The Simpleton: An Alien Encounter

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  With breakfast eaten, his chores all done, he was now walking in the woods alone, and it wasn’t the same. Typically, Cuddy liked talking to Rufus, even though the dog couldn’t say anything back. He’d point out things that he found interesting, funny, or weird, and Rufus would look up at him like he understood. Rufus was a smart dog.

  So right then, when Cuddy came upon the strangest oddity of all, he looked down to get Rufus’s reaction. Disappointed—not seeing his dog’s friendly face staring up at him—Cuddy brought his full attention to the oddity before him. Now remembering, he had seen him before … the sad-looking angel in his dream? Or was it a dream? It occurred to Cuddy that he might be in danger. The recent encounter with those two tough men near the railroad tracks had taught him a good lesson. One Momma had reminded him of only this morning: Stay away from strangers! But was this, whatever it was, a stranger? Strangers were people. Was this oddity an actual person? That didn’t seem likely.

  The odd being was sitting on a large rock, staring down at the water. Cuddy studied the glowing figure, keeping perfectly still, like when he watched a deer family’s approach. The trick was to become quiet in both movement and thought. Cuddy watched the odd one’s face, whose features weren’t that different from anyone else’s. But there seemed to be some sadness about him, and Cuddy wished he could alleviate his unhappiness. He wondered what was making whatever it was feel so sad.

  “I get sad, too,” Cuddy said. “Officer Plumkin took my dog.”

  The ghostly oddity looked up at him with surprise—with almost panic in his eyes. His mouth moved to speak but no words came out. Cuddy hadn’t expected him to talk, any more than he did Rufus. Taking a tentative step forward, he said, “I sometimes sit on that same rock. Yup … right where you’re sitting.” Cuddy came within several paces then plopped himself down onto a patch of accumulated leaves and pine needles. He looked around the ground and plucked up a small twig. Using it to stir the water, he added, “My name is Cuddy. I think it means donkey in another country.”

  The oddity, seeming to have settled down a bit, nodded at that. “My name is Tow … from the lineage of Pon. You can call me Tow, if you like.”

  Cuddy stared at Tow for a long time. First of all, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure that what he was seeing was real. Second, how could a ghost even speak to him? He said, “I didn’t think ghosts could talk.”

  Tow pondered that one over. “I am not a ghost, Cuddy.”

  “Are you a person … like me?”

  Tow shook his head no.

  “Where are you from?”

  Tow seemed to find that funny, because he smiled then looked upward, pointing to the sky.

  Cuddy said, “An alien? Are you funnin’ with me … because of my disability? My accident?”

  “No Cuddy, I would not do that.”

  “Can I take you to meet my Momma? She’s not far …”

  “No, Cuddy. I do not want to be discovered … or found. Your presence here changes things. It puts me in danger.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I am too.”

  Cuddy nervously played with the twig for a while then looked over at Tow. “Where do you live? Do you have a house? Maybe underground … or up in a tree?”

  Again smiling, Tow said, “I live in a spacecraft. One that has traveled many many miles before landing here on your world.”

  Cuddy’s eyes went wide. “A spaceship? Seriously? Where is it? Can you show me?”

  “Maybe later, but Cuddy … remember, I do not want to be found. If you told anyone, even your Momma, it would be very bad for me. People here would not understand.”

  “People don’t understand me, either,” Cuddy said. “Do people make fun of you, Tow? Do they say mean things? Laugh at you?”

  “No, not for a long time. You see … I’m all alone now.”

  * * *

  Tow’s mind raced. He’d been reckless—reckless and selfish—jeopardizing the entire mission by his lackadaisical response to news of the approaching Howsh. The lack of pressure he’d placed on the AI orb to get the various ship systems up and running, so he could get the ship’s propulsion system again operational. And now he knew why. He didn’t want to leave this place. He wanted to stay—to simply give up—and become part of this world. Find his own unique place here amongst the white-tailed deer, the fox, and even the strange humans. But that would not be possible. Could never be possible. Looking across at the strange humanoid, with the childlike mind, he knew that.

