The Book of Ralph

by Christopher Steinsvold

  I spied Lieutenant Barber out the window. He was headed toward the front door of the barracks. It was haphazard, but it was the only thing to do. We had to take the chance.

  “Ralph, listen closely. This is what we do. You lay down by the top of the stairs and stay scared. Here,” I said, standing where I wanted Ralph to be—opposite the upper landing of the stairs. “As soon as you see Lieutenant Barber, just scream as loud as you possibly can.”

  “As loud as I can?”

  “Yes. I’ll be at the far end of the room, over there,” I said, pointing. “I’ll cover my ears with whatever I can. This way, you knock us both out, but I’ll recover quicker; then we tie him up and get out of here. Okay?”

  “But you won’t kill him . . . right?”

  BANG.

  A single gunshot rang outside. Neither of us wanted to talk anymore. I only imagined the lieutenant shot Alice in cold blood to destroy a loose end. Ralph was whimpering and crackling, barely holding back his scream. He could talk about violence in the abstract, but when it came for him, he shook so much he shimmered.

  He then lay down at the top of the stairs as I’d told him.

  I heard the creak of the front door downstairs.

  With Ralph in position, I went to the sofa and realized there were no removable cushions. I vainly tugged at the fabric, hoping to tear it, but could not. Looking around I saw nothing else to protect myself, so I took off my shirt and wrapped it around my head, over my ears. I crept to the far end of the room and clamped my palms over the sides of my skull.

  “Dr. West?” the lieutenant shouted from below. I heard him too well—I knew my ear protection was not enough. I didn’t dare respond. Ralph was ready to burst.

  I expected the lieutenant to creep in slow. But he walked in quick and headed up the stairs at the same pace. The last thing I remember was the shine of the lieutenant’s bald head and the windows blowing out from the inside.

  XXXIII

  WALDO

  When I started thinking again, I was dreaming. I dreamt I was lying in the back of my own vehicle while Alice Higginbotham drove. I could hear Ralph’s voice somewhere behind me. Lieutenant Barber was following us in his vehicle. We drove to a large white house with a huge lawn, and the dream ended with me getting a very sloppy and wet kiss.

  I would learn this dream was a feeble awareness of actual events. There was much I would learn that next day—including strangely earthly things about Ralph.

  Most importantly, I would learn Ralph, Alice Higginbotham, and Lieutenant Barber were all alive. I’d learn that Francis illegally ordered the lieutenant to kill everyone in the barracks, but Lieutenant Barber did not obey. Samantha had intervened.

  Samantha was a tactical genius. She was in Colorado at NORAD at the time, but when the first sky banner appeared, she guessed how Francis would react. She ordered Lieutenant Barber to protect everyone in the barracks, no matter what Francis said.

  Right before the sky banner manifested, Lieutenant Barber was scanning the grounds with night-vision binoculars and saw Alice’s silhouette skulking. He knew she shouldn’t be there and approached the barracks to engage the intruder.

  The disturbing gunshot I heard was Lieutenant Barber shooting and killing a raccoon that came too close to the unconscious Alice Higginbotham. I don’t know if Ralph ever forgave him.

  For reasons I did not anticipate, Lieutenant Barber recovered from Ralph’s scream long before I did. Samantha had experienced Ralph’s screaming defense firsthand in the Oval Office, which led her to issue industrial strength earplugs to Lieutenant Barber. He was ordered to wear them upon approaching the barracks.

  Saving me the trouble, Ralph introduced himself to Lieutenant Barber, and later to Alice when she revived. Ralph explained how he was responsible for the lunar advertisement and the enormous can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup. I’m sure Ralph charmed them just as he had charmed Francis, Samantha, and me—he told them the same things he told us in the Oval Office, but only those things—he never spoke to them about the Kardashians’ hidden motives, nothing about humility or the second and third laws, none of that. As far as Lieutenant Barber and Alice were concerned, the Kardashians were the religious zealots they appeared to be.

  I would learn all of this, and more, that next day.

  But I hadn’t learned any of this yet.

