Intervention: God's Other Children

by Rob Mclean

  With newfound retrospective wisdom, all the commentators agreed that given such an immense universe, there always had to have been life out there. Many were claiming that this discovery was just confirmation or vindication of their allegedly long-held beliefs. Encountering an alien intelligence was now being recognized by the astute commentators as having always been only a matter of when.

  Stern anchormen and women crossed to desperately earnest field reporters as they interviewed ‘experts’ and tried to cover the story from every conceivable angle. Interviews with fringe personalities and cult leaders followed. Many of these had emerged from their hideaways to claim prior knowledge of the alien’s arrival, with some even claiming to be in contact with them, albeit through a mental or spiritual method.

  Brave dissenters who clung to their belief that there was some logical explanation for the anomaly were interviewed. They groped for an alternative explanation, one that did not include alien involvement, but they were in the minority.

  There was coverage of the long queues at supermarkets, presided over by hyper-vigilant police, some carrying shotguns, some with snarly Alsatian dogs. John supposed it was to instil a sense of order and to minimize panic, but he had seen footage on other channels of police in downtown L.A. firing on looters.

  Other footage was of the long lines of cars on the freeways out of the cities. All across the U.S., people were trying to flee the cities by the thousands. Fights had erupted at gas stations where long lines snaked out onto the streets. Where they were all trying to go was anyone’s guess, but unlike John they had decided that being in a big city was not their best chance of survival. John glanced at his meagre pile of survival groceries and felt a pang of doubt, but he pushed it aside by reasoning that he had nowhere to go.

  Observatories around the world had quickly confirmed the original sighting, adding that whatever it was, it was currently out beyond the orbit of Pluto. They were careful not to commit themselves as to the likely source of the anomaly, as he learnt that there were more than fifty stars within sixteen light-years of Earth, but speculation was as prolific and diverse as the variety of talking heads. Despite only having a very pixelated image of a star-like object to work with, the news feeds were in a frenzy.

  It soon became apparent to John that like the twin towers of 9/11, the lunar landing and the shooting of JFK, this was one of those monumental events that had abruptly commanded almost total media saturation. The internet was zinging with it. No matter which news website he picked, or TV channel or radio station, there was always some coverage, even if it was only a footer scrolling across the bottom of the screen repeating the same things over again.

  Despite a lack of actual information, an amazing number of ‘experts’ and academics were being interviewed. It seemed that none of them had much to add but their own personal speculations.

  They all still called it an ‘anomaly,’ simply because they didn’t know much about it, except that it was steadily heading towards Earth. They might be able to guess at an arrival date in a day or so, but so far, no one was committing themselves.

  John was interrupted from the drama on-screen by the sound of the front door. He checked the time and chided himself as Jarred staggered in, laden with more groceries. John couldn’t believe he had spent the last three hours engrossed in the news and now had to rush to get ready for work.

  “Hey man, didn’t I tell you?” Jarred dumped his groceries next to the ones John had bought earlier that were still waiting to be put away. “Incredibly awesome or what?” He gave John a proud pose before rushing around to check what was on the television. “What’s the latest? Anything new?”

  “Not really,” John said, tossing the remote to Jarred, who sat himself in John’s still warm spot on the lounge.

  The President of the United States appeared, urging everyone to keep calm and not to stockpile. John felt certain that it would have exactly the opposite effect to what she intended. He was glad he had gotten his groceries when he did and didn’t have to queue up with everyone else now.

  The President was shown boarding Air Force One. Soon after the reporters started to interview each other and against a backdrop of long, congested lines of traffic leaving the cities, the emphasis started to shift towards reinforcing the President’s message and trying to keep the public calm.

  John watched for a few minutes longer while getting dressed. He checked that he had all the things he needed for work: his detachable ID card lanyard, a small but solid metal torch for searching handbags while doubling as an unconcealed weapon and a notepad for checking signatures.

  It soon became apparent however, that there was no imminent danger, and before much longer the reporters were beginning to repeat themselves.

  “Man, you’re not still going to work, are you?” Jarred gave his brother an incredulous look.

  “Sure, why not? It looks like the world isn’t going to end. At least not tonight anyway,’ John said, “and someone has to pay for those groceries.” He nodded towards their paltry cache of supplies.

  “Hope it doesn’t come down to having to living on this stuff,” Jarred inspected a can of beans. “I’d miss my junk food.”

  “Doesn’t look like it will,’ John gathered up his keys and phone. “Besides, what can we do anyway?” Living in a high-rise apartment in the middle of a metropolis of millions of other under-prepared people, with only a few bags of shopping to fall back on, John didn’t expect an argument from his brother.

  “Suppose you’re right,” he said with a shrug. “Sure hope everyone else feels the same way.”

  John thought back to the redneck in the supermarket and his shot-gun shells. He didn’t voice his doubts to Jarred. “Yeah, I reckon things might get a bit busy tonight,” John said as he headed out the door.

  “Have a fun night,” Jarred grinned to his brother as he left. “I might drop in later.”

  John nodded as he closed the door.

  “Could do with a drink or two myself,” Jarred said to no one but himself. “It’s been a big day.”

