Sheri Tepper - The Fresco

by The Fresco(Lit)

  Then Indira rose to reply.

  "We have been most pleased to join with you in this festive meal, enabling our two peoples to know one another a little better. We know you are recording this meeting, and we intended it so, in order that you may have a record to show your people of the reason for our coming here."

  General Wallace leaned forward. General McVane frowned. Those who were drinking coffee put down their coffee cups.

  "You have in recent time stepped upon your moon and begun the building of a space station. We have noticed this. You have in recent time sent small mechanicals to your planets, to learn about them, and you have built listening devices to detect intelligent life on other worlds. We applaud this, and we also applaud your efforts, so diligently though ineffectually carried out, to live peaceably among yourselves and, as we have learned this evening, to improve your perception of morality.

  "You have in recent time sent a mechanical device beyond your own system out into the universe. Pistach people have found it, and in response they have sent us, athyci, you would say ethical representatives. Part of our task is to reach out to newly noticed races and assist them in meeting the prerequisites of our galactic principles of coexistence. We, the several races in our Confederation, call these principles Tassifoduma, what you would call Neighborliness. We have read much of your literature. One of your poets has said that good fences make good neighbors, and this is often true. When a neighbor throws empty cans over his fence, it may mean he is not a good neighbor, or it may mean the fence is not high enough. When small mechanicals are sent outward over the fence, it could be a sign of either. It is then we must do our work quickly before some larger garbage follows to attract the attention of others whom you are not prepared to meet.

  "Our Confederation includes intelligent races, some of them predatory, though all agree to respect other members of the Confederation. Since the predators among us could do you great damage, it is to both our advantage if we can get you into the Confederation and subject to Confederation law as quickly as possible.

  "So we have come to you as we have come to many worlds where we have learned the best ways to do our work. This is how we intend to proceed:

  "Though our actions will not be limited to this country, we will begin our association with this country, as it has a quality other countries call cultural imperialism, which, we have found, means a tasty culture that other peoples readily enjoy, an infective culture, if you will, from which ideas and usages spread quickly. We find your language to be an inclusive one, your religions, for the most part, mutually tolerant, your races working consciously to remove bigotry. These are good signs. Nations that try to limit religion or racial configuration or the language spoken by their people are impossible to work with for they are more concerned with form than reality. We have selected our intermediary with great care. She meets our needs, and she will continue in that role."

  Benita heard this with a shock that went all the way to her feet. Continue?

  "Well," muttered her subconscious. "Did you think they paid you a hundred thou for spending a few days in Washington?"

  Indira went on, "For the foreseeable future, this is the last time we will meet in person with anyone other than our intermediary. We will tell her what is required, and she will transmit this to your government. We learned tonight she has found a living place which is appropriate for us to communicate with her and her with you, without fuss. We request that this place be made ready for her as quickly as possible.

  "We request that you do not use our intermediary's personal name when speaking of her to your media. Speak only of the intermediary. We ask this because we are athyci and the first rule of an athyco is to harm the least possible. Change always involves some trauma and displacement, but it should always be the least possible. It is not ethical to cause or allow destruction of the tranquil life of an innocent person, this is part of Tassifoduma. Currently there are many such small matters that need adjustment.

  "Do you have any questions?"

  No one said anything until General McVane blurted in a choked voice, "What gives you the right to come here and tell us what to do?"

  The two Indian woman swiveled toward him, fixing him with four eyes that, it seemed to Benita, were actually far more numerous than that. "We have the ethical duty, imposed upon us by our ancestors, to help other peoples achieve Neighborliness. Only if that proves impossible or unwelcome will we go away, though by that time, of course, other Confederation races may have learned you are here. We cannot go away, however, until we have made the attempt. Also, we must work not merely with leaders but also with the people, for we came from a whole people, our people, to the whole people of this world."

  "How do we know you can do what you say you can?" McVane demanded, half shouting.

  "General McVane!" said the SOS, warningly.

  "He may ask the question," said Lara in a strange, humming tone. "It is always permitted to ask questions, even so rudely as he has done. Since you have been so discourteous as to doubt our word, you will have your answer by tomorrow, General McVane. We will leave you now. We are aware this meeting is being recorded by various devices, and it is our will that these devices shall on this one occasion be allowed to function, though in future we will prevent any such invasion of our privacy."

  Indira bowed to the table, Lara rose and joined her at the head of the table where they bade farewell to the First Lady and the SOS and then, just as General Wallace was getting to his feet, they disappeared.

