“Retreating tornado!” she said.
Sam caught on. “You mean it blew them away.”
“Yes. They have never before experienced such variety and intensity of emotions. They are reassured, and have approved the release of the codes.”
“They like me,” Brom said, surprised.
“They trust you. That is not the same.”
“But it will do.”
“It will do,” she agreed, and kissed him.
A brief note sounded from the machine. Aliena stepped back into it, then out again. “They appreciate your cooperation, which they realize was a gift to them. They have learned an enormous amount. They wish to return the favor. What do you want?”
“Oh, I don’t need anything. I’m just glad the released the codes, as you wanted.”
“Do not reject their offer. That would be offensive. Name something.”
Was there more here than he fathomed? Certainly he did not want to give offense, especially after getting them to release the codes. He remembered that Aliena had said that her people believed in fair exchanges. “Well, I’d sort of like to know more about them. I mean, they’re starfish, right? Underwater creatures. How did they come to travel between stars?”
“Get in. Ask.”
Brom got back into the machine. He didn’t even need to formulate the question; they were already answering.
He found himself in the body of a starfish. Not the kind he knew on Earth; the resemblance was superficial, consisting mostly of his shape, with five rays and a central body. He was in shallow sea water, feeding off the local lichen. Then something like a squid approached, thinking to consume him. It assumed that because it was a larger creature, it was the predator. It was mistaken. He put a ray on it, injected a pacifier fluid, held it down, and moved over it, enclosing it in a five limbed hug. He oriented his aperture on its head part and issued a thick paste that dissolved the skin and muscle and made a hole in the sac, while its tentacles writhed helplessly. Then he thinned the paste, and dissolved the creature’s brain without harming the surrounding tissue. He sucked in the slurry, feeding his body.
Then he opened his own central sac and squeezed out his own brain. It remained connected by trailing neural cords, but entered the empty hole of the squid’s chamber. The brain filled the space and oriented on the paste-covered neural cords of the squid. Nerves emerging from his brain located the equivalent nerves of the squid, and connected. In time he was able to control the body of the squid. Then he disconnected from his own body, which he left in a kind of sleep in a concealed crevice; it would survive for some time, but would not be active. He had a new body.
The Starfish were old hands at brain transplanting. Very old.
It took a while to become proficient in handling the squid’s body, as it had capacities that his original body lacked, such as the ability to gulp in and jet out water with force sufficient to propel him backward. This was velocity of a different magnitude. The squid’s feeding mechanism differed too. But he was adaptable, and in due course was a competent squid.
He encountered a shark. The original squid would have been prey to the shark, but there were two reasons he was not: he had the starfish smell, which was adequate warning to the shark. If the fish tried to bite him, it would receive a jet of anesthetic that would put it out of commission for a while, and this could be lethal, depending on the starfish’s hunger at the moment. But more important, the shark was no longer a shark, but another starfish. The shark had already made the mistake of attacking a starfish, and paid the price. Starfish did not prey on each other; they cooperated. They recognized each other by that same starfish smell, and behaved accordingly.
When there were no longer many new hosts to take over in the sea, he moved to the shore, in this condensed paleontological narrative, where a catlike predator sought to scoop him from the water for food. It was the cat’s last scoop. In due course it had the brain of a starfish. The conquest of land had commenced.
At one point a large land-bound bird sought to contest a hunting territory with the starfish. Thus commenced the conquest of the air, as flying birds were next. There was no longer sufficient challenge among planetary life forms. There was a species of ape that possessed a new potential: intelligence. Thus there came to be intelligent starfish in the forest. They learned to farm, growing plants to feed them more readily than hunting and gathering could. They constructed domiciles that protected them from the extremes of climate and made their lives far more comfortable. They observed the heavens, and concluded that they represented a new and novel challenge. It took some time, but finally they managed to build a vessel that could reach the planet’s moons. It was not feasible for starfish to venture into space themselves, so they developed machines to do it for them. They also developed the stasis field, which enabled them to put living tissue in orbit without damage.
The starfish were the planet’s top predator, but there was no longer any benefit in predation. Trade was more efficient.
One thing concerned them increasingly: was the life on this planet alone in the universe, or did other planets also sustain life? They built massive telescopes to study other stars and other worlds, and concluded that there was indeed other life. But was there other intelligent life? It became the obsessive question of the day. They surveyed far planets with increasing acuity, and found a few that had at least the potential to develop intelligent life. They formulated a program to contact those worlds. To make actual contact. To offer the trade of information. More important, to offer companionship.
Now at last contact had been made. The prospects were phenomenal. It was perhaps the most crucial contact in their history. It was transcendentally important that there be no snafu.
Brom came out of the memory survey, but not the machine. Now he knew, in severe capsule, how and why the starfish had come here. They wanted to be friends.
“We want it too,” he said, knowing that his thoughts rather than his words were being read. “But caution: there are those of our number who are, well, alienophobic. They will react against any such contact, unless it is very carefully presented. Which I think is why our governments are arranging to have the first envoy be a very pretty and talented young woman. We tend to judge by appearances more than reality. To know Aliena is to love her. The contact will work, if consummated carefully.”