  Chapter 5

  As a security operative, John had worked his way up through a variety of L.A.’s nightclubs. He preferred to be called a ‘crowd controller,’ but for some of the crowds he had worked with, ‘herd’ was a better word for them. He had seen, through the effects of alcohol and drugs, the human animal from every social class laid bare of its social veneer. It hadn’t been pretty.

  John hated many aspects of his job. Having to wear a suit, albeit it with an elastic tie, was one of them. The nocturnal hours would be his biggest complaint, but the arrogant entitlement of the patrons would have to come a close second. He particularly hated the way the guys, dressed in their latest trendy clothes that cost more than his regular pay-packet, would posture and pose, trying to outdo each other in asserting themselves as the alpha male. They would smile and joke around, as if you were their best friend, to try to con their way in. But then, if they didn’t get what they wanted, in an instant, they would turn aggressive and violent.

  It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the physique to handle most of them. So far, none had managed to damage his good looks. It just reinforced his opinion that they were a childish and incredibly selfish bunch of thinly civilized animals.

  The ladies weren’t much better. He swore it was as if there was some sort of competition to pretend to be the sleaziest tart and out-flirt all the other girls in their group just to jump the queue and get past the doorman. Extra points if you got in for free. Had his Natalie been any different?

  They also could rapidly change their act if it didn’t get them admittance. Some of those vixens could out-swear a Marine drill sergeant and some even would take a swing at you. At least Nat had never done that.

  Still, his mother couldn’t work out why he hadn’t found himself another girlfriend yet.

  This current contract as security manager at one of the ‘nicer’ clubs was a relatively pleasant change. The cover charge ensured that the
clientele were wealthier and generally that meant better behaved- but it also meant that they felt more entitled. Given enough booze, even business suits could get feisty and try to back up their drunken demands with action. All those manners and niceties could vanish just as quickly as a regular guy, and you could be unexpectedly wearing some jerk’s fist.

  Given the alien anomaly news, John expected more than the usual trouble tonight. Normally this early in the night people were relatively sober and well behaved, but already there had been disputes and scuffles amongst the patrons as they lined up outside. With the usual booze and drugs added to a balmy summer Friday night and things usually got ugly. But now, with the added paranoia of an alien invasion, the background wail of sirens and the desperate queues of people rushing to stock up on provisions or leave junction city, things promised not to be mundane.

  John was greeted by the news that the nightclub manager had not shown up for work this evening, along with some of the service staff. Probably all heading north to Canada, but stuck on the Mojave Freeway along with half of L.A. It looked like he got to step up, at least for tonight.

  The other half of L.A. appeared to be lining up outside the nightclub. They were monitored from the control room perched high above the dance floor. It was lined on one side with windows that overlooked the action. Two of the other walls were lined with monitors. Normally they would be surveying the crowds below, but tonight, many of them were tuned to the ongoing ‘alien anomaly’ drama playing out on the different networks. John changed them all back to monitoring the crowds, except one. He figured if anything dramatic was going to happen with the alien thing, you didn’t need more than one talking head to tell you about it.

  There had been no new developments in the main midnight news, except that early estimates put the arrival of the ‘alien’ at about eighteen months from now. There were projected flight paths of approach that the alien might take. They were animated with a flashing dot representing the anomaly to make it simple for the audience to digest. The experts were quick to add that their calculations could vary depending on the exact path the alien took and if it got any gravity assists from any planets or moons on the way.

  They were almost unanimous in declaring it to be a ‘slow’ ship, in that it had travelled here at a speed approaching, but not exceeding, the speed of light. The light signal that we were now seeing was most probably because the ship had been turned around, and the engines were being fired for deceleration as it approached. If that were the case, it would have left its home star system, for whatever reason, hundreds if not thousands of years ago. Possibly they were seeking new worlds to colonize, or maybe they were refugees from a planetary-wide war on their home-world.

  Some reports suggested that the spectral analysis of the light did not support this theory, but that information hadn’t changed many public opinions.

  Another minority of experts postulated that it might be a faster-than-light ship that had come out of its ‘hyper-drive,’ reappearing in real time-space because of the distortional gravitational effects that our own star, the Sun, and its planets might have. These were generally dismissed, with the ‘slow’ experts stating most emphatically that the speed of light was an absolute that couldn’t be exceeded.

  The ‘slow’ proponents responded by proposing worm-holes being opened up across higher dimensions to bend space-time and link distant points in this universe. In which case, they speculated, it could easily be any kind of ship: a large ark or colony ship, a scout ship or possibly just an ‘unmanned’ probe.

  John, like many others, noticed that they didn’t say that it could easily be the first of many troop ships, filled with the alien soldiers in some sort of suspended animation.

  Overall, the experts agreed that it was a good thing that the alien was signalling its arrival. ‘Sort of like knocking at the door,’ one of them had said. John noted that universally it had been agreed upon across all the newscasts and that it was a good indication that the aliens did not have hostile intentions.

  John thought the news people were generally trying to keep everyone calm, playing down the fear factor, and letting people think that the alien was something that they could worry about maybe next year. He didn’t buy it. He doubted that any one who put a few moments’ thought into it would.

