controllers. The media stories generally were tongue-in-cheek belief and many Earthlings who put credence in the unlikely story didn't like the idea of newcomers one little bit.

In Dallas, a forty year old, unemployed drunkard named Robby Allison needed some information and to his chagrin, his parents had gone somewhere, mostly in consideration of the fact that Robby was home. He called one of his drinking buddies, "Ace" Chandler, who worked part time as a Legal Assistant, and was advised that there was no law against killing something non-human. Of course this wasn't entirely true, but "Ace" liked to show that he was as smart as the schooled lawyers and often made broad generalizations. Robby liked to show that he was a man of action (In actuality his actions averaged 1.32 per year, but this is high in drunken bum circles.) rather than one of books, told "Ace" of his plans and asked if his "partner" had any interest in going on the adventure of a lifetime.

Bobby liked what he heard and added a few shots to what he had already consumed as he now knew his purpose in life and needed the courage to fulfill his destiny. He carefully and slowly drove downtown and crashed an Eli press conference in Deely Square. He pushed his way through the throng and got to the front. At the edge of the platform, he yelled; "America for the Americans," and used his pistol to shoot three Elis before being tackled and pinned by people nearby in the crowd. Pandemonium ensued as most attendees tried to get out of the place quickly. Those not near the platform didn't know if the shooter had been subdued and no one knew if there was another gunman or two still around. They succeeded in knocking each other down and screaming as sirens put their thoughts on the matter into the air, drowning out the rest.

Eli blood spurted and as the wounded hit the ground, they were amazed at how the blood gushed, like pressurized water from a punctured pipe, no more no less, color being the only difference. This occupied their minds almost as much as their fear of pain and death. It had been generations since any Eli had experienced this.

## END OF FIRST EPISODE

### Chapter 13

Lurching police cars and ambulances stuttered through the stunned crowd, most of which lay on the grass, either injured in the attempted mass exit or hoping to keep out of the line of fire. Drivers yelled brusque instructions to get out of the way, as they single file, slowly worked their way through the densely populated lawn to the makeshift platform. Six sweating and edgy cops exited their vehicles with revolvers drawn. They were frantically called to by three men on the ground who were sitting on the shooter, Robby Allison, one of the sitters holding the hot gun.

The officers pointed their weapons at the gun holder and one screamed; "Drop it right now!"

The holder looked wide-eyed and said; "I got it from him."

"Drop it asshole!"

He dropped it and one officer kicked it away, then put it in a plastic bag, saying; "Thanks for contaminating the evidence."

"What was I supposed to do? Let him keep shooting?"

The cops grabbed Robby and brought him to his feet. One cuffed his hands behind his back as another read him his rights. The shooter was mad as hell and with spittle drooling from his mouth said; "You don't have to read me that crap. I did it and I'm proud that I did. If these alien loving traitors didn't stop me I'd have shot them all." He scanned the audience expecting applause which was not forthcoming. Though many were tempted to register their appreciation, none dared be the first, and as a consequence they furtively glanced at each other waiting for approval and overt Robby stood alone and unheralded.

The Emergency Medical Technicians got the three wounded Elis onto stretchers and into the ambulances. It was with difficulty as the wounded resisted being taken by these strangely attired Earthlings in mouth-covering-masks and clown reminiscent clothes. The thought crossed their minds that they might be being taken somewhere for further mistreatment, but were too weak to put up much of a struggle. Other Elis watched in a state of shock, crouching and peering around, scanning for more possible shooters.

In Esperanza, Arizona, Becky and Grandpa sat in her room, eating potato chips, drinking ice tea and were watching a retro TV station. It was Becky's favorite program and she smiled at the set as the young female star made her way to Minneapolis to "make it after all." The screen went blank and then reappeared with a seemingly harried and out of breath, puzzled looking newsman on the spot in Dallas' Deely Square, who relayed the bizarre events of the day. "Three people, who claim to be from the planet Eli ........... We're not yet certain where that is ............... were shot and critically wounded. Dallas Police have identified the alleged assailant as Robby Allison, an unemployed area resident, who proudly admitted the shooting, saying that America is for the Americans. Eyewitnesses state that the victims appeared as if they were either light skinned blacks or dark Latinos. There were a number of reports by people who said that they saw another man with a gun and Dallas Police have closed off the area and are doing a house by house search. Another question is how Allison could have known that the victims were aliens, and if indeed they are. For the moment it is being considered a hate crime. Preacher Alvin Blunt, a prominent black leader based in New York is on his way to Dallas. One of our East Coast affiliates has quoted him as saying; "The racists have invented a new reason to be killing black people. We're aliens. ********. I suppose the victims will be required to prove that they are not from the planet ........ the planet Eli, or wherever the **** they say we came from. I got some news for these ignorant *******-******** ......."

Becky stopped smiling, turned to her Grandpa and solemnly said; "It's started."

Grandpa thought of a very old movie titled "The Beginning of the End," but kept the thought to himself. He searched for words, but none came. He just looked at Becky with his mouth slightly open and imagined her imperiled future.

She said; "I hope they didn't get Joshua."

The news got back to Eli TV as quickly as it got to American TV. However, having some knowledge Earthlings do not and having had the assistance of an official Eli government spin, the report was correct, but stated somewhat differently.

A calm and almost bemused, fortyish, male reporter said; "We have an update regarding the Eli exodus to Earth. All three rockets containing approximately nine thousand Elis have arrived safely." He paused and smiled at the camera, then continued; "As instructed, the spokespersons announced that we are not of their planet, but come in peace out of necessity ............ as our sun is dying. Contingents have gone to Los Angeles, Fort Lauderdale and Dallas and we have received reports of warm welcomes and curiosity. We have also received unconfirmed reports of a minor incident in Dallas involving three Elis. It is said that they have been shot with a small caliber pistol by a forty year old, unemployed, deranged Mama's boy. Police have him in custody after having been assisted in his capture by the outraged crowd. The victims have been taken to Lovelace Dallas General Hospital and are said to be in good condition. The three actually refused treatment, but the Earth emergency medical technicians insisted for precautionary reasons. The most prominent American Civil Rights leader, the Preacher Alvin Blunt, has flown to Dallas and has made it his business to see that Eli rights are enforced and that the deranged man is prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Here in Sunny Eli, President Zeus Indiffant issued the following message; "While it was an unfortunate incident, we are confident that the victims will soon recover. We are pleased with the Earth authorities' response and very encouraged by that of Preacher Blunt. Our departure will continue on schedule. We should count our blessings that with a dangerous interplanetary mission involving nine thousand Elis there was only one minor incident. I'd call that success. There will be one minor change. We will go in small and return to full size gradually. I think you can all appreciate how you would feel if thirty million aliens showed up here one day and said that this was their home."

The typical cynical Eli said or thought; "********. Something terrible happened. I wonder if they're dead."

Prior to the PR announcement Eli's five greatest powers held a secret meeting; secret to those not paying any attention; which is the political majority. However the masses might have enjoyed seeing their "representatives" in a tizzy. They showed more worry, emotion and boisterous language than they had since the time a national political newcomer, Huey Brief, a rustic from the provinces, ran on a platform of wealth re-distribution and term limits for all government offices. He got extremely popular, virtually having sown up the entirety of the provincial vote, and was predicted to win a by a close margin. But, after surviving numerous assassination attempts, he disappeared without a trace while visiting the capitol. Order was restored to the elite faces and demeanors as no other seeker of high office has dared to be so bold.

Zeus was absolutely livid, his face the color of claret, with a popping and pulsating vein dividing his forehead into two unequally proportioned hemispheres. He pointed a shaking finger at Cronos and said; "Your man recommends a peaceful habitation. Where the **** is the peace?"

Cronos opened his mouth though he had no idea of what would come out. It didn't matter as Zeus yelled; "I don't want to hear a ******* thing."

Marshall Ordnance saw the opportunity for glory and said; "Taking the humans out would be easy. We surprise them and go in small with one hundred of my men armed with "silver bullets. We blast the military installations and where Earthlings congregate; big cities, office buildings, malls and religious institutions. Within a couple of hours we'll have eradicated the major weapons and half the population."

Cronos said; "How about the small arms?"

Marshall said; "No big ****. Little by little."

Cronos said; "No big ****! How many Elis will get plugged?"

Zeus said; "Shut up," intending it to apply to both parties.

Cronos took it personally and retorted; "Then I may as well leave."

Zeus said; "Feel free," and Cronos remained in his chair, scratching his eyelid with his middle finger.

Zeus continued and said to grinning Marshall Ordnance; "I don't know what the hell you're grinning at. Your best man is worse than Cronos' ****. He couldn't even get to the ******* place. I'd hate to think of how many ways your men could screw up the operation you described and how many Elis would wind up dead or maimed."

Marshall bit his tongue and dryly said; "I think it important to point out the difference between an error of commission and an error of omission. ...............

Zeus said; "A ******* error is a ******* error, idiot. This is too important to risk another." He pointed at Brigitte and Prometheus and followed with; "And don't think that you are home scot free, just because you offer no input. If the people judge this project a mishandled failure, you will also be blamed, AND RIGHTFULLY SO."

Seth contentiously countered: "That's what you say! You should know **** well that it is always the Prime Minister and/or Military Director who get blamed for everything, AND RIGHTFULLY SO!" He paused as Brigitte and Prometheus pounded their fists on the table, maniacally nodding in approval. On a roll he continued; "What we have always needed is more information. But, no. Based on the say so of one mentally challenged man and another who can't find his way out of the driveway ......."

Marshall cut in and said; "When we get enough of my people there we can attack and win. The way I see it .............."

Zeus interrupted, saying; "Right, then rather than three dead Elis we'll have twenty million."

Marshall said; "Fifteen million tops. Even if Earth has comparable weapons, my men have more experience using them."

Cronos drolled; "If they can manage not to get lost."

Zeus waved his hand and said; "Marshall, just shut up. The obvious point here is that we have to survive an unexpected storm and keep our exodus intact, at least until we get to Earth and gather further intelligence. With a population of thirty million it is absurd to sit there and say we could lose fifteen million tops. That would change everything. It could even spark a revolution."

Cronos said; "Here, here."

Zeus felt like being arbitrary to everyone and rather than appreciating the support, he said; "No, there, there. On the ******* Earth. We have to put the best face on this incident, buy some time and hope no more happen."

Marshall said; "Not a ******* chance, Pollyanna."

Despite Marshall's objection the result of the meeting was to make only one real change; to remain small and hidden. The other "action" was to inform the news services of the correct verbiage to articulate.

After the official meeting Seth, Brigitte and Prometheus held their own unofficial one; the object- personal damage control. They decided to launch their own media blitz, using the slogan; "WE NEED MORE INFORMATION." The hackneyed phrase had been denigrated as a method of doing nothing and seeming intelligent and managerial by Management Consultant Howard Hostetler fifty years after the invention of the first Eli computer. He coined the phrase "INFORMATION OVERLOAD" in his popular MBA-program-utilized textbook; "Accounting as a Method of Artful Self Presentation." However, advocating a need for more information continued to be an unbeatable argument as people saw it as theoretically opposed to advocating stupidity in the vein of "We need less information" rather than its reality based equal of "I don't want to take a risk by being decisive."

So, the three unobtrusive Ministers took to the prime time airwaves with concerned and sincere faces. Just in case that didn't fool anyone, Brigitte's crimson dress commenced near her nipples. The wall behind them lined with Eli flags and a rectangular sign with rotating multi-colored lights which said; "WE NEED MORE INFORMATION." The quiet ones introduced themselves, and each recited one sentence fragment from their prepared speech and then circled around again. After "WNMI" the next line was "I love the good people of Eli too much." "To silently witness the most formidable decision regarding their life and well-being." "Decided without appropriate investigation, blah, blah, blah." Brigitte seemed to gush her portion of the phrase which was intended to be taken as double entendre.

After the meeting Cronos thought that he could get an advantage over the others if he could unequivocally determine Joshua's veracity in an objective way. He knew that when he called Earth he had intended to reach Ares, but got Joshua instead. He decided to experiment.

He had been given two "call buttons," one when Joshua left and one when Ares did. He pushed the Joshua button and received his daily "intelligence" report. He then pushed the Ares button and again Joshua answered. Cronos said; "Sorry, mistake," and got off the line. This led him to consider the possibility that Joshua had both rockets. He couldn't imagine why Joshua would want two. A spare? But wouldn't Joshua realize that he was admitting contact with Ares by answering his rocket? No doubt. The whole thing made no sense.

He had previously considered talking to the makers of the craft; the Completions, but dismissed the thought because of their freaky nature and because he didn't want to risk tipping his hand that he knew something was very strange. Everyone considered them unpredictable, but often necessary aberrations who just might do anything. But now everyone was focused on matters more important than one dead Eli astronaut. He decided to "check out" the evacuation ship production as a slap in the face to Marshall and direct the conversation toward transmitters.

The Sunny gate guard recognized Cronos and let him right in. He entered an austere anteroom with short white carpeting and windows out of reach to all but Goliath. Behind a desk another Sunny guard looked up, and then deferentially greeted him. "What can we do for you today?"

Cronos responded; "I'd like to see Oppenheimer."

"Which one?"

"I'm most interested in seeing Jonathan."

The guard inserted a card and a heavy iron door rolled open. Other guards scurried to them. The first guard said; "Minister Titanby is here to see Jonathan Oppenheimer."

The interior guards nodded and started to lead Cronos down a dark hallway which reeked of disinfectant. They came to an iron door with bars on the window and let him in. They followed and Cronos waved them off saying; "That won't be necessary. Jonathan is an old friend."

The guards seemed perplexed, one saying; "These people are crazy and can be dangerous."

Cronos nodded at them and said; "That's quite all right. I know them."

The guards backed off and Cronos continued through the "living area" which had thick padding covering the walls as dense as a mattress. The skylight ceiling provided the room's only illumination. Windows were too easy a form of escape and glass a source of weaponry. Though the Completions were technically Sunnies, they were as pale as the Darkies. The only light they ever saw was filtered by the skylights which covered their entire compound and blocked out the tanning possibilities of the sun. He made a left at the intersection and heard groans. He soon saw Jonathan and George lying in a huge bed with two daughters of prominent Sunny Elis. The women tried to jump up, but were tightly held as the two Completion men gripped their waists firmly and pressed their heads harder between their legs. The two women had second thoughts, and their struggle became less than half-hearted. Jonathan looked up briefly and saw Cronos. He said; "Man, you got some kind of timing. ........ Don't you just love the taste of dark, dark Sunny pussy?" He dove back down and showed his affection with slurping tongue kisses.

Jonathan and George licked their lips as Cronos fumbled for an answer. George mumbled; "See, man. That's why we get all your women over here. They know we just love their cunts." He turned to Dahlia, blew a kiss and said; "Love you the most baby. Mmmmmm."

Cronos grimaced and said; "Looks and sounds like you need an adjustment in your controller."

Jonathan's white face became slack as he sat up. He dropped his eyelids in disdain and replied; "Do that and we might forget how to get your old ass out of here."

Cronos said; "Look. I don't really give a shit. You know that. I just came here to find out how the rocket production is going. If you want to do that with my wife's cunt on your face, I don't care."

George said; "She's coming tomorrow. You want to reschedule for then?" He stood up, making the tongue-outstretched-lizard tattoo across his chest obvious. He stroked himself and said; "You guys never understand. You only think about your own orgasm. You know only half of the story. That's why we gotta figure out everything for you. We complete your Stupid Complications. That's what we call you, you know."

Jonathan too was standing and scratching at his recent, chest covering Gila Monster work of art. He added; "Cum-pleet versus he-lie." He leaned over and kissed Marlene's foot and mumbled; "Mmm, mmm, mmm."

Marlene stretched out, fingered her hairy bush, licked her finger and said; "Come on baby. We got more important things to do."

Jonathan said; "In a minute, baby. Wait for me. This jerk is ruining my concentration."

Cronos said; "Are you two finished telling me how smart you are?" When he got no quick clever answer, he added; "Thanks for pointing it out. I wouldn't have noticed otherwise."

George was oddly sensitive about his intelligence and was compelled to sternly say; "You idiots don't notice anything, even when it's right in front of your face." The women found that amusing in its apparent kismet.

Cronos affected a bored tone and said; "Like my wife's cunt. Yeah, I know. But, no matter how smart you guys are, you are our slaves and you better be nice to us."

George facetiously said; "Hey, hey, touchy word, man."

Jonathan followed up with; "Everyone believes that the smart enslave the stupid. Just like most beliefs, it's precisely the other way around. ............. Ah, **** all this ****. We want to get back to head first diving. We're here for our crowns, right? Production's on schedule, slightly ahead. Okay?"

"Good, good. We've received reports of some problem with the transmitters. Calling one ship sometimes results in an answer from another."

Oppenheimer pouted. "Yeah, that's going to keep happening. Don't forget that we had to do this quickly. Essentially, what is there is a prehistoric CB blasted on super steroids. So, a call goes to the first open line it finds. One size fits all. It shouldn't be a problem as the trips don't take long." He gazed at the dark open legs at his side and in a sing-song fashion added; "It's just a temporary thing."

Cronos waved his hand dismissively and said; "No, no, not a problem. Just some unimportant confusion. That's all." Though he made a point of not showing it, he was disappointed to know that he could still not come to any conclusions about Joshua. He would have to wait until he got to Earth and personally inspect Joshua's rocket. As he turned to leave he saw Jonathan and George's faces disappear between the dark, shaggy and rolling hills. He couldn't help saying; "Remember, you are what you eat."

Jonathan looked up, winked and said; "Hey, hey, Cronos. Tell your wife not to shower. I want to taste her at full tangy strength."

Eli migration continued on schedule and on day three the first five ships full of Darkies arrived, complementing the fifteen populated entirely by Sunnies. They landed in remote areas, remained one inch tall and had a constant battle with hungry birds. Four military men were on each ship, all equipped with "silver bullets." They rotated guard duty and blasted numerous birds which appeared to the little ones as if they were pterodactyls as well as a few badgers, raccoons and roaming dogs; proportionately dinosaurs. The tiny Elis were soon disenchanted with their promised land and many concluded that it was not only humans that were predatory; it was everything on the stupid hell planet, euphemistically known as Earth.

The military guards did their best, but at times were overwhelmed by swarming swallows. A few Elis got carried off and ripped apart by those just out of the egg.

### Chapter 14

SHOOTING VICTIMS RELEASED FROM HOSPITAL

WOUNDS FROM SMALL CALIBER GUN SUPERFICIAL

DAllAS DAILY TRIBUNE, 7-6-2058. The three victims of the Independence Day, Deely Square shooting were released from Lovelace Dallas General Hospital last night. Doctors called the wounds "substantially surface with more blood loss than anything else."

The two men and a woman, whose names were not released, are members of a group which claims to be from the planet Eli. Though doctors did not confirm or deny this claim, they did say that each victim was imbedded with a chip, with which they were unfamiliar. They did not know its purpose. Hospital management said that none of the three were covered by any kind of medical insurance and gave no home address or place of employment on this planet.

Reading from a prepared statement, Public Relations Director, William Spinoza was quoted as saying; "We were morally obliged and happy to be the Good Samaritan, no matter where the people are from and no matter their skin color. We wish them well. To our stockholders we would like to assure that every collection effort will be utilized .............."

Robby Allison was escorted from the Dallas Municipal Detention Center by two plainclothes cops and discharged into a cheering throng of backslappers. Their hero was released with all initial charges dropped, as his lawyers successfully argued that there was no law against shooting aliens. The prosecution had to quickly accept that their initial charges were erroneous, but then tried to counter with the fact that Dallas had a law against shooting dogs, and that the Elis should at the very least have the legal status of canines. They did not prevail.

The short, rotund man with two days of unshaven beard growth laughed and smiled as forty onlooking, somewhat unkempt and disturbed looking men called for a speech. A few waved the Dallas Daily Tribune at him. Robby nodded obligingly, each nod in rapid succession to the previous. He held his head down and kept his lips pursed in his best imitation of important men he had seen on TV. He elevated himself to a rickety position on a discarded wheelchair sitting next to a waste disposal bin.

He said; "I know. I know. I've seen it. Tells me three things. These "Elis" are tough. ........... But, they're not as tough as we Americans." He waited for and received the customary applause and whistles. "Tells me that if you're an unemployed foreigner you get free medical care in this country. But, if you were born and raised here you pay through the nose." He heard people call back; "Damn straight," "******* A," "******** is what it is," and other undecipherable comments in the same tone, if not vein. "Tells me that we're going to have a bunch of aliens after our jobs." The response to this was a bit tenuous and muted as much of the audience had no job prior to the alien arrival and couldn't initially reconcile how you could take something from nothing. However, the spirit or spirits were upon them and they worked their way up to polite applause. "Tells me that we've got a whole lot more work to do." As Robby stepped off the wheelchair, it rolled resulting in more of a stumble than a step. This last aphorism was greeted with resounding yells of approval and applause. Most took this as a call to shoot more Elis. The few reasonably sober had a second thought. How do we tell them from dark skinned Americans? Two deep thinking skinheads followed the second thought with a third; "What's the difference?"

ROBBY ALLISON RELEASED

ALIENS LEGITIMATE TARGETS

DAllAS DAILY TRIBUNE, 7-6-2058. In a move which caught the prosecution with their pants down attorneys for local boy, Robby Allison, pleaded him not guilty in the shooting of three Elis. While they admitted Allison shot three, they said the victims were not human and that any laws against assault with a deadly weapon, or shooting someone in general specifically apply only to members of the human race.

The prosecution was not able to counter that point. Instead they attempted a circuitous approach, saying that Dallas does have an ordinance against shooting dogs, and that Elis should have at least that much protection. They also said that there is no proof that the victims are from the planet Eli, and until such proof is presented that they should be treated as human.

Judge Emil Nitrate ruled that dog laws apply to dogs, and dogs only, and chastised the prosecution for using the word "dogs" when the statutes specify "canines." He went on to say that if the victims say they are from Eli, we have to accept that that is where they are from, until proven otherwise. He ordered Allison released, all charges dropped, at least until the prosecution can supply compelling evidence that the victims are from the planet Earth.