  I awoke atop a king-sized waterbed, wearing pants and no shirt. On the large white wall across from me hung one of Andy Warhol’s prints—a can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle. The room was so large I guessed the whole house was abnormally large as well. There were no furnishings except for the bed, and undecorated except for the art.

  An adult golden retriever was licking my face, and there were scratching noises outside the bedroom door. Tucked into the dog’s collar was a note, and I recognized Ralph’s childish handwriting immediately: Don’t worry, Markus. You’re okay. Love, Ralph.

  My head ached, and my ears felt plugged, but I’d recover. I was knocked out by Ralph’s scream; then, because I was exhausted, overly stressed, and sleep deprived, I just continued to slumber. Never tell an alien to scream as loud as possible.

  The quiet of the house was contagious, and I walked gently on the floor. When I opened the door to exit, a large puppy scurried in and jumped on the bed to harass the older dog with its youth.

  I walked on the slippery parquet floors of the wide hallway, past several large empty bedrooms, to the grand marble staircase leading down to the main entrance.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I heard electronic beeps coming from the front door. It was the noise of someone inputting a code on a keypad. The door opened and a well-dressed, professional-looking man was surprised to see me. He had mail in his hands. We both had the same question on our faces, but I asked first.

  “Who are you?”

  I must have looked at home with no shoes and no shirt on. He erased the inquisitive glare from his face, slapped his forehead playfully, and smiled. He put out his hand to shake mine as he walked to me with confidence.

  “Of course, we don’t recognize each other. I’m Noah Alpert, and you must be Mr. Ellison . . . I mean Emerson, Emerson,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Emerson, but I’m sure you understand. I’ve been interacting with your assistant for so long; it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Everything has been prepared exactly as you requested.”

  I had no clue what the hell he was talking about, but his tone suggested I belonged. I continued to look at him curiously while we shook hands.

  “Mr. Alpert?” I asked with a small scowl.

  “Oh dear, I just can’t stop being awkward . . . I’m the property manager. Oh, and here’s your mail,” he said as he handed me three envelopes.

  Each envelope was addressed to Ralph Waldo Emerson in Grasonville, Maryland.

  “Call me ‘Ralph,’” I said with a smile.

  Until that point, it hadn’t occurred to me Ralph might have a full name, but he did: Ralph Waldo Emerson. He took it from the nineteenth-century American philosopher of the same name. Not being a philosopher, I was unaware of any deeper meaning of this choice.

  I correctly guessed Ralph had been interacting with this man purely through e-mails and phone calls while still on the moon. Mr. Alpert assured me he had maintained the estate, fed the dogs, and played with them every day, as required. He was nervous, and I was lucky he didn’t recognize my face. Maybe this was because of the gigantic homophobic rainbow in the sky.

  When he left I looked at the mail. There were two credit cards, each with a $100,000-dollar credit limit on them, as well as an ATM card. Each card had the name ‘Ralph Waldo Emerson’ on it.

  Then, Ralph Waldo Emerson himself bounced down the hallway and gave a glowing hug.

  “Explain to me what the hell is happening, Mr. Emerson, or I scream,” I said.

  He turned a shy shade of purple and explained what happened with Lieutenant Barber and Alice Higginbotham the night before. He said they w
ere both ‘pleasant humans’ and were currently out shopping for human food, as the pantry and fridge were bare. With much distress, Ralph reconfirmed Francis’s intention to kill us, which Lieutenant Barber had confided to him.

  “Oh shit,” I said, feeling my pockets. “Where’s my phone, the one Francis gave me?”

  “I’m way ahead of you. I ditched both our phones back at the barracks in Fort Ritchie.”

  “Good job,” I said, and breathed easier, knowing we could not be tracked. It was a lot to digest with a headache, but I understood enough to move on to the larger question surrounding us.

  “Do you own this place?”

  “You like it?” His glow grew golden.

  Ralph was rich. In fact, he was a multimillionaire before ever stepping on Earth. Keep in mind, Ralph had been on the moon for at least ten years, had Internet access, free time, and could hack any database accessible from the Internet. Though he broke some laws, he managed to earn his money without stealing it.