  Tow coughed, then coughed again. His chest burned somewhere deep within. Coughing again into his open palm, he studied the phlegm, noting its bluish mucous. Inexplicably, the time clock had started: the Dirth. Suddenly, he’d become symptomatic, with mere weeks to live. No, he would never reach Primara now—that was a certainty. Tow’s mind turned to Soweng—as it often did when he was faced with his own mortality. Oddly enough, he found himself strangely at peace. Soon he would be with her again. Or would he? He was the last of his kind, the last Pashier. With his demise, who would add his essence to the heritage pod? For that matter, who would deliver the heritage pod to Primara?

  With finite resolution, Tow’s eyes settled onto Cuddy’s inquiring face. There was much work to do and little time to do it in.

  The human spoke again, “Are you … are you an angel?”

  “No, Cuddy, I am not. But what I can be is your friend.”

  Chapter 10

  They walked together in the forest. Birds sang their musical tweets and hidden insects chirped in unison.

  Cuddy pointed. “That’s a squirrel … up there on the tree branch. Do you have squirrels where you come from?”

  “Something similar … called yeemics,” Tow said, watching the small rodent scurry up the tree to a higher branch. He found the human to be both earnest and likable, and wondered if he’d ever encountered another being so void of malice—such a genuinely good soul. But he would have to tread carefully here. Push too hard and he’d alienate the simpleton—jeopardize not only himself, but all Pashier to a bleak fate. He thought about the word … fate. What he was contemplating would dramatically alter the life of this young savage. Would it be for the better? There was no clear answer to that. His life would become far more complicated, that was for certain.

  Cuddy stopped in his tracks with an audible inhalation of breath, spotting the Evermore up ahead, nestled in the clearing.

  “A spaceship!”

  “That is right, Cuddy. It is called the Evermore.”

  “You were telling the truth! And it’s so … big!”

  Tow watched Cuddy grow somewhat hesitant to move closer.

  “Perhaps this is close enough,” Tow said. “If you are scared that’s perfectly fine, Cuddy.”

  “I’m not scared. I’m …”

  “It’s all right, Cuddy. You are looking at something, I suspect, no one else on your world has ever seen. It is okay to be overwhelmed. Now could be the time for you to return home.” Tow inwardly hoped the human would rebuff the suggestion.

  “Maybe you’re right. I am kinda getting hungry.”

  “Yes … good idea. I’m going to have my lunch, as well,” Tow said. An AI-derived suggestion informed him the humanoid would be inclined to stay if a certain type food was offered him. “I will be having grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Have you heard of such a meal … here on Earth, Cuddy?”

  Cuddy looked at Tow with astonishment. “That’s my very favorite. Momma makes the best grilled cheeses. Do you want to come over to my house for lunch?”

  “No, Cuddy. As I told you before, no one can know of my existence here. It would be dangerous for me.”

  Cuddy’s expression relayed the fact that he’d forgotten that but now remembered. “Can I eat lunch with you … in your spaceship?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I guess that will be all right.”

  * * *

  Tow set upon the AI orb the task of configuring the galley food replicator for making the ultima
te grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. A meal that sounded ghastly to the alien—but seemed a small price to pay.

  As they approached, the side hatchway slid open then disappeared into the hull as the gangway extended outward toward them. This was a crucial point—the human could decide to reconsider entering the alien ship.

  Tow said, “I hope you don’t mind. The way I make a grilled cheese is with strips of cooked bacon. Have you ever tried that, Cuddy?”

  Again, Cuddy’s eyes went wide.

  * * *

  Cuddy followed the glowing white figure up the angled plank, noticing for the first time the alien limped. Stepping inside, Cuddy hesitated—finding it hard to take everything in at once. The spaceship’s futuristic interior was different from any he’d seen on TV, or in space movies, but then again there was some similarity. It was very spacious. He wondered how it could be so much bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outer. He also wondered if he should leave right now, as Momma would probably disapprove of him being here.