Allison was released from Dallas Municipal Detention Center to be welcomed by an all-white male support unit. He briefly spoke to the backing group, receiving cheers from the forty ........

The plane landed at Dallas International Airport and immediately after exiting, Preacher Alvin Blunt was shown the paper by reporters hoping for a potty-mouthed, rude reaction. They were not disappointed as Blunt's first reaction was to incredulously say; "Shee-it." While reporters were then content as they had tomorrow's headline; "BLUNT'S FIRST REACTION TO DALLAS- SHIT," the Preacher continued to speak, saying; "Things are a bit backward here. A couple of niggers get shot and the burden of proof is on them to prove that they are human. What kind of nonsense is that? So, now I suppose that if a racist white kills a black, it will be a legitimate defense to say; 'He told me he was from Jupiter,' while the poor ass ****** ****** was talking about his home in Florida. We got some serious work ahead of us here. The first business will be of a legal nature. Suits will be filed pronto."

A reporter said; "What good will lawsuits do? You need the legislature to pass laws."

The Preacher blustered; "I'm not a lawyer and neither are you. It's obvious to me that some laws have been broken, or, or, or need serious clarification. I'm going to let the mechanics figure out the mechanics." He turned to Elston Hughes, POCKET Chief Attorney and said; "No offense, brother."

Elston smiled and scratched his eye with his right middle finger.

The Eli migration continued on schedule as the compelling logic was that; 1) They was no question that they had to leave Eli; 2) Earth was the only other place they knew with a suitable environment; 3) Staying small, all groups excepting the first, would probably remain undetected; 4) The leaders really didn't care if a few Elis were sacrificed, as they would still have the bulk of their constituency; and 5) No one knew a better alternative.

On Eli, Zeus pondered the issue, as he had no intention of living the rest of his life small. He had been a big man all his adult life. Childhood was another matter best reserved for those of the psychological persuasion with a bullying specialty. He wanted assurances from the US president, himself, but didn't know how to reach him. He assigned the task to a few flunkies. As President, Zeus, in effect, dictated policy without consciously thinking about it. He assumed the US President could do the same.

In New York City Joshua read of the news in outraged liberal dailies. He hung out in open air restaurants and coffee shops trying to get a taste of the "Big Apple." He was extremely depressed over the events and perhaps for the first time started to see the intricacies involved in merging two different species. He thought back to Becky and Grandpa and couldn't imagine the types of events being reported happening if they were involved. Was this the nature of power itself? Elis only escaped by fooling people with neutral controllers, supported by the "silver bullet" happy Peace Corps. A thought disturbed him; "Were Becky and Grandpa the way they were merely because they had no power?"

He went to a discount store and purchased a cell phone for cash. He had to talk to Becky and Grandpa and risked putting them in jeopardy by calling. Grandpa answered on the first ring.

"Hello."

"Hello. This is Joshua calling from Manhattan. Sure is a ways from Esperanza."

"Yeah. The snakes wear suits and the stars never come out."

"Don't like the place?"

"It's fine for some, but not me. I always preferred something natural."

"You never heard of Central Park?"

"Didn't they turn that into a condominium development the last time they went broke?"

"No. ....... Maybe along the edges."

Grandpa said; "Money, money, money. That's what the whole place is about. One of the last paintings he did Warhol just painted a dollar sign. ....... And he got loads of dollars for it."

"You should have been an artist."

"Ah, I should have been exactly what I am; a story telling old fart sitting on the porch. So, how have you been? Get robbed yet?"

"Only by the hotel and restaurants. But, that's legal, right? What's new in Esperanza?"

"It's been raining off and on for three days now. There are some things growing out here that I've never seen before; century plants. Give some people severe allergic reactions. Been reading the news."

"Pretty bad, huh?"

"Could be better. But, I'll tell you that back in '39 things looked a lot worse. We almost got into a to do with the Chinese and plenty of them are here."

"What happened?"

"Same old crap really. Our economy headed south and people blamed the Chinese imports, their violation of trademarks and copyrights and their interference in the 'free' money markets. It all worked out when the economy turned around. Chinese leaders promised to pursue those ignoring the trademarks and copyrights and that they haven't and never will tamper with the money markets. They also put out innuendo that they could make the yen the world currency if pressured."

"Did they really do any of that?"

"Hell no. Were you born yesterday?"

Joshua smiled at what he considered a role reversal and said; "What's going on now has me worried."

"What did you expect? A seamless transition for millions of aliens? You're supposed to be the calculating Eli. That's pretty naïve."

"It's good talkin' to you man. But, be careful about that 'alien stuff.' Political correctness has dictated that Mexicans who unlawfully cross the US border be called 'Without papers.'"

"It's funny how that stuff goes. Way back when, when the Italians first came to America, lots of people said they were without papers. The acronym 'WOP' was used. Do you know that till this day if you call an Italian a 'WOP' they'll get very angry with you?"

"Weird."

"Hold on. I know you want to talk to Becky and she's got lots to tell you. I'll get her."

A few seconds elapsed. Then he heard; "Joshua!"

"Becky, hi, I miss you."

"Miss you too. What have you been doing?"

"Wandering around Manhattan, trying to figure out what all that is about."

"Money, silly. I know you were going to ask, so I'll save you the trouble. I've been watching a lot of movies and I'm more convinced than ever that I can be a great actress. The biggest star today is Joelle Van Dyke and I'm better than she is right now. I saw this one where she plays a crazy mother. No third word. She sits, wearing a veil and spouts ponderous, cryptic things like; 'Upon adolescent circumspection one sees the inevitability of funereal amusement.' Like, no ****." Becky giggled and continued; "Pardon me. I can do better than that and I haven't yet reached adolescent circumspection."

"You're priceless, Becky. I called because I needed to hear some sanity and I sure got it. Tell me, do you think the weak are more morally inclined than the strong, precisely because they are powerless?

"Of course not. We have the ultimate weapon. We are powerful. Grandpa has the 'silver bullet'. We didn't go obliterate everyone we dislike; though we easily could have. ...... And gotten away with it too."

Joshua was glad he called as he felt replenished with the wisdom of simplicity. He asked her impressions of other movies and actresses she had seen and was rewarded with an enthusiastic, detailed account of seven. When she ran out of breath, he said; "You're great. You really are. I'm going to have to call more often. Gotta go now."

"You're going to keep us out of trouble, right?"

"Promise." He clicked off, smashed the cell phone and threw it into a street receptacle.

### Chapter 15

One of Zeus' subordinates managed to reach the high staff of US President Francis (Call me Frank, please) X. Stabile. The liberal staffer, Barbara Kennedy, one of a potpourri of people of every political persuasion serving, thought that a meeting would be egalitarian and encouraging; there was nothing to lose; and there would be flagrant press coverage. Francis X.'s general staff was comprised of people with whom the public had differing and confused interpretations of their political philosophies. The entourage was assembled for precisely this reason, as whichever way the winds blew, Stabile had a person he could momentarily highlight who went in the same direction. This issue was too new to have a clear cut public profile and future ramifications could well turn the tides to any possible channel. Politically astute, he saw no doubt that the Anti-Eli contingent was a growth opportunity.

Stabile had forty years of experience in handling similar situations. The first option was to duck; the second to say that more information was needed; the third to claim ignorance; and the last to appear to confront while really doing and saying nothing. Since the latter was the only one open to him he agreed to the meeting knowing full well what would be on Zeus' agenda and therefore expected to be fully prepared.

A casual private sit down was planned prior to the programmed appearance before the press. Stabile was informally resplendent in his Ivy League, off-white polo shirt and khaki pants. He was already waiting in the Elliptical Office of the Gray House when Zeus arrived in formal red and gold regalia. Stabile turned from the window which overlooked a haphazardly maintained evergreen bush garden and greeted Zeus.

As they shook hands, Stabile said; "Mr. Prime Minister."

Zeus said; "Mr. President," as a correction, but it was taken as a greeting.

"Call me Frank, please." He motioned for Zeus to have a seat and Frank took one at the opposite end of the long table.

Zeus was a bit put off by the over-familiarity usually associated with Eli peanut farmers, but tried not to smirk when he said; "Frank."

"And may I call you Zeus?"

Zeus thought that he might already have gleaned an insight into the American political game; a sickeningly sweet, guileless, welcoming exterior covering the dark side of the moon; probably played out in vague disingenuous banalities. He hoped his first impression was wrong as he wanted to do business with "The Man." He re-tasted his lunch and heartily wished that he would not vomit. He said; "Yes, please do. Our time is limited, so forgive me for hastily getting to the point. I'm certain you know why I'm here. I'm sure you'll agree that it is patently absurd that the shooting of Elis is not a crime. We have come in peace and hope to contribute to and enjoy your beautiful country."

"Let me formally welcome you. Let me go on record to say that I am an Eli supporter and I do agree that the legal situation regarding Elis can stand some improvement. Having said that, I think that you can appreciate the intricacies, checks and balances, if you will, which make our system sound. I cannot dictate an immediate change. Nor can anyone. Laws have to be proposed by legislators, voted on, win, tested in the courts, stand appeals and in some cases go to the Supreme Court. If you had informed us of your intentions earlier, we could have gotten off to a quicker start. Now we have complications. You have my heartfelt sympathy and I will do everything in my power to be of assistance."

Zeus interpreted Frank's ineffectual and cold response as due to two unspoken considerations; 1)He sees the tide of public opinion as going anti-Eli and doesn't know how far it will go, and 2)He doesn't see anything to gain in making an effort to help. Accustomed to being more forthright in Eli political meetings, as it is more efficient and primarily because nobody any longer buys the ********, Zeus ignored the chosen words and answered the meaning he had gathered. He said; "Only time will tell if the anti-Eli movement will constitute to be anything more than a lunatic fringe. That's an unknown neither of us can predict. However, I will make an analogy to the US black situation. A politician cannot win being anti-black and the Eli Sunnies qualify. Secondly, there are thirty million of us, twenty million of voting age, and we vote as a block for those who support us."

Frank sniffed, tapped one finger on the table and looked out the window at a lazy hawk gliding. He didn't appreciate Zeus' bluntness and considered him exasperating and politically naïve, who had obviously spent no time in the diplomatic corps. He decided the correct approach was the safest one; to seek more information. He said; "I think you may have misunderstood. I said I was an Eli supporter." He offered a broad smile which Zeus returned with one of the Patton variety. He continued sans the broad grin and said; "Tell me. Where will you be living?" He was thinking that Zeus might be perpetrating a hoax, might be greatly exaggerating the numbers, that there may be legal complications to voting rights for some time and that if they all congregate in one state which his party always loses, it had no consequence no matter what.

Zeus drew the conclusion that the meeting would be fruitless. He had made his well anticipated point and shunned redundancy. Oddly, he became amused with the dialogue he considered absurd, and openly smiled at Frank like an eight year old rube who just won the mud sliding contest. He said; "Elis are free to live wherever they choose. No telling where we'll wind up. Probably do some moving. Get proficient with guns. Safety, mind you. Maybe we'll be the swing vote."

Stabile followed with; "Just between us, how do we know that you are from the planet Eli? You look like Americans, talk like Americans and get shot like Americans."

Zeus said; "We all are imbedded with a chip operated by a controller. This isn't proof per se as you could do the same thing. But, watch this." He pushed a series of buttons and shrank to an inch. Frank walked over to see where he had gone and saw miniscule Zeus still on his chair. Zeus reversed the button push and shot back to normal size, knocking Frank back. Zeus said; "Never get too close to a tiny Eli. The shock can be devastating. ....... You know, if we get fair treatment here, we can give you one of these and you could run it through your Warhollian duplicating machines."

Frank responded; "That's a kind offer. But why would we want to get small?"

"That's not all they do. They also control mood. They do come in very handy when there is a food or housing shortage. If all Earthlings were tiny you could get by with approximately 1.3% of the food currently consumed. There would be no homelessness, unless it was the result of free choice."

For the first time Frank had an interest and pushed for more goodies. He said; "The rockets you use must be way ahead of ours."

"They fly at five times the speed of light. The technology is very classified information. ....... But, you know good friends share their toys. If we were assured that you were good friends, ............................"

Frank pushed, thinking he found a sucker; "Weaponry?"

Zeus understood it precisely that way Frank intended it and was insulted. He didn't show it and calmly said; "Nothing you don't already have, more or less. Explosives. Top secret stuff."

Stabile thought it appropriate to use rhetoric in an attempt to bolster the perception of American might. He said; "We recently acquired something that tops all." After feeling compelled to say that he realized that he might have created infinite confusion as well as opening the door to being caught in a direct lie. The previously announced indirect and conjured "leaked" story implied that they had gotten a new technology from an alien. That didn't hurt at the time. Who could say otherwise? Who really expected to encounter the bona fide shrinking alien, in the person of Zeus? He entertained the thought that by now Zeus would have ascertained whether or not he had lost one of his people and one of his weapons. On the other hand, when the story was concocted he thought the alien landing was a farce and merely sought to plant a bee in the bonnet of enemies. But, now Zeus could be in the position of knowing that it was a total fabrication, though not overtly stated. For his part, Zeus took the statement as an indication that he was dealing with someone with a penchant for overstating his case. Since, like Cronos, he had strong suspicions that Joshua had killed Ares, he thought it only a miniscule chance that the US government wound up with his weapon. However, if this miniscule chance was the case, then Stabile knew that the Elis were better armed than he had said. He was seeking this man's help and he had an infinitesimal chance of having been caught in a glaring direct lie. Elis made an art of telling partial stories, omitting pertinent clarifying "factoids," citing plausible reasons rather than the real ones, refusing to recognize inconvenient information which was not 100% provable (What is 100% provable?) and utilizing the precisely correct word to mislead. But, out and out lying was considered incompetent and he was now extremely self-conscious in Stabile's presence.

Both parties decided that the meeting was completely unproductive, that they couldn't rely on anything the other said and that they were personally embarrassed at the good possibility of having been caught in a lie. Both mulled over the idea of sending diplomats to any future meetings.

While his interest in some possible world edge remained piqued, Frank had some unexpressed reservations with the rocket as the US was no longer interested in expensive space missions and wondered if the weaponry query was responded to truthfully, merely because the rocket was so advanced he couldn't imagine weaponry to be so far behind. He considered making people small an attractive idea, but worried about its probable negative economic impact. He didn't consider Zeus an idiot; just one devoid of political skills, who must have come from some sort of monarchy. His pragmatic decision was immediate; try to convince Zeus that he was helping as much as he could without inciting the American zealot brigade to turn from his party. Frank concluded the meeting with an exhortation to the "productive exchange of ideas," apparently oblivious to the fact that his "ideas" were restricted to political considerations. Zeus was irritated and disdainful of a President who couldn't or wouldn't deliver the goods. If he "couldn't" there was no point in continuing the tete-a-tete. If he "wouldn't" it would serve his interest to up the pressure or find out who on Earth had the capability. "This Stabile may only respect force. Maybe he's just a flunky."

Stabile ushered Zeus out of the "Elliptical Office" with light fingers on the elbow. He said; "Don't say anything. Let me handle this." After they passed through two doors and eight nodding armed security guards they entered the Gray House' Open Room, where approved members of the press waited. They were either telling each other of the great stories that got away, sullenly trying to appear "hard hitting" in case they got on camera, ingratiating themselves to a Gray House staffer or picking their nose and surreptitiously scanning the room to see if it was safe to eat it.

Frank nuzzled up to the podium with his patented ****-eating smile. He motioned Zeus to the rear where he almost merged with the red, white and blue; his gold somewhat differentiating him. He said; "I'd like to thank ........" He stopped short when his amplified voice did not command the attention of all attendees. He stared at three journalists who fancied themselves "expose" type reporters, while employed by glossy monthlies available at supermarket check-out lines. They had staffer Rodney Naught surrounded, vehemently trying to convince him that it was in the interest of the American public to tell what he knew of Frank's alleged liaison with former volunteer Angela Sockalow. Frank loudly cleared his throat and the room was silent if not attentive. "I'd like to thank you all for coming, umnn attending on such short notice. Zeus and I just concluded an informal sit down which was as much a pleasure as an official duty. Umnn, we share many of the same outlooks and values. I looked him square in the eye and knew he was a good man. We spoke of things our cultures can do for one another. And umnn, he, of course, was concerned with the recent tragic shooting of three Elis. I think I spoke for everyone when I told him that he had our deepest sympathies, and I gave him my word that anyone engaging in hate crimes against his people will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. And umnn, ......."

In Cloister, Colorado thirty-five year old handyman and landscaper, William Carmichael III glared at his TV screen. He poured the remainder of his Budweiser down his throat and called out; "Madge, would you come look at this. Unbelievable!"

His wife of twelve years dragged herself into the family room of their fifty year old six room, L-shaped ranch, hands on her wide hips as if to say; "What?"

"The President is supporting these Elis, as if we're not already having enough trouble with the other aliens."

Madge chose not to resurrect their longstanding debate over whether or not it was the fault of the Mexicans that William spent the bulk of his time on his ass, drunk in front of the TV. She did want to annoy him however and said; "There aren't that many of them. They look like us. And so far they haven't registered an interest in going into the handyman business."

William ignored any possible innuendo out of an undiagnosed Comprehension Deficit Disorder (CDD) and said; "If we make it easy for them more will come. Rest assured. And what did you mean about the handyman business?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

"Looking like us isn't any good thing. They can pass and people who believe in hiring Americans won't know the difference."

"People hire whoever does what they want at the lowest price. Simple as that."

"What are you saying?"

"...................."

"This used to be a great country, but now the liberal politicians allow everyone to do whatever they want."

Madge couldn't completely hide a chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

Madge had a few avenues of approach open to her and settled on the simplest, saying; "Stabile is not a liberal."

"He is now. Women don't understand anything. I'm going to call a few of my buddies. Somebody has to do something." He took the cell phone from his pocket and started furiously pushing buttons. Madge went back to the "Daughters of Lilith" website.

Though the conversation particulars differed, similarly intended words flew around many households throughout the country containing a husband who believed or found it convenient to say that his lack of financial success was due to unfair competition from the uneducated. Without any doubt it was safe to say that the rank and file of the disenfranchised white fringe had enough trouble deciphering single speak and now confronted with double they took Stabile's words to mean that he was actually in support of the Elis, and they were mad about it.

As news of the meeting became common knowledge small militaristic groups claiming allegiance to Robby Allison formed. Most Americans saw them as little more than a showcase for losers as no one in their right mind could get really worked up over 9,000 beings which claim to come from outer space, ostensibly in their right mind. Their backwater rallies, wherein they displayed bald heads, a lot of fat, tattoos and swastikas got the attention of desperately bored people with cameras. The participants got what they most craved. They felt like stars and condescended to interviews. The middle classes chided and joked, but in a short time it became apparent that their derision was more of methodology than philosophy.

### Chapter 16

With some reservations about inadequate planning, largely fostered by the "We Need More Information" campaign, the Elis saw little choice but to continue their mass Exodus and bitch. The journeys were without incident, however upon arrival in America they landed in remote areas and remained small, so as not to be detected. Their diminished stature invited non-human predators. Birds swooped, raccoons lunged and insects investigated. Military men equipped with "silver bullets" labored full time to keep the huddled masses from becoming a lower end of the Earthly food chain. In some agricultural areas dog disappearances became prime local conversation, but the farmers were of the opinion that their patrollers had fallen prey to transient dognappers, who had previously been known to temporarily infest their territories to roundup and sell the dogs to unscrupulous food distributors.

After waiting to determine that no glitches occurred with the flights Cronos zoomed to America on the fifth day of flights. His transport landed in upstate New York and his first objectives were to return to full size, rent a car and drive to Manhattan.

Joshua was surprised to hear a knock on his midtown hotel door and was immediately fearful that it might be an anti-Eli assassination squad. He thought of the operations of the Peace Corps back home and considered the only difference was that on Earth the "peacekeepers" were not officially sanctioned. He carried his "silver bullet" to the door and peered through the eyelet. He saw Cronos and dismissed any assassination attempt, no matter what they had learned of him, as "The Law" was above personally doing the dirty work. He pocketed his weapon, keeping it within easy reach, just in case, took a deep breath and without any doubt thought it best to be affable.

He opened the door, quickly scanned the hallway and said; "Cronos! What a pleasant surprise. Come on in."

Cronos smiled and nodded, walked directly to an exposed box-framed chair and made himself at home. He said; "Certainly is a lot to be seen in Manhattan. Driving here I passed through a wide street with "women" wearing almost no clothes. They approached cars and asked if the driver wanted a date."

"Otherwise you would have been here earlier."

"THEY WERE GUYS!"

Joshua knew and cared nothing of "The Law's" sexual proclivities, and was amazed that he seemed to be registering such a value judgmental opinion. However, before he made any self-revealing response he considered the possibility that Cronos may be testing him because of his unusual call for peace and mental instability. He flatly said; "I guess you came by way of Ninth Avenue."

"I really didn't notice the signs. Did you ever go with one of them?"

"No."

"Not in your repertoire?"

"I haven't had any sex with anything of flesh and blood since they got better at making the dolls. How about you?"

"Same. Listen, before I forget, let me take a look at your rocket."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your boss and I say so. No, I've been in consultation with the Completions concerning possible manufacturing problems. Yours was the first and somewhat experimental."

"Thanks for telling me now."

"Well, everything is experimental in a broad sense. Otherwise we wouldn't have "New Improved Borax" and New Improved products of all sorts."

"I always thought that was the work of Marketing."

Cronos smirked and continued on his track, saying; "They told me a number of things to look for that could have had something to do with your memory loss. It might provide useful information for future reference. In terms of politics, at home three committee members have launched a "We Need More Information" campaign." He waved his hand dismissively.

