Sci fi for July

REDEEMING PURPOSE

Jack Bragen

I came to consciousness when a park ranger jostled me at the shoulder.  I realized I was on a bench facing the water, probably at the Marchbanks Marina, and I was in my boxer shorts and a t-shirt.  The cool ocean breeze nipped at my bare calves.  I realized that whatever unknown events had occurred, I must have thought well enough to wear my brown leather slippers.
     “Can you tell me what you’re doing here, sir?” the ranger asked.  His two way radio periodically made static or conveyed the voice of the dispatcher saying incomprehensible things. 
     I looked over my shoulder and spotted my little red Ford parked illegally, fifty yards from me.  A Marchbanks Police Officer was looking at the vehicle and was in the process of ticketing it.  The officer looked in my direction and shook his head. 
     “Sir, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.  I think I had some kind of memory lapse.”  I looked at my surroundings.  I realized that my laptop computer in its case rested on the bench next to me.  I looked at the ranger.  “If I can go home now, I promise I’ll get my head examined,” I said. 
     “Have you been drinking?” pressed the ranger. 
     I saw that now the policeman who had been ticketing my car was approaching.  I worried that they were planning a two on one against me.  I heard a female voice that came from the ranger’s two way radio saying, “Identity confirmed.  You have the go ahead for five-one-five-oh.” 
     The policeman approached and said, “We think you should go to a mental hospital.” 
     “They probably won’t keep you very long.  Just a couple of weeks, maybe—until you can get your head on straight,” said the park ranger.  “Stand up and face toward me,” he said. 
     I stood, and meanwhile, the Marchbanks police officer put handcuffs on my wrists.  He walked me to the patrol car, and I saw that a tow truck had arrived for my Ford.  Damn it, it would probably cost at least a hundred bucks to get my car back.  I rode in the back of the patrol car, and the officer drove to the back of County hospital, which is where psych emergency was located.  How did I end up at the marina in my pajamas?  Did someone drug me? 

##

My girlfriend had gotten off work early so that she could visit me at the hospital.  She was fond of “flipping back” her shoulder-length auburn hair.  She was wearing a light blue outfit and the necklace I had bought her for her birthday. 
     “A UFO was seen hovering next to the building near your window—the night before the cops found you at the marina,” she said.  “You might not really be crazy.”  She paused.  “There are pictures of the flying saucer in all the newspapers.  Mike got the picture of it on his blackberry.  He could have charged a fortune for those pictures, but no, he gave them to the newspapers for nothing.” 
     I had been locked up as a teenager for having too much enthusiasm for aliens.  I would read books about aliens all day after I got home from school.  I watched every low budget UFO documentary that I could find.  My parents were certain I was crazy and believed that the experience of a mental ward would straighten me out.  As far as anyone knew other than a couple of close friends, I had adopted the “skeptical” belief system, which meant that (I pretended) I disbelieved in extraterrestrials.  After being punished enough for being an individual, at the hands of my parents, I had adopted a façade of behavior that never deviated from “normal.”
     In that vein, I changed the subject.  I said, “Can the UFO do something about that woman over there?” I pointed at a girl in her twenties, Spanish speaking, who had been following me all over the psychiatric ward. 
      Anita, my girlfriend, said, “I know I can trust you, Dan.”
     “That’s not the issue,” I said.  “She won’t leave me alone.” 
     “Why don’t you complain to staff?”
     “Why didn’t I think of that?  Good idea,” I said.  I stood up and looked left and right trying to spot a hospital staff member.  I saw wall-to-wall patients, most of whom were eating their lunch, but no staff.  Abruptly, the young woman in question stood and walked up to me.  Then she put an object on the table next to me, and walked away.  I sat down and picked up the object.  It was a toy; a miniature flying saucer with a tiny alien inside that was seated behind a transparent plastic window of the saucer.  I realized that the little windshield could be opened up.  I took out the tiny alien and realized that there was a very small crumpled piece of paper that had been jammed underneath.  I looked at Anita.  I un-crumpled the bit of paper, and on it, there was a computer printed “beta” symbol in red ink, and nothing else.  I stood up again and looked for the young woman.  She was nowhere to be seen. 
     “Don’t make a deep interpretation of a ‘B’ on a piece of chewing gum paper,” said Anita. “There is no meaning to that.  Why do you think you’re here?”  She put a hand on my shoulder and shook it.
     I returned from my deep reverie.  “That’s not a message, is it?” I said. 
     “No.”  Anita took a chocolate bar from a plastic bag and handed it to me.  “Happy Halloween.  I work that day so I won’t see you.”
     The loudspeaker in the room announced that visiting hours were over.  With a hug and kiss, Anita departed, leaving me to fend for myself in the psychiatric ward in Marchbanks.   Soon after this, two policemen showed up at the front desk.  I had a view of it from where I stood in the dining room, because there was a big square hole in the door where there had once been one-way glass.  The two officers could see me too, obviously, and were looking right at me.  I resigned myself to whatever crap was about to go down, and waited there; and assumed I wasn’t getting dinner.  Soon, there was an officer on my left and right who appeared ready for action.
     “Mr. Simmons, your car caught fire at the impound lot,” said the officer on my left.  
     The other officer said, and inside it we found something that interested the FBI.”  He paused.  “What is it, Mr. Simmons?” 
     “Are you accusing me of something?” I said.  “Because if you are, I would like a lawyer.” 
     “We’re not accusing you, sir,” said the cop on my left.  “You’re not in trouble for possession of narcotics, weapons, or anything of the sort.  We really need to know what that thing is.” 
     “A thing?” I replied. 
     “The FBI guy thinks it is some kind of advanced equipment.  Like maybe part of an atomic bomb,” said the officer on my left, with a lowered voice.  You don’t bandy about the word Atom Bomb at a psychiatric ward; at least not too loudly. 
     “Are you involved in making atom bombs?” asked the officer on my right. 
     “I don’t know what you’re talking about, officer,” I said.  “Did you guys bring a picture of this thing?” 
     Both police officers remained silent for a good ten seconds, and then the officer on my right, Sergeant Sturgis, replied, “It’s missing.” 
     I blurted, “Are you sure something existed in the first place?  Cause this sounds like someone’s got an overactive imagination.” 
     “So are the remnants of your vehicle,” continued Sturgis. He paused and said, “missing.” 
     “Missing from your impound lot?” I asked.  “Don’t you guys keep an eye on it?”
     “It’s surrounded by a twenty foot high electric fence, and we have a burglar alarm there, too,” said officer number two, Officer Smith. 
     “I think it’s you guys who need to be locked up here, not me,” I said.
     “Let us know if you find out anything,” said Smith.  Both policemen walked out.
Upon the police departing I discovered that all of the after dinner snacks had already been consumed.  I concluded that I was destined to go to bed hungry that night.  I went to the nurse’s station and took my medications, and the med’s hit me hard a half hour later in the absence of food.  I had been sitting at a table in the dining room, and realized I was on the verge of falling asleep.  I stumbled my way to my room, and fell asleep soon after my head touched the pillow.  When I awoke, I wasn’t on Earth. 