  “I wish Rufus was here to see this,” Cuddy said, as he panned the space before him. A myriad of soft blinking lights glowed, and much of the spaceship’s interior seemed to be made of chrome and glass. What looked like floating television screens hovered in the air, and everything was so clean. Self-consciously, he glanced down at his mud-caked Keds.

  “They are fine, Cuddy. Your soiled shoes will not be a problem. Come this way … lunch is ready. I hope you like vanilla ice cream, too; it is my favorite dessert,” Tow casually added.

  Cuddy, becoming overwhelmed—to the point he didn’t really know what to think, or say, or how to act—followed Tow through the interior of the ship that he figured was nearing the back. Tow then motioned that he should follow him down a circular series of glass steps. Hearing Tow cough several times, he wondered if the alien was catching a cold. Momma would smother his chest with that awful-smelling Vicks VapoRub and send him to bed.

  “This is what’s called the ship’s galley, Cuddy. It’s like a kitchen. Go ahead and have a seat at the table and I’ll bring your lunch over to you.”

  Cuddy eyed the flat, crystal-clear surface and, leaning sideways to see beneath it, said, “There’s no legs!”

  Tow followed Cuddy’s gaze and smiled. “You are correct, there are no table legs—they are not necessary on this spaceship. Sit!”

  Cuddy did as told and watched the alien move around the strange-looking kitchen. Bringing a tray over, he placed it in front of Cuddy, who watched Tow’s expression—he looked unsure of himself. The tray held a plate with a large golden-brown sandwich atop it. Sliced in half, corner to corner, the toasted bread was thick—bright yellow cheese oozed out from inside. Cuddy spied the ends of bacon strips poking out the two halves. On a separate plate, a bowl contained what looked like steaming hot, dark red-orangey tomato soup.

  Cuddy didn’t hesitate. Grabbing one of the halves, he bit into the center of the sandwich. He chewed for a moment, as if assessing it. It was perfect—the most perfect sandwich he’d ever tasted. Even better than Momma’s, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

  Tow left, returning with a strange-looking spoon that he placed next to the bowl of soup. “You are going to need that, I imagine,” he said.

  The alien stood by and watched him eat, which was kinda weird. But then Momma did that pretty often too—so he let it go. “Are you going to eat, Tow?”

  “Not right now.” Tow took a seat next to Cuddy and made a serious face then asked, “Would you let me do you a favor?”

  “I don’t know. What?”

  “It would only take fifteen minutes.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “Would you let me heal the injuries on your lip and cheeks? After you finish your lunch.”

  “I don’t know … they’ll get better on their own. I hurt myself all the time. Things get better if I don’t pick at them, or do something stupid to re-hurt them.”

  As Tow continued to stare back at him, it became apparent this was important to the glowing alien. The truth was, his split lips almost always hurt, especially when he laughed or tried to whistle for Rufus. And even now as he bit into the sandwich. “I guess it would be okay.”

  Tow brought over a small bowl of ice cream drenched in hot chocolate syrup.

  * * *

  Tow felt as if he might throw up again. After tasked with the collapsed sleeping berths, the smell of the foul human food was enough to put him over the edge. He quickly tried to think of other things, like what was at stake here. He looked across the wellness chamber to where Cuddy now sat.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Cuddy asked.

  “Simply sit there.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you, so your lip and cheek can be repaired.”

  “By just sitting here? That’s ridiculous!”

  “It may seem that way to you, Cuddy.”

  Cuddy reached a hand up and touched his lip. With a furrowed brow, he pressed his fingers down somewhat harder. Looking over to Tow, he said, “I guess it hurts a bit less than it did before.”

  “Yes … we’ll give it another ten minutes, then we’re done until next time.”

  “Next time?”

  “Yes. Your face will be all better today, but I wanted to ask you an important question.”

  “Okay … just ask me.”

  “You’ll need to think long and hard before answering,” Tow said.