Joshua handed him the rocket. Cronos got up, went to the small kitchen area and put it on the tiled floor. He proceeded to shrink while his right hand was in his pocket holding onto his "silver bullet." He went straight to the control panel and found three transmitters. He was certain that this was Ares rocket; that Joshua had killed him, and that Joshua was lying to him. The only remaining questions were the extent of the lying, the purpose of it and whether Joshua had Ares "silver bullet." The answers to the first two questions were largely irrelevant to him, despite what the "We Need More Information" proponents would say in the same situation. Sure, it would be interesting to know; but far from essential. The "silver bullet's" location was all; war or peace. He knew that he could not trust anything Joshua had said. However, he would like to have known whether or not Joshua had Ares' "silver bullet." If yes, the Elis could kill Earthlings with impunity. If no, the risks were staggering. He applied logic and easily concluded that Joshua must have the "silver bullet." Where else could it have gone? It could have been destroyed in Joshua's blast. It was highly unlikely that anyone else witnessed the event and took it, without using it. But, if his most likely scenario was accurate, why did Joshua suddenly become a peace-monger? He concluded; "Brain damage and broken controller." He realized that he was again on a meaningless tangent. All that remained to be necessarily determined was to find out where Ares' "silver bullet" is. Beyond that, it was essential to act as quickly as possible, as even if the Earthlings did not currently have the advanced technology, the more time which elapsed the more likely it was that they'd get it. He exited the rocket and grew back to full size.

Joshua smirked when he said; "How's the air down there?"

Cronos was not accustomed to Joshua displaying open disdain for him and he thought that remark bordered on it. There was something different about his fair haired boy, which re-enforced his logic. He stared into Joshua's eyes knowingly and with an air of amusement. He said; "Hazy, but my eyes are still 20-20."

"Find anything?"

In a hope to see Joshua's gut reaction, Cronos blurted; "What did you do with Ares' 'silver bullet?'"

Joshua knew the game. He now was certain that his boss mistrusted him. While his stomach felt as if it had suddenly become a vacuum, without inflection he said; "I gave it to a little girl."

The two stared at each other, each at a loss for further words and hoping the other would get anxious. Cronos broke the ice with; "What kind of answer is that?"

"I make it a policy to answer stupid questions with stupid answers."

They again stared at each other, this time each attempting to read the other's mind. When Joshua thought he saw Cronos lips quiver, he broke into a smile and soon had company. He effetely and sarcastically said; "My benefactor has qualms about my veracity?"

Cronos paused for another eye inspection. He patted Joshua's cheek and said; "That's why you're my favorite. ............ Just don't ever make the mistake of coming after me. I'll kill 'ya."

They both grinned. Cronos turned and went toward the door. They both had new thoughts to ponder. Joshua said; "Hey, chief."

When Cronos turned Joshua added; "Look for the TV they call Rabbit. Great head shots."

Rather than pursuing any artificial entertainment, upon leaving Cronos called Zeus and requested a council meeting.

Zeus sounded bored and irritated when he responded; "This is getting to be a habit."

"A necessary one; like neutrality addiction."

"So you say. So you say, maestro. What, pray tell, is the purpose of this one?"

"'War and Peace.' You may have perused it."

Zeus was less than happy with the response, but suspected Cronos' next call would be to the up and coming "We Need More Informationers." He tersely said; "My room; 2PM; tomorrow," and hung up. His thoughts were of himself and he planned an intricately precise daily routine; in which he could minimize exposure to zealot Earthlings; which in his estimation meant all of them.

The following day Cronos was anxious and well prepared for his presentation to the Committee. He had written out his plan, which he intended to read to them. He didn't bring any new information, such as the strong likelihood that his man, Joshua had killed Marshall's man, Ares, but he thought he had an inside edge on the logic of the situation. Of most significance, he thought that if he was right and he likely was, he would someday have a good shot at Zeus' job.

He stood and said; "Reflection has made it obvious to me that when we considered the possibility of killing the predatory Earthlings we made a fundamental error. In previous discussions of this matter, perhaps without realizing it, we spoke of attacking or not attacking; one might say cogitating the possibility of only black or white. I'm here today to suggest that in the great tradition of Eli philosophical thought we take a gray approach." He paused and scanned five faces, trying to determine if they thought he was speaking unpatriotic sarcasm. Four heads with wrinkled brows looked down at the desk, displaying either a contemplative seriousness, a lack of interest, an impatience for Cronos to get to the point or dissatisfaction with what reflected back at them from the glass topped table.

The exception was Marshall Ordnance, who confidently leaned back on his chair, made a smile which showed twenty of his teeth, and used the pause to interject with derision; "You're advocating a LIMITED war."

When the other four turned their eyes to him, Cronos was thankful he had taken the time to write everything down. Rather than directly responding to his terse critic, he read on; "It should be readily obvious to all of us that the risk of Earthlings having equal or superior weaponry is a position at the least likely end of the probability spectrum. In the spirit of "We Need More Information," I propose a test. I suggest that we obliterate something of medium consequence to Earthlings; the Pentagon comes to mind, but I am not adamant about it; and see what response they make. If none is forthcoming we up the ante and take out say; Cleveland. If there is still no response, at that point we can be assured that they have no capability for one and proceed with our original plan, and the world will quickly be ours."

Cronos paused and again scanned his audience. Seth, Brigitte and Prometheus looked to each other with raised eyebrows. Each thought that if enacted, this plan would render their "We Need More Information" (WNMI) promotion moot, but since Cronos' plan was somewhat in sync with "WNMI," they were at a momentary loss as they didn't want to risk being publicly critical.

Zeus growled; "Isn't this contrary to what your man advocated? And which you previously supported?"

Cronos merely said; "Yes. I humbly stand corrected," seeing no play in going further.

Zeus said; "I was always under the impression that you highly valued the recommendations of Joshua Foucalt."

Cronos said; "I did and continue to do so. However, the complexity of this particular issue merits it being viewed as a special case."

"Then you still retain full faith and confidence in Foucalt?"

"Yes."

Zeus appeared puzzled, scratched at his beard and said; "I must be missing something. I don't understand. You and your main man disagree on the biggest issue. Yet, you say you retain full faith and confidence. Isn't this sort of thing usually the time to split up?"

Cronos was prepared, saying; "We only have a tiny area of disagreement on the issues at hand, but total disagreement on the drawn conclusion. However, those issues are right at the margin where judgment steps in. If one could put numbers on these things I could say that while Joshua believes that Earth has a 15% probability of having comparable weapons and that risk is not worth endangering the lives of all Elis, I say that there is an 8% chance, and given subsequent, poor Eli experience on Earth, I think that risk is worth taking, not in an all-out war, but in testing situation, that I'll suggest will not lead to an all-out war, under any circumstances, if there is any degree of rationality employed on Earth. This is the only way the great people of Eli can return to their heritage of full peace."

Zeus questioned; "Have you run these ideas past Joshua?"

Cronos replied; "No. I saw no reason to. He is not on the voting body."

Zeus shrugged, engaged his portable computer, and proceeded to punch some numbers into his math program, the bulk of which were probably irrelevant.

Marshall Ordnance inwardly resented Cronos' attempt to usurp the hawk's wings, but remained outwardly amused and said; "The space man has promoted himself to militarist." He chuckled and added; "Do you have any knowledge of the results of limited warfare?"

"I don't consider this to be a proposal of limited war in the context of its historical meaning. In fact I never used the word 'limited.' You did. I said 'test.'"

"I reserve the right to later debate the semantics. However, there seems to be an error in your logic. You say that the object is to attain full peace, yet your plan makes that more difficult to attain than it is now."

Cronos said; "Please enlighten me. I don't follow at all."

Marshall said; "It's very simple for a military man. If we perform this 'test' on the Pentagon, there are only two possibilities. The first is that Earth does have comparable weaponry and they use it against us. The second is that they don't have comparable weaponry, in which case we have given them advanced notice, this so-called test, of our intentions, giving them the opportunity to plan a guerilla war against us, using whatever weaponry they do have and they know the terrain better than we do. NO. I say that if and when we attack, we surprise them with a massive effort aimed at the destruction of all major weaponry and kill as many as possible. Put them back in the Stone Age before they have a chance to think about it."

Cronos thought he would call what he thought was his opponent's bluff, as he didn't believe that Earth had the weaponry. He said; "I see the possible advantages of your proposal. I could vote for that."

Marshall chastised; "I did not propose war. I only said that if we were to have one it would not be wise to do it on a limited or test basis. I still am convinced that we should only attack if we can fully determine that Earth has nothing comparable. I have to tell you something, Cronos. In my studies of warfare, I have seen that a good leader is one who gets his side into winnable battles. People do not tolerate being put in losing situations very long, without rebelling."

Cronos hoped that the embarrassed flush he felt was less evident in appearance. He saw the nodding heads of the Committee members and knew that he had lost, both logically and by popular opinion. He decided to take one parting shot and said to Marshall; "I see you have joined the ranks of the 'We Need More Information' contingent."

His only response was from Zeus, who bellowed; "Cronos Titanby. Do not call for another meeting of this body unless you have something worthwhile. And if you think that you do, run it by Joshua Foucalt before you bring it here. Meeting adjourned."

### Chapter 17

By August 1, 2058 all thirty million Elis had successfully landed in America. As they were instructed they huddled in remote areas and remained small. They were continually menaced by all kinds of insects and wildlife, and were totally dependent on their "silver bullet" carrying, military protectors. The first nine thousand Sunnies who had landed in Los Angeles, Fort Lauderdale and Dallas on Independence Day remained large, as they saw little choice in the matter after having announced their presence, and are continually menaced by all kinds of insects and wildlife, which were actually camera carrying reporters, kids with toy guns and independent paparazzo. They were totally dependent on the kindness of strangers as their "silver bullet" carrying, military protectors couldn't dare show or use them on camera.

In the case of the tiny, with each day the dislike of their frailty and dependence grew. But, even worse than that, they could bear no more of their required closeness to other Elis. With many in an unbalanced state of anger and despair, despite controllers set on neutral, some started to openly speak of revolt in defiance of the overworked military. Their slogan became "Living Large."

In the case of the large, with each day the dislike of their frailty and dependence grew. But, even worse than that, they could bear no more of their required closeness to other Elis. With many in an unbalanced state of anger and despair, despite controllers set on neutral, some started to openly speak of revolt in defiance of the hindered military. Their slogan became "Try Tiny."

Zeus got wind of what was happening and he was shocked. Like everyone involved, he never anticipated that the lethargic, accept-anything Elis might become dissidents on Earth. He wondered if it was something in the atmosphere. Pragmatically, he ordered a checking of everyone's controller, but didn't expect that to be the answer, as it seemed very unlikely that they would all go out of whack at the same time, unless a previously unknown radical had advanced technology expertise. He did his due diligence.

Joshua sat comfortably unknown, living large and dependent on no one. Firmly ensconced in his Manhattan hotel room he watched a lot of Cable TV, focusing on the history, religion and science programming, trying to absorb as much as he could of what Earthlings believe. He tried to understand the reaction a little girl, like Becky, would have to such information. He heard of the protesting Eli stories via e-mail from insiders. It seemed so unlike the people he thought he knew a very short time ago. He tried to imagine himself in their place, and quickly concluded that he too, would be unhappy with the plight of the large and the small. And being in a new place ............ It's the reverse of the person who spends a lifetime complaining about their job and after retirement doesn't know what to do with themselves.

One of the problems he saw with life was that a person often sees only one state of affairs; like one job; like one spouse; like one house. They inevitably find all the faults of that situation, but have no opportunity to discover that other circumstances have just as many, if not more shortcomings. He chuckled to himself, thinking; "The big want to be small and the small want to be big. ........ Hmmnn. We are used to changing whenever we feel like it. Now, for presumably a short time, the government has ordered us not to do something to which we have become accustomed and the people are ready to revolt." This line of thought was more interesting to him than the professors' discussion of the "real" meaning of a Biblical story of Moses being denied entry into the promised land, currently occupying the screen. Maybe I don't feel the same way because I broke the controller myself. Maybe it's because I don't feel in danger. Maybe, maybe. Cronos would probably dismiss my mental meandering, probably as serving no purpose. And it well might not, but I've got a suspicion that the open Eli discord is going to lead to an unanticipated problem or two, or three.

On a personal level he came to a conclusion that he should have previously. Since Cronos was no longer asking him for intelligence reports he must have no use for them. "He definitely does not trust me. He wasn't kidding during his last visit. He's a crafty old fart, but it's fairly stupid for people to tip their hands by altering their behavior, but most all do, no matter the intelligence level. He must think he knows something that I don't. When he visited he made a point of looking into my rocket. Maybe he found something in there. Damn, I wish I could get small." Joshua snorted a quick laugh at his similarity to the other Elis he shortly ago found somewhat silly. He didn't know that even if he could shrink, he would not recognize the three transmitters versus one situation.

In Esperanza Becky became more and more hopeful of a peaceful resolution to the Eli integration with the passing of each incident free day. She sat on the porch with Grandpa and said; "I wish Joshua would call."

"I'm sure he feels the same way. But, he has an important job to do."

"Well, he's not working 24 hours a day."

"It's not that. You know that he's playing a game with his people. I'm sure he considered the possibility of being investigated and doesn't want to jeopardize you and me by getting us involved."

Becky sighed and plaintively said; "Everything is going so well."

Grandpa made no reaction, stared into the desert, and then excitedly exclaimed; "Did you see that? An eagle!" He got up and walked quickly toward the desert, pretending to be following what he never saw. Becky ran to keep up.

Near the mountain town of Murrayville, Tennessee two thousand nine hundred ninety Darkie Elis defied orders and ten other military Elis armed with "silver bullets," by using their controllers to return to full size. When they saw the people trekking determinedly through the undulating deer paths, the military men decided that they would obliterate a few, thinking that after setting a few examples, that the others would then turn back. But, after annihilating one each, they saw their effort as futile and self-defeating, and joined the march, though they were shunned by the others. The leader put in an emergency call to Marshall Ordnance and requested further direction about how to deal with a mass insurrection of people who don't give one iota of a damn.

The townspeople saw the parade coming slowly down the hill miles before the first Eli got to town and panicked. From a distance it appeared as if a huge undulating snake was descending the high paths. Many children thought that zombies were slowly coming to get them; adults leaned toward angry ancestors. The Sheriff exhibited rationality by commanding that everyone else get inside as he rounded up every good man he could think of. This didn't produce an overwhelming number, and as a consequence his makeshift army was predominately made up of marginals; any male over the age of fifteen with no criminal record or substance abuse problem. The rifle-armed minutemen set up a stand in a gully, peering over the top.

Two thousand nine hundred ninety, Sunny Elis near Old Chatham, NY were informed of the activities in Murrayville. They were inspired and decided that they had a better way. They remained small, flew their ship to the Brooklyn, NY docks and then grew, leaving the tiny military men to sit in the woods and wait for orders.

Across the entire USA, from California to Maine and from Washington to Florida, the news spread and the same scene played out wherever there was a contingent of tiny Elis. They followed the second model and flew small to big cities before growing, the military "silver bullet" holders sometimes joining the throngs and sometimes remaining hidden in the brush. With improvisation not one of his strong suits and "cover your ass" a career long dictum, Zeus Indiffant gave no orders and called for an emergency council meeting to determine if the others might know what to do.

Back in Murrayville, at a distance of one thousand feet, the descending Elis saw the armed troops. The ten military men equipped with "silver bullets" had another problem. As instructed, they did not want to use them on Earthlings for the risk of starting a mutually destructive war. Yet, these were the only weapons they had.

The leader sent an emergency e-mail to Marshall Ordnance and was surprised when he quickly got an answer. It said; "DO NOT USE SILVER BULLETS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE AND AVOID CASUALTIES." He did the only thing he could think of which could possibly satisfy both orders. Having seen a few History Channel 1960's segments, he ran to the front of the parade, held both hands in the air and used two fingers to show the peace sign. The other Elis were unaware of the symbolism and thought they were following his lead when they pointed their hands skyward, thinking that they were demonstrating that they were not armed.

There was confusion in the bunker. Joe Blasingame loudly yelled; "It's a trick," while his shaking hands held the rifle pointed in the general direction of the Elis.

The sheriff retorted; "DON'T ANYBODY SHOOT TILL I SAY SO."

Joe Bookman had his own take on the upraised hands and said; "A religious cult."

Sam Fieldstone said; "They're surrendering."

The sheriff said; "EVERYBODY SHUT UP." He crawled out of the bunker, rifle at his side and yelled to the Elis; "STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!" However, stopping a 2,990 person procession is easier said than done. The Elis at the rear kept moving forward, forcing those in front to do the same or be trampled.

The sheriff steadfastly stood as the Elis grinded to a clumsy halt. He called out; "Who are you and what do you want?"

The front military man said; "We are Elis. We are seeking a new place to live in peace."

The sheriff and the rest of his posse recalled TV reports they had seen about Elis, but up until now they thought that they were a bogus minority group looking for special considerations. He said; "Throw down your arms."

Knowing that an Earthling wouldn't know a "silver bullet" from a lipstick canister, the lead man said; "We are not armed."

The Elis danced into town with their hands pointed at the sky, and the Earthly residents of Murrayville forgot earlier considerations and hawked rooms they had for rent at triple what anyone would have considered market value minutes prior.

The Brooklyn domiciled Elis marched four abreast through the streets of Bedford-Stuyvesant on their way to Manhattan. The residents ignored them, and waited inside for the temporary annoyance to abate, thinking that they were part of some ******** rally organized by Preacher Al.

Zeus called yet another emergency session of the council to order. He banged the gavel slowly, then said; "I think we all know what prompted this meeting. When people disobey the rules problems arise and compound. We sit here, supposedly with the best interests of all Elis at heart." He didn't laugh, but stared sternly at the few on the verge of a chuckle. He continued; "I'm not sitting here playing Pollyanna, mind you. And I have not yet met senility. However, I'm also not wishing to sit here as President, presiding over a dwindling population. The votes of the masses suggest that they will no longer tolerate a small, safe life. This obviously puts them in jeopardy of becoming targets for deranged, violent Earthlings. If we strike back with our best weapon, a mutual annihilation is the most likely outcome. I'm open to suggestions. DAMN THIS IDIOTIC FREEDOM."

Silence was his greeting. He cleared his throat, looked at the other Ministers disdainfully, and said; "Zero. Five zeroes. Doesn't anyone have any idea? I won't hold you to it. Share whatever is in your mind. Maybe it will lead somewhere. If it's deemed inappropriate, I won't hold it against you."

Seth said; "We need more information."

Zeus fully controlled his urge to say something impolite, and instead asked; "What would be relevant to know that is currently unknown to you?"

Silence. ................ Zeus implored; "If you don't have a suggested solution, what is your question?"

Silence. .......... Since no one else had anything, tireless old Cronos resurrected his dismissed idea, saying; "What is wrong with a limited war? We will quickly find out if the Earthlings have any comparable weapons."

Marshall added; "And if they do we're ******."

Zeus said; "I appreciate your courage in saying something when no one else will. But, in addition to the discussion of a limited war we entertained at our last emergency meeting, it seems to me that the concept does not exist in reality. Whichever side is losing a limited war will make it less limited, and less limited, and less limited, until the finality is an all-out war. I, along with Marshall, do not consider this a satisfactory undertaking; literally." ..................... The continued silence behooved Zeus to add something which he directed at Cronos; "But, I truly appreciate your effort. The others merely cower. Thank you for the thought. Perhaps, I'm asking the impossible; something completely new."

Brigitte was encouraged by Zeus' magnanimous approach, and though she didn't have an inkling as to the solution, she spoke what she thought, saying; "I've always been under the impression that there is nothing new under the sun." .......... She paused, quizzical about what she had just verbalized without regard to long term positioning. In a less than declarative voice she intoned; "But, we're under a new sun. .............. I don't know. At the moment I feel as if my lifelong beliefs no longer apply. ........... But, I don't know what to put in their void. ................. On Eli we lived in peace, but we spent our lives calculating the most efficient way of prolonging an existence spent avoiding risk, only to see that we had done that at the cost of feeling alive."

Zeus cut her off, but not out of disapproval or poor manners; rather out of a genuine curiosity, saying; "It seems apparent to me that we are all among the living."

Brigitte quickly countered; "EXISTING. As throngs of insects mired in the mud; we pretend to ignore that the pinnacle is a high wind."

Marshall interjected; "I think we're getting off the practical considerations at hand."

Zeus said; "Precisely. If practicality was what is required, we would not have had the need to call for this meeting. The solution would be painfully obvious."

Marshall said; "This doesn't lead anywhere."

Zeus countered; "And where does your logic lead?"

Cronos answered for Marshall; "A bailout. A complete, unmitigated call for the safety of deference to the Committee, only because he can't handle his job."

Marshall said; "**** you. Just plain and simple **** you. You're the ******* that usually calls for these meetings."

Zeus sought to restore order as he was interested in where Brigitte was going and said; "Please, Brigitte, continue. I don't want to hear those two."

Brigitte was quiet and appeared pensive. She shook her head, pursed her lips and said; "I've lost my train of thought. .............. Freedom, whatever that is. Just let it rip. We no longer have a choice, anyway."

Zeus banged the gavel five times, then said; "LET IT RIP. MEETING ADJOURNED."

As the largesse was ripping, in Dallas, Preacher Al Blunt became successful in convincing his "brother" Police Chief, Malcolm Henderson, that the assault on an Eli was at the very least tantamount to "cruelty to animals," making the impassioned and compelling case that they were obviously not insects nor fowl. At a press gathering Henderson stated that; "Until this issue works its way through the courts, I have instructed my officers to arrest and detain anyone who attacks an Eli. They will be charged under Statute 47-2012, which basically criminalizes cruelty to animals, and carries possible penalties of six months in jail and a $20,000 fine." Blunt then took the podium and thanked his "friend" for taking the first of many steps to come in these complicated and difficult times.

Armed with a small victory Blunt left Dallas and paid well-publicized visits to Sunny Eli encampments. He was politely received by those he now considered his new constituents, though the majority remained somewhat reserved, wondering what was in it for him.