Our sentiments exactly.
Brom stepped out of the machine. “Now I know them, as they know me. It’s a fair exchange.”
“The scientists will be pleased,” Aliena said.
“It’s the greatest story of the age,” Brom said. “But I gather no headlines at this time?”
“None,” she agreed. “The governments are slowly preparing the way for my Unveiling. Until then, there must be no public news. But there will be private projects, as the scientists assimilate the new information.”
They returned to Earth, and to the train, and commenced the ride back to the known realm.
Aliena’s pregnancy proceeded normally, and in due course she birthed the baby girl the Smythes named Maple. They were babysitters from the start, and guided Aliena in the proper care and feeding of a baby. They did not believe how alien Aliena was, but had long since gathered that she did need such instruction. Maple took to them, and to Aliena, which gratified her.
Aliena, competently instructed, became a truly outstanding singer. She traveled to religious gatherings and sang hymns with such clarity and beauty that her reputation quickly spread, and she was beloved by many diverse congregations. It was part of the program, to make her a truly sympathetic envoy, and it seemed to be working.
Apart from that, they seemed like a very normal, dull family.
She suffered a brief illness from a bug she picked up on one of the singing tours. Medication took it out in a few days and she was fine. Brom thought nothing of it at the time.
Then they got news of a foul-up in a distant facility. “They are working on the stasis generator,” Sam said. “Par
t of the technology released by the starfish after they met you, Brom. But there’s a snag. It’s not working properly, and they can’t figure out why. It’s too advanced for us to understand directly; we have to go by the starfish assembly manual. They have a private deadline of a week. Then they will need to return to the space station to get instruction, which is a bit embarrassing.”
“This happens,” Aliena said. “Part of the code got nulled, maybe by mishandling. I can fix it.”
“Are you a scientist?” Martha asked, surprised.
“No. But I know how to talk to machines. We use them constantly, back on Starfish.” She used their colloquial name for their home planet without concern.
“This is Earth equipment, working on Starfish science,” Sam said. “Not the same thing.”
“The problem is in the code, so that it no longer responds to your machinery,” she said. “That is what I can fix. It is routine.”
“Are you sure of this?” Sam asked. “I am not questioning your experience or competence, just getting it straight. We would much prefer to avoid bothering the starfish machines. It’s a matter of foolish misplaced pride.”
“Could you repair a Model T Ford with an ignition wire loose?”
“Oh, sure. Old engines are a private hobby.”
“I can fix this.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “The plant is in Australia, theoretically making air conditioning units. It’s a long trip.”
“I can’t connect that wire from a distance. I must be there.”
“The holiday crowd is thick,” Martha said. “We’d have to pull some pretty obvious strings to get commercial passage for four on such short notice. That could compromise secrecy. I don’t recommend it.”
“We’ll have to hitch a ride,” Sam said. “Call Potus.”
“That was my thought,” she agreed, and punched a number.
“Potus?” Aliena asked.
“A friend with connections,” Sam said. “You’ll like him.”
Martha looked up. “We need to get to a major airport by midnight.”
“I will take Maple to the grandparents,” Aliena said. “She will enjoy staying there; they pamper her.”
They hastily collected a few necessities and piled into the limo. They dropped one year old Maple off with the Smythes, who were glad to have her on any basis. Then it was on to the closest city with a sufficient airport.
Brom sat beside Aliena and read a novel, not paying much attention. He had become inured to the arrangements available when Aliena was involved.
They saw the lighted aircraft descending as they reached the airport. The thing was huge. Martha was on the phone, verifying their clearance, and there was no challenge. They drove right onto the runway beside the plane.
Brom looked up from his book and stared. “That’s Air Force One!”
“Potus travels in style,” Sam said.
Now Brom focused and got it. “POTUS—President Of The United States. He’s your friend?”
“Actually he wants to meet Aliena. He’s glad to do her a favor.”
So it seemed. They walked across to the airplane and ascended the portable stairway leading to its entrance. No metal detectors, no papers, no fuss of any kind. They were ushered to a comfortable chamber and seated. They fastened their seat belts, and the plane taxied forward, accelerated, and took off.
“If only flying was always as easy as this!” Brom said.
“It is with Aliena,” Sam said.
The plain achieved cruising altitude and leveled off. Brom resumed his book, knowing it would be a long flight. Then a tall handsome man in informal clothing entered the room. Sam rose to meet him, and the two shook hands. “We miss you, Sam,” the man said. He glanced at Martha, who stood politely quiet. “You too, Wallflower.”
It was the president himself.
“This is Brom Hudson, Aliena’s husband,” Sam said.
The president stepped forward to shake his hand. “I have admired your handiwork with the cartoons, Brom.”
He knew of that? But of course they would have briefed him. Brom remand almost tongue-tied. “Th—thanks, Mr pres--”
“Potus will do. I’m just a friend.”
“P-Potus,” Brom agreed.
“You saved her during the snafu,” Potus continued warmly. “When all was otherwise lost. Not only that, you helped her to flourish. We owe you.”