##

I was in a very soft bed, with perfect temperature, and awoke from a very strange dream.  I opened my eyes and saw the freakiest possible “thing” or “creature” staring at me, sitting next to my bed.  It had large bloodshot eyes beneath a pointy, diminutive, protruding, fuzzy-haired brow.  It appeared to have a nose that was bulbous and had three nostrils.  It had teeth that stuck out like a saber-toothed tiger.  It had a very long, forked tongue that periodically stuck out—and it was purple.  And that’s just the head.  And then, it spoke: 
     “Welcome Mr. Simmons.”  Its speech had a prominent “s” that wasn’t quite a lisp.  The voice of the thing was high, musical and piping.  I could already tell that the creature’s stance and attitude were like that of the Dalai Lama.  “We have an offer to make you,” it said.  “Please sit up.” 
     I sat up in the very comfortable bed and put my bare feet onto a cool, hard floor.  I tried to orient myself.  I was in a room that appeared to have curving walls, floor and ceiling, all of which blended as one.  The room was almost featureless, but seemed to have a door that might have led to another room.  There were a couple of windows opposite me that resembled portholes on a sea vessel.  I realized I might be aboard a UFO.  I looked up at the creature, and I asked, “Are you some kind of alien?” 
     “If you haven’t figured that out, I’m not going to tell you,” it replied. “Please stand.  I have to scan you.  It is for extraterrestrial equivalent of ‘insurance purposes.’” 
     I stood and balanced with difficulty.  The alien put a hand on my shoulder to steady me.  It waved a black, plastic appearing object in front of me.  I felt a tingle from it that was like static electricity. 
     “Am I in space?” I asked.
     “Look out this window,” replied the alien. 
     I looked and saw the earth from space.  It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  I was moved. 
     The alien said, “We won’t be able to return you to earth as an ordinary citizen.  Your cells have already begun to adapt to our conditions.  We would like to offer you the envoy position.  Unfortunately, if you turn down that position, we will be forced to terminate you.”  The being paused, and said, “However, we thought you would still deserve a choice.”
     I thought about it, and I said, “I’ll give you my answer within twenty four hours.  I would like to learn more about the position.” 
     “We have implanted cooperation devices in all humans.  However, they are unaware of this.  The devices are to be used as a last resort, in case your species turns out to be ungovernable.  We shall attempt to peacefully assert dominance over the population of your planet.  As you know, your kind is incapable of survival without our supervision.” 
     “Is there one of those devices in my cranium?”
     “A meaningful answer to your question does not exist.” 
     I stood still and looked within.  I concluded that I had probably been spared the obedience device, or that at least, for now, it was dormant.  I asked, “And what does my position entail?” 
     “We do not completely know that yet.  However, you will help communicate complaints and other information to and from other members of your species.” 
     I thought.  I said, “What is the first order of your agenda after the new government is installed?”
     “In order to preserve natural resources as well as create a better society, we will terminate those citizens that can not produce and present a redeeming purpose.”  The alien paused.  “In the interest of fairness, we will give each person three chances.  People will be required to adhere to their chosen purpose from then on,” said the alien. 
     “I know my answer to your offer of the envoy position,” I said.


Bragen – redeeming purpose - 1