In the course of his travels he was informed that on Eli, the dark skinned Sunnies were actually the dominant group. The light skinned Darkies were the disenfranchised. Initially, he considered the possibility of the information being a hoax, but after confirming it with different Eli groupings, he accepted it as true. "Strange, but true," he thought, as he was openly shown the virtual enslavement of the light skinned Sunny Completions. Their Los Angeles quarters bordered on luxurious, approaching what it was on Eli. They didn't seek help and yet they were not free to come and go as they pleased.

The good Preacher found the whole thing confusing, in terms of appearance. The organization he had founded twenty years prior was called "People of Color Kept Entirely Tenuous, "POCKET, and he often joked with seriousness about the pockets of black people being "light." But, now his imprecise musings attempted to weigh not only black and white, but rich and poor, slave masters and slaves, and even Eli versus Earth. In depressed moments he regretted having gotten involved in the whole messy affair. But, he was in it and didn't see any way out other than retirement, and he had no intention of doing that at age 52. He reached a solid conclusion. There was no need to attempt to re-invent the wheel. He did what every good executive does when confronted with an insurmountable problem. He cancelled his whirlwind tour before he might say something he would later lament and called for an emergency meeting of his board.

At the meeting, board members made no judgments and requested more information; lots of it. Preacher Al reversed his field, came to a courageous conclusion and said so; "It has become abundantly clear to me that what we are about, or what we should be about, is to be the voice for the disenfranchised. Until advised otherwise, I will consider oppression as oppression, and do what I can to help balance the scales, regardless of the victim's skin color."

The momentary silence was broken by a dour, deeply wrinkled black man who almost inaudibly mumbled; "That's what Martin said just before they killed him."

### Chapter 18

Displaying capabilities gathered from the decades long, well-practiced ritual of being unable to find undocumented Mexicans crossing the Rio Grande River in broad daylight, US Intelligence became aware of the huge Eli migration three days after every American with a TV knew of it. They obtained the classified information through paid and protected informants. The five Darkie, white skinned Elis, each unaware of the other four, were each buncoed by the Federal agents, who then became most concerned with what approach would be most feasible to obtain a substantial discount from Mazzerati.

To obtain a virtual certainty Intelligence Analysis, managers compared and contrasted, blinded compare sighted, doubled down with prejudice and performed other tests, so as not to bear more than a .0005% chance of being incorrect. When rushed, as they were in this case, the tests took two weeks to perform, during which time the world had rotated on its axis fourteen times, which obliterated the antecedent two week point of stasis. However, while that is known by all involved the process serves to cover Intelligence' ass, as they were statistically assured of being correct 99.9995% as of the date commenced, bearing the relevance and analogy to a 12-31-57 "Statement of Financial Condition" issued by a CPA firm on 3-31-58. Nonetheless, the painstaking due diligence, professionally rendered, in this case served as a testimony to the previous speculation that the US was being inundated with thirty million beings (more or less, depending on the statistical inference utilized in anecdotal, naked eye observation) which looked like Earthlings (with exceptions), but claimed to be from another galaxy (though that purported galaxy has not been observed by any Earth bound telescope, and therefore in the world of physics, does not exist.)

The highest possible level meeting of CIA, Army Intelligence, Marine Intelligence, Navy Intelligence and Classified Special Operations Intelligence heads was held. The terms bear a high possibility of being oxymoronic, as the heads were all Presidential appointees, with little or no previous experience in the intelligence industry. Perhaps consequently, it produced concrete results, insofar as the ruling combined Federal dogmatism, but also incorporated the opportunity for local judgment. Having had the opportunity to review the information prior to the meeting, all attendees came to the same conclusion. Under the threat of removing Federal funding, local police departments were charged with the responsibility of rounding up the invaders. The Feds ruled that if they were found to be valid US citizens they were to be immediately released. If they were of this Earth, but not US citizens they were to be deported to their homeland. If they were from somewhere out of this world, they were to be incarcerated and threatened with deportation. As the only legal remedy open to authorities was deportation and considering that the US had no practical way of sending an extra-terrestrial back home, in practice local police were ordered to incarcerate them and "bust their balls" for two days, and then release them, with the instruction to "Go back where you came from." The methodology used to determine the place of origin of those without papers was not federally dictated and was explicitly left to the discretion of the locals. The reasoning was fivefold; first, the Feds did not want to provide the "un-American" opponents of the "security measure" with one simple target for court action. They would be compelled to get bogged down in the time and expense of filing lawsuits in thousands of jurisdictions, all with differing circumstances; second, it was consistent with the principles of home rule; third, they had no idea of how to determine an alien; fourth, it left them with an abundance of wiggle room; and fifth, since the feds were expending no personal time on the project, their hours remained free to shake down Mazzerati and other manufacturers, distributors and retailers of desirable, status consumer goods.

Reluctantly, local Police Officers were forced to put the pursuit of thieves, intermediaries, and retailers of stolen goods on the back burner. Instead they spent their days randomly checking people for inserted chips, found some, and busted balls for two days. They also found un-chipped people who confessed to being from Eli, who they referred to local UFO communities or, in the case of small towns where one was not in existence, the local church.

The utilization of a metal detector, the most common method of determining "chipping," was soon useless thanks to a jamming device designed and run off by the Completions gratis. They did not require threats of coercion as they found the subversive nature of the work extremely exciting.

Despite a severe drop-off in detainees after the first few days, some Elis were still ****** about the whole thing. They tended to be the members of the military, armed with "silver bullets," who had become very accustomed to a lifetime of telling others what to do with authority behind it. Their attitudes might be summed up in the statement of Sunny Lieutenant Martin (The Brain) Rowley, when he told his V&V buddies; "I ain't going to get hassled by some stupid Earth ape. No ******* way," just prior to dropping his "silver bullet" in an antique bar spittoon.

Though "The Brain" wasn't one of the perpetrators, likely due to the drying out process required by his "flashing projectile," four military Elis zapped four "overbearing" local cops for having the audacity to question one of the Peace Corps "elite." Despite having been instructed not to use their "silver bullets," the "renegades" felt insulted and took solace in the disobedience and growth in stature displayed by almost thirty million Elis instructed to remain small. The four considered themselves judicious by comparison as each committed his act only when they were in the "right" situation; not seen, not on camera and not sober. The resultant missing cops did not become anything more than a local curiosity, as the four zapped officers were from different cities, and their disappearances were initially attributed to the PTSD related stress endemic to their job. Furtive "rumors" of the events worked their way through the Eli military community, devoid of any condemnation. Local American residents would not have had any interest had they known of the assault on the supposed enforcers of law and order, for as far as they were now concerned they had none. Without police interference thieves made a target of everything they considered salable, including mailboxes, fashionable running attire, bicycles and shoes. Both the US people and the US businesses became mad as hell at having been victimized by the federally mandated, locally improvised and implemented operation to harass Elis. They became vocal, and the more people who spoke out, the more people were encouraged to vent their frustrations. Their case consolidated to a simple inarguable one. To date they knew of no US people having been hurt in any way by those claiming to come from Eli. (They didn't know of the four cops' demise, and if they did, it would not have changed their opinion.) They saw a staggering, rapid increase in the number of US citizens and businesses becoming crime victims. They attributed this to police fascination with hassling peaceful Elis. They blamed the usual scapegoats; the government; local, remote and in-between; this time with some degree of accuracy.

With more than the usual disorder in the streets and the exponentially growing, open and angry dissatisfaction, President Francis X. Stabile invited CIA Director Romero (Rummy) Portasan to the Gray House for a chat. Frank was waiting alone in the Elliptical Office when Rummy arrived, and rather than utilizing his customary approach of initiating the conversation with the usual pleasantries, got right to the point, his voice echoing from the walls of the huge, empty chamber. "I suppose you know why I called you here."

Portasan didn't have the slightest idea, as he had spent the last few days swimming and tanning on the Greek island of Skorpios, courtesy of the "Defense Contractors for Homeland Security," a non-profit organization. There were unconfirmed reports of a sighting of Osama Bin Laden at one of the four star hotels. "Rummy" was aware that Osama was reported dead almost fifty years prior, but given what he had learned of "Intelligence" in the two years he had been in charge of it, he thought it appropriate to personally investigate; and it wouldn't cost the taxpayers a nickel. But, being somewhat sensitive to being the top man in Intelligence, he didn't want to admit he had a blind spot, especially to the man who appointed and had the authority to remove him, so he chuckled and answered; "I certainly have a strong suspicion," and hoped that Frank's next comment would tip him off.

Frank said; "This isn't working out at all and it has to stop."

Rummy sighed and tried to remember what his last conversation with the President entailed. He thought; "The Mayflower madam? No, that was more than a year ago. The best place to dock a private yacht? No, there's no reason to stop that. Where America is vulnerable to terrorism, not including the southern border? Maybe, I'll try that." He cautiously and vaguely responded; "We're fully aware of the problem with security and have already taken steps to withstand patrols."

Frank raised his voice in disbelief, saying; "Withstand! The people are demanding that the manpower would be better utilized catching crooks!"

"Rummy" thought he might be on the right track, just going in the wrong direction. He chortled and replied; "No, no. I didn't say withstand. I said wither."

"Hell, wither. I want them withdrawn."

"I couldn't agree more. I was of the same opinion, but I mistakenly deferred to a career CIA grunt."

"Well, just get it done pronto."

Frank exited the Elliptical Room and "Rummy" immediately made arrangements to have all Federal employees removed from the Mexican border and reassigned to hunting Elis.

Two days later, in Indianapolis, Federal Agents detained two fortyish, male, Sunny Elis who were skate boarding with some Earth kids. They were in the courtyard of a shopping mall, keeping to the simple stuff, like remaining erect on their board, as this was new to their repertoire. In addition to their being Elis, the Feds were irate as they didn't think it looked right for dark men their age to be playing with teenage white boys. They were brought downtown in handcuffs and left to sit in jail for 48 hours without being informed of the charges and not getting legal representation. They were released at 2AM, when no public transportation was available.

Preacher Alvin Blunt was visiting with Sunny Elis in Detroit when he was told of the Indianapolis Skateboarding Event. He was truly shocked, first asking for confirmation and then when it was readily forthcoming, got mad as hell and said; "I thought this was America, *********. Land of the free? My big black ass. .......... Yeah, you can quote me on that." He sputtered; "This, this, this is an illegal search and detainment."

As soon as he completed his itinerary in Detroit he reorganized his schedule and flew to Indianapolis, Civil Rights Attorney in tow. His organization, POCKET, filed a case specific lawsuit, but intended for the benefit of all Elis.

While he was in a litigious mood he took the attorney to Los Angeles and also filed one on behalf of the sequestered, pale Completions against the Sunny Eli slaveholders, specifically the government headed by Zeus Indiffant. The Sunny leadership was puzzled, as they didn't know whose side Preacher Al was on. While the answer was simply the oppressed, Zeus didn't see it that way and determined that Preacher Al was not one in which to confide. While the Completions appreciated his efforts, Jonathan Oppenheimer was oddly amused, danced over to the Man of God, maniacally grinned at him and said; "When we get out it's all over. Don't you know that?" He walked away, eyes on the ceiling.

The Preacher was incredulous and yelled back; "Hey, jackass. Don't you know that I'm on your side trying to help?"

Jonathan stopped and looked back at the Preacher, saying; "You really want to help? You're one of those helpful mother *******?"

Preacher Al made no response, only stared in anger and disbelief.

Jonathan added; "If you have a sister big and black like you, send her around here." ........... He licked his lips and continued; "Around lunch time."

The Preacher's befuddled look continued and he second guessed POCKET's lawsuit, thinking; "Maybe these Completions are truly crazy and have to be institutionalized. I think I stepped over a line. I hope it wasn't a thick one."

When the southern Arizona border residents sent out a gigantic howl President Frank Stabile found out what Rummy had done. He immediately called Rummy's civil service subordinate, George Buckley, and informed him that Rummy was going to be dismissed and that he was to be the Acting CIA Director. "And the first thing you will direct is the immediate end of the Eli search and the re-direction of personnel to the southwestern border." He paused prior to adding; "That's southwestern United States. .......... You know, Arizona, New Mexico, California, like that."

George said; "I know, I know. I'm not a stupid political appointee."

Robby Allison was enjoying his celebrity and advisory status. Right wing radio talk shows fancied having him as a guest. They paid real money and Robby didn't have to leave his folk's house to do the job. After saying; "America for the Americans," he didn't have much to say and chuckled a lot as he basked in the accolades bestowed on him. He received a six figure advance to write a book, or to have someone write it for him to be titled; "I Could Have Gotten Away With Murder." He decided that communicating his insight and experience to the general public was a more significant way to stand up for America than to pay the price of being an animal abuser. His parents were thrilled with the news as they immediately envisioned Robby having enough money to leave their house.

Not surprisingly, Robby Allison inspired groups became larger, better armed and more vocal. Though the Elis flocked to big cities the groups sprung up in isolated backwaters. They held media covered rallies miles from the nearest Eli. They were substantially content to act menacing and self-assured, but on occasion they did do drive-bys in big cities and shot at targets their "American" instincts told them were Elis, for the most part resulting in shattered glass. Many established websites to demonstrate their writing acumen.

Constantine Weathers, a rogue military Eli in Dallas concluded that everyone except him was doing as they wished. His simple view was that Robby Allison was the spark which started the flames, and that, as on Eli, it was his mission to keep things neutral and safe for Elis, as at home, by setting examples. He spent a few days casing the Allison residence and found that Robby was alone in the private backyard in the afternoons, as his beleaguered mom and dad daily sat at the mall. "Con" came over small, got large when he entered the back yard, and obliterated Robby Allison with his "silver bullet." He thought that on Earth the lack of a body would preclude any idea of murder. He was right, insofar as the thought went, but the deed worked against the Eli interest as the anti-Eli groups thought that the US government, which was popularly seen as pro-Eli, did something with him. Stories of his abduction or murder abounded, and more than ever Robby's supporters and borderlines worshipped their missing and/or martyred hero.

Many Americans were outraged at the number of Elis in their midst and the liberal New York News printed a back page piece with a couched endorsement of the skinheads, the stereotypical, but false image of a Robby Allison supporter, saying that "Clean scalps may suggest a clean head." The article was ostensibly another psychological "insight;" this one extrapolated from a "professional" psychiatrist survey, which purported to strongly suggest that chosen hair styles were an external view inward, and in "normal" times would have been interpreted for what it was worth, but under the circumstances .......... . When feminists complained that the commentary was anti-female as women do not shave their heads, the News printed a front page apology. However, they went on to point out that they considered the pop piece ridiculously over-analyzed; that they did not endorse any particular interpretation and/or expansion; and that women's heads can be brilliant, equal and beautiful, without being clean. Ma and Pa Allison were glad that Robby was finally out of their house, hoped he wouldn't come back and attempted to interest TV talk shows in having them discuss their life with the fallen American hero.

Joshua sat in his midtown Manhattan, sixty-eighth floor hotel room and searched his computer for good news. He correctly inferred that the Robby Allison disappearance was the work of a misguided Eli, but he also thought it obvious how it would be seen, as Earthlings knew nothing of "silver bullets." He rubbed his face and eyes with his hands, his emotions flip-flopped between depression and anger. When he was in Esperanza, which now seemed a decade ago, he anticipated that some Earthlings would do irrational things; it's in their nature. But, initially, he expected Elis to be completely unemotional and rational; and a lot brighter than the Dallas based "silver Bullet" holder.

He expected "transitional" problems, not sure of the specifics, but certain there would be some. But, now Elis were compounding the problems. He felt deficient, as he thought he should have seen it coming. He agonized about that, but got over it and eventually decided that it really didn't matter as he could not have prevented it anyway. And there was no way he was going to be any degree responsible for the deaths of Becky and Grandpa. He realized that his thinking had also become irrational, as he was continuing to feel emotion. Maybe it was the pollution on this strange planet, but he decided to make the best of it in an enjoyable way. He was going to Dallas to try to track down the "silver bullet" happy military man and send him to see Robby Allison. The more he thought about eliminating the misguided trooper, the better he felt. He checked out of the hotel and took a cab to LaGuardia Airport.

### Chapter 19

Becky and Grandpa were sitting on the living room couch. The news was on the TV, but only Grandpa paid any attention to it. Becky was lost in the most recent issue of "Screen" magazine which contained a story about how Rita O'Sullivan, the newest starlet, got into the movies. Rita was quoted as saying that as soon as she turned eighteen, she left home and went to Hollywood. She almost eked out a living by getting parts as an extra, where she met young Under Assistant Director Roy Montgomery. Roy wrote and got a chance to direct "Point Blank," on a miniscule low budget, with her as the female protagonist. It was a hit and she continued to act in Roy's next three films, which had no trouble finding backers. Rita said; "I've been extremely lucky. There are so many other competent young women out there." Asked if she and Roy were an item, she said; "Right now work is the center of both our lives." Becky was encouraged and thought; "While she says she was lucky, she also says she works at it. So will I."

The phone rang and Grandpa kept one eye on the tube and answered; "Ecumenical Funeral Service."

Joshua recognized his voice and replied; "Hi Grandpa. It's Joshua. I'm in your neck of the woods again. I guess you've been watching the news."

"Yeah, something's going to explode."

"You're thinking in Earth terms. Maybe things will just disappear."

"Maybe both. Hey, why don't you stop over."

"I'm not that close. I just landed in Dallas."

"Dangerous place."

"Maybe I'll make it even more dangerous."

"Ever since you guys came here the place is getting more dangerous all over."

Joshua knew that Grandpa meant that as a playful joking remark, but he couldn't help also recognizing the truth in it, and consequently felt guilty; not for anything he had individually done, but for the negative effect of his species' existence. He said; "But not in Esperanza, I hope."

"No, not yet. And I'm not worried, because I have that 'silver bullet' and I'll just plug 'em." He laughed.

Though he always considered it a strong possibility, for the first time Joshua was certain that Becky had given the "silver bullet" to her Grandpa. Despite Grandpa's laugh, he didn't consider the remark funny, but simultaneously realized that it was no different from what he was intending to do in Dallas, which he had previously found amusing in a wicked way. He couldn't think of anything relevant or bright to say, so he merely forced a return laugh.

Grandpa said; "I bet you want to talk to Becky. It'll do her some good as she's sitting here getting lost in movie magazines. I'll put her on the phone."

Joshua heard a clang, some ruffling of papers or wings, and then Becky's animated voice; "I was just reading about Rita O'Sullivan in 'Screen.' She's all the rage you know."

Joshua wasn't sure who or what she was referring to, but he thought that the most obvious guess would seem to suffice in this case. He said; "Hi, Becky. Are you one of her fans?"

"Oh, yes. I'm going to be just like her."

"Is she a big star?"

"The biggest. Don't you know anything?"

Joshua chose to make the most truthful reply and said; "No. ........... But, give me a chance. I haven't been here all that long." He said it jokingly for Becky, but after recent events, didn't consider the statement a pure jest.

"Sorry. But, everyone knows her. Haven't you seen any movies?"

"Sorry, but no. I've been people watching in Manhattan. I'll bet you've seen enough for both of us."

"And Grandpa too. .... Mom. ... Dad. ... The kids at school." She giggled, then added; "I guess you could call me a fanatic."

"Enthusiast sounds better to me. I think it's great that you can get so excited about something."

Becky drew a blank, as Joshua's last remark suggested that some people didn't and for her it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Joshua sensed her hesitation and added; "Elis don't get excited about anything; at least on Eli they didn't."

"What's wrong with them?"

"That's a long story. Fear of disappointment is a large part of it. A wish to be completely rational is another."

"Sounds boring."

"I'm not going to defend it beyond saying that war on Eli no longer exists."

"Sure, you brought it here."

"Have you been watching all the nonsense that is going on?"

"No. I know everything will be okay because you promised me that."

Joshua was genuinely surprised, flattered and speechless. He recognized that he had said something from which he knew she would take that meaning. He recalled his precise statements; that he would find another way and that he'd keep them (Becky and Grandpa) out of trouble. Momentarily, thinking logically, he recognized that he really wanted to stop the war and tried the best he knew how. But he saw that the current events were out of his and everyone's control and they seemed to be headed in a terrible direction. There was wiggle room in his precise pronouncements. He could fulfill the letter of the law even if war broke out. He didn't think Becky would take her loose interpretation of his words as a given. A tear came to his eye as he realized that he was again thinking like those he wished to thwart and of how little control he had on world events. He knew he had been out of Esperanza too long. But, more than ever, he wanted to keep his promise; the way Becky understood it. He chokingly said; "Right you are. There will be no war. You have my word on that. Keep dreaming and the next time we speak I will have seen some Earth movies so we can have something interesting to talk about. Bye, Becky."

"Don't go yet."

"To keep my promise there is work yet to do. Keeping promises isn't easy, you know."

Becky dejectedly said; "All right. Bye. Be careful."

"Bye, Becky." Joshua threw the cell phone to the ground and smashed it under his foot. He started to mentally prepare to find a jerk and kill him.

On September eighth Dallas was still in the throes of intense summer heat. The crooked, perverse skyline climbed from the flat land and jutted into the afternoon light blue like a snaggletooth kid on his way to a pre-arranged appointment with an incompetent dentist. Joshua took a cab to the Trinity River and walked the banks, looking for suitable accommodations. The slow moving, brown water had recently been giving birth to new islands, which exhibited first-year foliage in the form of low, wide grassy plants, popular with pigeons, apparently eager to vacate their under-bridge roosts, now populated by people who wanted to protest in comfort.

The complaints varied in the ten million strong, sprawling city; ranging from those who wanted restrictions on water usage, to those who demanded fair play for Elis, to those who wanted the government to come clean about Robby Allison. The well-behaved, once true believers in the pigeon abandoned throng had long ago made the transition to hawkers of pricey home-made bumper stickers, buttons and severely sweetened espresso. Joshua walked the high ground, a decaying levee built when flooding was still a possibility, sparingly looking down on the painfully predictable "protestors" patronizing bland platitudes. He tired in the monotonous heat and checked into "The Trinity Towers," a fifty floor hotel, one-third of which viewed its namesake.

