by Don Cook
“He would have loved to have met you guys, too.”
“Your mom and Dad” said Selena, Giselle’s younger sister. “Are they…?”
Khraa/Astra bowed her head as she said, “They’re with the Lord now.” She quickly looked at her watch and said, “Gotta go to Minneapolis! Thanks again, guys!”
“God be with you, Ms. Astra!” said adoring 10-year-old Adele, who could have passed for Aleeta easily, as Khraa/Astra got in the RV and closed the door.
“Bye, guys!” Khraa/Astra said to her teenage fans as she waved at them through the driver’s seat window and honked her horn briefly in rapid repetition, and the teenagers waved goodbye to the woman they saw as their favorite reporter and heroine.
When traveling on any roadway of any type on any planet in the Universe, one can tell which cities and civilizations have “older” sensibilities and senses of greatness, and which ones have sensibilities and greatness of a psycho-culturally younger kind.
America, with its plethora of multi-lane superhighways that span the nation, is of the latter cultural soul set. While older great Earthly cities like London, England are known as cities that are wonderful to walk through, America’s dizzying network of roadways (both “superhighways” and masses of similar thoroughfares within its cities) reflect the personal vehicular transit garishness common among younger realms — especially with their garish promotional “billboards” that line the sides of the concrete-and-asphalt transit ribbons that both link and run through America’s metropolises north and south of the infamous American Civil War border, the Mason-Dixon Line. So dizzying and maddening is this maze of freeways, avenues, highways and bi-ways that even the relatively level-headed Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius would have snapped into a Caligula/Nero-like madness at the mere sight of America’s roadway network.
Once I had arrived in Minneapolis, what I saw chillingly mesmerized me! I have been on many worlds and have seen many types of urban streetscapes. But this —?! Most planets in the Known Universe would class such ominous mountains of concrete, glass, and steel urban structural monstrosities like those of Earth’s major cities as psycho-cultural health hazards! Kannatika, Amkeria, Tarsony, Qualliqa, Gomerica and other Known Universal realms have strict psycho-cultural health laws in regard to urban development, especially for giant balloon-maglev perpetual lift domed cloud-cities.
Obviously, I temporarily got lost in the Minneapolitan road-maze. The GPS driver guidance system in Downey’s RV was as malfunctional as my wake-clock was back on Rubiaar IV and therefore useless. However, during a classic North American “traffic jam” in Minneapolis, I simply used my telepathy to locate the Bella Villa apartment complex apartment and Astra’s building, chose the best and safest route to the complex, arrived there and entered the building where Astra lived.
The humans on Earth have utterly defiled their homeworld with this ecological and spiritual assault on its biosphere! How anyone could live on such a world as Earth was, at first, far beyond me. In my opinion, only Bangkarq V is worse...
Dr. Khraa-Veh ven-Bonhoeffer
Admiral, Platinum-Class, AMKEXPRA (Ret’d)
My Cosmos-Spanning Memoirs
APARTMENT 1214, BELLA VILLA APARTMENT COMPLEX
(“ASTRA DOWNEY’S” HOME)
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA
12:29 PM CENTRAL TIME
“There is much to be said for a mid-day nap” Khraa/Astra, ever the social scientist, commented to herself as she yawned while resting on Astra’s bed from her trip.
“British artiste Noel Coward was right about his fellow Englanders in his song ‘Mad Dogs and Englishmen’” Khraa/Astra commented further as her comcorder recorded her sociological commentary. “The British are culturally twisted for ignoring the value of a good midday rest. And since the U-S-of-A was founded by Britishers, they obviously got that fault from Mommy Country-Dearest. Noel Coward certainly was no farmer. His ‘Mad Dogs’ song proves he wasn’t into making hay while the sun shone. End recording.”
The comcorder auto-switched off, while Khraa/Astra yawned and closed her eyes for a power-nap before a daily working dinner where the late Astra Downey kept her proverbial ear to the ground for news stories.
“How wasteful urban land usage is on Earth… particularly in North America…” Khraa/Astra yawned, as she began her power-nap.
