by Larry Niven
“They didn’t seem to mind the probes. Maybe they’ll want visitors.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Cheri, how much territory is a millionth of Mars?”
“Why?”
“It’s my commission. It might be enough for an embassy.”
It turns out to be around a hundred and forty square kilometers.
PLAYGROUND EARTH
It was wonderfully peaceful in the dark beneath Europa’s ice. The VR setup saw in infrared. The little scooter tootled among schools of alien swimmers lit by their own heat. Most of them looked like translucent squid or ambulatory jet engines. One variety had carved the underside of the ice into channels and buildings, a whole inverted city.
I had put my life on hold while recovering from a chain of misfortunes.
A Chirpsithra, Diplomat-by-Choice Ktashisnif, had died of allergies while in custody of human kidnappers. The perps had been turned over to the crew of Transstar Code, and the Chirps had executed them in the same way Ktashisnif had died, by slow suffocation. In a flurry of bad publicity, Transstar Code had departed Earth and Sol system and left me holding the bag.
I’d closed the Draco Tavern. I had little choice.
Wandering Signal took up orbit around the Moon a month later. Various diplomats inside and outside the UN attempted to stop the ship from sending landers. They may have been too subtle, and nobody fired any weapons at visiting aliens, though we’d worried about that.
The landers the Chirpsithra use are nowhere near the size of their interstellar liners, but they’re big and conspicuous. It may be a good thing that Mount Forel is so inaccessible; the ship got its share of news cameras anyway. And someone mailed a package to the Draco Tavern that turned out to be a bomb.
Some of us were inside doing maintenance. The bomb killed another Chirpsithra, Engineer Hrashantree, and left me with internal injuries. It would have hurt a lot more of us if the Tavern hadn’t been closed.
In the weeks that followed I sat or lay around being entertained by little sensor packages that various aliens have been sending out among the planets. The proxies crawl or swim across most of the interesting places in the solar system. Departing Chirpsithra liners don’t bother to collect them; the next starship just links up, and Earth’s satellite network have access too.
Mars was fun for a while, but there weren’t any life-forms to make the place interesting. Pluto and Charon hosted actual tourists wearing video cameras and other sensors, entities who could never visit Earth. Jupiter was just confusing. Europa—
My virtuals went black and jerked me from under the Europan ice, back into my bedroom. I blinked and tried to sit up. “Beth?”
“You have friends,” Beth Marble said.
“I’ve got lots of friends.” I sat up, lifting mostly with my arms; but my belly muscles were growing back together. Soon, leg lifts.
Beth said, “Your friends in lobster shells that are too tall for the ceilings. Can they come in?”
“Chirpsithra. Sure, bring ’em in.”
Beth Marble had gotten a raw deal. She’d been a psychiatric technician taking care of developmentally disabled patients until, in her mid-thirties, she’d opted to work with minds more alien than that. She’d put in for work at the Draco Tavern. She was lucky the bomb hadn’t caught her. Now she was taking care of me until we could get the Tavern rolling again.
She came back with a pair of Chirpsithra. At eleven feet tall they entered crouched over, and immediately sat on the floor. Beth took the reading chair.
“I wish I had better hospitality to offer,” I said. “I don’t even have sparkers for you.”
“Travel involves occasional discomfort. If need sparkers or to straighten up, we return to the lander,” one said in Lottl. “I am Shastrastinth, this is Stachun. How is your health?”
“Much improved. I would have been crippled without Gligstith(click)optok medical assistance.” I wondered how much the Glig had learned of human physiology that way, then dismissed the thought. They’d studied human tourists on their own world; they had our DNA.
I asked, “How are your passengers?”
“Restless. Some have decided to travel.” She was still speaking Lottl. Beth’s translator was on. I reached for mine.
“I saw some of that on the news,” Beth said. “Gligstith ... the gray ones built like little walking tanks. They wear green furs? They’ve been visiting hospitals. And the wolflike things—”
Unease crawled up my rebuilt spine. “Tell me more.”