He had seen his fill of mud and pushers of overpriced "moral" merchandise and took one of the cheaper rooms on the twenty-fifth floor, which faced the oft photographed skyline. Trying to hide the despondence stemming from his lack of a camera, he e-mailed the military Elis in the area.

As Joshua Foucalt was considered an important, heroic and trustworthy man, he quickly received responses. He made arrangements to have dinner with Claude Bennett and Shane Butler at 6PM at the "Indigo Crow."

It was not the flies that prevented the trio from taking an open air table at the bistro; it was the continued heat and humidity. They opted for the air conditioned interior to discover that their predilection was shared by the colorless, winged cuisine's investigation crew of people with nothing to do.

After they sat and ordered, Claude said; "What has Dallas done to be graced with your presence?"

Joshua refrained from making his interest in Robby Allison's killer obvious, because he was reticent to provide entertainment for the on-looking geriatric set and especially since he was certain that piece of "news" would come up somewhere in the course of dinner. He answered with a grin, saying; "Now, you boys should know that my missions are top secret. ......... But, I will tell you this. It's more like what Dallas has not done."

Shane mock sarcastically intoned; "Don't you trust us?"

Joshua made a grimacing smile, reached for his water glass, and saw that a fly also had an interest in it. He put it back down and said; "How do you guys live here?"

Claude and Shane said nothing, but both simultaneously put their coasters on top of their water glasses.

Joshua said; "Nice move."

Claude shook his head and softly replied; "New problems call for new solutions."

Shane followed with; "At first I thought Dallas would be similar to Sunny, Eli; full bright sun. But the humidity is a killer. I don't know if the clouds are a blessing or a curse."

Claude added; "Wind's good."

Joshua stretched his arms skyward and said; "Air conditioning's even better."

The perspiring waitress brought their meals and the trio made the obligatory attestations to the wonders of the Swedish meat balls, shrimp Fra Diavolo and the house specialty; beef au gratin. Joshua saw a bead of sweat drop from her forehead to his Swedish meat balls, and said; "Hot?"

Without missing a beat she said; "Always. This is the Big D. You must be new here." She wiggled away.

Claude said; "There's always somethin' happenin' here. Hear what happened to Robby Allison?"

Joshua said; "Government abduction?"

Shane looked around the room and whispered; "Hell, no."

Joshua caustically said; "He went for a swim in the Trinity and got buried in the mud."

Shane again whispered; "Rogue Eli, man."

Joshua feigned a look of disbelief.

Claude said; "No ********. Fred Grief, Leo Grot and Howard Winterbottom are all bragging about having obliterated Robby."

Joshua said; "Took three?"

Claude answered; "No. The thing is that Elis consider it heroic. So Fred said it first, and after the reaction was so overwhelmingly positive, Leo and Howard chimed in and said they did it."

Joshua laughed and said; "So who was the real hero? Fred alone? Leo alone? Howard alone? In a group?"

Shane said; "Nobody's sure except the shooter. Most think it was Fred."

Claude added; "Leo and Howard are just glory seekers."

Joshua said; "Or maybe Robby just made himself scarce to increase his popularity."

Claude said; "Twisted, but it's been done. Personally, I think Robby was happy with his book deal."

Shane said; "Me too."

Joshua had enough information. So as not to dwell on and tip his primary interest, he changed the subject saying; "**** Robby Allison. Let the Earthlings obsess about the jerk. I hope that one of the Elis did blow him away. I also hope they first tortured him. How's the transition been in Dallas?"

Claude said; "After the shooting everyone is unnerved. Nothing else has physically happened. But the undercurrent is ominous and unsettled."

From there the rest of the dinner conversation progressed (degenerated) into the typical innocuous banalities endemic to (anti?)social gatherings of business associates. Notes were compared regarding accommodations, spouses, kids, mutually known Elis, personal job significance and television. Claude and Shane spoke of luxury at a bargain price, fineness, honor students, good guys, important projects and stink. Joshua had nothing to say and forced many smiles as he eyed the hot and sweaty waitress, before returning to The Trinity Towers.

Joshua used his high security code to download the addresses of all Elis living in Dallas as a smokescreen to cover obtaining those of Fred Grief, Leo Grot and Howard Winterbottom. If any investigator found out, he would say that he had some ideas about establishing security in the dangerous city which didn't pan out. He had never met any of them and was glad of that for a number of reasons; one practical.

The following day he first went to Fred's apartment. When his knock was answered he introduced himself as Chetwood Snodgrass of the Eli History Museum. He was invited in and the two sat at opposing ends of the rectangular kitchen table. He declined an offer of coffee, saying; "I know you are a busy man. So, let me get right to the point."

Fred looked at him quizzically, and he continued; "We have become aware that Robby Allison bit the 'silver bullet' and we consider that a significant part of Eli history."

"Damn right."

"Yes, well, we also consider his assailant to be an Eli patriot and want to put his bronze bust in our Hall of Eminence."

Fred couldn't contain his enthusiasm and blurted; "So, you need me to go somewhere and pose or something?"

"Well, not quite yet. There's a bit of a problem."

Fred quietly contained himself and "Chetwood" continued; "You see three people are taking credit for an act which only necessitated one. We have to find some way to determine the truth."

"Leo Grot and Howard Winterbottom never had the nerve to break a rule in their lives. Any targets they have taken out have been properly approved, and there weren't many of them."

"You're saying you're the man?"

"Yes, I am."

"Chetwood" sincerely smiled, put his right hand under the table, retrieved his "silver bullet" and shot Fred in the balls. "The man" was no more.

Joshua performed substantially the same routine twice more that day, annihilating Leo and Howard with a smile. He was virtually certain that two of the three were merely liars, but considered them guilty, as their motivations were in the wrong place. Pragmatically, he could never be certain that he got Robby's killer, unless he took out all three. Personally, he knew that he accomplished nothing of substance, but he sure as hell felt great.

Joshua went to Dallas International and took the first flight he could get back to Manhattan. During the trip he got an unwelcomed and perplexing thought; "It's possible that all three were glory seeking liars. The real killer could still be surreptitiously out there."

### Chapter 20

The light skinned Darkies in Boise, Austin, Jersey City, Memphis, Little Rock, Sacramento and other cities made inroads into establishing themselves as welcomed and accepted new-coming citizens. They found it not a fully believable event. In only two months on Earth they were able to make slight economic and social advances. Coming from generations of factory workers, they were well skilled in fixing most anything which broke. Earth neighbors appreciated their quick and free service, especially after having suffered through a lifetime of having difficulty finding an honest, competent and affordable workman, as for thirty years America had become a high tech bastion. Upwardly mobile young people invariably did something involving computers, leaving the workings of machinery to the difficult, overpriced, incompetent and I-didn't-feel-like-showing-up lazy. "Gratuities" were offered in the hope of keeping the Darkies happy, in case of the need of a repeat performance. They were taken after two disingenuous refusals, as they needed the money and wanted to be polite. While this may not sound like any great achievement, on Eli the Darkies had endured generations of steady decline. They did fret about the terrible news they were hearing, but didn't personally have the negative experience. There was a material disconnect between what they saw on the public airways and their real experiences.

Though it turned heads, inter-species dating and socializing was a natural outgrowth of meeting as conversations flowed. They seemed to have to make a special effort not to talk into the morning hours comparing notes on the look-alike, but extremely different societies. Though generalities are rife with exceptions and the psychological underpinnings of actions are debatable, it seemed that the Elis were drawn to what they saw as the openness of Earthlings, possibly misinterpreting what was truly an American penchant for appearing to be "just folks." American Anglophiles, in turn were fascinated by the perceived Eli "reserve," which they associated with British patricians, no doubt having drawn the conclusion mistakenly from the Eli dispassionate disposition. Even the foulest of Earthly troublemakers said things like; "At least they're white," "They're so white they're blue," and "They've got a future in mechanics." Their Eli nature prevented them from being too openly gleeful about their pleasant circumstances as they sometimes wondered if the Earthlings were merely temporarily intrigued with the new season's exotics. Still, their overall countenance changed from one of perennial gloom to what might be an oxymoronic phrase; "guarded hopefulness." Some old timers simply said; "So far, so good."

Darkies fully enjoyed seeing and feeling the warmth of the sun, but were careful not to spend too much time in it. Not having to have the noisy and expensive heat running constantly and being able to use the natural light to illuminate their dwellings created a more cheery atmosphere than any had previously known.

On the other side of the coin the formerly cheerful and privileged Sunny Elis quickly became less sunny. Thoughts of three of them having been shot; their energy based largesse gone; their relative status becoming a thing of the past; and their darker skin a possible detriment to their acceptance, preyed on their inquiring and increasingly suspicious minds. Like Americans, their skills were primarily high tech. As a result, American "techies" regarded them as an overabundance of unwanted competition. People needing computer services had a more complicated reaction. Some sought their services if their fees were extremely low. Some wouldn't consider them for a job, as; "Computers on Earth are different from computers on Eli." Some merely dismissed them as more undesirable dark skinned foreigners. Some questioned their unverifiable credentials with degrees from unrated and unknown universities. Some irate American techies lured them to bogus locations and beat them when they got there. It became obvious that Sunny economics was a problem. And without the work-related "introductions" obtained by the Darkies, the Sunny socialization was more appropriately called Sunny isolation.

MARKET DIVES IN SELLING TIDE

Dow Drops 15% in First Hour of Trading.

Wall Street Bugler. 9-15-58. A massive selloff hit the Street hard yesterday which was attributed to government reports released overnight. They indicated that inflation, as measured by the CPI, had risen from the annualized rate of 2.2% in July to an overwhelming 13.3% in August. To compound matters the unemployment rate spiked in a startling manner from 3.8% to 9.3% in the same period. Neither figure had been anticipated. In addition, a rumor circulated that the US government was considering covering Elis in the Social Security program. After a mid-day dead cat bounce, at 2:30PM EST a wave of institutional sell orders decimated trader resources and the market closed the day down 25%, the largest single day drop since February 15, 2020, when a rumor circulated that the Chinese yen had become the world currency.

"It was scary. You couldn't find a buyer with a St. Bernard," said Wallace Bernstein of Goldberg Auchincloss. Ira Braithwaite, Chief Trader at Nutting, Rosen and Calabrese was more opinionated, saying; "It's those ******* Elis. Their sheer number causes the snake to choke trying to swallow them all at once." His choice of analogy aside, his direction is borne out by the slightest bit of inference applied to the cold hard numbers.

The housing rental and food price aspects of the CPI were responsible for the entirety of the increase, and it is clear to this writer that Eli demand was the simple reason. It is less clear, but easily within the realm of probability that Eli employment has negatively affected American ability to find work. Of course the long term effect of increased demand, as has been shown by the Elis, customarily has been a positive influence on the GNP, GDP and employment. However, it's been said many times that in the long run we are all dead. Right now we seem to have aged ten years in the last two months, and the political unrest is an incalculable which .....................

As a result of the rise in unemployment, upsurge in inflation and the loss of wealth attendant to the stock market crash, the overnight less wealthy Americans at the higher end of the economic and education spectrum, and the uneducated rural blue collar, (Most actually preferred variously-hued T-shirts displaying a witty phrase or the logo of their favorite lager.) displaced from jobs or thinking so, demanded the deportation of the "illegal aliens," a term which they apparently felt comfortable in using with their pocketbooks under attack. The "marriage" of the upper and the lower left the middle feeling as though they were somehow out of step; missing something; a vague gnawing with which they were all too familiar. Along racial lines the majority of black Americans felt that Preacher Al was spending too much of his time with the aliens and not enough with their undisclosed issues.

The Preacher got death threats, most coming through public access computer e-mails, saying; "Don't come here, Eli lover, or else." and "Don't go there, Eli lover, or else." The dour, deeply wrinkled, black man on the POCKET board shrugged and mumbled; "I told you so." Mexican émigrés without papers thought they too had an issue; though after the impassioned diatribes were stripped away, it boiled down to something about their being in America longer, a consideration with which they were uncomfortable. The inter-species dating, which didn't previously win any popularity awards, became intolerable to most, especially when it involved a Sunny man and a white American woman. Right wing evangelicals were vitriolic in their denunciations, citing chapter and verse of God's condemnations of bestiality. Public opinion polls showed that a majority now wanted police to resume looking for Eli illegals.

Cronos remained 99% sure that the Earthlings did not have Eli comparable weaponry. He became extremely wary of the louder and louder rumblings coming from all directions and again made his case for war. This time, rather than calling a special emergency session, he waited for a regularly scheduled Ministerial meeting. He didn't expect to have his plan approved, but he relished being on the record regarding the issue as it left him with the future opportunity to say to the public; "I repeatedly told them so," in the event hindsight proved war the correct option. He was surprised to find that this time Marshall Ordnance, who was upset with the loss of three of his Dallas men, was now in agreement, but insisted on an all-out attack. Regardless of scope differences, it didn't matter as they were outvoted by the "We Need More Information" trio and Zeus, who in practicality was the only one who counted. Cronos took him as being mildly encouraging when rather than being totally dismissive, he said; "It is premature. As events unfold we can reassess."

President Frank Stabile received a plethora of calls from the largest contributors to his party. Some saw the Elis as positive long term potential growth. Some saw them as parasites requiring extermination, and barring that, deportation or incarceration. Some wanted their labor to be encouraged. Some wanted it contained. Everyone agreed on three things; they wanted inflation to drop; they wanted an end to the unrest; and they wanted the market to go back up. Frank had made his political life with a genius for giving the money people what they wanted and at the same time giving them what they didn't want, but leaving them convinced that it would soon come. But, this time the groups were diametrically opposed, having divergent positions on all issues. In addition he felt it necessary to at least somewhat placate the stated positions of the non-money people as he was up for re-election in a little over a year. While he had no solutions, he did have the experience to know what to do. He decided to make a speech.

After working his masters of saying nothing with many words, sometimes referred to as speech writers, around the clock, Frank had his people pre-empt prime time television, in an effort to set the American public straight on what was going on and how it should be viewed. Most of the electorate was used to the game, but continued to play it because it was the only one in town. They knew at least 90% of facts would spin a mule dizzy and that the whole thing was going to be dragged out with appropriate pauses for obligatory applause. Some chose to divert to the internet, concentrating on sites specialized in the filming of the first days of newborn birds, anything on Youtube, UFOlogy, celebrity news and depictions of black femdom prurient interests.

Those with the shyness and sense of humor to remain on traditional TV watched the clone programming abruptly end, and after some interference, saw a congregation of American flags. They hung down seemingly desperate for a breeze to afford full extended glory. The stripes made do, as they were able to make their rumpled presence known, however the stars were buried in folds and were generally invisible to onlookers. A prudent TV director suggested the utilization of a wind machine, but was overruled by representatives of the President, who were concerned that the resultant draft might expose his painstakingly coiffed bald spots.

Smiling Frank walked to the podium, while making condescending nods and ersatz grins to those in the money with front row seats. After reaching the pedestal, he collected his notes, cleared his throat and read; "Thank you all. Mr. Speaker, Vice President Weller, members of Congress, members of the Supreme Court and diplomatic corps, distinguished guests, and fellow citizens. My fellow Americans. And I mean ALL my fellow Americans, regardless of place of origin." Spontaneous applause from the back of the room almost hid a low groan in front.

"Our country is considered so desirable a place to live that the good people of Eli have come light years to share in our bounty. Our reputation is no longer merely world-wide; it is inter-galactic. Now, I'm not saying that they have yet earned the rights of full citizenship, but they have earned the right to be treated with respect and dignity." He paused and loud hoots and whistles accompanied enthusiastic applause, mixed with a longer lasting audible grumble.

"Recently our nation lost a decisive, charismatic and popular man who reminded America of its founding ideals and pursued a noble dream. Today we are comforted by the hope of a happy reunion and we are grateful for the good life of Robby Allison." Loud, spontaneous applause and whistles from the front of the room drowned out surprised calls of "What?" from the rear.

"Every time I come to this rostrum, I'm aware of the history we're seeing together. We have gathered here in moments of national tragedy and in moments of national comedy." He paused, wrinkled his brows and looked to his left, presumably where the speech writer sat. He got mistaken obligatory applause from a few embarrassed supporters who weren't paying attention. "We are serving this great country in one of the most important periods in history. We always must keep in mind that in the check and balance system brilliantly established by our founders, with two major parties, two houses, four races and two species there will always be disagreement. But it must be debated in a civil manner, and our differences cannot become hatred. To confront the great issues before us, we must act in a spirit of goodwill and respect for one another." He paused and one drunken congressman clapped, thinking the respect mentioned applied to him. He quickly stifled. What he now tried to convey was his mock enthusiasm when he saw that the rest of the room appeared puzzled, remained silent and stared at him.

Frank smiled, surveyed the room and received perplexed stares of his own. He shuffled through his cards, skipping many. In an apparent attempt to return to a common ground subject, said; "Our stock market is the best capital managing tool the world has ever known. However, its day to day fluctuations cannot be predicted by the best of minds; and they have been trying since inception in the nineteenth century. However, I'll tell you this. By law my assets are in a blind trust. But, if they weren't I'd be buying on the dips. The underpinnings of the economy are fundamentally sound."

Having received unanimous applause after the last sentence, Frank re-shuffled his cards, and proceeded to spout banalities for the duration of the speech. When concluded he walked off and waved off any questions.

### Chapter 21

In Detroit, Castor Williams turned off the television in disgust, turned to his reclining, Sunny brother Pollux and said; "That's it! That's ******* it! The ************* President supports the shooting of Elis!"

"Didn't you hear the ******** about respect, dignity and civil debate?"

"Precisely that; ********. War against us has been sanctioned on the highest level and our own leaders need more information. ****!"

Pollux chided; "My brother has become opinionated and emotional."

"******* right. It's our lives at stake."

"..........................."

"We could blast the ************* as we originally planned and put an end to all this nonsense. It gets worse daily."

"We don't have 'silver bullets.' We'll be the ones blasted."

Castor was vehement when he said; "We'll recruit some discontented military men. There has to be plenty."

Pollux shrugged and said; "I'm not thrilled with the situation either. Earth is certainly not Eli."

"Exactly, and someone's got to make it that way. The government abdicated."

"Well, let's just say for sake of argument that I agree with you. Who or what are you going to target?"

"Anybody and anything American. Random, just like they're doing to us."

Pollux shook his head with his eyes on the floor, but was grinning. He said; "My radical brother."

Castor added; "It's easier for us that way. No pattern. We'll be hard as hell to catch. We can stay small and go wherever we want. And we can take out commercial buildings. Hit them where it hurts most; in the pocketbook."

Pollux queried; "And we'll do this the rest of our lives?"

"Until they stop the Robby Allison imitators, end the police hassles and get an Eli sympathetic President."

"Far ******* out."

Thus was born "EDICT," the "Eli Defense Initiative for a Changing Testament," which was eventually to grow to an incalculable number of members; some technically belonging to other affiliated and like-minded independent organizations. The public became aware of their existence a week later, when the brothers took the initiative, forsaking the study and used a speedboat carried explosive to blow a hole in a Greek freighter carrying Chinese toilet bowls, which suffered water damage, to the UK. They had the foresight to be in the other speedboat. A British blogger re-coined their moniker to "Evil Defecatory Incontinents Chucking Terrorism." It caught on and in time the majority of Brits and Americans believed that this was their true name and their "edict" was largely considered to be simply destruction of the free world's or the world's free excretory processes. The totality of EDICT at this point, Castor and Pollux, celebrated that their sought US "pocketbook" impact was realized through the temporary shortage and resultant quadrupling in price of low water flush commodes in three UK counties, a minor middle Eastern consortium insurance outlay approved at a middling level and an outlay of US$7,854.09 by Greek ship owners to arm Greek freighter seamen with otherwise useless, stockpiled US bazookas, rejected by a number of African counter-insurgent groups.

Recruitment was initially difficult for a few very good reasons; 1)Most Elis still had difficulty making a meaningful decision, and the possibility of becoming "radical" pushed their envelopes into their concept of the stratosphere; the ceiling, 2)Castor and Pollux found it difficult to approach other Elis and say; "Would you like to help us blow up some things. We have our good reasons," 3)Most Elis thought it was extremely gauche to use explosives and projectile firing devices, as this was what they were told was the methodology of the "archaic" Earthlings, reminiscent of some century old action movie, starring someone on steroids capable of grunting, 4)Many thought this was their Zeus-led government's job, and if they did it for them, the elected would just be encouraged to be lazier than they already were, 5)Elis distinctly disliked living small, 6)Some of the women thought this might upset Frank, and they didn't want to do that as they thought he was cute, 7)Many thought their parents would be angry, 8)Most didn't want to live in grubby hideouts, 8)Most already had access to a serviceable privy, 9)Military Elis didn't like taking orders from civilians, and 10)Many did not want to risk incarceration and torture.

Enrollment surged when Brian Feldstein, agent for aging T&A actress Barbie Standpipe, announced that she was joining EDICT, as she had grown to disdain her bourgeois existence, saw that small was beautiful and wanted to do what was right. This was accompanied by a short film clip of her in a leafy backyard hot tub, saying; "I'm an American and I believe in freedom. Free love is all!" She then stood to reveal her assets and the film ended with a giggle and a splash. While no one has been able to testify to her getting small, "Screen" magazine reported that her people were in negotiation with Prominent Pilose Productions for the starring role in their next scheduled après-garde film, which has a working title of "Take It as It Comes," ostensibly having something to do with Jim Morrison's difficulties with the legally imposed limitations of performance art. For the non-history buffs, he was an ill-fated rocker in the age of the dinosaurs.

Joshua woke and went to a local café for breakfast. He purchased a newspaper, and while he waited for his coffee, ham and eggs, he was greeted with:

BLUNT DEAD

Shot Down Resting at Jersey Shore

New York Herald, September 25, 2058.