My first day after I arrived in Minneapolis began “innocently” enough (and I am using relative terminology here), with my getting “home” (Astra Downey’s rented apartment), followed by an enjoyable second-meal [i.e., lunch/dinner] at the Urban Gopher Restaurant (a classy Minneapolis dining establishment), one of Astra’s favorite higher-end media-haunts. There, I enjoyed a delectable serving of spaghetti (a heated Italian-Terran dish consisting of grain-strands known as “pasta” and minced bovite-type meat [i.e., ground beef] bathed in a spice-enhanced sauce made from edible red vegefruit known as “tomatoes.”) From what I learned of Terran economics and average food-pricing from the Internet, the meal was pricey yet still reasonably affordable for many North Americans. However, as I have learned, even a so-called fast food meal was beyond the means of most Terrans, the bulk of them living in what Earthlings call “the Third World.” The word “surviving” would be a far better word — and even then, many Third World Terrans live in abject poverty and starve to death for lack of the basics.
Still, for my means, the meal was as good and tasty as it was pricey, and that, despite the classy nature of the eatery, my serving staff were great to me, a young woman wearing common-class denims [blue jeans], runners, and a white “hoodie” (an Earthly hooded long-sleeved heavy-shirt.) Sadly, like it was often the case for Astra, this was a day where I couldn’t get even so much as a nano-mass [one billionth of an American ounce] of anything newsworthy. Yet the trip was still worthy of the meal.
The dining pleasure, however, ended a few minutes after I left the eatery, as the situation quickly deteriorated into trouble with one of urbanized Earth’s more terrible elements. Isokk always said when my mental powers came in handy, a little telepathy goes a long way. But my mental powers do not work with all intelligent beings, such as certain substance-addicted people who often start their attacks by accosting an unsuspecting soul with a seemingly friendly question such as —
Dr. Khraa-Veh ven-Bonhoeffer
Admiral, Platinum-Class, AMKEXPRA (Ret’d)
My Cosmos-Spanning Memoirs
S 11th STREET, MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA
3:29 PM CENTRAL TIME
“Psst! Hey, lady!” a rag-clad sun-burnt Caucasian male street bum in his late twenties rudely whispered to Khraa/Astra, as he held out a marijuana joint. “Got a light?”
“No, sorry,” Khraa/Astra said, “I don’t smoke, and I’m not into reefers.”
The drug-addicted bum said, “Well, that’s just too bad —!”
The ambidextrous bum quickly grabbed Khraa/Astra with his strong left hand, whipped out a switchblade with his right hand, and held the knife to her back.
Nearby, James Ledlie, a 21-year-old California dark blond helmet-headed male college student, was taking a selfie. He saw through the corner of his eye what was going on one block away, and quickly switched his smartphone to video mode. Aiming his phone’s camera at Khraa/Astra and the bum, he recorded the events on video.
Meanwhile, the bum snarled at Khraa/Astra, “I’ve got a switchblade at your back. Know what that is, bitch?”
Khraa/Astra nodded yes, trying to buy precious time as she tried to use telepathic self-defense, but found that the bum was impervious to telepathic suggestion.
“You love guys?” he asked, with evil lacing his every word.
Khraa/Astra nodded yes again.
“I mean,” the bum snarled demonically, “do you love guys. Or are you an Ellen-wannabe who goes for girls? Huh?!”
Khraa/Astra struggled, which caused Astra Downey’s Canadian Social Insurance (SIN) card (the Canadian equivalent to a Social Security card) to fall out from her hoo
die pouch-pocket. The bum saw the card and, assuming that all Canadians were sexually loose, was darkly intrigued.
“So, you’re Canadian, eh?!” the bum snarled, and laughed with vile glee. “Well, it looks like I’m gonna have a hot time in the old town today! Or are you just like that one Ontario lady premier? I may be a street-dude, but I do have Internet.”
Khraa/Astra was terrified. As she struggled, the bum tightened his left arm’s grip on her, as he grew ever more dangerously lewd. Relying on her Kannatikan Armed Reservist Forces military training, she came up with a good instant self-defense plan.
“If you’re gonna cry rape…” the bum said. “Well, frankly, my dear, I don’t give a hoopin’ funk! ‘Cause if you make one false —!”