  How? Online poker.

  First, he stole the identity of an identity thief and got a new credit card account in their name. Using that account, he started playing online poker with the screen name ‘Waldo.’

  Officially, Ralph was a British citizen living in the Cayman Islands. He used his poker earnings to bribe, via e-mail and phone calls, authorities on the islands to establish his citizenship and residency. He had a house and property manager there too. As a resident, it was easy to get another credit card and transfer all his poker earnings, via PayPal, from the old credit card to the new, legal one.

  Within a month of playing online poker, Waldo built up a bankroll of $100,000 US. Within two years, he had over $30 million.

  He dominated the big, nosebleed cash games, and challenged anyone to play any variant of poker, for any stakes. One advantage of online poker is the ability to play multiple poker tables at once. At the height of his game, Waldo played twenty tables simultaneously against multiple players starting with a million dollars at each table. He earned money from nearly every online poker pro on the planet, except Phil Ivey, whom he broke even with.

  “Did you cheat?”

  “Of course not. Where would be the fun in that?”

  There were widespread accusations of cheating/hacking against Waldo, and storms of speculation about his identity, but no one could prove anything. After a while, people just stopped playing him. He had outclassed himself. So, he looked for new ways to make money, mostly through investments in the stock market. Wisely, he invested most of his money in PepsiCo before the lunar advertisement appeared.

  He bought the house four months before he ever entered it. From inside, it felt like a small mansion and smelled of seamless renovations. It was set back from the main road by at least an acre of lush, green lawn, and was the most impressive home in the small, upper-middle-class neighborhood. In case negotiations with humans did not go as hoped, Ralph had a backup plan, and this was it.

  When he was done explaining, the front door opened. Lieutenant Barber gave a knowing nod, Alice gave a shy smile, and Ralph hugged everyone for good measure.

  The dogs were lingering by the front door when they returned, and the larger dog began jumping and pawing at Alice, who was busy holding grocery bags.

  “Ralph, Sally is being impossible,” Alice said.

  “C’mere, Sally,” Ralph said, and Sally obeyed happily.

  Alice walked to the kitchen, and Lieutenant Barber put his grocery bag on the ground.

  “Could you help me bring in groceries?” Lieutenant Barber asked. He didn’t need help.

  “Of course,” I said and walked outside. I was struck by the acre-sized front lawn, and right in the middle was an uncanny white cylinder, as tall as a man.

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing.

  He looked at me and said nothing. He was silent, so I tried making small talk with him. “Samantha told me you two are old friends.”

  He glanced at me, nodding almost imperceptibly.

  “Were you two ever . . . um—”

  “She’s not my type of bitch,” he said. I wasn’t used to this type of macho talk.

  “Oh, really? What type of bitch do you prefer?”

  He stopped, and for the first time I saw him smile. He gazed up at the rainbow sky banner, looked back down in my face, and said, “Let’s just say God hates me.”

  I laughed, and we quickened our pace to the car.

  “Ralph tells me Samantha saved our asses last night,” I said.

  He didn’t respond. I was trying to be subtle, and it didn’t work.

  “Would you have killed Ralph and me . . . if Samantha hadn’t called you?”

  He kept his pace and gave an angry, ambiguous look.

  Out of every human I’ve ever met, Lieutenant Barber was the least compelled to respond to anything anyone said. It was oddly passive-aggressive for someone skilled in active aggression. As time went on, he would open up more, but talking seemed to annoy him, as if he was eating with a bad tooth. We got near the car, and he grabbed my elbow. He wanted to speak, but was uncomfortable putting the words together. He exhaled.

  “Doc . . . about bubble boy—”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Is he really an alien?”

  I looked back at Ralph by the front door playing with his puppy, glowing pink.

  “What would make you think he’s not?”

  The lieutenant looked over at Ralph and leaned in. “Do you trust him?”

  “I trust Ralph more than any human on the planet.”