The nation is mourning the assassination of the most prominent member of the black activist community, Preacher Alvin Blunt. While taking some well-deserved time off in Mantoloking, NJ, Preacher Alvin Blunt fulfilled his dour board member, Nathan Gaunt's prophecy by being gunned down. Bodyguard Trevor Washington said that the Preacher was on the second floor deck of his Atlantic Ocean-front rental house, when a person in a black wetsuit exited the ocean carrying what was first thought to be a commonplace harpoon used for fishing. In New Jersey the beachfront is legally public land, utilized by swimmers, boaters, fishermen, dog-walkers and anyone else who wants to be there. But, the "harpoon" turned out to be a .22 in a black case, with which he opened fire, hitting Blunt three times. His bodyguards took cover under the barrage and the person scampered to the road, where a car waited. As they drove away on Mantoloking Road, Blunt's bodyguards gave pursuit, but were soon hopelessly stymied in dense weekend shore traffic.

The Preacher was pronounced dead on arrival at Shoretown Emergency Hospital at 2PM EST. He leaves behind a wife and three children, two boys and a girl.

In addition to his well-publicized past activities, including the founding of POCKET, the ground-breaking Blunt vs. The City of New York case, which compelled the city to refrain from investigating street people, "who gave the appearance of being homeless," and the controversial Blunt vs. The Borough of Brooklyn, which legalized public urination, "if there was no public restroom within ten thousand feet and the urinator was more than ten thousand feet from home," he recently instituted a number of suits on behalf of, and against the Elis.

He was warned that while one is tolerated in taking up the case of black people, one has crossed a line when the case is extended to others, involving a larger constituency. There exists a minority opinion that ninety years ago, the seminal Reverend Martin Luther King, was assassinated shortly after publicly announcing that his mission wasn't only about black people; that it was about poor people .......................

Joshua thought; "Oh, ****," as he inadvertently let his coffee, ham and eggs get cold, oblivious to everything else while reading the obituary. Under the current circumstances he was not surprised; just disappointed. He considered who the culprit might have been and he had many suspicions, one emanating from what sounded like a half assed story from Blunt's bodyguards; "Letting a person with a HARPOON approach. Then taking cover. Then attempting pursuit and getting stymied in weekend traffic." Having never visited, he didn't know that weekend Jersey shore stymy was a distinct possibility, even entering off-season. Nonetheless, it seemed to him that there was a good possibility that the guards were complicit, perhaps hopeful of stepping into the Preacher's shoes or perhaps they vehemently did not approve of the Preacher's "abandonment" of black causes they interpreted from his boundary extension into Eli territory. Or maybe they just hated Elis. It had become not uncommon.

The traditional racist forces were another possibility. While the question was; "Why now?" the answer could be that they were now provided with many potential smoke screen villains.

Maybe it was the anti-Eli skinheads. Very obvious, but that's the way they are.

Maybe it was everyday black people who wanted a leader who pursued only their interests. Other organizations existed and allegiance could have been switched in a non-violent, monetary manner. Did emotion overcome rationality?

Maybe it was a radical Eli, who thought Blunt's prominence was a detriment to his own.

Maybe it was his heir apparent, or someone who mistakenly and wishfully thought they were the heir apparent.

Maybe it was orchestrated by his wife, who had to endure public knowledge of the Preacher's indiscretions. Cops always take the spouse as the first suspect.

Maybe it was the Federal Government, excessively tired of his black ass. Not likely, as it was done right. He got in; he got out; and didn't become famous while he was there. Smart competent person. Maybe it was an indie operative maneuver attempting to impress someone in the Federal government, in the hopes of getting an overseas contract.

Maybe he was just plain nuts, and had not experienced a BM in days.

If the bodyguard account of the incident was to be believed, two people were involved; a conspiracy. Yet Joshua suspected that no one would ever be brought to justice for the slaying of this well-intentioned man.

Maybe the event would give rise to many people writing books about their "knowledge" of and/or participation in the tragedy, further confusing matters.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. What was clear to Joshua was that a good man was gone, America continued on Chaos Road, Elis had become irrational, that he had made a promise to a little girl he loved, that that promise appeared to be harder and harder to fulfill, and that he passionately wanted to kill all the villains. But, he had no idea who they were.

He dejectedly walked back to his room under the rumbling gray sky, oblivious to the teeming reality which surrounded him on all sides. He wasn't aware of it, but he had become a typical Manhattan habitué. When he got there he found a red swastika, in still wet, running, garish paint, on his door. Dry lightning hit the roof antennae making lights blink.

In Cripple Creek, Michigan, an isolated backwater, an old eccentric white man used his skinhead oriented blog to covertly suggest "That the US was better off without/before the Eli migration." While in "normal" times he would have been overjoyed with the Preacher's demise, he saw the event as a door to re-establishing the "relevance" his family had years prior. Mark Ritt, now 75 years of age, was the nerdy, bookish son of the deceased Garson Ritt, who, sixty years ago, at the end of the last century, wrote a carefully worded anti-Federal government pamphlet he called a book, which became the skinhead Bible until everyone else also became anti-Federal government and wrote their own books. In his blog Mark referred to Blunt as an Earthling, rather than a black, and utilizing the extremely unlikely theory that an Eli killed Blunt, he termed the event a "trans-species killing that once again shows us the true nature of the monsters." The "call to arms" proved exciting to his father's audience as well as camouflaged, covert, big city baldies.

Sunny Elis were verbally abused and intimidated by groups of belligerents, many old enough to know better, in the streets of Baltimore, Binghamton, Bar Harbor, Boston and Chicago. Minor physical attacks requiring no hospitalization plagued Brooklyn, Bethesda, Los Angeles and Dallas. Spray painted swastikas appeared on doors throughout the country, amplified by the tagging by bored kids who really had no opinion on the matter, but thought it cool.

President Frank Stabile sat alone in the Elliptical Office and fretted about the escalating violence. He was constrained by the rule of law and an inability to determine who was breaking it. He regretted having paid politically intended homage to Robby Allison, whose action, hindsight finally suggested to him was the beginning of the chaos. But, he didn't find it productive to dwell on that and he couldn't overtly contradict, if possible, his recent speech to the nation. His primary concern was his impending run for re-election. He knew he was obliged to say something about Preacher Al Blunt's assassination, but he felt that if he said something positive, it would be taken as another endorsement of a controversial character. Yet, if he said nothing, it would be taken as a rejection of the man many admired for his peaceful pursuit of justice. He thought; "Times are difficult, but when were they not?" He decided to have his speechwriters carefully prepare a short positive statement and commission the making of a bronze bust for the White House lawn.

Having come to that pervasive conclusion, he saw that he had only dealt with the easiest part of the problems.

With the growing disregard for law and order, the strengthening of the anti-Federal government feelings and the confusing, widening divisions between all groups he considered the country ripe for an attack from any of a number of opportunistic directions. In his duty as Commander-in-Chief and considering his legacy of possibly being "the ******* in charge when America fell," he decided that his best option was a bluff. He had his most trusted people "leak" to the far left wing press that America was stockpiling advanced weapons, which were obtained from the advanced technology of immigrants and that the powers that be were intentionally letting things get out of control, in the hopes that one of their international rivals was fooled into attacking, thereby giving America the excuse to obliterate them once and for all, stimulating the economy. Regarding the street violence, he came to the simple conclusion that Elis did not vote and the number of their Earthling supporters was a dwindling minority. Regarding the killing of Blunt, he rationalized that he never got any of the black vote anyway. Any further "initiatives" were best reserved for the next convention, when the empty words would draw voluminous applause, foot stomping and whistles. Regarding the economy and the stock market, he would have his writers add a bit to his Blunt speech that "the underpinnings of the economy are fundamentally sound," and deflect any possible questions about precisely what "underpinnings" were.

No Earthly powers put any credence in the "stockpiling of advanced weapons" nonsense. They had no thoughts of attacking anyway, as if they were successful in decimating America, who would buy what they manufactured and mined?

However, the Eli Ministers had to put credence in Stabile's bluff, as they had not found the missing "silver bullet" once owned by Ares Jarrod. Their simple logic was that it had to be someplace and if it were in the hands of an individual citizen it would have been used or commercialized by now. Therefore the most likely holder was the government. Cronos was the only one who thought otherwise, but he was compelled to remain silent about his belief that it was in the possession of Joshua.

At their regularly scheduled meeting the subject again came up, this time prompted by Marshall Ordnance, who was mad as hell that his three men were still "missing."

Cronos chronicled the attacks on Sunny Elis and that "many" Sunnies now want to resort to the original plan and kill all Earthlings, regardless of the risk. The "We Need More Information" trio reported that Darkies called for patience and peace. They didn't say and might not have known that the primary reason for this was that no Darkie had been attacked. Zeus ruled that damages were physically minimal and there will be no change in plans.

Darker-skinned Darkies infiltrated EDICT, the radical Sunny group. They viewed them as irrational trouble makers, giving the impetus for violence. They had seen that all attacks had been on Sunnies and had no personal interest in the trouble. EDICT took them in as they are incompetent, desperate for company and personally flattered. The undercover agent's mission was to sabotage and inform. They saw little play in going to their own government, so they contacted US intelligence and offered their services. Of course it was accepted as the Feds had nothing to lose in the arrangement, but they wondered if this was some sort of a ruse and planned to take any conveyed information with a grain of salt.

Another significant event occurred, with world-wide implications over and above the specificity of the incident itself. If one had paid heed to the precise words of tricky Zeus, when at a recent meeting he closed it with; "It (war) is premature. As events unfold we can reassess," they, as Cronos, would understand that there was a limit on his acquiescence to the forces which sought 100% certainty.

The first Eli to be murdered on Earth was found dead, the victim of multiple bullet wounds. In the apartment he shared with his brother, radical Sunny co-founder of EDICT, Castor Williams' body was discovered by Pollux.

### END OF SECOND EPISODE

### Chapter 22

With the exception of a few anti-social hermits, the entire country heard of the events and was worried that the murders of Preacher Alvin Blunt and Castor Williams would lead to an increase in violence, from an already intolerable level. Of course, the most significant question of the day became; "Who did it?" If the population was fortunate, the killer of Blunt would turn out to be another black man and that of Williams another Eli, thereby not giving any impetus for anyone to look for revenge beyond their own circle. Odds were strongly against people being lucky on both counts. Quick answers were necessary as everyone wanted retribution to be rendered on their favorite villain, whether or not they were guilty.

Joshua walked the morning, early autumn streets of Manhattan, and saw that the specimen street trees were turning, showing lots of red and yellow, a harbinger of the return of the cold. He zipped his green jacket against the breeze and was deep in reverie concerning the killings. While he wasn't personally the least bit disturbed by the death of Castor Williams, he thought that his demise would be viewed by some as a martyrdom, which would result in him and his misguided cause becoming infinitely more popular than it warranted. He thought it ironic and amusing that his efforts to defend Elis resulted in the first Eli fatality; his own. The list of potential assailants ran a yard and included his brother, Pollux. He strongly suspected that the answer would never be known as the murder of an Eli in Detroit didn't even have the stature of an animal killing in Dallas and would not be investigated. He hoped that someone would make some sort of a mistake. Conversely, the assassination of Al Blunt, and the probable increase in posthumous popularity didn't concern him. What did was a fear that the incidents would lead to an increased breach between black and white Earthlings and black and white Elis. With lines now regularly crossed, he saw the possible permutations as four factorial, twenty-four.

The potential new problems were so obvious that even Becky forgot about her exciting plans for the future. Daily news reports took precedence over her dreams of a glamorous film career. Grandpa tried to assuage her fears, using the method at which he was most adept. He told stories. He told her of the past, trying to find examples of similar events which seemed impossibly hopeless in their time, but somehow worked out. No matter the soundness of the analogy, Becky always made the same response; "But, they didn't have 'silver bullets' back then."

An early frost curtailed the Esperanza apple season, severely diminishing the number of farm workers staying at the Hawley rooming house. The quiet served as an inducement to do what was useless and morose. Becky dwelled on unpleasant thoughts. She had good company. Her Mom and Dad agonized and argued about their money shortage. While they thought their problems were as bad as they could be, they didn't have the disadvantages of Becky and Grandpa. Without thinking about it, they assumed that whatever happened in the rest of the US, the family would be unscathed in remote Esperanza. They thought a "silver bullet" was a funny looking antique camper.

On a late, chilly afternoon as Becky and Grandpa walked the desert, he was still determined to tell her the right story. He had gone through the historical "truths" he knew and resorted to embellished personal stories. Becky demonstrated a precocious knack in finding contradictions, and failing that, still had her "silver bullet" refrain. She was so grim that Grandpa worried that she was getting old before her time. He spoke of movies and stars while she only showed interest in apocalyptic yarns.

Grandpa hated to see her so worried. In frustration, with an angry voice he said; "Becky, you should know that many times no one has had any good answer. And you know what. We're all still here and the old problems disappeared."

Becky laughed at his choice of words and retorted; "Maybe the old problems got zapped with a 'silver bullet.'"

Grandpa had mixed feelings toward her response. It was the first time she had laughed all day, but, unlike her usual self, there was the obvious inclusion of sarcasm in her repertoire. He displayed his annoyed side and sternly said; "You are fixated on that damn 'silver bullet,' and for no good reason. You have your own."

She corrected him, saying; "We have our own, and I don't even know where it is."

"My grandfather told me something a long time ago. When he was little everyone was panicked that somebody would start a war and use the atom bomb to decimate everything. This was a century ago for God's sake! Every day the sirens would go off and all the kids would go down to the grammar school basement and put their heads against the wall with one arm behind it, as if this was going to be any protection against a real bomb. After about twenty years with no bombs dropped the people forgot they were afraid of it. So what did they do next? They worried that the communists were infiltrating the government and would take over. So we entered a war with Viet Nam, after the French were bright enough to leave, so that we could stop the "commies" before they got to our shores. Guess what? We lost the war and they never invaded our shores. Then it was AIDS. Then it was the terrorists. Can't you see? Every generation has believed that the world would end in their lifetime. They all said that things couldn't possibly get any worse. And the bombs are rotting somewhere; the communists decided they wanted to be capitalists; AIDS is controllable with drugs; and the terrorists faded into the mist like the mad bombers of the 1940's. Franklin Delano Roosevelt said; 'We nothing to fear but fear itself.' Man was a hero and a genius."

Becky grinned, furrowed the brow over one eye and facetiously said; "He was a President or something like that, when there were still dinosaurs, right?"

Grandpa raised his hand and pretended that he was going to give Becky a slap. He said; "Ooooh you," and they ran laughing back to the house.

The Eli ministers had an unusually quiet meeting. They were all unnerved by the step-up in attacks on Elis, the swastikas on the doors, and to a substantially lesser extent the uninvestigated murder of Castor Williams, as his sudden departure was a blessing to the Committee, for he was an openly anti-Eli Eli. No one brought up the idea of war. It wasn't because Cronos or Marshall had changed their opinions; but because they were tired of playing the same note to a non-dancing audience and it was now obvious to them that the others had hardened in their dovetailed opinions and political campaigns. Zeus had already vocalized his open-mindedness, or so thought Cronos, perhaps in his wishful thinking which hung on a few amendable words. The President could tip the scales whenever he so chose, regardless of what anyone said at a meeting. The degree of violence in America was still considered minor by the sheltered Committee majority. There were the same numbers to be governed minus a very expendable one, and that one was not being governed anyway. They all shared one common thought. They all silently wished someone would take out his nuisance brother. They discussed who might have assassinated the radical Sunny leader in a perfunctory manner. Earth business interests? Earth covert military? An infiltrator? An obedient moralist Darkie? An Eli military rogue? His brother? Random unexplained Earth violence? A lover? His landlord?

Marshall proposed the idea of tracking down and killing Pollux. This was rejected by Zeus, who dourly opined; "The ******* has enough followers already. I have no intention of increasing his popularity by making him a martyr."

After having spent the customary hour, Zeus adjourned the meeting. He entertained a call for an investigation initiated by Prometheus and seconded by Brigitte. It would have shocked him if the "We Need More Information" contingent did not request a formal inquiry. Zeus said; "Feel free to pursue that," and closed with; "Let's hope for some good news."

The huge American team assigned to investigating the assassination of Preacher Alvin Blunt made much motion and noise, but didn't get any more results than the Eli ministers did in determining the killer of Castor Williams; and, in their case, they didn't have to expend much energy. In fairness, the anxious team didn't have anywhere to go after finding no evidence of an inside job. They had no descriptions. The eyewitness testimony of the bodyguards was all they had to go on. "In the cooling water the man was covered in a wetsuit to the head and carried what appeared to be a harpoon. The getaway car was an older cream or dirty white Toyota." Plates were not seen. Forensics determined that the bullets were common .22 shells fired from an unregistered rifle, probably constructed "at home." Very professional. Informants were pushed, but had nowhere to move. Boaters and fishermen saw nothing, not even fish. The neighboring rental houses were empty in off-season. After three days the investigators spun their wheels rather than sit on their *****, knowing that they were going to need a break; like someone with a big mouth or sudden riches.

While most of the black community did not like Preacher Al helping Elis, none wanted to see him dead. He had, over the years, shown himself to be a man of non-violence and his constituency thought he deserved the same courtesy. Some blacks organized demonstrations in Washington DC, and demanded that the federal government investigate Blunt's murder. They called the lack of progress in the New Jersey local investigation, "Either willful or incompetent." President Frank Stabile thought there was nothing to lose by assuaging them with the creation of a special four man task force to look into the matter.

The immediate result was a number of yelling matches and scuffles which required police intervention. Some used the term race riots. The only altercation of any substance started with taunts coming from a jealous white group, in DC to protest another cutback in farm subsidies. As in prior years, they were officially ignored, but this time, having heard news of the Special Commission's creation, they became angry and started chanting; "N****** get special treatment." They were answered with black middle fingers and taunts of; "Redneck welfare slobs." Pushing and shoving was soon curtailed by DC police.

Medium term results of the seemingly innocuous Presidential gesture were anger in the black community at "The idiot panel," which became its own issue. Blacks wanted the right to appoint the members, complaining that the group of four contained only one black, a TV celebrity with a substantially white audience. The long term effect was increased commotion and no results.

Frank hid in the Elliptical Office and put a hold on public announcements.

### Chapter 23

Becky had an extremely brief respite from the pitiful concerns of the day. The next afternoon, after school, she was compelled to sit in her room and watch TV news. On the encouraging side she found nothing major to add to the gloom that again pervaded her. And on the other hand there was nothing to diminish the accumulated misery. By anyone's reasonable standards it was a good, nothingish news day. However, Becky was neither anyone nor reasonable. She was a ten year old aspiring actress with a sense of conflict and necessary resolution, and didn't see the reported daily events as having any sense of a competently written story. There were too many omissions. The stasis following the thunderbolts of the storm was as logical as an acquiescence to the notion of Buddhist beliefs; an anathema to an American Jew or Christian. Something had to happen, and happen quickly.

It did. Becky heard a commotion in the hall, went out and saw medics storming into Grandpa's room. Chatter from the three commingled with that of Mom and Dad. In its incoherence it perfectly communicated disaster. She entered the room as Grandpa was being put on a stretcher. His face was ashen and he held one hand on his chest. She screamed; "Grandpa!"

He looked toward her and weakly held out his left hand. She clutched it, her eyes wide and her mouth open. He looked into her eyes and said; "Don't worry. I'll be back." She watched as they jostled the stretcher down the stairs and into the ambulance. As they sped away, Becky heard the revolting cry of their siren. Mom and Dad entered their car to follow. Becky ran to the car and desperately called to them; "What happened?"

Mom said; "He had a stroke."

Becky opened the back door, but Mom said; "No. No. You have to stay here and take care of the place."

Becky shut the door of the moving car and stood still in the driveway as the car faded into the distance. She remained there in the silence and for the first time felt infinitely scared and alone, the world's ludicrous troubles forgotten. She wasn't aware of the passage of time until the pall of dusk brought the late day clouds and she felt tiny drops and the chilling wind. Her instinct to remain warm compelled her to go inside.

The empty house was still toasty from the day's sun. She ignored the first floor and slowly climbed the stairs to the second. She entered Grandpa's disheveled room and was inundated with the ticking of his Victorian Gothic shelf clock. The resounding clamor methodically emanated from the piece which displayed gold pillars supporting the flat, undecorated top and was protected by two gold lions with nose rings on each side. The black paint with gilt designs, still at the center, was stripped from the top and bottom. This revealed the original red mahogany and the entire structure stood on gold leafed, winged animal feet. She jumped back when it grumbled; and then it chimed seven times.

She sat on the edge of the bed and saw a book. She wondered what Grandpa was thinking about when it happened. The cover leaf gone, she saw the title on the binding; "The Determination of Miracles." It was authored by Claude Chabrol and there was a marker inserted toward the end. She read from the top of page 312; "'Just as less than fully informed cynicism is most often more naïve than poised passion, dwelling on the humanly perceived inevitable is inherently more flawed than enlightened inexperience.'

Genevieve bristled, her eyes flashed, and she spit out; 'Rhetoric! Meaningless rhetoric!'

Jean sighed deeply. In a low tone he emphatically said; 'The trick is to be consciously unconscious, or unconsciously conscious, if you prefer. You can achieve that.'"

Becky closed the book and thought; "Grandpa must have been feeling extremely stressed. ............. And a lot of that is my fault. God, if you make him better I promise that even if I think the world is coming to an end, I won't say so. I'll talk about happy stuff instead. ........... And, oh yeah. I'll be nice to that little nerdy girl nobody likes."

She went to her room and turned on the TV, just so there was some sound and the feeling of company in the house. She put on "The Movie Channel," and watched the original version of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," and found it weirdly magnificent. She fell asleep around the time Kevin McCarthy learned that his was the only body in town that was not yet snatched, apparently finding something relaxing in the commonplace.