  As if to confirm his opinion, he saw that the crowds were still building fast. The queue of patrons out the front was swelling steadily, and although they seemed to be generally well behaved, he put it down to them being more in shock.

  The regulars were registered with the club’s system. A simple thumb or retina scan and they were straight in, but the extra un-registered people were holding things up. The door-staff were using metal detectors and selected body searches to thoroughly screen the partygoers. It didn’t help the mood of the people waiting to get in, but so far they appeared happy enough to wait. It seemed as though the arrival of the alien had prompted a lot of people to turn up and determinedly party like there was no tomorrow.

  They might be right, he thought.

  While John scanned the crowd out front, looking for troublemakers, he found a familiar face. He radioed to the front doorman.

  “Marcus, I want to talk to the two dorky geeks in the line; ‘Gravity Sucks’ T-shirt and his ginger friend with the glasses, about thirty from the door. Let them in. I’ll meet them in the front lounge.”

  “Right, boss,” said the massive steroid abuser. He strutted past the queue of hopeful girls teetering in short skirts and stilettos and pointed to the two geeks.

  “You and yer mate wif de glasses,” he jabbed a thick finger adorned with many heavy, gold rings at the geeks.

  “What? We haven’t done nuthin’. We just want to have a good time, honestly,” the chubby geek in the ‘Gravity Sucks’ T-shirt protested half-heartedly as if he didn’t really expect to be let in anyway.

  “Chill, man,” said the other quietly and gave the heavily tattooed doorman a big, cheesy grin. “It’s cool.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” said Marcus, bored with the whole thing already. He jerked his thumb towards the door. “You’re in.”

  The ‘Gravity Sucks’ geek looked totally astonished; then when it sunk in, he high-fived the other and sauntered past the waiting crowd.

  “See you on the inside, ladies,” they taunted.

  “In your dreams,” one of the fabrically challenged girls sneered. She then added, ‘Loser!’ to which her friends giggled hysterically.

  John made his way down to find the geeks. They were wedged at the front lounge bar, looking lost and bewildered. This was part of the original 1920’s art deco styled building and was separated from the musical maelstrom below by thick concrete walls and a short stairwell. Sporting photos and trophies lined the walls, dusty mementoes to the club’s distant history.

  “Hey, geek,” John said, as he moved closer to the bar. The music wasn’t overly loud and he didn’t have to yell to be heard, but the babble of nearby voices didn’t make conversation easy.

  “Hey, man,” Jarred said. “I still can’t get used to the way you make things happen around here. Freaks me out. Like, it defies the laws of physics, you know? I mean, those gorillas,” he nodded towards the massive frame of Marcus, “they should be roaming free in some Schwarzenegger movie, not tamed and doing what they’re told. Have they got brain implants or something?”

  “They’re real pussies once you get to know them.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “So, who’s your friend?” John asked as the chubby geek in the Gravity T-shirt ogled a passing trio of leggy blondes. Their stilettos clacked on the polished wooden floorboards as they passed on their way to the dance floor below, completely grabbing the fat geek’s attention so he was totally oblivious to their conversation.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jarred said, grabbing his friend by the shoulder and dragging his attention away from the passing women. “This is Blake.”

  John put out his hand. “John Hunter.”

 
“John’s my big brother,” Jarred said.

  “Oh.” Blake stared at John’s outstretched hand and realized that he was supposed to shake it. He had a pale, soft, plump, baby face with masses of unkempt, curly, dark hair. His handshake was limp and clammy.

  “Half-brother actually, not that you could tell,” John said, but the geek’s attention had been lost to another gaggle of gorgeous girls. John nudged him to refocus, hoping, at the same time to teach him some social skills. “Haven’t met you before, have I?”

  “Um, probably not.” He moved his head to keep the group of girls in view, but when they rounded a corner the distraction disappeared. “I just recognized Jarred from the college bar and he was further up the line, closer to the front, you know…”

  “You’re in the bio-sciences aren’t you?” Jarred asked. John could see that his brother was trying help the socially retarded geek’s lack of conversation skills.

  “Biochemistry, second degree,” Blake said without a trace of pride, as if he was reading out the weather. “You’re maths of some sort, right?”

  “Yeah, and exams are soon.” A guilty look crossed Jarred’s face. “Probably should be home now, studying.”

  “Nah, you guys need to blow off some steam sometime,” John said to his brother. Then he turned to Blake, “All geeks do, should be scheduled into the course.”

  The geeks nodded in agreement. John continued, “So Blake, why aren’t you hunkering down at home or heading out to the wilderness? Aren’t you worried about the alien thing?”

  A large screen behind John’s shoulder was playing a music video. Not loud enough to be intrusive, but the gyrating, near-naked women in the clip had derailed Blake’s train of thought.

  John waved his hand in front of the fat geek’s face. “So Blake, what brings you out tonight?”

  “Oh, you know,” Blake’s chubby cheeks flushed, “the ladies.”

  “You look like a smart guy,” John said. “You could probably do better than these.”