Following the explosion there had been a period of dithering on the part of Wandering Signal’s crew and passengers, matched by dithering from the United Nations. Various diplomats were trying not to admit that they didn’t want aliens running loose across the Earth. Others, isolationists and Muslim and Christian fundamentalists, were screaming their heads off, but they’ve been doing that since the first ship was sighted.
Chirpsithra crew and their varied passengers had done some touring even when the Draco Tavern was available to keep them occupied. Funds that would have repaired the Tavern after the bomb had dried up. Meanwhile sixty or seventy aliens of a dozen species—I was guessing a little here—had been sitting in Wandering Signal’s lander, possibly waiting for an engraved invitation that wasn’t going to come.
Then I’d stopped watching the news.
Shastrastinth said, “The Mnemoposh have caused disturbances. They never come out of the lander, but they explore virtually. Their probes look like miniature selves, and they are large enough to be noticed. Some of your kind fear large insects.”
“I do.” Beth hadn’t told me that when she signed up for the Tavern. “Most of the probes are this size,” the size of her thumb. “Tens of thousands of them, wandering all over the Earth.”
“Not conspicuous,” Shastrastinth said.
“CNN has videotapes.”
“These are complex machines, for all of their size,” said Shastrastinth. “Many include projectors and translator-speakers.”
Beth said, “A lot of people have seen big metal-and-plastic bugs. In Africa and the Mideast they think the Americans make them. Now the Gligstith,” she clicked her tongue, “them, they’ve started visiting hospitals.”
Shastrastinth said, “We have no good sense how your folk will react to our renewed presence. They rioted when we executed Ktashisnif’s killers. That surprised us. We hoped you might help us understand.”
I said, “Seven billion people go in seven billion directions. I don’t predict human behavior any better than I do yours. Do you think you can persuade the Mnemoposh to give interviews? I don’t mind what they look like as long as they’re willing to talk about what they’ve seen on Earth. Get them to act like tourists until they aren’t news anymore.”
“We may ask,” the alien said.
“What about the Glig? Visiting hospitals doesn’t sound bad.”
Beth said, “Most hospitals won’t let them in, most countries. They took a tour through St. John’s in Santa Monica. NBC followed them around with cameras. They scare some of the patients. They dropped a lot of hints. Some doctors on TV are talking about big changes in medical practice. Others don’t like it.”
Some doctors would have trouble keeping up, and they wouldn’t like changes. I said, “That sounds generally good. What about the Folk?”
“The ones like wolves with their heads on upside down?”
“That’s them.”
Beth was repressing a shudder. I was starting to wonder if the Draco Tavern was really her thing. She said, “They’re annoying the hell out of police departments in various countries.”
“Sure, they’re hunters. They’re trying to hunt down the bomber.”
“Well, they’ve been collecting people. Arresting them. I’m sorry you got hurt, Rick, but how many bombers can they get for one bomb?”
“How many have they got?”
“I think ... eleven. Some of them are on the FBI and CIA terror lists. And the Folk w
on’t talk to anyone about it.”
“Yet again, that sounds like the problem,” I said. “Talk them into giving interviews, Shastrastinth.”
“Folk don’t talk well. We thought an intermediary would be best. You, Rick Schumann.”
“I’m not up to it.” It may be I’d needed a vacation, or even a few weeks in a rest home, even before the bomb went off. I’d grown tired of my role as bartender to aliens. Strange shapes and sizes and odors and diets don’t bother me after all these years, but for the moment I just couldn’t face being tossed back into that storm of controversy and misunderstandings, alien viewpoints and mind-bending surprises.
I asked, “What are your other passengers doing? Anything that hasn’t been noticed?”
“No,” said Shastrastinth.
Stachun spoke for the first time. “Wastlubl is loose.”
“Wastlubl is inconspicuous,” Shastrastinth said.