At 10PM she woke to another movie, wherein a Brit found that the aliens were dead of microbial infections and the sound of Mom and Dad's car coming down the driveway. She ran down the stairs, out the front door and saw Mom and Dad exit the car. She froze. Her eyes widened, ready to water the saguaros, and with breaking voice said; "Where's G-Grand-pa?"

Mom leaned over, put her arms around Becky's shoulders, held her close and said; "Don't worry. He'll be home tomorrow. They just want to watch him over night."

Becky thought; "Everyone is telling me not to worry. It seems obvious to me that means there is something worth worrying about. But, I won't say it. It just upsets everyone." She had trouble thinking of an appropriate cheerful response and came up with; "I'm so relieved. When I saw you two alone I thought ....... Well, you know what I thought. ....... But, now that's okay. ........ Kind of. ......... What are they going to watch?"

Dad said; "His heart, of course."

Becky blinked her eyes a few times and looked perplexed.

Dad continued; "Don't worry."

Becky thought; "There it is again. If I feel like worrying, I'm going to worry."

Dad went on with; "Grandpa's feeling well. He's getting cranky. That's always a sign of health. He told us to go home and quit fussing over him."

Becky thought; "Thank you, God. ............... I hope that nerd girl doesn't want to be real good friends."

Joshua walked the wide, midtown Manhattan streets in the early morning dawn. It was a half hour after the weatherman's stated sunrise, but the thick gray cloud configuration just sat there defiantly, obscuring the source of light. The accumulation of tiny, individually ugly and insignificant pellets was rigid, not moving one inch, secure in their huge numbers. Early birds were striding confidently, on their way to office desks, ostensibly where the worms waited.

He felt crankier than usual and wondered why his sun had to burn out. If the **** thing just did its simple job he would be back on Eli without a concern. He made no attempt to dodge the oncoming throngs and brushed by a few, making minimal, but noticeable contact. He wished one would say something surly to him, so he could smack them in the face. But, in Money City, no one had the time to interrupt their busy schedules. He managed one disapproving, silent head shake from a grizzled old man who never broke stride.

He decided to go back to his hotel and send e-mails to people he didn't know, saying that they were ********. They probably were, but didn't know it. The information could be useful. When he got to his floor he saw a white teenage boy on his knees by his door. He was so engrossed in tagging the door with another swastika after the hotel removed the first, he didn't hear Joshua's footsteps on the hall carpet.

Joshua waited until they were five feet apart to say; "Your artistic skills ****."

The startled kid tried to bolt, but Joshua grabbed one of his arms, then put the other forearm across his neck, and was behind the boy who was dwarfed by the 6'4" Eli. Joshua said; "Didn't your mommy teach you any manners?"

"I ain't got no mommy."

Joshua didn't expect that answer. It reminded him of his own life, and now he was the one a bit startled. He slightly loosened his grip and the kid again tried to run, forcing Joshua to again tighten his hold. The kid said; "Hey, man. You're hurting my neck."

"Call a cop, *******. ............... What does this **** mean?"

"It means you're a ******* Eli."

Joshua kicked the kids' legs out. He then straddled him on the floor. He slapped his face hard, and said; "You know what that symbol really means?"

The kid shrugged and said nothing.

"Come on. Tell me what that really means!" He slapped the kid again.

"I don't know. Some bad ass rock groups have it on their T-shirts."

"You're either lying to me or you're the dumbest **** I've met here."

"Thanks. Can I go now?"

Joshua pointed his "silver bullet" at the kid's face. The teenager had no idea that he was presented with any danger and smirked derisively at what he thought to be a lipstick container. Though he had a thousand reasons to, Joshua couldn't pull the trigger. He pocketed the weapon and answered; "No. ....... Why aren't you in school? ........ Or prison, or something?"

"I called in sick. I was on my way to the doctor right now."

Joshua stood up, letting the boy loose. In disgust he said; "Just get the **** out of here, man."

The teenager slowly walked away, looking back with a surly expression on his face. When he reached a distance of twenty feet, he turned and said; "Why don't YOU get the **** out of here? Me and my family were born here."

Joshua took one fake step toward the kid, who then ran down the hallway. He entered his room having forgotten about his e-mail plans, sat on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

The Esperanza late day sun was a mirror of its morning glory, un-impinged by any gray casters of doubt. The temperature slowly and consistently had risen all day. Becky didn't wait for the school bus and ran home as quickly as she could, perspiring through her black and white polka dot dress.

Unaware of and uninterested in the moist marks added to her dress top; she loped up the stairs and went right to Grandpa's room. He was sitting up in bed, ineffectively trying to render a desert scene on a computer painting program. She said; "Grandpa!" and went to his side. She looked at his computer, correctly saw what he was trying to do and said; "That's awful."

He grimaced, put the laptop to his side, and said; "You would think that after staring at it for an eternity, I'd know what it looked like. I'm going to have to pretend that my realistic attempt was actually surrealistic." He shook his head mock disparagingly, held out his arms and said; "C'mere you."

Becky threw her arms around his neck, kissed his cheek and said; "You're all right now?"

Grandpa clucked his tongue and answered; "We always tell each other the truth, right?"

Becky didn't respond and looked as if someone had punched her stomach.

Grandpa said; "Sorry, I made that sound too ominous, didn't I?"

Becky perked up and answered his prior question, saying; "Yes. ...... Well, except for that Wicked Witch of the West trapped in my closet stuff. But that was when I was little and I got this idea from that old Orson Welles radio broadcast about the Martians landing ........."

Grandpa cut her off saying; "You're babbling again."

Becky silently smiled.

Grandpa said; "I have no plans on dying, but I'm going to have to take it easy for a while. So, my big girl, you are now going to be primarily responsible for the 'silver bullet.'

Becky was not sure of what she was hearing. She thought; "If Grandpa is really going to be all right, why is the change necessary? He's going to slow down. Right. But, he wasn't exactly a speed demon before the stroke, either." She tentatively said; "Responsible?"

"Yes, responsible."

Becky frowned and said; "You hid it somewhere in the desert. No one has found it. So it's safe. I don't get it." Again she considered the possibility of Grandpa's health being worse than he had said.

"If the wrong things happen, someone may have to get to it quickly, and that's not me."

"All right, well, I suppose you have to show me where it is."

"It's not in the desert. I just wanted you to think that. It's in the kitchen drawer with the old computer parts."

"What?"

Grandpa chuckled and said; "Yeah. I decided to hide it in plain sight. That's where nobody thinks of looking."

"That's crazy."

"You didn't find it and neither did anyone else."

Becky got the point, but wasn't completely convinced of the idea's soundness. She said; "It won't take long for you to get there."

"Yes, it will. I'm not going to be going up and down the stairs for a little while and after that I'll be going very, very slowly."

"Why don't you tell Mom and Dad about it?"

Grandpa showed some annoyance when he said; "For God's sake, Becky. If I didn't know you better I would think that you were still a little girl. You already know about the 'silver bullet's existence. They don't. And I don't know what they'd do if they did. Something bad might happen."

Becky sighed deeply.

Grandpa said; "The doctors tell me that aggravation doesn't help my condition."

"All right. All right. I'm primarily responsible for the 'silver bullet.' ....... For a short while." She leaned over the bed and hugged him. When she let go she said; "But, you have to do something for me. You have to hang around here a long time."

"You've got a deal."

Becky left and immediately went to the kitchen and opened the old computer junk drawer. Lying there among the antiquated switches, relays, routers and transformers was the silver two inch canister. It showed some graying from age and dust; and as it looked so inconsequential; she momentarily wondered how it could have been the cause of so much commotion. She also wondered why it was still undisturbed in an area where so many people were near it. She attributed that to good fortune rather than Grandpa's idea of "hiding in plain sight." She picked it up, held it to her lips, blew off the dust and then put it in her dress pocket. She took it to her room, lay on her bed and tried to think of a better place to keep it.

### Chapter 24

For a few more days the United States was the beneficiary of a much desired quiet stasis, as the parties attendant to the recent upheavals coincided in retreating into their studies for further reflection upon their actions. Mercifully, this was the only place where action prevailed in the massive chess game, as pawns and kings alike pondered where they now stood in terms of attaining or their likelihood to obtain current and long term goals.

Cronos relished his re-acquired position of being the "commander" of the man who would be seen as an Eli hero, even though it was illusory. Though he no longer trusted Joshua in the least; that was subordinate to his desired appearance of success. He was uncertain of his "limited war" plan. He thought it important to his future to be seen as a "no nonsense Eli, but if war was not the most pragmatic option, he wanted to be seen as reasonable. While he thought his idea was excellent at the time, he was now considered it possible that he might have gotten the worst of both worlds. He tried to find some way to back out of his stated position, without denying it. It was a formidable task and he searched books for ideas.

Seth, Brigitte and Prometheus lounged at their homes, spending a morning half hour on the phone. They were being interviewed on an Eli sponsored radio program, hosted by Anne Ramsey. They casually spoke of "progress" they and their subordinates were making in the "We Need More Information" campaign. They showed mild amusement when they were joined by fourth guest, Completion scientist Hawk Stephens, who said that he had all the information. He proceeded to ask Brigitte for a date, during which he would show her his knowledge. It remains to be seen if she has been fully informed.

Marshall played a computer Civil War game with someone from Manassas, Virginia who used the name Rising South. He won rather handily as RS was intent on defending his ground, and the Eli strategist knew that one cannot win by only playing defense.

Zeus discovered the Earth internet pornography superiority. Time flew in a haze as he found films and photos of every possibility his mind conjured, including the newest category; Inter-galactic. Some Elis had been extremely enterprising.

Joshua enjoyed his morning realization that everything was fine. Despite all the other fleeting absurdities, his subterfuge had grown beyond his reasonable initial hopes. Though he was positive that Cronos no longer trusted him, he knew there was nothing he could do about it, without damaging himself. It really didn't matter as he could spend the rest of his life as an Eli hero and endorse consumer products. He wasn't truly in any danger from an Earthling as all he had to do in the case of being accosted was to use his "silver bullet." The contented feeling started to wane about two hours after he finished smoking the cigarette he had purchased from the talkative man on the streets of Manhattan.

Assassins, protestors, militant radicals of all persuasions, pranksters and Frank were serenely confident that they had not paid any price for their actions or lack thereof, and given the passage of time, with every undisturbed day, it was increasingly likely that they never would.

Earth's population, old and new, went about the routines of the lives they had lived prior to 7-4-58. They went to school, work, shopping centers, and in their free time laid around a lot. They watched news programs, which carried nothing worthy of remembering the next day, except the weather. A huge gray and white cloud covered the bulk of the United States. It didn't rumble, produce lightning or rain. It just sat there putting a lid on things. Some said it was responsible for the sudden and unexpected tranquility. Some said the people were merely tired. Becky spent hours and hours with Grandpa, assisting the bedridden man with all the things he could no longer easily do for himself. She could not think of any foolproof places to put it, so she carried the "silver bullet" with her at all times. Grandpa's right side was normal, but his left suffered from an improving, but continued and annoying paralysis. While he still verbally professed to "be fine in a short time," for the first time in Becky's memory he also, at times, spoke in far-away parlance. In a very tired voice, he told her; "Don't worry. We'll always be together," then asked her to leave as he needed sleep. It had the opposite effect on her, as she knew that they were not ALWAYS going to be together on this Earth, but his saying so made her think that he was drifting off into thoughts of an afterlife.

She would never tell him her morbid thought, as he would probably get upset with her being overly analytical, precise and interpretative over a stupid little sentence and he didn't need anything upsetting now. She went to her room, sat on the floor, and thought about death. It wasn't the first time, as when she was a "little" girl; she unnecessarily squashed some bugs in the desert, and then wondered where "they" were. She looked at the still carcasses and wished they would come back into them and run away. She felt awful, cried and vowed never to pointlessly kill another bug. She kept going back to the same desert spot every day, hoping to see that the bugs had up and gone. But, they remained in the same sandy spot, getting a bit more covered every day, until a howling northern wind passed through one night. The next morning she did her practiced bug inspection and they were gone. She convinced herself that the wind had brought them back to their bodies and that they had left. This ameliorated her bad feelings at the time. But, now she was a "big" girl and knew better. The bugs had become zombies.

She put the "silver bullet" on the floor and saw it as death incarnate. She hated the little monster with the audacity to brilliantly shine like a star. She kicked it across the room and thought that ever since this tiny fiend entered her life, so did death. It was innocuous appearing death.

Yet Grandpa had told her to be "responsible" for it, whatever that exactly means. Her thoughts of killing death by smashing it subsided, as whatever Grandpa had meant, she was certain that being responsible contradicted killing and smashing. Besides, there were others just like it. **** Elis. She got up, put it in her pocket and went back to Grandpa.

His nap was over and he was sitting up in bed eating a TV dinner with a very small amount of difficulty. When he pressed his fork into the chicken with his right hand, the plate slightly slid to the left, and it almost fell off his lap because of the limited ability of his left. Becky took the fork from him and he felt silly, but he allowed her to feed him like a baby. She catered to his every need, though he was still capable of doing most things for himself. After an hour she saw that it was time for his bath and offered to help him. She became convinced that he truly would be all right, when he used both hands to shoo her out of the room, saying; "Get the hell out of here."

She again went to her room, but this time had a laughing fit. When it subsided she felt full of energy and overviews, and decided to bury the "silver bullet" in the desert. It seemed obviously appropriate for it to rest with the cactus and the sand; other things incapable of movement. She put the little monster into a spineless pink box, which once contained the discarded books in which she never had any interest; received years ago when they had the audacity to masquerade as a birthday present. "Freedom," "CivilWarLand in bad decline," and "Tenth of December," among others with less ostentatious titles had rightfully gone the way of the horse and buggy, leaving the empty container, long ago suitable for burial.

Becky meandered through the brightly lit dryness, as she searched for a spot with something uniquely memorable, so that she could find it again if necessary. The sameness of the stoic cactus and sand was a revelation in the moment, as she had never before searched for anything distinctive in the barren land. She went on until she came to a place where the rosy blooming cholla intertwined with the much less dangerous prickly pear. She carefully brushed away the white sand with her bare hands and placed the box in the small gap. She covered it over with sand and made a mental note that the menace was interred where the hazardous cactus met the benign. She vigorously and cheerfully walked back home thinking her work was done.

When Becky was out of sight something emerged from behind the rock which hid it. Undetected by Becky, a tribute to decades of experience creeping between and under rocks, it was a woman dressed as a man. This was obvious from its lack of an Adam's apple, tiny hands and feet, wearing unwashed, baggy zip-up pants, a slept-in button down brown shirt, and crowned by a short, two-tone hair-do, gray and darker gray on each convoluted clump, first introduced by Jody Welch, in her lesbian acclaimed melodrama; "I've Got a Headache." It was a homeless drifter called Rancid who had roamed the Southwest for decades alternating between searches for God and searches for revenge on the men who ignored her. Despite having had a youthful passion for the opposite sex, Rancid was not blessed with the charming and attracting attributes of most girls, and consequently had difficulty drawing male attention. She initially found this a disheartening experience, but hoped it would change as boys matured. When they didn't mature to her satisfaction, she had her consciousness raised in her adulthood. This made her embarrassed by her prior behavior, and she had since come to be convinced that she was the "victim" of male abuse, though anyone else would call it benign neglect. Excepting her days of sought solar illumination, she has spent decades mad as hell at the boys/men who had no interest in her. Rancid's progression from adolescent horror to adult repulsion have induced the few men who have had the misfortune to have made her acquaintance, to refer to her as the "Penis-envying, steroid teratism (monster), PEST for short.

Having nothing to do, other than being a wart on the beauty of nature, she went to where Becky had been and clawed at the ground. Her coarse and calloused fingers soon unearthed the pink box, the pretty color much to her dismay. She ripped it apart and was more disappointed when she found the two inch, silver lipstick canister. In anger she tried to open it, intending to write something objectionable on an innocent cactus. But when she pressed the tiny button, she only succeeded in making it emit a ray which obliterated part of her face, including the entirety of her nose. While it was debatable to most whether or not this was an improvement, her appearance now most resembled Lon Chaney in the original "Phantom of the Opera," which in its time is said to have induced fainting in the audience. However in PEST's case, she was infused with as much happiness as she had experienced since youth; actually none, but she had no way of knowing; as she realized that the more of her face that was gone the better she looked. She planned subsequent "cosmetic" fine tuning.

While her situation was considered sad, rather than comical, to people new to her demise, the passage of time invariably led everyone to a revised conclusion. Despite sympathizing with Rancid having been born with the looks of a journeyman boxer, her lifelong attacks and harassment of the male population led people to conclude that; "Her circumstances are indeed unfortunate, however everyone else would be better off if she didn't exist."

PEST turned the "silver bullet" on the annoying giant saguaro with the large branch at its approximate mid-point, which she accused of following her around, and again pushed the tiny button. It disappeared. PEST had mixed feelings. While she was elated to have found the power that she desired, she was sad to have obliterated the cactus, as she was now without anything to accuse of fallacious pursuit. Her temporary schizoid mindset ended when she realized that there was almost an infinite supply of saguaros to harass.

Her mind focused on the magnificent power of the 'silver bullet,' and like Robby Allison before her, for the first time she clearly saw the purpose of her rootless life. She hated Elis merely because she was, at this point, in love with hate and they were a safe target because there was plenty of company in that feeling. She also hated men, who were a less safe target, but, nonetheless provided somewhat of a bull's eye, as they were seen as an enemy by a not insignificant number of elderly spinsters. She thought she would get the best of both worlds for the first time as she planned to kill Eli men. Her "genius" had been cited by a few low IQ meth freaks and her bravery was not to be questioned merely because there were no effective laws or penalties against killing Elis. Due to her numerous managed and petty brushes with the law, she had been advised of the latter by competent counsel and that fact should not besmirch the valor of her steroid induced bravado. Her contact with and understanding of reality was obvious from her implicit assumption that this weapon was the former never used property of a little girl, as she never gave a thought to the possibility that the "silver bullet" just might be an advanced technology brought to Earth by the Elis.

PEST, now potentially more than a nuisance, hiked to the railroad line and hopped a freight train to Phoenix. She sat in the straw-filled goat car, accompanied by seventeen pygmy and eight full sized specimens, which seemed to take a liking to either her or her perfume. Also in the car were three male hoboes who did their best to pretend not to notice her, probably indicative of some prior knowledge. She spent the trip glowering at them, just in case they looked her way .........or didn't. After arriving in the big city, she donned her long haired, blonde wig, ostensibly to appear normal and not draw attention. After taking a few steps toward town, she sharply looked back to see if the hoboes were watching her. They weren't, but a few of the goats seemed saddened, as if they had lost a companion.

Downtown Phoenix bustled with activity, which with the exception of Rancid, travelled on four wheels or more. Alone on the sidewalks she got un-nerved when she thought that she was being avoided because they knew her and what she was up to. She fondled her "silver bullet" and her mindset changed to that of a swaggering, gun-toting cowboy; Billy the Kid, albeit Billy the Kid with half a face, a long blonde wig, fifty-eight years of age and a two inch weapon.

She sauntered into the McDouglas hamburger emporium on Stetson and Skyway and ordered a shake. She took it to a booth occupied by two elderly men, sat down, made "horrible" faces at them, not generally in common practice outside of mental institutions and subsequent to the second grade. After thinking that she had intimidated them, she demanded to know; "Where are the Elis?"

The men flinched, as they thought they were being approached by an elderly and deformed reverse transvestite, wearing "Eau de Goate." Rancid was proud to think that her bullying demeanor invoked codger fear.

The men choked on their burgers as they attempted to wolf them down. Rancid slurped her shake, thought she diabolically grinned with her half face, and raised her voice in her best imitation of John Wayne, however she sounded like John after taking laughing gas. Her high pitched squeal repeated; "I said, where are the Elis?" She pointed her "silver bullet" at one.

The man not blocked in decided to forego the rest of his burger and got up to leave. His friend said; "Excuse me" to PEST and attempted to do the same. PEST did not budge.

The standing man slouched and said; "The Elis hang out at 'The Pantheon.' Everyone knows that."

"Where's 'The Pantheon?'"

The slouching man pointed north and said; "Two blocks down Skyway."

PEST stood and pointed a finger at the drooping man. She said; "You better be right or I'll be back."

The seated man slid out of the booth and said; "That's the last thing we want." The friends slouched out the door.

The concrete sunbaked street reflected the heat of the day's constant sun storm, causing PEST to break into a sweat as she trod the pitiless, scorching road. Misdirected lizards scurried back to the safety of the off-road dirt, putting a hold on their expansionary thoughts, for the moment content to settle in the shade of a palm tree. Storefronts exacerbated the heat, as their silver, chrome and glass imperfectly reflected the illuminating rays, but perfectly magnified the temperature.

Rancid felt uncomfortable on foot, jealous of those scooting by in air-conditioned cars. However, this made her all the more determined to prove her mettle in defiance of the cool auto occupants, too long removed from the elements to make it on foot. The tourist oriented retail establishments held authentic American Indian merchandise, assembled on the reservation from parts manufactured in Taiwan; designer Italian women's wear imported from Brooklyn; and Mexican "antique" furniture, with ill-fitting pieces made all the more charming by a contemporary, sloppy paint job in yellow or red. The severely rectangular, black shelf clock incorrectly had both hands on eleven. Uninterested in upgrading her wardrobe or household effects, Rancid focused on her "real" mission, not distracted by the bargains on sale.

She came to an establishment faux supported by faux Greek columns of paper Mache, protected from the elements by a layer of polyurethane and an overhanging awning. "THE PANTHEON" was ostentatiously emblazoned in gold above the entry. "Sunnies Only" appeared in smaller black letters on the door itself. Dark skinned revelers sitting at tables on the public street, shielded from the sun by the awning ate, laughed and drank, paying her no heed. This enraged Rancid, as did everything. She stopped near a table, put her hands on her hips and said; "**** Sunnies." She got the attention she sought and her mind flipped to the other angry side. The couple nearest her got up and went inside to get the manager or security.

Rancid followed them in. Her white skin advertised her trespass. Two security guards approached, stood in her path, and one said; "You've made a mistake," their burly male presence elevating her hatred past tolerance level.