The president was actually talking to him! “Uh--”
“More on that in a moment. We haven’t complete the introductions.”
“And this is Aliena,” Sam said.
Potus turned to face her. She stepped up to him and hugged him. “Thank you for the ride, Mister P.”
“Martha lent you her perfume!” Potus said. “She must like you. Come sit down, stellar envoy; I am thrilled to meet you at last.”
The president recognized Martha’s perfume?
They sat facing each other. Aliena seemed a little uneasy. “I did not mean to inconvenience you, Potus.”
“Oh, go ahead, cross your legs and get comfortable. I’m not going to make a move on you.”
“Thank you.” She crossed her legs, becoming more comfortable. Brom knew she knew exactly what kind of view she was providing the president, who pretended not to notice. It was the tacit conspiracy of man and woman.
“You have been very much on my mind,” Potus said. “You represent the leading news event of all time, perhaps. We want to do this right. We are looking toward a coming out about nine months hence. I will introduce you to the public, and you will smile and be humble. I’m sure you know the route.”
“I do. I must appear as human as feasible, for the Unveiling.”
“Exactly. We will tell them of Starfish Planet, but you yourself must seem to give that the lie. No one thinks ill of a pretty girl. Perhaps you can sing a song. Maybe that first one you sang in Church, ‘Amazing Grace.’ Even our most bigoted radicals will have trouble hating you then. We’ll get a suitable background ensemble for you, maybe the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.”
Brom, amazed, realized that the president was serious.
“That would be nice,” Aliena agreed.
“Thereafter you will tour the world, with similar presentations in Paris, where you will sing in French; Beijing, where you will sing in Chinese, and so on. You can do that.”
“I can do that,” she agreed.
“It is a completely international effort, as you may have noticed from the facilities in China. Other countries are contributing too. We want the whole world to know you and love you.”
“I want that too.”
“You will be the Celebrity of the Century. Do you have any problem with that?”
“No. It is my purpose to represent my people to the human world. But please, it would be nice if I could have my child along, and her grandparents. It would be comforting for me, and a nice excursion for them.”
“And will make you even more clearly human,” Potus agreed. “It shall be done.”
“Thank you.”
“But you know there will be some objections. If Jesus Christ himself came to Earth today, there would be those ready to crucify him again. We will do our best to persuade them to accept you, but meanwhile there will be extremely heavy security. Your days of running in the park almost alone will be over.”
“I regret that.”
“With luck we’ll garner a ninety percent approval rating, and trade relations between our two planets will prosper. We do stand to gain enormously by this contact.”
“I hope so.”
“You are very agreeable. I like that.”
Aliena laughed. “You are a politician, almost as alien to the normal person as I am.”
“Curses! She’s on to me,” Potus said. “Will your husband object if I kiss you?”
“Not enough.” She stood as he did. They came together and he kissed her on the forehead.
“You’re perfect, Aliena,” he said. “I will let you be, for now.”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. It was clear that they had impressed each other.
Then Potus returned to Brom as Aliena rejoined Martha. “I want to clarify exactly what you did,” he said.
“I helped a woman in need.”
“That, too. Are you familiar with the basketball and ape experiment?”
“I don’t think I have seen apes playing basketball, unless you are being facetious. I’m not much of a fan.”
“They set it up as a challenge: count how many times the white team passed the ball back and forth. It was a crowded scene, with players constantly weaving from one side to the other and through the center; it required real focus to get the count right. I saw it; I admit I did not do well, missing about a third of them.”
“That’s understandable,” Brom said, wondering what the point was.
“At the end of the sequence came a question: did you see the ape? I was baffled; I had seen nothing like that. Then they played it over, and this time a man in an ape costume walked onstage and waved to the viewer during the basketball action. I had never seen it.”
“Because your focus was too narrow!” Brom said.
“Exactly. I had concentrated so exclusively on the basketball action that I had completely tuned out the ape. I was amazed. About half of all viewers miss it, so I was average. It’s not actually that the eye does not see it, but that the brain tunes it out as irrelevant and it never enters consciousness. Well, later it occurred to a doctor to wonder whether professionals could make a similar error. So he set up a series of slides, asking doctors to examine them closely for signs of cancer, I believe it was. He superimposed pictures of the ape on the pictures—and more than eighty percent of the doctors missed it.” Potus smiled. “If there had really been an ape in there, that would have accounted for the patient’s illness better than cancer would. So the question is, how much malpractice is occurring because perfectly sincere and competent doctors miss the obvious, being too focused on the detail?”
“Too many, I fear. That’s scary.”
“Yes it is. Here is the relevance: when we set up the Trillion Dollar Alien Contact Project, we focused so much on specifics of education and appearance that we overlooked the obvious. We forgot that she needed meaningful personal interaction. Call it love, if you will. That is what you provided, Brom, and why you saved a project that might otherwise have foundered despite the best intention of the best minds on the planet, regardless of the snafu. You were in effect the generalist who saw the ape, or the elephant in the room, that the experts tuned out. You not only sustained her, you provided what she really needed. That is why we shall be forever grateful to you.”
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