Khraa/Astra stomped hard on the bum’s right foot, which caused him to yell, drop the switchblade, and release Khraa/Astra, who ran away from the bum like the wind.
The bum chased Khraa/Astra for half a block, with Ledlie running behind them, continuing to record the action as he picked up Astra’s SIN card. Ledlie, realizing the distance between him and the running pair was equal, decided to head them off at the proverbial pass by running in the opposite direction to intercept them around a nearby corner.
Meanwhile, around the corner, Mike was talking shop with Minneapolis Detective Tuesday Demi Noone and her partner Detective Mack Sharpe, as they were inadvertently walked in the direction in which Ledlie would intercept them.
“I see your problem” Mike said, discussing Minneapolis’ drug problems with the local detectives. “I can safely say the Bureau’s got legions of Agents who sympathize with you locals.”
“It’s the courts that are the big problem, Mike” the African-American female Joe Friday-like Noone said, just as Ledlie, hearing a bit of the conversation, ran toward the three officers.
“Not to mention the media” the willfully bald Caucasian Sharpe added.
“I agree” Noone said. “If the media says something often enough, and for long enough, people will think it’s right, even if it’s drop-dead wrong.”
“It makes me think of those old K-Tel commercials I saw on TV when I was a kid” Mike said. “They used to advertise their stuff day and night on station after station, both on radio and TV in every market so that a person couldn’t help but buy their gadgets or records —”
Ledlie intercepted and almost collided with the three law-people.
“What’s your hurry, son?” Mike asked.
Ledlie said, winded from running, “Some street bum’s chasing a woman around the corner! I got it on video up until he started chasing her!”
“That corner?” Mike said, pointing to the corner near where the bum tried to have his way with Khraa/Astra.
“Yeah! That one!”
“Don’t worry, son,” Mike said. “I’m with the FBI. These two are local detectives.”
“Thank god!”
Ledlie said, as he pointed to the oncoming fleeing Khraa/Astra and the chasing bum. “And there they are!”
Mike, Noone and Sharpe ran towards the running pair.
“Stop! Police!” Noone shouted, as the bum inadvertently ran into the local detectives, who promptly pinned the bum onto the sidewalk. Noone said to the bum, with police-toughness, “Spread ‘em!”
The bum, seeing he had no choice, spread his limbs outward as Noone cuffed him while she told him in no uncertain terms, “You’re under arrest for assault and attempted rape. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you at no cost. During any questioning, you may decide at any time to exercise these rights, not answer any questions or make any statements. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”
“Sí señorita!” the bum said, with a contemptuously sexist sneer.
Noone was instantly disgusted with the bum’s attitude, and repeated angrily, “I said, do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?!”
“Yes!” the bum said, as two uniformed male Minneapolis Police officers arrived on the scene to escort the bum away. “But I’m clammin’ up until I get a lawyer!”
“Even if you get a kickass public defender,” Noone said, “you’re going down, buddy, because we’ve got the whole thing on video!” Noone turned to the uniformed officers and said angrily, “Take him away.”
“You heard the lady,” the senior uniformed officer said to the bum. “Let’s go.”
The uniformed officers took the bum away to an awaiting police car.
Mike turned to Khraa/Astra… and the two both subconsciously fell in love with each other at first sight. There was no logical explanation for such instant love.
To Mike, seeing Khraa/Astra through the eyes of love at first sight was like the myth of the groundhog that did not see his shadow on February 2, and that for Mike, a lovers’ springtime had arrived.
And to Khraa/Astra, too, it was the same heralding of a new romantic spring.
And in addition, as my husband Dr. Elheem and I had stated earlier, if love at first sight occurs between two opposite-sex humanoids from differing planetary civilizations that have never made contact before, then both beings are indeed quite human. Science and history have conclusively shown time after time that two beings who are not of the same species could never be sexually attracted to one another...
Dr. Khraa-Veh ven-Elheem
Joint Panel-Symposium on First Contact Relations
Palotechium Institute, United Star-systems of Amkeria
27-06-1926 N.U.E.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked, after he and Khraa/Astra collected themselves.