She wryly said; "Think you're bad ass mother *******?"

One guard took her elbow and said; "Hey, hey. We're all nice people here and you'll have to leave."

Rancid used her free arm to retrieve the "silver bullet" from her pants pocket, fired twice, and the two guards were gone. She turned to the seated patrons, who were frozen in shock, yelled; "Revenge for all women!" and obliterated two seated men. A military patron stood and blew her away.

The place was oddly quiet, perhaps because of the quietness of the killings and the unreality of seeing Elis killed, a first for non-militaries. The military man walked to where Rancid was and picked up the "silver bullet."

### Chapter 25

The Sunny Eli investigators were astonished to find out that the deranged killer with a 'silver bullet" was not a Darkie Eli; but an Earthling female, a close call on the female part. She had spent her adult life drifting, methadrining, steroiding and drinking on the borderline of trouble. Apparently she had enough of a brain remaining to pull back just when things got serious. She had gotten her largest charges out of harassing old men in small rural towns, without the ***** to seek out her supposed abusers or the risk of a big city's gangstas. Phoenix was the most populated place she had dared to show herself, and that was only after she had the benefit of a weapon she mistakenly thought incomparable and managed to last less than an hour. Remorseful over the dead Elis, but dismissing Rancid as an antique bully Eli laughed out of existence a century prior, they were most concerned with where she might have gotten the "silver bullet." They were astounded when they discovered that the weapon was registered to Ares Jarrod. Could this pathetic, inexperienced loser have taken out one of Eli's most competent members of the military? And taken his gun? It seemed incredulous, but the information regarding the incident and Ares' weapon was communicated upstream until it reached the President and the Ministers. They informed no Earth authority as they had sadly learned that the killing of an Eli was not a crime or barely one on the planet of war. Of course the elimination of PEST was never disclosed as that risked bringing down the law on the Eli military man. The deed remained unknown to Earth authorities as no "loved ones" reported PEST as missing.

Cronos celebrated the news, though it didn't make full sense to him and piqued his curiosity. Previously he was certain that Joshua had killed Ares, and he thought that was still likely the case as he had possession of Ares' rocket. But, how did Ares' "silver bullet" wind up in the hands of an Earthly misfit? Why doesn't Joshua have it? Details, details, details. No answers, just more details. He decided that it really didn't matter anymore, as the weapon was back in the hands of Eli authorities and it was as strong an inference as one can ever get that the US government never had it and therefore didn't have the technology. He still thought that Joshua was involved in something untrustworthy, but whatever it was made no sense to him. The most important consideration was that now, with Elis being killed, this time without doubt by an Earthling and Earth's very, very likely defenselessness, it was time to wipe them out. This time he knew he would have support in Committee and looked forward to the scheduled meeting.

The news quickly spread through the Eli community. When it reached Joshua in Manhattan, he immediately thought of Becky and Grandpa, thinking it possible that they might have been obliterated, enabling Rancid to get the "silver bullet." His mind flashed through scenes of annihilation that he didn't want to see. His mood flip-flopped between sadness and anger, as he blamed himself and the Elis as the ones who brought death to a wonderful planet; an unverifiable, impersonal, easily administered and obscene death that the world had never previously known. It was wrong, but it was, and there was no turning back. What could he do? He took out his weapon and pointed it at himself, while he used his cell phone to dial the Hawley number.

Ring, ring, ring, ring. He thought; "Oh, please be there."

Ring, ring. "Hello."

It was Becky's voice, and he exclaimed; "Becky!"

"Yeah. Joshua?"

He pocketed the "silver bullet," and said; "Yeah. It's so good to hear your voice."

"Well, call more often and you'll hear it more."

"I don't want to cause you trouble, but I miss you."

"I miss you too. How is your plan going?"

Joshua lied and said; "Excellent, just a few more details to work on. Things will be all right if you guys can put up with Elis. How's Grandpa?"

"He's seen better days. He had a stroke."

"Oh, no."

"Yeah, he's doing okay though. He just can't get around like he used to. I gave him the 'silver bullet' the day I got it and now he made me responsible for it. Can you imagine? Ten years old with something like that."

"Nobody should have that responsibility at any age. But, somebody has to and I can't think of a better candidate."

"I changed his hiding place. Do you know that he used to keep it in a kitchen drawer? He had some crazy idea about hiding it in plain sight."

"Actually I do know that."

"Well, anyway I got it out of there and buried it in the desert."

Joshua inferred what had happened. He didn't want to upset Becky or Grandpa by saying what he knew, so he said; "I like it. Who could ever find it out there?"

"Only me, and I don't want to."

"You're a great girl and a big one. Hey, do you think I could talk to Grandpa a bit?"

"Sure, let me have him pick up in his room."

A few seconds elapsed, then Joshua heard; "Joshua."

"Hey, old man. I hear you've been getting everyone nervous."

"Ah, you know I tell them not to worry, but some people are just that way."

"Yeah, I know. It's because they care."

Grandpa was silent, feeling happy that was the case.

Joshua said; "You take it easy and let them baby you. They like it."

"Are you sure you're an Eli?"

"I'm only sure of one thing. There will be no war." In a silly voice he added; "It's Joshua Foucalt on the job, you know."

"Things are okay at your end?"

"Definitely. Your act with the UFO was superlative. Makes it easy."

"Good, good. Are you going to be around here any time soon?"

"I think so. You take good care of yourself and give Becky a big kiss for me."

"You got it."

"Bye."

The primary concern now a thing of the past, Joshua thought of the ramifications the Rancid event would have on Eli plans. He strongly suspected that the war logic would be drawn from it. He held out a faint hope that the "We Need More Information" contingent would seize on the miniscule possibility that the US did have and did duplicate the "silver bullet," and that Rancid had stolen the prototype from them. He knew it was a long shot, as in practice, it was extremely unlikely, and Zeus could over-rule everyone and dictate his wishes.

A growing number of Elis were extremely unhappy with their treatment on Earth, especially the most powerful Sunnies. Perhaps a nod to wishful thinking, rumors that the radical EDICT group was going to curtail picking around at the edges and initiate a full blown war on America, with a "silver bullet" or not, circulated among the population. It was a popular idea with the majority of Sunnies. More content with their lot than at any other time in their lifetimes, the Darkies were generally proponents of peace and "We Need More Information." Their wishes were as relevant to the powers that be as they were on Eli, despite or perhaps because of having made economic gains.

Marshall found it difficult to contain his enthusiasm and called for an emergency meeting that evening.

Zeus smiled at him at the outset and gave him the floor to state the reason everyone knew why there was an emergency.

Marshall read from the notes he had prepared and said; "I suppose we all know what happened in Phoenix yesterday. If anyone doesn't I'll recount the events." He scanned the room and found no one indicating a lack of knowledge. "From the very beginning of our unwelcomed migration to this un-evolved ape planet Elis have been unfairly subjected to attacks, harassment, terroristic threats, shootings, four possible killings and now four certain unprovoked murders." He shook his head in disgust. "We have worked long and hard to achieve peace. Our forefathers, God rest their brilliant souls ..........."

Zeus interrupted him saying; "Spare us the forefather ****, and get to the point. We all know what it is anyway."

Marshall actually showed a small grin as he cleared his throat and continued; "Prior to coming to Earth our Intelligence made us aware that Earth was a warlike planet, populated by warlike people. This has been proven to us in our short, beleaguered experience. Our original plan to exterminate all of them was only put on hold because of the possibility that the US government had our 'silver bullet' technology, thereby making war either an out and out losing proposition for Elis, or at the very least one in which we would absorb heavy tolls."

He paused for no good reason other than to prolong his basking in glory. "Ares' missing 'silver bullet' is back in our hands, indicating that the US never had it ........."

Seth interrupted to say; "You can't say that. The government could have had it and then somehow lost it to Rancid."

Marshall made as disgusted a face as he could muster and sharply said; "Get real! Elis are being killed at an increasing rate, and you're drawing at straws!"

Seth said; "If Rancid had it all along, why did she wait so long to use it?"

Marshall said; "I don't know. She was a nut. Who can fully explain what nuts do?"

Prometheus asked; "How is it possible that this nut got the weapon away from one of your top people?" He sneered.

Marshall again said; "I don't know," and added; "And I don't appreciate your derogatory inference. I suppose that it's possible that Ares' could have died and the nut could have found his body."

Uncomfortable grumbles emanated from the "We Need More Information" group.

Marshall again spoke, saying; "When this issue was previously discussed, the only 'fact' which held us back was that Ares' 'silver bullet,' was missing with the good possibility that it was with the US government. Now we know that it is not. I'm strongly recommending that we immediately enter into war with Earth, before they decimate our population, on the strong likelihood that we will easily prevail."

Brigitte sarcastically said; "I suppose that you are making that assessment based on your lengthy war experience."

Marshall glumly said; "I have said what I have to say."

Cronos was less than enthused with the progress of the debate and wanted to be on record, for posterity and current events, as being a supporter of the war. This was for three good reasons; it was his nature; he still strongly suspected that there was some Joshua involved trickery aimed at peace; and it didn't hurt to be pro-military when running for President. He said; "I realize that we are not 100% certain of the location of Ares' 'silver bullet' at all times since its arrival on the Death Planet. However, we are 100% certain of its location now, and that strongly suggests to me that the US government never had it. Do you really think Rancid had the ability to break through top US security?" His stern eyes perused the room to see the "WNMI" group looking at their reflections on the glossy table. He continued; "And please tell me. I want to be educated. With the exceptions of the theoretical world of mathematics and the reality of death, where is there any 100% certainty? ........ Please tell me. I'd really like to know. ......... Some wise men or poets previously said that we were sure that the sun would always rise again." He smirked as he nodded and again surveyed the room. "Ask them what wisdom or poetry they now have to bestow on us. ......... Tell me one certainty. ............. Just one thing. ....... I challenge you."

Zeus kind of interrupted to say; "I'm 100% certain that you no longer have the floor. ........ It's getting redundant and combative at this juncture. .......... **** well taken point, though." He nodded at Cronos. "Does anyone else have anything to add?" Hearing silence, he ruled; "We will immediately prepare for war. Marshall, that's your job." The WNMI contingent groaned and eyes bugged. Zeus looked at them sternly and said; "AND Seth. You will engage Intelligence, who will determine if there is a meaningful risk that the US has the 'silver bullet' technology. If there is such an issue the war is back on hold. Meeting adjourned."

To obtain a virtual certainty Intelligence Analysis, managers compared and contrasted, blindly compare sighted, doubled down with prejudice and performed other tests, so as not to bear more than a .0005% chance of being incorrect. When engaged in matters of the utmost importance, as they always were, but this time it was actually true, they did their utmost to appear to be rushing, though they actually took each step as painstakingly slowly as the laws of inertia would allow, without coming to an obvious halt. The tests took two weeks to perform, during which time the Earth had entertained fourteen significant storms, 17,586 murders, 1,760 changes in law and 111,486,321 changes of mind which obliterated the antecedent two week point of stasis. However, while that kind of "insignificant" change was known by all involved, the process served to cover Intelligence' ass, as they were statistically assured of being correct that the US did not possess "silver bullet" technology to the tune of 99.9995% as of the date commenced, bearing all the relevance of knowing two weeks' prior stock prices.

### Chapter 26

Eli war preparations started on the outskirts of Seattle, Washington; on Bainbridge Island, known for its sparse population, evergreen trees and privacy. While not considered remote, the area had successfully resisted development in the twenty-first century, endeavoring to maintain its "rural heritage." Most residents were members of a two income family, working in Seattle, requiring a long day and leaving scant time for nosing around. In a "wild" area one hundred feet from the Puget Sound, Marshall found a seemingly never disturbed tiny brick building, surrounded by a chain link fence with barbed wire on top of it. The "compound" was surrounded by overgrown Johnson grass, flora and fauna, indicating that no one had recently visited the site and also making it invisible to all but aerial viewing. Its size did not permit the entry of a full sized human or Eli; rather it made one think of a large doll house. The chain link fence had no entry way. Its purpose was undetermined; the most logical suspicion was that it once housed tiny aliens who had abandoned it.

It was perfect for the top secret Eli military operation. Marshall planned for his men to get small in order to decrease their possibility of being sighted, even before he discovered the site. Without an entry way, the Elis walked between the small openings for access. The President and the other Directors visited to "monitor" goings on, which substantially consisted of properly outfitting and arming the troops. The higher echelon worked with a publicly available internet search engine's program, which used a spy satellite purchased from the US government, to pinpoint arms locations. The plan was to take them all out in one surprise morning, along with the Pentagon and Washington, DC. And before Earth knew what had hit them; being in a leaderless state of confusion, to start picking off the general population; first in large cities and last in remote rural areas.

Joshua was informed by Seth, as part of his group's "WE NEED MORE INFORMATION" campaign that war preparations had begun and that he should go to Bainbridge Island to lend his expertise. Seth advised him that the "silver bullet" issued to Ares had been recovered and consequently Intelligence had concluded that the possibility of America having the weapon was infinitesimal; statistically insignificant, confirming Joshua's suspicions.

Joshua immediately knew what he had to do to keep his promise. He went to the war camp, stood at the fence and showed his Director issued pass. He explained that he needed a new controller as his was damaged. He got outfitted with a new one, got small and entered the facility.

He told Marshall Ordnance that there were some things of a confidential nature that he thought the military commander should know. The first opportunity he had to be alone with Marshall, he said; "Nothing personal," drew his "silver bullet" and obliterated him. He knew this would buy some time, as temporarily there would be no one to give orders and the others would assume that he would soon be back from somewhere.

Joshua left, returned to full size, and made a call to the Hawley residence. He wanted to say goodbye, but didn't want to risk upsetting Grandpa with the complications.

Grandpa answered saying; "If this isn't good news, hang up now."

"I always bring you good news."

"Yeah, sure. Joshua, where the **** are 'ya?"

"Someplace called Bainbridge Island. ...... Seattle! Just called to check on you. "

"I get a little better every day. Still haven't gone down the stairs though."

"They'll wait for you."

"Did I ever tell you about the time the power went out when I was in an elevator? I don't think so. I must have been about thirty years old at the time. I was in the Empire State Building, you know. There must have been ten or eleven other people with me. A few of them looked strange. You probably don't know what I mean by that, so I'll explain. One lady was wearing ................."

Joshua cut him off, saying; "You're babbling." He laughed and added; "I'm happy that you're doing well and hope you carry on for at least forty more years. I love your stories and don't want to cut you short, but I'm meeting President Stabile in two hours."

Grandpa cut back in and said; "Who's the story teller here?"

"I guess I learned from you. Can I get Becky for a little while?"

Joshua didn't want to tell Becky that she had any fault in the current situation. She got on the phone saying; "Joshua!"

"How's my favorite actress?"

"Oh, come on. Don't tease me."

"I'm not. Are you alone on the line?"

"Yes, why?"

"I want you to know something and I'm afraid if Grandpa overhears it will upset him. We can keep secrets and this will be another one."

"War?"

"No way. There were some complications, but it's all straightened out now. Those war hungry Elis re-assessed the situation and decided to take the risk because so many were getting killed and because it was so unlikely that Earth had the 'silver bullet.' I'm going to publicly give the 'silver bullet' to the American government. That will put an end to the calculations and avert war. Watch your TV. I'll be on it in two hours."

Becky said; "They'll kill you."

"They'll have to first find me. I know where to hide."

"Why don't you give it to them secretly?"

"Because time is of the essence. The war machine has been put in motion. Besides, I want them to know. No more riddles. No more garbage."

Becky asked; "What went wrong with your first plan? Whose fault was it?"

"No ones. It's the fault of hate and ignorance, amplified by mathematicians, logicians, game-playing self-servers and some other jerks I can't think of right now."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I hope so. Who can say for sure?"

She sobbed.

"Do something for me. ...... You just go become the greatest actress the world has ever known. I know you can. You can do anything. Then, get married and have lots of babies just like you."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." He hung up before his voice broke.

Being the big girl, bearing responsibility for the "silver bullet," she made her own choice and decided not to listen to Joshua. She wanted to retrieve her weapon and give that one to the US government before Joshua could get the opportunity to sign his own death warrant. She ran into the desert and found the spot where the cholla met the prickly pear. She dug, but nothing was there. She looked around in consternation and saw that there were now many spots where the dangerous cactus met the innocuous. She furiously dug between more and had no luck. She stared at the desert hoping something would jog a memory in her mind. The longer she looked the more places where cholla met prickly pear she saw. It was futile. Time had run out. She cried and vowed to respect Grandpa's wisdom in the future.

Fifteen minutes later Becky was sitting on her bed watching the TV, as Joshua had said. "Jeopardy" was interrupted as the runner up made a bid for the lead. The announcer said; "We interrupt your normal programming to bring you a special message from the President." She saw a stage filled with red, white and blue American flags. She was accustomed to this patriotic display, but this time each "Old Glory" sat next to other flags of dark gray and blood red. At the side was an old Chevy. Frank Stabile strode to the podium, with Joshua to his side and said; "My fellow Americans. My fellow Americans from many places of origin. I come before you today with good news. God knows we can use it. With me is Sunny Eli, Joshua Foucalt, Eli Senior Galactic Executive." He smiled and nodded to Joshua, who bowed slightly. Frank smiled and continued; "I don't know exactly what that is either, but it sure sounds important. ............ And, I'm sure it is. Please excuse my clumsiness. This press conference was just called two hours ago, and my speech writers didn't have enough time to make me sound smart. You may be curious about the flags between our own; they are Eli's flag; and they are appropriately displayed today as Joshua has graced us with one of the greatest gifts America has ever received; a 'silver bullet.'" He took one from his pocket and went on; "I know it doesn't look like much, but it is the most potent weapon ever on Earth. We have been running them off on our Warhollian Duplicating Machines and this is one I took." He pointed it at the Chevy, pushed the button and it disappeared. The audience made an indecipherable sound somewhere between "whoosh" and "mmnnn." "That was no trick. That car is gone forever, and so is anything else that gets zapped with a 'silver bullet.' This is a small one, but they can be made in any size, and do proportional damage. We greatly thank our Eli friend and all of the people from Eli. They have been having their difficulties in America, and it is a tribute to them that they have demonstrated their peaceful intentions, by not using these monsters against us. Believe me, it would have been quite a problem." He turned to Joshua and said; "All true Americans offer you the most sincere of thank yous. We will forever be in your debt." He turned back to the audience and added; "They will never be used against our neighbors, but will hopefully serve as a deterrent to anyone who considers aggression against us. As a showing of good faith I hereby grant the Elis full citizenship and equality under the law. I know you all will consider their good hearts and grant them peace. Peace for all residents of the US." He gave the two fingered peace sign and left the stage. Joshua demonstrated the effectiveness of his "silver bullet" by eradicating all the flags on stage. He then followed the President.

Cronos was watching the show and thought that he now knew Joshua's game, but not the rationale behind it. He thought; "He has become a hero to the Earthlings, but at the same time a traitor to his own people. Illogical." He sighed and thought that Joshua had temporarily gotten his way; until a better weapon was developed.

Aphrodite Jones, a buxom Sunny, darker than most, called Zeus on a special line accessible to only her. At least that's what he told her. When he answered in a bothered tone, the first thing she said was; "Did you see what our son just did?"

"Your son. He's nothing like me."

Aphrodite dismissively said; "What ******* ever. Did you see?"

"No. I've been gellin' with Frigg. What's the big deal?"

"Careful. The ***** will probably get pregnant. Our little bastard just gave the "silver bullet' technology to the US."

"No. You've got to be kidding me."

"He did it all right. Turn on your TV."

"****."

Aphrodite chastised; "You should really pay more attention to what is going on."

"What the **** do I care?"

"The Earthlings just became truly equal in power."

"So, no ******* war. We'll dominate them some other way."

"You self-assured ***********. You're supposed to be in charge of everything, and all hell is breaking loose. On your watch, Eli has become partners rather than masters."

"I didn't create the problems, and if the ******** are going to make a mess, they can clean it up themselves. I'm not spending my life doing it. I have no control over that ******* sun."

"The problem is our son. The result of your incompetence is that he had to become a martyr."

"He didn't have to. He has chosen to. And he gets that stupidity from your side of the family. Mine doesn't give a ****."

"Whatever. Your only son is dead meat."

"******* place. This wouldn't happen on Eli."

Aphrodite curtly said; "Keep living in the past," and hung up.

Zeus called Joshua. He didn't disclose the family history, but wanted to be certain that he knew he was a marked man. Joshua disdainfully answered; "Is this some kind of moronic trick? Of course I anticipated that." He used a moronic voice to sarcastically say; "Thank you so much." He hung up abruptly in fear that the call was being traced to place him.

Joshua had been offered US protection, which he refused. Since he had been on Earth, he had been doing things his own way, and he planned to continue his independence. Joshua got small, entered his (actually Ares') rocket and took off.

LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK. LIGHT. DARK.

When he landed in Acceptance, Sunny, Eli the sun was still shining. He first went to food stores and found a lifetime supply of canned goods. He walked around aimlessly and soon was charged by a hungry and scared Dalmatian puppy, about a year old, who must have been left behind. It appeared as if she was through the process of developing her spots. He led her to the food store and opened a can for her. As she ate ravenously, he rubbed her back and said; "I'm going to name you Daisy. A wild flower." He looked at her coat's mixture of black and white. Each color was as strong as it could be, and yet they didn't clash. They complemented each other, forming a beautiful pattern that mimicked a photo of the heavens, taken in black and white.

They walked a bit. His new friend's bouncing exuberance almost tripped him a few times. Joshua stopped at the border of "People's Park" and opened another can. He sat on the ground and caressed his canine companion as they shared the hash. His mind went to Earth, Becky and Grandpa. He looked to the sky and said; "It can be such a beautiful place. They're just going to have to learn to at least tolerate each other out there. It's either that or meet oblivion. That's all there is to it."

### END OF THIRD EPISODE

END