Suddenly I was feeling wiped out. I said, “Tell you what, I’ll start watching news again. My translator can reach you, right? I’ll call you if anything occurs to me.”
So I immersed myself in the news. I ran the TV while Beth had me on physical therapy, and while I ate, and while I slept. My mind was still a little mushy. It took me a couple of days to catch up.
The Folk had arrested twelve people. Two of those were French, six were Saudi, the rest were random and hard to place. The Folk made no secret of their activities, but they didn’t talk either; they just swooped, swept the locality with some kind of stun beam, and grabbed.
Aliens toured the Louvre: a smooth-skinned flightless bird guiding a floating table that carried ten golden bugs ten inches tall. I recognized the Bebebebeque, but not the bird. Cameras followed them as they explored, the bird croaking questions at a bewildered French escort.
An oversized entity was visiting landmarks: the pyramids of Egypt and Mexico, Mount Rushmore, Rome and Tokyo. I watched her looming over a camera crew at the St. Louis Arch.
I called the lander.
“Shastrastinth, I don’t know what you call conspicuous,” I said. “There’s an alien your height, built like a big-headed mantis, three jaws for a mouth, talks to anyone at all—”
“Tenjer is child of a species whose adults cannot travel,” she said. “She’s seeking Wastlubl, her ... pet, instructor, playmate, toy. They’re playing hide-and-seek. Wastlubl will set ever more difficult puzzles while Tenjer tries to find it.”
“Child. Okay. Tenjer seems bright enough—”
“The child is intelligent. Adults are even more so. Is Tenjer giving enough interviews to satisfy you?”
“Sure, the kid just doesn’t make much sense. Now, was it you who got the Folk talking?”
“I asked them to be more interactive.”
If that was a mistake, it was mine. I said, “One of their... prey has confessed to blowing up the Tavern. Amory Saloman, American, wants to sell the story to NBC. The Folk don’t want to let him go.”
“Problem will solve itself if we wait. Can he talk from his confinement?”
“I’m not his agent. Let them thrash it out on their own. Now, what’s going on in the ocean around Hawaii?”
“I did expect those to be inconspicuous. The Sea People hail from a world much like your own, but lack exposed continents. Would you wish to swim with them? Some adults wear sensor gear, you can use a virtual link.”
“... Maybe later. Adults? Are they breeding?” Complaints had been reported from fishermen: their catch was being depleted.
“Their progeny will be unsapient and sterile. One generation only.”
“What do they eat?”
“They eat what they find in the sea.”
“It would help if you could get the Sea People to keep their numbers down.”
“We will ask.”
“Next. Do you know anything about a Dianna Gustal? She’s claiming contact with an alien.”
“One of our passengers?”
Who else? There weren’t any other aliens. Then again, the woman sounded crazy. “Her alien seems to be the fount of all wisdom. It’s been everywhere, done everything, seen every interesting moment in human history. Trouble is, I’ve heard Chirpsithra talk like that. Is there one of your people who just can’t stand not talking to the natives?”
“Shrug. Rick, our concern is to keep the peace. What threatens the peace here?”
“Don’t know. I’m glad the Folk are doing their job. They’ll find the worst threats.” I wasn’t sure of what I was saying. Watching the Folk in action could scare a lot of people over the edge.
They put me on physical therapy. It would have been hellish, but I remembered worse. I remembered being unable to move at all, back a few weeks ago.
The Sea People took action to improve their image. With the help of a Venezuelan company, they did underwater work to set up an OTEC power plant. It would use the temperature difference between surface water and bottom water in the ocean to make electric power. The side effect: currents would stir up sea bottom soil. More trace elements in the water. More fish.
I hoped some of Earth’s six billion would understand its purpose and take it as a kindness. Still, the Sea People, when they finally appeared on television, were shocking. They were eels, their streamlining ruined by a collar of limbs and a tremendous toothy head. Beth didn’t like them at all. Earth’s fish and crustaceans can be surpassingly ugly, but they couldn’t match the Sea People.