“Yes” Khraa/Astra said, stunned by love at first sight, but still alright. “Thanks. This guy, he was chasing me, see, and he asked me for a light. Then he grabbed me, asked me if I was straight or gay, then my SIN card — Omigod! I left it back —!”
“This yours?” Ledlie said, holding up Astra’s SIN card.
“Thanks!” Khraa/Astra said gratefully, as Ledlie hand it back to her. “Thanks a bazillion! Uh, what’s your name?”
“Ledlie. James Ledlie. I’ve got lots of friends from Canada, and when I saw that bum try to have his way with you, I started to record it on video. I saw your card slip out of your hoodie, and followed you to return it. And like I said, I got it all on video.”
“Thanks!” Mike said to Ledlie, before he asked Noone, “Mind if I stick around?”
“Be my guest.”
“So, officer,” Ledlie asked, “what’s your name?”
“Mike Bonhoeffer. Like I said, I’m with the FBI. These two are friends of mine, plainclothes local detectives Noone and Sharpe.”
“Cool!” said Ledlie, who was not easily enamored with police except for when the police did their jobs properly. “I suppose you want my video.”
“Yes, Mr. Ledlie” Noone said. “We’ll need it for evidence.”
“You can have it. Now, who do I turn my phone over to?”
“We’ll take it, Mr. Ledlie” Noone said, as Ledlie handed his cellphone over to Noone. “You can have your phone back when we’ve downloaded the video you took as evidence.”
“Thanks” Noone said to Ledlie.
Mike, Noone, Sharpe and Ledlie each recognized Khraa/Astra from The Bull-Free Truth with Astra Downey podcasts.
Mike asked Khraa/Astra, “I may be making like a total klutz, but aren’t you Astra Downey, as in, The Bull-Free Truth with Astra Downey?”
“None other” Khraa/Astra said, as Mike, Noone, Sharpe and Ledlie, big fans of Astra Downey as a journalist, quickly became star-struck. She told her fans, “Here’s my business card.”
Khraa/Astra handed Mike, Noone, Sharpe and Ledlie each one of Astra’s business cards.
“Here’s one of ours” Noone said, as she gave Khraa/Astra her calling card.
; “And here’s mine, just in case” Mike said, as he gave Khraa/Astra one of his business cards.
“Thanks for saving my life, all of you” Khraa/Astra said.
“We’re just doing our job, Ms. Downey” Noone said in nonchalant gratitude.
She turned to Mike and asked, “May I call you Mike?”
“If I can call you Astra,” Mike said, “why not?”
“Deal!” Khraa/Astra said. “Will you need to question me, Mike?”
“We’re the ones to talk to” Noone said.
Khraa/Astra asked, “But it’s okay if Mike stays?”
“Well…” Noone said, “Got any immediate plans, Mike?”
“Not right now... sure. I’ll stay.”
“Okay. First, Ms. Downey —”
“Please” Khraa/Astra said. “Call me Astra. All of you.”
“Alright, Astra,” Noone asked, “are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Ask me anything.”
“Okay” Noone said. “Could you tell us exactly what happened?”
MINNEAPOLIS POLICE DEPARTMENT, 350 S 5TH ST #130
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA
7:59 PM CENTRAL TIME
“Now, we’ll go over it again!” Detective Amy Jo Callahan snarled at the seated bum, angered by the suspect’s bravado-infested attitude, as the feisty white redhead female detective and smooth yet tough African-American Detective Peter Reed interrogated him in a grimly bland police interrogation room.
“What’s your name?”
“Justin Bieber!” the bum said, in sneering defiance.
“Cut the smart-talk!” Reed told the bum. “Now, who are you? For real!”
The bum, in an even worse smart-alecky mood, sneered, “Lee Harvey Oswald!”
Callahan pounded her fist on the desk, and shouted, “WE SAID CUT THE WISECRACKS! We had a good look at the video that young man took of you chasing Ms. Downey. And don’t you tell me you’re Justin Timberlake, because you’re way too ugly. Or Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues, because you’re not British and you’re way too young. Or Justin Long, because of… Whatever! And I know you’re way too American to be Justin Trudeau, SO COUGH UP YOUR REAL NAME!”