  Cuddy waited for the question.

  “What would you say if I told you I could make you really smart, like you never had that accident happen … when you were younger?” Tow watched the young human’s expression. Cuddy’s eyes looked away—unfocussed—as he thought about the question. Balancing things out the best he could in his growth-stunted mind. Earlier, Tow had decided this deception would only go so far, and that hereafter he would attempt to be ethical. He wouldn’t be like the Howsh—a wrecker of divergent life forms.

  In truth, the healing process to Cuddy’s brain began as soon as he took a seat within the wellness chamber. Invisible manipulations were occurring—faster than thought—faster than the speed of light. His brain matter was being reconstituted; first to a reference point dictated by human DNA indices, then to that of the superior Pashier physiology. But Cuddy would need several other sessions. The effects from a single session would hardly be noticeable. But with that said, Tow was unfamiliar with human physiology, knowing only that humans had large brains. Even larger than Pashier’s.

  Tow watched Cuddy fiddle with his untied shoelaces and sadness tugged his heart. This man-boy child was actually no longer completely human. Even now, he had become a different being and would never again be quite the same. Tow instantly regretted his subversive action. In principle, was he any different than the Howsh? What have I done?

  Cuddy suddenly straightened up and leaned back in his seat—his brows pulled together. “I don’t know what is happening to me … I don’t like what is going on … in my head. I want it back the way it was, Tow. Make it the way it was!”

  Tow watched as Cuddy brought his fists up to both sides of this head and started to pound against his skull in a staccato rhythm.

  Tow moved quickly—kneeling down in front of Cuddy. He took hold of his fists. “Stop … Cuddy … it will get better … I promise. Just give it a little time.” But Tow wasn’t sure his words were, in fact, true. What have I done?

  Tow watched as Cuddy’s anger turned to fear—fear along with a confluence of other emotions. Tow hadn’t thought he could feel any worse, but now seeing the tears streaming down Cuddy’s cheeks, he realized he was wrong.

  Abruptly, Cuddy stood up. Seemingly disoriented, he looked around the confined space—panic increasing with each hurried breath. “I want out … I want out!”

  Tow hurried to the control panel and got the hatch open. Cuddy ran like a scared wild animal released from a cage.

  Chapter 11

  Tony Bone gave it one more shake and left the toilet bo
wl unflushed. Turning around, he came face to face with himself as he studied his reflection in the dirty mirror. Two long strips of medical tape were on his nose—one high up at the bridge, one lower, near midway. His nose was purple and looked twice its normal size—both nostrils plugged with gauze. Now, in order to breathe, he had to inhale through his mouth, so his jaws were always ajar. He knew it made him look retarded and instantly thought of Cuddy Perkins. He felt anger rise up and hatred. That big mother fucker is going to die for this …

  He exited the bathroom, zipping up his fly.

  “I can’t even look at you without getting annoyed, boy.”

  “Christ … come on! Leave it alone, Dad,” Tony said, plopping down into the middle of the sofa.

  He watched as his father in the kitchen tilted his large head back, swallowing the last dregs in his coffee cup. Setting the cup down in the sink, he gave Tony a sideways glance. “Hey … you don’t take the Lord’s name in vain in my house.” His father buckled his thick black holstered belt around his hips then continued, “… I’m just saying, boy, it’s all over the damn station.”

  Tony shut his eyes and groaned. He’d already heard the same shit the night before. How the Woodbury Police Station buzzed with what had happened. How the retarded Perkins kid broke the sheriff kid’s nose. The problem was the station did double-duty—was both a police station and a jailhouse. So the inmates, mostly drunks sleeping it off from a night-before bender, wouldn’t shut up about it. The one person you didn’t want to taunt in the town of Woodbury was Sheriff Bone, his father. He had no sense of humor. None.

  “I sent Plumkin out there to collect the boy, but he came back with the damn dog instead. I want you and Gary to submit formal, written complaints, so get your asses into the station this morning, understand?”