  He was studying my face, measuring my sincerity, when we heard Alice yelling inside.

  It was 1:15 p.m. in DC, Eastern Standard Time.

  Ralph motioned us into the house, so we rushed. We were led to a room on the first floor with a long couch opposite the largest flat-screen TV I’d ever seen.

  A CNN correspondent in Beijing was reporting live and pointing her finger upward. Traffic had stopped in the street behind her. Every pedestrian in view was staring at the sky.

  “It’s the second sky banner,” Ralph said.

  The news coverage was split-screen with the reporter on one side, and a gigantic white sky banner on the other. This banner was much longer and thinner than the first.

  “It looks like a blank fortune . . . I mean, like a fortune from a fortune cookie,” Alice said.

  It did. This was not an accident. It was just one more part of the mockery. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find lottery numbers on the other side.

  Then the message appeared, in Chinese.

  学英语 自慰隊

  The Chinese people in the background had mixed reactions. The younger ones mostly laughed, while others squinted and looked curiously at their neighbors. The older they were, the more disgusted they looked. It was all difficult to interpret, and the speechless CNN correspondent was embarrassed.

  “Well . . . That’s not very nice,” Ralph said.

  “America gets ‘God Hates Fags,’ and the Chinese get ‘not very nice’?” Alice said.

  “What does it say?” the CNN anchor asked the Beijing correspondent.

  The correspondent regained her composure and answered, “Apparently, the aliens are issuing a command . . . demanding the people of China to . . . learn English. But . . . It seems there are some mistakes, and perhaps something got lost in translation. The command to ‘Learn English’ is followed by an insult, zì wèi duì, usually reserved for the Japanese—”

  Before she finished, an old and petite Chinese lady walked into frame and knocked the correspondent on the head with her cane. Then, someone threw a can of Coca-Cola at her and missed. The camera was jostled, and the video feed cut off amid the twanging argument of Chinese voices. I lowered the volume on the TV.

  “Ralph, what does it say?”

  “. . . The literal meaning is something like: Learn English, You Self-Defense Forces.”

  “And the not-so-literal meaning?”

  “Learn Englis
h, You Japanese Jerk-Offs.”

  Even the stoic Lieutenant Barber looked at Ralph in disbelief.

  “They order the Chinese to learn English and call them ‘jerk-offs’? But they can’t tell the difference between the Chinese and the Japanese? Are they serious?” Alice asked.

  “Yes,” Ralph lied. “They are just a bunch of religious extremists who care little for the differences of Earth’s many cultures. I doubt they even bothered to learn Chinese. They probably just used Google translator.”

  “Aren’t these supposed to be the words of God?” Alice reminded.

  “They know English is a common language. Since they’ve chosen to use it, they want Asians to learn it.”

  Neither English nor masturbation is particularly taboo in China, but to confuse a Japanese person with a Chinese person is.

  In the 1937 Nanking massacre, Imperial Japanese forces invaded the Chinese city of Nanking and slaughtered upward to 300,000 people during a six-week period—more than 7,000 murders per day. The large majority of these killings were the cold-blooded murders of civilians.

  Europe had Nazi Germany, and Asia had Imperialist Japan.

  But, if the Kardashians intended the second sky banner to sow the same dissent as the first, they were mistaken. It did little to reignite the old animosity between Japan and China.

  Nonetheless, there would be consequences.

  XXXIV

  INVASION

  It was fifteen minutes after the Asian sky banner: 1:30 p.m., EST.

  Like chameleons, the invading Kardashian ships changed color to white and aimed for Earth. Descending from the upper atmosphere all around the planet, they achieved global air supremacy instantly. Those long tubular white ships, anywhere from a half mile to twenty miles in length, numbered in the thousands, and quaintly resembled the much-larger ship still stationed near Pluto.

  It was a show of force. Only the Americans had the nerve to send up aircraft to inspect the invading ships. But, the human aircraft were treated as less than gadflies, not even worth swatting. It was just as Ralph had predicted: the Kardashians would not attack unprovoked.