Yet the virtual link to the Sea People became hugely popular, especially in hospitals and rest homes. I tried it myself. I loved the dreamy feel of effortless swimming.
Dianna Gustal announced that her alien contact was—or had once been—Elvis Presley.
People around the world started seeing bugs the size of a ten-year-old child. I called the lander. Yes, they were hologram projections of the Mnemoposh.
Shastrastinth had a word with them. Now witnesses began seeing transparent people who talked like stand-up comics. That didn’t go over well either. The Tonight Show host, Jay Leno’s successor, started talking about Biblical plagues.
I was yanked away from the dark blue deeps off Maui. “What?” I demanded.
“Human on the phone,” Beth said, with composure. “From Washington, D.C. Says he’s with the Secretary General’s office.”
One Harold Macy wanted me to meet him at the Draco Tavern. He couldn’t say exactly what for. I agreed because I was becoming a little stir-crazy.
We put my motor chair in the SUV, and Beth drove us over the tundra.
Macy looked like an actor, tall, square jaw, intense green eyes, wonderful blond-going-gray hair. He looked around at the row of airlocks in front of the Tavern. Damage wasn’t visible from here. “That doesn’t look bad,” he said.
“Sonic shields took some of the force. Most of the damage is inside,” I said, “toward the back.”
So I took the chair through the big airlock and we toured the inside. Macy’s nose wrinkled at the interesting chemicals released first by the explosion, then by what was happening to the various foodstuffs stored here. We should have moved those outside.
I hadn’t wanted to see what the bomb had done. It was bad: not just the shattered booths, but darkness and mildew, the magic lost because of lost power, the dead feel to the place. Yet I felt a fierce pride. I’d built this over half my life span. This was mine.
The spa took Macy’s attention. “Do you need this?”
I’d put it in when I had some spare money. I said, “Sometimes a customer uses it. The Zash held a mating ceremony in there.” They’d invited me and Corinne to join them. “It needs a lot of cleaning. We can’t use chlorinated anything.”
“What would it cost to—”
“Nothing. It didn’t get damaged.”
He nodded. “How much to repair all the damage?”
“We’re guessing thirty billion dollars.”
“That sounds like a lot.”
“Could be more. Let’s go around back,” I said.
“Here.” I opened one that the Qarashteel used. It looked like a miniature chemical factory and smelled like one too. Macy shied back. I asked, “Can you see any damage?”
“No.”
“I can’t either. They say it’s a total loss. I understand some of what makes the Tavern work, at least well enough that I don’t poison anyone, but these toilets are a mystery. Doesn’t matter, they’re all plug-ins. The users bring their own. But the interfaces are all up against the back wall, so the explosion ruined a lot of them. I lost half my booths too, sonic dampers, translators—the news anchors talk about Hrashantree’s death and my injuries, but a translator network died too. That’s an intelligent being. We’d need a volunteer to replace it. Thirty billion is just a guess.”
“Okay.”
“What?”
Macy opened his briefcase. “I brought a contract.”
“Who’s supposed to pay for this?”
“Officially, it’s the Emergency Funds Office branch of the United Nations. There were assessments and contributions. Your aliens can be really annoying, you know? It’s not that we want to live without them. They’ve been changing civilization, the knowledge they bring in, and it’s usually for the better. But we’d rather they stay here, most of the time, anyway. The, uh, fish? You could feed them here, can’t you?”
“That bomb blew up my aquarium. Otherwise, sure, except that they’ve been breeding. They don’t do that when they don’t have room.”
“And that Godzilla-sized kid and his toy. It’d be easier to catch if it didn’t have the run of the whole planet.”
The Tavern was too small for that kind of chasing around. “How about confining them to just the Mount Forel environment?”
“Whatever. What are you doing?”
I was crossing out clauses in his contract. “I don’t want to give away the Tavern!”
“They won’t go for it.”