  A recording made of the entire evening caught much of the conversation and the disappearance of the aliens, at which point the tape showed the other diners sitting stunned, most of them with their mouths open. General McVane ran for the door and began shouting at someone. Mr. Riley spoke to the FL. Men from outside came in. Men from inside went out. When Benita pulled herself together, she saw that the SOS had moved into Indira's chair and was leaning across the table toward her.

  "Were you expecting that de facto appointment as ambassador-in-chief?" she asked in a slightly irritated voice.

  Benita shook her head, no, muttering, "I didn't even know they expected me to continue doing anything!"

  The First Lady spoke to the SOS. "I was watching her face and the announcement took her by surprise as much as it did us." She took a deep breath and patted Benita's arm, whispering, "You were also surprised when they disappeared?"

  Benita gulped. "They didn't disappear when I saw them before. They got in their ship and flew away."

  "They disappeared when they met with the president," said the SOS, in a less abrasive tone. She and the FL nodded sympathetically. "Why did they choose you?"

  Benita was surprised to find the question made her angry. Why shouldn't they have chosen her! "Everyone has asked that. Congressman Alvarez. The general. Even the president asked me that. I suppose they wanted an ordinary person, with ordinary concerns and ordinary problems. I'm a thus-far underpaid minority working mother with an alcoholic husband. They couldn't have picked anyone much more ordinary than that."

  "And two children in college as the result of your hard work," sniffed the SOS, giving her an admonitory look.

  "There is that," she said, suddenly amused. "You've been checking up on me?"

  "Of course the FBI has been investigating you. They even got some hair from your hairbrush back in Albuquerque so they could match it to your blood, just to be sure you're the real you."

  "You went through our house? Bert must have loved that."

  "Your husband has been in jail since early last Sunday morning. We made sure he would learn nothing about the search."

  "Bert's in jail? Again?"

  "It seems your husband was in no condition to drive at the time he had an accident."

  "Oh, Lord," Benita said, ducking her head. How to be terminally embarrassed before the eyes of the world in one easy lesson!

  The FL patted her arm, saying seriously, "Are you worried about him? Are you terribly concerned at n
ot being there?"

  Benita gritted her teeth. "At one time I would have said I was concerned. I've learned there's nothing I can do for him, so my concern is wasted."

  The FL nodded. "There are all kinds of addictions, and we can't help the addicted if they don't want to be helped, Ms. Alvarez. We need to save our concern for things that need doing."

  "Please call me Benita," she said. "Or just Bennie."

  "Actually," murmured the SOS, "it would be better if we called you the intermediary, as the aliens requested. Everyone here is supposed to be trustworthy, but there's always the unlikely event that one of us is a spy."

  Benita flushed. "Call me anything you like. I'm finished being Mrs. Bert Shipton, though. And you're right, I am upset about a lot of things."

  "Well, don't be upset about the bureau going through your house," said the SOS, soothingly. "It was a very quiet investigation just so we could be sure you were who and what you said you were. Think about it. Aliens arrive and are announced by someone we don't know. If we had to bet our lives on it, and those of your family, which we may be doing, wouldn't we be remiss not to check?"

  She considered it. "I suppose. Seeing how they can take any shape they like."

  "Did you hear what our other alien guest talked about during dinner?"

  "Small talk," Benita murmured. "The general's very interested in environmental issues. He'd recently attended a world conference on global warming. They talked about that. And since he's a rancher, he's interested in restoration of grasslands and riverbanks, the whole ecological bit."

  "Interesting," said the FL. "Did you overhear Indira asking about Afghanistan and the treatment of women there? In the Pistach culture, she said, someone would intervene to stop men behaving that way, and why hadn't we done so."

  "I don't think they understand yet that we have a lot of separate cultures," said Benita. "Either that, or they're just confirming that fact. Their people are evidently more... uniform than we are."

  "We told her Afghanistan wasn't the only place that enslaves women, and we tried to explain about national sovereignty, that short of going to war, we have no right to meddle in foreign countries."

  The SOS remarked, "She knew quite a bit about the things she was interested in. She wasn't asking out of real ignorance."

  "I don't think they're allowed to," Benita said. "As they've pointed out to me, they're ethical beings. It wouldn't be ethical to pronounce on some subject without knowing a great deal about it."

  "Oh, wouldn't that put an end to congressional debate," grated the SOS. She frowned. "Forget I said that. Now where's this place you've picked to live?"

  Benita told them about the bookstore job, and the loft above it. The SOS demanded a full description, produced a little notebook and had Benita draw a sketchy floor plan. "Since the envoys have requested it, why don't we see if we can speed things up for you?"

  "Simon, he's the owner, said he'd do it right away."

  "Right away could mean next week or next month or whenever he can get a contractor. I spoke with the Attorney General earlier today. Chad Riley will be our liaison with Justice, and he can probably arrange to get this done in a day or two, complete with a good cover story for your boss. The aliens want you moved quickly, so let's try to hurry things up."

  "It seems an imposition..."

  "Are you going to refuse to work for the ET's?" the FL asked.

  Benita shook her head uncertainly. "I don't know. I don't even know if they'd let me refuse."

  "Well, then. Pretend it's part of the job. No personal obligation."

  "Very well, if you like." She took a deep breath. "And since you have people in Albuquerque who are already familiar with my house and you're set on being helpful, could they pick up a few little items for me? My personal papers and some things that belonged to my mother? And my dog? I left him in a kennel there. And, could you fix it so I could send a letter to my former bosses, quitting my job and sort of... misleading them about where I am?"

  The SOS looked amused. "Why not? Simplifying your life is what we have in mind. Give me a list."

  The SOS handed Benita a blank page, and she wrote down the half dozen items she had already decided to recover. Her documents and tax returns were all in one place, a shoebox in her closet. She also wrote down Sasquatch's name and description and the place he'd been left.

  The FL said, "Go ahead and write your letter to your former bosses. Address it, no return, then call Chad Riley at the White House. He'll have an office there for the time being, and he can take care of it."

  The three women rose. General McVane came back into the room, very red in the face, stalking angrily toward Benita. "Had you planned that little disappearing act..."

  The SOS laid her hand protectively on Benita's shoulder. "She did not, General McVane, and we'd all be grateful for a more moderate tone. I attended the Cabinet meeting today, just as you did, and it was made clear that the intermediary is simply a woman who was selected by the aliens for their own purposes. She had no part in that selection, she has done her part well and faithfully, and she deserves generous recognition of that fact."

  McVane flushed. "Sorry, ma'am. It's just... frustrating!"

  Benita heard something more than mere frustration in his voice. "You were trying to find their ship, weren't you? You had people all set up to follow them when they left."

  McVane cursed at her, heard himself, and turned even brighter red.

  The SOS looked at Benita in amazement, then turned on McVane with an expression of outrage. "I thought the Cabinet agreed we wouldn't try anything like that."

  "No such order from the commander-in-chief," he snarled.

  "What did you call that meeting?" snapped the SOS. "A chat room? We all understood what the parameters were! Top secret and absolutely no interference! Whom have you involved?"

  He spoke through his teeth. "No one who knows anything! My men were asked only to follow everyone who left here!"

  "I suppose it was inevitable," said the FL, glaring at him angrily. "Did you use this woman's name, General?"

  "No. I swear. I didn't."

  "But your friends followed you here. And they're waiting to follow everyone back so they'll know who all the participants are. Have you identified her to them?"

  McVane flushed again. "Ma'am, I don't know her name. They didn't use her name at the meeting, they haven't used her name tonight! And even I don't have a photograph."

  The SOS said, "But if you'd had one, you'd have passed it around! The president will be very interested in that, General McVane."

  The FL turned toward Benita, drawing her away from the confrontation. "That surprised me. How did you catch on?"

  Benita shook her head. "I don't know. Something about the way he spoke, or looked. So frustrated. He would have been surprised, but why would he have been frustrated?"

  "You're very perceptive." The FL gave her a long, level look. "Hardly in keeping with what we've learned about you, quite frankly. And that little speech during dinner! I don't know about the envoys, but I was impressed."

  "Actually, I was quoting my mother's father. He was a history professor in Mexico. He specialized in pre-Colombian history, so he knew a lot about bloody gods. Mami, that is, my mother, used to quote him a lot."

  "Impressive, nonetheless. Well, we'll make sure McVane's sneaks don't follow you. Why do people always have to play games!"

  She left Benita at the table while she spoke to Chad Riley, who was hovering by the door, then returned. "Let's all go in my car. The driver will bring it around. We'll go out through the kitchen."

  And so they did, with two Secret Service men in the front seat and two cars full of them fore and aft, not to the hotel but to the White House, which, perhaps unsurprisingly, had back stairs. A little later, Chad Riley borrowed one of the kitchen people's private cars to take Benita to her hotel. She hid in the backseat, under a throw, while Chad drove around and around telling her stories of presidents past until he was sure they
weren't being followed. From the hotel staff entrance, he escorted her upstairs to her room via a freight elevator. At the door he stopped, fished in his pocket and handed her a cell phone.

  "What?" she asked, confused.

  "The ladies asked me to arrange it so you could call your children without their finding out where you are. I phoned the bureau and had them set it up so calls you make from it will be diverted through half a dozen places around the country, places we'll change every day or so, so your call can't be traced back to you. Considering what McVane was up to, they thought this would be a wise precaution. You can use it anytime now, without worrying about it."